Under a Vampire Moon (39 page)

Carolyn paused and shrugged wearily. “Now you know it all. You know just how stupid and pathetic I really am.”

“Pathetic?” Christian asked with disbelief and crossed the room to take her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. He then said solemnly, “
Cara,
a weaker woman would have turned to alcohol or drugs. She might even have killed herself faced with a decade of such systematic abuse. He did everything he could to make you feel completely valueless. And you were alone, without any sort of emotional support.

“You aren’t pathetic,” he said firmly. “You are smart, and beautiful and you obviously have a core of inner strength that most people could only wish for, because despite everything, he didn’t crush you. Your spirit is in there, it peeks out at times when you aren’t on your guard and I love that about you. I love your kindness and your wit and your sense of fun and your strength. You are more valuable than gold to me.”

Uncertainty crossed her face and she tried to duck her head again, but he wouldn’t let her and said solemnly, “I do love you. And I have no need or desire for your money. I will even transfer all my assets into your name, and insist on a prenup to prove—”

“Prenup?” she squawked with alarm, trying to break free of his hold. “I’m not marrying you, Christian. I’ve only just met you. I’m not going to be rushed into another marriage and—Hell, I’m not even divorced yet!”

“I know, I know,” Christian said quickly, pressing her to his chest as he added soothingly, “I didn’t mean right away. I am just saying that my attentions are not fleeting and that when the time comes I will do whatever it takes to prove it is you I want and not your money.” Much to his relief she stopped struggling then. “I don’t need your money. There is no reason for me to lie or con you. I have never lied to you. And I never will.”

She pulled her head back to snap, “You already have. The gay thing, remember?”

“That was Gia. She told you I was gay,” Christian said at once, pressing her head back to his chest as he admitted, “and I was rather distressed at the time and wanted to tell you the truth, but my mother convinced me to let the lie stand so that you would get used to me.”

“Your mother
?” Carolyn was out of his arms so fast he didn’t get a chance to stop her, and then he just stood, staring with surprise, as she backed away, squawking, “Your
mother
knows about us?”

Christian blinked, realizing what he’d said, but then his gaze shifted to her again as she began to pace and wring her hands muttering, “Oh my God, your mother knows. She probably isn’t much older than me. She’ll think I’m a cradle robber. A man-eating cougar out to devour her baby boy.” Whirling suddenly, she cried with distress, “How could you tell your mother about us?”

Christian raised his hands, palms out as if soothing a wild horse. “
Cara,
it’s all right. She is fine with us, happy for me.”

“How could she be fine with us?” Carolyn demanded with disbelief. “Does she know I’m at least twenty years older than you?”

“You aren’t twenty years older than me,” he said firmly. “And she does know your age, and is fine with it.”

“How could she possibly be fine with it?” she asked with patent disbelief.

“She—”

“How old is your mother?” Carolyn interrupted, and then paced away, muttering, “She’s probably fifty or something. Closer to my age than you are. Dear God, I—” She whirled back. “How old is she?”

Christian stared at her blankly. He’d just promised not to lie to her. He’d been trying not to before this anyway, saying things like “Zanipolo knows my sexual preference” when she’d asked if Zani knew he was gay, but there was just no way not to lie in answer to this question.

“Well?” she demanded. “How old—”

“She’s much older than you,” he finally said and then added, “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty? Let’s get a drink.”

Grabbing her hand, he headed for the door, dragging her behind him. It was a way to distract her of course, but it suddenly occurred to him that he couldn’t now lie to her about the blood in the refrigerator. But then again, he couldn’t tell her the truth either. It was better if he had backup for this conversation; Gia and the others would help out and distract her when necessary.

Nineteen

C
arolyn tugged at her hand, trying to get free as Christian dragged her out of the bedroom, but she couldn’t break his hold.

“Christian,” she finally muttered. “I don’t want to go downstairs. We have to talk about—”

“We’ll keep talking,” he promised. “I just want to grab some water first.”

Carolyn opened her mouth to protest again, but paused as she recalled the bags of blood in the fridge. She’d quite forgotten about that what with one thing and another. She supposed though she really should find out about that now too, so held her tongue, curious to see if he’d allow her to see the blood or would try to hide it. That would tell her a lot about how much she could really trust him, she supposed and stopped trying to tug free.

When Christian glanced over his shoulder, she just shrugged and said, “I’m thirsty too.”

He immediately relaxed and slowed down, his hold on her hand loosening as they started downstairs. Halfway down, he offered, “I can order food up too if you’re hungry?”

“No, thank you,” Carolyn murmured. She was kind of hungry, but if she was going to be naked around Christian, it seemed a good idea to try to rid herself of some of those curves of hers, she thought with a sigh.

They were silent the rest of the way down. Carolyn had no idea what he was thinking, but her mind was spinning a bit, bouncing between the fact that his mother knew about them—how mortifying—and that he had a fridge full of blood which just seemed kind of strange to say the least. Although, she was sure there was a good explanation. She just couldn’t imagine what that might be.

Her gaze slid to Christian and she noted that he seemed deep in thought, his expression troubled. She wondered what he was thinking about, and then they were approaching the kitchen and she glanced ahead to spot Gia, Santo, Raffaele, and Zanipolo gathered around the kitchen counter.

Carolyn immediately recalled that she was in nothing but a T-shirt and was again about to try to tug her hand free of Christian’s, but then noted that the foursome each had what appeared to be bags of blood pressed to their mouths. Gia’s and Santo’s were full, but Zanipolo and Raffaele’s bags were both empty or nearly, and even as she noticed that, Zanipolo ripped his empty bag from his mouth and she caught a flash of fangs before he turned to toss the bag in the garbage.

Carolyn promptly stopped dead.

Drawn from his thoughts, Christian glanced to her in question. “
Cara?
What—?” He paused abruptly and released her hand to move in front of her to raise her face with concern. “You’ve gone deathly pale,
cara
. Do you feel unwell again?”

Carolyn just stared up at him with a sort of horror and began to shuffle backward.

“
Cara?
” he repeated, his concern deepening. “What—?”

Carolyn didn’t wait for more; her horror had suddenly given way to panic, and she whirled on her feet, before heading for the nearest exit, the front door. She knew he was following, but her fear gave her wings and she swore her feet barely touched the floor as she raced toward escape. She was just passing the stairs when the door ahead suddenly opened and Marguerite and Julius started into the villa. Carolyn immediately changed direction, charging up the stairs instead.

“Christian? What’s going on?” she heard Julius ask.

“I don’t know,” he barked, and she could actually feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Carolyn was sure he would grab her at any minute, but he merely tailed her along the hall, staying close but not stopping her, and Carolyn began to realize he had no idea what she’d seen. He hadn’t seen it. He’d been lost in thought. If she could just keep her head, she could get out of this, she told herself as she hurried through the bedroom door.

“
Cara,
what is it?” Christian repeated as he closed the door behind them. “Don’t you feel well?”

“No,” she muttered, grasping at the excuse, and turned toward the bathroom.

“What did you have for dinner?” he asked, following.

“I—” She stopped abruptly at the door and turned to raise a hand to stop him. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

His concern deepened. “Then I’ll get you a cold, damp cloth and hold your head while you do.”

Carolyn blinked at the offer. Her mother used to do that when she was a child, but no one since. Robert’s idea of nurturing had been to say, “You look like hell. Go lie down so I don’t have to look at you.”

Her thoughts were distracted when Christian suddenly took her upraised hand. “You’re trembling, and cold as ice. Is your blood sugar low again?”

When she stared at him blankly, he cursed and scooped her into his arms to carry her to the bed. He set her down gently, and pulled the blankets up to cover her, then brushed the hair from her face, frowning when he saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Don’t cry. I’ll run down to the main building and get you some juice. You’ll feel better soon,” he reassured her, caressing her cheek. “But don’t get out of bed until I get back. I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself. I love you too much to lose you now. Okay?”

When she just stared, he bent to press a tender kiss to her lips, then straightened and hurried away, promising, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

For one moment, Carolyn didn’t move. Her mind was filled with the concern and caring on his face, the tenderness he’d shown and his vow of love. She was sure he cared for her. Perhaps there was an explanation.

For blood in the fridge and fangs?
her friendly heckler asked dryly
. Sure there is. You’ve stumbled into a den of vampires and are on the menu. Surely it isn’t coincidence that you suddenly developed a blood problem after meeting him? Is it low blood sugar or just low blood?

Carolyn sat up abruptly. Surely he hadn’t been feeding on her? She immediately began to check her arms and legs for bite marks, then felt her neck, but there was nothing that she could find. She was just relaxing when her heckler suggested,
“Maybe he bit you where you can’t see. The back of the neck, or between the legs, he seemed to like it down there when he tied you up and that would explain why you kept passing out at the end.

Carolyn leaped out of the bed, but then just turned in a circle as it occurred to her that she’d had the low blood sugar thing on the boat, before they’d ever had sex. It couldn’t be because he’d bitten her.

Or maybe those erotic dreams weren’t dreams at all,
her heckler suggested.
Maybe he’s been coming to you in your sleep, like Dracula did to Lucy. Creeping in your window and doing things to you as he sucked you dry.
The heckler let that sink in and then added,
Jack did say he thought Christian wanted you, body and soul. He just probably didn’t know how right he was.

Carolyn was at the curtains, ripping them aside and slipping out through the French doors before that last thought was finished. She hurried down the stairs leading to the pool, sure with every step that someone would catch and stop her.

“C
hristian? Where are you going?”

He paused impatiently at the front door to glance back as his mother led Julius out of the kitchen. “Down to the main building. Carolyn’s blood sugar is low again. I need to get her some juice.”

“Well, you’re not going like that,” Julius said dryly. “Get your ass upstairs and put on some pants. And you’ll need your wallet if you plan to buy anything.”

Christian glanced down, amazed to find he wore only the robe. Muttering under his breath, he hurried back to the stairs.

“Gia and the others were feeding when we got here,” Marguerite announced, suddenly in front of him.

“That’s nice,” Christian said with disinterest and made to go around her.

“Did Carolyn see them feeding?”

The question made him glance at her with surprise. “No, of course not.”

“So they weren’t feeding when you saw them in the kitchen as you approached?”

He blinked. “No. I mean, I don’t think—I never really saw them, I was preoccupied with my thoughts, and Carolyn stopped suddenly and I looked at her and—” He frowned as he recalled her expression. He’d been distracted by her pallor, but her expression had been—

Cursing, Christian turned and hurried upstairs, aware that his parents were following. At the bedroom door he hissed, “Go away,” and then pushed inside and glanced to the bed. When he found it empty, he crossed quickly to the bathroom and peered inside. It too was empty. Her dress was still there though, hanging from the shower door, and he grabbed it before he turned out of the room.

“She ran,” Marguerite said sadly, drawing his attention to the fact that his parents had followed him into the room.

“She must have slipped out this way.” Julius pulled the curtains aside to reveal that the French doors weren’t completely closed.