Blade of Darkness Page 2
She nodded. “When I realized I had a flat tire, I expected you to be right along to change it for me.”
He stared at her.
“After several minutes passed, I figured you must have gotten held up and started changing it myself. Then the vampires showed up.”
“You thought I’d appear and change the tire for you?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s what you did for Kimberly and Dawn.”
His stomach sank. “You, uh… you know about that?”
“Yes. I have to admit I was surprised to discover I’m on your list.” Glancing over at him, she grinned. “You look dumbfounded.”
“I suppose I am. You know about the list?”
“Of female gifted ones? Yes, I know about it.”
Hell. “How do you know about it?” he asked. Only a handful of immortals knew Aidan had inspired Chris’s wrath and come damned close to being executed by Seth, the Immortal Guardians’ leader, for breaking into network headquarters and stealing a list of female gifted ones in the area.
Gifted ones were men and women like himself who had been born with advanced DNA, the source of which they still didn’t know. Only gifted ones could be transformed by the virus without descending into insanity. And, after nearly three thousand years of loneliness, Aidan had defied Seth and acquired the list so he could arrange chance meetings with the women in hopes of hitting it off with one and—at long last—finding someone who would love him enough to transform and spend the rest of eternity with him.
Again she smiled. “Dawn gushed over you for days after she got a flat tire on the way home from work and you miraculously showed up to change it for her. Then Kimberly got a flat tire and”—she grinned—“a certain Celtic immortal appeared like a knight in shining armor and took care of it.”
He grimaced. Perhaps flattening the women’s tires, then gallantly showing up to aid them hadn’t been the wisest way to arrange a chance encounter. But the odd hours he kept made it hard for him to bump into them at the grocery store. “You’re saying I need a new MO.”
She laughed. “Yes, you do. But don’t worry. I think I’m the only one who has put two and two together. And I only guessed it because I happen to know that they’re both gifted ones.”
“Oh.” He didn’t really know what else to say.
“So, why were you late?” she asked again.
“Actually, I didn’t flatten your tire tonight,” he admitted, fearing it might offend her. “You aren’t on my list.”
“Oh. Well, that’s a relief.” She frowned, then laughed. “And yet I feel oddly insulted, which makes no sense whatsoever.”
He smiled. “It isn’t because I don’t think you’re worthy,” he assured her. “I love strong women. And you showed great courage tonight, standing against those two vampires. I admire intelligence as well, and Cliff says you’re brilliant.”
She blushed. “The vampire Cliff?”
“Yes.” Cliff had been amongst the first vampires to surrender to the Immortal Guardians and seek their help, hoping the scientists at the network would be able to stave off the madness that would soon claim them. “Since he lives at network headquarters and has heightened hearing, he pretty much knows everyone’s business.”
She shook her head. “Poor guy, listening to everybody’s drama all day.”
Aidan shrugged. The vamps all viewed it as an ongoing soap opera or reality show and found some entertainment in it. “Cliff told me you lost your husband last year,” he said, broaching the subject gently.
Grief darkened her features.
“He also told me you loved your husband a great deal, so I assumed your heart still belonged to him.”
Her throat moved in a swallow. “It does.” She blinked quickly several times as moisture welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I still can’t talk about it without crying.”
“No need to apologize.”
Silence fell as she navigated the dark country road.
“Does it bother you?” he asked curiously. “The list?”
“No.” She cast him a curious glance. “Is it true you’re almost three thousand years old?”
He released an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, it is.”
She laughed. “I heard one of the other immortals at the network say that immortal/human love affairs always end badly.”
“They do. The human ages while the immortal remains young. Even if bitterness over that fact doesn’t worm its way into the relationship, the mortal dies and leaves the immortal alone to grieve for centuries.”
She shook her head. “So you’ve been by yourself all this time?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had the friendship of Seconds.” Mortal men assigned to guard him during the day, provide companionship, and offer a semblance of normalcy to neighbors and anyone else who might be paying attention.
“But no wife?” she prompted softly. “No lovers?”
“No wife. And it’s difficult to take a lover for more than the briefest amount of time when I must hide my abilities and so much of my life from her.”
She slowed the car to a stop at a red light. The low rumble of the car’s engine filled a comfortable silence until she spoke. “You know, Tom and I only had nine years together. He worked at the network, too. And when we ran into each other the first time… something just clicked. It was like we became instant best friends. We wanted to spend all our time together from then on and would spend hours laughing and talking in the cafeteria after our shifts ended. Then we started going out to dinner and…” She shook her head. “He was it for me. He was the one.” When she gave him a sad smile, tears glistened in her eyes. “People keep telling me that I’m young. That I’ll move on and find love again. I smile and nod. But I know in my heart that I won’t. I’ll never find someone I can have that deep a connection with again. And the knowledge that I’m going to spend the rest of my life without that—without Tom, without love—is unbearable sometimes.”
Aidan read her thoughts and knew her sorrow to be true.
He also heard the words she didn’t speak aloud: How have you lived for three thousand years with that sorrow and that loneliness when I can hardly bear the notion of living another forty or fifty years with it?
She cleared her throat. “So I get it. I get the list.”
Nodding, he murmured, “I see that you do.”
The signal light turned green.
Driving forward once more, she forced a bright smile. “Any luck so far?”
“Nope.” He returned her smile. “But as it happens, I have an appointment in”—he consulted his watch—“thirty-five minutes with a lovely psychic in Carrboro.”
“Ooh, a psychic,” she repeated, her voice full of intrigue. “Maybe she’s seen you coming.”
“If she had,” he countered with a wink and a grin, “she would’ve canceled the appointment.”
Veronica laughed.
Thirty-five minutes later, Aidan stepped out of his Tesla Model S and studied the small shop in front of him. It was half of what appeared to be a duplex that had been converted into two businesses with homes above them.
Closing the driver’s door, he pocketed the keys.
A tingle of excitement fluttered in his chest. Anticipation rose. As did hope.
It made him feel young again and brightened spirits that had been dark for too many years to count.
He knew this was a long shot but savored the moment nonetheless.
Gifted ones born in previous centuries had always refused to be transformed. Even those who had fallen in love with immortals had steadfastly remained mortal, fearing what transforming would mean for their soul. The church had long deemed vampires minions of Satan. And until modern medicine had enabled immortals to better understand why they were the way they were, immortals had assumed the same rules applied to them. So they had never pushed the women they loved to transform for them because they didn’t want to be responsible for damning them.
But in the past century or so, their mortal doct
or and scientist friends had identified the virus that infected both immortals and vampires as well as the advanced DNA that made gifted ones and immortals different, easing their fears.
Then Sarah Bingham had shocked the immortal world by doing what Aidan and the others had believed no mortal ever would. She had asked to be transformed so she could spend the rest of eternity with Roland Warbrook.
And hope had surfaced.
All Aidan had to do was find the right gifted one—a woman he could love, who could love him in return and who would be willing to transform for him—and he could view the future as more than just an endless stretch of days in which he slew vampires every night, then went to bed alone.
Strolling forward, he pushed open the door. A bell dinged as he ducked and stepped inside.
At the sound of the bell, Dana Pembroke turned around and felt her jaw drop.
Holy crap.
The man who stood just inside the door had to be three or four inches above six feet. His thick black hair was short and so wavy it almost curled. But it by no means lent him a feminine air. His strong jaw bore just a hint of a five-o’clock shadow. Deep brown eyes captured hers and sparkled with amusement beneath dark brows.
Because she was drooling over him?
She let her gaze dip lower.
What woman wouldn’t drool over him? He was freaking hot.
A black T-shirt stretched taut over broad shoulders, revealing a very muscled chest and thick biceps. Casual black slacks hugged slim hips, what she guessed would be a really nice ass if he turned around, and muscular thighs.
His lips stretched in a friendly smile. “Good evening.”
His lovely bass voice flowed through her like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night.
Straightening, she struck a dramatic pose and touched her fingertips to one temple in much the same way Shawn Spencer did in the television series Psych. “Aidan O’Byrne?” she intoned.
His smile broadened, revealing straight white teeth. “Aye. Let me guess. You saw me coming.”
Grinning, she abandoned her pose and shrugged. “Kind of hard not to when you make an appointment.”
He laughed. “Would you be the charming lass I spoke with over the phone then?”
Damned if she didn’t feel a little blush of pleasure heat her cheeks as she strode forward and offered her hand. “That would be me.” And his accent was even sexier in person. “Dana Pembroke.”
He took her hand in his much larger one and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She didn’t think a man had ever kissed her hand before. Why did that make her insides go all gooey?
Staring up at him, she offered no protest when he didn’t immediately release her hand.
Damn, he was handsome. And he had one of those smiles that made it impossible to resist smiling back.
Until blood abruptly splattered across his face and neck.
She gasped.
A deep slash opened on his chest. Another opened on his left arm, then his right. The hand holding hers grew slick with warm, wet blood.
Fear streaking through her, Dana yanked her hand out of his grasp. She looked down at her trembling fingers.
No blood stained them, but she could still feel the warm wetness of it.
When she looked up, Aidan was as he had been before she had touched him, his handsome face clean, his clothing flawless, his flesh unmarred. No blood. No cuts.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
His smile faltered. “Dana?”
Had she just seen the future? His future?
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern darkening his pretty brown eyes.
The future had never come to her so quickly or clearly before.
She forced a smile. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
He tilted his head to one side, his gaze turning watchful. “You saw something.”
For once she found herself at a loss for words. Normally she would have denied it, unwilling to inform a client she had just met that she’d foreseen his death. But something told her this man would recognize the lie. “Yes.”
“It disturbed you.”
“Yes.”
“Past or future?”
She considered it a moment. “I’m pretty sure it was the future.”
“But you do sometimes see the past?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see me wounded?”
“Yes.”
“Badly?”
Her eyes clung to his. “Yes.”
He nodded, strangely unconcerned. “I’m guessing you saw a slash across my chest. About here.” He drew a line across his chest. “A couple more on my arms.” He traced two paths on his arms exactly where she had seen the cuts in the remarkably clear vision.
Relief suffused her, relaxing the muscles she hadn’t even realized had bunched up in her shoulders. “Yes.” She smiled. “So it was the past. Good.”
He smiled.
Realizing what she’d just said, she hastened to clarify, “I mean, not good that you were wounded. I just…”
“Thought you were about to lose a client?” he suggested with a wink.
She laughed. “Well, I didn’t think you’d want to come back if the first thing I told you was that you’re going to be seriously, perhaps fatally, wounded.”
He grinned. “I was in the army in my youth. And since then I’ve been working in the private security business. Both have proven to be dangerous on occasion, so I’ve had my fair share of nicks and bruises over the years.”
That had been one hell of a nick. “Private security?” She motioned for him to accompany her and began strolling toward the back of her small shop.
He shrugged. “There always seems to be someone out there who wants to kill or kidnap someone else. I, and my brothers, offer protection to those who need it.”
“Your brothers? Do you have a big family then?”
“They’re brothers in spirit, not by blood. Most of us don’t have families of our own, so we consider each other family.”
Dana had no family of her own either, so she could appreciate that. An only child, she had lost all her grandparents before she turned seven. Then, after reaching adulthood, she lost both parents in a car accident. “Is this the first time you’ve consulted a psychic?”
“I admit,” he said with another smile, “this is the first time I’ve ever made an appointment with one.”
She had thought so. “Well, usually clients seek me out because they have concerns or questions they would like answered. They’re often stressed and worried, not to mention nervous about seeing a psychic for the first time. So I do things a little differently than other psychics.” She opened a door and stepped into what used to be a sizable dining room before the duplex apartment had been converted.
Since purchasing her half, she had painted the walls in soothing earth tones. Large plants flourished in every corner. In front of the central window, she had created a garden with sand and stones, a variety of plants, and a rock waterfall. At one end of the long room, she had placed a small round table with two comfy chairs in what would make a great reading nook. Two more chairs were parked on the opposite wall beside a bookshelf that held books, puzzles, paper, crayons, and markers for clients who brought children with them.
And at the other end of the room, she had installed a comfortable massage chair.
She motioned to that now. “I usually start things off with a massage to relieve some of the tension and ease nerves.”
He arched a brow. “And because touch strengthens your gift?”
She regarded him with surprise. He was the first one to guess that. “Yes.”
He eyed the contraption warily. “I’m supposed to sit on that?”
“Yes.”
“I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think I’ll fit.”
She laughed. “You are taller than most of my clients”—and heavier with muscle—“but I can adjust it to accommodate you.”
He continued to look doubtful. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“It’s actually very comfortable,” she coaxed.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” Did he really think it wouldn’t support his weight? She might not have any clients who were as muscular as he was, but she had had clients who weighed more than she guessed he did and hadn’t had any problems thus far.
“Should I be blunt,” he asked, “or would you prefer I sugarcoat it?”
“Blunt,” she responded without hesitation.
“As you will.” He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think it would be wise because I’m attracted to you.”
Surprise and pleasure warmed her.
“And if I park my caboose in that chair—”
She laughed. “Caboose?”
He grinned. “My friend has a two-year-old daughter who only seems to repeat the naughty words she hears, so I’ve had to clean up my language a bit.”
Too cute. “I’m sorry I interrupted. Go on.”
He dipped his head in a slight bow. “As I was saying, I’m attracted to you. And if I park my caboose in that peculiar chair and let you put your hands on me, I fear my body may react in ways that will embarrass you.”
Was that another blush heating her cheeks? “Oh.”
He winced. “I should have sugarcoated it, shouldn’t I?”
“No. No, it’s fine,” she said. “I just…” A brief self-deprecating laugh escaped her. “I just have no idea how to respond to that. Almost all my clients are women. And now I’m blushing like a teenager, aren’t I?”
He grinned. “Yes. I find it quite fetching.”
Something about this man just made her feel lighthearted. Comfortable. Almost as if they were good friends who simply hadn’t seen each other for a long time.
Perhaps it was his old-world mannerisms. Kissing her hand. Using words like fetching.
But she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Brushing her hands together, she motioned to the chair. “Go ahead and park your caboose in the chair. I’ll adjust it until you’re comfortable. And if your body responds to my touch, I’ll just pretend not to notice.” Yeah, right. Because she had been so successful with not blushing when he had broached the subject. “I really do need to touch you though in order to give you the most accurate reading.”