A Quick Bite (9 page)

Which was good to know, Greg thought, and admitted to himself that he’d like to help her. Mind you, if he were honest with himself, while he was impressed that everyone seemed to think so much of her, he wanted to help her as much because of the little episode of kissing and neck-sucking as anything else.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Greg became aware of an itch on his upper shoulder and automatically tried to reach to scratch it, only to be drawn up short by the ropes at his wrists. Blinking in surprise, he peered up at his bindings, then closed his eyes and sank into the bed with a sigh of self-disgust. He’d had nine people in the room in all that evening. Six scantily clad women, one
Spider-Man wannabe, and Aunt Martine and Marguerite. Most of them had even been in the room more than once, and what had he done? Had he convinced them to set him free or even asked to be untied? No, Greg had allowed himself to be drawn into the drama of this mad family and completely lost sight of what should have been his priority…Getting home to prepare for his trip.

Mentally kicking himself, Greg glanced around the room, but there was no clock for him to check the time. He thought it must be early morning, however. Still enough time to catch his flight if he got loose soon. Not that he was likely to be able to free himself from the ropes, but if someone else were to come to speak to him, perhaps he could persuade him or her to set him free.

He decided he’d promise to treat Lissianna on his return from Mexico if they untied him now, then promptly rethought the decision. Perhaps it would be better to have someone else treat her. Greg knew several good therapists who could help her as well as he himself could. Not that he minded the idea of treating her, it was just that what with the earlier kissing, and his most un-therapist-like feelings for her, it might be more ethical to have someone else see to her. That would also leave him free to pursue a relationship, so he could explore those most un-therapist-like feelings he had.

Greg wouldn’t tell them any of this, however. He wouldn’t even allow such thoughts to enter his mind since there was a good possibility Marguerite could read it. He’d simply agree to see to her treatment after he returned. When he came back was soon enough to approach the subject of an alternate therapist.

Satisfied with his plan, Greg glanced toward the door
expectantly. It had been like Grand Central Station for the last little bit, with everyone coming and going. He was sure he wouldn’t have long to wait until someone came to speak to him. Perhaps this time it would be Lissianna herself.

Chapter 6

It was barely noon when Lissianna
woke up. She hadn’t slept even five hours, but was immediately wide-awake when she would normally have slept through the day. Her first thought on waking was of her birthday gift.

“Dr. Gregory Hewitt,” she murmured the name aloud. Lissianna knew she should be grateful for the gift, but she’d really rather have had him for dinner. Her Chinese delivery boy hadn’t been very satisfying, and she was sure Hewitt would have been. Besides, she was confused on the issue of dealing with her phobia—one moment hopeful, the next dreading it.

Lissianna had been afflicted with hemaphobia since her teens. She’d tried reasoning her way out of it, but a mere peek at the red stuff was enough to send her into a dead faint.

A vampire who fainted at the sight of blood. How stupid was that? It was a weakness she found humiliating. Every feeding time her weakness reared its ugly head, forcing her to feed the old-fashioned way.

It hadn’t been a problem when she was young. Every
one had fed “off the hoof” then. It was only with the advent of blood banks that it became an issue. Not right away. At first, only
some
of her kind had used blood banks, while others had continued to feed the more natural way, but some fifty years ago the council had issued an edict that all of their people were to use blood banks. It was safer, helping to prevent discovery.

Everyone had switched to bagged blood then. Even Lissianna had managed it by allowing her mother to hook her up to an intravenous each night while she slept. It had reduced her to the dependence of a baby, but had seemed the only real option. Going for counseling had not been possible. Lissianna could hardly walk into a psychologist’s office and announce that she was a vampire with hemaphobia. Unfortunately, what she was was integral to her phobia. Lissianna’s first experience at feeding hadn’t gone well, and she’d fainted at the sight of blood ever since. So, faced with the choice of continuing to feed or allowing herself to be fed intravenously, Lissianna had gone with the intravenous, and things had rolled along just fine…until her father died.

Lissianna was suddenly confronted with the knowledge that—while they enjoyed long lives—her kind could still die. If her father could, why not her mother? The terror that had gripped her at the possibility had been twofold, one part because she loved her and would grieve her passing, and the other because she was as dependent on the woman for sustenance as a breast-feeding baby before the invention of baby bottles.

Made painfully aware of her vulnerability, Lissianna had decided she simply had to be more independent and find a way to feed herself. Exceptions to the “bagged blood only” rule were made for those with certain ailments. Like hers. So Lissianna had taken social work
courses at university, then got a job on the night shift at a downtown shelter. She’d thought the shelter would be an easy place to feed because there were large numbers of people there who changed daily. She’d thought she would actually even be helping those she fed off. It had seemed a fair trade.

But Lissianna’s grand plans had been based on flawed assumptions. While there were many people at the shelter, they didn’t really change nightly as she’d assumed. Often they were the same clients over and over…And the very fact that there were so many people crowded into the shelter was a hindrance rather than a help; it made it difficult to find clients by themselves and increased the chances of discovery.

Her position at the shelter meant Lissianna might manage a quick bite here or there, but she was never really able to feed properly. On top of that, the donors available to her at the shelter weren’t the healthiest specimens. Many of the clients were malnourished or sickly, and some were alcoholics or on drugs. Lissianna tried to avoid those clients for feeding, but sometimes circumstance and time constraints didn’t allow her to search their minds properly, and she wound up choosing the wrong donor. While Lissianna stopped feeding the moment she realized the blood was polluted with an intoxicant, by that point it was usually too late and she was a bit tipsy, or—on more than one occasion—completely drunk. Those were instances she didn’t care to dwell on. Each one had upset her mother horribly, and Lissianna had finally moved to her own apartment in the hopes of decreasing some of her mother’s worry, but she knew it hadn’t really worked. Marguerite Argeneau was terrified that Lissianna would follow in the footsteps of her weak-willed father and become an alcoholic. Hence the reason
behind her birthday gift. Her mother was hoping to avert tragedy.

Lissianna understood and appreciated this, but after almost two hundred years under its pall, she didn’t have much hope of getting over her phobia, and the very idea of trying—and failing—simply depressed her.

However, it appeared she didn’t have much choice, Lissianna acknowledged as she sat up and eased carefully to her feet, trying not to wake her cousins. She might as well go see what Dr. Gregory Hewitt could do for her.

Greg peered at the curtained window and sighed. The material covering the opening completely blocked all light from outside. It made it impossible to judge what time it was, but he suspected it was close to noon, definitely well past nine-forty in the morning, the time his flight had been scheduled to take off for Cancún. Greg had missed his flight.

All that money wasted on a ticket for an empty seat, he thought with disgust, then stiffened as the bedroom door opened. At the sight of Lissianna entering, he felt relief course through him and opened his mouth to vent his frustration over how long it had taken her—or anyone—to come check on him, then let it snap closed when he realized she was still wearing the pink lace baby doll.

It was an evil plot, Greg decided as his annoyance—along with every plan he’d had for what he would say on next seeing her—slowly slipped from his mind like sand.

“Good morning. Have you been awake long?” she asked as she closed the door.

“No.” His eyes followed her to the closet, then Greg realized what he’d said and corrected himself, “I mean, yes. I didn’t go back to sleep after you left this morning.”

Lissianna paused with the closet door open and cast a
startled glance his way. “You’ve been awake all this time? You must be exhausted.”

He shrugged, or tried to, but it was difficult in his position. “Not really. I fell asleep pretty early last night, I think. After your mother rushed you down to the party, I lay awake listening to the music for a while, then dozed off. I probably managed eight hours of sleep before you and your cousins visited this morning.”

“Oh…well…good.” She turned to the closet, leaving Greg to slide his gaze over her. She looked adorable and sexy all at once in the pink nightie. The woman had the kind of figure he liked, with some meat on her and curves in all the right places. She also had killer legs, long and shapely. They’d wrap easily around his hips.

“How was the party?” he asked abruptly, trying to drag his thoughts from her assets.

“Okay.” Lissianna gave a small shrug, then glanced over her shoulder to give him a wry smile, and added meaningfully, “It was a birthday party, lots of family.”

“Ah,” he said sympathetically, then fell silent and simply watched her poke through the closet. Thomas had said Lissianna had moved out on her own since her father’s death. He supposed that meant this was her old room from when she’d lived here and that she kept some things here for those occasions when she stayed unexpectedly. Greg didn’t have anything at his mother’s home anymore, but knew his sisters did. He supposed it was a girl thing.

Lissianna selected a pair of pants and a top, then moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He caught a flash of white silk, then she closed the drawer and crossed the room to a door along the wall the bed backed onto. Greg glimpsed the interior of a bathroom
done in pale blue and white hues as she stepped inside and closed the door.

He supposed she was changing and tried not to imagine the pink lace pooling on the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but all that ivory skin, then he heard the sound of water and guessed that she was taking a shower. It also reminded Greg that he really, really had to go to the bathroom. He’d had to go since early that morning and had held it while he waited for someone,
anyone
to come to the room. Occasionally the need had eased, and he’d briefly forgotten about it, but it always came back…as it did now.

Lying back on the bed, Greg began counting backward from one thousand by sevens in an effort to distract himself. Still, he was ready to burst by the time Lissianna stepped out of the now-steam-filled bathroom, fully clothed but with damp hair.

Greg smiled with relief at the sight of her. “Could you untie me, please?”

When Lissianna stared at him blankly, Greg ignored the fact that he had go to the bathroom and took the opportunity to try to gain his freedom instead. He spoke quickly, “Look, I know your mother wants my help in treating your phobia, and I’m more than happy to see that taken care of, but right this moment it’s kind of inconvenient. See, I was supposed to fly out to Cancún today.

“On vacation,” he added when her eyebrows rose in surprise. “I haven’t been on vacation since I went with my family as a kid. First I was busy with university, then I was setting up my own practice…” He took a breath, then told her, “It took weeks to rebook appointments and arrange everything for this trip. As I said, I’d be happy to help cure your phobia when I get back, but I really need this vacation.”

Greg finished by offering what he hoped was a charming smile as he mentally congratulated himself on his careful wording. He hadn’t said he’d treat her himself, he’d said he’d help cure her phobia. Greg still didn’t think he should treat her himself; his feelings for her were too confused to make that a good idea.

Seeing the indecision on her face, he added, “If you’re worried about my going to the authorities, I can’t. First off, I myself climbed into the trunk of your mother’s car,” he pointed out, then paused as he noted the way her eyes suddenly shifted away. Greg got the distinct impression that while
he
didn’t have any idea why he’d done what he had,
she
did. He considered confronting her on the matter, but decided it was less important than convincing her to untie him, so instead continued his arguments.

“I climbed into the trunk, and that will be on the security cameras from the parking garage. Even if I wanted to, there is no way I could claim I was kidnapped. The police would laugh me out of the station.

“I also—for reasons I don’t understand—walked up here and lay on the bed for Marguerite to tie me up.” He noted again that her eyes slid away from him almost guiltily. Frowning, Greg continued, “So, the most I could claim is that no one would then untie me when I wanted to be set free. How could I go to the police with that? They’d think it was some kinky sex game that went on longer than I’d intended, that I’d missed my flight, and was hoping to get a refund by pressing charges.

“And I couldn’t even give them your full names or address.” He shook his head. “I have no interest in going to the authorities. I understand that Marguerite, as well as the rest of your family, just want to see you cured, and I’m impressed that they all care so much for you. I’ll be
happy to arrange treatment when I get back from Cancún. Really. I just want to be set free now.”

He paused, then gave in to the complaining of his bladder, and added, “While you’re thinking about it, I’d appreciate it if you’d untie me for a bathroom break. I’ve been here since yesterday evening, and I really need to use the facilities.”