Blood of the Maple (8 page)

Okay. Amara
really
didn’t like this part of the story. She doubted much sleeping had gone on, and picturing it made fire burn in her belly, the kind that had her ripping out weeds by the roots.

Not good.

“I thought it was another one of those things—two people coming together in an LSD haze of good feeling and good feeding. Terri thought it was more. When she realized I was ready to move on, she kidnapped me.”

“How?” Kidnapping a vampire was damn near impossible.

“She used magic. Terri, as it turns out, is a witch.”

And that was why it was only
nearly
impossible. “Damn. That goes against the Rede.”

“An it harm none, do as thou wilt? I believe Terri was beyond that point before I ever met her. By the time she cursed me, there was no way she was white or gray. She
had
to be black.” And black witches, those practitioners who put their personal gain above anything else, were one of the most feared creatures in the world. Selfish and brutal in their attempts to satisfy all their cravings, dark practitioners lived for nothing and no one but themselves. “She brewed a potion that would change my diet and force me to become dependent on her for sustenance. When I struggled to get away, I knocked the chalice containing the potion and splashed us both. Now I’m cursed to drink nothing but green, leafy blood, and Terri is…a monster.”

“Monster?”

“She sprouts.”

“I sprout.”

“Not like you. It’s not natural. She smells vile and looks worse. She’s… Damn. How do I describe her?”

“She’s a weed?”

“That’s one way, I suppose. I’d go with pond slime myself.”

Amara wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“Exactly. What’s worse, she’s killed the few women I’ve tried to establish relationships with. She’s bloody dangerous, and I’m a complete pillock for putting you in danger this way.”

“What does pillock mean?”

She didn’t know vampires could blush like that. “It means idiot. Asshole. Someone who’s done something extraordinarily stupid.”

“Oh.” Her eyes were glowing, but she didn’t care. A weed was trying to kill Parker. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to deal with weeds. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t killed her.”

Frustration, confusion, anger—they were easy to read in Parker’s face. “I have no idea. Whenever she comes close to me, I run like some pigtailed girl being chased by the boogeyman. I want desperately for this to end, but every time I think about killing her…” He shuddered and paled. “I think something about the curse stays my hand.” The feel of Parker’s hand on hers calmed her, settled the raging inferno inside her. “You have to know I’m very interested in you.”

He’d made it clear he wanted more than ice cream and an occasional movie date, and from the way she reacted to him, her answer was obvious. “Me too.”

“You’re interested in you? Not necessarily a bad thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. But I need to know. Are you willing to see where this goes, knowing Terri will more than likely go after you because of me?” He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I will do everything in my power to protect you, but she could get to you when I’m not here.”

“You’re giving me the choice? I thought macho men made all the safety decisions when it came to the womenfolk. You know, ‘Grunt, grunt. Get in house wo-man.’ Followed by the inevitable beating of hairy chests.” She’d read Glinda’s stash of romance novels. She knew the way these things worked. He was supposed to go all emo and declare her off-limits, then flirt with another girl to convince Amara he meant it. Then he’d be forced to rescue her and work hard to get her back. Why wasn’t he following the script?

“We’ve come a long way, baby. You told me you’re something more than a dryad, and frankly? We live in a town of supernaturals who have apparently decided that they like me. I know they must like you. It would be hard not to.”

She chose not to disabuse him of that notion. He’d find out soon enough. Then he’d have some decisions to make, like whether she was worth the harassment he’d suffer when the townsfolk found out who he was dating. Their attitude had ruined the few relationships she’d tried to have.

“Therefore, the odds are excellent that we might be able to get some help from our neighbors. The choice is yours.”

“Hmm. Let me think.” She was in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her thighs straddling his. She would enjoy this while it lasted, because once he realized what a freak show she was, he’d be out the door in a flash, vegetarian vampire or not. This might be her only chance to feel him under her. “Done.”

He held her hips. “I take it that’s a yes?”

Here goes.
“I want you to know something first.”

“What?”

“When I told you I’m not a normal dryad, I meant it.”

“You’re a Republican?” he gasped.

She rolled her eyes and bopped him on the head. “
No.
I’m rarer than a dryad Republican.”

“Dear Goddess, that
is
rare. So? What are you?”

“I’m not sure if you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Then show me.”

Show him? Did she trust him that much?

She looked down into his expectant, patient eyes and knew. Yes, she already trusted him that much. It was a scary thing, to realize she trusted a man she’d known for so short a time. “You know, I don’t get it. Why do I have the urge to share my darkest secrets with you?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Far too comfortable to move, she couldn’t bring herself to climb off his lap. The awkwardness she’d experienced with previous partners was absent, and that in itself was strange—and alarming.

He stroked her hips, soothing her. “Odd. I feel the same. Do you want to slow things down?”

No.
“Maybe.” Why did she say
that?
The last thing she wanted was to scare Parker away. If he left, she might never get another chance, especially with someone this hunkalicious. Parker placed her on her feet, rubbing her skin with his thumbs. The slight calluses from working in The Greenhouse scraped across her skin, heightening the sensation. It was sexy as hell. “This is temporary, just so you know. I have every intention of pursuing a relationship with you since I have your permission. I do, don’t I?” He pressed an all-too-brief kiss to her lips when she nodded. “Dinner tomorrow?”

Thank the Goddess he hadn’t been put off by her stupidity. “Yes.”

She loved the way her answer lit him up. “Good. I’ll pick you up after sunset.”

She walked him to the door. Part of her wanted to rip his clothes off so they could rut like bunnies, but maybe taking it slow wasn’t a bad idea. She could wait a night or two before diving into his pants. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He stroked her cheek, leaving behind a shivering awareness of his touch that lingered long after his flesh had left hers. “So am I.” He graced her with one last heated smile and walked out the door, whistling. “Amara?”

“Hmm?”

“I do like this town.” He strolled over to his house, whistling the entire way. Her gaze never left him, guarding his steps till he was safely inside.

She had more than one thing in Maggie’s Grove to protect now, and she had a few good ideas on how to do that. Behind her, the branches of her tree swayed, though no wind blew.

Daylight came, and with it, Amara. She stepped into Parker’s garden, knowing her vampire would be asleep at this time of day. “Hello, Brian.”

The Renfield smiled. “I’ve been expecting you. Did he tell you about his problem?”

“There’s a weed that needs pulling.”

Brian coughed. “Ah. I thought you might see it that way.” He stared at her, his expression turning stern. “Is Parker under your protection?”

He was acting as Parker’s Renfield, and Amara couldn’t be happier. “Don’t ask me why, but yes. I plan on having him meet my tree tonight.”

His relief eased her mind that she was doing the right thing. “She’ll like him.”

“I think so too, but until I know for sure, I plan on holding him at a distance.” Of about a foot, but she wasn’t going to tell Brian that. He might be her friend, but he was also Parker’s Renfield. She had no doubt if it came down to it, his loyalties would lie with his vampire.

Not something she could complain about, since it was beginning to feel like that was where her loyalties would lie too.

“Understandable.” He looked around, hands on his hips. “How can I help?”

“Is Greg here?”

“Yes, why?”

“Can you reassure him that what I’m going to do will protect Parker?”

“Of course. He’s right here. He
can
hear you, remember?”

“I can’t see
or
hear him.” Psychics—they were the same all over town, always forgetting other people couldn’t see what they did.

Brian’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry. To me, he’s
there,
almost like you are. Let me guess. You don’t want Parker to know you’re introducing him to your tree, right?”

“Yup.” She twisted her hands together. “Greg? Do me a favor, will you? Don’t say anything either. If Parker knows what to expect, he might not be willing to meet her.”

“I’ve heard meeting a dryad’s tree can be pretty intense.” Brian looked off to his left. “Greg just wants to double-check that there’s no chance this could hurt Parker.”

“I don’t think so. Unless he’s planning on harming me in some way, she’ll only touch his soul. That won’t hurt a bit.”

She’d never seen quite that expression Brian’s face before. It was equal parts disbelief, worry—and was that laughter? “Okay. We’ll make sure he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She turned back toward her garden. “I’ll talk to you later, Bri. I have some things I need to do before I see Parker tonight.”

“Going to your secret garden?”

“You know me so well.”

“Have fun. We’ll see you later.” Brian waved goodbye and sauntered back into Parker’s house.

Amara entered her garden and went for the secret gate that led to the trail through the woods. She wanted to check on the garden she and Glinda had planted all those years ago. She smiled, thinking about the wild forest garden they’d managed to create. It looked like part of the landscape, but each and every plant and decoration had been carefully selected and placed to enhance its beauty rather than compete with it. Stone benches mimicked the rocks around them, with flat surfaces for people to sit and admire the greenery. They’d even thought of putting in a pond or waterfall, but there was no electricity this far from the house, so they’d decided against it. Besides, the garden didn’t need it. It was perfect the way it was, built out of the love Amara and Glinda had shared for the natural world.

It took an hour to reach the garden at the base of the mountain. She stepped from behind the bush that guarded the entrance and came to a screeching halt. “Oh no. Who…? What the
hell?
”

The garden had been utterly destroyed, the tall trees twisted and broken, their branches hanging limp, leafless and lifeless. The rock benches were cracked and stained with moss. The flowers Glinda had planted lay broken and black on the ground. Nothing lived within the once pleasant grove but moss and lichen. The stench of death was nearly overwhelming. The stone she’d recently set as a memorial to Glinda was cracked in two and covered in lichen; the words of love and loss she’d asked Rock to etch onto its surface, completely obliterated.

The flame in Amara’s heart leaped to life in a frenzy of anger. Whoever had done this would pay. Her head flew back, and Amara screamed her challenge to the sky.

They would
pay.

Parker woke the next night with a sense of anticipation he hadn’t felt since…well, since a certain bonfire in the desert all those years ago. Despite the fact that their date wouldn’t go beyond dinner and possibly a few kisses, he was eager to see Amara. Bedding her would have to wait. He had to be at work at midnight, and the first time he made love to Amara would take much longer than a few hours.

It might take days.

He grinned and hopped out of bed, ready to face the night.

“Going somewhere?”

“I have another date with Amara before work.” Parker grabbed his favorite black T-shirt and dark jeans, determined to go casual. He began to strip off the boxers he’d slept in, unconcerned Greg was in the room. They’d been roommates for so long, he didn’t even think twice about it. “Why?”

“No reason.”

The guilty way Greg said it had him pausing. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing. Really.”

The man never could lie worth a damn. “Greg. Tell me.”

A knock came on the door. “I have a message from Amara, Parker.”

He pulled his boxers back up and answered the door. “What?”

“She says to meet her in her garden.”

“Thank you, Brian.”

“You’re welcome.”

Parker shut the door and proceeded to get dressed. “Greg?”

Curious. I wonder where he’s gotten off to.
He’d probably followed when Brian left. Brian and Greg had more than hit it off, even if the logistics of how a ghost and a human could… Well. Thinking about it hurt his brain.

Parker whistled tunelessly on his way down the stairs. “Has anyone seen my boots?” He cocked his head, the only sounds in the house the rapid beating of a heart, a low moan and slick, wet noises that—

“Oh my bloody Goddess.” Parker found his damn boots and raced out of the house. “I did not hear what I thought I heard. No way. Uh-uh.” He shook his head and tried his best to fill it with visions of Amara as he’d seen her last night, licking the ice-cream cone. That thought led to her licking other flesh-colored objects, like one attached to a very happy vampire.

Oh yeah. That did it. He couldn’t wait to see his girl and kiss her silly before heading to work. He reached the gate that led to Amara’s garden and knocked. “Hello? Any dryads home?” A low laugh filled him with warmth. The gate swung open, and there before him stood the object of his lusty thoughts. “Hello, sweet.”

“Hello, sour.”

Oh no. Had he insulted her somehow?
Apologize, quick, before she shuts the door!
“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Should I be?”

Uh-oh. Not good.
Had he done something wrong? “Not that I’m aware of. Did I offend you somehow last night?”

“No, not at all.” She looked stunned.

“And you know I’ve been asleep all day, yes? So I couldn’t have done anything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you call me sour?”

Her expression cleared. A sunny smile brought out her sweet dimples. He nearly slid in his drool. “Because sweet and sour go together.”

He knew his mouth was open because a gnat flew into it. “Gah.” He coughed, trying to bring the bug back up.

“Oops. It was supposed to make you laugh, not croak.” She pounded on his back with more strength than he’d have given her credit for. Hell, with more strength than he figured a troll would have.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” She backed off, her face a study in contrasting emotions.

“Go ahead, laugh at me. I’m the one choking to death on a gnat.”

She bit back her laugh manfully. “Come in?”

“Thank you.” He closed the gate and leaned against it. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Hello, sweet.”

“Hello, sour.” She giggled.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her shaking form into his arms. “Someone’s begging for a tickling.”

She wiggled for a second, a mulish expression on her face. “I’m not ticklish.”

M’lady doth protest too much.
He curled his fingers and twitched them. She squirmed in his grasp, those huge eyes narrowed dangerously. “I swear, you
will
regret it.”

Someday he’d go ahead with his dastardly plan to make her giggle until she cried uncle, but for now? He had more important things to do. He leaned down, taking a deeper taste of her than he had the night before, sweeping his tongue between her lips for a hello kiss that left them both wanting more. “Mm. So. Will I regret it?”

“Hmm?” That sexy, mysterious smile was back, the one that made him want to kiss her even more.

So he did, turning until her back was to the gate. She slid her arms around his neck, holding him close, tight almost to the point where he was glad he didn’t
have
to breathe. His cock throbbed behind his jeans; the need to pull her to the ground and have her, take her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to be inside this woman in the worst way. He moaned against her, thrust his hips forward so she’d know exactly what she did to him.

Her answering groan was music to his ears. His fangs descended in preparation to feast on the precious woman he held in his arms. He needed her like no one else.

His fangs nipped her lip, drawing blood. He reeled as her flavor exploded on his tongue, damn near coming in his pants at the rich, earthy flavor of Amara’s blood. He sucked on the tiny wound he’d inflicted, already addicted to her taste.

Much more of this and he’d be missing work for all the right reasons.

“Stop.”

He pulled back instantly, the loss of her touch painful.

She touched her bleeding lip, her eyes dark and wide. “You bit me.”

He shook his head. “No. My fangs. I nicked you by accident, I swear.”
If she sends me away, I might as well greet the dawn.

And that thought terrified him even more.

“I believe you.” The relief that rushed through him was short-lived. “But I need you to meet someone.” She took him to a stunning Schwedler Norway maple crowned in brilliant crimson leaves. “Beautiful.”

She smiled again, and it felt like the moon had come out from behind clouds. “Thank you.”

“This is your tree?” He figured introducing a potential mate to your tree was a big deal for a dryad.

Parker froze.
Mate?

He glanced down at the smiling woman beside him and licked his lips. Her taste lingered on his tongue, and he shuddered.

Oh fuck yes. She’s my
singele sotiei.
Bloody hell. Terri is going to kill her.

“Touch the tree, Parker. She wants to say hello.” A dryad and her tree couldn’t be separated. If Amara accepted him but her tree didn’t, Parker
would
greet the dawn. He’d have no other choice.

There was no real choice. Parker would do anything his
sotiei
asked of him. He touched Amara’s tree and found himself sucked into an intellect so alien yet so familiar he felt overwhelmed. That intelligence delved into him, sought out his darkest places, basked in the sunshine he’d managed to hold on to despite his curse and the physical loss of Greg, rooted out his pettiest feelings and his deepest desires. It latched on to his feelings for Amara and turned them inside out, examined them, pulled them apart and put them back together like a child’s toy.

By the time it was done, Parker was ready to drop from exhaustion. The tree withdrew from his thoughts with a final farewell caress that meant he’d been accepted at the deepest levels.

“She likes you. She really likes you.” The pleasure and satisfaction in Amara’s voice mirrored his.

Wonderful. Now if only I can get my legs to work…

“Oh dear.” Amara gasped as Parker hit the ground with a resounding thump. “Oh boy.” She glared at her tree and tapped her foot. “What did you do to him?” Leaves rustled, the maple’s equivalent of soundless laughter. “Uh-huh. Well, at least I’m sure now Parker had nothing to do with what happened in my garden.” A leaf fell, one crimson tear shed for the loss of Amara’s last link to the woman she’d thought about calling
mother.
“Thank you.”

Maybe she could ask Parker to help her figure out who had done it and why. The townspeople were prime suspects, but they’d never before damaged the garden. Indeed, some of the people who actively disliked her loved that garden and would be as devastated as she was at its loss.

One way or another Amara would get to the bottom of the destruction. The destroyer would hurt when she was done with them. Then she could begin rebuilding the dream she and Glinda had shared. She’d made a start already by clearing away some of the death and destruction. She’d prepare the ground, fertilize it well, and when the growing time came, she’d be there as always. It would take years for the mature trees to grow back, for the plants to spread and thrive.

Amara picked Parker up and slung him over her shoulder, careful to keep his head from bouncing on the ground. He was a foot taller than her, and she didn’t want to accidentally damage him. “I’m taking him home. You be good. We’ll talk when I get back.”

She carted him through the gate and back to his house. “If he can go in without an invitation, then so can I.” She opened his front door, only to shut it again so quickly she feared she’d permanently bruised his right butt cheek. “Or not.” She blinked, trying to erase the sight of a naked Brian bent over the arm of Parker’s leather couch. “I do
not
want to know.”

She sighed and shifted Parker. He wasn’t all that heavy, but his limp body was terribly awkward. “Guess you’re sleeping at my house tonight. Where do vampires sleep anyway? Do you need a coffin? A pile of dirt? Blackout curtains?” She hoisted him through the door, almost knocking over her antique umbrella stand with his head. She’d better call Dragos. The elder vampire would know what to do.