Dalton, Tymber - Love and Brimstone [Brimstone Vampires 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (19 page)

But only a little guilty.

* * * *

Matthias returned three days later, just before midnight. Taz was working on her laptop in the library, a Dave Brubeck CD on the stereo. Matthias had an awesome collection of jazz music. She’d give him brownie points for that.

“Hello, Anastazia.” The sound of his voice startled her. She never heard him walk in. She also hated the way her heart skipped at the sound of his voice.

“Did you find out anything?” she asked.

“Not as much as I’d like. Whatever’s going on, it originated here in the States. The other Clans are as outraged as I am and are sending assistance.”

She’d had time to think things through and sent him a test thought.

“Testing one, two, three, you big dumb jerk.”

He smiled. “Yes, I can still hear you.”

“Shit.”

“Would you feel better if I slept downstairs?” he asked.

“No.”

She watched him stifle another smile.

“This sucks!” Even she had to laugh at that one before her laughter turned to sobs.

Apparently alarmed by her reaction, he went to her, put his arms around her, then folded her against his chest. She didn’t have to speak.

“You were dying, I thought I was going to lose you before I even knew you, and now you can read my thoughts. Oh my God this sucks…”

He whispered to her, “It’s okay…it’s okay,” as he rocked her in his arms, comforting her.

She eventually composed herself and sat up. He handed her a tissue. “Better?”

She nodded.

“I could stay in the guest house, if you’d prefer.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He reached out and gently stroked her hair. “You’ve been through a lot. You haven’t had time to process it. It’s overwhelming.”

She reached out and pulled him to her, kissing him. Then she pushed him away, shocking herself at her lack of self-control.

Why couldn’t she control herself around him?

And God, did it matter? He was a hunk, and she wanted him! Taz reached for him again, but he sat back and gently grabbed her wrists.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“But I want—”

“Listen to me, Anastazia. You aren’t ready. I’m not going to do that to you. If you decide you want to have a relationship with me, we will. I’m patient. I can wait. But I won’t take advantage of you, especially when you’re vulnerable.”

She felt herself falling into his deep, blue eyes, sleep overtaking her.

She let her sleepy voice drift into his mind. “
Taz.”

“What?” he said.

She felt her eyes getting heavy, so tired. Was this more of his vampire powers? “You can call me Taz,” she whispered.

* * * *

She awoke the next morning, alone, in her bed. He must have carried her upstairs.

Damn it, that is
so
not fair!

He could read her mind
and
put her to sleep?

“This sucks.”

She showered and dressed and stormed downstairs. Matthias was already at the kitchen table.

“We need to talk,” he said.

There was a full spread laid out on the table for breakfast. She sat and scooped food onto her plate. She dug in, choosing to eat instead of talk.

If he wants to know what I’m thinking, he can read my mind, by God.

Matthias smiled. She pointed her fork at him. “You are
sooo
on my shit list, buddy, it’s not even funny.”

“I know. I deserve it.”

The food was delicious. She recognized Robertson’s hand in the food, in the eggs and pancakes. God, she felt like she could eat a horse!
Talk about a bottomless pit.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Matthias apologized.

She stared at him for a long moment. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“I thought it best you get a good night’s sleep so we could deal with things today.”

“What things?”

Matthias took a deep breath. “I know you’re used to being in control. This is one time you must let us guide you and take charge of the situation. Just until we can find out who’s behind this and make it safe for you again.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“And I wanted to warn you it’s possible you might not feel like yourself. Between the shock of how you found out and then with what happened the other day between us, your instincts and powers are rapidly awakening. It may feel very overwhelming. You might have wild mood swings, anything from anger to euphoria.”

“You’ve obviously never seen me PMSing.”

He smiled. “We wanted to ease you into this transition, help you develop your skills. Robertson did as much as he could to teach you self-control, but it’s obvious you are far more powerful than we first thought. You have to be very careful not to let it get away from you.”

She snorted. “Riiight.” Well, she did feel jumpy, but that could easily be because of Matthias. Or her third cup of coffee.

“Ask me anything you want,” he offered.

She thought about it and decided it couldn’t hurt to play along. “If you’re”—she tried to do the math in her head and gave up—“around six hundred years old, how the hell did you manage to stay under the radar for so long? And how did you amass such a fortune?

“Six hundred and nine.”

“Aw, you don’t look a day over five hundred.”

Apparently used to her snark, he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I wasn’t always a businessman. I ended up in government for a while. Eventually, when I had to move on, I became an entrepreneur. I’d create a business, run it for several years, then sell it to someone else.”

“Who would actually be you?”

He nodded. “Yes. Obviously it was easier to shuffle that kind of thing around before computers and the Internet. Ironically, now it’s easier to stay personally anonymous, but the business must be run legally to avoid scrutiny.”

She thought about what Bob Stanley said. “So Bob wasn’t dealing with your father?”

Matthias shook his head. “Me.”

“And what do you do now? To shuffle things around?” This was a surreal conversation.

“I have a few doctors on the payroll. Every few years one of them creates a new birth certificate for me. I file for a social security number, hold onto it.”

“So what is your real name?”

“Matthias is my real name. But I have to create new personas for legal purposes. I mean, really, I can’t go around with a driver’s license listing my birth date as 1900, can I? I use corporate credit cards, have several trusts, so I only have to update my personal identity every couple of decades.”

“How do you keep track?”

“Albert is my right hand. I could never do it without him.”

Albert and Robertson had snuck in at some point. She looked at Albert. Then it hit her. “How old are you?”

“Four hundred and eighty-four.”

She spit her mouthful of coffee into her mug. It was that or spray it across the table, and spit takes weren’t attractive. “But you look older than Matthias.”

“I don’t have as much of the line in me. Which is why I couldn’t help him the other day.”

She looked at Robertson, speechless.

“Two hundred ninety-seven. I’m the baby. Well, except for you, sweetheart.”

She closed her eyes. This was too much, too soon. Overload. “What about me?” she asked.

“According to the lab report,” Matthias said, “you have nearly all the DNA markers that we are aware of. The line is very strong in you, but we still don’t know for sure what combination of talents you have. Don’t you think it’s odd you’re thirty-five and still get carded? By everyone?”

She looked at him and he continued. “No wrinkles. No grey, without any cosmetic assistance at all. When was the last time you got sick, had a cold, a bruise? And look how fast your wrist healed.”

She stared at him. She just thought she was healthy. Lucky. Fortunate.

Matthias smiled. “Do you notice when you walk into a room, you immediately make friends? People gravitate to you. You could sell ice to Eskimos. All the times you got your friends out of trouble in school by smiling and talking them out of it, how they let you handle the cops or their parents or teachers for them. How you are so successful at your job. How you went into court and won cases even when the evidence was against your client. You’ve got a record Perry Mason would drool over.”

She opened her mouth to object then closed it. She couldn’t argue with a thing he’d said.

“And how many traffic tickets have you had?” he continued. “I don’t mean how many times you’ve been stopped, but actually ticketed?”

None. She had her father’s lead foot. Considering she quit counting the traffic stops when she hit twenty-five, the number was considerable. There were three or four stops a month.

The officer always issued her a verbal warning.

Matthias continued. “Notice I don’t have any women employed directly underneath me, except you. My executive assistants are all men. Otherwise I’d never get anything done. Women don’t feel catty toward you. They want to be your friend because they trust you, want to be around you. Didn’t you notice while you didn’t feel…” He hunted for the word. “Spectacular about any of the men you dated and had relationships with, they were absolutely nuts for you? You’d look them in the eye and they’d lose their train of thought, want to touch you, plead with you not to leave. You always wondered why they seemed so strong at first. Then they just seemed to melt, to change into someone without any will of their own.”

She wanted to yell, slap his face. How
dare
he know so much about her?

And how true it was. Every word.

“And Robertson didn’t even tell me most of that,” he quietly added.

It took her a moment to find her voice. “How did you know?”

Matthias leaned back. “Because, Taz, you and I are a lot alike.” To Albert he said, “Call Mayfield, please.”

Albert looked puzzled, but went to fetch the head groundskeeper.

“I see you need a demonstration,” Matthias said. “When he comes in, I’m going to stand behind you. I want you to look him in the eyes when I give you the signal and tell him exactly what I tell you to say, all right?”

She nodded. He took her hand and helped her to her feet.

Albert returned with Mayfield, an amiable man in his fifties, married with several kids. While she hadn’t done much more than say good morning to him a few times and pay him compliments on his work, she knew from overheard conversations he was dedicated, devoted to his job, and took great personal pride in the rose garden. Featured in magazines like
Southern Living
and
Florida Gardener
, he had cultivated a show-stopping collection of rare heirlooms. Carefully framed copies of the articles hung, prominently displayed, in the living room.