Her Devoted Vampire (12 page)

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Do I really believe he can sense the
future? Do I really believe he’s a psychic vampire?

She
flexed her hand, remembering how his hand had zipped itself back together after
he cut it with her knife.

Yeah, I think I do. But that means I have to believe
he’s right about me being the Avatar of the Goddess and him being my servant.

“I don’t
want or need a servant.” She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort.

“It’s
not that kind of service.” He closed the distance between them. “I serve you by
protecting you as a guard, or perhaps teaching you more about your heritage. It
isn’t subservience so much as bringing myself
and
you honor by serving.”

Bridget
tightened her grip and closed her eyes as the enormity of the truth hit her. If
she was the Avatar of the Goddess, and he was her protector, it stood to reason
danger really stalked her, and she needed his protection. She wanted to curl
into a ball and hide until it all went away, but she sensed his approach
blocked her path to the bed as his scent filled her nose. She didn’t need to
open her eyes to know he’d stopped in front of her close enough to touch.

“I don’t
really understand what is going on and why all this is happening,” she
whispered as her fear and confusion overwhelmed her. “None of this makes any
sense to me.” And she started to cry.

Chapter Six

Bloody hell, please don’t cry!

Fredrick’s
heart bled with her tears, and before he thought about it, he’d gathered her
into his arms. He tried to tell himself it was just to comfort his Avatar, but
deep down he knew it was more. He’d watched her for months, slowly falling in
love with the red-headed woman who watered her plants with such loving
attention and read romance novels while she sipped coffee. He’d dreamed of
holding her, and the first taste of reality when she’d stroked his chest had
been better than any dream.

Every
time he touched her, the electricity of their connection vibrated through his
body, reminding him of his duty and his desire to offer her pleasure and
comfort. Goddess above, he could take her right now, but he had no wish to
drive her away with his lust. He had to sternly remind his body it had to stay
calm. That was almost more difficult than watching her cry.

When she
relaxed into his embrace, his heart danced a hopeful jig. She smelled like the
sour scent of rotting vegetation, and she shook against his chest. Her fear
screamed at him from the tension of her shoulders, but he didn’t know if it
stemmed from him or her legacy. He was one of the monsters she’d been taught to
fear since childhood. Bram Stoker had painted a dismal picture of the men and
women unfortunate enough to receive the genetic code allowing them to live
after death.

“I’ve
got you. I’m here, Bridget. I’ll always be here from now on.”

Her
breath hitched, and more tears soaked the front of his shirt. “You’ve said that
before.”

“I
have?”

“Yeah,
in my dream. At least, I think it was a dream.”

“You’ve
dreamed about me?” Giddy delight uncurled within him.

She
nodded, rubbing her cheek against his chest, and he suddenly wished he’d left
his shirt off.

“What
was I doing in this dream?”

“You came
to rescue me.”

“Did I
now?” Pride swelled his chest, but he resisted the urge to push it out. “Perhaps
now you can believe I’d do that in your waking life as well as in your dreams.”

It was
the wrong thing to say. He felt her withdraw from him as soon as the words left
his mouth, and he mentally smacked his forehead. Her scent changed from rotting
vegetation to the smell of the land drying after flood waters recede. She
finally pushed herself back from him and rubbed her face with her hands.

Fredrick
missed her soft body against his immediately.

“Bridget.”

She held
up one hand to forestall him.

“I need
to think about this. Is there any way I can go outside and walk in the fresh
air? I think better when I’m walking.”

He
glanced at the window. The clouds had cleared, and the nearly full moon blazed
white against an inky black curtain of stars. It provided enough light to see the
contours of the land around the house and the shimmer of the river through the
bare trees. The idea of her outside alone made his gut clench, and he had to
force his hands to relax from involuntary fists.

With that much light, Cynthia and her wolves will have
no trouble seeing her. Bridget will be fine if she says on the estate.

“Of
course, but stay on the grounds so that Cynthia or I can get to you if you
should need us.”

“I
will,” she said so softly only his vampire hearing picked it up. “I won’t run again.”

Fredrick
felt chagrin settle into his chest. “That was for your protection.”

“I know.
Because there’s danger around me.”

“I realize
it doesn’t make sense to you, but I’ve learned to listen to my instincts. They’re
screaming for me to protect you.” He shrugged helplessly, wishing he could
convey the urgency he felt. “We’re bound, Bridget, and I’ll do my utmost to
keep you safe, not only because you’re Goddess-born, but also because—”

He
stopped himself before he said too much. She’d never believe he’d fallen in
love with her without having actually met her.

“Because
I’m a gentleman, and I can’t stand back when I know I can help,” he finished
lamely, aching to tell her the truth.

“Thank
you for your help.” Her face belied her words.

“Bridget.”

“I’ll be
okay. I just need to think.” She strode past him and found her shoes, tugging
them on in the growing silence. Looking back up at him, she said, “I’m trying
to understand it all. I just need a little time.”

“Of
course, take all the time you need. Just stay close.”

“I
will.” Then she was gone.

Fredrick
stifled the urge to go after her and hold her against his chest, inhaling her
scent. She’d told him she needed to think and walk, and she’d promised she
wouldn’t run away again. He had to believe in her word. He had to believe she’d
call if she needed him, and he’d hear it no matter where she was on the estate.
He told himself to calm down. She should be safe here, but the feeling of
danger persisted and made his back crawl.

He heard
the front door close, and the sound unlocked his feet from the floor of her
room. He had to find something else to do other than brood on what haunted her
thoughts. She’d come to understand what he told her. She had to. The flare of
the marks on their bodies confirmed the truth. Now it made sense why she’d been
in his visions, but the danger floated like a hazy phantom on the horizon, just
out of sight.

Fredrick
gritted his teeth as he left the room and strode downstairs to find Cynthia or
Matt. He didn’t want the werewolves to tackle Bridget to the ground if they saw
her outside. It wouldn’t win him any points, and she’d never trust him to keep
his word.

His guts
tightened as doubt assailed his mind. Would she really keep her word? His steps
veered for the front door, and he’d gripped the brass door-pull before he could
give himself a mental shake.

She’s not running. She promised. I have to trust her.

Fredrick
rested his head against the glossy wooden surface, inhaling the scent of
mahogany and wood stain until his fears retreated back to a manageable level.

Do I trust her? Can I?

He
searched deep down in his gut and realized Bridget had never once done anything
contrary to what she said she would. In all his visions, she’d struck him as a
woman who stayed true to her word and commitments. She may have turned his
world upside down, but she’d never been dishonest in his experience. He
believed Bridget and trusted her to do as she promised.

Taking a
deep breath and rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension, Fredrick released
the door and headed for the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances, golden
Italian marble countertops, and oak cabinets soothed his irritation, and he
found Cynthia leaning over the large island in the middle of the black marble
tiled floor. She’d ignored the four tall chairs pushed up to the bar on the
backside of the island as she read a thick book with cup of coffee in her hand.

“Bridget
went out to go for a walk,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “She promised to
stay on the grounds, but I don’t want any of the werewolves to tackle her
tonight.”

“You
trust her not to run?” Cynthia asked, raising her eyebrows.

He
nodded. “I do. It’s a lot to take in. Werewolves, vampires, the Goddess. And … everything
else.”

“You
mean that you’re in love with her?”

He
looked at Cynthia sharply, but said nothing.

She
chuckled and shook her head. “Fredrick, you’ve known me for years. When have
werewolves
not
known what’s going on?
I can smell your emotions, though I’ll admit, yours are more subtle than
humans’.”

“I
didn’t know that,” he said thoughtfully. “What does love smell like? And are
you certain that’s what I’m feeling?”

Cynthia
snorted. “It’s obvious, Fredrick. You only get this twitchy when you’re
concerned about someone you care for. And love smells like…” She stopped and
sniffed deeply then her eyes opened wide. “Whoa. You smell like
her
. Did you mate with her?”

“No!” he
barked and snapped his mouth closed around the desperation in his voice. “No, I
just proved to her the connection between Goddess-blessed and Goddess-born.”

“That’s
one heck of a connection if you smell like her,” Cynthia said
 
with a grin. “And
that’s
what love smells like. Your scent blends with that of your
mate. Good for you, Fredrick. Does she love you, too?”

Fredrick
sighed roughly. “I have no idea. I didn’t ask. She has enough to worry about
right now.”

Cynthia
gave a scoffing growl. “No one has too much to think about to know if they love
someone. Why didn’t you didn’t ask her?”

“I
didn’t want to push.” He shrugged and dragged a finger over the granite. “But I
don’t really
need
her to love me. It’s
possible to love someone without that person loving you back. Look at Szilvia.”

“Keep your
chin up.” She grasped his hand. “Your relationship didn’t start out well, but
other than holding her hostage under the pretense of protection, you haven’t
really done anything to hurt her.”

He wore chagrin
like a coat. “Well…”

“You
hurt her, too?”

“Not
purposely.” He hated the defensive note in his voice. “I was holding her arm
when she jerked away.”

Cynthia’s
eyebrows hit her hairline, but she said nothing as she watched him squirm.

“And it’s
not a pretense. She’s still in danger. I just don’t know how.” He desperately
looked for something else to talk about and his gaze landed on her book. “What
are you reading? It looks like Tolstoy’s
War
and Peace
.”

“Close. It’s
C. S. Lewis’s
Chronicles of Narnia
collected
in one book.”

Fredrick
smirked. “A werewolf reading
The
Chronicles of Narnia
?”

“Hey,
it’s a great set of stories, and who says there are no dragons just because you
haven’t seen one? Bridget had never seen a vampire, but here you are making fun
of me.”

He
wanted to stick his tongue out at her, but he told himself he was too dignified
for such behavior. “Where’s Szilvia?”

“I don’t
know. I think she went out for a bite, but I haven’t seen her for a while. Why?”

“I
wanted to clarify some business opportunities that have come up with her—”

Sharp
fear streaked up his back, cutting him off, and his heart damn near stopped.
His heart thundered, and he braced for evasive action, hissing as he bared his
canines. Cynthia reacted to his aggressive grimace with a low growl and pushed
herself off the stool like mercury.

Fredrick
searched the shadows of the kitchen for danger, but when he only found calm, he
realized the panic had an outside source. His connection to Bridget shrieked
with warning and terrified fury, and he launched himself for the door even
before his hearing picked up the screaming.

Something
had attacked Bridget on his own grounds.

Chapter Seven

Bridget
stood still for a moment outside the door to the big house, inhaling the brisk
air. Winter had arrived despite the date on the calendar. She smelled the
changes in the ground, of plants and animals settling in for the cold season. She
shivered with unease.