The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (16 page)

He pondered a question in his mind . . .
Do you believe in vampyres?
He didn’t know how to begin the crazy conversation. Because that’s exactly what she’d think after a question like that—he’s batshit crazy.

She pulled away from him, slowly, and distracted his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” He looked into her eyes.

“Mmm . . . I just have this feeling you want to tell me something.”

He smiled and ran his finger over her soft lips. His other hand massaged the back of her neck. “You’re captivating.”

She closed her eyes and smiled.

He kissed her again. He knew what she wanted because he could sense it. He heard the thoughts racing through her mind, along with the beating of her heart as it tried desperately to compete with her breathing. The wall blocking her thoughts from outside temptations wasn’t there right now. He was happy she couldn’t read his. It wouldn’t be a good thing, to read a vampyre’s mind. If he were to act on his thoughts, he’d no longer be a gentleman, though he hadn’t always been one. Unpleasant things resided in his history. Things he didn’t care to bring to light anytime soon.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” she said. Confusion crept though her mind. “I thought we’d order out.”

“Do you have anything here?”

“I have some things, but it’s probably not enough to make a meal.”

“Let’s see what you have. I bet there’s something I can use.”

“
You
can use? Are you cooking?”

“Aye . . . and I stopped because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He took her hand and led her down the hall toward the kitchen.

“How did you know I was thinking that?”

“I’m psychic.” He turned his head, grinning from ear to ear. His brow jumped up and down.

“No, really, how?”

“Your eyes told me.” He walked over to the pantry and stuck his head inside.

Seeing a body standing at her pantry door without a head was pretty damn amusing, but she admired the view all the same. He was in great shape and she wondered how often he worked out.

He backed out of the pantry with a few things in his hands and placed them on the counter. He turned around again and did the same with the refrigerator.

She tried to hold back her laughter when he started throwing things together in a pan. It was too cute. She’d never had a man cook for her.
He’s definitely unique
.

“Well, aren’t we the master chef? I had no idea. What else can you do?”

“Anything you want me to.”

“Oh really? I’ll have to remember that.”

His long hair fell forward when he turned back to his creation. Seeing this, she stood up from the stool and disappeared down the hall. A minute later she reemerged and stood next to him.

“What’s that for?” He eyed the elastic band she held in her hand.

“Your hair,” she said.

He smiled. “What, you don’t like hair in your food?”

“Not particularly, although I always say the chef is not responsible for dog hair in the food.”

He chuckled. “Go ahead then. I’ll let you do it.” He stood back from the stove and faced her, his arms outstretched, welcoming her.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back.
It’s so soft
. He stood there smiling at her, watching her, sniffing her perfume with a deep breath. She fumbled and flipped his hair around to get the elastic band on. His breath tickled her neck. She fidgeted, trying to hurry so she could get out of the position that threw her nerves completely out of whack. It made her want to run away from him as far and as quickly as possible or attack him and get it over with. She hadn’t had much sexual experience.

When she finally finished, she went to step back. He placed his hands on her waist, pulled her forward again, and pressed her body against his. Her heart skipped.

“Were you uncomfortable earlier?”

What was it about him? She felt like she’d always known him and was completely comfortable around him, except when they were close. Maybe she was afraid of getting hurt again, but Grant didn’t seem to want to hurt her. Not like Rob. Once again, she was reminded of her poor judgment when it came to men. However, Rob was different. She’d been vulnerable when she met him. She reminded herself that vulnerability was no excuse for letting a man like Rob control her.

She looked up at Grant—into his beautiful ice blue eyes—and decided to follow her heart. “No, I wasn’t.”

“But you are now.”

“It’s my problem, not yours.”

“Actually, if it’s yours, it’s mine as well. I want you to understand something, Kylie. I’d never make you do anything you aren’t ready for.”

She nodded and smiled. Her hand covered his cheek, and she moved closer to him. “Your concoction is going to burn.”

He turned his head and quickly pulled away from her. “Bloody hell.”

She laughed.

He looked at her and stirred the food. “Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?”

She nodded and covered her mouth with both hands. He moved the pan to the back burner and turned toward her. Her eyes widened and she took a step back.

“Come here,” he said, motioning to her with his finger.

“No way.” She stepped back again. The cat and mouse game began.

“Come now, be a good lassie.”

“I’m not your dog.”

He laughed. “Have it your way.” He took a step closer to her.

She moved back again, still laughing. Another step closer and she turned toward the living room.

He ran after her.

Grant captured Kylie next to the sofa, lost his balance, and they both tumbled onto the cushions, laughing. He tickled her.

“Stop it.” Kylie said it loud enough that Grant winced. It’d felt like a thousand needles pricked his eardrums.

“No, not until you say you’re sorry for laughing at me.” He grinned and continued.

“Okay, okay . . . I’m sorry,” she yelled out, still laughing hard.

He stopped for a moment. “Are you?”

“No.” She jumped up. He grabbed her, pulled her back down, and started tickling again.

Kylie kicked and tried to get his hands away from her sides, but she didn’t try hard enough. He sat on her legs to keep her from kicking him anymore and leaned forward, his face only inches above hers.

“Say it . . . and mean it,” he said.

“Say . . . what?”

“You know what.” He grabbed her sides again.

“All . . . right . . . I’m . . . I’m . . . sorry!”

He stopped, tilted his head and looked at her, one eyebrow arched.

“I mean it.”

Her laughter died down and he pushed the hair out of her face. Kylie finally caught her breath. She looked up into his eyes and pushed back the few locks of hair that fell out of his ponytail. She slid her hand around the back of his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him. Her other hand ran down his chest, feeling every muscle. She ran her hand under his shirt, making it obvious to him what she wanted.

“Kylie, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he whispered in her ear.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to think this is the only reason I’m here, since we just met.”

She smiled softly and ran her finger over his lips. His tongue slipped out to lick it. “I don’t think that, and I wouldn’t want you to think I do this a lot.”

“I would never think that of you.” He leaned forward to kiss her again, but took a detour and ran his tongue along her neck.

Suddenly, he jumped up. “Okay, time for dinner.”

She giggled as he helped her up.

Grant headed for the kitchen again and finished cooking their meal. He just had to get his damn thoughts somewhere other than ripping her clothes off and taking her wherever the hell she stood.

Okay, that wasn’t helping at all.

* * * * *

They sat on the sofa talking for hours. She listened to his stories and couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this great.

“So, you’ve traveled all over the world?” She sipped her wine, and curled her feet under her.

“Yes, a few times,” he replied. “It’s a bit of a necessity in my business.” He grinned from ear to ear.

Jealousy bit, but she pushed it back. “That must be incredible.”

“Haven’t you ever gone anywhere?” He poured the last of the wine into their glasses.

“No, not really. I’ve never left the country, except for a few trips down to Mexico, but I’d love to go to Europe someday, and Australia.”

He laughed. “You’re an artist and you’ve never traveled anywhere. Incredible.”

“Why is that so incredible? And I told you, I’ve been to Mexico.”

He shook his head. “Don’t take it wrong, please. It’s just that . . . every successful artist I’ve ever met has at least been to Europe. Some, to study.”

“Well, I guess I’m not normal then,” she said and bit her lower lip.

“I don’t really care for normal all that much.”

“Me either, too many restrictions.”

He laughed. “You’re an incredible woman, Kylie O’Rourke.” He leaned forward and took her glass.

He placed both glasses on the table next to the third empty bottle of wine and slowly moved forward to kiss her. He ran his tongue along her soft neck and they got caught up in the heat of the moment again.

She pulled his shirt off and bit her lower lip. Every muscle in his upper body rippled. He was in pretty good shape for his age, which she figured to be somewhere in the mid-thirties, close to her own age. She ran her hands over his chest.

He leaned forward again and laid her back against the arm of the sofa.

“I really should leave,” he whispered.

“I don’t want you to,” she replied.

“I know, but—”

“Besides, you’ve had too much wine. We both have—”

“Exactly why I should leave,” he said.

“If you get in an accident, I’ll never forgive myself for letting you drive.”

He pushed himself up and focused on her face. If he were to get into an accident, he’d be fine, but he’d most likely scare the hell out of the coroner. He found it intriguing she was so concerned with his safety. He’d grown so cold toward people over the centuries. Everyone he’d cared about was gone and he didn’t want to feel that kind of pain again. Of course, there were a few here and there he sympathized, whether he knew them or not. But she made him feel warm inside. She re-ignited the flame in his heart that had gone out so long ago.

“You’re sweet to be concerned about me—”

“I like you, Grant.”

“I like you too, Ky.” He paused, staring into her wondrous emerald eyes. “Well then, can I sleep on your couch?”