Chapter Two
Dana made the necessary adjustments to the chair, then showed Aidan how to sit and where to place his face and arms.
“This is supposed to be relaxing?” he queried, doubt in his deep, warm voice.
Grinning, she moved to stand behind him. “You’ll see. Before I begin, are there any medical conditions or injuries I should know about?”
“No.”
“Just making sure.” She rested her hands on his shoulders.
Aidan chuckled.
“What?” she asked as she began to stroke his back.
“It’s my warped sense of humor. I was tempted to let out a long, loud moan as soon as you touched me just to see how you’d react.”
Dana laughed. She really liked this guy.
Beginning with some open-palm compressions, she worked her way down either side of his spine, then switched to loose-fist compressions.
Usually the muscles in the client’s back and shoulders were tight with stress. But Aidan’s muscles were surprisingly loose and relaxed.
Kneading her way up to his shoulders, she began to work contralaterally, holding his shoulder with one hand while she applied pressure to his scapula with the heel of the other.
Minutes passed. And with each she relaxed a little bit more herself.
No more flashes of Aidan covered in blood struck her.
That had been unnerving. And she had feared, more than a little bit, that the same would happen as soon as she touched him again.
“Let me know if I use too much pressure,” she said as she began forearm compressions. “Or not enough.”
He grunted. “Feels wonderful. I think your other customers have been lying to you.”
“About what?”
“I think they come here for the massage and the psychic reading is just icing on the cake.”
She chuckled.
His back was so broad. Had she ever touched a man who was so ripped with muscle before?
None of her other clients could compare. And she sure as hell had never dated any man who was so physically fit.
Thin? Sure. Strong enough to hoist her over his head with one arm? Definitely not.
Feeling all of that lovely muscle under her hands affected her in very unprofessional ways. She moved to his side, lifted one of his arms and draped it in the crook of her own, then began manipulating his shoulder.
Her heart began to pound. Get a grip, Dana, she scolded herself as she stroked and kneaded his big biceps with both hands, working her way slowly down his arm to his hand. His large, smooth, tanned hand that could easily encompass both of hers.
How did he work out without getting calluses?
She kneaded his hand, stroked his fingers. And suddenly saw those fingers cup her bare shoulder and slide down to clasp her breast.
Her breath caught at the vision. It was so clear! She could see and feel everything as if it were real.
Aidan knelt before her on a huge bed. Both of them were naked.
His big hand squeezed her breast. His fingers and thumb teased her nipple, sending fire dancing through her. Dark head dipping, he lowered his lips to her other breast and took the tight peak between warm, soft lips.
Aidan jerked his hand from her grasp.
The vision vanished.
Kneeling beside him, Dana fought to keep her breath regular. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her pulse raced as arousal slithered through her body.
Still in the massage chair, Aidan reached up with the hand he had removed from her grasp and rubbed the back of his neck.
Dana stared at him, glad the face cushion blocked his view of her. She hadn’t moaned or gasped or anything like that, had she? What the hell had that been?
It certainly hadn’t been a vision of the past. So… what? Her gift was telling her that she and Aidan were going to be lovers?
Aidan lowered his arm to the armrest.
But Dana didn’t move.
What was happening here? Visions never came to her this clearly. And it had happened twice now with Aidan.
“Everything okay?” he asked, no doubt wondering why she had ceased the massage.
Was his voice a little deeper than it had been before?
“Yes,” she said, but sounded shaken even to herself. “Everything’s fine.”
“Should I not have moved?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to break the flow of things.”
Hell, if he hadn’t broken the flow of things, the vision would’ve likely continued and let her see and feel them making love until she orgasmed. It had felt that real.
“No. It’s fine.” Except she was afraid to touch him again. Even though she really wanted to touch him again. Holy crap, his hand and lips had felt good on her. She hadn’t been with a man in a long time. And Aidan’s touch had electrified her.
“Did you see something again?” he asked when she didn’t resume the massage.
“No,” she lied. What was she supposed to say? Actually, yes. I saw the two of us naked on a bed about to have what looked and felt like it would be hot, sweaty, never-want-it-to-end, never-felt-this-way-in-my-life sex.
Yeah, right. And have him think her a total perv who only used the massage thing as an excuse to fondle her clients while she fantasized about having sex with them? I don’t think so.
“I was just going to move to the other side,” she said, forcing a light, friendly tone. Rising, she moved to his other side and stared down at his strong shoulder.
“You’re worried I’m going to break your chair, aren’t you?” he asked. “Is it creaking beneath my weight?”
She smiled, relaxing a bit. “No.” Taking a deep breath, she lifted his arm and rested it in the crook of her own.
No naked flashes. No visions of his mouth on her breast.
Dana began to manipulate his shoulder, breathing a little easier every second she didn’t have another vision. Get it together, she counseled herself again and rushed through the rest of the massage. “All done,” she pronounced.
Aidan sat up, rolling his broad shoulders. “Can’t remember the last time anything felt so good.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She motioned to the comfy chairs in the corner. “Would you please have a seat over there?”
“As you will.”
When he rose, towering over her, she studiously kept her gaze from dropping below his waist. She wasn’t sure how she would react if the massage had aroused him as much as that vision had aroused her, so she thought it better to leave that a mystery.
As he seated himself in one of the chairs, she reached up and retrieved a box from the top shelf of the bookcase. Carrying it with her, Dana sat in the chair opposite him and placed the box on the table between them.
She felt his gaze like a touch as she opened the box and withdrew her tarot cards. Placing the box aside, she glanced up. “Would you shuffle the cards, please?”
Nodding, he complied. “Since your gift stems from touch, do these really help you? Or do you use them because your clients expect it?”
The words carried no sarcasm, only curiosity.
“A little of both. If I tell them what I see when I touch them, they have only my words. If I tell them what I see in the cards, they have a visual confirmation of sorts.”
“Seeing is believing,” he murmured.
“For many, yes.”
Aidan watched Dana lay the cards on the table one by one. He nodded and feigned interest as she explained what each card meant but in truth had difficulty concentrating.
His heart still hammered against his ribs. His pulse raced. His body burned.
If seeing was believing, then he might have at last found the woman for whom he had been searching. Because Dana had seen the two of them engaging in love play.
Aidan’s telepathy enabled him to read her thoughts. So he had seen it as vividly as she had. Had felt it, too, and been so swept away that he had had to break contact with her to bring the vision to an end while he fought the desire to dive off her odd chair and reenact the scene with her.
“Do your visions always come true?” he asked, interrupting her explanation of the chariot card. “The ones of the future?”
She hesitated. “More often than not I don’t so much see things as know them. My client will ask me a question and—”
“But when you do see them? When you do have visions? Do those visions always come true?”
Color invaded her cheeks as she ducked her chin and dealt another card. “Yes. They always have in the past.”
Elation filled him. Not just because she had answered him truthfully even though the question clearly flustered her. But because they would be lovers.
Lovers and something more?
It took every ounce of concentration to keep his eyes from glowing. Younger immortals couldn’t prevent the involuntary response. Any deep emotion, good or bad, tended to make their eyes glow vibrant amber, something that immediately tipped off mortals that they weren’t human. But Aidan was quite old and had more control over the response.
She frowned, her blush fading. “It looks like you have a very formidable enemy in your future, Aidan.”
He grunted. “In my business, I tend to attract them like flies.”
Dana shook her head. “This one is different.”
She must mean Gershom. That powerful bastard was determined to kick-start Armageddon. And the Immortal Guardians were having a hell of a time bringing his arse down.
She set the cards aside and reached across the table. “Let me see your hand.”
Eager to touch her again, he extended it toward her.
Taking it in her own, she turned it palm up. “You have a very long lifeline.”
His should be the longest lifeline she had ever seen.
Her brown eyes flickered up to meet his. “You’ve lived much of your life alone.”
He shrugged. “I’ve had friends. Men I consider brothers.”
“But no wife?”
“I haven’t been so fortunate, no.”
And she could feel the loneliness that plagued him. He saw it in her thoughts and felt a little lighter when she wondered how the hell that could be possible, having experienced a tiny hint of the passion he could bring a woman in her vision.
Resting her palm on his, she returned her attention to the cards. “I’m seeing deception. A lot of it.” She shook her head. “Divided loyalties. Betrayal. Something’s coming, Aidan. And when whatever happens goes down, you aren’t going to know who to trust.”
He frowned. She made it sound as if he would face whatever turbulence came alone. What of his immortal brethren? Why would they not be by his side?
The only time he had ever lost faith in any of them or eroded theirs in him was when he had broken into network headquarters and stolen the list of gifted ones. Seth had mistakenly believed Aidan had sided with the enemy responsible for Lisette’s near death. The powerful immortal leader and longtime friend had actually wanted Aidan dead until Aidan had clarified things.
But they were good now. Had been for a while.
Sure Chris Reordon still bore a grudge against him, but even he trusted Aidan to take care of business when someone needed help. So why did Dana believe Aidan would face whatever fight lay ahead without them?
He curled his fingers around hers, holding her hand as she frowned down at the cards.
Her skin was so soft. Her fingers so small.
Those fingers abruptly tightened on his, clamping down in an almost painful grip.
Reading her thoughts, Aidan saw the cards and table disappear, replaced by light.
Two men swam out of the brightness, engaged in fierce battle. Aidan didn’t notice where—if they were inside, outside, in the city or in the country—because he was too shocked by the combatants themselves.
He and Seth fought each other with a ferocity that filled his blood with ice. Their eyes glowed—his amber, Seth’s gold. Each clutched swords in both hands and swung them mercilessly, remaining in constant motion, their faces twisted with fury and determination as they did their damnedest to slay each other.
Dana yanked her hand from his grasp and leapt to her feet. Stumbling backward, away from the table, she tripped over one of the legs and nearly fell but regained her balance quickly enough to remain upright.
Stunned, Aidan slowly rose. And damned if his hands didn’t begin to shake as violently as hers did.
What the hell?
Dana said nothing, just regarded him with wide eyes, her lips parted in shock.
“Dana?” he forced himself to say in the most even tone he could muster.
She didn’t know he had just seen everything she had. She didn’t know he could read her thoughts, which now scrambled for purchase as they chased themselves around and around in her head.
“Did you see something?” he asked her.
She nodded. “You and another man trying to kill each other with swords.”
He swallowed. Think quickly. Think quickly. What would the younger immortals say? “I…” He feigned a chagrined smile. “I hate to mention this, because I don’t want you to think I’m a”—what was the word Cliff would use?—“a geek. But I’m a member of a reenactment group.”
He supposed it wasn’t technically a lie. He did spar regularly with immortal warriors who fought with blades the way battles had been fought centuries ago. Wouldn’t some consider that reenacting?
Her mouth closed. Her eyes lost some of the deer-in-the-headlights look. “Like a… like a medieval reenactment group? With swords and that kind of thing?”
Roland and Marcus were from the Middle Ages. He sparred with them. “Yes.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Okay.” She nodded, trying to rationalize it, make it work. “Okay. So you do the sword-fighting thing on a regular basis?”
“Yes.” That was certainly no lie. He fought vampires every night. But it didn’t explain the glow she had seen in his and Seth’s eyes.
Mankind’s inability to believe in magic or the fantastical came to his aid there. Even as he sought some way to explain it, she began to question whether or not she had actually seen it. Had his eyes and those of his opponent glowed? Or had it merely been a trick of the light?
Fortunately for him, neither he nor Seth had flashed fangs in the vision.
“Okay,” she repeated, her heartbeat slowing. “I gather you take that pretty seriously? I mean, you guys really looked like you were trying to kill each other.”
Yes, they had. And Aidan’s stomach clenched at the knowledge. “You think I’m a geek now, don’t you?” he jested.
She relaxed a little more. “No.”
“First I say caboose. Now this.”
She smiled. “Actually, I thought your caboose was cute.” Her eyes widened. “The caboose,” she corrected hastily. “I thought the caboose was cute. Your saying it, I mean.”
He winked. “I prefer the first one.”
She laughed. “I bet you do.” She motioned to the table. “Do you want to continue the reading?”
He shook his head. “I think I’d better take my leave before I say or reveal anything else embarrassing.”
She nodded at the cards. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you exactly what’s coming, just that it’s not good.”
He and Seth engaged in what appeared to be a battle to the death was a wee bit worse than not good. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
Aidan followed her out of the room and to the front of the store where he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and handed her his credit card. “Would you be averse to my making another appointment?”
She smiled up at him. “Not at all.”
“Excellent.”
“Any particular time of day?”
Just tell her anytime is good. Don’t rush things. “I know you now see me as a geek with a dangerous job, G-rated language, and a penchant for swords,” he began, cursing his own eagerness, “but is there any chance I could take your latest appointment and coax you into joining me for dinner afterward?”
She stared up at him.
“Or coffee?” he suggested. “Maybe some pie or ice cream?” He frowned. “What is it that women like to do when they’re testing the waters and deciding whether or not they want a man to court them?” No, that wasn’t right. “Or want to date him,” he corrected. “I meant date him.”
She grinned. He is just too freaking cute.
He relaxed when that thought came through, loud and clear. Cute was good, wasn’t it?
“How about Wednesday night, seven o’clock?” she suggested.
He grinned back. “Wednesday night it is.” Offering her a quick good-night, he left her shop feeling more lighthearted than he had in centuries.
Until he thought of her last vision.
What the hell was he going to do that would make Seth want to kill him?
Again?
Aidan jerked awake.
Though the room around him was dark, he had no difficulty seeing. His preternaturally sharp vision allowed him to make out objects in the lowest light conditions, though color could be difficult to discern.
Glancing around, he found nothing out of place. No one had invaded his new apartment. No doorbell chimed.
So what had woken him?
Voices filled his head. Louder than the voices of the employees who worked the day shift at network headquarters. Uglier voices. Craving violence. Urging the recipient of their cries to commit it.
Cliff.
Rising, Aidan drew on pants, a shirt, socks, and boots.
Cliff had once been a follower of the British immortal Sebastien Newcombe. Bastien had thought himself a vampire for two hundred years and had gathered together an army of vampires he had pitted against the Immortal Guardians in an attempt to destroy them all.
Cliff had been a member of that army, as had two other vampires, Vincent and Joe. All three had wisely chosen to surrender in the final battle Bastien had waged. And while Seth had forced Bastien to join the Immortal Guardians’ ranks, Cliff, Vincent, and Joe had come to live at the network, hoping the doctors and scientists here would be able to prevent them from descending into madness, or at least slow the decline. None had wanted to become like those who had turned them, torturing and killing innocent victims with glee.
But Dr. Melanie Lipton and her colleagues had not yet found a way to slow the progressive brain damage the virus wrought in humans or to prevent the madness.
Vincent and Joe had long since lost their battle with insanity and forfeited their lives.
Other vampires had sought the network’s help since then. But only Cliff remained of the initial three.
Aidan took a moment to brush his teeth, then wet his hands and finger-combed his tousled hair, trying to smooth the damned waves and curls.
Cliff had been transformed by a vampire against his will when he was in college. If one discounted the world-weariness that darkened the young man’s eyes, Aidan thought he looked to be about twenty-five years old. Most vampires only retained their humanity for a couple of years. If they were particularly strong, fought hard, and weren’t subjected to poor living conditions or torture that could exacerbate things, they might last four years before the madness turned them into monsters.
Cliff’s bright, healthy mind had waged its battle for six years now, valiantly fighting the effects as the virus chiseled and carved away at it. He had astounded all who knew him by remaining honorable all this time, fighting alongside the Immortal Guardians and helping them conquer their enemies. None had dared hope he would last this long.
But he was beginning to lose the battle.
Seth knew it because he could read Cliff’s thoughts and saw the mayhem in them. Aidan knew it for the same reason. He suspected Bastien knew it. Cliff was like a brother to him. And Bastien took Cliff vampire hunting with him each night, hoping to give Cliff an outlet for the increasingly strong, violent impulses that struck him.
Aidan suspected Melanie knew it as well. She toiled for longer and longer hours in the lab, desperately seeking answers and a way to prevent the inevitable.
She would blame herself when they lost him.
If they lost him, he mentally corrected, reluctant to give up hope.
Even if she could cure the virus with some new medication that would kill it, they would still lose Cliff. The first thing the virus did when one transformed was conquer and replace the body’s immune system. So if Melanie found a way to destroy the virus, Cliff and anyone else treated with the cure would be left with no viable immune system and would die.
And if—by some miracle—Melanie found a way around that, she still had no way of reversing the brain damage, no way to repair the tissue the virus corrupted. Even powerful healers like himself and Seth could not heal some forms of brain damage. The brain was just too complex.
Leaning out of the bathroom, Aidan snagged his cell phone, then ducked back inside and closed the door.
Shortly after Cliff, Vincent, and Joe had come to live at the network, Chris Reordon had brought in a construction crew and had every bathroom in the building soundproofed so the vampires would stop complaining about having to listen to employees pee, fart, and shit all day.
Aidan dialed Chris’s number.
“Reordon,” Chris answered.
“It’s Aidan. Can you get to a quiet room?”
“Just a minute.”
Aidan waited while Chris ducked into his office bathroom and closed the door so the vampires and immortals in the building wouldn’t hear their conversation.
Aidan could have saved Chris the trouble by simply speaking to him telepathically, but Chris had reacted so badly to Aidan’s tampering with some of the network guards’ minds a couple of years ago that he thought it best to leave the mortal’s mind alone.
“Okay. What’s up?” Chris asked.
“Cliff is struggling.”
He swore. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. I’m going to teleport him out and take him hunting to help him work off some of the aggression that’s building.”
“Is Bastien going with you?”
“No. I don’t want to trouble him.”
Chris made a sound of understanding. “When will you be leaving?”
“In the next five minutes or so.”
“Okay. I’ll turn the alarm off for ten minutes. Call and give me a heads-up when you’re ready to return and I’ll turn it off again.” Chris’s techno-wizards had installed an alarm that blared anytime someone teleported in or out of a room at network headquarters. Aidan didn’t know how it worked, but it had alerted them the moment Gershom had made an unexpected appearance at the network last year.
“Will do.” Pocketing his phone, Aidan left the bathroom, then his apartment, and strode down the hallway to Cliff’s door.
A dozen guards, all armed with automatic weapons and tranquilizer guns bearing the only sedative known to affect vampires and immortals, manned the end of the hallway, blocking the sole elevator and stairwell. Only employees with the highest security clearance could enter this floor, the farthest underground. And no vampires could leave without either an immortal escort or an armed escort to ensure they didn’t harm any of the network employees or—should they suffer a psychotic break—escape.
Aidan nodded to the guards. “Gentlemen.”
They nodded back. Unlike their boss, all were friendly toward Aidan, but there remained a subtle distance inspired by their awe over his age and power.
Aidan knocked on Cliff’s door.
Cliff didn’t answer.
“It’s Aidan. I’m coming in,” he announced without raising his voice.
Vampires’ hearing was nearly as acute as that of immortals, so Cliff would hear him even if he whispered.
Cliff still didn’t answer, but Aidan heard a welcome amidst the vampire’s turbulent thoughts.
Drawing a keycard out of his pocket, he swiped it, then punched in a security code. Reordon had refused to give him such until Bastien and Melanie had asked him to.
A metallic clank sounded.
Aidan pushed the door—as thick and heavy as that of a bank vault—open and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Every vampire who had sought the Immortal Guardians’ aid had been given a luxury apartment and pretty much anything he wanted to make it feel like home… except for sharp implements. (The utensils in their kitchens were limited.) The nicely painted walls, however, were reinforced with titanium and several feet of concrete that would keep the vamps from tunneling out and escaping during psychotic breaks.
Aidan glanced around.
One might expect a man battling insanity to have a cluttered, chaotic home. But Aidan thought Cliff’s apartment was tidy enough to please even the obsessive-compulsive television detective Adrian Monk.
Cliff rarely slept more than a couple of hours at a time now and constantly sought activities to keep both his mind and hands busy.
Maintaining an immaculate living space appeared to be one such activity.
Today Cliff sat on a cushy sofa, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, his fingers curling into fists and clutching his shoulder-length dreadlocks so tightly that Aidan worried he might pull his hair out.
Cliff didn’t look up as Aidan approached.
Aidan sat down beside him.
The voices were louder this morning, the internal battle the young vampire waged fiercer than ever.
Aidan listened to those voices and felt his heart sink.
Though Cliff hated to admit defeat, he was considering asking Bastien to end it for him. To kill him now before he lost the last of his lucidity and became the equivalent of a rabid dog.
Cliff would end it himself but didn’t want Melanie to find him… or whatever would be left after the virus devoured him from the inside out.
Aidan rested a hand on Cliff’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” Cliff whispered in a pained voice one might expect to hear emerge from the lips of someone with a pounding migraine.
“Stand up.”
Lowering his clenched fists, Cliff did so and raised glowing amber eyes full of anguish.
“Don’t be afraid,” Aidan murmured, then teleported them to a beautiful vale in Scotland.
Cliff cried out as bright afternoon sunlight bathed them.
Aidan tightened his hold on the vampire’s shoulder to keep him from bolting for the trees. “Don’t.”
Cliff threw up his hands to shield his face. The violent voices in his head shrieked and wailed, then went silent in the face of the fear that struck him.
A moment passed.
Aidan’s hand heated where he touched Cliff as his healing gift went to work.
When the vampire’s flesh didn’t begin to blister from exposure, Cliff slowly lowered his hands. Squinting against the brightness, he stared down at his exposed arms.
His smooth brown skin remained healthy. No blisters formed. No pain struck.
Cliff looked up with wide eyes, his heart beginning to pound. “How is this possible? Am I hallucinating? Is this…? Am I having another psychotic break?”
“No.” Aidan smiled. “I can heal with my hands and am using my gift to heal the damage the sun is doing in real time.”
“You can do that?” Cliff asked with astonishment.
Aidan nodded. “I wasn’t sure I could until I tried it with Ethan. I can’t say he was very pleased about being my guinea pig, but he owed me.”
A little huff of laughter escaped Cliff. “Well, you did transform his wife for him so she’d be superstrong.”
The Immortal Guardians had come to understand in recent years that, unlike those transformed by vampires, gifted ones who were transformed by immortals tended to become as strong and durable as those who transformed them. So Ethan’s wife Heather was now as fast and strong as Aidan and even had his greater tolerance for daylight, something Ethan couldn’t have given her had he transformed her himself because he had only been immortal for a century or so.
Cliff closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the sky. “It’s warm,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten how warm sunlight is. And that you can feel it on your skin.”
“With your heightened senses, you feel it a little more now.”
Cliff shook his head. When he opened his eyes, tears glistened in them. “I never thought I would feel it again. Not unless…”
Not unless he decided to end it that way, by walking into the daylight and letting the sun sear the madness—and his life—away.
Aidan squeezed his shoulder. “Every day you hold out, Cliff, every day you keep fighting, I’ll give you this. I’ll give you the sun.”
Cliff’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”
Aidan shrugged. His skin prickled unpleasantly as he took the damage the sun did to Cliff and absorbed it into his own body, keeping Cliff healthy. The longer they remained, the more it would hurt. “It’s a mild discomfort at most,” he lied.
But Cliff was a smart man. He knew better. “Why would you do this for me?”
“Because you’re my friend. My brother. And this is what brothers do for each other.” Aidan knew Cliff would’ve done the same for him. The two had become good friends since Aidan had transferred to North Carolina.
Cliff nodded. “I would do it for you.”
Aidan didn’t doubt it. Cliff was an extraordinary man. “You hear that?”
Cliff cocked his head to one side, listening. “What?”
Aidan grinned. “I think we shocked the voices into silence.” No cries for violence filled the young vampire’s mind.
Cliff laughed, his shoulders loosening with relief. “I think you’re right. My mind hasn’t been this quiet in a long time.” He took in the beautiful scenery. “Where are we?”
“My home in Scotland.”
“All this land is yours?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. You’re a lucky man.” He sent Aidan a sly glance, appearing more at ease than Aidan had seen him in months. “Are you sure you aren’t just trying to keep me alive longer so I can help you find a wife?”
Aidan laughed. “You’ve caught me. That’s exactly why.”
Since Cliff had heightened hearing and spent most of his time at the network, he knew a lot about the gifted ones who worked there and had been sharing that information with Aidan in hopes of aiding him in his quest to find love.
“Any luck yet?” Cliff asked, watching a hawk float above them on the breeze.
Aidan shrugged. “I met Veronica Becker.”
“You did? I thought you had crossed her off the list because she’s still mourning her husband.”
“I did. But she got a flat tire.”
Cliff gave him a pointed stare.
“It wasn’t me,” Aidan protested.
“Sure it wasn’t.”
Aidan laughed. “It truly wasn’t, but she thought it was.”
Cliff grinned. “Figured it out, did she?”
“Yes, and kindly suggested I find another MO.”
The vampire laughed. “I told you so. North Carolina is like a small town. Word gets around.”
“Well, when I didn’t show up to change her flat tire, she got out to do it herself and was attacked by vampires.”
Cliff’s smile vanished. “Is she okay?”
Aidan nodded, trying to ignore the stinging pain that intensified in his skin. “She’s fine. I escorted her and her son home, then went to see Dana Pembroke.”
“The psychic?”
“Yes.”
“How’d that go?”
“She had a vision of the two of us making love.”
Cliff’s eyebrows flew up as his face brightened with a smile. “That’s awesome!”
“Aye. And she agreed to go out to dinner with me tonight.”
“Do you think she’s the one?”
Aidan shrugged. “I don’t know. But I like her.”
“And she’s psychic and saw you two naked together. Holy hell, that’s a good sign.”
Aidan grinned. “I hope so.”
The hawk’s shadow swept across them as it took off after whatever prey had caught its attention.
Cliff surveyed the countryside around them. “It’s weird. The things you take for granted. The things you wouldn’t expect to miss much if they were taken away.”
Most Immortal Guardians could tolerate at least a few minutes of direct sunlight and several more of indirect sunlight. The older the immortal, the more powerful they were and the more sun exposure they could tolerate.
Aidan was quite old.
But vampires began to blister as soon as the sun’s rays touched their skin. They couldn’t tolerate any exposure at all.
“I’ve always been a night owl,” Cliff mused. “So when I realized I couldn’t go out in daylight anymore, I didn’t think I’d miss it.” He continued to drink in the bright light. “But I do. I really do.”
“Not anymore,” Aidan vowed.
Minutes passed.
“Listen,” Cliff began, “there’s something I need you to do.”
“Name it.”
“I wouldn’t ask,” he added, his reluctance evident. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have to.” His face turned pensive. “But Bastien can’t teleport and—”
“What would you have me do?” Aidan interrupted.
Cliff drew a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket and held it out. “I need you to go to this address.”
Aidan took the paper with his free hand. Flipping it open, he read the address.
Understanding dawned.
He nodded. “Consider it done.”
“You know what I’m asking?” Cliff pressed.
“Yes.”
“I’d ask Richart, but I don’t really know him well. And Seth…”
“You’d rather Seth not know, if he doesn’t already.”
“Yes.”
“I understand.” Aidan tucked the paper into his back pocket. “Shall I go tonight?”
“No. It doesn’t have to be tonight. I don’t want you to cut your date short. Just… soon.”
Aidan smiled but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You don’t have to bring me out in the sun again.”
“I didn’t have to bring you out into the sun today. I did it because I wanted to,” Aidan told him. “And I’ll do it again tomorrow for the same reason. And every day after that as long as you continue to fight.”
“You’re a good man, Aidan.”
“So are you, Cliff. Nothing that happens in the future will ever negate that.”
“You don’t know how much I want that to be true,” Cliff said, his face somber.