A Vampire's Honor (25 page)

“E
nough of this nonsense!” Tomas said sternly, taking the suitcase out of my hand as I waited for the elevator door to open.

Gabriel had been gone for almost two weeks, and I was slowly going out of my mind. Once Anasztaizia had recovered sufficiently from her vomiting episode, Aleksei had taken her home. She wanted to be in her own bed with her man. Sentiments Gabriel readily agreed with.

He made love to me with a passion that made me wonder which of us he was trying to reassure. Either way I didn't care. After cresting yet another multiple orgasmic wave, I fell asleep or passed out. In any case, I truly believe it was an act of self-preservation, my body warning me it was possible to have too much of a good thing. When I opened my eyes again, it was past midnight. There was a spray of golden yellow freesias on the pillow next to me, and a note written in Gabriel's hand saying he would return soon, he loved me, and not to worry.

Like that was really going to work.

Now, a fortnight later, and still no word from him, I had reached the point where I believed my only option was to leave. My brain had run itself ragged imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios, leaving me to conclude that, as a vampire girlfriend, I sucked. No pun intended. My sixth sense had warned me that Kartel was bad news, and I'd allowed myself to be caught alone with him. Talk about stupid! I swear at times I'm so dumb I could wear myself out trying to stand in the corner of a round room.

And now Gabriel had taken off, leaving me with nothing more than an ambiguously worded note. To my way of thinking,
return soon
is what you say when you've run out to get coffee and muffins. And it doesn't take two weeks to do that. Not even if you've gone to Colombia to handpick the fucking beans yourself.

I spent the morning rearranging my half of the closet, but when I got to the drawers containing my underwear, I lost it. For a Promise, I had some serious issues. After that, it was simply a matter of pulling down a suitcase and throwing some clothes in it. Thankfully I had a nice apartment where I could go feel sorry for myself. I just hadn't counted on Tomas stopping me.

Now I watched as he took the suitcase from my hand and steered me none too gently in the direction of the kitchen. The look on his face was both stern and compassionate.

“He'll be heartsick if he does nae find ye here on his return,” he admonished, rolling his
r
's so impressively, I forgot he wasn't a Scot by birth.

“And when might that be?” I asked, miserably taking a seat at the kitchen table and wondering if Gabriel had any idea how heartsick I was.

“When he's done, of course. It would nae do any good to return before then.” Pulling his dark brows together, he added, “You canna leave your demons behind so easily, lass.” I nearly jumped, wondering if he was referring to demons in general or my own personal ambassador to the Dark Realm. “Ye canna run from what has happened to ye, Rowan. Ye must deal with it head-on. Don't let that bastard Kartel define who you are.”

“So you're saying I should stay here and wait for Gabriel to return.”

“Aye, that's what I'm sayin'.”

“No matter how long it takes?”

“Aye.”

I stared at him. “You know where he is, don't you?”

“Aye.”

“But you're not going to tell me, are you?” The laugh that erupted from him was startling. I couldn't ever remember hearing Tomas laugh before. He turned his back and began getting out some cups and saucers. “You're not making tea, are you?”

I wasn't sure if the Scots were as addicted to tea as the English. After watching
Downton Abbey
I was well aware that any crisis could be averted over a cup of tea. Unfortunately, I already knew I hated the stuff. I was pretty sure what I'd been offered in the Dark Realm was on a par with anything Carson served Lady Grantham.

“No tea,” Tomas assured me. “How about some of my special coffee . . . with a wee kick?” Tomas's “special” coffee didn't need anything added to it, but who was I to turn down a wee kick?

“I let him down, didn't I? I mean with the whole Kartel thing. I should never have let him take my blood.”

“And just how were you going to stop him?” Tomas said, echoing my inner bitch.

I shrugged. “I don't know, but I just feel I should have done
something.
”

“You did,” the sentinel said quietly. “You gave only what was demanded of you. No more, no less.”

Like all things Tomas turned his hand to, the coffee was very good. And it had more than a wee kick. We both sat and sipped in silence. Each lost in our own thoughts as a contemplative silence enveloped us.

“Can I tell ye something, lass?” Tomas asked, breaking the quiet between us.

“Of course.”

He stared at me, his expression becoming serious. “Gabriel loves you something fierce, and there's nothing he would nae do, no risk he would nae take, for such a bonnie lass as you. He just canna always give you the whys of what he does, no matter how much he may want to. When he leaves you, as he has now, it's because he has no choice. You have no idea the depth of his rage, or the breadth of his impotence at feeling so helpless.” He paused for a moment. “You kept him from you for a long time. Do not expect him to share everything he feels, not just yet. He wants to, but he still fears you might push him away.”

Me push him away? I wanted to ask Tomas why he would think I'd do such a thing, but instead I said, “I'm not that naïve, Tomas. I mean, no one ever tells everything, do they?”

“Don't they?” He sounded surprised at my admission, and my cheeks flushed unexpectedly. I opened my mouth to explain, but the sentinel held up a hand. “Nay, lass, 'tis not my place to judge. I trust your reasons for keeping silent are guided by the love you bear for Gabriel, and that is reason enough for me.”

I wanted to throw my arms around him and hug him, but as if sensing I might give in to the urge, Tomas picked up our empty coffee mugs and got to his feet, giving the urge time to pass.

“Go visit your friend,” he suggested as he rinsed our cups at the sink. “She and the bairn have been home for a few days. I daresay she'd welcome a visit.”

“You think I should?” The truth was, I was dying to see Laycee and Baby Jenna, but not knowing much about new mothers with new babies, I didn't want to intrude or upset anyone's schedule.

Tomas smiled at me—an occurrence so rare I almost fell off my chair. “Dinna fash yourself, lass. Gabriel will return soon enough, just nae tonight.”

Awww, fuck it! I didn't give him a hug, but I did kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Tomas, for everything.”

I left him blushing with embarrassment and making odd harrumphing noises to himself.

* * *

“Rowan, you can't do this to me!”

I wasn't used to being scolded by anyone, let alone Laycee, at least not when I was standing on what used to be my front porch in the middle of the afternoon before I'd even had a chance to come inside and put my purse down. I took a good long look at my best friend. She was wearing flip-flops, yoga pants, and a T-shirt that was decorated with a weird stain on the left shoulder. Her hair was pulled up in an untidy knot on top of her head and secured with a large clip. She wore no makeup, not even lip gloss, and looked like she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since coming home from the hospital.

“What are you talking about?” What had I done?

The sudden eruption of tears was frightening. I pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back and making what I hoped were soothing, shushing sounds until the crying jag had run its course and turned into wet-sounding snuffles. It also gave me time to identify the stain on her T-shirt as spit-up baby formula.

“Goddamn hormones!” Laycee grumbled, pulling out of my arms and looking a little embarrassed. “I swear to God I'm never getting pregnant again.”

Laycee turned around and stomped off down the hall, headed for the kitchen. I followed, mystified by her reaction to seeing me, and with no idea what she was talking about. I hadn't seen her since that night in the hospital . . . so what had I done? I set my purse down on the kitchen table as Laycee unrolled a length of tissue from a roll of toilet paper and used it to blow her nose. “The way I'm crying, this is more economical,” she explained, waving the roll at me before putting it on the counter.

“Where's Jenna?” I asked, looking around and thinking it was funny how all the dramas in my life seem to center around this one particular room.

“Taking a nap—thank you, Jesus.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Laycee didn't seem to be in any hurry to explain her doorstep explosion, but maybe if I offered to do something simple, like make coffee, she'd settle down and tell me.

A light shone in her eyes, and she grabbed my hand. “Yeah,” she said, dragging me toward the living room. “You can deal with this.”

“Wow, what did you do? Have another baby shower?”

I didn't know you were supposed to have an after-the-baby-gets-here shower as well.
I satisfied my inner bitch by letting her know I was equally mystified.

There was an odd, maniacal gleam in Laycee's china-doll blue eyes, and I told myself she wasn't the only one who would be glad when her hormones stopped fluctuating.

I glanced around the living room, which now looked more like the overflow stockroom of a Babies-R-Us store. One corner was filled with stacked boxes of disposable diapers, while a chair was camouflaged by a multitude of receiving blankets. A half dozen crib sets lay on the floor still in their zippered cellophane bags, and I counted two car seats, one stroller, something called a diaper genie (I didn't want to ask), and two—no, make that three—plastic newborn baby baths. The sofa had become a display piece for clothing. All of it girly, all of it frilled, beribboned, and fit to be worn from newborn to size twelve months.

The only thing I didn't see was a crib or bassinet, but the five-foot-tall stuffed giraffe glaring woefully at me from between the fireplace and DVD cabinet more than made up for it.

“All this,” Laycee said with a game show hostess wave of her hand, “is you, Rowan Marie Harper.”

I stared at her, certain I had misheard. “What? No! You're kidding, right?” The look on her face said not just no, but hell no. “But . . . how?”

“
How?
Are you saying you didn't send any of this? Oh my God! Rowan, did someone hack your credit card?” She grabbed my hands as concern replaced her exasperation.

“No, of course not,” I gave the giraffe a look of my own. “I know I got you all this stuff, I recognize some of it, but I just don't remember getting you so much.”

“So you did send this?” Laycee asked, needing confirmation.

I nodded. “I must have.”

“You don't remember?”

I shrugged. “Oh, I remember all right . . . I guess I just got carried away.”

“You think?”

I certainly wasn't about to admit that alcohol might have played a part in my decision-making process, or that buying via the internet didn't really feel like shopping, or that it was during one of my not-so-good nights with Gabriel gone.

Laycee moved a pile of cute onesies from the arm of the sofa and sat down. “So you're saying this is all you, and none of it's from Eye Candy?”

I nodded. “Nope. Gabriel's been out of town for a couple of weeks.” I gave her an apologetic smile. “If you want, we can send it all back, or give it away?” I picked up a carton of baby wipes. “Know anyone who could use these?”

“You would do that? Give it all away?”

I shrugged. “Well, I don't think it can be returned once it's out of the original packaging, do you?”

Laycee gave me an oddly exasperated look. “I can contact the hospital. They have a program for mothers who need help.”

“That's settled then. Keep anything you want and give the rest to the hospital.”

“Ro . . .” A troubled frown marred her brow. “How much did you spend on all this?”

“Umm, I'm not sure. Not exactly.”

It was true. I had no idea how much I'd splurged on my six-hour spending spree, hitting every conceivable website I could think of that dealt with babies. I do know that by the time I was done, I still hadn't maxed out my credit card.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Laycee gave me a long, hard look. “You lied to me.”

“I did not—I've never lied to you!” I protested hotly.

“Yeah, you did. You said that Eye Candy's money wouldn't change you.” She looked pointedly around the room. “I hate to break it to you, girlfriend, but you lied.”

“Yeah, well having a credit card with a limit that's six figures is kind of surreal.” Her mouth dropped open, and I decided not to tell her about the Palladium card Gabriel had originally wanted to give me. At least I'd had the good sense to refuse that one.

“Just promise me the next time you get the urge to go on a spending spree, you'll call me first.”

“Why? So you can talk me out of it?”

“Hell no—so I can tell you what I need!”

We both laughed, but I did give her my word not to be so financially reckless in the future.