Caleb (8 page)

“I’m
glad to hear it.”

“I
consider myself a very open-minded person.” Nuts, if anyone asked her family,
but he didn’t need to know that.

His
fingers massaged the aching muscles, relaxing them, soothing her body, her
fears. She placed her hand over his. “I can take whatever it is you have to
say.”

“You
really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”

She
bet if she could see him, he’d be staring at her with his head cocked to the
side the way her brothers did whenever she’d confounded them with her brand of
logic. “Just because I don’t believe ignorance is bliss is no reason to get
insulting.”

“I’m
not being insulting.”

“No,
you’re stalling.”

“Maybe.”

“Well,
cut it out. It’s annoying and as this is my dream, I have a right not to be
annoyed.”

His
fingers stilled. “You think this is a dream?”

“It’s
too bizarre to be anything other than a figment of my subconscious.”

He
resumed his stroking. “I can see you viewing it that way.”

She
stiffened. “Was that another insult?”

“You
object to insults in your dreams, too?”

Was
that a hint of a grin coloring the inflection in his deep drawl? “Absolutely.”

“Then
no, more of a statement of the obvious. It’s logical you’d decide this is a
dream.”

“Thank
you.” Dream Caleb was much more accepting of the real her than most men of her
acquaintance. Which was only fitting. Fiction should be stranger than truth.
She placed her hand over his where it rested on her hip. “So what are you, and
why am I afraid?”

The
air between them thickened with tension.

“It’s
okay, Caleb. I can take it. Just tell me.” The subconscious was very good at
dealing with a lot of things the conscious shied away from. He cursed and then
stilled. Tension built right along with her expectation. She felt his glare,
heavier than the dark, scarier than the unknown. She clenched her fingers over
his, but it didn’t help with the truth he spit out on a hoarse growl.

“I’m
a goddamn vampire and in a little while, you will be, too.”

The
shocking claim echoed around inside her head, veracity bleeding through each
syllable, making everything she knew to be fact just jumbled bits of scattered
reality.
Vampire?
Impossible to believe, horrifying to absorb, yet
somehow, snapping into that empty place in her memory with irrefutable
rightness.
Oh God. Oh God.

“Is
that answer enough for you?” he bit off.

She
released his hand, pressed back into the bed, and inched to the far edge.
“Absolutely.”

SO
maybe she wasn’t as open-minded as she’d thought she
was, because she wasn’t taking Caleb’s announcement of vampirism with the same
equanimity with which she would have taken a statement of homosexuality. And
considering the hots she had for his body, a declaration that he was gay would
have kicked up quite a ruckus with her hormones. “Turn on the light.”

“You
don’t need light.”

Like
hell she didn’t. “Turn on the light.”

She
wanted to see his face when she asked her questions.

His
hand covered her eyes a split second before there was a click and then light
flared. The burn to her eyes was incredible, even shielded. Tears poured down
her cheeks. She pushed at his hand, wanting to see his face. Was he the same,
or some monster caricature of himself? What in hell did a vampire look like
anyway? What did she look like? Why did she even care if this was a dream?

His
hand didn’t budge and even though she didn’t voice her question, he answered.
“You’re the same as always.”

“I’ll
believe that when I see it.” If she could see it. Weren’t vampires supposed to
be unable to produce a reflected image?

“You
can see your reflection.”

“Not
if you don’t take your hand off my eyes.”

“Your
eyes are still too sensitive for any light. You’re going through the change.”

She
had an awful suspicion that the last phrase didn’t mean for him what it meant
for her. “I assume you’re not talking menopause here.”

“No.”

Her breath
came faster, harder. Allie quit trying to move his hand off her face. Breaks
she didn’t want him to hear peppered her order. “I think . . . you owe me a bit
. . . more elaboration.”

His
hand twitched, and she froze. Any more light than the shadow she saw and she’d
go out of her mind from the agony. In a lot of ways, this dream really sucked.
She much preferred the ones where they were both naked and the only pain she
experienced was from screaming herself hoarse as a result of multiple orgasms.

“Your
ability to adjust to light will kick in when the change is over.”

“Your
optimistic side is showing again.” She waved her hand in the air. “Turn off the
light.”

To
his credit, Caleb didn’t say “I told you so.” He just flipped the switch and
let the darkness roll over her in a soothing balm.

“How
am I supposed to get around if I can’t see in the dark and can’t bear the
light?”

“The
halfway stage is not permanent.”

Halfway,
did that mean this could be reversed? “Can I go back?”

“The
only out is death.”

Great.
So much for the easy way. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”
The air around them filled with a relentless energy that felt like the edge of
steel pressing into her mind. “I won’t let you die.”

She
pushed back against that invisible force, gaining nothing but a return of the
knifing pain in her head. “I might not give you a choice.”

His
hand returned to her throat, wrapping around it, the fingers pressing on her
pulse point. The steel in his voice threaded his drawl. “You don’t get to
decide.”

That
was too much. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m
merely telling you how it’s going to be.”

With
his hand on her throat, he was telling her he wouldn’t let her die? Oh yeah,
that made sense. She touched her fingertips to the back of the hand pinning
her. “I hope you realize the hypocrisy in your position.”

His
thumb stroked along her neck. “I’m no threat to you.”

A
memory teased her consciousness. One of his eyes swirling with lights, a
horrible wound, his fangs, the vicious bite. So vivid, yet somehow surreal,
floating behind a veil she couldn’t part. Fact or fiction or a blend of both?
The memories danced through a distorted sense of time, her subconscious
composing images to fit the reality it needed to create, rearranging the mental
lies to make them seem real. A bit too real. She inched a little farther away,
gaining a centimeter until that big chest came down over hers, pinning her.
“You could have fooled me,” she gasped.

“I
wouldn’t have converted you if I’d had a choice.”

Images
of male faces set in hard lines along with a memory of steely resolution in
hazel eyes crashed into her brain. She continued her creep across the mattress.
“That wasn’t my impression.”

Her
head was firmly stuck in the middle of the bed, but she’d managed to find the
edge with her foot.

“The blood
loss weakened me.”

Or
what? He would have succeeded in resisting, or something else? “You were trying
to die?”

“No.”
Something brushed over her forehead. She flinched, feeling foolish once she
realized it was his fingers pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Trying to
resist converting you,” he finished dryly.

The
memory of three men’s joint resolve overwhelming her opposition crept forward
past her conviction that this was a dream. The memory disappeared as quickly as
it came, leaving her fumbling with the remnants. “They forced you?”

It
seemed the very air absorbed his sudden stillness. “I’m not sure how much force
was involved.”

Well,
that was honest.

“Explain.”
She thought she understood, though. Because along with the pain and the fear,
she remembered other things. Words filled with agony, hope, determination.
Words that dragged her back from the darkness with the strength of the emotion
contained within them. Words that had saved her because of the will of iron
that had backed them. Caleb’s will.

His
shrug felt like an apology. “They knew as weakened as I was, they could
influence me, make me do what they wanted.”

“Which
was?” Good grief, this was like pulling teeth.

“To
take my mate.”

“Mate?
Who on Earth uses a word like that anymore?”

“Vampires.”

He
kept hammering that point, as if sheer repetition could make her believe it. He
had a lot to learn about dreams. The mind only absorbed what it wanted in
dreams, letting the rest drift around as unclaimed will-o’-the-wisps of
illusion. “Uh-huh. Well, you had a life before you became a vampire, and I’m
reasonably sure you remember it, so I think you can choose vocabulary to
reflect it.”

“You
don’t like the word ‘mate’?”

She
shook her head. “Way too caveman.”

“Fine,
they wanted me to take my woman.”

“My
woman.” Like that was a step up from mate. “Why?”

The
pause between her question and his answer was thick with emotion she couldn’t
define but felt she should. For her safety and her sanity, but, from one blink
to the next, the strength to do so evaded her grasp.

“To
keep me here.”

“In
this life?”

“Yes.”

“Why
didn’t you want to stay?”

“It
wasn’t so much I wanted to leave as much as I was determined to do the right
thing.”

“By
me?”

“Yes.”

It
was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her in or out of her
dreams. “Is that why you came around my shop every morning? Because you liked
me?”

“I
couldn’t resist you.”

She
was more the type of woman men had to get to know to appreciate than one who
overwhelmed them with lust. “Right.” She worked her other leg across the
mattress. His fingers stroked her pulse with soft persuasion.

“You’re
the prettiest thing I’ve ever set eyes on.”

“Thank
you.” She rubbed her forehead as the pressure beating behind her eyes increased
in a slow, building threat. Thinking was definitely hurting her brain. “So,
because you thought I was attractive, you thought it was okay to show up every
day at my bakery tempting me?”

“Pretty
much.”

The
weary note in his voice slammed her ego. Did he regret meeting her? “Well, no
one asked you to strut your stuff in my store.”

She
was right about that, Caleb knew. Not one person had been happy with his
fascination, least of all himself. But like a moth faced with the temptation of
light, he’d needed to see her, and because he had, the D’Nally wolves had
caught scent of his interest. And that had put her in danger. Because the
renegade Dane had acted on it, seeing it as the perfect route to revenge for
whatever the hell Jace had done to set the pack against them. The question was
whether Ian D’Nally had sanctioned the attack. Caleb didn’t particularly want
to escalate the tension between the Johnsons and D’Nallys to outright feud, but
a pack-sanctioned attack against his kin would do it. He caught Allie’s hip in
his hand as she inched toward the edge, his senses coming alive as the soft
fullness shaped to his grip. “Didn’t one tumble teach you that isn’t going to
work?”

“It
taught me that I need a different approach.”

He
shook his head, the smile sneaking up on his blind side as she continued undeterred.
She had to be the most determined, resilient person he’d ever met. He doubted
she even had a passing acquaintance with the word “quit.” “You need a
guardian.”

The
shove she gave his arm spoke volumes. “I can take care of myself.”

He
slid his hand over her shoulder. His night vision was excellent. Not as
versatile as day vision, though. It was more of a blend of intense black and
white with startlingly accurate shading. It had taken him a while to get used
to the lack of color, but after the first fifty years, he’d adjusted.
Especially since the satin texture of Allie’s skin glowed like the palest white
against the surrounding dark. Like moon glow, calling for a longer touch. A
lingering. He resisted the urge. She might think him a dream, but he was pretty
sure she’d object to even his dream self taking liberties.

He
settled for just making a bracelet of his fingers and sliding them down her
arm. He turned her palm up and stroked the indent on her wrist that his bite
had created. His fingertip slid along the groove that marked the change for
them all. The deep indent would soon be invisible, obliterated as her
conversion completed, but permanent nonetheless in the effect it would have on
them all. In the change it would bring.