Enraptured (11 page)

“Probably some mountain lions too.” Paige
continued to stare at the trees, longing slid through her but his
words kept her riveted to the porch. “Just remember freedom almost
always comes with a price.”

With a sigh, her shoulders slumped. She
turned around and walked back into the cabin. Standing in the
doorway, staring at the small home, she belatedly realized there
was only one bedroom in this place. The possibility of being bear
bait didn’t seem all that appalling any more.

Ian tossed another log onto the fire as the sun set
behind the mountains. He had no idea what Brian and Stefan had done
here, or why Brian would ever come back, but he’d only been here
for two days and he was about to go insane. He’d never considered
himself a technology junky; he’d often spent days on end in the
wilderness at home. Sleeping in a tent, fishing, hunting animals
with his bare hands, swimming in the lake, and lounging beneath the
trees had been the way he’d spent a good chunk of his childhood and
teens.

He’d also had his siblings to keep him
company then. He hadn’t had to keep an eye on a reluctant companion
who hadn’t spoken to him since she’d stormed back into the cabin.
He’d never realized how lonely and bored someone could be in the
presence of someone else, he did now.

He’d even enjoy listening to his twin
sisters, Abby and Vicky, prattle on about hair and boys right now
over this endless nothing. He glanced at Paige again, but she was
stalwartly staring at the flames with her chin on her hand. Her
legs were curled up on the couch beside her. The bowl of soup from
her dinner sat beside her on the table, a book from the shelf
behind the bar was open on her lap, but she wasn’t looking at it.
It didn’t help that he’d had no sexual release in the past couple
of days, or that he could see the pulse of blood in her neck, and
smell her apple scent. He was trapped in this cabin with a woman
who hated him, and all he craved was to pass the time lying between
her thighs. The days would fly by then, he knew.

Normally going this long without sex would
have him ready to tear his skin off, and on the prowl, but the
urges weren’t as bad as they usually were, yet.
You will get
through it when it gets bad; you’re a grown man, you can control
yourself,
he told himself for the hundredth time that day.

Unwilling to dwell on it anymore, Ian rose
to his feet, stretched his back, and walked over to the bar. The
single lantern in the room sat on the corner of the bar. Stepping
behind it, he searched the contents before pulling out a bottle of
whiskey and one of tequila. “Drink?” he inquired and tilted the
bottles invitingly. Her turquoise eyes darted to him. She shook her
head before focusing on the fire again. “It’s only going to be the
two of us up here for at least a few more days. We can pretend to
be civil with each other, and hopefully pass the time faster.”

“Are hostages supposed to be civilized?”

He pulled a tumbler from behind the bar and
sat it on top. Normally he preferred whiskey, but this was a
tequila kind of night. He poured himself a quarter of a glass,
glanced up at her and then filled the tumbler. He swirled the clear
liquid in the glass before downing it one gulp.

Lowering the drink, he wasn’t surprised to
see her attention finally on him. Her mouth pursed, but she had an
interested glint in her eyes as she watched him pour another. “A
drunken vampire, what a delight.”

“Don’t worry, it would take more than both
of these bottles to get me drunk,” he assured her.

She turned to stare at the crackling fire
again. The flames danced and played over her skin and lit her
vibrant eyes. “There’s some rum back here if that’s more to your
taste. No Schnapps though.”

A ripple of annoyance slid down her back.
“What, because I’m a woman I’d prefer Schnapps?”

Ian grinned as he finally got more than a
bored response from her. “No, because you’re so sweet I’d assumed
you’d prefer Schnapps.”

No matter how freaking adorable he looked
with that smile and dimple in his cheek, she didn’t appreciate his
teasing. “Jackass,” she muttered.

“There’s some of that sweetness now.”

She gave him the finger. “I don’t drink
Schnapps.”

“Rum then? Bourbon? Perhaps some Scotch or
Gin?”

She frowned as he downed his second glass of
tequila. “That really won’t make you drunk?” she asked
doubtfully.

“Fast metabolism,” he replied. “There are
many things that would have a negative result on a human, but not
on me.”

“Including screwing anything with a
pulse?”

He released a snort of laughter, but he
could feel his anger rising. “Ouch,” he tried to keep his tone
light and casual as he slapped his hands over his heart. Despite
his airy demeanor, he resented she knew anything about his history,
and she seemed determined to remind him of it every chance she got.
“I don’t get diseases either.”

“Fortunately, for all of those women.”

Ian could feel his patience fraying. “Would
you like a drink or not?” he asked crisply.

She bit her bottom lip before replying,
“Scotch.”

“That’s not what I would have pegged for
you.”

“And what would you have pegged for me? Oh
that’s right, Schnapps.”

He studied her for a minute. “Now I’m
thinking more like a lemon drop.”

She glowered at him. “I’m not sour.”

“Oh no, you’re as sweet as a gumdrop.”

“You’d be sour too if you were a
prisoner.”

Ian’s hand tightened around the glass so
forcefully it shattered within his grasp making her jump in her
seat. Her gaze flew to the blood dripping from his hand before
shooting up to his face. He didn’t feel the bite of the glass in
his flesh as he focused on her.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he grated. “You’re
not behind bars, you’ve only lost a bit of your freedom for a very
short time, and as soon as everything is sorted out, you
will
be set free.”

He grabbed a towel from behind the bar and
pulled out the pieces of glass embedded in his palm. Placing them
on the bar, he hastily wiped his blood away and wrapped the towel
around his hand. He could feel the stretching of his flesh and a
tingling in the tissue knitting back together as the gashes
repaired themselves. Picking up the trashcan, he tossed the pieces
of glass into it. When he was done, he grabbed two new glasses,
poured each of them a drink and walked over to hand hers to
her.

Paige glanced at the towel wrapped around
his hand. Specks of blood marred it, but she couldn’t tell the
extent of the damage he’d done to himself. Maybe she should be
frightened by what had happened, this was the first time she’d seen
him show any sign of frustration or annoyance, and she was alone
with him, but for some reason she didn’t think he would hurt her.
It made absolutely no sense to her, she knew what he was. However,
she couldn’t shake the feeling. When he handed her the glass, he
was in complete control again.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he walked back
over to the bar. Pulling the bloody towel from his hand, he wiped
away the last of his blood and threw it in the trashcan. “Is your
hand ok?”

He held the cleaned and healed palm up for
her to see. “Fine.”

Her mouth fell open before she could stop
it. She’d known vampires healed fast, but holy cow that was
insane
! Trying to distract herself from the disconcerting
healing properties of the living dead, she decided on a change of
topic. “For all you know, a gumdrop could be sour. It’s not like
human food is your thing.”

Ian grinned as he leaned on the bar,
relieved to see she’d regained her antagonistic demeanor after the
shock of seeing his hand. “I may have been born a vampire, but I
have tried a gumdrop before in my time.”

“Really? Why?”

“Why not? Just as I suppose you’re curious
about some vampire things, I was also curious about human things.
I’ve tried most human foods and often ate at college in order to
keep up appearances.”

She’d never really considered that he would
have to do human things in order to fit in, but he’d successfully
pulled off the charade his whole life. “What did you think of
it?”

“Not bad. Not something that satisfies me,
or appeals to me more than blood does, but I did enjoy fudge.”

“Fudge?” she asked in disbelief.

“Preferably peanut butter.”

She laughed as she shook her head and stared
into the liquid in her glass. “You’re so strange.”

“So I’ve been told, mostly by my
siblings.”

“I don’t have any siblings.”

“What of your parents?”

“Dead.” Not entirely a lie, but she wasn’t
about to get into her screwed up family history with him. She
swallowed the rest of her Scotch, made a face, and handed the glass
out to him. “Another please.”

He took the glass from her. “I’m sorry to
hear that. Do you mind if I asked what happened?”

Her eyes darkened. “My mom died four years
ago.”

“And your father?”

Paige turned to look at the flames leaping
in the fireplace as memories danced through her mind. She didn’t
shy away from them, they’d haunted her every day of the last four
years; there was nowhere for her to hide from them. No, she met
them head on and let them fuel her in every thing she did. They
drove her through every action of her life. Taking a deep breath,
she turned toward Ian.

“I’m not sure when he died.” Again, not
entirely a lie, but it was all she was going to say on the
matter.

Ian paused in the act of refilling her drink
and lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes unwaveringly held his,
but the haunted look in her gaze made him realize there was more to
that statement. “Did you know him well?”

“No, but far more than I would have liked.”
A muscle twitched in her cheek. Her full lips pressed so firmly
together they became a thin line. Ian walked over and handed her
the glass. She clasped it between both of her hands and downed more
than half of it in one swallow. “It’s been months since I drank,”
she murmured.

“It doesn’t hurt to relax every once in a
while.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t
know the meaning of the word.”

“No, you don’t seem to.”

“All you do is relax. You were always having
fun at the bar.”

Ian stared at her, tempted to push her
further about her father, but a smile was actually playing at the
corners of her mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to upset her again,
something the subject of her father obviously did. “I have my
moments of seriousness,” he assured her.

“I doubt that.”

“We all have our crosses to bear.”

“And what is yours?”

“That’s a boring story dear Paige.” She
thrust out her empty glass again. “I’m going to assume you
do
get drunk, probably rather easily judging by the size of
you.”

“I can handle myself,” she assured him and
waved the glass at him.

“I’m not holding your hair back if you
puke,” he told her when he took the glass again.

She threw her shoulders back and thrust out
her chin. “I, sir, do not puke.”

He chuckled as he topped off her drink and
handed it back to her. Color flushed her cheeks, her eyes were
already taking on a glassy shine that the firelight illuminated.
“I’m going to hold you to that in a couple of hours.”

She tapped her finger against the glass
while she watched him. “Are you playing with me? Do you plan to
kill me?”

“You’d be dead if I planned to kill
you.”

“Maybe this is a game to you.”

“The only games I play are recreational. I’m
not one for mind games or playing with people. In fact, I try very
hard not to hurt people.”

She tilted her head as she stared at him.
“How do you feed without hurting them?”

He ran a hand through his hair before
settling on the other end of the couch. “Do you really want the
answer to that?”

“I want the answer to anything you’re
willing to tell me. It would definitely help to put me at ease, and
make you a little more trustworthy.”

He stared at the fire before looking at her
again. He didn’t know what to make of this woman who was as prickly
as a cactus most of the time, yet he sensed something warmer and
far more vulnerable beneath her surface. He felt the irresistible
urge to touch her in order to help put her at ease. His touch would
probably be the last thing she’d welcome or that would help her to
relax. He’d do anything to make her like him a little more, trust
him just the tiniest bit, but if he told her how he fed, the answer
would irritate her, and may push her further away.

He’d never been one to beat around the bush
or lie; he wasn’t about to start now. She’d asked, and he would
give her what she wanted. “I feed from the women who go home with
me.”

The flare of her nostrils was the only
reaction she exhibited to his words. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“And they don’t know about it?”

“No.”

“Don’t you feel bad doing that without their
knowledge?”

“No. You may think it’s wrong, but I do it
to survive. I never take enough to impair them; they don’t know
what’s really happening, and they leave in the morning more
satisfied than they’ve ever been.”

Paige didn’t know how to respond to that. It
repulsed her to think of someone doing that to another human being.
However, when he’d said they left the next day more satisfied than
they’d ever been the next day, a jolt had gone through her. She
felt a tightening in her belly, excitement fluttered through her at
the image his words conjured within her. She glanced accusingly at
her drink, but she knew the yearning she felt had nothing to do
with the alcohol and everything to do with the man himself.

Her heart rate increased, her palms felt
sweaty and despite her every intention not to, she found herself
looking at his full mouth. She could well imagine how satisfied
those women had been. A shiver ran through her; her hand began to
sweat on the glass. The liquid was warm enough without her added
body heat, but she didn’t think she’d ever cool down again.