Immortal Healer (10 page)

“So, how much am I supposed to spend?”

“Well, have you seen that show where they humiliate the fashionably challenged by showing video clips of them walking around looking like a lunatic before giving them some fashion rules and a credit card and then setting them loose in Manhattan just to sneak up on them with a video camera to tell them just how fashionably challenged they still are?” She was talking excitedly, and so expressively, Abigail was having a hard time not laughing.

“Yeah.” She was starting to worry.

“I love that show. Well it’s going to go something like that, minus the cameras, humiliation, and rules. And since it’s plenty overcast today, we have all the time in the world before Brit and I will get uncomfortable. We can take our time.” And there was her million dollar smile again.

Shit. “Great.” She tried not to sound like she was muttering.

* * * *

Within four exhausting hours, she had a new wardrobe, as did Brit, and she was exhausted and ready for a nap.

“Where did you get that bruise?” Ember caught sight of it on the back of her arm as Abigail stepped from a fitting room in a sleeveless, knee-length gray dress with thin gold belt.

She craned her neck around, twisting in circles like a dog chasing its tail in front of the mirror to see it. Ember was right, it was large. Baseball to the back of the arm big, and frankly, she had no idea where she’d gotten it. She just shrugged and tried to blow it off. A cardigan did the trick, and she liked the sterling gray fitted dress with her new light brown three-quarter length sleeve cardi so much, she kept it on.

She took a minute to braid her thick blonde hair back in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder, and as she finished twisting the hair band she’d stashed in her pocket to secure it in place, Brit emerged from her fitting room. “What the fuck, Em! Seriously … floral? Do I look like a floral sorta gal to you?”

“Well, I think it looks good. Perfect for a honeymoon.”

“Perfect for a honeymoon would be naked, and that’s exactly how Angus will likely prefer me.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but you can’t be naked on the plane. Now, shut up, and buy it.”

Abigail caught herself smiling again. There really must be something wrong with her. Ember walked away as her phone rang, and Brit started to walk back into her room. But she paused mid-stride without turning back immediately, and when she did, her face was serious—not that it wasn’t always.

“You know, Quentin’s one of the most honorable men I know. They all are.” And then taking a deep breath as Abigail’s eyes shifted to the ground, she continued. “I’m sure that’s difficult for you to see … or understand. He’ll never hurt you. He couldn’t. None of them could. I just have a special place in my heart for Quentin. He may seem … calm and cool, and he is, but he’s extremely protective. When I transitioned, Angus wasn’t happy, and Quentin was the one who put him in his place. I know you haven’t met Angus yet; he’s been out of town visiting some clans in the region with another councilman, Aaron, but for any man to put Angus in his place … well I’m not sure many could.” And then she finished with a rather uncomfortable look on her face and a quick shrug of her shoulders. “I just thought you should know.” And then she was gone back into her fitting room.

As Abigail choked on the sticker shock for the tenth time today as she used Quentin’s credit card to buy the dress and cardigan she now wore, Ember approached her with Brit by her side, still grumbling about the floral blouse but holding it waded in her hand nevertheless. “Quentin wants us to drop you off at Mass General Hospital. They’re finishing up soon, and he said you two were going somewhere.”

“Oh.” Again, she wasn’t saying much. In truth, her heart fluttered about like a butterfly in her chest at the thought of seeing him.

And once they were back on the road, she let that comfort steer her mouth for a while. “How old is Quentin?”

“Four hundred or so odd years.”

“And he kills humans too?” It was hard for her to grasp the man she knew taking life.

“If you could call them that. The people they kill are a menace to humans. They’re the ones Brit can’t close a case on and who will continue to hurt, murder, and destroy lives. Don’t feel bad for those ‘humans.’ I know that’s hard to grasp, but these are murderers, rapists, child molesters, monsters.” Ember was watching her carefully from her place in the front seat.

“It’s just hard to imagine. I mean, I’ve seen how your kind kill, and it’s hard to imagine him … doing that.” It wasn’t really that hard at all. She still had fanged images of him floating around her head after her dreams of the night before. But those images had turned rather erotic at this point, and she had to admit she was somewhat interested in seeing him with fangs—very interested in fact.

“He’s just as ferocious a killer as any one of them are.”

“And there’s really nothing that can kill you?”

“Oh there’s plenty that can kill us. Sever our brainstem, destroy our heart, inject live blood into our circulatory system.” Abigail cocked her head to the side in response to this last statement, and Ember took the cue to elaborate. “Causes an immune response with the toxin that keeps us alive. The toxin sees living blood injected directly into our bloodstream as a threat and ends up destroying us as a result. We’re meant to drink and digest blood, not have it injected into our veins. Trust me, it’s not pleasant. I almost died from being injected with living blood by the dear Mason himself, and it was Quentin who saved me from that near death experience.”

“And you both don’t actually kill humans? How is that?”

“We choose to take second blood from our husbands. We’re not as strong as a result, but it’s never bothered me.”

“Why? I mean, do they not let you, or…”

“They’re plenty old-fashioned enough to think we ought to abide by their every wish, but
we’re
not nearly so old-fashioned, and we don’t do anything we don’t fully want to do.” She was smirking. “We each made that choice on our own for personal reasons. I simply have no interest in killing, and I don’t think I could do it if I tried. Brit struggles with the morality of being a homicide detective but then taking life, however monstrous that life might be. And there are … other benefits as well…”

“Like?”

“Well it’s hard to explain to a mortal, but it’s quite a sensuous, erotic thing for us. Sorry… Too much information?”

She shook her head. Actually everything the woman said shocked the hell out of her, but she was intrigued. “So, does he like … want to kill me … or, I mean, eat me?”

Ember watched Abigail with a curious look on her face. Abigail could tell she was trying to decide how to answer that question. “Well, sure. But then, so do we. Doesn’t mean we ever would. But take you and Quentin. He’s programmed to love blood, and blood from someone you’re attracted to, well that’s even—”

“Em, fuck!” Brit appeared to like the F-word as much as Abigail.

“I mean … not that you two are… That’s not what I … sorry. I just mean … sorry.” She was shaking her head, and Abigail could feel the heat burning her cheeks. She resorted to staring out the window for the remainder of the ride. Her heart was racing, and she knew there was nothing she could do to hide it from them.

Brit’s eyes occasionally caught on her in the rearview mirror, and Ember kept turning to look at her. She couldn’t seem to quiet the pounding in her chest or shake what Ember’s words implied. And when Ember turned to her for the last time as they neared the hospital, she spoke. “You know, it’s okay to like him. You’re allowed to want a man. Don’t let your past dictate where your future is going. You deserve better than that.”

“Well, he’s not … I mean … nothing.” Sharing any part of what Quentin had told her in private was not going to happen, so there was really very little she could say.

“I know all about Quentin.” Her eyes held Abigail’s quite fiercely. “And I don’t think the past twenty years of
his
life should dictate
his
future either.” And then they pulled up in front, and Abigail got out, thanking them over her shoulder as she walked toward the building—toward him.

Chapter 10

The moment she walked through the entryway and into the lobby where he was talking to three of the men he’d been meeting with, his heart quickened. The three heard it of course and followed his eyes to her before returning to him with curious expressions. She hadn’t seen him yet, and his eyes followed her around the expansive room. He tried to continue speaking, but he was struggling to concentrate, and when she finally saw him and met his eyes, she paused for half a second before walking right into a large potted plant.

The expression on her face was priceless. Her cheeks burned crimson red, she started shaking her head and couldn’t look at him again. But he was looking at her, and he watched every step she took to close the space between them. He continued to answer questions of the men, but it was a struggle, and he had to ask them to repeat themselves twice by the time she reached him.

She stepped to his side, still shaking her head slightly and still with pink cheeks. He reached for her hand, and she clasped both of hers around his. She was nervous, and he listened to her heart pound.

“Well, Quentin, I had no idea you had a girlfriend…” One of the doctors.

“No, we’re not…” Then why the hell was he holding her hand? “Abigail, these gentlemen are my research colleagues.” He introduced them each quickly, ready to be done with it, so he could be with her. The moment they said their good-byes, he pulled her toward the exit. It was evening, and it would be dusk in a couple of hours. The day had been overcast but without rain, and he intended to spend the remainder of the night with her.

As they settled into his car, she looked at him. “Ember said we were going somewhere?” He turned to her as well but was caught by the sight of her legs. She looked beautiful in her dress, and the sight of her knees left him wanting to touch her so badly his groin tightened. He found her eyes, trying to mask the need from his own expression.

“Hatch Shell for movie night. Sound okay?” She blushed and nodded as he pulled from the parking space. He wanted to reach for her hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he commented, “You look nice. I’m glad you found something you liked.”

“I did, thank you. Oh, that’s right. I nearly forgot.” She started fishing his credit card out of her purse.

“It’s an extra. Just keep it.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You can actually. All you have to do is slip it in your wallet and forget it’s there until you need it. Simple.” He smirked at her, and there it was. The scent he loved so very much and that left him ready to pull the car over and slip his fingers right up under her enticing skirt to find the source of her arousal. Instead he acted the gentleman his thoughts didn’t imply, and he returned his eyes to the road.

He knew this would be a difficult venture from the start. She was far too incredible to look at to think he’d not have a reaction. But there was more to it, and what he knew would be hard was turning downright impossible. He wanted her … desperately. Because she was beautiful? Sure, that was easy, but there was more to it, and that was where his resolve was faltering the most. He cared.

Quentin was good at caring for his friends and people he knew well but that never included a romantic relationship. Not ever. There was far too much closeness and intimacy to romantic relationships, and it had simply been a closeness he had never been capable of. And while what he and Abby did together in the real world could hardly be considered romantic, it was what they thought about doing together that gave it away. Her scent made it clear, just as much as the rampant thoughts that circled through his mind did.

But that was physical need. It was the emotion, the closeness that left him feeling out of his depth that confused him the most. Wanting to fuck her made sense; wanting to know her as deeply as he knew himself did not.

He knew that morning when he’d left his residence he wanted to take her out that night; it was why he’d scheduled lab time early in the day, rather than evening. Spending time out in the day was not something he was used to, and it did not go unnoticed by his research colleagues either. He was practically pretending to be human for her.

Parking at the Hatch, he grabbed the blankets he’d tossed in the trunk, and they found a place on the expansive lawn facing the shell. It was early yet and not dusk, but it would be soon. He was saved from the discomfort of being outside thanks to dark clouds that had threatened rain all day but failed to deliver.

He sat by her side, his shoulder slightly behind hers, and his palm planted on the ground just behind her bottom. It was entirely too intimate for mere acquaintances, mere friends even, but he’d stopped pretending there wasn’t more to them, and given her comfort at the touch of the front of his shoulder on the back of hers, he guessed she had as well. It had been just under a month since he’d met her in county lock-up, and he couldn’t imagine not having this in his life already. He knew that meant he was in trouble, but his heart simply didn’t give a shit. It was all entirely too gratifying.

He leaned to her ear, letting his lips touch the rim. “Are you hungry or thirsty?

“Thirsty, but I can…”

“I’ll go. Stay. What would you like?”

“Coke.” More sugar, of course.

He smiled and left her on the blanket to find one of the vendors. When he returned, he saw her looking up at a young man who was crouched down speaking to her. He was hit with a jealousy he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced that left him gasping for a moment until he heard her heart pounding. She was nervous. He walked quickly toward them, pausing for a moment as she responded to something the man said.

“I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend, and I’m really not interested.” He smirked as he closed the space between them. When she met his eyes as the man stood upright, she blushed. She knew damn well he’d heard her comment, and as he reluctantly pulled his gaze from hers to the man who still stood by, his smirk turned to a cool calm stare as his fangs protracted in his mouth. It was protective, it was possessive, it was likely unwarranted, but it was instinct.