Opposites attract, p.15
Opposites Attract, page 15
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he whispered softly as he retreated into the hallway.
Carefully, Carissa inched around the couch, closer to the front door. She had hoped for space but wasn’t sure what he put between them was enough. She loved him but feared the truth.
“You’re a vampire.” She’d meant to ask, but the words came out flat, unforgiving and blunt.
Aden opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again, but still nothing. Finally, he nodded.
Carissa sighed, her throat constricting even as she forced her next words past her lips, “And the bite on my wrist is from a werewolf.”
Again, he nodded.
“Are you going to say anything at all?” she accused, eyeing him.
Aden gave an audible gulp from across the room. The sadness in his gaze deepened. He took another step backwards and whispered, “I’m sorry.” He shot her one last mournful look, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the dark hallway before Carissa could say a word.
Mouth wide open, she stared at the place where Aden stood a few seconds before. She didn’t know how to describe what he just did. Running suddenly seemed like such a slow word. She shook her head. Try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of him. Vampires were supposedly bloodthirsty fiends, but Aden was something else. Nothing about the man seemed typical. He was a vampire, but he didn’t act like folklore described or like Hollywood portrayed. He wasn’t full of sparkly teenage angst or murderous rage. He was more like the ones in the paranormal romance novels Carissa enjoyed reading—sexy beyond comprehension, intelligent, and charismatic. And clumsy. Endearingly clumsy. She couldn’t forget that. He was the perfect man—but he was a vampire.
And he bit her.
Obviously, since she was still alive, she assumed she wouldn’t sprout wings and turn into a bat, which was good, since it would probably clash with the werewolf bite and kill her. She heaved a sigh. There wasn’t anything she could do to change the things that happened last night. Cursing under her breath, she remembered what the wolf said, that she would thank him later. To her way of thinking, becoming furry and howling at the moon wasn’t something she’d be thankful for. Ever. There were a lot of things she could do to have a good time, and becoming a smelly oversized dog wasn’t one of them. If she saw that bastard again, she’d send him off with his tail between his legs and a bullet to his freakishly fuzzy head.
Her anger grew as she stalked toward the door. In fact, she’d get her gun out of storage right away. An annoyed smirk flitting over her lips, Carissa walked across the street, grabbed her spare keys and proceeded straight out to the back shed. Ryan’s gun cabinet was coming back inside. Right. That. Minute.
After unlocking the door, she pocketed her key and walked into the depths of the shed. The cabinet sat tucked in a far corner, covered in dust. She planted her hands on her hips and studied the simple glass doors. Inside, she could see two twelve-gauge shotguns mounted over a small drawer. The combined weight of the case and contents would be more than she was accustomed to carrying, but with a wry look at the bandage on her wrist, she figured she could handle it. If not, what good was becoming a werewolf if she didn’t have the extra strength to go with it?
Moving forward, Carissa lapsed into a coughing fit as swirls of dust plumed into the air. That wouldn’t do at all. She walked back inside her house and grabbed a hair tie from the bathroom. Pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail, she decided to grab a dust cloth and a can of dust spray from the utility room. It was either that or a facemask, and she was fresh out of the latter. Armed with her weapons of mass dust-ruction, she returned to the shed. She sprayed the rag liberally and tackled the invading army of dust bunnies with gusto.
Twenty minutes later, after shaking the rag more than ten times, the cabinet gleamed under the bare hanging bulb, and the only casualties were dirty, gray, and floating away in the wind. She tucked the rag in her back pocket and opened the cabinet, making a mental note to have the lock fixed at the first available opportunity. When she pulled out the drawer, she saw two boxes of ammunition. She placed them and the guns on the desk, emptying the cabinet.
Before she even had time to realize it, she picked up the cabinet and carried it all the way to her living room. The tingle in her skin returning, Carissa placed it against the wall, and stood back, flexing her arms and rolling her neck. Something was… different. She could feel it deep within. As she looked out her window, she tilted her head to the side. Her vision seemed sharper. High-definition squirrels scampered up the side of the tree in her front yard—and she could hear every pitter-patter of their little feet.
Carissa eyed the bandage on her arm, wrestling with awe and shock over her new “normal.” It seemed like the bite was already making changes to her system. Permanent ones. Ones she didn’t consent to.
As she returned to the shed, she refused to scratch the itch that built in the wound. The only thing keeping what was left of her sanity intact was the fact that she couldn’t see the bite, only the bandage. Once that was removed…
Carissa shook her head, pushing the thought to the back of her mind. She’d deal with that when she had to, and not a moment before.
Once she retrieved the weapons and supplies from the shed and stored them away, she showered, changed her clothes, and made herself a double turkey sandwich. She brought it and a can of Coke to the dining table, sat down, and took a bite. As she chewed and savored the tangy flavor of the meat, she booted up the computer. After last night, she had an idea what to type in for the password to the Night C file. When the box opened, she typed in vampires, and sure enough, it worked.
Access Granted.
What Carissa found inside made her skin crawl and changed her feelings about her husband in one click of her mouse. She realized she never knew Ryan at all. Oh, he’d been a journalist for the local paper, all right–she even double-checked the article and confirmed her suspicions that he was the author of the original story. Still, that wasn’t all. He also worked as what he termed an “Enforcer” for the Vampire High Council. He was someone they sent after vampires they wanted dead. When she didn’t think it could get any worse, she then discovered he wasn’t even a regular human.
Ryan was a three-hundred-year-old werewolf.
Glaring at the laptop, Carissa slammed it shut. It wasn’t enough that she’d been bitten recently—she had to find out her husband had never been truly honest with her at all. What next? Am I going to find out fairies live in the woods next to the Swamp Men?
She reached up and smacked the side of her head. “Don’t think like that,” she grumbled aloud. “Every time your brain comes up with a snarky idea, it ends up happening.” Why can’t I believe that things will go back to normal and my world will right itself again? Because I’m not that lucky—ever. Stop thinking about it.
Eyes narrowed, she looked through the window to Aden’s darkened house across the street. He would be sleeping or hanging upside down in the closet—whatever vampires did during the day.
A great peal of thunder broke into her thoughts. The sky went from blue to gray in a flash of lightning, and rain poured down in sheets, obscuring the view. Not that it mattered, anyway. Carissa could love Aden all she wanted, but they could never work. They were both freaks, but they weren’t even the same kind.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Carissa walked outside an hour later, determined to enjoy the watery sunshine after the early afternoon storm. As her senses matured, she could smell the deeper scent of water as it saturated the grass—the woodsy, sweet scent of wet greenery. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The taste of energy in the air from the lightning was like a sweet burst of wood-smoked meat on her tongue. Her ears picked up the sounds of insects gallivanting in the misty dewdrops and above the massive puddles dotting the ground. She inhaled again, the various scents enveloping her. The wet pavement smelled like a blanket heated by the sun; the soaked fur of the dogs in the next yard mixed with the different floral and musks from perfumes and colognes of the neighbors.
As she turned to walk back inside, a new scent assaulted her nose—sweat, saliva, and wet garbage. She looked toward the street just as the neighbor’s dogs began to bark, throwing themselves against the chain link fence in their manic attempt to assault the person walking down the street. Wrinkling her nose, Carissa narrowed her eyes. It was her mail carrier, Timothy, and unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, his hair was bristling, much like an angry cat. His gait was stilted, arms and legs akimbo, as if, were he in animal form, his tail would have been sticking straight up. As a human, however, it just looked like he had a massive wedgie.
Carissa snorted, and Timothy jumped. She watched him inhale as he looked in her direction, his eyes flying wide. No doubt he could smell her wolf. She raised her hand in a friendly greeting. He might smell like wet death, but he’d always been a nice guy. And frankly, part-time dog or not, she had no desire to chase him down and bite him. She headed down her walkway to meet him at the mailbox. “Hey, Tim,” she said, keeping her voice casual, “Got anything other than bills for me today?”
He shrunk back a little, his short frame trying to cower behind her large brick mailbox. “N-no, ma’am. I’m s-sorry.”
Carissa stepped back to give him some room and held up her hands. “I’m not going to bite you, Tim,” she assured “I’m just curious.”
He pulled out a small stack of mail and shoved it into her box without looking at her. “I don’t want any trouble, Mrs. Blaine.” He glanced around nervously. “This is the only route I can deliver in my… condition.”
She offered him a smile. “You have nothing to fear from me. I have to ask, though—what brand are you?”
He smoothed a hand through his hair, standing up a little straighter but he kept his eyes on the ground. “Bobcat,” he murmured.
Carissa’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Really?”
He nodded, now staring past her to her house. “We’re nearly extinct, those of us that are were-s. You won’t say anything, will you?”
Carissa shook her head. “Your secret is safe with me, but I would recommend wearing a stronger cologne. Right now, you smell strong enough to wake the dead. If you want to stay secret, you need to take some better precautions.”
A smile lit his young face. “I’ll do that Mrs. Blaine. You have a nice day.”
Carissa shook her head as he walked away, remembering her reaction after she found out werewolves were real. She’d been half-right in her hysteria—there was a good reason the dogs went nuts about her postman. He really was a cat. Now doesn’t that beat all?
Her good humor returning, Carissa went back inside and sat down in front of Ryan’s computer. The seemingly harmless metallic gray device masked the true nature of its contents, and the despicable, damaging truths Ryan hid from her for so long. On the other hand, she reasoned, if she could move on from his death, she should also be able to move on from his lies. Carissa squared her shoulders and rolled her neck. She decided she would talk to Aden, take him into her confidence the moment the sun went down. Still, she wanted to go armed with as much information as possible.
Ten minutes and a few hard hits to her resolve later, Carissa rethought her decision. Maybe it would be better to handle things on her own. It all came down to one fact: She loved Aden, but if she told him what she found, any interest he might have had in her would dissipate like the smoke of a doused campfire in the middle of a rainstorm. Carissa pushed back from the table, her eyes drawn to the window and the waning light. Should I be brave, or cower and keep my words to myself? Neither option was without risk. But can I live with myself if I make the wrong decision? She knew she could, but she wondered if it was worth it. As the sun dipped below the horizon, she made her choice with a prayer for compassion.
Whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same.
The sun went down with no more than the usual flourish, blanketing the little swamp town in darkness. The first thought in Aden’s mind was Carissa. He wanted to know how she was doing—if she was okay—but he was almost certain she wouldn’t want to see him. Therefore, it came as a surprise when he found her sitting at the table in his kitchen when he walked in to have his first glass of blood. It was like a stake to his heart to see the shadows under her eyes.
Carissa clasped her hands in her lap and didn’t look up when he entered—not that he expected her to. After the night before, he wouldn’t want to make eye contact with him, either.
Aden forced his gait to remain steady as he crossed the room to his refrigerator. Carissa kept her eyes averted while he prepared his meal and didn’t lift her gaze when he sat in the chair next to her. His hand was halfway out of his lap to grasp hers when he thought better of the action. She was clearly upset about something, and he didn’t want to make another mistake with her. He already scared her once by acting like a vampire. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He took a sip of his blood and waited. When Carissa finally looked at him a few minutes later, unshed tears shone in her eyes, which made him feel even worse. However, the words that came from her mouth were not the ones he expected.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged into your house like this. I just didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice warbled a little, as if she was uncertain about his reaction. Aden brought her a tissue for the tears that began to stream freely down her cheeks. He took a chance and placed his hand over hers. He was more than a little surprised when she turned hers over and clasped his with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, sniffling. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I wasn’t this upset when I walked over.” She smiled sheepishly. “Your door was open.”
With his other hand, Aden brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and tilted her chin up so he could look into her stunning green eyes. “It’s okay, Carissa.”
She gave him a watery smile. “I can’t even be mad at you.”
Aden laughed weakly. “I won’t lie. I was afraid you’d be mad at me forever.”
Carissa squeezed his hand. “Oh, I was mad. Very. But I found out some stuff, and frankly, I’m angrier at the hairy bastard that did this.” She held up her left arm, showing him the gauze-covered wound. “Since I didn’t die at some point between last night and tonight, it’s obvious you didn’t change me. But this? This will change me, and that’s unacceptable. I want to hunt that asshole down.”
Aden picked up his cup and downed the rest of the blood. “I’d like to get my hands on him, myself,” he muttered.
Chapter Twenty-Five
His words didn’t register as Carissa’s attention focused on Aden’s drink. Without thought, her fingers raised to slide gently over the bite marks on her neck, and she watched him flinch. That was enough to solidify her decision. She was right to come over and bring him into the loop of what she found out. They might be too different to have a romantic relationship, but a friendship wasn’t out of the cards.
Carissa met his gaze as she lowered her hand, marveling at the worry in those clear blue pools. “You don’t drink from humans, do you?”
Aden’s eyes widened. “Well, no. I’ve never had the inclination. I’m a poor excuse for a vampire, really,” he told her with a grin.
Carissa considered it for a moment, letting her body relax while her mind assimilated the new information. “So, you’ve never fed on anyone before last night?”
Aden stiffened and sighed. “I wish. I didn’t know the area, and as I was in hiding, I didn’t have the resources I do now.” He looked down at his empty cup. “I fed from humans for ten years before my mentor gave in and put me in contact with a local blood bank. I haven’t fed from a person since.” Carissa raised her eyebrow at him and touched the marks on her neck again. Aden’s eyes twinkled. “Anyway, I wouldn’t call last night ‘feeding.’ That was only a taste.” He raised her other hand to his lips, feathering his words against her quivering skin, “One I liked very much.”
Carissa’s mouth dropped open. Heat flooded her face and she didn’t think to pull her hand away. Her body temperature skyrocketed, her heartbeat taking off at a gallop. The honeyed sound of his voice, combined with the quick flash of dimples in his cheeks, sent moist fire burning low in her core. She tried to pull her hand away, but Aden wouldn’t let go—and God, right then, she didn’t want him to. His free hand skimmed over the denim covering her legs, drifting slowly toward the apex of her thighs.
Suddenly coming to her senses, Carissa shot to her feet so swiftly she knocked over the chair she had been sitting in. “I—um…” She took a deep breath as her words broke off. Aden leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not why I came over!” she blurted.
Standing up even faster than she had, Aden backed her against the wall in a move so smooth that she could only blink up at him in surprise. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Then let’s get this out of the way, shall we? I don’t want to be ‘just friends.’ And you don’t, either, do you?”
At the heated look in Aden’s gaze, Carissa would have sawed off her own tongue before arguing, consequences be damned. Aden lowered his mouth to hers, testing, teasing, until her body shivered with anticipation and her lips parted. Her only coherent thought before giving in, was that it wasn’t a kiss, but an invasion of her senses. He plundered her mouth, and Carissa could all but feel her eyes glazing over.
