Broken Heart 01 I'm the Vampire, That's Why (20 page)

A thaisce. I felt his fingers drift down the curve of my cheek. Then he was gone.

When I blinked back into the moment, both of my kids were staring at me over the top of the couch.

"What?"

"You, like, totally zoned," saidBryan .

"Is zoning out a vampire thing, Mommy?" asked Jenny.

"No. But I'll show you something that is a vampire thing." I rose a few feet off the carpet and flew over the couch to settle between them.Bryan jerked up his feet as I landed on the fat, soft cushion.

"That was so cool," saidBryan , his eyes wide. "Can we do that?"

"No," I said. "And don't you try it, either. Okay, guys. I know you have questions. Our lives have changed big time. And you know… well, I'm a vampire now."

It was weird to have a second conversation with my kids about my undeadness, although this one was going a lot better than the first one.

"We understand," saidBryan . "Dr. Stan explained it to everyone when you were sick. You've been sick a lot. Is that normal for vampires?"

"No. Just for me. Don't worry about it, baby. I'm fine now."

"Okay." He shrugged. "It's weird to be awake at night and sleep during the day."

"Having a hard time adjusting?"

"Naw."

I looked at Jenny and saw her serious brown gaze on me. "Does it hurt to be a vampire?" she asked.

"No, honey."

"Dr. Stan said you had to drink blood," saidBryan .

"Yeah," said Jenny. "Whose blood do you drink?"

"Jenny. Ew." I cleared my throat. "Got any questions I want to answer?"

"Prob'ly not," said Bry. "Who's your donor?"

Oh shit. Embarrassment forced me to look at the floor. Why did it feel likeBryan had asked "who's your
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lover"? "What the hell did Stan tell you guys?"

"You cussed," said Jenny. "You gotta put a quarter in the Cussing Jar."

I cussed all the time. Jenny, who was industrious as well as persnickety, had taken a Mason jar, colored a pretty label for it, and put it in the kitchen. Every time she or Bry caught me saying a bad word, I put a quarter in it. Needless to say, they'd earned quite a chunk of change from my potty mouth. Yeah, I know. Some mother, right? Well, every mother has a flaw. Or three.

"All right, squirt. I'll put a quarter in the jar."

"Keep it up, Mom," saidBryan . "We almost got enough to buy another Xbox game."

"Har de har."

"Mommy?"

I turned to Jenny. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to hug them both. But I knewBryan 's hands-off "you're embarrassing me" policy and I was still worried my daughter thought I was a monster.

"What is it, Jenny?"

"Will you read me a story before bedtime?"

Relief cascaded through me. Normalcy. I didn't think it was possible to ever have it again. Maybe it was just redefining the concept of "normal." I looked at her and tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. I don't know. Can you afford my superior reading skills?"

"Maybe," she said. "What do you charge?"

"Two hugs and one kiss."

With tilted head and pursed lips she considered the cost. "That's kinda steep."

"Got a counteroffer?" I raised my brows at her.

She grinned. And I grinned back. Then my sweet baby launched herself into my embrace and wrapped her little arms around my neck. "I can afford your askin' price," she said.

I held on to her and squeezed, trying to gather her warmth, her love into me. I wanted it to soak into my skin. I never wanted her to doubt, to worry, to fear. Oh, the things a mother wanted for her kids. The things we couldn't ever really give them. Because to be human meant you doubted, worried, feared. No matter your age. Not even being a vampire would help me protect my kids against the disappointments and the hurts the world offered.

I looked atBryan . He was watching us, a longing in his eyes that battled with his obvious pride. I loosed one arm and beckoned him into the cuddle. He hesitated. I realized he didn't fear getting close to me, but he hadn't decided if it was worth letting go of his manliness for a minute to enjoy an old-fashioned, girl-infested hug.

He scooted close and I enclosed him with us. For a few perfect moments, we sat there on our new
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couch, my family and I, and reaffirmed our faith in our bond.

"I love you," I said. "I love you so much."

"Aw, Mom."Bryan broke free. He didn't move away, but his face pinched with revulsion. "Don't go mushy on us."

"Too late."

"She loves
The Secrets of Droon
. So didBryan when he was her age. I kept his collection for Jenny and we started reading them a few weeks ago. We're on the seventh book," I told Patrick.

"How many books are there in the series?"

"I dunno. A zillion, I think."

"Ah. It might take a while to finish the series."

I laughed. "Yeah, probably."

Hand in hand, Patrick and I walked down the block, like a regular couple out for a nightly stroll. After the kids were tucked into bed, all the while complaining about their 4 a.m. bedtime (but Moooom, Wilson and Miranda and Joey and Sue Ann all get to stay up until 5 A.M.), it was nearly time for Patrick and me to meet Lorcan.

"We should probably fly there," I said.

"Fly where?" asked a petulant female voice.Nara the Nasty shimmered in front of us, blocking the path.

Oh goodie. My favorite person. Her ensemble screamed "vampire slut." The tight red leather minidress barely covered her vagina. The bustier pushed up and put together her generous boobage and caused what I called the Jell-O Effect (
… watch them wiggle, see them jiggle…
). The high heels she wore were ankle busters; the red straps crisscrossed all the way up her calves. She looked exactly like a vampire chick on the prowl for a human snack.

"Isn't this cozy?" She sent Patrick a blatant do-me-now-big-boy look, obviously pretending I didn't exist.

Patrick's thumb stroked across my palm and pleasure tingled through me. He was mine, right now anyway, so I kept my mouth shut. But being quiet didn't mean I had to be nice. I moved closer to Patrick, dropping his hand to snake my arm around his waist; my thumb hooked into the loop on his 501s. His arm settled around my shoulders. This was a move thatNara noticed. And didn't like.

"Where are you going?" she asked. The "with that bitch" wasn't spoken, but I knew she was thinking it.

"Why do you care,Nara ?" Patrick asked politely.

Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. Wow. I wondered how long it took her to perfect that move. "Of course, I care. I have always cared. It is you I love, Padriag."

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Love? She
loved
him? Yuck. I should've figured something had gone on between them after the Alexis Carrington treatment she bestowed on me. If we were going to have a real
Dynasty
moment, we'd start bitch slapping each other soon. I relished the idea of smackingNara .

"You love only yourself," Patrick said, his voice weary. I got the impression this was an oft-repeated discussion. AndNara didn't seem like a girl who took hints to leave. Hell, she didn't seem like a girl who took "no" for an answer.

Her gaze slid to me then up to Patrick's face. I saw the calculation in her eyes, the slight smirking curve of her lips. "You know I don't mind sharing. Not for a night. And it's not like we haven't done a threesome before." One slim pale shoulder lifted. "I'm not attracted to her, but I will do as you wish. As always."

Patrick tensed, holding on to me so tightly I couldn't move. That bitch. That arrogant, stupid bitch.
Let
me go. I'm going to claw out her eyes
.

Be still, love. Will you give her what she wants?

You're damn right I will. I'll break more than her fucking hand this time, too.

Please, Jessica. We have more important worries thanNara 's petty attempts to tear at our bond.

Argh! Fine! But… argh!

"Don't talk that way in front of Jessica," Patrick warned in a low voice. "You think to embarrass me, but you will only embarrass yourself."

I felt Patrick's weariness. Yeah, this was definitely an ongoing battle. How long had he been putting up with this woman? And why?

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone uninterested.

"You." She sashayed toward him, her hips undulating in a way most men probably found sexy. It reminded me of the way clothes tumbled around in a dryer. "For seven hundred years, I've paid penance for my mistake. When will you forgive me?"

"Never."

Her nostrils flared and I saw the flash of temper in her eyes. She got ahold of herself, though, and allowed her mouth to curl into a sensual smile. "You haven't claimed her. She claimed you and you did not reciprocate. She refuses to bind with you." Her voice dropped into a sexy purr. "We claimed each other, lover. I happily completed the binding with you. And I would again."

The words echoed in my mind like a blast of dynamite.Nara … and Patrick… and the binding? Anger burned through me as I turned to Patrick. "Please tell me that she is not your ex-wife."

"Jessica." He loosed himself and stood next to me, his fists clenched at his sides, his gaze begging me to understand, to accept.

Triumph flared inNara 's gaze. "You didn't tell her that we had been bound?" She tapped a red-painted

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nail on her lips. "Ah. I get it. You're trying to make me jealous, aren't you? I know she looks like Dairine.

But sweetie, that doesn't make her your
sonuachar
."

"She is my
sonuachar
. But I will not force her to live a life she doesn't want to live or be with a man she doesn't love. Her happiness is worth far more than my own. This is a concept you have never understood."

She rolled her eyes. "You've always been difficult. But I enjoy a challenge, as you well know."

"Are we done?" I asked. "Because I'm really bored."

Her lips peeled back into an ugly scowl. Her pretty face twisted with her hatred. "You will regret taking Patrick from me. You will pay with pain and with blood."

"You're pathetic," I said. "A sad, bitter woman who seriously needs some therapy. Three's a crowd and I'm tired of sharing my space with you. Go the hell away."

I looked at Patrick. Maybe I wasn't sure about the soul mate thing or if I wanted to marry him or if it was wise to do the mattress mambo with him. But I had never felt more safe, more cherished, more beloved than when I was with him. I worried about the future, about my kids, about so many things. But I knew that I wanted Patrick. I really, really,
really
wanted him. And so, I whispered, "Claim me."

"Jessica." My name was a prayer issued from his lips—and that tender refrain whispered through me like a silken promise. Patrick placed his hand on my neck and murmured, "Mine." I felt a tingling heat bloom and fade. Another honeysuckle? Or was Patrick's symbol different?