Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (11 page)

Wait a minute. This bed was too big to be hers. The curtains were heavier and admitted less sunlight. Those boots in the corner weren’t her style or size. A man’s slacks hung over the back of a chair.

This wasn’t her bed. Or her room. Or her apartment.

The panic that had begun to abate surged over her again. She’d gone shopping. She’d gone home. She’d been attacked outside her door. By a vampire. Jeremy’s partner, Wallace, had saved her. He claimed to be a vampire, too. This was their house and their bed. She was their guest. Or a prisoner.

She gripped the sheets while she tried to get a grip on herself. Of course she wasn’t a prisoner. Nut jobs or not, they’d come to her aid twice now. If she wanted to walk out the door, she was fairly certain they’d let her. If they didn’t, well, she still knew where to aim her knee.

Buoyed by this knowledge, Colleen unknotted her legs from the sheets and slid out of bed. She’d go home, call the police, and file a report on the attacker she had watched crumble to dust.

All right, maybe Jeremy had a point. The cops would want to know where the body was. The teeth and crimson eyes she could explain with plastics and tinted lenses. Justifying the ash trick wouldn’t be so easy.

Coffee. Coffee first. Then figure out her next move.

But not in Jeremy’s shirt. Colleen bit her lip over the sorry state of her poor little blouse and slacks combo, hastily folded last night and set on the bureau. She couldn’t face the world in that, after all she had put it through yesterday. She went to the closet in search of a robe to borrow.

After some casual rooting—
somebody
had a major jones for jeans and black tees—she came up with two possibilities. Jeremy’s was out of the question. She’d drown in all that fabric, if she didn’t trip and break her leg. She hesitated over the other. The terrycloth garment would fit her well enough if she double-knotted. Except it belonged to Wallace. Mr. Stakey. Mr. Fangs.

Well, beggars in wrinkly shirts couldn’t be choosers. She slipped the robe off its hanger and pulled it on. It fell past her shins, and she had to roll up the sleeves, but otherwise, she found it quite comfortable.

More than comfortable, in fact. She found it comfort
ing
. His sea-breeze scent filled her nostrils and filled her soul with reassurance. This robe had rubbed against his skin just as his skin rubbed against Jeremy’s. Wrapping herself in Wallace’s robe was almost like being naked next to them both. The notion sent a tingle through her clear down to her pussy, which became moist at the thought.

No way could she blame this reaction on adrenaline overload.
What in God’s name is wrong with me?

Mandatory change in plans. Take a shower first.

Afterwards, with her hair still damp and her nerves still jangling, she belted on the robe again and padded downstairs. She found only Jeremy up and around, still in his same shirt and slacks outfit as yesterday. He had coffee brewing and was fixing breakfast.

Their kitchen was roomier than hers. Keeping her distance from him ought to be a snap.

Colleen’s resolve took a solid hit when Jeremy turned and smiled. That one look made her want to run into his arms and snuggle there forever. She made herself hang back and smile demurely and hope the neighbors weren’t disturbed by the thunderous pound of her heart.

“Good morning,” Jeremy said. “You sleep okay?”

“Off and on.” She accepted his gestured invitation and took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Would you like coffee?” Jeremy asked.

“God, yes. I mean, thank you.” She gratefully accepted the mug he handed her and gulped the black brew without benefit of sugar. If that didn’t jolt her fully awake, nothing would. It did help dissolve the shreds of her disturbing dreams. As far as sexy Jeremy’s proximity—nope, no help at all.

Time for a much-needed dash of discouragement. “Where’s Wallace?”

“Sleeping.” He nodded toward the window and its incoming stream of sunshine. “He checked back at your place last night but didn’t find anything. Oh wait, he did. Hold on a sec.” Jeremy ducked out of the kitchen and returned with a pair of shopping bags. He handed them to Colleen. “These are yours, right?”

She nodded silently. In spite of her use of the bag as a weapon, her new shoes had survived intact. The blue dress was similarly unscathed. Already it seemed like it had all happened a lifetime ago.

“I have to call Norelle,” she said, half to herself. “A bunch of us are supposed to go out tonight.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Jeremy said. “Even in a group, it’s too risky, unless Wallace or I go along. That would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

“Pretty much.” Colleen set the bags beside her chair. At least she had something to wear now. “So what happens now? I’m supposed to stay inside all the time?”

“Only at night. You should be safe during the day.”

“Right. Vampires. I forgot,” she said sarcastically. “I suppose Wallace is lying in a coffin in the cellar right now?”

“Of course not. He’s in bed upstairs. I wouldn’t disturb him. He can function during the day, but he doesn’t like to. He gets really grouchy.”

Might as well go for broke. “Am I your prisoner?”

He gaped at her. “Why would you even think that? We’re just trying to keep you safe.”

“That attack at the school happened during daylight, you know.”

“It was really cloudy, and he had a long coat and a hat on. They’ll come out in daylight if the need is great enough. They must want you really bad.”

“What about work? I can’t just quit my job.”

“No one’s asking you to. I doubt if they’ll strike there again. It’s too exposed. You can use your car if you take precautions, or I can drop you off and pick you up.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes.” He turned back to the stove to tend to the bacon sizzling there. “I wish I could give you a more concrete answer, but these are vampires. They know how to hide. You like pancakes?”

He was certainly adept at avoidance and better at denial than she was. Colleen decided to allow it until after breakfast. She okayed the pancakes, then sat in broody silence while the odors from the stove got her stomach rumbling and her mouth watering. She tried to avoid staring at Jeremy’s lanky body and firm ass. She didn’t need any other parts of her watering in public.

Jeremy brought their plates to the table and took the seat opposite Colleen. It was still too close. She found herself leaning over her plate, angling her body toward his. Jeremy was doing the same. This madness had to stop.

“I’m going home after breakfast,” she announced.

“Okay. I’ll come with you. If you’re going to be staying here for a while you’re going to need a few things.” He reached across the too-small distance and fingered her terrycloth sleeve. “Starting with a bathrobe.”

“I mean, I’m going home to stay. I appreciate everything you and Wallace have done for me, but the police can take it from here. I’ll go home, report what happened last night, and we can all go on with our lives.”

He looked at her with that sincerity she found so hard to resist. “I wouldn’t advise that. They’re sure to try again.”

“You’re probably right, but I won’t live in fear, and you two shouldn’t have to put yourselves out looking after me. I’ll get a cross and some garlic. I’ll be fine.”

“No,” he said. “You won’t. Last night should have proved that.”

“The police will handle it,” she said, each syllable carefully enunciated. “Why don’t you really want me to call them?”

“Because the police don’t believe in vampires. Wallace will take care of this. Just be patient. At least stay with us until we hear back from Gus.”

“Gus? Gus Stanton? He’s in on this craziness, too?”

“He and Annie are old friends of Wallace’s. They’re looking into a couple of angles for us.”

Colleen quickly did the math. Gus was a psychiatrist. Gus knew Wallace. Wallace thought he was a vampire. Everything clicked into place. Okay, she could play along. If all else failed, she had Annie’s number. Surely the Stantons wouldn’t leave her in danger.

“One more night,” she allowed. “I still need to go back to my place. For starters, my clothes are a wreck.”

“Fair enough.” He dug into his breakfast again as if the matter were settled. Best to let him think so, for now.

After breakfast, Jeremy took charge of the dishes, and Colleen went upstairs to get dressed. All she had was her new club outfit, but beggars and choosers, et cetera.

At the top of the stairs she paused before the door to the second bedroom. Or was it the coffin room? Though Jeremy might deny it, she couldn’t help sneaking a peek. She might have to repeat all the facts later on to the cops.

The knob turned easily under her hand. She peered inside. No coffin. The room’s single window had been covered by a black tarp over what looked like the outlines of a sheet of plywood. The sole illumination leaked in from the hall. When these wackos role-played, they didn’t mess around.

Wallace sprawled on his back on a regular bed with the sheet pulled over his head. The jut of his nose and chin marked the location of his face. One pale-skinned hand hung over the side of the bed, limp as that of a corpse.

Colleen watched the sheet for several minutes. It never moved, neither around his mouth and nose nor above the broad slab of his chest. Shouldn’t there be the occasional twitch and sigh or snore that came with sleep? Shouldn’t there be some indication of breath here?

She set her bags on the floor and crept inside. Her foot hit a floorboard that groaned an alarm. Wallace didn’t murmur, stir, shift, or do anything other than lie there in a suddenly ominous silence.

Spurred by concern and curiosity, Colleen sidled up to the bed. She gingerly plucked up a fold of the sheet. Lordy, what a build. He clearly took his workouts to heart. Those pecs were wider across than her palm, and his stomach was flat as a board. None of those expertly sculpted muscles showed any indications of life. His skin had a waxy cast to it. Her late Uncle Oscar, lying in his casket in the funeral home, had looked more alive than this.

Oh God. Oh God. He’s dead. He’s really dead.

She wanted to scream for Jeremy but couldn’t get any sound to come out. Steeling herself, she pressed two fingers to his neck in hopes of locating a pulse. His skin was as chilly as death. Just like that other, the silver-eyed man in her dream.

Wallace’s eyes snapped open. The so-called corpse went from dead to abrupt, violent life. The limp hand hanging over the side of the bed shot up and seized her wrist. His eyes had lost their green beneath a wash of crimson. His bared fangs looked enormous in his snarling mouth, barely an inch from her face.

The scream that had failed her before erupted now. Colleen yanked frantically at her arm, but his steely grip held her fast. The emotions from her nightmare flooded over her at full force and shot her scream up the scale into a panicked shriek.

Wallace recoiled from the noise. He blinked at her. “The hell?”

The thud that echoed beneath her screams wasn’t her heartbeat. That was Jeremy charging up the stairs. She broke free of Wallace and leaped for the door and straight into Jeremy’s arms. He flung her at the doorway, almost into the wall. Her scream died at the look on his face. The concern she’d expected to see wasn’t there. He glowered down at her with a cold, still fury that scared her more than Wallace’s red eyes.

He hadn’t set his body between them to protect her from Wallace, she realized. He was protecting Wallace from her.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” he demanded.

Colleen waved her arm in Wallace’s general direction. “He wasn’t breathing.” She peered around Jeremy to Wallace as if she expected him to confirm it. Wallace now sat on the edge of the bed. He glared at her with a look that somehow combined exasperation with amusement.