Silent Night: Vampire Holiday Romance (The Night Songs Collection Book 4) (3 page)

"Your leftovers are in the fridge," he said, like he hadn't just done an amazing amount of things in way too short amount of time. "I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite, so it's probably a good thing you brought that back with you."

"That‘s fine. I’ll have it for breakfast." I sunk back into the couch, sighing as the soft sherpa blanket brushed against my skin.

Aidan had finally settled in a oxblood red recliner. The thing looked ancient, but appropriate for the rest of the room. "Would you like some tea?"

"Sure. You're into tea, aren't you?" He’d had it at the diner, too. I didn’t know any men who drank it.

"I am. I like the variety." He didn’t stay seated for long.

"Don't you drink coffee?" Somedays, I would probably bleed coffee.

"Too bitter. I like sweet things," he called from the kitchen. I didn't feel the need to follow him. I went back to looking at his books.
A Christmas Story
would be on all night and all day. I knew it by heart anyway, I didn't really have to pay attention.

For a seemingly manly guy, he had an awful lot of romance books. Interesting. Vampire books, writing manuals, classics, things in French that could have been anything, and more romances.

"Do you want cream and sugar?" Aidan had come in the room with my tea. Again he'd startled me with his silent movement.

"No. I like it bitter." I set the cup down on the small bit of end table by the couch that didn't have a book on it. "This is quite an interesting collection."

He ran his hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. He was still in his suit, so I felt a little odd wearing his clothes. "Oh yeah. Some of those are for research."

"For what?" I mean, didn't most guys just watch porn? Was this guy practicing to be some sort of Renaissance man Cassanova?

"I write." He looked nervous again. He was probably really sorry he'd saddled himself with me for the night. I promised myself I'd be out as soon as it was light out. We could both put this behind us like it never happened. But that couch was too comfy and those blankets too warm to even think about letting him out of his offer now. He might be weird, but I had even money chances of getting attacked here or out on the street. At least here, I had a slight chance of dying happy. Or even just comfortable.

"What do you write?" My mind flashed to that scene in
The Shining,
the one when we learn all Jack Nicholson's character had written was ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy‘ over and over again.

"Romance novels." He gave me a lopsided smile as he settled back into his chair. He took a sip of his tea before continuing. "Under a
nom de plume
of course. If word got out a man wrote those books, well, there would be an uprising."

"Nice. You're living a double life. Are you going to tell me what name you write as?" He had better, or else I'd spend the rest of the night prying the information out of him. He owed it to me. He‘d already made me cry over my tuna melt.

"Allison Duprois."

Best selling author Allison Duprois?
Holy crap. If this was even true."No shit. I love those books."

"You do?" He looked surprised. "I took you as more of a mystery suspsense type of girl."

"What girl deep down inside doesn't fall for a good love story?" Allison, or apparently Aidan, wrote about a vampire who'd been searching through the ages for the reincarnation of the wife he left behind when he became immortal. The books were sexy, sweet, and sad, because after a half a dozen or so books he had yet to find her.

Part of me hoped that someday, he would find her, but the rest of me never wanted the story to end.

The vampire, David, always wound up sucking his love interest dry at the end when he realized the new girl was not his beloved 2.0. David never gave up, he vowed to keep searching for his wife.

I hoped this guy didn't have alternate reality confusion issues and thought he was really a vampire. I may claim to bleed coffee, but I didn't want to prove it.

Focus on the positive. "I really identify with Marielle." Marielle was the wife David the vampire was searching for, even though she had to have died close to three hundred years ago. "There's just something about her, like, I would do and say exactly what she does, you know?"

Aidan nodded. "I can see that." He was beaming. Even though he'd sold enough books to land him on the bestseller lists, I was sure praise for your work never got old.

"So, you don't get to talk about this a lot, since no one knows that you're her, or she's you, or that you write as Allison."

"I do interviews as Allison. It's easier now, over the internet. But people really want to know about authors, too. The fans want access to everything. Allison is a character, just like the ones in the books. An actress does public appearances, I use her photos online. It works out. I get to enjoy the creativity twofold and don‘t have to deal with the distractions that come with it."

"That's so cool. So how did you start writing romance? It just seems unlikely for a guy like you. I would have guessed that you were a lawyer or a banker or something."

"Something boring like that?" The reflection of the fire danced in his dark eyes, and the heat from the flames flushed his cheeks. He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, but that was all. It was enough to make him look dishelved, earthy.

Sexy as hell.

"There's a lot of me in that story," he continued. "I lost my wife at a young age. Like David and Marielle, we got married young, and we struggled a lot. I didn't know life without her anymore. I didn't want to know my life without her, so I kept trying to replace her."

The way he said it made it sound like he'd found peace with his loss through writing. "What was your wife's name?"

"Marielle."

"Oh. Just like in the books?" It might have just been my imagination, but a chill swept over the room. He looked so sad. I understood. Sure, I hadn't even met the love of my life yet, but I knew loss. Boy, did I know loss. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you when I said I identified with her."

"No. Not at all. In fact, that's why I sat next to you in church. Because you reminded me of her. Your dark hair, she used to pull it back in a bun like you do all the time. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve, and now your sassiness. If Marielle were in this situation-- " He stopped, obviously picturing her in my place, "I think she'd react just like you have.“

“In what way?” How the hell did he know how I’d react? And that I always wore my hair in a bun?

“Just like you,” he didn’t back down from his statement. “She was a fighter."

Hearing him say that made me feel better about staying here tonight. I was glad he recognized that I wasn't some simpering little flower begging to become a victim. I might not be the brightest light on the Christmas tree, but I didn't go down without a fight.

I didn't let my guard down, but again, I felt like I could share a little bit with him. After all, he'd opened his home to me and told me his big secret. "I lost my grandmother this year. I lived with her, in the senior housing. That's why I don't have any place to go. They kicked me out and I don't have enough money for my own place. So I've been floating. Friends houses." I didn't mention Matt. I guess he roughly qualified as a friend. If nothing else, he had a house. "And sometimes the shelter on bad nights. But I think my Memere, which is French for grandmother--"
"I know." Aidan smiled.

"Of course. Anyway, she'd appreciate you doing this. She'd be devastated if she knew what was happening to me. The plan was, I was supposed to go away to college, but she got sick, and..." I trailed off, not being able to finish the story. It didn't matter. He knew how it ended.

"Kyndra, she's proud of you now. You're doing the best you can. And you'll get to college. You don't have to do everything all at once. Life isn't a sprint, you know."

I was crying, again. "I know. But she was so young! Only sixty. I mean, she still had all these things she wanted to do. But she didn't, because she was raising me. Then she got sick. And now she can't do them. Ever." She’d been my best friend, so much more than anyone my own age, and I had taken so much from her. I tried to make everything as good for her as I could, especially at the end. I still held on to the hope if I did everything just right, I’d find out this was all a nightmare, and I could have my grandmother back. My life back.

"That's not your fault." Aidan looked like he wasn't exactly sure what to do. I was glad he stayed in the chair. I didn't want him to touch me. I needed too much right now. More than I could handle. "She took care of you because she loved you."

"I know that. But still, I feel guilty, you know. Her work was done. But my mother, that's another story all together. I guess Memere felt like she had to get it right, since she didn't the first time."

"You were lucky to have each other." This time Aidan did get up. He came over to me and ran his hand over my hair so lightly I could barely feel it. My whole body tensed at his touch. He pulled away and I was able to exhale. "I write at night and all this talk of Marielle and your Memere has insipired me. If I don't write it right away, I lose it. I hope you'll forgive me."

"No, that's fine." It was perfect. The night had left me emotionally spent. I had no more to give.

"I sleep all day, since I stay up so late to write. You are welcome to stay as long as you want. Don't feel like you have to leave if you have no place to go. I mean that."

I nodded. We wished each other good night and I watched him disappear into the shadows of his hallway. I fell asleep, watching
A Christmas Story
, in pajamas that were new to me, dreaming about home.

Four

I headed to the kitchen in search of my leftover sandwich. A Dunkin' Donuts box sat on the butcher block island with a note on top of it.

I thought you should have something more festive than a tuna melt for breakfast. There's coffee in the fridge. Cream and sugar on the side. I know you like it bitter.

Hope to see you later.

Now that was sweet. And thoughtful. I smiled and leaned against the counter as I heated up my coffee in the microwave. I dumped all the cream in and added three packets of sugar. Maybe I wasn't such a bitter girl after all.

I peeked inside the box and found a dozen sinful looking donuts calling my name. Some of them were standards like chocolate honey dip, glazed, and jelly but there were also frosted ones with candy and christmas trees. I kept reaching in and then changing my mind. Screw it, it's Christmas. And I was starving. The only advantage of never knowing where my next meal was coming from was not having to worry about calories. I took the jelly and the one with the Christmas tree on it and headed back to the living room with my coffee to catch up with Ralphie and Randy.

This was the point in the day I typically entered
A Christmas Story
overload. I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I felt weird staying, but there wasn't anywhere else for me to go. And honestly, I wanted to stay.

Something about being here just felt right. But I didn’t know what. I’d brought Aidan’s note to the couch with me. I read it over and over.

I flipped through channels, settling on a Celtics game. I usually only watched basketball during the playoffs with Matt, so I had a hard time staying interested in the game. I didn't know if it was just my anxiety making me restless. I felt trapped in Aidan's living room, as cozy as it was. Normally I'd kill for a lazy day like this. But now that I had it, I wasn't letting myself enjoy it.

This sense of peace and safety made me feel guilty. Like I didn’t deserve to feel this way. Bullshit. And just to prove to myself I did, I ate another donut.

Once I'd had enough of listening to the obnoxious commentators, I snapped off the TV and went over to the bookshelf. Like the donuts, the choices were overwhelming. I picked up one of my favorite Allison Duprois books,
A Piece Of My Heart.

I knew Talis wasn't Marielle, but there was something about her I couldn't let go. The fire in her eyes warmed me, her touch made me feel like I was still alive. Every night I went to see her, she'd smile as I laid my money on the table. She knew to wait for me. I was coming. I couldn't lose her, too. I needed to have her with me always. I'd have plenty of time to make her understand later.

I held the open book against my chest and stared into space, thinking about what I just read. I'd read this book before. David had just become a vampire and watched Marielle mourn his death from the shadows. The pain of not being able to comfort her was worse for him than the pain of dying. He'd begun visiting whorehouses in Quebec City to ease the pain. David knew that he didn't need blood to survive, he just needed to be around people. Not only did he fall for Talis, a fiery little prostitute, but she felt the same about him. She trusted him enough to share blood with him. In David‘s world, the blood exchange was purely sexual. The vampires could survive on energy. The relationship went places neither of them knew was possible.