A Vampire for Christmas

chapter SIX





THE PAST THREE DAYS had been long, hard and hurtful. Even decorating the small tree she’d bought for the front window hadn’t improved Della’s mood. Normally, unwrapping the ornaments she’d collected over the years had her smiling as she sang along with the Christmas music playing on the radio. Right now it felt like just one more thing on her long to-do list before turning in for the night.



It was bad enough that Eagan had been a no-show for the past three nights, but then she’d gotten in an argument over him with Lupe. Yeah, maybe she overreacted when her friend noticed that Della had kept the front table available all evening just in case he came. Lupe looked thoroughly disgusted and said flat out that it would be best for all concerned if Eagan never stepped through the front door again.



Yeah, her emotions were a tangled mess right now. The whole thought of never seeing him again hurt a lot more than was justified by their brief acquaintance. If only Lupe would simply say what she had against the man, but she refused. After a brief exchange of words, Della had announced to any and all who were listening that regardless of Eagan’s reasons for not returning, he was still welcome anytime.



To make matters worse, right after Lupe left, Della had a run-in with Daniel over something equally stupid—his sweatshirt. The kitchen had been steaming hot, but he’d kept it on even though he’d been sweating like crazy. When she’d asked him about it, he’d exploded. Even though she’d tried to apologize, he’d continued to slam pots and pans around loudly enough to bother her customers.



In the end, she’d sent him home. Her only worry was that when he’d walked out of the door, he’d headed in the opposite direction of his family’s apartment. At least he’d called her an hour later to apologize. She’d heard his brothers playing in the background, so he’d been calling from home. A few of the knots in her stomach had loosened, but not all of them. There was something going on with her young friend. All she could do was cross her fingers that he got it figured out and soon.



She pulled out the next ornament and smiled. It was a small gargoyle, a funny mix of ugly and cute. Her mother had collected gargoyles for years, and Della had bought her a new one every Christmas. This little guy was the one she’d given her mother their last Christmas together. Every year since he had held a position of honor on her tree, right out front where everyone could see him because nothing screamed Christmas like a guy with an impish smile and fangs. The thought made her giggle.



Earlier, she’d wrapped a few packages to put under the tree for her favorite customers. Over the summer, she had knitted a cap and scarf for Harry and tucked a handmade gift certificate for five dinners inside. She’d bought a small wolf ornament for Lupe, who collected them much as Della did gargoyles. For Daniel, she’d gotten a gift card to one of his favorite clothing stores. The rest of her staff got similar presents. She arranged them around the bottom of the tree and stood back to admire her work.



It looked good. Christmas was only three days away now. She always stayed open on the twenty-fourth for the last-minute shoppers. Christmas Day, too, could also be a lonely day without someone to share it with. She should know. Lacking any family of her own, she’d built one.



Each year more and more people came by. A few stayed the whole time. Others popped in for a few minutes before heading on to their next stop. She kept the menu simple: soup, homemade bread, mulled cider and Christmas cookies. That left her free to play board games and watch favorite holiday movies with her friends. Everyone pitched in to help with the cleanup.



She hung the last few ornaments and lugged the empty boxes back down to the basement. Despite the late hour, she was too restless to go to bed. Maybe she’d bake that last batch of cookies now instead of in the morning. Tomorrow she’d box them up with a bow to hand out as gifts.



Eagan popped into her mind. Despite his continued absence, she wanted him to have something under the tree with his name on it. Just in case.



She crossed the dining room to look outside. For the past few days she’d had the strangest feeling she was being watched. Normally that would creep her out, but this was different. Maybe she was playing mind games with herself, but she had the strangest sense that someone was watching over her.



Feeling foolish, she turned off the lights and headed for the kitchen. Those cookies wouldn’t bake themselves. She tied on her apron and turned on the ovens to heat. While they did their thing, she went into the storeroom and half dragged, half carried a new fifty-pound bag of flour out into the kitchen and heaved it up on the counter.



Then she went back to get a package of baker’s chocolate. After unwrapping it, she used her chef’s knife to chop the dark chocolate into small pieces before dropping them into the top of her double boiler. She added the first batch to the pan and then went back to cutting as she did her best to ignore her aching back and tired feet.



As late as it was, she probably should’ve waited until tomorrow to start this, but baking always relaxed her. She kept rocking the knife, whittling away at the chocolate. When she had another pile ready, she scooped it up with the back edge of her knife blade.



That’s when the trouble started. Her foot slipped causing her to bump the counter with her hip hard enough to send the bag of flour toppling over to collide with her arm. The chocolate flew everywhere while the razor-sharp blade sliced her hand wide-open.



A flood of crimson pooled in the palm of her hand and poured onto the floor. She grabbed a clean towel and stepped over the pile of flour on her way to the dining room. She’d call for help from the phone by the register and unlock the front door so the medics could get in.



She dripped a trail of blood on the floor all the way into the other room. Her head was already woozy as she fumbled with the lock. She needed to sit down. Now. Maybe lying down would be even smarter, but not until she called 911. She’d been using her good hand to hold pressure on the cut. When she let go to dial the phone the blood started gushing again.



Stars and spots danced in her eyes, and the floor came rushing up. Or at least she thought it was, but somehow she never hit bottom. Something had stopped her fall. No, someone. As her world spun, she closed her eyes and whispered a one-word question.



“Who?”



“Della, it’s me.”



She knew that deep voice. That, combined with the smell of fine leather, put a name to the man who had swooped her up in his arms and then settled her in a chair near the kitchen. How odd that he’d kneel at her feet.



Her eyes stubbornly refused to cooperate enough for her to see her rescuer clearly. “Eagan, is that you?”



“Yes, damn it, it is. Now relax and let me see your hand. I’m going to lift the towel away to see how badly you’re hurt.”



She tried to comply but couldn’t quit shivering. Eagan muttered a curse and then wrapped her in his coat. As grateful as she was for its warmth, she was worried about ruining it. When she tried to shrug it off her shoulders, he tugged it right back up in place.



“It will get blood all over it.”



“It won’t be the first time. Now sit still and let me do this.”



Eagan hissed when he peeled the towel away from her hand. “Damn, that’s deep. Okay, we’ll do this the hard way.”



He caught her chin in his hand. “Open your eyes and look at me, Della.”



Although his voice remained calm, she didn’t mistake his request for anything other than a direct order. She stared down into his blue eyes. No, right now they weren’t blue at all, but black. “Eagan, your eyes!”



“I know, but don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.”



That darkness in his gaze was swallowing her whole. She could still hear him talking, but from a long distance away. He smiled at her. Such a sad, sad smile on his handsome face. And when had his teeth gotten so big? Not all of them. Just those two.



He was nodding, so maybe she’d said all that out loud, although she didn’t think so.



He kept talking. “Breathe slowly, Della, and everything will be fine. Some of this is going to seem weird, but I’m hoping you won’t remember any of it. I swear you can trust me not to hurt you.”



She smiled down into those blazing black eyes. “I know that, Eagan.”



Then he did the oddest thing. He raised her hand up to his mouth and licked her blood-drenched palm.





MAN OH MAN, HER BLOOD was so damned sweet. Eagan lapped at the open wound, letting the coagulant in his saliva do its job. Already the flow was growing more sluggish. He turned his attention to the rest of her hand, cleansing the surrounding skin so he could make sure there were no other secondary wounds.



She’d sure done one hell of a number on her hand. What was she doing messing with a knife this late at night? She had to be tired after putting in a full day and half the night waiting on her customers.



By the time he got the worst of the blood cleaned away he knew there was no way he was going to be able to block this from her mind. Although the chemicals in his saliva would eventually seal the wound closed, they weren’t powerful enough to make the resulting scar fade fast enough to keep her from seeing it.



The other problem was the potential damage to tendons and nerves. Della needed her hand to do her job. Seattle offered some of the best medical care in the world, but the healing properties of his blood would beat a surgeon’s best efforts. It wouldn’t take much. Just a few drops.



She was already going to freak out over this. He might as well go for broke. Della might hate what he’d done, might hate what he was, but he could live with that if it gave her back full use of her hand.



He covered the wound with the bloody towel to keep her from seeing it closing up on its own accord.



“I’ll be right back, Della. You need fluids.”



She frowned. “Shouldn’t we go to the hospital? I need stitches.”



His hold on her mind was already slipping, which meant he needed to get moving. “It’s not as bad as you thought, but I’ll keep an eye on it. If you need emergency care, I’ll see that you get it.”



In the kitchen, he rooted through the industrial refrigerator for something that would cover the taste of his blood. The best he could come up with was a bottle of chai tea. He cut into the pad of his thumb and squeezed a few drops of blood into a mug and then added a few more. Better too much than too little. After adding the tea, he gave it a quick stir with his finger and hurried back to Della.



He shoved the mug into her free hand. “Drink this down.”



“Bossy.”



“I know, but this is the best thing for what ails you.”



She dutifully took a sip. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “What is this?”



“Chai tea.”



“It doesn’t taste like any tea I’ve ever tasted.”



“I added my own special blend of ingredients.” That was true enough.



After several sips, she smiled. “I like it. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”



He knelt by her side again. “How about I promise to make it for you anytime you want some?”



She drained it to the last drop. Already her color was improving and her eyes looked more focused. On him. Really seeing him for the first time.



“Your eyes,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I wasn’t dreaming. They are black.”



Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “And your teeth. What happened to them?”



He rocked back on his heels, putting that much room between them. The bleeding had stopped, but the scent still hung heavily in the air, leaving his control shaky.



It’s the blood, Della. It calls to me.”



That makes no sense, Eagan. Why would you say such a thing?”



He stood up. “Because it’s true. Sit still while I get you another drink.”



And throw the blood-soaked towel outside in the trash and pour bleach on it to kill the scent, which was making it nearly impossible to keep his vampire nature under control. For both their sakes, he also needed to mop up the gruesome trail that stretched across two rooms.



He didn’t bother to hide his unnatural speed while cleaning up. He could hear Della moving around. Based on her footsteps, she was in the ladies’ room washing her hand.



What the heck? That’s not possible.”



While waiting for her to reappear, he refilled her tea, this time without the extra ingredient. He poured a glass for himself, too. A stiff shot of scotch or three would’ve done him more good, but that wasn’t an option right now. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited for the inquisition to begin.