Eleven
Nothing was a piece of cake with Corbin. Brittany scratched her itchy stomach through her shirt and watched her bloodsucking boyfriend assess car seats. After his initial exclamation of, “Why the hell are there so many?” he had methodically started at one end and was reading the features of each seat.
Fortunately, he read quickly, his lips moving as he ticked them off down the line. Halfway through the twenty models, he looked at her and said, “When I was a boy, my nanny just held me on her lap.”
“Unless you’re a celebrity, that will get you arrested nowadays.” She really wanted to tell him to just pick one, damn it, but she’d already tried that in the baby monitor aisle and had mortally wounded his feelings. Even worse, it hadn’t made him move any faster. Apparently vampires were used to disposable time, because Corbin moved like molasses uphill in a snowstorm.
“I think this one is too masculine. What if it is a girl?” He gestured to the stripped navy blue car seat.
Brittany didn’t think she cared, really. It wasn’t like their daughter was going to have a gender crisis because her car seat was blue, and besides, she didn’t believe in encouraging those kinds of stereotypes. But if it helped him narrow the list down, she’d be down with blue. “Good point.”
“Then again, on the other hand, this has the highest safety ranking.”
If he weren’t so damn adorable, Brittany would be sorry she’d brought him. But he was adorable. He was so sweet and concentrating so hard, so flippin’ cute, that she wanted to just eat him up whole. How lucky could she be? She’d had unprotected sex with a vampire she barely knew from Adam and gotten pregnant, not an auspicious beginning. But not only had he stepped up to the plate to accept his responsibility, he was giving her hot fitting room sex and debating the pros and cons of car seats like they were sinking half a million dollars into buying a house, not spending a hundred on a carrier seat they’d use for a whopping six months. Because he cared about their baby’s safety. Swoon.
Not every girl pregnant by a vampire was going to be that lucky, you know.
But it still made for a long night. Thank God the store was open until midnight. She would have previously wondered who shopped for baby supplies at eleven at night, but now she had her answer. Tired fathers buying formula and diapers, stressed-out mothers dashing in to pick up infant Tylenol, crying, red-faced babies in their arms, and pregnant dentists whose undead partners slept all day long.
When Corbin had narrowed it down to three models, he asked her opinion. “Which one?”
“I think this one,” she said, pointing to one at random, liking its earthy tone.
“It looks more difficult to maneuver than the others,” he said with a frown.
“Then this one.” She pointed to the green one.
“The canopy doesn’t extend as far.”
“Then how about this one?” She pointed to the last remaining one, two models down from the others.
He nodded. “Good choice.”
Brittany almost rolled her eyes. Instead, she just handed him the scanner. He was really enjoying adding items to their registry with the little wand. Clicking the button and capturing the bar code brought a smile to his face every time he used it. Now he wielded the wand like a saber and slashed through the air, scanning at an angle.
“There. It es on ze list.”
Men never changed. They could turn anything into a toy or a weapon.
“Zap one of those headrest things while you’re at it.” There were only three choices, all looking very nearly the same. “Just pick the cheapest one.”
To her amazement, he actually complied. “On to ze high chairs,” he said, consulting the New Parent checklist he had in his other hand.
Brittany noticed that the intense concentration of baby registry sign-up had impacted his English. He sounded fresh from Paris. Not that his vocabulary in English was lacking, because the extensiveness of that constantly amazed her. But he could never entirely shed his accent. It suddenly made her wonder if he would teach their baby French. How cool. Her baby would be bilingual. So when her child was annoyed with her that she had to clean her room, she could bitch about it in French and Brittany would never know what she was saying. Maybe not such a good thing after all.
“Who exactly is going to purchase these items for us? I still do not understand why we don’t just buy them ourselves,” he said as he ran his hand over a contemporary white high chair.
“Where does your money come from, Corbin?” she blurted out, suddenly curious.
He shrugged. “Family money. We were very wealthy in the nineteenth century and I was the last of the line, so it all came to me upon my parents’ death. I have lived modestly, the money has grown through investments. My research is funded by an ancient vampire, so I do not spend my personal money. I am very wealthy. Perfectly capable of seeing to all the needs of our infant.”
He looked offended so she put out her hand. “Chill out. I wasn’t implying you couldn’t. I was just curious. And the whole point of registering is so people can buy us gifts. It’s tradition. People want to give gifts when you have your first child. Everyone at my office will be giving me gifts, and Ethan and Alexis will want to buy us something, and my college friends, my next-door neighbor, your vampire friends… ”
Making a face, Corbin said, “I do not have any friends.” He moved down the row. “Not these. Neither of us has this type of furnishing. We are more traditional.”
Brittany felt her heart swell. She hadn’t meant to remind him of his loneliness. She hadn’t even realized the truth of what he had just said. Yes, Alexis, Ethan, and Cara had all told her Corbin was not accepted by most vampires, but she had figured he had some friends or comrades tucked away somewhere. She knew he was something of a loner, but that had always seemed like his choice to her. Now she understood that no matter what a certain eccentric scientist insisted, he missed simple companionship.
Going after him, she touched his arm. “Hey. I’m your friend.”
Corbin smiled back at her, his thumb stroking across her cheek. “That you are. And it is a gift. I used to have friends, you know, when I was mortal. Even as a young vampire. But then, everyone died. And I didn’t bother to make new ones.” Corbin dropped his hand. “But I am grateful for your friendship. I did not realize how much I missed that.”
I love you, she wanted to say, knowing that she did, that Corbin was different, her feelings for him unique and deep, but she clamped her lips shut. It would sound like she was trying to make him feel better, like it was a declaration brought about by pity, not true feelings. She wished they could still read each other’s thoughts so he would see the truth in her heart, her head, her words written across her consciousness. But for some reason, since the two-month separation they’d had, she hadn’t been able to hear him. Except for when they were having sex. And she didn’t think he heard her either, which bothered her.
“All work and no play isn’t good for anyone, not even a vampire. Don’t worry, I’m going to be dragging you out of the house a lot.” That should reassure him. She almost laughed at the look on his face.
“You are too kind,” he said dryly. Then he turned to a mahogany high chair. “This one?”
“Yes. It’s lovely.” And matched both of their distinct decors.
Damn, they got along so well. They were like poster children for mortal-vampire parents who weren’t married.
Brittany grinned when Corbin aggressively zapped with the scanner.
Everything was going to be so fine.
“What do you mean, your sister will be here in an hour?” Alexis looked around their apartment and tried not to panic. She was a crappy housekeeper. There were papers everywhere, bills piling up, a Wal-Mart bag full of toiletries on the breakfast bar, and various piles of laundry dotting the couch. “Brittany just asked if you could call Gwenna yesterday!”
“Actually, I invited her to visit several months ago, after you suggested that very thing. I thought you’d be pleased. This will give Brittany a chance to talk to her.”
Men. “A little warning would be nice! The apartment’s a wreck and so am I.”
Ethan looked baffled. “I don’t think Gwenna will care if we haven’t run the sweeper all week.”
There was no time to argue with him about female dynamics and making a good first impression. She went into action, scooping up the laundry piles and tossing them willy-nilly into the basket. “Pick up all that paperwork! Shove it in a drawer or something or at least stack it all in one pile.”
Running into the bedroom, Alexis tossed the basket in their closet and slammed the door shut. Damn it. Their bed wasn’t even made. She whipped the comforter over the whole mess of rumpled sheets and smoothed it flat. Tossing pillows on top, she ran back and grabbed the Wal-Mart bag, tossing her hair out of her eyes. She needed to jump in the shower.
Ethan was neatly and carefully arranging his paperwork with zero sense of urgency. She was about to use aggressive karate persuasion to encourage him along when the doorbell rang.
“Oh, shit.” That couldn’t be her.
“It’s her,” Ethan said, looking delighted. “I can sense her.”
Great. Now instead of just a messy house, she was all sweaty and wearing sweatpants with a messy house, when she officially met her sister-in-law. They hadn’t really talked at the wedding. Gwenna had popped in and out without ever saying hello. Alexis ditched the bag of shampoo and deodorant in a kitchen cabinet. Not that she needed deodorant these days, but habits died hard. She felt naked without it. Attempting to finger-brush her hair was futile, but she did it anyway and pasted a smile on her face.
Ethan opened the door and ushered his sister into the apartment, giving her a big hug. “Gwenna. Alex and I are so glad you came.”
Gwenna hugged him back, but it was reserved, impatient. Alexis thought she looked as pale and tragic as she did at their wedding, but there was something different about her, the way she stood up straighter. When she pulled back from Ethan, her wavy blond hair fell away from her face and revealed an expression of concern, fear.
“Is everything okay?” Alexis asked, suddenly worried herself.
Gwenna came to her, hands out. She clasped Alexis’s sturdy hands in her delicate ones, and looked up at her. She had pink lips, the color an almost feverish contrast to her fair skin. “Roberto is back. And he knows about the baby.”
“You are back earlier than we had agreed on.” Chechikov gave him a cool look over his glass of vodka.
Roberto Donatelli wasn’t intimidated. “I have personal interests to see to. And no one has to know that I’m here. I left my ankle band on my man Smith. I was shocked at how easy it was to remove. Law and order in the Nation has clearly suffered under Carrick’s rule.” He crossed one leg over the other, admiring Chechikov’s suite in the Bellagio. He was impressed with the understated elegance, furnishings done in soft blues and doeskin brown. “I imagine that someone could even get away with murder and it would go unpunished.”
“No doubt.” Chechikov tossed back his drink. “That is why I am here. That is why my name is going on the presidential ballot. It is time for me to restore the Nation to its former glory.”
Donatelli approved of the end, though he had hoped the means would be him, not Chechikov. But he had allowed himself to be outmaneuvered by Carrick and Fox and had left the presidential race. He had underestimated Fox’s feelings for the stripper Cara, and had almost found himself without a head. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. “You know I am at your disposal.”
Chechikov had been a reliable ally for two hundred years, and Donatelli had benefited from their arrangement, both financially and politically.
Now Gregor nodded to acknowledge Donatelli’s words. “And I appreciate your sharing the news about Atelier’s progeny.”
“Who is the mother?” Donatelli asked, curious. If Atelier was fucking around with a mortal, then he couldn’t be sleeping with Gwenna, as that little bitch Kelsey had implied. The thought of Gwenna in bed with that radical set his teeth on edge and made his anger flare. But if Atelier had an Impure plaything, he couldn’t be involved with Gwenna. Two women was not the Frenchman’s style.
“Ah, but that is interesting. Your little informant did not share the name with my wife, but it is of no matter because I have been doing a bit of investigating since I came to Las Vegas. It seems that Alexis Baldizzi-Carrick, first lady of the Nation, has a sister who is an Impure. Who is pregnant.”
“If it was that easy to find out about the sister, why did we pay Ringo Columbia?”
“It was a thank-you gesture, that is all. We would not have connected the dots without your informant.”
“But how do you know Brittany Baldizzi’s child is Atelier’s?”
“She was seen in the company of Atelier two nights ago attending classes at the hospital—childbirth classes. Very, very careless of him. I’m surprised he isn’t showing more discretion.”
That was surprising. Atelier wasn’t stupid, nor was he social. “Maybe the child isn’t his. Maybe he is playing up to Carrick for special favors.”
“By going to childbirth classes?” Gregor scoffed. “No, the baby is his.”
“That doesn’t explain his carelessness.”
“Perhaps he fancies himself in love with the girl.” Gregor smirked.
Donatelli didn’t return the grin. He knew all too well how idiotic a man could act when he allowed himself to feel emotion for a woman. That was why he was in town, risking his own neck, at that very moment. He had never been able to control his feelings toward Gwenna. Not since the first day he’d laid eyes on her nine hundred years before. She made him insane, with want, with greed, lust, anger. Love.
“Perhaps. And speaking of love, may I offer my congratulations on your marriage? Your wife must be absolutely charming to have coaxed you down the aisle, Gregor.” Roberto had caught a glimpse of long legs and flowing hair heading into the bedroom of the suite when he had entered, but he hadn’t seen her face.
Chechikov shrugged. “Sasha was something of a gift. And she’ll serve me well as we hit the campaign trail. A Master Vampire with a mortal wife—everyone will assume it is love.” His eyebrow went up in a way that made Donatelli’s skin crawl. “I’m a very romantic kind of man, you know, Donatelli. Did I ever tell you about my days serving the Prince of Kiev and how it was my duty to crush rebellions in the countryside?”
“No.” What the hell was the old lunatic talking about? Donatelli shifted in the plush club chair.
“I was known as the Black Bear, and men shook in fear when they saw me riding in with my warriors, as well they should have. We would kill them all, one by one, as a lesson for the next village, the next man who dared to defy the Prince, and after the men were all dead in the dirt, I took their filthy toothless women, one after the other, then let my men have them as well. If that isn’t romance, I don’t know what is.” He smiled, eyes unfocused, as if he was remembering with fondness his youthful exploits.
Donatelli kept his expression impassive, even as his stomach flipped over. He had never known quite how sick Chechikov was. And while Roberto had done what he had to to survive—had lied, manipulated, used violence and mind control, and subjugated others—he had never raped a woman. Never would. Every man had his moral boundaries, and that was Donatelli’s. Murder he could stomach if it was justified; humiliation, torture, sure. But rape crossed the line.
“Now you’ll have to settle for the presidency. Not nearly as exciting.”
“True. But the power is the same, and the power is what I enjoy.”
Didn’t they all.
Corbin was high on the power of the scanner and the growing rapport between himself and Brittany. They were comfortable with each other in a way that had been missing previously, and it was pleasant, fun to be with her, while they made decisions about innumerable baby products, and laughed together at the ludicrousness of black leather jackets for infants.
They had registered for approximately nine thousand baby products, which led Corbin to wonder how human beings even managed to sustain themselves as a race if that much effort and expense went into their first year of life. But he had to confess, after the initial stress of too many options, he had enjoyed picking products out, and had even found himself with a sudden inexplicable attachment to the stars and moon nursery theme, picking the pattern whenever it was an option. Brittany had teased him about it, but she hadn’t protested, and had let him register for the whole bedding set, draperies, and wallpaper border. He thought perhaps it was his need for his child to appreciate the night, his father’s world. Or maybe he just liked the yellow stars. He wasn’t sure. He just knew he was grateful to be a part of the minutiae regarding his child, knew that suddenly everything felt important and wonderful and hopeful.
It was all those complex, myriad, and amazing feelings coursing through him that prompted Corbin to say to Brittany in the car, “Spend the night with me.”
She glanced over at him, leaning against the passenger door. “I have to go to work tomorrow. It’s already really late.”
He noticed then that she had circles under her eyes from fatigue, and she was leaning out of pure sleepiness. Even more reason he didn’t want to take her home. It would make him feel better to watch over her, ensure she was safe. He had work to do, and needed to feed, but he liked the idea of placing her in his bed, hearing her breathe while he was in the next room.
Raising his eyebrows up and down, he shot a grin at her before refocusing on the road. “I do not have designs on your person, ma chйrie . I have already had that delight once tonight. But I am not ready to part from you. Does that make sense to you? I would just like you near me.”
It was the right thing to say. Her expression softened. “Oh. I do know what you mean. And I did buy that sleep shirt from the maternity store… ”
“Then it’s settled. We’re much closer to my apartment anyway.” Pausing at a red light, he asked her, “Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have any sense one way or the other.”
“I think it is a girl,” he said. There was no reason why he felt that way, he just did. And it was a new feeling to realize that for the first time in a long time, a great deal of his thoughts revolved around someone other than himself, and that he and Brittany shared a focus, shared the secret of their child. “What shall we name her?”
“God, I have no idea. There are a million choices.” She sighed, a good content sigh. “A girl would be nice. But so would a boy. I just want our baby to be healthy.”
“She will be.” Corbin couldn’t guarantee that, any more than the average father to be, but he didn’t want Brittany to worry. He didn’t want to worry. He only wanted to discover who Brittany’s father was and test his vaccine, which he was sure was ready. Action was better than sitting back waiting for disaster. “And I am fond of the name Renee.”
“That’s a nice name,” Brittany said in a voice that indicated she’d name their child Monkey before she’d choose Renee. “I was kind of thinking of the name Coco, though.”
Corbin was horrified. “That is a dog’s name. It is not dignified. And I thought you said you had no ideas, no preferences.”
“It worked for Coco Chanel.”
That did not make it any less of a poodle’s name. “What about Chantal? Marie?”
“Does it have to be French?”
That took him aback. Mais oui was his first reaction. But he supposed that was a bit inflexible. “It would please me, but it is not a requirement. It is a decision we should make together.”
“We have plenty of time. And we should pick a boy name, too, just in case you’re wrong.” She patted his leg. “It can happen, you know. You being wrong.”
Was she calling him arrogant? Corbin frowned. “Occasionally. But not very often.”
She laughed as they pulled into his apartment complex. Looking at the area in the dark, Corbin realized it was a bit shabby, not the safest neighborhood, lingering on the fringes of a crime-ridden neighborhood. But he had chosen it for its proximity to downtown and the casinos, and crime didn’t bother him. He’d yet to meet a mortal man, gun or no gun, who was a match for his vampiric strength and speed.
Yet it wasn’t the place to bring Brittany to at midnight. Nor should he be raising a child in this area, not when he had the means to move.
Parking the car, he turned to her, and took her hand. His expression must have been serious, because her laughter died. “What? What’s wrong?”
He caressed her fingers in his. “Marry me. Let’s buy a house and really start a life together.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Just a few hours ago we agreed to officially be dating… now you want to get married?”
“Yes.” When put that way, it sounded a little less than rational, but his conviction did not change. “And if you recall, I have always wanted to get married.”
“You’re insane. You’re more impulsive than me. And I swear, that’s why I like you so much.”
Corbin liked to think he was intuitive, not impulsive. He was a scientist. He did his work slowly and methodically, yes, but he also went with what modern slang called the gut instinct. It had served him in research, and he was certain it was right once again.
They had to get married.
“I don’t want to do something crazy… I need to think… ”
Knowing when to retreat, he kissed her forehead. “That you consider it is all I ask. We are good together.”
And they would stay together. He would do anything to ensure that.