chapter Twelve
"What are you thinking, Gwenna?" Nate asked her, his voice sharp, curious.
She couldn't tell him the truth in its entirety but neither could she bring herself to lie to him. And they were on the same side—they wanted to catch a killer. "I think the killer is on the vampire slayers' loop." She was whispering, aware of the couple ten feet away from her.
"Yeah, we figure that's pretty much a given, since that's the only connection between the two victims, and they were killed by the same method."
"I think that whoever is doing it is trying to make it look like a vampire killed them."
"Okay." Nate was rustling around and she heard a soft drink can being opened. "So we have a delusional serial killer."
He wasn't getting the bigger picture. "No, what we have is a killer who understands that killing members of a slayers' group in a way that makes it look like a vampire did it, will have those slayers ready to take action and retaliate. Which means to kill a vampire before—in their minds—another slayer is taken out."
She should have seen it before. It was a brilliant strategy. Some of the slayers had been pushing for action, for a large-scale attack on vampires. This kind of violence would only give credence to their claims that vampires were dangerous and the time to eliminate them was now.
Nate was silent for a second. Then he said, "You've got to be kidding me. These people on this loop… they don't really take this shit seriously, do they?"
Gwenna stared out at the Strip, at the faux landscape that was Vegas, everything meant to look like something else, everyone intent on forgetting reality. "Some don't. But some do. They take it very seriously."
"Why are you on that loop anyway? You just a Buffy fan or what?" he asked her.
"I like observing people," she told him.
She heard Nate swallow as he took a drink. "You don't really believe in vampires, do you?"
If he only knew she was standing at the Inaugural Ball for the president of the Vampire Nation, with approximately a thousand undead voters behind her in the room celebrating. That would test the boundaries of his black-and-white world.
"It doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is that someone either believes it himself or knows others do."
"Why do you think Slash has been contacting you and wanting to meet you where bodies are turning up? If there's something you can tell me, any thoughts at all, I really need to know it."
"I have no idea why Slash is suggesting these meeting places. And I actually contacted him privately first." She looked back, saw the party going on full swing, the dancing, the flutes of blood being passed around on silver trays, the laughter. Those who were vampire understood who she was, and why they needed to stay together, organized for their protection and prosperity. "No, there's nothing I need to tell you. I've told you everything."
Everything she could. And that made her suddenly sad. She had been sharing such intimacy with Nate, their bodies, his grief, her frustration with Roberto. Yet it was cursory, elusive… Nate was mortal, and she would live forever. He would never believe what she was, and she didn't want to try to convince him. She didn't want to see the look in his eyes, the admiration and attraction for her, disappear.
He would either think she was a complete lunatic or he would actually believe her, and that would be even worse. Mortals had all manner of bizarre reaction to vampires, including a fiery moral obligation to kill them, intense fear, or the desire to share their immortal gift. Gwenna didn't want to see any of those from Nate. She wanted her relationship with him to stay as it was, a quiet growing friendship and a steamy physical attraction.
"We need to get a court order to trace Slash's e-mail back to his true identity through his e-mail provider if we can't find it any other way. It could take weeks until we know who he really is."
"Maybe I can make plans to meet him again."
"No, it's dangerous as hell."
"I could meet him with you backing me up." Though she wasn't afraid, not of being killed. It would take a cunning and incredibly strong mortal to overpower her enough to take off her head.
"Except that every time you try to meet him he stands you up. I think he's playing you, Gwenna. And I don't like it."
Well, she wasn't too fond of it either. "It's worth a go."
"No."
"Yes." Damn it, on television the police were always sending in civilians to act as sitting ducks. Why didn't he see the brilliance of this ? And she suddenly realized that she was digging in, feeling stubborn and contrary, because Nate was assuming control, giving her orders, like Roberto. Like Ethan.
But he just sighed. "Can we not argue about this, please? I really need to get some sleep… why don't we talk about it tomorrow? "
Ouch. So maybe she was leaping to conclusions. He wasn't her brother or her ex, and he'd been having a couple of really brutal days. She didn't need to contribute to his stress.
"Sure. Of course. You get a good night's sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
He sighed. "Yeah. Thanks, Gwenna. Goodnight."
"Good night, Nate." Gwenna hung up and stared at the phone in her hand, her heart swelling with something that she was fairly certain she shouldn't allow.
Bloody hell, she was falling in love with him.
And Lord knew, she was absolutely old enough to know better, but it didn't seem to matter. She wanted to go to him, comfort him, hold him, make him a sandwich—which was laughable since she hadn't touched a cold cut in a solid nine hundred years—and love him.
Stuffing the phone back into her clutch, she turned to the door of the penthouse.
She needed a drink.
Nate had a whole new respect—and gratitude—for Gwenna Carrick. They'd known each other all of what, three days, and yet she had totally come through for him. She'd spent the entire day by his side on Sunday. The funeral mass, the cemetery internment, the reception afterward—she had been right there, with him. A silent, steady support.
He wasn't sure he could ever explain to her how much that meant to him, how much he appreciated the sacrifice of her time to attend something so uncomfortable and sad, for someone she had never met, or how grateful he was for the buffer she created between himself and his mother. Having Gwenna with him allowed him to stand straight and concentrate on giving his baby sister a final and fitting tribute to the loving and beautiful person she had been.
Now he was exhausted and mentally drained, but he'd made it through and he would be alright. The worst was done and he could regroup, grieve, heal. But first he wanted to figure out how to say thanks to Gwenna.
They were sitting in his truck at the funeral home after the reception since she'd left her car at his place. It always struck him as odd to see Gwenna driving the massive Lexus SUV, but she had told him it was her brother's car. At the moment she was obviously waiting for him to drive or say something, but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth.
Gripping the steering wheel, he tried to figure out how to explain to her what he was feeling. That he was grateful, appreciated her presence, her comfort. And that he dug her. That he was completely, totally falling for her. But he was afraid it was onesided or that she'd tell him it was just some kind of stress-induced attraction. That under normal circumstances neither one of them would have ever glanced at the other.
Maybe that was true, but hell, did it matter?
He turned to her. She smiled at him and touched his knee.
Instead of saying what he really wanted to, he said, "You didn't eat anything at the reception, did you?"
She frowned a little. "I had a sandwich."
"I didn't see you." It was nearly four in the afternoon and he would swear he hadn't seen her eat one bite. Her poor eating habits might explain why she always looked so pale, so thin. Not that he thought she looked unhealthy, because she didn't. Her skin was smooth and shiny, cheeks pink, body curved in all the right places. But he never saw her eat and it was starting to bother the detective in him. "Let's go back in and get you something. Or we could stop and pick something up on the way back to my place if there wasn't anything you wanted at the lunch."
"Nate, I ate. I did. Trust me, I'm fine."
Her eyes didn't meet his. A bad, bad sign. He wondered if she could have an eating disorder or something. He was no shrink, but it seemed like Gwenna would be the kind to stuff her feelings down deep and deal with them in a way that would make no sense to him. The daughter, the ex-husband, the lack of a career to distract her—she had plenty of reasons to be stressed and out of whack.
"What happened to your daughter?" he asked, with about zip for tact. But he was tired and he was suddenly really friggin' worried about her.
Her eyes went wide. "Isabel? She died." Then she looked out the passenger window and bit her lip.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up… I was just wondering how. I know today must have brought up bad memories for you, with a funeral and all."
"It's been a long time since my daughter died," she said, her voice low, sad, her shoulders tense.
Considering she looked about a minute out of high school, Nate couldn't believe it was that long ago, but it was clear she didn't really want to talk about it. "I don't guess you ever recover from a loss like that."
"No." Her head swung around and she looked at him. "You don't."
"Was she sick?" Nate figured he should shut the hell up, but his mouth seemed determined to do its own thing.
"No. She was very healthy actually. It was just an accident. A horrible, unexpected accident. It was at our castle in England… she fell on a sword."
"A sword ? Jesus." Nate covered her hand on his knee with his and gripped her tightly. "Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." And he felt guilty as hell that he had. A sword. God, he wanted to throw up at that image.
But she gave him a brief smile. "It's alright, Nate. I'm actually okay, for the most part. I did have what amounted to a breakdown after, and that pain, that grief has changed me permanently, but the thing is, I'm still here, sane. Functional. I've been through the worst that could ever happen, and finally, I feel like I've regained myself as a woman. I can actually look to the future with something like pleasure for the first time in what feels like literally forever."
"Good." He squeezed her hand harder. "I'm glad to hear it." Which wasn't exactly profound or poetic, but hell. It was what he felt.
"So are we going to call it a day and meet back up tonight? Or would you like to go with me to pop by my friend Brittany's house? She and the baby are home from the hospital and I wanted to pay her a visit and see if she needs anything."
Go back to his place alone or hang out with Gwenna? No contest. "Sure. I'd love to go with you. Just tell me where to drive."
Gwenna really needed some kind of pill to cure her of poor decision-making skills. Or maybe it was more that she suffered from appallingly bad luck.
Either way, it was horribly ironic that she would show up at Brittany and Corbin's to see baby Ava at the same time Roberto was comfortably ensconced in their sitting room and having a chat.
Brittany had warned her at the door, with a whispered "Donatelli's here," and a curious glance in Nate's direction.
But when Gwenna had suggested they come back later, Brittany had waved her hand in dismissal of the idea, and Nate had said, "Your ex-husband's here? I would love to meet him." He stuck his hand out and shook Brittany's with a firm "I'm Nate Thomas. It's a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your baby. Gwenna says she's beautiful."
"Oh, thanks so much. I'm Brittany Atelier. Come on in." She smiled at Nate and gestured for them to come in. "Where have you two been? You're all dressed up."
"A funeral," Nate said quickly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Brittany glanced between them. "Well, we're glad you could stop by. Sorry it's not the greatest timing. I didn't know…" She jerked her head toward the interior of the house. "You know how he is. Like a freight train rolling through."
"Trust me, I know," Gwenna said wryly, hoping like hell that Brittany would catch on that Nate was mortal. But given that Brittany was the child of Roberto and a mortal mother, she had particularly good instincts when it came to telling mortals from vamps.
Gwenna just didn't want her to say anything she shouldn't in front of Nate. It occurred to her as she anxiously followed Brittany into the house that she really should have called ahead. This was a lousy spontaneous plan. But she had been avoiding letting Nate go home by himself, and the other reasonable option—grabbing a bite to eat—was out of the question given that she wouldn't eat and he already appeared to suspect her of anorexia.
But now she was walking into God only knew what sort of confrontation.
"Maybe we really should stop by another time."
"We're already here," Nate said, looking down at her, his eyes flashing. He was ready for a fight with Roberto, she could see it.
In theory, the idea of two men squabbling over her was sexy. In reality, it was a bit embarrassing.
Especially when Roberto wasted no time in being rude. As the round of introductions were made, he casually looked Nate over and said, "So you're Gwenna's latest boy toy. What are you… cop, fireman, construction worker? She's been in a workingman phase recently."
He couldn't have shocked her more if he'd stood up, dropped his drawers, and did a naked tap dance. "Roberto!" What was almost as amazing as his words was that she could still be surprised by anything he did. If he wanted to embarrass her, or destroy any relationship she might have with Nate, he was determined to do it. And Roberto was an intelligent strategist. Instead of playing the irrational jealous ex-husband—which he was—he had simply painted her a tart. The complete and total bastard.
But Nate didn't look particularly shocked or disgusted. He wasn't recoiling from her or demanding she find her own ride back to his house. He just met Roberto's look dead on and said, "I'm a cop, and yes, I'm her latest boy toy. You must be the asshole ex-husband she complains about. The one who has nothing better to do than be pathetic and call his ex-wife seventeen times a day."
Yikes. Roberto's face turned the color of an eggplant. And he had a tick in his left eye that spelled serious trouble. Gwenna reached out for Nate's arm. They needed to leave.
"Well, now that we're all clear on who's who…" Brittany smiled cheerfully at each of them, obviously determined to brazen through the awkwardness. "Who wants to hold the baby?"
Corbin, Brittany's husband, looked irritated with all of them, and unwilling to part with his daughter. But he didn't protest when Nate said, "I would love to hold the baby."
Passing Ava over with multiple warnings about her floppy head, soft spot, and umbilical cord stump, Corbin watched Nate suspiciously as he adjusted Ava into a cradle position. But Nate looked like he knew what he was doing, and he was comfortable holding her. He ran his finger over her lip and smiled down at her.
Gwenna was unprepared for the kick in the heart that gave her. Not to mention the unexpected rush of heat in her inner thighs, which was just wrong. She should not be feeling any sort of desire for Nate Thomas with her ex-husband and an innocent baby present. Nate made a funny face at Ava and said, "You're so pretty, yes you are. You're just gorgeous," in a singsong voice.
And there it was again. Lust. The man solved murders, cared about women and children, wanted to beat up her ex, and was good in the sack. Damn it, she was in trouble.
Brittany was watching Nate in pleased amusement, Corbin was relaxing, and Roberto looked like he'd swallowed a hard-boiled egg. Nate seemed intentionally oblivious to Roberto, and quite enamored of little Ava. Gwenna found herself quite enamored of Nate, and wishing a meteor would hit Roberto. The latter wasn't a new feeling. The other thing, about Nate, was so fresh, so unexpected, so outside of her normal dull existence, she wasn't at all sure how to deal with it.
Because the absolute only thing wrong with Nate, that she could see, was that he was mortal. Which was more than a bit of a problem, it was a catastrophe, and one she needed to remind herself of repeatedly, particularly after sex when she was inclined to think that it wouldn't be a bad idea to spend a decade or two naked with Nate.
Roberto stood up. "A word in private, Gwenna."
That ought to be a good time. "Sure," Normally, she would put him off, but she didn't want any confrontations with her ex and Nate, nor did she want Roberto doing something like wiping Nate's memories out, which he was perfectly capable of doing. And think what a bloody shame it would be if Nate didn't remember their massage table encounter. Besides, if she tried, she could usually hear Roberto's thoughts, and at the moment he was actually more hurt than angry that she was with another man. It had nicked his heart, given the morose thoughts he was having, which almost made her feel indulgent toward him.
She didn't suppose she would have appreciated seeing Roberto with another woman either. Oh, wait. She had. A dozen times or more while they were still married.
Sympathy disappeared. As did her patience and her politeness. "You know what, actually, I've changed my mind, Roberto. I'm not in the mood to talk to you. And Nate and I have plans and we really need to get going. So unless you have something earth-shattering and vital to either of our existences, you can wait. In fact, why don't you send me an e-mail? That would be best all round for everyone."
She turned and gave Brittany a kiss on the cheek. "I'll stop by at a better time."
"Okay. Good to see you." Brittany reached to take Ava from Nate.
Corbin touched Gwenna's sleeve. "Your brother stopped by last night after the… event. Perhaps you should speak to him about ze future."
Gwenna stared at Corbin. What the hell did that mean? "Alright, then. If you think there's something to be discussed."
"Yes, I do." He was giving her all kinds of meaningful looks, so she tuned in to his internal thoughts, knowing he was giving her permission.
Chechikov is mortal now, and in hiding, you know zis, yes? Well, beware of his wife. There is something I do not like about her, and Ethan said she was at the ball last night with Ringo. That makes me suspicious of her.
"Okay." It occurred to Gwenna that maybe Corbin would be a good person to discuss the slayers' loop murders with. He knew all the parties involved, and he would focus in on the important facts, not harass her with safety tips. "Let's talk later." She was forced to say it out loud since Corbin was no longer vampire and couldn't hear her thoughts in return. He had used a vaccine he had created on himself, returning to a mortal state, and he had done the same to Chechikov as punishment for kidnapping Brittany.
Corbin nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."
"I heard that, by the way," Roberto said. "If you let in one, you let in all of us. But in this case, I agree with Atelier. I'm suspicious, too. Though I don't think it's any concern of Gwenna's."
Wonderful. Leave it to Roberto to get the last word in.
"Heard what?" Nate asked. "What are you talking about?"
Roberto raised an eyebrow. "Mind your own fucking business."
"Hey!" Brittany shot him a dirty look, and turned her daughter away from Donatelli. "Watch your mouth in front of the baby."
"She's an infant," Roberto protested.
"Precisely," Brittany snapped at him. "We had a deal. I said you could visit Ava if you were on your best behavior and didn't do anything to corrupt her."
Roberto looked so confused Gwenna felt the urge to laugh. In his world of wheeling, dealing, drugs, and stealing, using off-color language was hardly the worst offense he could make.
"Using a swear word in front of a three-day-old baby is going to corrupt her? I find it hard to believe your mother didn't swear in front of you and you turned out just fine."
"Leave my mother out of this." Brittany's cheeks turned pink.
"Donatelli, watch what you say to my wife." Corbin was off the couch and over to Brittany.
"What? I just said—"
Gwenna interrupted him, enjoying that particular novelty. "Roberto, why don't you head out with Nate and I? I think we're all finished being a dysfunctional family for the moment, and I suspect Brittany could use a rest."
"You go ahead," Roberto said. "I want to speak to my daughter."
Brittany rolled her eyes.
Gwenna sighed. He just couldn't keep quiet. Now she was going to have to lie to Nate yet again. Better to do it in private, though. So she just waved to Brittany and Corbin and took Nate's hand—sure to inspire murderous thoughts in Roberto's mind—and went out the front door.
"Daughter? Who the hell is his daughter?" Nate glanced back at the house as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.
Gwenna jumped in the passenger side as soon as he clicked the door unlocked. She decided to go with the truth, as close there to it as she could. "Brittany's his daughter. Ava is his granddaughter."
"What? How is that possible? He can't be any more than forty. Which makes him too young to be Brittany's father, and too old to be your ex-husband."
There was possibly truth to that. Roberto was fourteen years older than her, and he hadn't aged well. He looked a decade older than his mortal age at death. He had been the adult when she had met him, in his thirties, and he had taken advantage of her naivety. No question about it.
"He's a bit older than forty." A lot older. "And he had a misguided youth. Brittany's mother was an exotic dancer he had no business having an affair with at his age." Let Nate interpret that however he chose. "But he did, and there you have it. Brittany is the result. It's only been a few months since DNA testing proved his paternity. Neither of them knew he was her father."
"Wow. That's a little awkward, huh?"
"Very awkward. But Brittany is a generous person and she's willing to give him a chance to be in her life. Hopefully for both their sakes, he won't screw it up." She clicked her seat belt. "I'm sorry about that. I had no idea he would be there."
"Not your fault. And hell, he doesn't bother me. Just another prick who thinks he's right—I deal with them every day." Nate put his hands on the steering wheel, the car already running. "So where are we going now?"
Gwenna ran her hand through her hair, flipping it back over her shoulder. She was anxious, restless, irritated, and not sure why. Maybe it was the obvious—that she needed to let go of Nate. It was very selfish on her part to drag him into vampire politics and the personal squabblings of their inner circle. She felt guilty that she was lying to him repeatedly, giving him only bits and pieces of information. Granted, it wasn't like it was possible to be totally honest with him, but it was still troublesome.
A small part of her also realized that Nate was still a man. And she was supposed to be entering a new, totally independent phase of her life, and how much could she really do that if she was involved with a man like Nate, who was confident and protective, saw the world entirely in black and white, and was maybe even just a bit controlling?
Those things were all true, and Gwenna knew that she couldn't continue to see Nate. It wasn't practical. Smart. Or good for her mental health.
Yet they still had now. Today. She wanted that. Wanted him.
"Let's go to the casino," she said. "I feel like gambling."
Nate gave her a funny look. "You don't have plans to meet Slash, do you? You know how I feel about that."
That had never occurred to her. She had just been envisioning metaphorically tossing her inhibitions down the craps table along with the dice. "No. If I did, I would tell you." Probably. "Though I still think it's a good idea. Otherwise, we might have to wait weeks while you try to figure out who he is. I've been searching for any sort of link to his real identity, and it just isn't there. He's totally covered his tracks."
"I appreciate you wanting to help, but let me and the department handle this, Gwenna."
That attitude struck her as patronizing, even as she realized that Nate had no way of knowing she was a vampire, and not in the danger a regular mortal woman would be. But she just didn't understand his unwillingness to accept help. "But what if someone else is killed in the meantime?"
He didn't have an answer for that obviously. Nate made a sound of exasperation. "What do you want me to do? Send you out there to get killed? I don't think so." He reached out and touched her cheek, softly sliding his finger across her skin. "Is it crazy to say that I care about you? That I want to keep seeing you."
Gwenna closed her eyes for a brief second to gather her emotions. She wasn't prepared for Nate's lips to brush over hers while she did.
"I really like you," he said in a low voice that did all manner of shivery things to her insides.
She opened her eyes in time to see his expression, dark and sensual and entrancing, as he bent over her, kissing both corners of her mouth.
"I want to be with you."
Now was the time to tell him they had no future, that it was fun while it lasted, but the reality was such that they could never be together. It was the absolute perfect opportunity to settle the issue, to put the brakes on any sort of relationship. Easy enough. She just had to say it.
"I want to be with you, too." That wasn't saying it. Damn it. Why the hell had the truth come out of her mouth? Here she was lying right, left, and sideways, and when she actually needed to lie, she blurted out the bloody truth?
And now Nate's tongue was in her mouth, so there was no way to correct or retract her statement. She was too busy snogging.
He broke away, breathing hard, hand buried in her hair. "The casino to gamble or straight up to your place so I can fuck you?"
Oh, my. Gwenna wished a gearshift wasn't between them and that they weren't still sitting in Brittany and Corbin's suburban driveway. Why wait, really? But there was something to be said for anticipation. "How about we get drunk, lose a pile of money, then go up to my place so you can fuck me?"
Gwenna was so proud of herself. She'd said the f word again, and this time in a sexual context. It felt sassy and raunchy, and she was rather fond of it.
Nate clearly was, too. His eyes went dark and he groaned, glancing down at her chest, his finger wandering between her thighs. "Jesus, you're killing me."
Gwenna was spreading her legs a little so he could slip under her skirt, when a knock on the window sent her jumping three feet in the air.
"Christ." Nate pulled back and made a sour face at whoever was behind her shoulder. "What the hell does he want?"
Oh, no. Gwenna turned and saw Roberto a mere twelve inches away from her on the other side of the window. Not good.
He looked like he could eat glass and like it.
And somehow she couldn't force herself to speak.
But Roberto wasn't at a loss for words. "Can you move your slutty little make-out session elsewhere? My car is in front of you in the driveway and you're blocking me."
"Oh. Sorry." Her cheeks were burning. She had no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed, but she felt very exposed.
Nate didn't bother to say anything. He just put the truck into reverse and pulled back, leaving Roberto standing in the driveway glaring at them.
"What does your ex-husband do for a living?"
"Real estate development is what he officially calls it. You would call it the Mafia, I imagine."
Nate stomped on the brake harder than was necessary at a stop sign. "Your ex is mob ?"
"Of course he is." Gwenna was irritated that yet again, in the middle of a moment she was quite enjoying, Roberto had inserted himself. And now they were still talking about him. "Didn't I tell you that?"
"No, I don't think you mentioned that little fact."
"Does it matter?"
"Maybe. I don't know. And you married him? How old were you?"
"I was eighteen when I met him. He was very charming." Lots of sweet words and grandiose promises. And to be fair, he'd kept most of those promises. He just could never separate right from wrong with any sort of finality. Roberto had very wide moral boundaries.
"He looks like a snake oil salesman."
"Yes, well, I was an idiot. What can I say?"
"I didn't say you were an idiot. You were young, he was charming. We all make mistakes."
"Can we not talk about him anymore, please? I am so utterly sick of everything I do being affected by Roberto. He has no business being here in this truck between us right now." She wasn't sure why she was so thoroughly hot under the collar, but she was. Why couldn't she even have an affair unencumbered? Everyone else did. Every mortal and vampire on the entire goddamn planet was entitled to a little fun, a frivolous sexual fling just because it felt good. Not her. She had to have her ex-husband sitting on her lap while she tried to get naughty.
Nate glanced over at her. "You're right. Sorry." He gave a laugh. "Do you know when I first met you I thought you were a ditzy blonde?"
Gwenna felt her eyebrow shoot straight up to her hairline. What exactly about that statement was causing him amusement? "Is that to say you no longer think I'm a ditzy blonde? Thank you, I think." She didn't feel warm and fuzzy at the backhanded compliment.
"But now I think you're one of the most amazing, intelligent, compassionate, beautiful women I've ever met."
Much better.
"And I feel like you walked into my life at the right time, for a reason."
He was facing the road, so she couldn't see his eyes, but his voice was firm, confident. "And I'm not such a * that your obnoxious ex-husband with mob connections is going to scare me away."
"No?"
"No. So we're going to see where this thing between us goes."
Well, since he had decided… It would be rude to tell him no. But there was that niggling little part of her that kept insisting there had to be a way to tell Nate the truth. That maybe he was open-minded enough to accept her vampirism. Because she really and truly wanted to see where a relationship between them could go as well.
"That sounds like a plan, Nate."
She had one, too. When they got to the Ava, she was going to take him upstairs and show him that she was a girl with bite. Literally.