Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)

“That and the need to protect you are the only reason I am not already headed for the airport.”

“I see,” Mary murmured, and found she was surprisingly concerned about this bait business. Not for herself, but for Dante. She’d thought that worry was over when the van had dropped back then driven past them, but this put a new light on things. They may have simply been preparing an ambush as he’d suggested which made her very glad she’d turned off the highway when she had. They should be safe enough here. It wasn’t like this was the only campground in the area. So if they had set up an ambush and then realized they’d turned off when they didn’t appear, his kidnappers would spend the night driving around in search of them. Even if they came to search here they’d run into difficulties. The campground gate had been open when they’d arrived because she’d been expected, but she was quite sure Dave would have closed the gate on his return to the office if all the booked people had arrived.

Sighing, Mary glanced to Dante and then followed his gaze to where he still held her hand. Swallowing, she watched his thumb slide gently across the top of her fingers in a gentle caress and was startled at the heat the light touch raised in her. And then she noticed that her fingers looked like her mother’s did in her memory: old and lined compared to his smooth, youthful skin.

When had that happened? she wondered, and then tugged her hand away and stood abruptly. Heading for the bedroom door, she announced, “I brought you more clothes. They should fit better than what you’re wearing. If you don’t like them, the back bedroom closet is full of Joe’s clothes and you’re welcome to try them.”

“Mary,” Dante said as she paused inside the bedroom and turned to shut the door.

She stopped with the door half open and risked glancing at him in question. The damned man should not have been attractive in the ridiculous clothes he was wearing, but he was. Like a diamond in an ugly setting, he sparkled and shone despite the feminine apparel.

“I will keep you safe,” he vowed.

Her eyes widened slightly and she didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t really considered herself in any danger. Her concern had all been for him.

“In the meantime, we need to talk,” he added. “There are things I need to tell you.”

Mary hesitated. She did have some questions she’d like to ask him. Questions like, what else could he do besides read and control minds? And had he controlled her at all? She didn’t think so. At least, she didn’t feel like she’d done anything she hadn’t chosen herself to do. Even if she’d been compelled by guilt or pity at the time, she was quite sure every step of the way had been her choice.

Narrowing her eyes on him, she asked, “Have you controlled me at all since meeting me?”

“No,” Dante assured her solemnly. “I was unable to.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean you tried to control me?”

He nodded. “But I could not. That is why we need to talk.

Mary stared at him, unsure whether she believed him or not, and too tired to care. It had been a very long day for her, full of various stressors, and she was obviously exhausted or she wouldn’t be reacting to him the way she was. She needed sleep and some time to herself.

“Right now, I’m fighting to keep my eyes open,” she said finally. “We can talk in the morning.”

Dante looked as if he were about to protest, but then suddenly relented and even smiled a little as he nodded. “Very well. Sweet dreams.”

Something about the tone of his voice and his smile made Mary hesitate and narrow her eyes. But when Dante turned toward the couch-bed and began to strip off her much too small T-shirt, she quickly closed the door between the rooms and then locked it. The clicking noise it made as she did so had her wincing with displeasure. While Mary had wanted it locked, she hadn’t really wanted him to know she was locking it. After all, it suggested she suspected he might come creeping in the middle of the night, and how egotistical was that?

Shaking her head, Mary quickly unlocked it again. She then shrugged out of her robe, laid it across the foot of the bed, and crawled under the covers. The moment she’d situated herself on her side facing the wall, Bailey scooted up behind her to curl against her, back to back. Mary smiled faintly at the familiar heat of the dog’s body along her spine. Joe used to insist the dogs they’d had over the years sleep on the floor, but Mary wasn’t Joe, and Bailey had been sleeping on the bed since his passing. She liked it that way. At least she did when Bailey wasn’t hogging the whole bed, she thought with amusement. Many was the morning she’d woken up to find herself curled up on a corner of the bed, feet hanging off the side while Bailey lay spread out next to her. Bailey liked the bed much better than the floor.

Shaking her head at the thought, Mary reached back to give the dog an affectionate pat, then closed her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.





Seven