Dante hesitated, but then turned back. “It will not make you uncomfortable if I feed in front of you?”
“I don’t think so,” she said honestly. “Actually, I’m kind of curious to see—” Mary stopped abruptly as he opened his mouth and his canines suddenly shifted and slid down like the tips of staples descending out of a stapler, and then he slapped one of the bags to them. That was the only way to describe it. He just slapped it on them like poking a straw into a fast-food drink glass. Mary watched silently as the bag began to shrink, crumpling inward as the blood inside dwindled. It was all rather fast, certainly quicker than she’d expected, and then he tugged the now empty bag off of his fangs and slapped another one on.
Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Mary turned away then and began to check that all the drawers and cupboards were securely closed so that they wouldn’t swing open with every turn the RV took. They might still come crashing open if the RV stopped too abruptly as they had when she’d run over Dante, but otherwise should remain secure.
“Mary.”
She turned to see that he’d finished the third bag. She opened the door under the sink and he slipped them into the garbage, then straightened and waited as she closed the door again, before taking her arms.
“I wanted . . .”
“I know,” she murmured, ducking her head. Mary certainly hadn’t forgotten what he’d said he’d do to her on his return. Clearing her throat, she lifted her head and said, “But if the men poking around the campground gates last night were your kidnappers, they will probably still be around somewhere, and if we let them find and follow us, your friends can catch them and find out where Tomasso is.”
“Yes,” Dante breathed, obviously relieved at her understanding. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then hugged her tight. “I am the most fortunate man to have you for a mate.”
Mary swallowed, and allowed herself to hug him back briefly, but then pulled away. “Are you driving or shall I?”
“Perhaps I should,” he offered. “I know you did not sleep well last night.”
“Neither did you,” she pointed out with amusement and he nodded in acknowledgment.
“But for my people, an extra bag of blood makes up for that,” he said with a shrug. “I’m as good now as if I had a full night’s sleep.”
“Nice trick,” Mary said dryly and took the cooler off the table to secure it in the cupboard over the couch. She placed the box with his clothes in there as well when he handed it to her, then slipped past him to move to the front of the RV and take the passenger seat.
Bailey immediately followed her, squeezing past her to curl up in the space in front of her legs under the dashboard. It was much more room than you would find in a car, but it was still a bit tight for a dog Bailey’s size. Still, she was happy enough there, so Mary left her to it and did up her seat belt as Dante slipped into the driver’s seat.
She watched silently as he adjusted his seat and the mirrors, but her mind was all over the place. Part of her was disappointed that they had to leave without doing what he’d said he was going to. But the other part of her brain was straight-up relieved. While she knew he would have shown her great pleasure, and hopefully this time with the actual happy ending, the images that his words had sent floating around inside her head hadn’t been pretty ones. Oh, he had been pretty enough in them, but Mary had no delusions about herself. He might be older than her, but she looked older than him . . . and with an older woman’s body. And he could say he liked it all he wanted, but it wouldn’t change the fact that she didn’t like it. At least, she didn’t like it next to his young, fit-looking body.
Sighing, she turned her gaze out the window as Dante shifted into gear and steered the RV out of their pull-thru parking spot.
“Should I stop at the office so you can let them know we are leaving?” Dante asked, as they approached the main building.
“No,” Mary murmured, glancing to the building. “They have my credit-card number. I’ll just call them later to let them know something came up.”
Dante nodded, and steered past the building to approach the gate and Mary turned her face away from the offices, knowing she’d probably e-mail rather than call. She also would never come back here, whether Carol and Dave sold the campground or not. She liked Carol and still considered her a friend, but she’d learned too much to want to ever spend time around Dave again. He was, as Dante had said, a dog. Just as her Joe had been, she acknowledged. But Joe had changed, or she’d thought he had, while Dave obviously hadn’t. She didn’t think she could bear being around the man, always worrying he’d make that pass at her Dante had said he’d planned, and she didn’t think that if he did, she could keep herself from telling Carol. She just didn’t want to be in the middle of that. She’d dealt with her own husband long ago, and thought they’d sorted everything out, but Carol had never confronted Dave that she knew of.