Shades of Red Page 3

  Dinner went along as usual. Elaine had put a casserole of some kind in the oven. Flor, the kids, Owen, and I sat at the large wooden kitchen table. Flor didn’t usually join us for dinner; she lived outside of Durango and would go home every night.

  I must have worn the kids out. They were usually boisterous, but tonight the dining room was quiet.

  Every once in a while, Becca and Flor babbled in Spanish, while Jack flipped the pages of a children’s catalog, mesmerized. When the family and Flor began a lively conversation, I looked up from toying with my food and watched.

  You would think that I’d have started to understand more Spanish by now. While I was pondering this, I realized Owen was looking at me intensely. I knew what that look meant.

  He wasn’t just looking at me; he was really looking at me.

  To be honest, I thought that our whole connection had been in my mind. My enthralling employer wasn't interested in me in that way, right? I kept telling myself that it was a good thing he wasn’t interested. I should hope for that, right? Okay, so not hope, but it would’ve been the moral thing.

  The safe thing.

  But deep down, I knew he desired me as much as I craved him.

  When I looked back up from my plate, I noticed Flor had been watching us, wearing that Mona Lisa smile on her lips. They exchanged words, and I bit the side of my mouth, wondering what they were saying.

  If only I knew Spanish! After another coy smile, the housekeeper said something to Owen, and he coughed on his glass of water before speaking rapidly back to her.

  I watched them intently, my head turning with each exchange as if at a ping-pong game, trying to decipher the code.

  Flor's dialog was laughing and teasing. Owen's tone seemed uptight and embarrassed. He was mildly flushed but kept his expression reasonably neutral. His pitch was slightly higher than usual. He ran his hands through his disheveled dark hair, which I had come to realize was a nervous habit of his.

  After it was clear that they were talking about me, I looked away and sipped my water, pretending not to notice. Unfortunately, I have pale English skin, and I felt my own blush prickle its way up my neck and over my cheeks.

  If I thought things would be simple with Owen Bennett, I wouldn’t hesitate to get involved with him. However, I knew a relationship of any kind would be anything but simple.

  I was already falling for the man. My skin seemed to heat when I was around him. I felt like a fool and seemed unable to think. His charming presence seemed to wash away every logical thought in my head.

  Oh, but the way he had looked at me, I wished we were alone.

  I straightened my spine and sniffed. I wasn’t going to indulge in some primal urge just because I found someone attractive. I needed to resolve to keep my distance.

  But, how could I stay logical and cold, when all I wanted to do was touch him? My desire for him, was this what compulsion was like? My need to be near him, to feel him, to breathe in his scent.

  I wish it stopped there, but it didn’t. I wanted Owen to kiss me and hold me. I wanted to taste his skin, drink his blood, like I'd never wanted before. The thought of his hands on me ignited flames inside I'd never felt before.

  It was too dangerous, and I was a fool to think about my employer in such a way.

  Chapter Four

  I couldn't sleep. It was about midnight, and I’d decided to wander the large house and check out some of the unused rooms. I was on the main floor when I saw light coming through an open door. I hadn’t been down that hallway before, and my curiosity got the better of me.

  I could hear Owen's heartbeat, slow and steady, coming from the room, but instead of turning around, I peeked through the crack. It was an extensive study, the walls almost entirely covered in tall bookshelves. A rolling ladder sat beside a desk, but I didn't see my employer.

  I knocked lightly on the frame of the door, and it opened a couple of inches. Owen sat on a large brown leather couch, laptop on his knees.

  Face aglow from the screen, he looked up, saying nothing. I thought I’d interrupted him, but when I stepped away from the door, he stopped me with a word, “Stay.”

  He’d closed his computer and motioned for me to sit with him.

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” I told him.

  His face relaxed, and he rolled his shoulders. "No, I needed a break. I'm glad you're up."

  Electronic music played from a Bluetooth speaker on the desk. “Wow,” I said, “is that Daft Punk? It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that.” I listened to the rhythmic beat of the music, giving him a sideways teasing smile.

  His chest shook, and his eyes crinkled. “Maybe my age is showing with that one.”

  “Psh! It came out when you were like what? Ten years old?” My smile faded as a treacherous thought took hold in me.

  Was Owen a vampire?

  "No way, that's classic! Like Deadmau5." With one eyebrow raised, he made me laugh out loud.

  “What else do you do, other than listen to that old timer’s music?”

  He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Um, I run, but you know that.”

  “That’s not really for fun though, or is it?”

  He shook his head. "Okay, you've got me there. I don't know. I like science fiction."

  “To read or watch?”

  "Both, I’m kind of a Trekkie. What about you? What do you like to do? Other than padding your resume."

  “Ohh… wow.” I bit my tongue and tried not to smile. “Okay, fair enough. Um, I like sci-fi also, and I love watching TV." I shrugged. "I'll admit it. I can’t cook to save my life, but I sew and play the piano. "

  "Well, it's a good thing we have Elaine because the only thing I can make is a sandwich. What else?" His expression was playful. “I feel like you’ve got hidden depths.”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “I don’t know about that. I love history and science, but I’m squeamish.” This got a laugh out of him.

  "Nothing bothers me like that. Bring it on, blood, guts… yeah, I love it."

  “So,” I asked, “were you the type of kid to catch animals and kill them?”

  He pursed his lips and squinted his eyes in humor. "This feels like a trick question. I hunted with my dad and brothers and field dressed whatever we shot. We ate the meat. So, I guess technically, yes.”

  "I've never even touched a gun," I told him.

  “I have some hunting rifles if you’d like to see one?"

  Shrugging, I figured why not? “Okay.”

  Standing, he walked over to a bookshelf. It swung out on hinges to reveal a large safe in the wall. The tumblers unlocked as he dialed the combination into the ancient knob.

  “So, yeah, I like guns.” He held the rifle up to his shoulder and looked down the sight. “My dad gave me this rifle when I finished my undergrad.” He handed the weapon to me.

  I held it up to my shoulder like he did. I thought there would be a smell of gunpowder or sulfur, but it didn’t smell like either. I scented some kind of oil, the metal of the gun, and maybe wood polish.

  "Here." His hands were on my own. "Like this." His breath tickled my neck. "I have a scope that goes right there."

  That shiver went down my spine again. Our faces almost touched.

  “Is it loaded?” I wondered.

  “No.” His chest rumbled against my back as he fiddled with the moving parts. “This is the safety.”

  “That little button?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled on the lever. “This is how you load it.”

  “This is a hunting rifle?” I asked, turning my head so we were almost nose to nose.

  Owen’s breath became unsteady. “Yes.” He licked his lips, before breaking eye contact. “It’s for hunting large game like deer or elk.”

  I could see several other weapons in the gun safe.

  "It looks like you have quite the collection. What else is in there?" I asked as I lowered the rifle.

  His arms dropped away from me. “Um, my favorite is
this SIG 9-millimeter pistol.” Placing the rifle back into its cradle, he grabbed a handgun from its hook. Pulling back on a top lever, he checked the chamber before handing it out to me.

  “What do you use this for?” I held it with two hands as if it were a bomb.

  "Protection." He tilted his head to the side. "My dad had a sidearm just like this, and I always wanted one." He motioned to me. “Grip the handle, finger off the trigger.”

  Aiming at the bookshelf with both hands, I looked down the barrel.

  Biting my lip, I sighed. “It’s really heavy.” This gun was made to kill people.

  I examined the weapon while Owen fiddled with things in the safe. “If you’d like, there’s a spot here on the property that’s great for target practice.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Okay, it’s a date then.” His words hung in the air before he laughed at himself. “I mean, not a date date, but…”

  I shook my head at his silliness. “I know what you mean.”

  “So, how are you from the Lone Star State like myself and have never handled a gun?” he asked me, baffled.

  Because I’m a big fat liar. “I don’t know.” I hadn’t known he was from Texas. “What part are you from?”

  “San Antonio.”

  “Well, mister, you don’t have an accent either."

  “I’m an army brat. We moved around most of my life, but Texas was where my parents settled.”

  I watched him as he put the guns away and closed the safe. “So, what made you decide to study diseases?”

  “Well…”

  We sat again, and I crossed my legs as he hesitated.

  "I feel like you know everything about me, and I know hardly anything about you," I told him.

  He looked away from me, his face grave. "Okay. When I was younger, my brother was sick. I mean really sick. My mom took him all over to see different doctors, and no one knew what he had."

  “Is he okay?”

  "Clayton's fine today. We ended up seeing an infectious disease specialist, and she realized what he had. I was hooked. She’d solved a mystery."

  I wondered what Owen would think of a vampire system and vampire blood.

  “Isn’t there something you can tell me about what you do? Anything that’s not classified? I mean, I signed that non-disclosure.” I looked at him pleadingly. “And, you’ve seemed kind of off lately. Maybe you just need to talk to someone.”

  Looking down at his hands, Owen sighed. “I’m working on a project that’s…” He pressed his lips together and looked back at me. “It's more than I think I can handle. The company I work for has a whole team of scientists focusing on it…but this is all new information to me.” He sighed heavily and pierced me with his gaze.

  “So,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “that’s why you’re going to New York for a week?”

  Owen nodded and stretched. "I hate leaving the kids, but I…"

  “You…?” I shook my head and raised my eyebrows.

  “I have to be careful about what I share with you about my work.”

  "That sucks." I exhaled a quiet chuckle. "It's hard to be normal when you have so many secrets." I said it about myself, as much as him, and his gold eyes lit with understanding.

  “Elizabeth,” he cocked his head, “do you have a lot of secrets?”

  "You'll have to figure that out, won't you?"

  His smile reached his eyes at my comment, and I smiled back, our gazes lingering.

  "Okay, I'll change the subject. Why do doctors always take a person's pulse? I don't get that."

  “Well, a person's pulse and blood pressure can tell you a lot about their health, about their heart and veins." He reached for my arm and held it, tracing my blue veins under my white skin. I’m pale, but that has nothing to do with being a vampire and everything to do with my British heritage.

  His touch feathered over my arm, and our eyes met with intensity.

  I looked down at his strong fingers on my skin. His fingernails were neat and trimmed. His hands were strong and muscular. A liquid heat burned low in my belly, and I urged him to kiss me with my eyes.

  My mouth opened to say something, but nothing came to my mind, so I licked my lips and flicked my glance between his mouth and his eyes.

  His mouth curved into a slight smile. “Your pulse just went up.”

  “I… I know.” I know, aren’t I just a genius with words! Oh, and yes, I have a pulse! I’ve always thought about myself as a living vampire because I have a heartbeat.

  He reached toward me with his other hand and tucked a curl behind my ear. Then his fingers touched my neck, traced my collarbone, then cupped my arm, and slid the length. Owen watched me as I reacted to his touch.

  I don't know what he saw when he leaned toward me. I thought… I hoped…

  “You have unusual eyes, your pupils…“

  Immediately, I looked down, hiding my gaze. Yes, my pupils were a little different if someone looked at them carefully.

  I needed blood, and this wasn’t the time to be fooling around with a human.

  Standing, I put my back to my employer. When I was across the room by the door, I turned. "Goodnight. I should get to sleep.”

  “’Night.”

  We both smiled, and the silence lasted for a moment too long before he said, “Thanks for the company.”

  “Anytime.” It felt so right to be near him, even though I shouldn’t encourage this relationship. Even short term it wasn’t a good idea.

  At the end of the day, I was still a monster.

  My mantra, I am a good person. I bring good things to this world.

  Was it true?

  I tried so hard to not give into temptation.

  But I gave in, to be near him.

  Where was my self-control? It had felt so right to be with Dr. Bennett, yet I knew that being with him would only cause both of us pain in the end.

  I didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't want to get hurt.

  Not again.

  I had to get more blood tomorrow.

  Thirst was my constant companion. It was always within me, fighting to be unleashed.

  A murmur of voices in the foyer made me stop reading and lay my bookmark in place. I was in the library rereading Pride and Prejudice, reclining on one of the solid overstuffed couches.

  I could hear the low timbre of Owen’s voice, the high-pitched sounds of the children, and the rapid womanly Spanish of Flor. Then I listened to his footsteps on the hardwood floor and the front door closed behind him.

  I went to the window and watched him get into his SUV, start the engine, and drive away.

  A terrible sense of dread fell over me. I needed to create some distance between us, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to follow through.

  Did he believe there was a future with me?

  Maybe he just wanted a fling?

  Maybe he was fighting our attraction like I was.

  Would he have kissed me last night if I hadn’t gotten up?

  I felt dizzy.

  I should have taken a little blood from him and made him forget. My blood cravings were intense, but we'd been so busy I hadn't had time to go into town. It had been three days since I’d fed.

  I sat down to keep the room from spinning. Then I slowly stumbled my way to the kitchen. In the meat drawer were some sirloin and three separate pounds of ground beef. I pulled one out and brought it to my room. I thought for sure I would run into one of the kids or Elaine, who had just finished doing dishes.

  Instead, I made it to my hallway unseen, locked the door, then slit the bottom of the plastic, and sucked the blood out.

  I felt better but was still thirsty. I put the meat back into the refrigerator drawer.

  After drinking all the juice out of every package, I carefully rewrapped them so that no one would know.

  As always when my problem led me to these types of situations, guilt washed over me and shamed me for scavenging blood. But how could I pos
sibly let myself get any thirstier when I needed to be around the children?

  Someone knocked at my door.

  “Yes?” I called out.

  Becca ambled in and tugged at my arm. "My dad left." Her chin jutted out, and tears filled her big eyes.

  I was relieved that my bloodlust was slaked for now, because instinctively, I held the child to me, stroking her wheat-colored hair. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and the outdoors.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I soothed. “He’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  She sniffled and held me close. “I know, but I didn’t want him to go.”

  “Shhh…” I held her away from me and wiped her face with a tissue. “No more tears. He’ll be home soon, you’ll see.” I kissed her forehead and held her again.

  She represented everything denied me as a vampire.

  I married Alexander shortly after I was changed. It was in the middle of the Great War. He was twelve years my senior, and even though I thought I was in love, my upper-class marriage was basically an arrangement.

  We were "a good fit," or so I was told.

  I kept my secret for almost twenty years before Alexander found out I was drinking blood. He said the war had been too much for my female brain and had me sent to an asylum.

  I was there for a little under a month when things began to go poorly.

  I almost convinced myself that my cravings for raw meat, my swiftness, and my strength had all been a delusion. I thought I was crazy.

  Then the bloodlust came, and I couldn't fight it anymore.

  The physical changes when I denied myself blood became apparent, and I wasn’t able to hide them. I was locked in a room and tied down with restraints. They tortured me with ice-water and electric shock.

  Instead of becoming docile and immobile, my senses heightened to a level I had yet to experience. Nevertheless, I stayed quiet and watched and waited.

  After being locked in my room on that final day, I heard footsteps and voices from down the hall approach.

  A heartbeat nearby, and I listened as it grew closer.

  Unable to control my impulses any longer, I broke my restraints. When the nurse came into my room, I welcomed her and drew her close to my bedside.