6

Another Way

If you’re lucky, he’ll move on.

Jackson’s loathsome words would not leave her. No matter how busy she kept herself, they echoed in the back of her head like a drumbeat, rattled her soul, and cut into her confidence.

If you’re lucky, he’ll move on.

People always moved on and out of Cassidy’s life. Some by betrayal, as Jackson had, others, like her father, because he couldn’t handle the reality of the incurable disease that claimed her mother. There had never been close family to rely on, and friends soon faded away too, busy with lives that bore no resemblance to her responsibility-packed existence. By the time she started college and met Jackson, she was determined to charge at life solo. He persuaded her to give him a chance anyway. She barely lived to regret it.

Then again, if not for Jackson, she wouldn’t have met Dominique. And Dominique was the only one she trusted never to betray her.

At least until last night.

If you’re lucky, he’ll move on.

She sucked in a breath between clamped teeth and scrubbed both hands over her face. No, Dominique would figure it out, whatever it was. When he was ready to face this new demon, she would be ready to face it with him. For all that Jackson knew about vampires, he knew nothing about Dominique.

Something pushed at her side with small, sharp-clawed hands. Eddie. The enormous cat lay wedged between her and the back of the sofa she had passed out on when she got home and exhaustion finally caught up to her. His green eyes were slits of warning, clearly displeased with her anxiety.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Go back to sleep,” she said and scratched his shaggy head until a contended purr rumbled to life.

With her free hand, she checked her phone. No messages, and sunset had been an hour ago. Around her, the house was quiet and empty.

Before her thoughts could spiral again, she carefully separated from the cat, got up, and padded to the kitchen. Her mushroom and cheese omelet dinner was almost ready when she heard the front door open.

“Salut,” she said without turning around.

“Bon soir, mon amour,” Dominique replied, his voice as tender as his words.

She bit her lip to keep from running into his arms. His wintery scent enveloped her as he came closer, making her dizzy with a longing that transcended the merely physical.

He moved to the counter next to her and busied himself cutting up the ingredients she had laid out for a salad. “How was your day?”

“Complicated,” she allowed. The confusion still swirled, though not so thick now that he was by her side, and the tang of peppers and onions began to overpower his intoxicating fragrance.

“What happened?”

Cassidy smiled through her bitterness. Now, there was a question they never asked each other. They didn’t need to. Not when their bond was intact.

She shook her head a little. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

The knife dicing a cucumber stilled. Then he was behind her, solid as a wall, his powerful arms gently coming around her. With a deep sigh, she leaned against him, feeling safe for the first time in twenty-four hours.

He kissed her temple, drawing her closer. She turned her head to press a cheek against his sand-dusted shoulder and bare her neck to him. No, she wouldn’t ask again, much less beg. But neither could she tell him in words what only emotion could convey—her uncertainty, her longing…her love.

His breath caressed her skin as he savored her aroma, making her shiver with anticipation of those razor-sharp teeth sliding into her flesh. They didn’t. Instead, he whispered in her ear. “Come ride with me tonight.”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate her disappointment. “Ride with you on your bike?”

“Oui.”

Her whole body stiffened. “You want me to go hunting with you?” That was his usual reason for taking the bike out. She had experienced the worst of him in his memories and with her own eyes. There was no point in witnessing more. Especially now, when there was no telepathic link between them to keep her safe when he became aroused.

“No. I had enough of that to keep me for a while.”

“Then where would we go?”

“Anywhere you want. Just you and me and the night.”

Where Cassidy wanted to go, no motorcycle was required, but she bit off that thought before it could leave her tongue. This was Dominique trying something new—being with her without being in her head—and she would give it a chance. Anything was better than spending another night wondering what was going on with him.

She shut off the stove and poked at the somewhat overdone omelet. It would keep for breakfast.

“You can take me to dinner. We could talk.”

“Excellent.” He released her to pull a storage container out of the cabinet and began piling the salad ingredients into it. His gold-flecked hazel eyes sparkled as he lapsed into French, his go-to language when he got excited. His relief at not having to bite her was painfully obvious.

She tried to follow his words. Without a direct connection to his mind, her comprehension of French was dicey, but “bistro français” was clear enough.

“Cuban,” she interrupted. “There’s a new Cuban place in Jupiter that’s getting rave reviews.”

He hesitated before nodding. “Your wish is my command, chérie. Cuban, it is.”

So much for being compelled, she thought as she went upstairs to get dressed. Too bad Jackson isn’t here to see it.

Traveling south had not been in Dominique’s plans, much less with Cassidy in tow. South was where the other vampire hunted, and he had no intention of crossing paths with her again, much less expose Cassidy to a threat of that magnitude.

This possibility ate at him all the way down the highway, even as he reveled in the feel of her clinging to his back. He matched his speed with prevailing traffic, but couldn’t resist the occasional artful swerve that made her gasp and giggle inside her helmet.

At the restaurant, he ordered for them in Spanish. When the food arrived, he left his own small plate of papas rellenas untouched while she demolished her order of bistec empanizado.

No other blood-drinkers lurked among the boisterous crowd, allowing him to focus solely on her. She wore his favorite sweater, no doubt a conscious decision on her part. It was a thin, muted blue garment that was as seductive to the touch as it was to the eye, leaving as it did, one sun-kissed shoulder invitingly bare. Last time she had worn it, he’d been unable to maintain a coherent thought in his head until he nuzzled into her neck and…

No. That wouldn’t happen tonight. It could not.

He took pains to keep his eyes away from her shoulder and concentrated instead on her voice. They spoke as they had not in a while, about their pasts and aspirations, delighting in the challenge of translating into actual words what they both already knew emotionally and from shared memories.

Cassidy reaffirmed her intention of making a success of her position at the Gazette for the next year or two and then use the experience to qualify for opportunities elsewhere. Where didn’t matter to Dominique. Where she went, he would go. Keeping her safe was his top priority, closely followed by reversing his own cursed condition, slim as that possibility was.

Neither one of them mentioned the prophecy.

Though they talked and laughed like any other couple there, the sense of loss over their bond haunted them. She gamely followed his lead and didn’t mention it, but she couldn’t hide the flashes of sadness in her eyes. He felt it, too. Mutual sorrow lingered where a live wire of connection should have crackled.

Back at the cottage, on the front porch, she thanked him for a “delightful evening” with a gentle kiss that quickly turned passionate. He melted into her yielding mouth as deeply as he longed to melt into her body, her blood, her very soul, and she met him with staggering desperation. His hunger sharpened into a fine steel blade slicing through his heart and emerged in a soft, throbbing growl.

Encouraged, she slid an inquisitive hand down his back and took brazen hold of his buttocks. The memory of another hand working another part of another body exploded in his mind. In an instant, his pure yearning for her twisted into every degenerate lust roused by that kill, a seething depravity demanding satisfaction.

Somehow, he stopped himself from bolting out of her arms, withdrawing instead with profound regret.

“Would you like to come in?” Her voice was smoky with desire. “For a nightcap?” She tucked her shoulder-length hair behind one ear and inclined her head toward the door.

The pulse ticking in her neck drew his attention without mercy. As did the sound of blood rushing in her veins, and the knowledge of the tantalizing sweater she wore beneath her jacket.

“Not a good idea,” he said quietly. If he stepped through that door, not taking her up on her invitation would be impossible. His teeth would find their mark, he would merge with her, and she would know this new vile appetite. After that, she wouldn’t want to be in the same house with him, much less the same bed.

Her hands sunk into the pockets of her jacket. “Still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

“No. Not yet.” Maybe never. Could they exist like this after the intimacies they had shared? Or would she consider it yet another abandonment in her life? But wasn’t what he was saving her from worse? Or was he just delaying the inevitable, and he would lose her either way?

They stood shrouded in darkness, the silence between them filling with an intrepid cricket and the ocean’s mumbling.

Finally, she drew a shaky breath. “I love you, Dominique, and I miss you more than words can say.”

He bowed his head but said nothing. She held his heart in her hands. She was why he dared to hope, and the reason he lived at all. For this, there were no words. There were only the tears sliding down his face.

Cassidy entered the cottage, her steps hesitant, and closed the door with a soft click.

“Et je te manque,” he whispered. “And I you.”