Chapter 14

The sun was shining when Eric arrived at his office. It was a gorgeous Sunday morning, perfect for doing absolutely nothing except sitting and watching the world go by. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to do something like that? Eric wondered. Years. Maybe decades. He was always working.

Because when he worked, he didn’t have to think about how lonely his life was, or what it had become.

Fuck it. The work would always be there, more than he could finish in several masquerada lifetimes. Agreements, treaties, petitions. Walking that eternal fine line that would keep his people safe and strong, and still secret from the statics. He fought back a yawn. It had been a late night as they had worked until their plans to deal with Iverson were solid. That son of a bitch.

The hell with Iverson. He was going to go for a walk and he was going to enjoy it.

Instead of hustling down the stairs, he lingered by the window. That morning the medics had decided he should avoid masquing for another few days, but when he’d pressed them, they’d admitted it was mostly for safety’s sake. There was no real reason he couldn’t shift and he wanted to, desperately. He’d been crafting a masque in his head all week and was dying to test it out on the street. An older man with a huge potbelly. He loved the idea of the potbelly hanging over his belt, a thin line of graying hair under the navel. Shit, the clothes. He didn’t bring anything that would fit. Fine, for the first go, he’d do no belly. Keep it to a soft pudginess.

He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. Then doubled over with dry heaves, sharp pains shooting through his chest.

That wasn’t right. Maybe he did need more rest. He’d never experienced anything like that before. Cautiously, he closed his eyes again. This time, the nausea rose but he managed to restrain himself.

For a moment, anyway, until he realized that something was wrong.

The cavern in his mind, the visualization he used to shift into a masque, was there. The masques were all there, including the one he’d just created, as round and appealing as he’d imagined. There was no way to reach it, though—it was as though the cavern had been sealed off behind an impenetrable wall of diamond. He couldn’t enter. Instead, he stood on the threshold, frozen and sick as his hands skated over the slick surface and panicked thoughts flew through his mind.

Push. Break through. It was impossible. Alarm rose and his eyes flew open. Back in the safety of the office, he took deep breaths and tried to talk himself through what had happened. Frieda had implanted the idea in his mind. It was a physical response to the convergence. He’d been stressed. Maybe the medics were right and he did need a couple more days. There was nothing the matter.

Yeah. Give it a day. Some rest would make everything right. That’s all he needed to fix this. He wiped the sweat off his brow and decided to go for that walk right now to refocus his mind. Worry wasn’t going to help. In seconds, he was at the bottom of the stairs. A cool breeze came off the lake and he automatically turned toward it, deciding to head along the lakeshore toward the Humber River. There was a raised boardwalk that would take him right along the beach.

Despite the incredible weather, only a few people were on the boardwalk that early in the morning. Finally, he began to calm down. A break was what he needed. Ahead of him rose the graceful curves of the white steel bridge that passed over the Humber River. The dark water lapped the sand to his left, the beach dotted with old driftwood and screeching seagulls.

Life went on. Some young fathers trotted along with their children in strollers. A couple jogged by, chatting calmly about nothing in particular. Eric watched as they disappeared ahead of him, conscious of a tightness in his throat. Surely he couldn’t be jealous. When had he ever wanted to have conversations about where to place the new dining room table? Maybe the tenth of Never.

The image of Caro rose unbidden in his mind and he groaned. It wasn’t the goddamn table. It was the comfort they had, the shared life. He’d never wanted a woman that close to him. Not until Caro came along.

He wanted her. All of her.

The second he thought the words, he stopped. It was impossible. First, he hardly knew the woman. Sure, he liked what he knew of her, but that wasn’t enough. Unbidden images of her sweet taste rose in his mind and he tried to push them aside. That wasn’t real, dolt. It only happened in your mind. A crazy and random shared mental connection. You’ve never touched her like that. Not in real life.

Maybe not, but it had felt real enough.

Caro Yeats was an intriguing mystery. That’s it. Curiosity and desire. It was interest, nothing more. Not by a long shot.

But when she was in his mind, she fit. Perfectly; like part of him he didn’t even know was missing.

What did he have to offer a woman like her? Love was never part of his deal. Desire, yes. Sex, of course. Even occasional companionship. To love a woman who not only was a half-blood, but flat-out refused to shift? His people would see her latency as an insult, a rejection of the masquerada way of life. How could he live a life of lies with someone who couldn’t understand his need to create different masques? He tapped down the ridiculous thought that he could no longer shift. Of course he’d be able to shift again. His body just needed to recover.

Caro. He was simply attracted to her. Enjoyed speaking with her. It was nothing more. After this mess with Iverson was finished, he could go fuck her and get her out of his system.

The second he thought the words, he winced, ashamed to have even had the thought. Not that she would let him get away with it. Caro was nothing if not strong-minded. It had been a long time since a woman had given him as good as she got. In fact, it had been so long, he’d forgotten how much he liked it. The women who came into his life now were chosen more for their dislike of commitment rather than any challenge they offered.

Forget it, Kelton. You’re not meant to have a woman share your life, let alone a woman like her. Get over it and concentrate on the things you can control.

Then he laughed out loud at the thought of ever controlling Caro Yeats. She’d hand him his balls on a platter.

Still, it was worth the risk.

* * * *

It would be a good idea, thought Caro. No, a great idea. She hadn’t gone for a run in a long time, but this morning the distant dark blue of Lake Ontario called her name when she stood on the balcony drinking her coffee. She didn’t even think twice before pulling on some shorts and lacing up her shoes, wondering if it would help the headache that still lingered. Wait…lingered? More like pounded. Mimosas packed a freaking punch. She wondered if Estelle was doing okay, then resentfully recalled her cheerful assurance that vampires never suffered hangovers.

Score another one for the arcana.

Caro guzzled a glass of water and took two more aspirin before heading out. It was still early and she ran slowly, enjoying the sheer pleasure of the sun on her shoulders while letting her mind empty itself of all the things that were bothering her.

Well, there were only two things, but they were as annoying as twenty. She was still fuming about what Julien had said to her the other day. What a disgusting pig. The fact that apparently the whole office had heard him accuse her of screwing a client wasn’t helping her get over it.

The second was said client.

Estelle thought Eric was interested, but Caro couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Sure, they’d had crazy monkey sex, but that had been in his head (still weird) and she had been saving him from dying, basically. You couldn’t tell anything from that; it had nothing to do with her. She happened to be there; nothing but a tool used to complete a job.

Not to mention he’d regretted it afterward. Exactly what a woman wanted to hear. So good for the ego.

The problem was—one of the problems was—she corrected herself, that she’d never been so attracted to a man before. Luckily his sheer unattainability made him safe. What happened in that dream room was never going to happen in reality. He’d assured her of that, and part of why she wasn’t actually angry was that she felt the same way. One masquerada in her life had been one too many. Eric had been a random thing and one that should never have happened. He was the ultimate fantasy. For her, he was the ultimate forbidden fantasy.

Too bad she was driving herself insane replaying, touch by touch, what had happened in that long dark cavern.

Without thinking, she turned onto Sunnyside boardwalk and started to run faster. Ahead of her walked a tall man dressed for the office, even though it was early Sunday morning. He looked like Eric, and Caro felt desire rise in her like a tide. What was wrong with her? She was about to jump some poor guy going for a relaxing stroll simply because he happened to have the same incredible broad shoulders as Eric. She didn’t even like Eric, she reminded herself. Well, maybe she liked him but she didn’t trust him. Trust was something you could never give a masquerada.

She moved to the left to pass the man as a cyclist came up from behind. Since the attack, she hadn’t been able to get rid of the jumpiness that overtook her whenever she was surprised, and now she leapt to the side like a startled gazelle before falling off the boardwalk in an undignified heap on the sand. The oblivious jerk pedaled on. Caro tried to curb the emotions that flooded in, but felt the tears coming as the fear stayed strong and steady in her chest. Her heart raced until she thought it was going to pound right out of her chest. Nausea fought with fear as her fight-or-flight kicked in and sent her whole system into overdrive.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Please stop.” She hugged herself tightly, focusing so hard on trying to calm down that she almost forgot where she was. As if from a distance, she heard a man calling her name.

* * * *

When Caro looked up, her eyes haunted and filled with unshed tears, Eric’s anger was intense. He thought he was going to explode. If he hadn’t needed to help her, he would have gone after that jackass on the bike and ripped his arms off.

“Caro, are you hurt?” Eric knelt beside her and took her gently by the shoulders. “Look at me. Can you walk?”

Her face was blank and her fingers were clenched together so tightly that they were white. There was something else going on here, an inner chaos far more serious than a fall. Perhaps Tom had been right when he said she was hiding something.

“Caro, can you hear me? It’s Eric. Eric Kelton. You fell off the boardwalk.”

Life came back to her eyes and this time when she looked at him, she saw him. “Eric! What are you doing here?” She glanced around, wrinkling her nose against the sun. “That jerk cyclist. You’re supposed to ride on the paved path, not the boardwalk.”

She was back to her usual prickly self, thought Eric with amusement. His humor faded quickly when she tried to stand and sank back down with a cry of pain.

“You’re hurt.”

“My ankle. I must have twisted it when I fell.” She bit her lip and his body jerked in response as her teeth sank into the full, pink flesh.

“Let me help.” He reached down and she ignored his hand.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. This time she rose and began to brush the beach sand off her legs, deliberately ignoring him. Now Eric’s cock came to complete attention. Caro was dressed in tiny running shorts that showed off her curvy ass and fine thighs. A thin line of sweat dripped down between her breasts and Eric’s hands trembled at the thought of it trickling along her soft flesh.

Then, God help him, the cold breeze off the lake brushed by and hardened the sweet berries of her nipples under the thin tank that clung to her like a second skin. His mouth went dry.

She took a step and an expression of pain crossed her face. “Enough,” he growled. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“Perhaps it’s a bit more swollen then I thought,” she admitted.

That’s all the encouragement he needed. In one step, he scooped her up in his arms, reveling in the sweet woman scent that rose off her warm skin. She gasped, then wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. Her soft breath echoed in his ear and he tightened his grip, cradling her ass with his hands. Control yourself, he ordered himself. She’s injured. He swallowed hard as she wriggled in his arms.

“Where do you live?”

She laughed softly and he nearly stumbled at the sensual sound of it. “Too far for you to carry me. Let’s sit down for a moment in the park. I heal fast. Always have.”

The park wasn’t far and Eric forced himself to release her when they stepped into it. She felt right, being carried against his heart. He put her down on a wrought iron bench under a shady oak and she flinched as she tested her injury.

“Let me see.” Eric didn’t even wait for her to reply before taking her foot onto his thigh. It already looked less swollen, the skin now darkening around her ankle.

“It’s fine,” she said.

She shivered and he took off his jacket to wrap around her. “You’ll get chilled,” he said. To his pleasure, she nodded and curled up inside of it like a little cat.

As he held Caro’s leg, he couldn’t help himself. He ran his hand up and down her calf, softly, enjoying the warm feel of her skin. If possible, his cock grew even harder, simply from running his hand along the smooth flesh.

“Eric,” she whispered.

“I won’t do anything more. Just this.” Their eyes locked as he kept gliding his hand slowly along her leg. First to her calf, then to her knee. The excitement in her face caused his breath to catch.

So he moved his hand a little bit higher.