Cat Adams - Blood Song

with a creature as old and powerful as this one.

“It could actual y work.” There was an unflattering amount of surprise in Matty’s voice. Being a grownup, I ignored it.

“Can you think of anything better?” Bruno chal enged him.

Matty sighed. “No.” He made the concession with il grace, but I appreciated his honesty.

“Between the three of us, we can handle one vampire.” Bruno sounded supremely confident.

Talk about your famous last words.

18

I should’ve been exhausted. God knows it had been a rough couple of days and I’d had too little

sleep. But I was wired and jumpy, too tired to sleep. So I dropped Bruno off at his hotel, promising to

pick him up wel before sunset. The rest of the afternoon I spent running errands: visiting the attorney

about Vicki’s funeral arrangements, seeing Isaac about making a replacement jacket and having it

delivered ASAP. Dawna had texted me several times—about Bruno mostly, although she did send word

that Gwendolyn Talbert had cal ed me back.

That was one cal I needed to return. I pul ed off into a shady parking lot to dial.

“Hel o.”

“Gwen? It’s me.”

“Celia! It’s good to hear your voice.” She paused. “I was so sorry to hear about Vicki. How are you

holding up?”

“Not wel ,” I admitted. “Did you get my message?”

“Yes, and I can’t say how sorry I am that I can’t help you. When I retired I let my certification lapse.

But I’ve got a few names for you. They’re real y excel ent. And if you’d be wil ing to try an inpatient

stay—”

“No.”

She sighed. “I know you don’t like the idea. But admitting you need help is not a failure.”

“I’m not locking myself up, Gwen. Particularly not now. Not if I can help it.”

“Why particularly not now?”

I forced myself to stay calm and answer her question rational y. “Because I look like a monster—a

vampire. It frightens people. If they lock me up, they just might throw away the key.” The next words

came tumbling out as if of their own volition. “And when the money is gone, they’l send me to the state.”

She didn’t argue the point. She was too honest for that. In fact, she was honest enough to admit I had

reason to be afraid. “But can you be sure they won’t lock you up anyway? If you’re real y as frightening

as you claim, what’s to keep the authorities from treating you like any other monster?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that was freaking terrifying.

When I didn’t answer, she let it go, not pushing further. “It’s your choice. But I worry for you, Celia.”

“You and me both.”

She sighed. “Just think about it, okay? In the meantime, try one of these.”

I wrote the names and phone numbers she gave me on the back of an envelope. We didn’t talk too

much after that. There was an awkwardness between us that hadn’t been there before, as if the wal of

professionalism had gotten tal er and thicker after she retired. It made me a little bit sad. Stil , I thanked

her, and promised I’d set an appointment with somebody.

I kept checking my mirror as I drove around town doing my errands. I’d half-expected to find Dee and

Dum fol owing me, but there was no sign of them—or they were good enough that I couldn’t catch them.

Unsettling thought, that. Stil , I pretended it didn’t bother me and went about my business. By the time I

let myself into Bruno’s hotel suite I had accomplished quite a lot, but none of it was earth-shattering.

As I opened the door, I could faintly hear the sound of running water and Bruno’s spirited rendition of

“Copacabana.” I shook my head, smiling. Some things never change. At one point or another al six of

Mama DeLuca’s boys had been cal ed on to sing at their uncle Sal’s lounge. But only Bruno real y took

to it. He has a great voice and an honest love of songs I consider just too cheesy.

“It’s me,” I cal ed out, even though I was pretty sure he already knew. “And I brought Chinese.” I’d

cal ed in the order and used the drive-up so as not to scare anyone.

I heard the water shut off. “Bless you, woman, I’m starving.”

He was always “starving.” Only the fact that he had the metabolism of a chipmunk on speed kept him

from becoming as wide as he was tal . I’d chosen Chinese because it’s the one type of ethnic food I

don’t like. Something about the smel , I think. Or maybe the look of it just turns me off. But I could bring

him Chinese food and not get aggravated at having to suck down yet another shake.

I glanced around the room. It was nice but nothing fancy. Standard pair of double beds, one recently

used, a large window with blackout curtains, nice dark wood table and chairs, with a matching armoire

to house the television and store clothing. I pul ed a chair away from the table and sat down just as

Bruno ducked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.

I stared.

Hel , I’d dare any red-blooded heterosexual woman not to.

I mean, the man looked fine. Oh, there were a few more scars and gray hairs, but there wasn’t an

ounce of excess fat on that body. In fact, he was in better shape than when we’d been together. Broad

shoulders, narrow waist, and muscled legs al said he stil ran stairs, like he used to run bleachers in

school.

He laughed and his smile widened to the wicked grin I remembered so wel . “We don’t have time,” he

teased.

“No, we don’t,” I agreed, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was a damned shame, and I didn’t look away.

Stil , there was real regret in my voice when I said, “And we probably wouldn’t do it even if there was.”

“Don’t bet on that.” He grabbed the sack of food from my hand and reached into it to pul out an egg

rol . This, of course, left the towel held together with only a loose little half-knot. One little tug … He

gave me a wink. “I mean, I’ve only just recovered from the last time.”

I blushed. I couldn’t help it. With him standing there, like that, the memory of last time was just too

fresh.

He laughed again, a sound of pure delight. “God, I’ve missed you, Celia.” He leaned over, giving me a

gentle kiss that tasted like egg rol and him. Combined with the gentle caress of his hand down the side

of my face, it set things in motion al over my body. “I know al the reasons it didn’t work. But I do miss

you.”

“I miss you, too.” I felt a little pang of sorrow admitting it out loud. I’d loved him so much, wanted it to

work so badly. Even though we’d both tried, it just hadn’t. But even at our worst the sex had been

spectacular, and athletic enough that we’d actual y broken the frame of his bed.

He leaned forward and kissed me again, this time with more … enthusiasm. He even managed to

French-kiss me without stabbing himself on my fangs. He pul ed me to my feet and I let him. Smooth

muscles pul ed me tight against him until I groaned. Then his mouth was on my neck, nipping and

kissing until I felt tension in places I hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands moved up and down my body

with practiced ease, remembering the curves and hot spots that made my knees weak without even

trying. I couldn’t help but glide my fingers over his stil -damp back. I was sorely tempted to pul away the

towel and pul him onto the floor on top of me. To hel with the vampire or the Feds or anything else. I