“What can we do, then?” Leigh asked finally. “I mean, I know the downside; no sunlight, stay out of churches and avoid crosses, because I’m now cursed and soulless, but—”
“We are not cursed,” Lucian said shortly. “We can go in churches without bursting into flames and we can touch crosses. We can also go out in sunlight, we just have to drink more blood to make up for it.”
Leigh blinked in surprise, then frowned. “Are you sure? I mean it’s not that I believe every movie I see or anything, but until Morgan bit me, I didn’t believe in vampires either, and the movies all seem to suggest churches and sunlight aren’t healthy for vampires.”
“Immortal,” he corrected automatically.
“And Morgan and his people all slept in coffins,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “If the rest of it isn’t true, why the coffins? Do I need to keep a bit of the soil of my homeland in the coffin with me?”
Lucian grimaced at the memory of the more than twenty coffins in the basement of the house, resting places for Morgan and his turns. It had been a long while since his people slept in coffins to avoid exposure to the sun. Some had done it as a protective measure in the days when homes were drafty edifices with cracks that allowed the sun in, but that was long ago. Still, it was common for one of their kind who had gone rogue to use the old mythology brought about by books and movies to control their followers. They usually claimed they were their sire, could read their minds, and know whether they were faithful or not. All of which was true, actually.
However, they also let them think they were now one of the soulless, walking dead, and didn’t tell them they could walk in daylight and enter churches and such. Rogues and their followers usually lived the life of a vamp in a bad movie; shunning sunlight, feeding off the living, and making slaves and sycophants of their followers.
Lucian had no idea why some went that way while others didn’t. It was as if they just snapped after living so long and witnessing so much. He had known immortals who were fine for a thousand years and then suddenly went rogue. Others had turned after only a couple of centuries, but however long it took, they snapped and became the darker version of their kind, using and abusing mortals, and ultimately turning as many as they could to create their own cult of worshippers. Lucian didn’t understand the whys of it, although he’d noted that they were always single immortals who had either lost or not yet found their life mates. Since he fit into that group, he found it all rather worrisome. He didn’t want to turn that way. He had Marguerite and the kids to worry about. Someone had to keep an eye on them now that Jean Claude was gone.
Wringing out the mop one final time, Lucian carried it and the wringer to the closet to hang them up, then collected the bucket and carried it to the sink to empty.
“Movies and books are just that—fictional tales meant for entertainment,” he said tartly. He hated to repeat himself or have the validity of what he said be questioned.
“So we really aren’t cursed and soulless and we can go out in sunlight.” She said the words slowly, and he suspected she didn’t believe him.
A little put out at her still doubting him, he turned, lifted her off the table, then caught her hand and led her to the back door. Pushing open the screen door, he walked outside, tugging her behind him.
“There,” he said firmly as Julius rushed over to them. “It’s morning and you’re outside and you haven’t burst into flames.”
Leigh shifted on her bare feet in the grass, her gaze dropping to Julius as she petted the beast, then up to the sky overhead.
“Yeah, but it’s not really morning yet, the sky is mostly dark,” she pointed out.
Flapping his hands in exasperation, Lucian turned to march back into the house. He paused at the door and called out to Julius, but the dog simply ran off to the back of the yard. Apparently he wasn’t ready to come inside. Shrugging, Lucian entered the house, and was back at the sink, rinsing the bucket out, when he heard the door open and close as Leigh came back in.
“But I do believe you,” she announced as if he needed reassurance. “And it’s... well, it’s good.”
Lucian felt his mouth twitch at the understatement, but killed it. Then he gave in to the offered olive branch and said, “You can go out in sunlight, but I do not recommend you do so again for a while.”
“Why?”
“You are still in the turning and will be for a while. During that time you’ll already need a lot of blood. There’s no need to add to it by going outside.”
“Why do I need a lot of blood?” she asked.
“While you’re turning, your body uses up more blood than it will once it’s done.”
“Why?”
Lucian frowned. It was like talking to a ten-year-old. Why? Why? Why? Repressing his impatience, he explained, “Because the blood is needed to repair any damage incurred over the last—” He paused to glance at her, then guessed. “—Twenty-six years.”
“Thirty,” Leigh corrected with a grin. “But thank you for the compliment.”
Her grin made Lucian want to smile. He scowled instead and turned back to the sink as he continued, “Your body will be busy repairing any damage to your skin, liver, kidneys, lungs, heart... ” He shrugged. “It will also be using the extra blood to improve your eyesight, hearing, strength, speed—”
“Improve?” she interrupted with interest. “You mean I’ll be able to hear and see better and I’ll be stronger and faster?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm. Kind of like Superman. I guess that’s cool. At least there are some perks with this deal.”
Lucian set the bucket in the sink and glanced over his shoulder with disbelief. “Some perks? What part of never aging, never getting sick, and living hundreds—possibly thousands—of years, didn’t you understand?”
A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but all she said was, “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
Lucian was still blinking over the comment when she asked, “So it will improve me and needs the extra blood at first to do so?”
He stared for another moment, trying to figure out if she really found his grumpiness cute or if she was teasing him. Unable to tell from her expression, he muttered under his breath and turned back to the sink. Tugging the bandanna off his head, he tossed it on the counter.
“Is that right?” she persisted.
“Yes,” Lucian said shortly as he removed the bandanna that had covered the lower part of his face. The rubber gloves and apron followed, leaving him clad in only the muck-covered black jeans.
“Okay. But why does that mean I should stay out of the sun?”
“Because any exposure to sunlight causes damage,” he explained, jaw tight. Turning his back to the sink, he added, “Your body will use extra blood and resources to try to repair that damage, which will slow down your turning. It’s better to avoid it until your turning is done.”
“Oh, I see,” Leigh said slowly, and he noticed her eyes seemed preoccupied with roving over his bare chest. She thought his grumpiness was cute and seemed fascinated with his chest. Lucian found himself straightening, his chest puffing up like a male peacock preening for her admiration. Disgusted with himself, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms self-consciously over his naked chest. Leigh blinked as he ruined her view. She glanced quickly to his face, flushing guiltily on realizing she’d been caught ogling him. In the next moment that expression was replaced with recognition.
“You are the third man from the kitchen,” she said.
Lucian merely grunted an acknowledgment and turned to finish rinsing the bucket, then put it away in the cupboard under the sink. The floor was streaked from the dirty water, but he’d done enough. He’d call in a service to clean it properly when they opened... which was only in a couple hours he noted, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall.
Lucian supposed that meant he’d have to stay awake awhile yet. The idea wasn’t a pleasing one. Other than two short catnaps, he’d been awake since six o’clock the night before last. It was now just after six o’clock in the morning, almost twenty-four hours after they’d hit Morgan’s house in Kansas, thirty-six since he’d slept. He desperately needed sleep. He also wanted a nice long soak in a tub to remove the grimy feel coating his skin.
“If this isn’t some curse, what is it?” Leigh asked, slipping off the table to follow when he headed out of the kitchen.
Lucian heaved a sigh as he pushed through the kitchen door. He understood she had questions, but he was too tired to be bothered with them. It was time to try again to find someone else to deal with her. He began running through a list of people in his head, trying to decide whom to enlist.
There was Thomas, but the little shit still wasn’t answering his phone. Marguerite was in Europe. Lucern and Kate were in New York, as were Bastien and Terri. That left Etienne and Rachel, Lissianna and Greg, and Thomas’s sister, Jeanne Louise.
Lucian frowned over his choices. Lissianna would have been his first choice if she weren’t pregnant. Very pregnant. Lissianna was his favorite. She’d proven herself less prone to being cowed by him than her brothers. The girl had even yelled at him a time or two. He respected her for that, and smiled to himself now at the memory.
No, he wouldn’t bother Lissianna this close to giving birth to his first grandniece or nephew. As for Etienne and Rachel... well, Rachel still hadn’t forgiven him for threatening to have her terminated when she refused to do what they asked when she’d first been turned and got involved with Etienne. Anytime he found himself in the same room as the volatile redhead, she glared at him like he was the devil incarnate. He’d rather not have her filling Leigh’s head with nonsense about him.
That left Jeanne Louise.
“Lucian?”
He paused on the stairs and glanced back with surprise. It was the first time Leigh had spoken his name. He hadn’t even known she knew it, but supposed she overheard it while he was talking to Marguerite on the speaker phone. Her soft voice speaking his name caused an odd fluttering in his chest. Pushing away the sensation, he raised his eyebrows in question.
Leigh paused several steps below him and rephrased the question he hadn’t answered. “What are we if not cursed?”
His gaze slid over her in the over large terry-cloth robe. She was short, almost a foot shorter than he. She was also a bundle of luscious curves, he noted with an interest he hadn’t experienced in quite a while. Disturbed by the effect she was having on him, he turned and continued upstairs. “Immortals,” he told her again.
“Immortals,” Leigh echoed, her mind wrapping itself around the word. It was the second time he’d said it. She didn’t think he meant immortals like in the movie Highlander, but it didn’t really answer her question. It didn’t explain what she now was. Or how they were the way they were if it wasn’t a curse.
Leigh glanced up, mouth open to ask for clarification, but Lucian had continued upstairs and was now disappearing along the hall. Scowling, she hurried after the half-naked man, catching up as he entered the room next to the one she’d woken in.
“But how are we immortals?” she asked as she caught the door before it swung shut in her face. She took several steps into the room before stopping, her gaze jumping nervously to the big bed against the wall, then away.
Lucian didn’t seem surprised that she’d trailed him into the room. He just shook his head and moved to the phone.
“Well?” she asked, growing impatient.
“I’m getting you the answer.” Lucian picked up the phone and pressed several buttons until—presumably—he got a dial tone. This time it wasn’t over speaker phone, she noted, as he punched in a number from memory. They both stood waiting as he pressed the phone to his ear, but after enough time had passed for a couple dozen rings to have sounded without it being picked up, he hung up and punched in another number, then waited again.
Leigh shifted impatiently, but made herself wait. It seemed to her that he should know the answer to the question, but it was obvious he wanted someone else to do the explaining. Perhaps there were some embarrassing issues to it, she thought, then glanced to Lucian as he hung up again and tried once more.
“Marguerite?” Lucian said finally, sounding terribly relieved.
Leigh peered at him with surprise. From the earlier conversation she’d listened in on, she knew that this Marguerite was in Europe. Why was he calling her?
“No, no, Julius is fine.” Lucian scowled with irritation. “No I—Marguerite, I just called because the girl is asking questions... Well, I thought you could explain things to her.”
Lucian pulled the phone away from his ear as Marguerite’s irritated voice buzzed back through the phone loud enough for Leigh to hear. His mouth tightened, then he turned away from her, put the phone back to his ear and said, “I know it’s not like explaining men’s knees to a teenage daughter... Menses,” he corrected quickly. “Whatever, but—”
He paused and slapped his hand impatiently against his leg as he listened, then said, “Yes, of course I know you’re in Europe, I called you remember... Yes, yes, I know it’s long distance. I’ll pay for the damned call.”
Lucian stiffened as he listened to whatever Marguerite was saying, and Leigh found her gaze traveling over the tensed muscles of his naked back. The moment he’d removed the bandanna from his face in the kitchen, she had recognized him as the third man from the kitchen. It had been a relief, actually. At least she’d put the right face on the man in her fantasy.
Leigh rolled her eyes at her own thoughts.
“There are more important issues here than your waking wet dreams in the shower,” she reprimanded herself under her breath. Really, her thinking seemed terribly scattered since she’d woken up. She had to wonder if it was a side effect of the change. She still had no idea where she was, or who he was... Why was he helping her? Or was he even trying to help her? How would all of this affect her life now? Would she find herself suddenly biting waiters instead of tipping them?
That thought gave her pause. She couldn’t imagine biting anyone, and briefly considered she might, instead, be reduced to biting someone’s little fluffy white dog like the character in the Anne Rice movie, but she couldn’t imagine doing that either. Dogs were so cute... and what if they had fleas? And, really, they rolled around in the grass and dirt, who knew what they had in their fur?