Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 (42 page)

“Please.”

He whipped out a phone, punched a speed dial. After a few terse words, he slid it away. “He does, but he’s going first to Vienna to make a delivery. I’m texting you his number in Wales. You’ll probably be able to call him within the week.”

“But I’m leaving for New York Thursday.” And after that I’d be neck-deep in my new life.

They exchanged a glance. Nixie said, “He might call before then.”

I’d be able to speak to Glynn in a week. He might even call me before then.

But the way he’d torn out of here didn’t give me a lot of hope. Didn’t suggest he’d leave the only home he knew for a potential new home in me, or even a visit.

Thursday marched closer and closer, and still no word from Glynn. In the vacuum, I chafed. Fretted. Dreamed up all sorts of possible scenarios, from Glynn declaring his undying (heh) love to him snubbing me with a terse “I never cared” to his simply not calling me at all.

Wednesday night I barely slept. When Thursday came, I was awake to see it. Still no phone call. My suitcase and instruments were all packed. Before dawn, I sat on my bed and stared at my posters. India, Japan, New York.

Part of me wanted to stay in Meiers Corners just because that was where Glynn knew to find me.

But my dreams were in New York.

Glynn had gone on with his life. It was time for me to go on with mine.

I stared at my ticket. Maybe I should stay for my parents’ sake. They were strong, but even with the money I sent home they’d never be able to hire help as good as me.

Then Mom and Pop came up to say good-bye, and even that excuse disappeared when I found out they weren’t as helpless as I thought.

“I love you.” I hugged Mom. “Don’t worry. With the show, I’ll have plenty of money to send you guys.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mom said. “Just enjoy New York.”

“It is good you have a shot at your dreams,” Pop said. “Play well.”

 
“What?” I looked from one to the other. “You’ve said for years that I couldn’t leave. That everything I needed was here. Now you’re encouraging me to go?”

“These ‘dreams’ you had before were nothing but pipes.” Mom waved a dismissive hand at my posters. “You were not listening to your heart. ”

“I had ambition,” I countered.

“
Nein
,” my father said. “Ambition is hard work, making things happen.
You
were running away.”

“Now you are finally listening to your heart,” my mother said.

“But Mom. You, most of all, hated that I wanted to leave. You did everything you could to stop me.”

She smiled, the added soft touch of hand making it a little sad. “I didn’t want you to make my mistakes. Sometimes you
want
career or dreams. Sometimes you run for
want
so fast that you miss what you really
need
. Follow your heart, Junior. It will tell you what you need.”

“Junior.” Pop took my other hand, squeezed it briefly. “Be the best person you can be. And be happy.”

I sat slowly on my suitcase, staring at them. At these people I’d known all my life—or thought I knew. All these years I’d thought my parents needed me in their small pond, keeping me from becoming the big fish I knew I could be.

They were just waiting for me to figure out what being a big fish meant.

It was a bit freaky to realize they’d understood me all along, maybe better than I did.

“Of course we expect you to come home to visit,” my mother added briskly.

“And we know you’ll send a little money home,” my father said. Then he hugged me and added, “But most important, be safe and happy.”

“Now you must go.” Mom made shooing motions. “Or you will be late.”

I had to go. Glynn, if he came back, wouldn’t find me here.

Follow my heart… If I truly followed my heart, it would take me on the swim of my life. Maybe I could use a kayak.

Instead I picked up my suitcase and instruments, and reluctantly headed for the airport.

Entr’acte

Glynn pushed his way through the masses at O’Hare, thought about turning on his phone but decided against it yet again. Why? It wasn’t like Junior would have called.

He’d been packed in airborne sardine cans for most of the last three-plus days, racing through his mission to get to Wales, only to turn around almost immediately for Chicago. Even with his preternatural vampire resiliency, his butt was dragging.

Awareness struck him like Elias’s size twenty boot in the face. His taste buds sang and his nose quivered. He snapped straight, all fatigue gone.

Junior was here.

He breathed deep. Luxuriated in the awareness, until its significance struck him. No one knew he was returning. What was Junior doing here at the airport?

For a moment he dreamed she was flying to Wales, yearning for him as much as he was for her. But no, she was probably just headed to New York.

She had New York and she had Meiers Corners. She’d never consider Glynn her duty or her dream.

It was why he’d finally given in and come back. He’d fought his attraction because he didn’t want to give up his home for anybody. Fought until he was so miserable he’d been forced to admit he’d give up anything for her.

At Heathrow, waiting in a private vampire lounge, he’d realized that wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t giving up his dreams of a home, not for her or anyone.

But how to tell her so that she’d understand? He’d tried to find the right words the whole trip. Nothing had come. Now he was back and she was here and his time had run out.

He closed his eyes and located her in his mind. With the ease of centuries, he used the blood-memory to single her essence out of a thousand beating hearts, her smell/taste his burning beacon of joy. He opened his eyes and ran.

He saw her moments later, winding her way through the crowds. He couldn’t help himself. He shouted her name.

She looked up. Their eyes met and it was like a fist to his gut. Elias’s, as oversized and iron-hard as his boots.

They stood frozen in time. And then she was running toward him and he toward her—

A flash of scarlet intervened. A hand planted on his chest and pushed with inhuman strength. He stopped more out of surprise than anything.

“Hello, Glynn.” An exotically beautiful face smiled up at him, green eyes glittering.

“Camille.” He stepped back with a growl vibrating up from his belly, ripe with his disgust and anger.

“Now, now, darling. Is that any way to greet your old flame?” She touched a red nail playfully to his chest. He remembered how quickly her touch could turn from play to pain.

His eyes flicked behind her as he tried to calculate how much danger Junior might be in. She was still a few feet away but closing fast.

Camille growled. “Don’t pay attention to your whore, Glynn. It will only make things worse for her. And you.”

His eyes snapped back to Camille’s exotic face. How could he have thought it beautiful? “Lay one finger on Junior and I’ll destroy you.”

Camille’s red nail dug deep. “You’re not in any position to make threats, Gly—”

Junior slapped Camille on the back. “Hiya, v-bitch. How’s it goin’?”

Camille’s finger slipped and her nail broke. “Why, you…” She spun, nails sharpening into claws.

Junior danced out of range with a grin. “I mean, how’s it goin’ considering your club’s nothing but rubble and the mayor won’t give you another building permit and Julian’s tied your lawyers up for months?” Her normally sweet face was lit with a smug expression that Glynn could only think of as
owned
.

Camille’s eyes flashed back to Glynn. Her smile turned distinctly predatory. “How interesting you brought that up, human. That’s why I’m here.”

Glynn heaved a mental sigh. He’d rather not have Junior involved in whatever shit Camille was about to dish out. But telling his Junior to back off wasn’t smart. It would only make her more determined to stay.

So he snagged Junior by the neck, tugged her into his side and sheltered her under his arm before challenging the other vampire. “That’s right, Camille. Why don’t you tell us your oh-so-nefarious scheme?”

He hated the little smile on the vampire’s plump, glistening lips. Hated even more the triumphant twinkle in her eyes. “It’s simple, darling. I have your tchotchkes.”

Junior sucked in a breath. He soothed her shoulder. “They survived the explosion? So?”

“So if you go back to Wales and stay there—and I’ll know if you don’t—I’ll send them to you after an appropriate interval. If not—” She ground her palms together then made a
poof
.

Under his arm Junior started struggling. “You bitch!”

Though he knew Junior had martial arts training, he rather thought from the way she squirmed that if he let her go, she might have tried to scratch Camille’s eyes out.

Camille’s smile thinned. “Careful, human cunt.”

Glynn growled, short and savage.

“Excuse me, human female. Remember, you’re in Lestat territory now. We have minions everywhere.”

Junior snorted. “Ask me if I care.”

Glynn glanced down. She stood with her chest puffed out, her eyes blazing gold. He was so proud of her. He couldn’t let her take Camille’s wrath. “Let me get this straight. You want me to move to Wales, permanently. I get a home, something I’ve always wanted,
and
my mementos returned.”

“That’s it.” Camille’s full-lipped smile returned. “A win-win.”

“Except Elias loses one of his best trackers and bodyguards. The Alliance loses a knight.”

“A rook, darling.” Camille’s lips plumped fuller as her smile turned coquettish. “You’re a more valuable piece than a knight.”

“Elias doesn’t consider us chessmen, Camille. How did you find me anyway? Today, here at the airport?”

“Why, darling. The blood scent/taste, of course.” She flashed eyes at Junior. “You remember our bedroom romps got a little…strenuous.”

“We were never
that
intimate, Camille. Nosferatu has an eye on O’Hare traffic, doesn’t he?”

“Pooh.” She moued. “Well, it doesn’t matter how I found you. I have your little knickknacks. I hold the cards. Either you make your home permanently elsewhere, or I take the things you care about most…” Her eyes wandered again to Junior. “…and destroy them.”

Glynn’s gums flared hot, his fangs fighting to descend. “If you even touch Junior—”

“Darling, no.” Camille fell a step back. “Your tchotchkes only. I wouldn’t dream of threatening your little whore.” Yet her gaze was predatory, resting on Junior.

“Whore?” Glynn’s vision went red, his talons throbbed to extend. “For the last time, that is not an acceptable term.”

Camille took another step back. “Fine. Your little
friend
. I won’t touch her.” Her chin kicked up. “But make no mistake, I’ll happily destroy your pipe and dragon, your cookie cutter and the child’s sweetly bronzed shoe.”

Glynn smiled. “Go ahead. Destroy them.”

Under his arm, Junior started struggling. “Glynn, you can’t. They mean everything to you.”

He took in her pained expression, wanted to kiss the frown off her face, kiss her forehead, her eyes, her lips and never stop.

But this first. “You think you’re offering me the world, don’t you, Camille? Everything I want—not only my symbols of home, but a permanent home. But I was just in Wales, the only place I’ve ever known peace, and you know what? I enjoyed it for all of two minutes. Then I thought about showing Wales to Junior. Of taking her the places I’d been, of us seeing all the places I haven’t been yet. And then I was thinking only about
her
. I even have a tchotchke for her, see?” He took the clarinet reed from his pocket.

Camille frowned.

“But this isn’t a replacement for Junior.” He stared deeply into Camille’s eyes, trying to make her truly understand, trying to reach even a ghost of the fledgling she’d been. “None of those things, the pipe, the dragon and the shoe—not even the cookie press—is a replacement for what I lost. My childhood was stolen from me. I’ll never replace it. I can only face the fact and go on.”

Camille sneered. “You’re a fool.”

He shook his head. Camille’s exotic beauty had intrigued him at one time, even captivated him, ensnaring his imagination and his cock. It was nothing compared to Junior, who’d invaded him heart and soul. “All my life I’ve wanted a home, a place to feel safe and secure. I wasn’t going to give up dreams of a home, not for Junior or anyone.

“But I don’t have to, you see. Home is where I can be safe, and if that doesn’t describe Junior, I don’t know what does. She’s my home.” He crushed the reed in his hand. “You can keep the rest.”

It was a brave speech. His mementos had grounded him for a long, long time. He’d miss them.

But they were only symbols, not a real life, one of the things he’d realized in Wales.

So with his heart and soul, his
real
life, still secure under his arm, he turned from Camille and from his past, and walked away.

Chapter Eighteen