Blood Therapy (Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist) (35 page)

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for handling Michael.”

“Hey! What do you mean, ‘handling Michael’? I’m not something to be handled!”

“Come on, fuck-wad. Let’s go and set some ground rules.” Alan strode toward the door, opened it, and waited.

Michael straightened his hair and rose to his feet. “Okay. But we need to talk tomorrow, Kismet.”

The silence after they left was wonderful.

Feeling numb and wanting nothing more complicated than a shower, I went to the bathroom and turned on the hot spray. It had been that kind of day. Incredibly thirsty, I pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and chugged it. Peeling off my clothes as I went, I left them where they fell, entered the steamy bathroom, closed the door, and stepped into the shower.

I washed my body and hair, standing under the water so long my skin pruned. The steam was thick enough to ski on.

“Kismet?”

My knees went soft.
Oh my God! What now?
I held onto the side of the shower to keep myself upright.

“Do not be afraid. It is I—Devereux.”

I squinted through the moisture on the glass, wiped my hand across it, and saw a vague form. “Devereux? Is it really you?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly elated, I started to open the door, then hesitated, and steeled myself. He’d been pretty angry the last time we saw each other—the whole Alan thing. Why would he come here after that? “Why are you in my bathroom?”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“Devereux?”

“Yes. I am still here. I simply could not think of an easy answer to your question. But if you will come out, I will try to explain.”

His voice sounded strange. Subdued. Sad, even. That made me nervous.

I opened the shower door and stepped out. He handed me a towel.

“Thank you.” I dried myself, then wrapped my hair in the towel, and selected another to cover my body.

He opened the door, and the steam escaped, mimicking the output of the fog machine at the Crypt.

Stalling for time, and because I was sure it was necessary, I squeezed toothpaste on my brush and cleaned my teeth. Then I swished mouthwash, shifting my eyes every few seconds to where he stood, watching me. If I hadn’t known he was in the room, I’d never have been able to sense him. There’s no stillness like vampire stillness.

Devereux shows up, and suddenly I want good breath? What does that mean?

And after thinking that, I remembered that I hadn’t practiced the hum since right before my aborted presentation earlier that evening, so I went through the steps and gave myself some small sense of being in control of my brain.

“It is odd not to be able to read you,” Devereux said in that sad voice, moving to look at me in a clear spot in the mirror. “I feel separated—abandoned.”

“You feel abandoned?” That surprised me. I’d never heard him make such a deeply personal remark. I felt my eyes tearing as I stared at his beautiful reflection and blinked to clear the moisture. Why did that touch me so?

“Yes. I had not admitted, even to myself, how important my connection to you had been. How it made me feel alive and gave my existence meaning.”

He was speaking in the past tense, and my heart was breaking.

We stared at each other in the glass for several seconds before I broke eye contact.

“I see you are wearing the pentagram necklace.” He looked at me. “Where is the cross? Why did you remove it?”

I looked down between my breasts where the cross used to be. “I always take it off when I shower. But you’ve reminded me.” I moved my hand over the counter, retrieved the cross, and held it out to him. “I have been meaning to give it back to you.”

“Why? Do you not want any part of me close to you?”

“What?”
What is up with him?
“Why would you say that? No. I just don’t feel comfortable wearing a fortune around my neck. Plus it didn’t seem to work very well—I’ve been upset lots of times, and you never came.”

“I am sorry for that. Whatever Anne did to your brain and your energy field appears to have affected the cross as well. Even magic fails occasionally. But please keep it for now.” He looped it around my neck.

I tightened the towel over my breasts, then walked through the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he joined me.

“Has something bad happened?” I turned to him, watching the soft light play over his platinum hair. “Is that why you’re here? Is there some news about Colin?”

“No.” He brought his blue-green gaze to mine. “I did not come for any reason but my own. There is no word on Colin yet, and I have not captured Lucifer.” He said the last five words with less energy, as if even speaking them was exhausting. He studied the wall in front of him.

I didn’t want to rush him, so I remained quiet. Apparently something important was going on. I used the time to appreciate his perfect profile and practice the hum.

“I have existed for more than eight hundred years. For most of that time, I have explored outer knowledge. I studied all the great philosophies, learned the wisdom of the world, became a Master in every sense of the word … except one.”

“And what sense would that be?”

He turned to me, his expression serious. “Until I met you, it never occurred to me that the inner world—the emotional realm—might be an untapped universe. Like many men throughout history, I valued logic over feelings. Rationality over empathy. I devoted no time to learning about the depths of myself, my patterns, my fears. In fact, I repressed them. Denied them. I had been taught that a Master never showed or acknowledged his fears.” He paused.

“And now?”
Whoa. Where’s he going with this?

“Now I realize I was incomplete. I had disregarded the most fascinating and worthwhile arena of all. And thanks to you, I have been forced to leap into that void. To face myself.” He laughed.

“What’s funny?”
Yikes. This is even stranger than usual—is he really having a meltdown?

The corners of his lips curved up gently. “I was merely thinking how grateful I am to you for holding my feet to the fire, so to speak.”

“Devereux, are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself today. Or maybe I don’t really know your true self well enough even to compare.”

“Yes. I am
okay
. Maybe a new version of
okay
that will take me a while to get used to, but definitely
okay
.” He laughed again. “Even using the word
okay
is different for me. It is so American. So … you.” He rose and held his hands out to me.

As he stood, my eyes trailed down his body and went wide. He was wearing blue jeans. European-cut, designer jeans, to be sure, but jeans nonetheless. And a black Crypt T-shirt. My brain boggled. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him dress so casually.

Smiling, he tugged me to my feet. “Do you approve? I thought it was time for me to see why my jeans company is so successful.” He looked down at himself. “I have to admit they are very comfortable, but they do not repel blood half as well as leather.”

Surprised by his sudden playfulness, I opened my mouth and let it hang open.

He pushed my chin up with a finger, closing my lips. Then he loosened the towel around my hair and pulled it away, tumbling my damp hair down my back. He looked into my eyes. “I am so sorry I did not understand the importance of what you were trying to tell me about the harm I was doing to your brain. I have since investigated—and have spoken with Anne—and it appears you are correct. Without protection, your brain would have been altered even further, and you would eventually have lost yourself. I also understand that you have taken steps, which I completely support, to rectify the situation.”

“I’m glad you understand. It was upsetting to me that you didn’t seem to care.”

“I always cared, but it has been impossible for me ever to admit I did not have all the answers, that I could not fix everything. That felt like failure. So it was easier to stick my head in the sand, as the saying goes. Especially in the midst of all the other problems I am currently dealing with.”

“Problems?”
Is he finally going to tell me about Lucifer?

He pulled me close and pressed my head against his chest. “Despite my futile attempts to keep you from hearing about my difficulties, I am aware that you have been informed. Repeatedly.”

It was odd hearing his words echo through his chest, so I raised my head to look at him. “I wish you would’ve felt you could tell me yourself. Maybe I could’ve helped.”

He still isn’t saying the maniac’s name.

“Perhaps. I was under the impression that it was my job to protect you from such things, that I had to resolve the issue myself in order to keep the respect of my coven and all the other vampires in the world.”

“All the other vampires? Really? You’re responsible to all the vampires in the world? How can anyone deal with such an outrageous burden? Did you actually volunteer for that? Are you some kind of Vampire Master of the Universe?”

“No. That has never been one of my titles,” he answered with his usual seriousness, totally missing the reference to the old comic book and movie franchise. His eyes locked onto mine. His energy was so intense, my stomach fluttered and my mouth went dry. “What’s going on, Devereux? What aren’t you saying?” I stepped back so I could study his face.

He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “I know you do not wish to be with me, that you have turned to Alan, but I have to ask: now that I cannot harm your brain and your control has been restored, do you miss me at all?” He sounded like a very small child.

“Of course I’ve missed you.” I gave him a look that I hoped conveyed the truth of my words. “Alan and I are friends. Our relationship is very different from what you and I have shared. I don’t want to have to choose between you—you each play a unique role in my life. And if you think we had sex last night, you’re wrong. I was sick from drinking too much, and he stayed to keep me company.”

He stared at me for a few seconds then kissed my forehead. “I am glad to hear that.” His voice went soft. “Did you ever have any true feelings for me?” I’d never seen him so vulnerable.

I briefly considered giving a vague answer, so as not to hurt his feelings, but then decided to forge ahead with the truth. “That’s the million-dollar question. I’m still sorting it out.”

“What do you mean?”

“After Anne removed all the vampire influence from my brain, and I was no longer unduly affected by your energy, I didn’t know how much of my attraction to you had been caused by
what
you are, rather than
who
you are. I needed to stay away from you so I could figure it out.”

“And have you ‘figured it out’?”

“Not totally, but judging by how happy I was to discover it was you in the bathroom—and not only because you weren’t Lucifer come to finally finish me off—and how much my body is still sending out the welcome committee even though I’m still in charge of my mind, I’d say most of my attraction to you is authentic.”

“That is good to know. Perhaps we could begin again. Would that be possible?” He pressed his lips to mine in a sweet kiss, then took it deeper.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on tight. I really had missed him.

We broke the kiss and I stepped back, looking into his gorgeous eyes. “Definitely possible.” And as if to underscore the point, my towel chose that moment to fall to the floor.

He raked his gaze down my body and smiled wickedly. “I could not have planned that better myself.”

I brushed my lips against his. “Are you sure you didn’t put a spell on the towel?” My answering smile morphed into a jaw-cracking yawn that made my eyes water. “Wow. Yikes. Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.” Then I yawned again. The long, hot shower must have done me in.

He raised a brow, and stroked a finger along my lip. “You are exhausted. Our new beginning can wait a little while. Sleep is what you need now.”

No doubt he was right, but I didn’t want him to leave. Being with him felt good. And we had a lot more to talk about. “I guess I
am
tired,” I admitted, yawning yet again. “But will you lie in bed with me until I fall asleep?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

I crawled into bed, burrowed under the covers, and watched his hair flow like a silky curtain as he leaned forward to remove his boots.

“Shall I turn off the lights?” He moved toward the lamp.

As nice as it would have been to keep enjoying the view of his amazing face and body, my eyes were heavy, and I could already feel myself drifting away. “Yes, please.”

He clicked off all the lights, flipped the deadbolt on the door, then slid into the bed, spooning me from behind. He pulled me against him, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “Sleep.”

I woke up to a sun-filled room, feeling rested and inexplicably happy. My first thought was of Devereux, and my lips curved into a smile all by themselves. The clock on the nightstand showed 9:20 a.m. I’d slept longer than I meant to, but apparently my body had needed the downtime. No wonder, since everything in my life had been such a mess for the last few days. Hell, for the last few months.