Mercy's Destiny: Montgomery's Vampires Trilogy (Book #3) (Montgomery's Vampires Series) (7 page)

I wondered if Joseph actually
was
reading my mind. Some vampires could, though they usually they made it known. I doubted the divulgence was out of politeness, but more because vampires liked to boast. Having such a gift in the vampire world was akin to a human having a Nobel Prize—if you’ve got it, flaunt it.

I made a motion like I was wiping sweat off my forehead. “Shew.” I looked away as Joseph hooked everything up and tapped my vein. He positioned the bag on the table so my blood would flow into it with ease. I was impressed by how gentle he was.

“Sit back and relax,” he said. “This will take some time.”

I doubted I could ever be comfortable in Joseph’s presence. “Okay,” I smiled, and then tilted my head toward the refrigerator. “Since I can’t get up, please feel free to help yourself to more blood if you’d like another drink.”

“Will do.” Causally, he mentioned, “It’s funny, isn’t it, how your blood has zero effect on me?”

Joseph had drunk from me while Robert and I were at the VGO headquarters. I’d asked him to do it, to prove that my blood could turn vampires human temporarily. My blood, however, hadn’t changed the Scotsman, and I was nearly lynch-mobbed by a group of angry vampires because of it. Thankfully, my blood
did
work on the other volunteer, a lady vamp from Japan, or else I would have been dead.

“I wonder why that is,” I said offhandedly.

“The VGO are trying to figure that out. Leopold Sorin isn’t the only vampire who can build a lab.”

I was going to ask what they were going to do to Leopold to punish him for making the serum, but then I decided that I really didn’t want to know. I found myself doing that a lot when it came to vampires—choosing to stay ignorant about their happenings. I slept better that way.

“How is the woman who took my blood?” I asked.

“Emi? She’s great. She had a pleasant human holiday in Majorca. Even got a tan. But she still prefers vampirism.”

“I imagine,” I said. It was promising that the VGO were doing lab tests. If they acquired a way to synthesize my blood, maybe they’d stop taking mine. But, then again, if the VGO no longer needed me . . . What then?

Joseph and I made polite small talk about his flight (long) and the current weather in Scotland (stormy). I loved listening to him speak, because of that gorgeous accent of his. The first time I’d ever heard Joseph’s voice on the phone, I thought that he sounded like he was singing to me. He sounded the same today. It was kind of soothing.

And erotic.

Robert-Robert-Robert
, I reminded myself.

“So, how long are you planning on staying in town?” I asked. “You aren’t heading back tonight, are you? You must not be, if you’ve got cold storage—unless there’s one in your plane?”

His chin-length hair bounced as he shook his head. “No, I’m staying in town for about a week.”

“So long?”

“Yes. I’m staying for a wedding.”

“Get out of here!” I exclaimed. “Don’t tell me . . . Is it Jerome Bellamy?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”

“I’m going to that wedding!” I said excitedly. Now I’d have at least one acquaintance at the reception, since I’d be most likely be attending it solo. “I didn’t realize that you knew him.”

“I don’t,” he said. “But when a vampire gets married—especially to a human—the VGO like to have a member present.”

“Well, Jerry’s great. I haven’t met his fiancé, but if Jerry’s getting hitched to him, he must be pretty wonderful.” I did not mention that Jerry had taken out a VGO assassin while we were in Bali, saving my life and Robert’s. This was need-to-know information, and Joseph certainly did not need to know this. He’d probably been the one who’d deployed the assassin in the first place.

Joseph asked, “How do you know Jerome? Or is it Jerry?”

“It’s both,” I answered. “Jerry to his friends, but he likes Jerome also.”

“Ah.”

I explained that I used to work as a vampire decoy, and that Jerry and I had formed a bond when I accompanied him to an art show.

My heart sank when Joseph asked, “Should I expect to see both you and Robert at the wedding?”

The whole creating a cover story thing was really starting to be a thorn in my side. I could commiserate with David; having to lie on the spot totally sucked. I’d never been a good liar. I was more of a lie by omission kind of girl.

I tried not to sound flustered as I answered, “Oh, no, he’s not going with me.”
Would
Robert actually have enough nerve to show his face at the wedding with Serena on his arm? That would kill me. I would look at the two of them, holding hands and being all kissy-face, and my heart would stop. Or I’d die of humiliation. I would literally
die
if I saw the two of them together.

Or I would kill the both of
them.

Joseph scratched the bridge of his broad, masculine nose. “Really? Why not?” I nearly yelped when his cool fingertips tapped the top of my left hand. “And while we are on the subject, why aren’t you wearing an engagement ring, if you and Robert are engaged?”

A vampire didn’t live to be Joseph’s age by being oblivious. These were all very valid questions. A trifle personal, but valid—though Joseph
had
just stuck a needle in my arm, so maybe he felt we were tight like that. And, although Joseph was technically ‘the enemy,’ I felt myself drawn to him. This wasn’t purely because he was sexy as hell. (Although, that didn’t hurt.) There was something about him that I liked—as in, I’d like to go out for beers and pizza with him, if he were human.

“Well . . .”
Don’t say it! If you know what’s good for you, you will not get personal with Joseph. He’s VGO!
“Uh . . .”

He teased, “I’m not asking you to explain the meaning of life, Mercy.”

I thought of three excuses I could give. One:
Robert will be out of town.
Two:
Robert doesn’t like Jerry’s fiancé.
And three:
Robert will have to work.

I could have even told Joseph to mind his own damn business (though I positively would not have phrased it that way). Yet the way Joseph’s earnest chocolate eyes were taking me in—a look a trusting golden retriever might give its owner—compelled me to spare him the bullshit. And before I had a chance to firmly clamp my teeth down on my tongue, I was saying, “Actually, Joseph, Robert and I are sort of taking a break right now. From each other.”

He looked around. “But you—”

“Yes, I know, I’m still living in his house. It’s very fresh.”
As in last night fresh—a loaf of bread would have taken longer to mold,
I did not add
.
I fought hard not to ask Joseph if he’d heard from Serena, which would have made me look both presumptuous and desperate. It wasn’t my place to quiz Joseph about other VGO members. We were being friendly, but by no means did I want to push things.

I steeled myself for the barrage of meddlesome questions I was certain he was going to throw my way, the way a human would. People can be so nosey when it comes to other people’s breakups. If you ask me, unless a person’s name has the words “my best friend” in front of it, they shouldn’t be asking about your heartache, am I right?

Joseph beheld me calmly and said, “Would you like to be my date for the wedding?”

I opened my mouth to outline all the reasons why that would be a bad idea, the most obvious one being that Robert and I had just broken up.

Joseph held up a hand. “Before you answer, I want you to know that I don’t mean ‘date’ in the traditional sense. I only mean that it would be practical if you and I went together. I imagine there won’t be too many vampires I will know at this wedding, as it is being held in San Francisco and I am from Edinburgh. And if they do know me, they’ll probably avoid me like a leper. Nothing puts a vamp on edge like a VGO member lurking in the room.”

I had to chuckle at that.

“And . . . okay-okay-okay,” he continued sheepishly, “I am
a man
, Mercy. I cannot deny that I find you attractive. It would bolster my ego tenfold, having such a beautiful woman on my arm.” He ran his fingers through his thick tresses. His eyes twinkled and he grinned, “And let me assure you, I won’t ‘put the moves’ on you, as you humans say.”

I tried to convince myself that it would be smart if I said yes, as being in the good graces of the VGO could only help my cause. But, deep down, I
wanted
to go to the wedding with Joseph. Whether it was because I was still stinging from Robert’s rebuffing or if I just plum wanted to be by Joseph’s side, I didn’t know.

Whatever the reason, I found myself grinning back: “Sure. Why not?”

7

In true tradition of a Scotsman, Joseph dressed for the wedding in a formal kilt.

It was quite a visual treat, opening the door to find him standing there decked out in tartan. He looked fantastic. I’d never gotten to go out with a man who was wearing a kilt before—

Not that I was “going out” with Joseph, I reminded myself.

He’d tamed his wild hair with a light application of gel. It was still slightly unruly, finger-combed into a style I’d describe as rugged-urban. And he smelled good, too: mannish and sharp—mint and cognac, mixed with worn leather—like how I imagined old school handmade cake soap would have smelled straight out of its paper wrapping . . . Suddenly, I was conjuring an image of Joseph up in the Scottish Highlands, surrounded by lush greenery and cloaked in ethereal mist. He was bathing in a stream, this naked Highland Joseph (sounds like an action figure, doesn’t it, Highland Joseph?), using that brick of cake soap to lather away splatters of mud from his chiseled torso. Submerged from the waist down, his pale skin was rosy and goose-fleshed from the coolness of the water. He dipped his head under water and then tossed his hair back, rainbow-colored water drops splattering away from his crown. He swaggered towards the shore, his lower body becoming more and more visible with each step, water trickling down the edges of his hipbones, down, down, down toward his—

“May I come in?” Joseph asked. He was studying me like he suspected that I’d been huffing superglue prior to his arrival. Maybe that’s what I should have done, since being sober was prompting me to behave like an alley cat in heat.

Why did I always have to answer the door to him like that? I stepped aside.
Get ahold of yourself, girl!

“Yes. I’m sorry. Please, do come in.” I wondered if Joseph wore cologne, or if that was his natural scent. Perhaps he thought cologne was too—

Stop it right now, Mercy!

I led Joseph toward the kitchen and offered him a glass of blood. I jumped when the chair he pulled back from the table screeched.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a grin. He seemed amused by my nervousness.

And just why was I so nervous? And why did I feel like a child rooting around in the cookie jar, anxious that I’d be caught with crumbs on my mouth? It wasn’t like I was cheating on Robert, now was it? (It’s hard to cheat when you don’t even know if you’re still in a relationship.) And it’s not like I was planning on
touching
the guy. Honest.

And it would behoove me to keep the VGO happy, right?

Mm-hmm, you can tell yourself whatever you need to,
my inner critic snorted.
But don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this
.

I flapped a hand and tittered, “I don’t know
why
I’m so on edge this evening!” Actually, I could think of about a dozen explanations for why I was nervous, all of them beginning with:
I’m on edge because of Joseph’s eyes/hair/body . . .

I busied myself with fetching Joseph’s drink. He made polite comments about how nice I looked, and then I told him he looked nice, too, leaving out that I thought he’d look right at home in a highland spring. He asked for specifics about the wedding—attendance numbers, human to vampire ratio, etcetera—and inquired what I’d gotten Jerry and Tim for a wedding gift.

“The gift isn’t only from me,” I told him. “It’s from Robert, too. I guess.”

I scowled after saying Robert’s name. Almost a week, and still no call, text, or email. I’d awakened each morning hopeful, certain that
this
would be the morning that Robert would finally be in touch. Then, when I saw that he hadn’t made contact, I would scamper into the bathroom, feeling nauseous. Losing Robert hadn’t just sickened my heart, but also my stomach.

I’d pitifully carried the phone around with me everywhere, even into the bathroom, sealing it in a plastic bag when I showered. Every time it rang, my heart plummeted south to my stomach. It was usually Liz, calling to update me on the David situation. David, like Robert, was finished with his current relationship. But, unlike Robert, at least David had gone through the trouble of providing
his
lady tangible proof that it was officially over: divorce papers. Poor Liz was devastated.

I still had two days to wait before getting others involved in the search for Robert, though I was beginning to falter on my decision to ask for outside help. The biggest reason for this was the money sitting in my bank account. Or, as I had referenced it to Liz, the one million ways Robert had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me.

“So . . . What is it? The gift?” Joseph prompted, once again giving me his
Have you been huffing superglue?
stare.

I blinked. “Sorry, I got lost in my own mind for a minute there. It’s a marble replica of the Venus of Willendorf statue. Heard of it?”

“Busty gal with a kind of basket thing on her head?” Joseph reached up and patted at his hair, like he was wearing a hat. Thankfully, he didn’t mime Venus’s breasts.

I joined Joseph at the table, doing that half-sitting pose on the chair that ladies do when they don’t want to crinkle the back of their dress. A one-cheek perch, if you will. I slid the blood over to him and then took a sip of my wine. I needed a bit of liquid courage before Joseph and I commenced our evening plans.

“That’s the one. Jerry and Tim used a gift registry, thankfully,” I said. “Or else I would have had absolutely no idea what to get them.”

“I was wondering why you’d chosen that statue in particular,” he chuckled. “Seemed very . . . arbitrary.”

“Right! It’s definitely not a gift I would have picked out.” I made a gesture like I was presenting a gift. “
Here’s a stone naked lady, Jerry and Tim, congratulations on your union
.”

Joseph laughed. “Right!”

“What did you get them?”

“A non-stick cookware set,” he said. “I’m assuming it’s something Tim registered for.”

“Right. Because Jerry can’t eat.” I prattled on, “Some people think gift registries are tacky, like the bride and groom are demanding presents—well, the groom and groom in this situation. But I prefer them. I’d much rather have somebody tell me exactly what they want, that way I won’t have to waste my time going around store to store, and then end up buying them a present they end up returning anyway. If I had it my way, all holidays would have gift registries: birthdays, Christmas . . .” I fell silent, realizing that I was starting to babble. If I kept carrying on in the same fashion, poor Joseph’s ears would soon start to bleed.

I tended to talk too much when I was nervous, and I hadn’t been this nervous since my first date with Robert.

Not that this is a date
, I reminded myself again.

Without my yapping, the house was uncomfortably still. I nearly put on music, but I wondered if Joseph would think that I was trying to seduce him, like those cheesy guys in eighties television shows did with soft rock albums that featured lots of saxophone solos.

I tapped my fingers on the wineglass. I hoped Joseph wasn’t bored. And then I hoped
Robert
was bored—because if he wasn’t, it meant he was doing something enjoyable. With Serena.

“It’s a sporran,” Joseph said with an eyebrow raised. He held up the pouch that was situated right over his, uh, manhood. I hadn’t realized that I’d been staring at Joseph’s lower region, but I guess I had been, since he’d pointed it out. He didn’t seem like the sort of guy who’d go around making up stories about women gazing at his crotch.

Well, wasn’t that just great? Now this fine specimen of a man thought I was a blabbermouth
and
a crotch peeper—so classy. Maybe next I could take him into the bathroom and show him how I could make bubble bath with my farts.

I took a sip of wine as I thought about how to respond. “Sorry I was gaping at your junk” somehow didn’t seem appropriate.

The pouch thingie was adorned in soft white hair and tassels of the same furry material. I reached out to stroke it and then reconsidered. Even though I felt it was an innocent action, I didn’t think Robert would appreciate me going around grabbing at other men’s groins.

I needed to stop that—constantly speculating over what Robert would say—or else I’d spend the whole evening stewing. I hated it, not knowing where we stood as a couple. And I’d hate it more if Robert showed up at Jerry’s wedding with Serena on his arm, which I was more than mildly anxious about.

I used to roll my eyes when people said that their romantic situation was “complicated.” Inwardly, I’d snort:
No, really, it isn’t complicated at all. You either
are
or you
aren’t
with that person.
Oh, how naive I was to have had such an attitude. Now that I had a little romantic knowledge under my belt, I was starting to appreciate
exactly
what complicated romance was all about. Love
is
a very, very, very complex emotion, from what I’d witnessed
.
And people who said otherwise were inexperienced, like I used to be, extremely fortunate, or complete liars.

I also believed that every person has had that one flash of clarity when they finally grasped that they made the transition from young adult to just plain old adult. Liz said that her moment was when she’d looked at a teenaged girl and gasped, “Isn’t she too young to be wearing a skirt so short?” Back before she’d passed away, Grams had told me that her
moment occurred when she checked her bank account and realized that she had exactly one dollar and thirty-seven cents to her name, and that nobody was around that she could borrow money from—that she’d have to live off that small change for five whole days until payday.

And now there I was, having my very own adult moment: You mean, love really
is
complicated? Yes, it sure the hell was.

“Your
sporran
, is it?” I asked and Joseph nodded. “Is it made of . . . What kind of hair
is
that? It’s so supple.”

Joseph chuckled. “It’s horsehair.”

“Wow. It’s lovely. Is it functional?”

“What do you mean?”

Man, I’d thought Joseph was beautiful earlier, but this was just obscene. The way his eyes glittered when he smiled, like stars in some faraway galaxy . . . There was no expression for it.

No, there was one: Yum.

I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t be able to make it through the night without pouncing. My brainwaves were branching off into two completely opposite directions; I was either having filthy ideas about Joseph or worrying that I was somehow betraying Robert. But having naughty reflections about another man didn’t qualify as cheating, did it? And who knew
what
was happening at that exact moment between Robert and Serena?

Pull it together, Mercy!

“I’m just wondering what you put in your sporran,” I said. “Does it open, or is it only for show?”

“Oh,” Joseph said. He opened his pouch and showed me what was inside: a wallet, some change, and his car keys. “It’s basically a place to put small items, because kilts don’t have pockets. Traditionally, though, sporrans were used to hold coins and musket balls.” He gave the pouch a shake. “But don’t worry, I’ve left my musket balls at home tonight.”

I laughed. “That’s good to know.”

Once Joseph finished his drink, I put the tumbler in the sink and gave it a quick rinse—blood can be tremendously difficult to get off of glass. I asked him if he was ready to go. He was.

As Joseph helped me into my jacket, I said, “Thanks for coming to the wedding with me. I’d have felt so pathetic being there on my own.”

He smiled. “That’s the worst, isn’t it? Being at an event where everyone is coupled up and you aren’t.”
Not that we’re a couple
, I thought, though it shamed me to be thrilled by the implication.

Jerry and Tim’s wedding was over-the-top.
Of course
it was. But it was beautiful.

The happy couple left very few dry eyes in the house during their nuptials. (Joseph didn’t cry, but he didn’t even
know
Tim and Jerry.) They’d chosen cream as their color, with a smidge of gold thrown in. The flowers were crisp, plentiful, and white-white-white: roses, gardenias, calla lilies, orchids, and apricot blossoms. Their first dance as a new couple was to a soulful Motown ballad. The main meal was salmon, though about seventy percent of the guests didn’t eat. I was surprised not to see a blood fountain somewhere for the vamps, but maybe one was hidden away someplace. Jerry, who had hoped to be human for the nuptials, was unfortunately still vampire. (As I reminded Jerry, the effect of my blood was unpredictable.) Jerry took this in stride, stating that finding the love of his life made him happy enough and that expecting more would have been greedy.

The best part of the wedding (for me) was that Robert (and Serena) did not make an appearance. This was a fact Joseph was too wise to address and I was too proud to declare, though it was obvious that we were both relieved.

Jerry was savvy enough to overlook Robert’s absence, though his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw that I was there with somebody else (more so when I whisper-told him that Joseph was with the VGO). I was afraid that Tim was going to mistakenly call Joseph by Robert’s name when he came over to introduce himself, but he didn’t, which led me to believe that Jerry had tactfully pulled him aside and explained the situation. I loved Jerry for that.