just a faint tug at the corner of his mouth.
A rather adorable smile, she thought as she yawned, and let her eyes fall shut again. Too bad he probably knows it.
“My name doesn’t mean pretty in French either,” he suddenly said, and for a moment, she thought she might have dreamed the comment.
She opened her eyes and he was there. Still messy. Still adorable.
“My name is Christian. Christian Young.”
She smiled, sleepiness making her feel relaxed and a little disconnected. “Christian. That’s a nice name.”
She closed her eyes and slept.
Christian stood over her, watching her. Her breathing came in a low, even rhythm. In. Out. Her spicy scent surrounded him again, the sharper scent of her fear and pain gone. Thankfully gone.
He stared at her face, still pale, but a hint of pink colored her high cheekbones. She would be all right.
He didn’t think God would be interested in his thanks, but he thanked him anyway. He hadn’t given any credence to God, even when he was alive. Funny, that he should now. Now, when he had no chance of being forgiven by God or man.
Hmmm. He’d never quite believed that he’d be able to do Step Seven of his twelve steps. But there it was, Humility—asking a higher power to remove his shortcomings.
He looked back at Jolee, again seeing another face, the face that had prompted this change in him. The face of a mortal whose only mistake had been to love his vampire brother. Did his brother Rhys still ache for Jane? Of course, he did. Christian could never expect forgiveness from him. Or Sebastian. His baby brother was right to stand by Rhys. Rhys had been right about Lilah all along, that she was evil and cruel and never loved him, but Christian’s obsession with her wouldn’t allow him to listen. Rhys would never forgive his shortcomings. Never.
Unable to think anymore about what he’d done, he spun away from Jolee and headed to his bedroom. There, he stripped off his soiled shirt, throwing it on the small dresser. The white material landed in a pile. He started to undo his pants when something on the shirt caught his attention.
Slowly he approached the garment, staring at stains, rusty brown against white. Picking up the shirt, he studied the smears. For the first time, he smelled the blood there. Even dried, the blood still contained that intoxicating scent, that lure. He lifted the shirt to his nose, breathing in deeply. His hunger responded, his muscles seizing with the urge to feed. But still his fangs didn’t extend.
He threw the garment away from himself. He was only torturing himself. He could never bite her. He couldn’t bite at all. But the need was still there, even though his fangs didn’t respond.
He left the room, fleeing the need. He was halfway down the hall when realization hit him. The scrape on Jolee’s arm had been bleeding when he found her. Her blood had been on his clothing, but until just now he hadn’t even smelled it. His hunger hadn’t cried out to him until he’d consciously smelled it. There was a time that he’d never have been able to block out the lure of her blood. Were his powers so far gone? Or had he been so worried about her that blood was secondary? He didn’t really know.
But he did know he could smell her in the trailer, her spicy, rich scent. A scent that didn’t have to do with blood, and only with Jolee herself. He entered the living room. She hadn’t moved. She remained curled on her side, her injured arm cradled against her chest. Her dark auburn hair, which had been knotted at the back of her head, had fallen loose. Strands clung to her cheeks. She had a smudge of dirt on the side of her chin, or maybe it was a bruise. Guilt constricted his chest. But no hunger. Even after smelling her blood and reacting to her essence, his hunger had calmed again.
He frowned. But his hunger had responded to her last night in her trailer. His erection, his desire to touch her. That had been the hunger, he was sure of it. Maybe the additional couple ounces of blood had gotten him back under control. Maybe he had found the perfect amount. Enough to satisfy, but little enough to make him as close to human as he could get.
She shifted, her knees practically coming up to touch her chin. She would be more comfortable in his bed. The lumpy mattress was far from luxurious, but it was better than the sunken cushions of the sofa.
He started to lift her, easing one arm under her knees and the other around her back, but she moaned.
“No,” she almost pleaded, as if she couldn’t stand to be woken again. So instead, he moved her so she was better situated on the length of the sofa, allowing her long legs to stretch out.
He returned to his room and grabbed a blanket. As he covered her, she murmured thanks, but he didn’t think she even woke up. He tucked the cover securely around her thin frame. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d tucked a person in. Maybe his sister, Elizabeth. But he couldn’t recall.
Pain and bitter remorse squeezed his chest. Another mortal he’d hurt. Another mortal he could have saved, if he hadn’t been blinded by his own obsession with Lilah. He hadn’t killed Elizabeth himself, but for all practical purposes, he might as well have.
Maybe that was why he was so drawn to this mortal. She seemed to need someone. To help her, to save her—he wasn’t sure from what exactly, but he was going to make sure he protected her in some way. In the way he should have protected his sister, his brothers, and Jane. And himself.
He sat in a chair and watched Jolee sleep. She shifted slightly so he could see her face. Those lips, her long lashes against her pale skin. Her nose, straight and tipped up just a bit at the end. His body reacted to her, but he ignored the confusing reaction. Instead he went to his computer and to his blog page.
I think I have found a way to make up for my past mistakes. I know I can never receive forgiveness from my brothers. Or Elizabeth. Or Jane. But I can receive forgiveness from another human. I don’t exactly know where this strategy fits under my step program. She is either Step Nine: Forgiveness, where I make amends to someone I’ve hurt.
He glanced at her. He’d definitely hurt her. Both physically and mentally.
Or maybe she’s actually Step Eight, which I have titled Willingness. I had been using this blog as my connection to others, but I think maybe I need to do more. I think I might need to actually interact, in person, with humans for this plan to be a real success. To show my desire to change. Or she could actually be Step Twelve: Service. This step requires me to go out and help others and share what I’ve learned.
That idea now wasn’t as appalling as it had once been. Again he looked over at Jolee. In fact, he rather liked the idea of being “friends” with a mortal. It would be quite a novelty, really.
Jolee breathed evenly, deeply. He didn’t understand the strange reactions of his body to her. The urge to touch her. The erection without the fangs. All he knew for sure was he needed to be near her. He didn’t understand the need, but she made him feel something other than emptiness and hunger. And he would protect her. That seemed like a fair and safe trade-off.
He turned back to the computer.
Maybe she is a combination of all three. In which case, I dare say I’m being quite successful at this program.
Chapter 6
Jolee stretched, then groaned. Good Lord, she felt like she’d been hit by a Mack truck. She
