a bloodthirsty bite be considered an embrace? Why did everyone always romanticize the vampire? She’d looked into that creature’s eyes last night and had seen the hunger for her blood. And he’d smelled like rotting blood. There had been nothing whatsoever romantic about the lustful craving in his eyes, either.
Of course, she wasn’t stupid and knew it was the idea of immortality that attracted those who romanticized the creature. Because, really? Edward was just too damn old for Bella, and Dracula had been a sadist.
Kizzy had almost lost her life at the beginning of the year, and she said blessings for every morning she woke. But to live forever? She imagined it would get tiresome. Yet she couldn’t help a small thrill at now knowing her beliefs were real. Verified. Vampires really existed! And so did harpies.
And what other sorts of creatures would sense the weird vibrations she apparently gave out as a beacon and come to rip out her heart? Why was Purgatory such a seemingly popular vacation spot for the lifestyles of the weird and otherworldly?
Bending forward and gripping the backs of her calves to stretch out her back muscles—the motel bed had been lumpy—she vacillated over whether it would be wise to come clean to Bron with what she knew about her heart or to just cut her losses and run.
Could she trust the man? She wanted to. But she didn’t know much about him. He’d suddenly appeared in her life. And sure, he was handsome and stirred up thoughts of romance and heroes. She was a woman. She’d have to be dead not to be attracted to him. But he worked for some weird organization that—well, for as strange as it sounded, it also fascinated her. Acquisitions? A Retriever who searched for magical artifacts? How cool was that?
But she’d never claim any talent at picking the right guy, the one who was trustworthy and normal. Someone who wouldn’t laugh at her beliefs. Would she ever find the right one? She wasn’t in a hurry, but she didn’t like to waste her time on the less-than hopefuls.
After Kizzy’s first dramatic breakup as a teenager with the guy who had given her her first kiss and her first third-base feel, her mother had hugged her teary daughter to her chest and said something about finding the right man. One day when she least expected it, she’d turn around, and there he would stand.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Don’t be seduced by the strange and wondrous, Kizzy. You don’t need a man. Take care of yourself. You’re the only one who can do that.”
* * *
Bron woke on the bed, coming instantly alert and looking about the room. He’d heard something. Or was it the odd scent he noted? Smelled like...stale mattress. This place was nowhere near worth the forty-nine dollars he’d laid out for it. A tile above the toilet had fallen off when he’d been in there earlier. And the sink’s rust stains... It should be condemned.
He rubbed his temple, easing away the lingering remnants of sleep. He must have been more tired than he’d thought. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Of course, a flight across the ocean from Berlin, topped by an evening chasing harpies and vampires, could be the reason for exhaustion.
A beam of morning sun teased behind the faded curtains, and he glanced to the bed next to his. It was empty.
She had fled him once again. “Damn!”
Grabbing the truck keys on the nightstand, he mustered a small blessing she hadn’t the forethought to steal his vehicle. He hooked a hand in the canvas duffel in which he carried all his life’s possessions and rushed through the door.
Two steps out onto the tarmac, and he sniffed the air to determine which way she had gone. To the right.
And there she stood, not ten feet away. Against the brick wall. Offering him a small smile and a shrug. “I didn’t run off.”
Dropping the duffel bag where he stood, he then stalked up and gripped her by the shoulders. Relief surprised him, but he didn’t question it. “I thought you had. Kisanthra, I can’t protect you if you keep running away from me.”
And then he did something he would have never done had he taken a moment to think it through.
Bron pulled her into his embrace and wrapped his arms across her back. She sighed against his chest, tucking her head against him, and he remembered how easy it could be to hug a woman and simply let her warmth melt against his own. To recognize the shape of her and welcome her curves and softness. And to brace his arms about her a bit more tightly than a friendly hug allowed.
Because he’d thought he’d lost her. And he wasn’t done protecting her. Bad things were after her. She needed him.
That was his story, and he was sticking to it.
“I wasn’t running away,” she said against his shoulder. “I was just thinking about heading into the truck stop to buy us candy bars for breakfast. Bron?”
He still held her. Inhaled the sweetness of her skin. And what was that about? He didn’t hold women like this. Did he still have to fear what involvement with a human could mean to him? He shouldn’t. It had been a long time ago. And she smelled so good. Like candied peaches. But his dislike for human women had become an ingrained belief. And besides, it was easier hooking up with paranormals. He got a lot less questions from them.
Bron abruptly pulled out of the hug and ran his fingers back through his hair, then scruffed his beard. “Right. Breakfast. There’s got to be some place that’ll sell us eggs and bacon instead a candy bar. Doesn’t the truck stop have a diner?”
“Yes. And I love bacon. I just don’t have any more than a couple dollars on me, so a candy bar was all I could hope for.” She tapped the front of his shirt, and her smile beamed at him. “You don’t have to worry about me running off. I thought about it but changed my mind. I know I’m safe with you until we get this all figured out.”
“You’re a smart woman.”
“I am. But allow me some fumbling in this new world I’ve just been tossed into. Vampires and harpies? Much as I’ve always believed in mythical creatures, I’m going to have to fire up a new set of brain neurons to accept it all.”
“Good enough. Let’s go eat. My treat.”
* * *
Kisanthra secured a table for them inside the diner that, on the front door in big white vinyl-cling letters, had advertised the Man Plate, featuring two kinds of sausage, bacon, ham and steak. Bron’s stomach was ready for the challenge. He told her he’d meet her inside after a quick phone call.
This time the director took his call.
“What do you mean the heart isn’t attainable?” Ethan Pierce asked.
“It’s in a person,” Bron said. “A young human woman who is staying in a small Minnesota town.”
“I see. You’re in the States? Tough luck.”
“You had no idea the heart was intact?”
“Of course not, Everhart. I wouldn’t have sent you off on the mission knowing such a detail.”
“So, the mission is off?” he asked.
“I’ll have to look into it,” the director said. “Stand by until I can get back to you. Affirmative?”
