Page 31 of Don't Bite The Boss
“The truck,” she laughs.
Blessedly, I slip into unconsciousness.
11
I wake, frowning, and pull the sheet up to hide my nakedness as I hear footsteps outside my door.
It is day five of my recovery, and I’m almost better, thanks to a steady supply of blood bags and round the clock, in fact over the top, care from Charlotte. I could probably get up and go back to work if I wanted to, but emotionally I feel a little drained, like I need another few days in bed.
Charlotte’s new revelations about the Irresistibles and our link to them has been going round and round in my mind, as have memories of things Solomon had said over the years that might hint that what she says is true.
I think back to our discussion last night.
“So, you are saying you are exponentially more powerful since turning Nick?”
“Yes.” Charlotte nodded, Nick nodding right along beside her. “Tess sent me some old documents Christopher’s research team had uncovered, it mentions Irresistibles. I haven’t had a great deal of time to study it yet, but there is some kind of magic link between a vampire and an Irresistible that is magnified if there is love between the two and the Irresistible is turned by choice, by the one they love.”
“Magic, huh,” I shake my head, “oh, Charlotte.”
“Tess thinks Solomon wants us back because he foundusirresistible.”
“We were not turned by choice,” I had scoffed, “none of us was – and none of us ever felt drawn to him.”
“I know,” she mused, “and I need to read more to find out the particulars. But think, Pru, if he drew strength from us, from three women he had found irresistible and turned, kept by his side for centuries, tortured yes, but never killed when he killed virtually everyone else after a time –think, that must be why he wants us back so badly. The strength is magnified when the vampire and his or her chosen one are together. Maybe not as much as when there is love, but certainly, if you collect enough Irresistibles, it must have some impact on your strength.”
“Charlotte, you can’t let Tristan know this, he will tell Christopher.”
“I think that ship has long sailed,” Nick says, his voice deep, serious, “Christopher found the information. He’s been searching for more knowledge ever since he found out what Serena is, searching for some reason behind their strange link. He must believe this is another reason Serena should turn him.”
“Poor Serena,” I mused. “If I know her, she won’t turn him on principal, even if this is true, because he questioned her love. I’ll bet she doesn’t feel like she needs to prove that, should need to prove that – that’s how I’d feel.”
“You might be right,” Charlotte said, casting a quick look at Nick, “and I guess we will know soon enough.”
They’d left them, to ‘discuss the whole thing with Serena.’ I hadn’t heard how that had gone – I suspect Serena wouldn’t believe a bit of it and would freak when she saw what Nick had become. But I just don’t know.
Looking up now, I see Tristan enter my room after a perfunctory knock, and my eyes widen as his scent hits me.
“Valerie told me what I am to you,” he says quietly, coming to sit gingerly on the edge of my bed.
“Valerie needs to keep her mouth shut,” I mumble, sitting up, aware that my hair probably looks like a nest, and gripping the sheet tightly over my chest.
‘Christ, must you sit so close?’
“This is why you keep trying to bite me, isn’t it? You can’t resist me?”
“Something like that,” I frown, reaching for a glass of water from my bedside table and taking a long sip. I don’t want to have this conversation tonight, not ever really. I want to pretend everything is fine, that I don’t need him, that I don’t, even now, want to press so close to him that we become one.
But we both know it isn’t fine. Not now, now that he has admitted he is drawn to me too, now that we have kissed.
‘The cat’s out of the bag.’
“Look, OK. Tristan, I guess I should have told you earlier. I find you irresistible in every way,” I sigh, placing the glass back firmly on the bedside table. “I lust after your body,” I blush when I say this, but plough on, “and I want your blood equally as much, if not more.”
“The way Charlotte describes it, this doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he muses, “it can be controlled.”
“You are not the first Irresistible I’ve met,” I say quietly, looking not at him, but staring instead at the painting on the wall, an amateur oil depicting a rural idyll; sheep, olive trees, a small cottage – no vampires in sight.
“I see,” he says quietly, “and I take it this Irresistible met an untimely end.”
