Chapter Sixteen

ERIN

I strutted away from Angelina with my heart hammering, though I did my best not to let it show. Because, whew. I’d just told off a vampire. Maybe not the wisest thing, but still. What a bitch!

“Good job,” Nash murmured as we bustled across the food court and out to the street.

I stood a little straighter. An agent of the BDSM — er, ADMSA — thought I’d handled a vampire well. Bonus points for me.

The triumphant feeling didn’t last long, though, because, yikes. How had I ever gotten involved with the likes of Angelina?

“Aren’t vampires supposed to be allergic to sunlight?” I muttered.

Nash shook his head. “Popular myth. They’re just like anyone else.”

I snorted. “Except for a few minor differences, like drinking blood.”

His lips formed a tight line, and it finally dawned on me. Shit. Angelina had drunk his blood, hadn’t she?

My stomach churned with disappointment and disgust. Nash had had a fling with Angelina, and he’d let her drink his blood? Did he really have such bad taste in women?

Maybe he didn’t let her, my better half argued. Maybe she forced him.

I snorted. A strong, hardy wolf shifter like him, forced? Not likely.

Then a really sickening thought hit me, and I took a full minute to phrase my question carefully.

“Doesn’t a vampire’s bite make the victim a vampire too?”

Nash jerked his head in a vehement no. “Only if they drain the victim to the last drop of their blood, then give just enough back to turn them.”

The nachos in my stomach threatened to make an encore appearance.

I stomped down the street toward my car, then paused. “Where are you parked?”

Nash shook his head. “Not important. Let’s go.”

For once, I was happy to comply. We slid into my Chevy. As I drove off, I glanced in the rearview mirror.

“What do you think she’ll get up to next?”

“She’ll wait for Harlon,” Nash said.

“What if she doesn’t?”

He thought it over before answering. “I think they’ve both realized you’re not an easy target.”

Somehow, that didn’t make me feel better.

“If I were them,” Nash continued, “I would take me out first, then come for you.” He stuck his hands up before I could protest. “That’s what they would do, not what I think.”

Still, I glowered. “Maybe they’ll try to kill two birds with one stone. A stubborn landowner and a pesky BDSM agent too.”

“Former agent,” he grumbled, not bothering to correct the acronym. We were definitely turning into an old couple. “And anyway, no. Divide and conquer is always better.”

I turned right at the Y intersection, heading west, still bristling. “Is that what they taught you at the agency?”

“No, that was in the Marines.”

Oh. Right. I gulped, reminding myself how out of my league I was — with him and Harlon and Angelina.

“Nice truck, by the way,” he said, a long, quiet minute later. Changing the subject?

Good. My mood could use it.

I patted the dashboard. “1978 Chevy Silverado. My great-aunt bought it new, way back when.”

He grinned. “She has good taste.”

I chuckled, picturing her in it with us kids crowded in beside her and several dogs in the back, their ears flopping in the breeze. “That, she does.”

Then, whoa. Another image came to me — this time with me, an uncharacteristically carefree Nash, and a cheerful little boy between us — Nash’s spitting image — plus Roscoe in the back, ears flopping in the breeze. Roscoe’s ears, that is. Not Nash’s, or the little boy’s…

I gulped. Now, where the heck had that come from?

By then, we’d passed the strip mall and the Desert Skies office, though neither of us spoke for another mile.

“Okay, let’s say they go after you first,” I conceded, getting back to business. “Probably at a time and place you’d least expect it or with the fewest witnesses.” Then I paled. “Wait. What if they come after you out at the cabin you’re renting on Henry’s property? We can’t let him get drawn into this.”

There were times when my boss drove me crazy, and I was still waiting for a chance to get that last hour of piloting. But Henry had given me a chance when no one else had, and he was a decent, law-abiding citizen.

Nash grimaced. “Where else could I stay that wouldn’t involve innocent people?”

I tightened my hands around the steering wheel, biting back the first answer that came to mind. But when I couldn’t find an alternative, I let it out, very quietly.

“You could come to the ranch.”

And just like that, my foolish heart thumped harder.

He shook his head. “I said, a place that doesn’t involve innocent people. You have sisters, right?”

My shoulders slumped. I did. And a niece — Abby’s daughter, Claire.

Nash shook his head. “Forget it.”

I couldn’t, though, because they were already involved, because we all shared the property.

“What if Angelina or Harlon come for me first?” I asked. “Like you said, they would want to divide us. It would be better if we circled the wagons, if you know what I mean.”

His jaw hardened. “I don’t like it.”

I huffed. “What’s to like about any of this?”

I didn’t mention the one aspect I did like — the prospect of keeping Nash close.

He didn’t say anything for a while. But when I paused at the red light at the turnoff to Henry’s place, Nash’s eyes bored into mine. Finally, he nodded.

“All right, then. Your place.”

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, we were back at the intersection, having grabbed a few things from Nash’s cabin. From there, I drove another mile down the highway, then turned off on a dirt road. My heart pitter-pattered the whole way, as if I were bringing Nash to my home for fun and games rather than perfectly rational, practical, and entirely platonic reasons.

So, no. No reason for jittery nerves at all.

The only sound was the roll of the tires over asphalt, then gravel. When I slowed and took the final turn for home, Nash did a double take, as if he hadn’t seen the fork in the road.

Interesting. I’d been wondering if he would be like most folks, who were blind to our particular turnoff. Now, I had my answer. My great-aunt had always claimed that spot had been spelled to blur in the eyes of the average passerby — and apparently, that worked on shifters too.

I pursed my lips. Would it fool Harlon and Angelina?

We rattled over a cattle grid, slalomed around a couple of potholes, then came to the rise with a view of the ranch — the main house, barn, corral, and a handful of other buildings, including my cabin way off to one side. Dusty paths connected the buildings, but those quickly gave way to scrub and trees that ran all the way to the rocky outcrops that hemmed in the ranch. Nash swiveled his head, taking it all in.

“Nice,” he murmured. His tone was genuine, and something in me warmed.

“It is,” I agreed, feeling lucky for the hundredth time that my great-aunt had entrusted the ranch to my sisters and me. “That part ends in a box canyon.” I pointed. “And over there is the creek.”

Nash nodded quietly.

He opened his mouth with a question, then thought better of it.

“What?” I asked.

He gazed off into the distance. “Nothing.”

I could guess, though — and kudos to him for not asking about the vortex. Still, I tensed a little as we cruised up to the main house. The low winter sun glared from straight ahead, making me squint, then glance sideways at Nash. Was I right to trust him?

Roscoe rose from the porch, barking and wagging his tail in his usual set of mixed messages. A small, strawberry-blond girl shot out of the house, meeting me with a cheer.

“Erin! Erin!”

I slid out of my car to greet my niece — a reminder of everything I held most dear and everything I risked.

“Claire!” I kneeled for a hug. A really big, really long one during which I closed my eyes and swore a thousand oaths.

Will not let the bad guys take this ranch. Will not let them harm those I love.

Roscoe slobbered on both of us, adding his own vow.

Claire extracted herself and smiled at Nash. “Hello. Who are you?”

His gulp indicated he wasn’t the doting uncle of a half dozen kids. In fact, he’d never mentioned family at all. On the other hand, we hadn’t discussed much besides work and Harlon.

Damn shame, a little voice in the back of my mind said.

“I’m Nash. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out a hand awkwardly.

Definitely no practice with kids. No problem for Claire, though. She grabbed his hand and shook enthusiastically, then made him shake the paw of her stuffed animal, a pink bunny.

“This is Hopper. Do you want to see my horses?”

“Um…” Nash looked at me.

My sisters stepped outside next — Abby, with a grim, What the Fuck look, and Pippa, with a huge, mischievous grin.

“Hi there,” Pippa called. “Nash, right?”

He nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets.

I bent to Claire’s level. “I think Nash would love to see your horses. Can you show him?”

Bouncing in glee, she grabbed his hand and towed him into the house. Well, she tried, but Abby blocked the door, glaring at Nash.

I sighed, shooting her a look that said, I’m not happy with this either, but if you give me a minute, I’ll explain.

“Mom.” Claire nudged her.

Finally, Abby relented a teensy-tiny bit. “I think your horses need some exercise. Why don’t you bring them out and show Nash here on the porch?”

Ah, my dear sister. Never one to trust a man farther than she could jiu-jitsu-throw him.

“I’ll be right back.” Claire shoved Hopper at Nash, ducked under Abby’s arm, and zoomed inside. Seconds later, she reappeared with an armful of toy horses. We sisters had collected them as kids, and Claire had inherited the whole herd.

“Here.” She thrust them into Nash’s arms and rushed inside for more.

“Meanwhile, we’ll take a little walk,” I said, motioning my sisters to follow.

Pippa bounded along eagerly, and Abby reluctantly followed. We were barely out of earshot when she hissed, “What the hell is he doing here?”

* * *

It took thirty minutes of explaining, arguing, and cajoling, but I finally filled my sisters in on everything that had transpired. They went from displeased to angry to gravely concerned but agreed it was best for Nash to stay with us while we figured out what to do.

Afterward, I rescued Nash from Claire and the horses, though that took some convincing too.

“He hasn’t seen Black Beauty yet!”

“After dinner, sweetie,” I promised. “I need to show him around.”

Funny enough, Nash wasn’t in a rush to escape Claire’s tutorial. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, with his long legs hanging over the edge of the porch and his hands busy making the horses gallop.

Had he played cowboy as a kid, once upon a time? Did he have a mom as strict as Abby — or aunts as doting as Pippa and I? Had his father been as dedicated as mine, or had the man been as absent as my mother? And what about Nash himself? Would he make as good of a father as the image I’d had made him out to be?

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, pushing away stirring emotions.

“Hey, Claire.” Pippa lured our niece away. “I need help making dinner — and dessert. Can you and Black Beauty help?”

Claire giggled. “Black Beauty has hooves, not hands.”

“Well, she can supervise,” Pippa said, then waggled her eyebrows at Nash and me. “Have fun, you two.”

Fun was not on the agenda. I wanted to show Nash the lay of the land in case we needed help protecting the ranch. But Lord, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“Your niece, huh?” he asked once we were a few steps away.

I nodded. “Abby’s daughter.”

He studied the sky warily. Did he expect enemy forces to helicopter in? Or, worse — dragons?

Slowly, he turned in a circle, then stopped, staring at our dragon-shaped weather vane.

“That was one of Abby’s first projects in the smithy,” I explained. “It came out really well, didn’t it?”

Sadly, our mother hadn’t noticed, but Pippa and I loved it.

Nash nodded, genuinely impressed. “Very realistic.”

“Come on. I’ll show you around.”

I gave him a quick tour of the ranch, warring with myself the whole time. Should I show him the vortex?

If he had pushed to see it, I would have probably refused. But seeing as he didn’t… I glanced over, then made up my mind. Nash wasn’t one of the bad guys. On the contrary, he had a lot going for him — a lot more than I’d originally given him credit for.

He respected that I was the boss at work.

He hated Harlon as much as I did.

And he shared nachos.

So, there. Lots of admirable characteristics.

“Now, the vortex…” I said, then hesitated.

“You want to blindfold me?” he offered with a little grin.

I bit back a bad BDSM joke.

“I hope it’s not necessary,” I said.

“I promise it isn’t,” he said, dead serious.

I nodded, then led him to the base of the cliffs by the head of the canyon.

Nash looked up at the figures etched into the stone by an ancient hand. The way he stroked his chin convinced me he must have had training in such things at that agency of his. The air went still, and a faint hum registered in my ears, like a live wire crackling with energy.

“Um…interesting,” Nash finally said. “But what about the vortex?”

I blinked. Wait. What?

I waved at the wall. “You don’t feel it?”

He frowned. “Feel what?”

I crossed my arms. Was he kidding?

“The vortex.” I didn’t finish with, you idiot, but I was tempted to.

“It’s here?”

I pointed to the spiral, and he reached for it. I yelped in warning, but—

I stared as he moved his hand over, then around the spiral. The whole time, his expression didn’t change.

I reached out, wondering if the vortex had cut out.

“Whoa,” Nash said as my hand was thrust back, nearly smacking his nose.

“It’s blasting out of the rock,” I said. “You don’t feel it?”

He tried again — carefully at first, then less so. Finally, he tilted his head. “You’re not kidding me, are you?”

“No, I am not kidding you.” Grabbing his hand, I held it toward the spiral, interlacing my fingers with his.

And, bang! I yelped again, because this blast was even more powerful — enough to make me stumble. Nash nearly toppled over, and I ended up smacked against his chest. He braced his legs and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, balancing us both.

A split second of embarrassment ensued, followed by a silent, all-body sigh. Gee, did that feel good. Scary-good, like we’d been made to fit that way.

I stayed there many, many seconds longer than I had to, relishing the feeling. Nash didn’t seem in any hurry to move either, and time slowed to a crawl. My zone of focus shrank, blurring out the cliff, the breeze, and the deepening hues of evening. All I felt was the warmth of his body and the soft puff of his breath on my shoulder.

And, heck. We might have stayed there all night if Roscoe hadn’t come by, crashing through the bushes after a jackrabbit.

Clearing my throat, I stepped away from Nash and the vortex.

“You seriously didn’t feel that?” I asked. Then I turned pink. I’d meant the vortex, but the words could just as easily refer to touching — and that feeling of You belong to me, with me .

He faced the rock wall. Out of genuine interest, or was he avoiding my gaze?

“I didn’t feel a thing.”

I swear, my feelings weren’t hurt.

Then it hit me. If he meant the vortex…

I frowned. “Am I the only one who can feel it, or am I imagining things?”

“What about your sisters?” he asked.

I thought it over, then shrugged. “Honestly, we never talk about it. But we all know it’s here, because my great-aunt brought us over to warn us not to get close.”

Nash studied the rock art a moment longer, then turned his gaze on me. “Well, that proves one thing.”

I was afraid to ask, but I did. “What?”

“You’re no relic, Erin. You’re a lot more.”

For years, I’d assumed that’s all I was — the offspring of two supernaturals with no powers of my own. But now… Well, yikes. What if Nash was right? And what exactly did that make me?