known Michael had inherited some bucks when his father had passed, but he hadn’t known exactly how much dough the vamp was rolling in. “We can’t do this. We have to find a way to ally ourselves. For her sake.”
Christian sank into a nearby chair. “I know.”
Michael walked back toward him. “She’s entranced by both of us now, but it’s a shallow attraction. Sexual. Her mind and body sense the emotional bond that you and I already know we share with her, but she’s resisting it. All she wants from us right now—”
“Is our bodies.” Christian gave a rough laugh.
“Something like that.”
“She’ll come around to us. She has to.”
Michael shrugged. “The past weighs heavy on her. She’s scared.”
“Do you think she feels the same psychic connection to us?”
Michael shook his head. “She’s human, remember?”
“We can’t let her run away from us.”
“I have no intention of ever letting her go.” Michael raised his brows in challenge. “How about you?”
“Never.”
Chapter Seven
Kylie wrapped herself in an afghan she’d been told her grandmother had knitted and reclined on the couch in her living room. Outside, the world had gone cold quick. Winter was definitely on its way. A chilly rain had started this morning and hadn’t quit all day.
Luckily the bar was closed today, so she didn’t have to go out unless she wanted to. And it seemed that both Christian and Michael were giving her a little space. That was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, stupidly, she missed them. On the other, she was glad to have some time to get her head together.
There were about fifty things she could do with her rainy day off. The house needed a little bit of a cleaning. Most people didn’t like to clean their houses, but she enjoyed it. It gave her a sense of accomplishment—seeing direct results from her labor. It was also kind of a zen experience for her. While she cleaned, she was perfectly in the moment, not thinking of the past or the future or any of her problems.
Maybe cleaning was exactly the right activity for today.
Then there was her almost-finished piece of artwork in the barn. Sighing, she gazed out toward the red building on the other side of her yard. She could bundle herself up and head over there. She had a wood stove that made the area nice and cozy when she wasn’t playing with her blowtorch.
Yet something was holding her back from finishing up the piece, and she didn’t know what it was. There should be nothing preventing her from putting the final touches on it. After all, she’d started it as therapy of a sort, an effort for her to work through her emotions using metal and fire. It had worked.
Maybe that’s what was holding her back—maybe some part of her was unwilling to give up her coping strategy. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to let go of the guilt that had gripped her for so long it felt like a biological part of her.
“Whatever.” Her mutter sounded loud in the quiet house.
Flipping off the afghan, she went for a rag and the can of cleaner.
She threw herself into cleaning with such total abandon that before she knew it, it was evening. As she was wiping down the kitchen counters, her last task for the day, she had a sudden flash of Michael and Christian walking up to her door. She stopped with the rag in her hand and lifted her head, frowning. How odd.
The doorbell rang.
Her frown deepened. Even odder.
Abandoning her work, she walked down the short corridor to the front door. Through the heavy glass, she could see the outlines of two men. Her two men, she was sure.
She jerked a little at the thought.
Her two men.
According to the council they were, but did she want them? Ah, now that was a complicated question. Yes, of course, she wanted them. She would have to be half-dead not to want them—the real question was did she deserve to have them?
She touched her hair, which she’d tucked under her handkerchief while she’d cleaned, and
Christian sank into a nearby chair. “I know.”
Michael walked back toward him. “She’s entranced by both of us now, but it’s a shallow attraction. Sexual. Her mind and body sense the emotional bond that you and I already know we share with her, but she’s resisting it. All she wants from us right now—”
“Is our bodies.” Christian gave a rough laugh.
“Something like that.”
“She’ll come around to us. She has to.”
Michael shrugged. “The past weighs heavy on her. She’s scared.”
“Do you think she feels the same psychic connection to us?”
Michael shook his head. “She’s human, remember?”
“We can’t let her run away from us.”
“I have no intention of ever letting her go.” Michael raised his brows in challenge. “How about you?”
“Never.”
Chapter Seven
Kylie wrapped herself in an afghan she’d been told her grandmother had knitted and reclined on the couch in her living room. Outside, the world had gone cold quick. Winter was definitely on its way. A chilly rain had started this morning and hadn’t quit all day.
Luckily the bar was closed today, so she didn’t have to go out unless she wanted to. And it seemed that both Christian and Michael were giving her a little space. That was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, stupidly, she missed them. On the other, she was glad to have some time to get her head together.
There were about fifty things she could do with her rainy day off. The house needed a little bit of a cleaning. Most people didn’t like to clean their houses, but she enjoyed it. It gave her a sense of accomplishment—seeing direct results from her labor. It was also kind of a zen experience for her. While she cleaned, she was perfectly in the moment, not thinking of the past or the future or any of her problems.
Maybe cleaning was exactly the right activity for today.
Then there was her almost-finished piece of artwork in the barn. Sighing, she gazed out toward the red building on the other side of her yard. She could bundle herself up and head over there. She had a wood stove that made the area nice and cozy when she wasn’t playing with her blowtorch.
Yet something was holding her back from finishing up the piece, and she didn’t know what it was. There should be nothing preventing her from putting the final touches on it. After all, she’d started it as therapy of a sort, an effort for her to work through her emotions using metal and fire. It had worked.
Maybe that’s what was holding her back—maybe some part of her was unwilling to give up her coping strategy. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to let go of the guilt that had gripped her for so long it felt like a biological part of her.
“Whatever.” Her mutter sounded loud in the quiet house.
Flipping off the afghan, she went for a rag and the can of cleaner.
She threw herself into cleaning with such total abandon that before she knew it, it was evening. As she was wiping down the kitchen counters, her last task for the day, she had a sudden flash of Michael and Christian walking up to her door. She stopped with the rag in her hand and lifted her head, frowning. How odd.
The doorbell rang.
Her frown deepened. Even odder.
Abandoning her work, she walked down the short corridor to the front door. Through the heavy glass, she could see the outlines of two men. Her two men, she was sure.
She jerked a little at the thought.
Her two men.
According to the council they were, but did she want them? Ah, now that was a complicated question. Yes, of course, she wanted them. She would have to be half-dead not to want them—the real question was did she deserve to have them?
She touched her hair, which she’d tucked under her handkerchief while she’d cleaned, and
Similar Books
