Kiss Me Forever/Love Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

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СКАЧАТЬ called as he pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. He didn’t want to scare her again.

      “Hello.” She looked up and smiled. Her shoulders relaxed as he stepped through the door. Had she expected him to burst through naked? Probably.

      “Thanks.”

      She smiled, as if unsure of what to say next. “I got you some blood.” She nodded at the glass jug in the center of the scrubbed pine table.

      His feast beckoned, the aroma heady and intoxicating. Driven by instinct, he hefted the jug in both hands and chug-a-lugged. He savored the sweet taste on his tongue, as richness and nourishment flowed down his throat, warming his core. Renewed strength flooded to his extremities as he drained the last drops from the tilted jug, and his eye met Dixie’s over the glass rim. “Sorry. Should have done that in private. We’re not an elegant species when it comes to feeding.”

      She nodded, her face visibly paler than before. “Want a napkin?” She handed him a paper towel. He didn’t doubt he needed it.

      As he sat down and wiped his mouth, a hideous thought shook him. “Was that your blood?” He’d had over a pint. How could she have…?

      “Chickens.”

      “You never got that much from a chicken.”

      “No, I defrosted twenty-five pounds of chicken liver. I’ve done some odd things since I came here, but today’s been positively surreal.”

      “It’s not been an average day for me, either.”

      Her chuckle brought light and amusement to the tension that lay between them and reminded him of the gulf wider than humanity. “You look better. Your color’s returning. You were so white…” She broke off and bit her lip as understanding clouded her eyes.

      “I was pale because I needed to feed. Lack of nourishment combined with the torture nearly finished me.” He reached across the table, his will urging her not to draw back. He closed her warm fingers between his cold hands. “I owe you my existence, Dixie. Anything you want, just ask.” What else could he say? As if the rescue wasn’t enough, she’d spent the afternoon defrosting liver to gather blood for him—and she couldn’t bear the thought of eating a bacon sandwich.

      “You could start by answering a few questions.”

      And he could end by putting her in danger when they discovered he wasn’t dead. “You might be better off not knowing.”

      Eyebrows rose over those bright green eyes. Most mortals would flinch at the sight of his disfigurement. Not his Dixie. “I’ll decide about that.” She moved her hand from his. Cold filled his empty palms.

      “Dixie…” he began.

      “No. Listen. You’re a vampire, right?”

      He nodded. Safe enough question; he only confirmed what she’d undoubtedly worked out herself, hours ago.

      “Who tried to kill you?”

      “People who want me dead.”

      Her eyebrows almost met. “Smart-ass, how about a nice, stra…” She stopped mid-syllable as the doorbell rang. She turned to the doorway, then back to him, her eyes creased with worry. “I’ll see who it is.”

      The front door closed and Dixie came back, balancing a stack of blue booklets. “It was Emma. I got rid of her by agreeing to deliver parish magazines.” She dumped the stack on the edge of the kitchen dresser and sat back down. He wished to heaven she hadn’t. His hunger was piqued rather than eased by the blood he’d swallowed, and now he smelled hers. He heard it coursing under her warm skin. He imagined it warm against his tongue. The thought of her lifeblood sent his mind into a spin. He wanted nothing more than to tip her head back, bury his fangs in her soft skin and drain her dry.

      And probably kill her. He clutched the table edge, fighting back his physical need. He had to leave. Fast. Before Caughleigh and his cronies discovered the lack of vampire remains. Before someone knocked on the back door and found him in a tête-à-tête with Dixie. And before survival instinct overrode respect for Dixie’s life. He’d flit right now, but he barely had the strength to stand, much less transmogrify—or even drive himself.

      She reached across the table to him, her soft hand over his clenched fist. “You still look terrible, Christopher. Anything else you need?”

      This was no moment for the whole truth. He paused. “I need your help. To get away. I can’t stay here. For both our sakes.”

      Concentration replaced the worry in her eyes. “You want me to take you somewhere? You can hardly go back to your house.”

      “I need you to drive me up to town. To London.” At Tom’s he’d be safe. He’d worry later about Tom’s reaction when he drove up to the front door with a mortal.

      She didn’t hesitate a second. “Right. I’ll have to check the map Stanley gave me. Or perhaps you know the way.”

      “I know the way.”

      She drove carefully. Just as well. He slipped in and out of consciousness like a drifting leaf. “I’ll owe you forever for this,” he said.

      “I’ll collect when I need to.”

      “Tell me when we get to Hyde Park Corner,” he said and slumped against the seat.

      Dixie hoped they’d get that far. She was tempted to ignore his insistence and take him to the nearest hospital, but he was right. She couldn’t drive up and say, “I need help for an injured vampire.” They’d lock her up.

      Cold panic hit her at a roundabout, but she negotiated it and would have patted herself on the back except she needed both hands to maneuver a lane change. The traffic got denser with every mile. Stuck in a jam somewhere near Wandsworth, she glanced over at Christopher. He looked gray as doom.

      The streetlights cast odd shadows, highlighting the empty socket and his sunken cheeks. She drove on through the massed traffic. If this was evening, she didn’t want to see rush hour.

      “We’re at Hyde Park Corner, Christopher.”

      He didn’t open his eyes, but he’d heard her. “Go up Piccadilly.” She had to concentrate to hear his voice above the noise of the traffic. “Now left here.” She noticed the name, Half Moon Street. “Now left…. Second right…. To the end, then left.” A narrow road turned abruptly by a pub at the corner, The Red Lion. “Through the gateway.” There were high walls behind and houses in front, and at the end, another wall with a black garage door. “This is Tom’s. You can park inside.”

      “How do I get in?” As she spoke, the door rose and closed behind her as she pulled to a halt in a small yard behind the tall, dark shape of a townhouse. A tall figure made a silhouette against the light in the open French windows.

      “Kit?” The voice echoed with worry in the night air. He bounded across the yard and wrenched open her door. “Who the hell are you?” he asked as Dixie stepped out of the car

      “I’m Dix…” She could have been Ivanna Trump for all he cared.

      “Kit,” he СКАЧАТЬ