Chapter Four
Della’s shoulders came back and she was prepared to get right in the middle of it. But before the guy took even a step, Derek and Kylie’s boyfriend, Lucas, had moved between him and Steve.
“Rule number one, no trouble on the court,” Lucas said. “A fight breaks out here and we’re all grounded from basketball for a week.”
While Lucas took the more direct route, Derek moved in and placed a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “It was just an accident,” he said.
It wasn’t an accident. Della knew Steve had done it on purpose, but let Chase believe it if he was that gullible.
Chase shook off Derek’s fae touch that no doubt had been to shed the tension. And while Chase did seem calmer, he still managed to shoot Steve a cold look. Steve didn’t back down for a second, and Della worried the two would go at it. Not that she worried Steve couldn’t hold his own. She’d seen him in action when they were on their mission. But she didn’t want him getting into trouble because of her.
Steve wasn’t the get-into-trouble kind of guy.
“Why don’t we just call it a day,” Lucas said, and Della noted he was looking at Kylie like he was parched and she was a cool drink of sweet tea. The two were so in love that they couldn’t look at each other without getting that silly grin on their faces.
Another reason she was staying the heck away from love. Vampires didn’t do silly grins.
Lucas came walking up, grabbing his shirt from the bench by the court. “Hey,” he said, eyes and pheromones only for Kylie. “You want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah, but first I need to talk to Derek?”
“About what?” Lucas asked, sounding a tad jealous.
“An issue for Della. Can I meet you in front of the office in about five minutes?” Kylie asked.
“Yeah,” he said, frowning slightly, but he leaned down to kiss her.
Della looked the other way. Unfortunately, her eyes landed right on Miranda and Perry sucking face.
“We could kiss and show them how it’s done,” a deep Southern voice said at her ear. A voice belonging to a body that she hadn’t heard approaching. What was with her on-and-off hearing?
She turned around and stared at Steve. He stood so close his scent filled the air; his eyes, brown with some gold highlights, filled her vision. Leaning in just a bit, she could feel his warm breath on her lips.
Her first thought was to give in, let him kiss her, let herself kiss him and show these amateurs how a kiss was supposed to go. Butterflies filled her chest at the thought of how good it would be. They’d kissed the first time when they were on FRU camp business. And against her better judgment, several times since. She blamed the weird electricity that snapped and popped whenever they got close. He studied her expectantly and her instinct said to spout out something off-putting about him expecting a kiss when they weren’t . . . an item. But she remembered he’d thrown the ball at the panty perv. Steve didn’t deserve any lip. He probably deserved a kiss, but not now. Maybe she’d pay up when they were alone.
She pulled back. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He leaned in. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Did that new guy do something that pissed you off?”
“Yeah . . . no, I mean, it was nothing.”
Steve’s expression soured. “Why was he mouthing off at you about Smurfs?”
She usually told Steve the truth, but suddenly she didn’t want him to know she wore Smurf pajamas. “I thought he was trespassing and we bumped heads.” She glanced up over Steve’s shoulder and saw the panty perv staring at her and Steve.
“Funny,” Steve said in a nonfunny voice. “The way you were looking at him wasn’t the way you’d look at someone you’d butted heads with.”
Della nipped her lip to keep from smiling. She should be embarrassed at Steve calling her out about appreciating the panty perv’s body. And she was, but her pride took second to the excitement of knowing that Steve cared enough to get his boxer shorts in a bunch.
Leaning back on her heels, she stared up into his eyes. “It sounds like someone’s jealous, but I can’t see why. It’s not like you and I are going out or anything. We’re just friends, so . . .” Della shrugged, feigning innocence.
Steve quirked his lip in a cocky half smile and took a step closer. The electricity started to crackle. They stood less than an inch apart, but Della, aware only of him and the magic he brought on, refused to step back this time. They’d been playing this game for weeks—flirting and teasing each time they saw each other, and Della could give as well as he could take.
“Yup, we’re just friends, but friends look after each other, and make sure they don’t go goo-goo-eyed at new campers they don’t know anything about.”
Goo-goo-eyed? She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from chuckling. “I have no idea what you are talking about. You must be seeing things. Vampires never go goo-goo-eyed. Maybe a drop of sweat got in your eyes.”
She reached up to and thumbed away a nonexistent drop from the corner of Steve’s brow. She heard his heartbeat surge the second her skin touched his, and willed her own heart rate to stay calm.
He caught her wrist and drew a tiny little heart on the tender skin above her veins. “You’re looking a little gooey right now, Miss Priss.”
She almost laughed. Almost. Instead she became instantly aware that they weren’t alone, but still in the midst of nosy campers—some of them with super hearing. And this game, the flirting game she and Steve played, she insisted they only play it in private. What the heck had she been thinking. Oh, yeah, she wasn’t thinking!
She took a step back, and when she did she saw Derek, whom she’d come here to talk to about her missing uncle, walk away. “We’ll talk later. I need to see Derek about something.”
“About what?” he asked as if he had all the right in the world to know.
Derek was almost to the trail. “I . . . I really gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
She glanced back at her two best friends, both looking . . . goo-goo-eyed at their boyfriends, and decided to talk to Derek without them.
Taking off, she caught up with Derek right as he entered the path back to his cabin. “Derek,” she called, shaking off the warm fuzzy feeling left over from her encounter with Steve. Damn, that boy had a way of getting to her.
Derek stopped and turned around. “Yeah?” he asked.
“I . . . Do you have a minute?”
He almost frowned. “Just a minute, I’m meeting someone. What do you need?”
Was he meeting Jenny? Probably. Everyone seemed to be in love or on their way to it. Except her, she told herself, not willing to accept that her and Steve’s “thing” was more than a passing fancy. And it would pass, because that’s what she wanted.
She looked at Derek. “I’m . . .” How did she explain it? She forced herself to just spit it out, and as she did, she realized how hard it was to ask anyone for help. “I’m looking for a missing person. I want you . . . I was hoping you would flex your PI muscles to help me find him.”
“My PI muscles?”
“Your gift of doing investigation,” she clarified. “I know you used to work at a PI agency and I wanted to ask for your help.”
“Who is it you’re looking for?”
“My uncle,” she said.
“How long has he been missing?” Derek asked.
Della did the math in her head. “Around nineteen years.”
Derek’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“My dad had a twin that he never talked about, and I just learned about him. Supposedly, he died in a car crash.”
Derek’s mouth dropped a little more and his brow pinched in confusion. “If he’s dead, why . . .”
“I think maybe he was turned and faked his own death like most vampire teens do.”
“Are you sure he was turned?”
“No, but the vampire virus runs in families and it would make sense that . . . that it was
what happened.”
“Not really. I’d say the odds of him being killed in a car crash are fifty times greater than him being turned. And the virus doesn’t always run in families. That’s only with about thirty percent of vampires,” Derek said. “Chris and I were just talking about that.”
“I know, but I have a cousin who’s vampire, too. So . . . so that has to up the odds some. And my sister heard my dad say his brother got cold and then went off and got himself killed in a car crash.”
“Cold as in physically cold?” Derek asked, for the first time seeming as if he believed her.
“I don’t know. My sister just overheard him saying that, so I can’t go ask my dad. But I was hoping you could research it. See if you find out anything on him.”
Derek made a what-the-hell face, and Della feared he was about to tell her no.
“Please,” she said. God, she hated begging.
He sighed. “I don’t mind trying, but nineteen years is a long time ago. Normally, I find stuff on the Internet, and being that long ago, chances of finding anything there is slim to none.” He paused as if to take everything in. “Wait, why don’t you go to Burnett? He could probably . . .”
“I don’t want Burnett involved until I know for sure he’s registered, or as a last resort.”
Derek frowned. “You think he could be rogue?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t want to bring the FRU down on him.”
Derek nodded and then looked at his watch as if he had to be somewhere. “Do you have his name and birthday, and the day he died?”
“Everything but the day he died,” Della said. “Oh, and I have a picture.” She went to pull it out of her pocket.
Derek held up his hand. “I have to . . . I’m supposed to meet Jenny. Can you scan the picture and email it to me? And send any info you have on him. Where he was living. If he’d lived anywhere else recently. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try.”
Hope welled up in Della. “I’ll go home and send it to you right now.”
He turned to go, but Della was suddenly so giddy with the possibility of this actually being true that she grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you!” It only took a second for her to realize how odd that was—her initiating something that almost resembled a hug.
“You’re welcome,” he said and pulled away, looking at her a little strangely. But for once, she didn’t care. The thought that she honestly might find an uncle—a man who looked just like her father—and have a family member who understood the whole vampire life was like unfriggin’ believable.
Maybe then she wouldn’t grieve so much for her own family. Maybe she could go back to thinking life didn’t suck so much.
• • •
That night Della couldn’t sleep. She should be exhausted since she’d been so busy allegedly stealing her dad’s brandy the night before, and had only napped an hour during the day, but her mind kept running on the possibility of finding her uncle. She got out the picture and stared at his face. He looked so much like her dad. They must be identical twins.
She couldn’t help but wonder if the man’s approval would make her feel as proud as her father’s.
It suddenly occurred to her that her cousin Chan might know something about him. Perhaps his mom had mentioned the uncle when her dad wouldn’t? She jumped up and snagged her phone off her dresser and called. She didn’t even worry about the time; considering he was vampire, and living on the edge of rogue, he didn’t try to conform his sleeping habits to match the human ways.
His phone rang and rang. It finally went to voice mail. “Hey, it’s Della. I have something I wanted to ask you. Can you give me a call?”
She hung up, but brought the phone to bed with her. Would he call her right back? She lay there staring at the phone for another hour, remembering he’d tried to call a week ago and she’d never called him back. Finally, feeling too antsy to just lay there, she decided to take a run. Maybe if she wore herself out, she might be able to sleep.
Donning a pair of jeans, she pulled on a top, and then the idea that she might run into Steve had her dashing to the bathroom to comb her hair and rinse out her mouth.
She popped her phone into her back pocket then she quietly opened the window and took off. The night held a chill, but it didn’t bother her. The moon, a silver crescent, hung a little low. A few clouds flickered in the black sky as if begging for attention. She ran to the edge of the woods, looking for a certain bird watching her from above. She slowed down to check and see if her hearing was on or off.
She heard birds calling, a few fluttering of feathers in their nests above in the trees. A few crickets sang from beneath the brush and something, a rabbit or a possum, stirred in the grass about fifty feet away. Her hearing was on. But glancing up, she didn’t see the particular bird she sought. Steve normally chose to shift into a peregrine falcon—because it was the fastest bird, he’d told her once.
As she started to move, her feet still hitting the ground, she maneuvered between the trees, dodging the branches, to spend some of the energy bubbling inside her. She recalled running earlier and finding Chase. Her mind flashed to the image of him playing ball without his shirt on.
She took a deep breath, tasting the air to make sure the panty perv wasn’t out tonight. The only scents she drew in were natural scents: the damp forest ground, and the smell of fall—that earthly smell of the leaves losing the battle to hold on to life, and turning from green to golds, reds, and oranges. As pretty as some people thought fall was, it was about death. And that was kind of sad.
She made the lap through the woods twice—never going into full flight. The large gate to her right marked the edge of Shadow Falls’ property. Her heart thumped in her chest. She inhaled, her nose picking up new scents . . . animals. A deer moved close by in the woods, its hooves stomping into wet earth as it darted between the trees with grace. Above she sensed a bird. She heard the wings flying over her. Glancing up, she saw the falcon pass in front of the glimmer of light from the moon.
Steve?
She stopped. Watched the bird swing around and land in the tree.
“You following me?” she asked. But her tone lacked any conviction.
She squinted in the darkness and could barely make out the bird. “I know it’s you, so just quit hiding.”
She heard the bird fluttering its wings. Was he mad at her?
In the distance she heard the deer coming toward her, but she ignored that and stared up at Steve perched on the limb. She bent at the knees and leapt up into the tree. Steve bolted back and fluttered his wings as if threatening to fly away.
“Stop pretending,” she said, and when bubbles of energy didn’t start popping off around him as he changed, she remembered running off in the middle of their latest flirtation session on the basketball court.
“Look, I had to go ask Derek about something. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
The bird lowered its head and made a slight noise.
“I’m sorry if it was rude. I didn’t mean to be.”
He still didn’t say anything or start turning.
“Are you mad because I wouldn’t kiss you? I told you I’m not the touchy-feely type. We’re not even supposed to be kissing. We’re not . . . together.” The bird cocked its head and gawked at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I’ve let you kiss me before, but . . . if you weren’t such a good kisser, I wouldn’t even be tempted.” Suddenly a noise stirred below the tree.
“You and the bird have made out, huh?” a voice said from below.
Della stared at the deer on the ground looking up at her. The deer that sounded just like . . . Oh, shit! The moon spit out just enough light so that she could see the bubbles popping off around the big buck. Once the bubbles cleared, Steve appeared.
She looked back at the bird. “Who are you?” she demanded. The bird squawked at her.
“I’m pretty sure it’s just a bird. But since you two have been having an inti
mate little conversation about kissing and all, maybe you should name him.”
Growling, embarrassed she’d been duped by a bird, she dropped down to the ground. As soon as her feet hit, Steve caught her and pulled her into him. His hands, which fit perfectly, felt so firm and yet tender around the curve of her waist. What was it about his touch that just felt so darn right?
“So now you and the bird have a thing going, huh?” Humor twinkled in his eyes and his brown hair, flipping up on the ends, looked a bit mussed. He wore a light brown T-shirt with some sport logo and a pair of jeans, and he wore them quite nicely.
She placed her hands on his chest with full intent to push him on his ass, but the warmth of his skin against her palms sent her embarrassment packing. Suddenly, the desire to teach him a lesson was gone, and she simply wanted to touch him. His masculine chest, warm and with firm muscles, had her wanting to run her hands up to his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
Then the laughter in his eyes and his special spicy scent sealed the deal. It was so damn hard to be mad at him—even when he was poking fun at her. Or not really poking fun, but teasing, in a totally unhurtful way. He didn’t tease to be mean, his teasing even made her feel special.
Too nice, she thought. Steve was too nice.
“You’d better not laugh,” she said, trying to sound angry, but it didn’t come out with any animosity.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “Being with you makes me happy. I waited up half the night to see if you’d come to me. I’m glad I wasn’t wasting my time.”
“I didn’t come to see you,” she said. His words vibrated in her head. Being with you makes me happy. A warm pool of goo went straight to her heart.
Her lying heart. “I was running because I couldn’t sleep.” That was true, she told herself, but she’d thought about him when she’d come out. She’d wanted to see him. And this wasn’t the first time, far from it. At least three times a week she came out at night, and ninety percent of the time she ran into him. Oh, Lordie, she needed to stop counting on him.
He leaned his forehead down on hers. “I don’t believe you.”
“You’re impossible,” she said.
“You’re beautiful,” he countered. “Now what was it you said about the bird being a good kisser?”
She cut her eyes up at him. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I’ve always had to push with you,” he said, sounding a little more serious. “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
“I still won’t give you the time of day,” she snapped.
“Yeah, but you just admitted liking my kisses.” His lips brushed against hers.
She pulled back. “I admitted to liking the bird’s kisses.” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning. Damn, he made her happy. And that was dangerous.
“I’ll remember that the next time I shift. Any kind of bird you like best?”
Then he kissed her—a soft, sweet kiss that pretty much made her putty in his hands.
She let herself get swept away for several seconds, maybe a minute, then she pulled back, gasped for air and put her hand on his chest to stop him from coming back in for more.
“We shouldn’t . . .”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I’m not . . .”
“Ready to commit.” He frowned. “I know, you’ve told me that a dozen times. And I can accept that, but out here, it’s just you and me. We’re not committing, we’re just . . . kissing.”
“But you know where this will lead and I’m not ready for that either.” She looked away, partly out of embarrassment, and partly because she thought she heard something in the woods.
He touched the side of her face and made her look back at him. “Look, I enjoy kissing you, and if that’s all I can get, then that’s what I’ll take. At least until you’re ready for more.”
“What if I’m never ready and you’re just wasting your time?” she said.
He pulled her against him again. “I think I can persuade you to change your mind.”
“You think you’re that good?”
“I know I am,” he said and chuckled. “A little birdie told me,” he teased.
She punched him in the ribs.
And right then she heard that noise again. She swung around, lifted her nose up and got a whiff of another vampire. A vampire and fresh blood. Lots of blood.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Christie Craig grew up in Alabama, where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and regularly rescued potential princes, in the form of bullfrogs, from her brothers. Today, she’s still fascinated with lightning bugs, mostly wears shoes, but has turned her focus to rescuing mammals and hasn’t kissed a frog in years. She now lives in Texas with her four rescued cats, one dog—who has a bad habit of eating furniture, a son, and a prince of a husband who swears he’s not, and never was, a frog.
If Christie isn’t writing, she’s reading, sipping wine, or just enjoying laughter with her friends and family. As a freelance writer, Christie has over 3,000 national credits, as well as three works of non-fiction, including the humorous self-help/relationship book, Wild, Wicked & Wanton: 101 Ways to Love Like You’re in a Romance Novel. Christie writes humorous romances novels for Grand Central, as well as the New York Times-bestselling Shadow Falls series, under the pen name C.C. Hunter. Contact Christie—she loves hearing from readers—or learn more about her and her work through her website: www.christie-craig.com
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