for a little while.”
“He’s way too old for you, kiddo.”
Charlottelaughed. “He’s way too old for you, too. That doesn’t stop you from seeing him.”
The subject didn’t come up often with them, but they knew thatRoyce and his family were
vampires.Marco had been their grandmother’s neighbor when they were kids, and it was kind of hard
not to notice how he hadn’t aged in twenty years.
CharlotteandBecca had been too young to understand it then, but Ellie had noticed right away that he
was different. In her mind, he’d taken over the role of a big brother, or the father figure she’d never really
had since her own had taken off a month afterBecca was born. She’d learned to love painting
throughMarco , and that had given her a career as well as an outlet for her frustrations. He’d never
mentioned the vampire thing, but she’d always had her suspicions. By the time she turned seventeen and
he’d gotten the guts to confess, she’d already known for three years.
Charlotte’s voice broke into her thoughts, and Ellie turned her focus back to the conversation. “Of
course it’s romantic. Spending an eternity with the man you love, having amazing sex, living most of your
life at night—”
“And drinking blood?”Becca wrinkled her nose in disgust. “ Eww .”
“Well, you’ve got to make some sacrifices for love. Right, Ellie?”
“Yeah, sure.”She left the two of them to debate the supposedly romantic side of vampirism while she
concentrated on cleaning up after dinner.
Somehow, she just couldn’t imagine thatRoyce ’s life was all that romantic.
Chapter 3
The next day, Ellie prepared herself for time at her easel. The air conditioner in the studio window
started with a thump , followed by a low whine.Almost time for a new one, if she could fit it into her
budget. It promised to be another scorching summer, and Ellie didn’t foresee the ancient unit lasting
through the end ofJune . She could probably scrape together the cash, as soon as she
convincedCharlotte to find a steady job with a regular paycheck and start to chip in some money for
household expenses. The woman was twenty-five, a little too old to be expecting a free ride.
She placed two candles—rosemary for mental clarity, and pine for protection—on glass dishes on top
of a small round table in the corner of the room and lit them before setting up her painting supplies and
settling in on a stool in front of her easel. She clipped a picture she’d taken a few days ago of the rocky
shoreline to a small stand on her supply table and went to work. Normally she preferred to work from
live subjects as opposed to photographs, but in this weather, spending time outside wasn’t high on her
list.
“Do you always leave your door unlocked?”
She jumped a mile when she heard the deep, smooth voice behind her. Her hand flying to cover her
heart—the paintbrush clasped tightly in it smearing blue paint along her jaw line—and spun to face the
unexpected visitor.
EricMalcolm.
He stood in the open doorway, his shoulder propped against the doorframe and his arms crossed over
his chest. The hard look in his eyes and the grim set of his jaw unnerved her. She swallowed hard even as
something in her sparked to life at the sight of him. What was he doing here? She’d invited him to view
her work in the gallery, not come over to her home studio. The fact that he’d been able to find her with
apparent ease made her stomach clench into a knot, anxiety and arousal in equal parts mixing within her.
She understood the anxiety. The man was a stranger, a dark stranger who probably had quite a few dark
secrets. But the arousal mystified her. She’d never been this attracted to someone she didn’t know
before, especially not a man who scared her nearly as much as he fascinated her. She took a moment to
compose herself before she spoke, not willing to give him a hint at her inner confusion.
“I live out in the middle of nowhere. I’m not usually disturbed when I’m working.” She let out a
frustrated breath, not sure whether she was more annoyed with his presence, or her exaggerated
reaction. “Besides, the decent thing would be to call before you visit someone.”
“I tried. No one answered.”
“You called?” she parroted, surprised at his answer.
He nodded, a humorous smile playing across his lips. “And I knocked on your front door. No one
answered there, either. Then your grandmother came out of her apartment and told me where to find
you.”
She nearly groaned. IfCarol had gotten to him, Ellie would never hear the end of it.