Love Your Entity(39)

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So now you’re saying you’re not a vampire?’

“I am a vampire.”

“But you have a pulse and your skin isn’t cold. Well, maybe it is now since we’re standing out here in the cold.”

“Outdoor temperatures don’t bother me.”

“What about sunlight?”

“No longer a problem, but that isn’t important. This is. The reason I’m here at my former home is because of my sister.”

“Yeah, you said that earlier but I don’t get the connection unless she’s a ghost?”

“No, I don’t think she is.”

“You’re not really making much sense.”

Ronan realized that. There was so much at stake here that he needed to get it right. The memories of what he was about to reveal came flooding back. Not just what had happened after he’d been turned—but before. When he’d slid in the blood in the trenches and fallen facedown in it. The metallic taste in his mouth, abhorrent to him as a human, was necessary to him now that he was a vampire. He tried to keep his explanation brief. “I was turned on the battlefield in France during World War One by a Master Vampire named Baron Voz. As a result, I was indentured for nearly a hundred years. I only recently gained my freedom.”

“How recently?”

There she was, quick with the questions. “Two weeks ago.”

“What does indentured mean? Not the dictionary definition of the word, but in regard to you. I’m still trying to come to terms with this entire vampire thing,” she said.

“It meant that I had to do whatever Voz wanted.” He had no intention of going into detail about what that entailed.

“How do I know that you aren’t still following this Voz’s orders? If he controls you then—”

“He doesn’t. Damon or Nick would both confirm that. They wouldn’t allow me to stay here in Vamptown otherwise.”

Instead of asking for more proof, she surprised him by asking, “How old were you? When you were turned, I mean.”

“Twenty-eight.”

Ronan tried reading her mind. He’d had some minimal success before. Now that they were bonded, he should be able to access more of her thoughts, but they were so jumbled and coming so fast that it was hard to keep track.

Five pages. I have to write five pages tomorrow. How am I supposed to do that when I’m tied to a vampire? I have an interview. Wear black. What must it be like to have been human once and been turned? I don’t want to find out. I don’t want to be a vampire. I can manage seeing blood but drinking it is something else. Ronan’s sister has his smile.

He almost commented on her last thought about his sister but doing so would let her know that he could access her thoughts and he knew her well enough to know that would not go over at all. His redhead had a temper.

Shit. He couldn’t think that way. She wasn’t his. Yes, they shared a bond but he couldn’t act on it. Doing so would risk everything. He couldn’t have sex with her.

Yet he wanted to. Look at her standing there so close, with her great breasts and bad attitude. Those were the first things he’d noticed about her. Her breasts and her attitude.

But now he knew so much more, like the way she nibbled her bottom lip when she was thinking hard or the way her green eyes flashed when she was angry yet went soft when she was wrapped up in the stories in her head. Then there was the delicate shape of her fingers yet the strength in her grip. When he’d held her hand and twined his fingers through hers it was as if they were meant to fit together. When she’d given him that incredible vamp bond kiss, it had taken every iota of his control to stop her and not tear her clothes off and have her right there and then.

He cut those thoughts cold. He couldn’t have sex with her. The dangers were too great and the stakes too high.

Sierra’s voice jogged him back to the matter at hand.

“I don’t understand. What does all this have to do with your sister?” Sierra said.

“I only recently discovered that she died during the Spanish flu epidemic in 1919.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It gets worse. When he released me, Voz told me he’s been holding her soul hostage. In order to free her, I have to retrieve a key for him that is hidden in my house.”

Maybe it was her experience with spirits trying to head toward the other side that made her more accepting of his story.

“What kind of key?” she said.

“I don’t know. Voz didn’t say. I don’t even know if it’s literally a key or not. But I only have until midnight on Valentine’s Day.” He realized that sounded lame, but she didn’t ask him how the hell he was supposed to find something when he had so little to go on.