Blood Bond (An Anna Strong, Vampire Novel)(11)

Frey is smiling at me, his hands touch my cheek and I know what he's about to say. He has the kind of look in his eyes that means he's getting ready to say something sappy like You will always be beautiful to me. I stop him before he can, wrapping my arms around him.

"Why did I waste so much time?" I ask, voice breathless with anger and frustration. "There have been so many men. So many trivial relationships. Why didn't I see what was right in front of me? Why didn't I know it was you from the very beginning?"

Frey's shoulders lift slightly. "Maybe we had to travel different roads to end up here. Maybe we weren't ready before now."

"You mean I wasn't ready." I push out of his arms and cross to the dresser to yank a couple of tissues out of a box sitting on top. After I've sopped up my dripping eyes and nose, I turn back to him. "I hope you never regret asking me to marry you."

He gives me a teasing smile. "Would it do any good?"

"Fuck, no. You're committed now."

"Ah." Frey closes the distance between us and pulls me back against his chest. "There's the romantic little lady I've grown to know and love."

"You want romance?" I glance at my watch. "We have half an hour until we have to go down to lunch." I cross to the bedroom door and lock it. "John-John and Trish are getting to know each other." I take his hand and lead him to the bed. "Mom says she doesn't need my help to get ready." I give him a push with both hands and he falls back. "I'm feeling a little insecure about our relationship. I think a little romance is just what I need, too."

I've lowered myself on Frey so that the length of our bodies press together.

"Insecure, huh?" Frey says. In one smooth motion, he's reversed our positions, pinning me beneath him as he reaches down to run a hand from my thigh to my breast. "Let's see what I can do about that."

His fingers are in my hair and his mouth hot against mine. You'd think it would be difficult to undress each other, lying like that and unwilling to break off a kiss that has my blood raging. But we manage. I don't need to be coaxed or manipulated into being ready, either. When I feel Frey, his hardness, his heat, I take him right in. And when he nuzzles his neck against my lips, I know he's ready, too. I breathe him in, bare my teeth and find the spot.

His body tenses when I break through, just as mine tenses with the first mouthful of his blood. The rest is a tornado of desire and excitement, spiraling up and up, catching us in a whirlwind of passion that doesn't end until our bodies have nothing left to give.

* * *

WE'VE GATHERED AROUND THE DINING ROOM TABLE, A banquet of fresh breads and cheeses, fruit, olives, grilled salmon and Parmesan risotto laid out in a splendid array in front of us.

John-John's eyes widen. "Do you eat lunch like this every day?"

My father laughs. "Just about. What would you like to try first?"

He busies himself helping John-John fill a plate. I look toward the stairs where I expect to see my mother descend. For once, I won't have to pretend to eat. Nor will I have to feign not being hungry. Once the euphoria of lovemaking with Frey wore off, my stomach was once more in turmoil over Mom's condition. I couldn't eat a bite even if it were vampirically possible.

Frey and Trish are chatting about attending school here in France and how it differs from school in the States. I let my gaze drift around the table. It's remarkable how comfortable we all are, how ordinary this feels when the situation is anything but.

My folks, Trish, human. Frey, John-John and I, not.

Before we came down, Frey and I took a moment to let John-John know that my parents were unaware that I was a vampire and if I seemed to look like I was eating food that was why. He promised not to say anything, though I could feel his surprise and confusion that I wouldn't want to share something so important with my parents. We promised to talk to him about the situation later.

I hear a rustle from the hall and my mom is standing in the doorway, her eyes bright, her smile wide as she joins us. She has a scarf tied around her hair and is wearing a shift of multicolored silk over a pair of dark leggings. I jump up to hold out her chair.

She gives me the eye. "Don't fawn over me, Anna," she scolds. But she grabs my hand and squeezes before looking across at John-John. "And who is this handsome young man?"

Frey brings John-John over to stand by her chair. "Mrs. Strong, this is my son, John-John."

John-John holds out a hand, but Mom leans over and hugs him instead. "I am so pleased to meet you," she says. "Would you like to call me Anita?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for letting me visit."

Mom pulls back and winks at Frey. "Daniel, you have a very polite son. Is he always so well behaved?"

Frey and John-John exchange conspiratorial grins and father and son return to their places.

Lunch goes smoothly although I find I can't take my eyes off my mother. She's relaxed and the conversation flows smoothly, touching on every topic except the one that brought us together.

She managed to avoid it when I was alone with her, too, diverting the talk from her condition to my engagement.

When lunch is over, Dad takes Frey on a tour of the property while Trish and John-John leave to see the horses next door.

Mom and I start to clear the table. The housekeeper, Catherine, appears to finish the job, sending us to the living room. In her heavy Irish brogue, she promises to follow with coffee, so I hook my arm in Mom's and we settle into comfortable chairs around a big window overlooking the vineyard.

Mom's chin is set, her back straight. When she meets my eyes, I wonder if she's ready.

Ready to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.                       
       
           



       CHAPTER 10




"JOHN-JOHN IS A REMARKABLE YOUNG MAN."

Mom opens the conversation with a sigh of contentment.

And another diversion.

But I smile. "Yes, he is."

"And you and Daniel? How did you two become a couple? When did you become a couple? Last time we saw you, you were dating that reporter from CBS."

I laugh. "Yep. That wasn't meant to be."

Mom tilts her head to study me. "But I can see you're in love. And I can see Daniel loves you. It makes me very happy. It's what every parent wishes for their child. I'm so glad you found each other. Especially now . . ."

Catherine appears in the doorway, a tray in her hand. She's a large woman, stocky, wearing a plain shift of heavy cotton over which she's layered a starched white apron. She has a kind, moon-round face framed by a mane of gray hair pulled into a disheveled knot at the top of her head. She sets the tray on a table between Mom and me and pours us each a cup of coffee.

"Can I get you anything else?"

We both shake our heads. She starts for the door but pauses to turn and add, "Now don't overtire yourself, missus. Remember the doctor said you should get plenty of rest."

We stare at her retreating back as if knowing this is the signal we've been waiting for.

"What else do the doctors say?" I ask quietly.

Mom takes a sip of her coffee, places the cup carefully back on its saucer. She doesn't look at me but rather fixes her gaze on the vineyards outside the window. "Stage four, inoperable, caught too late for conventional cancer treatments." She rattles through the list briskly, matter-of-factly, unemotionally.

I can't be so dispassionate. "How can they be so sure? There are new breakthroughs every day. There are cancer treatment centers in the United States that are making tremendous progress. We could get you admitted to one of them now. Today. I have my jet here-"

Mom reaches over and stills my windmilling hands. "Anna, stop. Believe me, if I thought there was a chance, I would leave right now. But I don't want to spend my last days being kept alive by tubes in some sterile ward. Look at what I have here." She gestures to the window. "This beautiful place. Surrounded by the people I love most. I want the last things I see to be sunlight and vineyards and the faces of my family. You can understand that, can't you?"

I want to scream, No! I want you to fight!

But I do understand, so I whisper, "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. Not ever. I'll always be with you and Trish and now John-John. Family is a bond that transcends life and death."

She doesn't say it, but with her last words I know she's thinking of my brother. The son she lost so many years ago. She believes they'll be reunited. It's a hallmark of her faith. It's what's giving her grace and courage now.

Is it what's keeping her from seeking treatment?

Immediately, I feel a pang of guilt. I know my mother well enough to know she wouldn't forsake Trish or me. She wouldn't choose the dead over the living. Still, I plan to question my father, make sure they've exhausted every possible remedy, procedure or technique that might improve her condition.

I catch Mom peering at me, eyes narrowed. "Don't go badgering your father about this," she says.

"What? You're psychic now?"

"Not psychic. I just know how you think. Believe me, your father has Googled, called about and written to anyone he thought might be of help. Trust me, Anna. Please. Let's enjoy the time we have left. I want to get to know John-John and catch up with Daniel. It's been a while since I heard anything about my school."