Secret Life of a Vampire(40)

"Maybe you're just insensitive."
She shot him an annoyed look.
His mouth twitched. "You are feeling it. Your heart is pounding. Your temperature has increased. I can feel the heat coming off you like-"
"All right." She clenched her teeth. "Is there a point to this? I thought we were going to concentrate on hearing voices."
"I'm trying to assess your capabilities. Your sense of touch seems to be working fine. I think it's only your hearing that's off-kilter."
A blast of cold air nearly knocked Lara on her back. With a shiver, she righted herself.
"You felt that." He watched her closely.
"Yes." The cold air swirled around her, sweeping icy tendrils across her brow. "You're trying to invade my mind?"
He nodded. "Normally, I would be in by now."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "You don't make people squawk and do the chicken dance, do you?"
Now he gave her an annoyed look. "Do you hear anything at all?"
She shut her eyes and focused. There was a buzzing behind her ears that sounded like radio static. "Are you saying something now?"
"Yes."
She wondered what. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, frowning with all the concentration she could muster. The buzzing sounded louder and more masculine, more like Jack, but she couldn't distinguish any individual words.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes. "This isn't working. All I'm getting from you is a buzz."
His mouth curled up. "Was it good for you?"
"No." She scowled at him. "It's like having a pesky mosquito in my head."
"Damned bloodsuckers. I hate them."
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"
He smiled slowly and leaned closer to her. "I need to touch you. Now."
She gulped. "I …  but … "
"On your head," he explained, still smiling. "I can make a stronger connection that way."
"Oh." She recalled how he had touched Megan's head in order to release her suppressed memories. "I guess that will be all right."
Her heart speeded up when he sat on the bed beside her. Icy currents swirled around her, brushing against her skin and raising goose bumps. She shivered.
He rested a hand on top of her hand. "Concentrate."
She closed her eyes, and the buzzing returned. It was deep and masculine now. It ricocheted from one ear to the other, a jumble of words that she couldn't isolate. The harder she tried, the more her temples throbbed.
"Can you hear me?" he whispered.
She shook her head.
His fingers tightened their grip, digging into her scalp. A sudden burst of pain stabbed like an icy dagger between her eyes. With a gasp, she fell back and broke contact.
"Ow." She rubbed her brow. "What the hell was that?"
"I used too much power. I'm sorry."
"It's just a headache." She massaged her throbbing temples. "It'll be worth it if this helps keep me alive."
"I would do anything to keep you alive."
"That makes two of us." She scooted back on the bed so she could rest her back against the wall. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the pain in her head to subside.
I'm still in love with you.
Her eyes flew open. "We shouldn't talk about that."
"I didn't say anything."
"But … " She could have sworn she'd heard him speak. Had it been wishful thinking? She caught her breath when she realized what had happened.
She'd heard his thoughts. He was still in love with her! Before she could think of a response, her mind filled with static. The throbbing increased, then she heard a few words.
 …  hear me?
"I heard the end of that." She gave him a wary look. "Can you hear my thoughts?"
He shook his head slightly. "Not very well. I mostly feel your pain."
"Oh, sorry." Though she was greatly relieved that he couldn't read her mind. She sure didn't want him to know that she still loved him. Don't even think that. Think about pink elephants. She winced as a damned elephant galloped across her brain.
At least the cold air had dissipated. That had to mean that Jack had stopped trying to communicate with her telepathically.
She motioned toward her desk. "I have some aspirin in my handbag."
Apparently, he could take a hint. He jumped up and passed the bag to her. "Do you need anything to drink?"
"Yes. There's a vending machine down the hall."
"I'll be right back." He left the room.
"Aargh." Lara collapsed on the bed. His incredible thought kept echoing in her aching head. I'm still in love with you. What was she going to do? The most wonderful man on earth loved her, but he was a vampire.
Her reclining position made her head hurt even worse, so she sat back up. She retrieved the aspirin bottle from her handbag and struggled with the childproof cap. Dammit. She'd be able to do this if her hands weren't shaking. I'm still in love with you.
Jack slipped back into her room, carrying a diet cola and bottled water. "I didn't know which one you'd want."
The world was a bizarre place when the most considerate man she'd ever met was a vampire. "I'll take the water. Thanks." She popped two aspirin in her mouth and drank.
He set the cola on her desk, then sat in the chair.
Lara rested her head against the wall. Talk about something safe. "So …  do vampires ever get sick?"
"It hurts like hell if we're deprived of blood," he answered quietly. "We can be poisoned, burned, or wounded, but we usually heal during our death-sleep."
"Death-sleep?" She grimaced, then stopped because it hurt too much. "You're actually dead when you sleep?"
He gave her a wry look. "That's why we're called the Undead."
She shuddered. No wonder he'd never returned her calls during the day. He wasn't being rude, just dead. As far as excuses went, it was pretty good, but she hated to think of him as dead. "Are you fully alive now?"
His mouth thinned with annoyance. "You've heard my heartbeat. I'm as alive as any mortal right now. And, in case you've forgotten, I'm fully functional."
She looked away to keep from glancing at his jeans. She'd felt an erection there several times. Time to change the subject. "So …  are you really the son of Casanova?"
His frown deepened. "Yes."
She'd fallen for a real Casanova. "Why don't you use the Casanova name?"
He shifted in his chair. "Are you feeling any better now?"
"Not really." She wondered why he'd changed the subject. "You didn't answer-" She stopped when he suddenly removed one of her athletic shoes. "What are you doing?"
He pulled off the other shoe, then removed her socks. "You're in pain. I want to help you relax." He scooted the chair forward so he could rest her feet in his lap.
She stifled a moan when his thumbs pressed into the soles of her feet. It felt so good. Her feet had been sore from wandering all over campus to check the residence halls for Apollo's flyer. "Have you ever had trouble before? I mean, invading someone's mind?"
"No. You're the only one." He tugged gently on her toes. "I think it has something to do with the car accident you were in."
She winced. "You know about that?"
He nodded and turned his attention to her other foot. "I read a newspaper article about it online. I'm very sorry for the suffering you endured."
"Thanks." Her current suffering was actually declining. Jack's foot massage was doing wonders. He could
do more than your feet. She chased that errant thought away. Thank God he wasn't reading her mind right now. "I was in a coma for a week. They didn't think I'd make it."
Jack continued the massage. "You're a fighter. I admire that about you."
He admired her? That felt even better than the foot massage. And the massage was damned good. "The accident changed my life. It nearly killed me, but in a weird way, it was the best thing that could have happened to me."
His hands stilled. "How can that be?"
She gave him a wry smile. "It ruined my mother's plans for world domination. She wanted me to be Miss Louisiana, then Miss USA, and then of course, Miss Universe."
He resumed the massage. "That's not what you wanted?"
"I didn't know any better. As soon as I could walk, my mother was entering me in pageants. At the age of four, I won the prestigious title of Little Miss Mudbug."
He grimaced. "Mudbug?"
"It's a crawdad." When Jack still looked confused, she waved a hand in dismissal. "It doesn't matter. Suffice it to say, my mom is crazy. She's fifty-two years old and still entering pageants. If she can't find one to enter, she invents one, like Miss NOLA Plus Size. She'll actually wear a sash and tiara to go shopping."
"How …  odd." Jack slipped a hand into her loose cargo pants and massaged her calf.
Lara sighed with pleasure. Her legs had been sore ever since the FBI had tried to kill her with marathon exercise sessions. She wondered why she was telling Jack her life story, but he was such a good listener, not to mention massage therapist, that she didn't want to stop.
"Mom was so excited when I won Miss Teen Louisiana. But after fourteen years of entering pageants, I wanted to quit. Mom would go ballistic every time I even mentioned quitting. So I made sure my pageant career was ruined."
Jack switched to her other calf. "What did you do?"
"When I was nineteen, I was a finalist in the Miss Louisiana competition. They did the part where they ask you a question onstage. It's usually something like, What change would you like to see in the world? and the usual answer is, 'World peace.'"