Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,28
wasn't a lie, he thought ruefully. His blood was normal. For him.
"I don't believe you. You're hiding something. I know you are."
She stood frozen in place, her eyes blinking rapidly, her heart pounding even as her mind refused to accept what she was thinking. Good Lord, Gail was right! The thought that Alexander was a vampire was inconceivable, and yet it was the only thing that made sense. She had never seen him during the day. She had never seen him eat . . .
A faint smile curved Alexander's lips as he perceived her thoughts. He wasn't a vampire. Not in the true sense of the word, but he decided that was information best kept to himself. At least for the time being.
"Kara . . ." Alexander held out his hands in a gesture of appeal. "Kara, I assure you, I'm not a vampire.'"
"You're doing it again!" she exclaimed.
"Doing what?"
"Reading my mind. How do you do that?" Alex shook his head in denial. He would have to be more careful. "We talked about this once before, I think. After all, Gail came here looking for a vampire. It's only natural that the thought should linger in your mind. I've had the feeling ever since then that you thought she might be right. Come, I want to show you something."
She hesitated a moment, then followed him out of the den and into the kitchen, wondering what he wanted to show her.
"Look, Kara." He pointed at the window opposite him. "Look."
Confused, she glanced at their reflections in the window.
"Vampires cast no reflection, no shadow." He crossed the floor to the counter, picked up a banana. Peeled it. And took a bite. "They don't eat."
"But your cupboards are empty; you don't have any soap to wash dishes . . ."
"I don't cook." He tossed what was left of the banana into the trash. "I don't like to eat alone. When I get hungry, I go out." He shook his head at the doubtful expression on her face. "Will you feel better if I take you out to dinner on our way to Eagle Flats?"
"Maybe."
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Kara," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you."
She felt suddenly foolish. "Okay, so it was stupid of me to think you were a vampire. It's just that I've been so worried, so . . . so upset by everything that's happened."
"I know." He moved slowly toward her and held out his arms in silent invitation.
She hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, and then she stepped into his embrace, sighing as his arms closed around her.
He stroked her hair. "You'll come away with me, then?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
"Why do I have the feeling that you'll truss me up and toss me in the trunk of your car if I say no?"
"Probably because that's just what I'll do."
She wasn't altogether sure he was kidding.
"I think we should leave tonight."
She didn't want to go; she was afraid to stay. In the end, it was easier to give in. "Tonight!" She glanced at the jeans and sweatshirt Alexander had given her earlier. "I can't leave tonight. I need to go home and pack . . ." The words died in her throat. She couldn't go home.
"We'll buy whatever you need on the way."
"Where's my cell phone? I want to call Nana."
Alex shook his head. "Not now."
She stared at him in mutinous silence, but didn't argue. Calls could be traced.
He was relieved that she had decided to see things his way. "Just let me get a few of my things together, and we'll go."
Kara wandered through the house, trying to make some sense of what had happened, while Alexander packed. If none of the blood donors were at fault, maybe the problem was hers, and hers alone. Maybe her blood had always been abnormal and no one had ever detected it before. And maybe it was Alexander's blood that was at the root of whatever the problem was, and he was just afraid to tell her.
Going into the den, she sat down in his chair and closed her eyes. Maybe it hadn't been a blood donor at fault at all. Maybe Dr. Peterson had given her the wrong blood. Maybe the hospital had made some kind of mistake, and Barrett had kept her in isolation in hopes of correcting the problem before anyone else found out about it.
Kara smiled grimly. That made far more sense than anything else.