The Reluctant Vampire(42)

"How do you know that?" Drina interrupted her teasing sharply.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "We've been through this. I can read your mind, remember?"

"Yes, but I wasn't thinking of it," Drina said at once, aware that Harper was glancing from the road, to her, to Stephanie in the rearview mirror with a troubled frown.

Stephanie shrugged. "You must be. Otherwise, how would I know what you two did?"

Drina stared at her silently, more than troubled. She hadn't been thinking of what she and Harper had done. She'd been thinking of the after, the waking up on the floor. Yet Stephanie apparently knew what had happened between her and Harper and obviously in detail. It should embarrass her, but she was too concerned by what the girl's apparently pulling-not just thoughts, but-actual memories from her mind could mean to worry about embarrassment.

Usually, for an immortal to access someone's memories, they had to get the person they were reading to recall them. Stephanie apparently could access them whether the person was thinking of them or not.

"You think I'm a freak now," Stephanie said unhappily.

"Not a freak," Drina said quietly. "Apparently very gifted."

The girl relaxed and smiled a little at that. "Gifted?"

"Very," Drina murmured, and turned in her seat to face front, doing her best to keep her thoughts as blank as possible. Stephanie's abilities weren't normal, but she didn't even want to get near that thought in the girl's presence. She needed to think, but away from Stephanie.

She also needed to find a chance to talk to Harper, Drina thought on a sigh. While she was glad he wasn't avoiding her this morning, he had last night, and his blowing hot and then cold was leaving her uncertain and worried about the future. She had started out her journey to Port Henry determined to be patient, but that was before she'd met and spent time with him. The more Drina got to know Harper, the more emotionally invested she became, and she'd started out pretty invested to begin with for the simple reason that he was her life mate.

The moment Drina had walked into Casey Cottage, tried to read him, failed, and acknowledged that Marguerite was right, and he was her life mate, she'd thrown in half her emotional chips. But with every conversation they had, and every experience they shared, she was throwing in more chips, and Drina was afraid of getting hurt here if his guilt proved too strong for him to put aside.

"Are you feeling all right, Stephanie? You look pale."

Harper glanced to the girl at Drina's words and frowned as he noted her pallor.

"I'm fine, hungry is all," Stephanie mumbled. "Can we stop and get a sundae or something on the way out? That'll settle my stomach."

"I don't think it's food you're hungry for," Drina said solemnly. "We've been at the mall for hours now, and you're a growing girl. You need to feed."

"I'll get the cooler out of the trunk and put it into the backseat before we leave. She can feed on the way back," Harper murmured, ushering them toward the exit nearest to where he'd parked.

"I don't want to feed," Stephanie complained, sounding as cranky as a five-year-old.

"I said you need to feed. Want doesn't come into it," Drina said firmly.

Harper couldn't help but notice this made Stephanie's lower lip protrude rebelliously. He suspected they would have a fight on their hands getting the girl to feed at this rate, and then noted the way she was rubbing her stomach, and said, "It will make your cramps go away."

"Whatever," Stephanie snapped, leading the way outside in a stomp.

"She just needs to feed," Drina murmured, excusing her behavior as if worried Harper might think badly of the girl.

"I know," he assured her, and then, finding it adorable that she would defend the girl like a mother bear with a cub, Harper slipped his arm around Drina's waist and drew her to his side to kiss her forehead. "You're going to be a good mother."

She turned a stunned face to him, then quickly looked forward again, and Harper smiled wryly. He supposed she hadn't yet considered the possibility of children. Not that he had, either. He hadn't really considered much at all yet.

Anders's words the night before had shaken Harper sufficiently to send him back to his room and into bed, where he'd lain contemplating the possibility of losing Drina to death. He'd been so wrapped up in his own emotional struggles, he hadn't even considered how it might affect her. Oh, certainly, she'd made him consider that if he didn't claim her, he might lose her to some possible alternate life mate, but that had seemed a far-off thing. Harper supposed, in his arrogance, he'd also imagined that he would have a chance to win her back in that distant future if his actions drove her away now.

But Anders's words had made him worry about her actually dying, killed as a direct result of her emotional upheaval and distraction. The possibility had scared the crap out of him and made him face what was important here. Jenny was dead, and while he felt responsible, there was nothing he could do to bring her back or rewrite what had happened. He had grieved and been wracked by guilt for a year and a half now. How much longer would his conscience demand he suffer for a death he never imagined, let alone intended? Did he really feel he needed to lose Drina, even temporarily, to make up for the loss of Jenny? And did he really want to risk losing her permanently to death just to satisfy that conscience?

The answer had been no, and Harper had finally gone to sleep around dawn having decided he wasn't going to avoid her anymore. It was time to put his guilt aside and embrace his good fortune, because he was definitely one lucky son of a bitch to be given a second chance at the brass ring of happiness with a life mate, especially so soon after receiving it the last time.

Harper wasn't foolish enough to think it would be easy. Deciding not to feel guilty was a first step, but he knew he would have to fight on occasion to keep to that decision. However, he was determined and felt sure he could do it . . . for Drina.

"Hurry up you two. Gawd, you're as slow as snails," Stephanie complained, shifting restlessly beside the car.

Harper heard Drina sigh with exasperation at the teen's moodiness and briefly tightened his arm around her waist in sympathy. He then dug his keys out of his pocket.