Harper stared at the slender mortal female with short, dark hair and a pinched, angry face. She was trembling, no doubt trying to fight the control Drina had taken of her.
"Sue?" he said finally, his voice as blank as his thoughts as he stared at Susan Harper. He hadn't seen the woman since Jenny's death, and his brain was having a little trouble accepting that Jenny's sister would be here at all, let alone pointing a weapon at him.
"Why can't I pull the trigger?" she growled, sounding furious. "I'm trying to, but my finger won't move."
Harper glanced to Drina.
"I woke up as she entered the room," Drina said quietly. "At first, I was half-asleep and thought it must be Leonius, but then I realized she was a woman and mortal and she wasn't going for Stephanie but heading for you. I waited to see what she was up to, but when she pointed the gun at you . . ."
Harper nodded, not needing her to tell him that she had taken control of the woman enough to prevent her harming anyone but leaving her free to think and speak. He shifted his gaze back to Sue; his eyes slid from her face to the gun and back, before he asked with bewilderment, "Why?"
"Because you killed Jenny," she said bitterly.
Harper sagged in his chair, his old friend guilt gliding through him like a ghost . . . Jenny's ghost. If he'd been the one controlling Sue at that moment, his control would have slipped, and he'd no doubt have a hole in his head. Fortunately, Drina didn't slip at this news, and after taking a moment to regather himself, he cleared his throat, and said quietly, "I never meant for that to happen, Susan. You must know that. I wanted to spend my life with Jenny. She was my life mate. I'd sooner kill myself than my life mate."
"She wasn't your life mate," Susan snapped with disgust. "Jenny didn't even like you. She only put up with you so you'd turn her. She bought into all your promises of young and beautiful and healthy forever . . . but you killed her."
Harper winced as those words whipped him. He didn't know which hurt him most: the suggestion that Jenny had only been using him or the reminder that she was dead because of him. Susan's saying that she hadn't even liked him fit with what Teddy had said the night he and Drina had flown back from Toronto in the helicopter, and he supposed it was possible. They'd only known each other a week or so before she'd agreed to the turn. And while he was immortal and had accepted her as his life mate the moment he couldn't read her, she was mortal. Mortals didn't understand the importance of being a life mate, didn't automatically recognize the gift of it. She may have just gone along with it to let him turn her. But he was sure that she would have eventually recognized that he was the only one she could find peace with and passion.
Harper frowned as he recalled that he hadn't experienced that passion with Jenny. He'd been putting it down to the fact that she'd kept him at arm's length, and still believed that. If she'd even allowed him to kiss her, they both would have been overwhelmed by it, he was sure. Just as he and Drina were constantly bedeviled by it.
Finally, he said solemnly, "She was my life mate, Susan. I couldn't read her."
Susan snorted. "Jenny figured that was the brain tumor."
Harper stilled, his heart seeming to stop in his chest at the words. It was Drina who growled, "Brain tumor?"
Eyes locked on Harper, Susan flashed an unpleasant smile that suggested she was enjoying his shock and dismay. "She was having headaches, and her vision would blur at times. She was also having trouble concentrating, and her memory was suffering. It turned out she had a tumor. They'd started chemo to try to shrink it before they operated, but then Jenny met you and decided she didn't need any more treatment at all. She'd just let you turn her and live forever."
"Harper?" Drina said quietly. "A brain tumor could prevent you reading her."
"She was my life mate, Dree," he said quietly. "I was eating. My appetites had been reawakened."
"We can always eat," she pointed out gently. "We just get tired of it and stop because it's a bother, not because we can't." She paused a moment to let that sink in, then asked, "Did the food taste as good then as it does now?"
Harper automatically opened his mouth to say yes, but caught himself and really thought about it. In truth, he realized, it hadn't. It had been okay, some of it tasty even, but he'd only eaten when the others had, and hadn't found himself stuffing himself until his stomach ached, or constantly wanting it as he did now.
"And you didn't have the shared dreams," she pointed out quietly.
Harper nodded silently, thinking that it wasn't just the lack of shared dreams but the lack of passion. He'd been eager to experience it with Jenny, but not eager enough to try to change her mind when she'd insisted they wait until after the turn. Harper had just let it go, thinking everything would be fine after he turned her. He certainly hadn't been obsessed with it as he had been since Drina had arrived here in Port Henry, his mind constantly undressing her and doing things to her that left him half-erect when she wasn't even in the damned room.
By the time Harper had actually kissed Drina outside that restaurant in Toronto, he'd already undressed and made love to her in his mind a hundred times. During their shopping expedition, he'd fantasized about her in every pair of pretty panties and bras she'd bought, and the black dress had been no better.
Harper had assured himself that it was just the appetites Jenny had reawakened, that they were making themselves known again now that some of his depression was easing, but those damned boots had kept him under a cold shower for nearly an hour as he'd got ready for their trip to the city, and it hadn't eased any in Toronto. As she'd spoken of Egypt, he'd imagined her dressed up like Cleopatra and mentally stripped away her clothes and laid her on a bed of pillows to sink his body into hers. As she'd told him about her time as a gladiator, his fantasy had switched to ravishing her in the middle of an arena with the crowds cheering him on.
It had been the same with each revelation of her life. In his mind, Harper had made love to Drina as a concubine, a duchess, a pirate, and a madam all before he'd even touched her. But even that hadn't prepared him for what happened when he'd finally kissed her there outside the restaurant. The passion that had exploded over him had been overwhelming, and he was quite sure that if the waiter hadn't happened along, he'd have made love to her right there pinned up against the wall.
Harper hadn't experienced anything like that with Jenny. He hadn't imagined her naked or dressed or anything. He'd mostly thought about how happy they would be once she was turned, and they were able to enjoy the shared pleasure and peace a life mate offered.
"Harper?" Drina said quietly.
"She wasn't my life mate," he acknowledged quietly.
When she released a small sigh, he glanced over curiously, surprised to note that she looked relieved, happy even. Harper took a moment to wonder if she had been jealous of Jenny but didn't have to think hard. He could still recall his rage at the idea of her going downstairs to give the doorman "the night of his life." He hadn't reacted much better to the idea of Marguerite finding her another life mate. Still, he smiled crookedly, and asked, "Were you jealous of Jenny?"
"Of course," she said simply, not taking her eyes or concentration off Susan. "I don't share well, even with ghosts."
Harper smiled faintly and reached over to squeeze her hand. He knew it wasn't well-done of him, but he actually liked that she'd been jealous.