as if they were going to break through his skin. When he'd bared his teeth, his fangs had been longer than when she'd first seen them. As if they'd grown.
His beautiful face had been contorted with agony.
Was that what she was in for?
A rapping noise came from the other room, as though someone was knocking on a window. She heard Boo meow in welcome.
Beth put her head cautiously around the doorjamb.
There was someone at the slider. Someone big.
"Wrath?" She rushed over and opened the door before she really looked.
When she saw what was on the other side, she wished she'd checked more carefully first.
It wasn't Wrath, although the man looked a little like him. Black hair was cut short. Harsh face. Intense dark blue eyes. A whole lot of leather.
His nostrils flared and he frowned, staring at her hard. But then he seemed to catch himself.
"Beth?" His voice was deep, but friendly. And as the man smiled, fangs were revealed.
She didn't even jump.
Damn, she was getting used to the weirdness already.
"I'm Tohrment, a friend of Wrath's." The guy stuck his hand out. "You can call me Tohr."
She shook it, not sure what to say.
"I'm here to hang for a while. I'll just be outside if you need anything."
The man... vampire - shit, whatever he was - turned away and headed for the picnic table.
"Wait," she said. "Why don't you... Please come in."
He shrugged. "Okay."
As he stepped through the door, Boo meowed loudly and pawed at the man's shitkickers. The two greeted each other like long-lost friends, and when the vampire straightened, his leather jacket fell open. Daggers. Just like Wrath's. And she had a feeling that the kind of weapons Butch had peeled off Wrath were hiding in this man's pockets, too.
"Would you like something to drink?" She winced. Not blood. Please don't say blood.
He grinned at her, as if he knew what she was thinking. "You got any beer?"
Beer? He drank beer?
"Ah, yeah. Actually, I think I do." She disappeared into the kitchen. Brought back two Sam Adamses. She needed a belt right about now, too.
After all, she was playing hostess to a vampire. Her father had been a vampire.
Her lover was a vampire.
She tilted the beer back and drank hard.
Tohrment laughed softly. "Long night?"
"You have no idea," she replied, wiping her mouth.
"Oh, I might." The vampire sat down in her wing chair, his big body overflowing the arms and dwarfing the high back. "I'm glad I finally met you. Your father talked about you a lot."
"He did?"
"He was so damn proud of you. And you've got to know - he stayed away to protect you, not because he didn't love you."
"That's what Fritz said. Wrath, too."
"How're you getting along with him?"
"Wrath?"
"Yeah."
She felt a blush hit her cheeks and headed to the kitchen so he didn't catch her reaction. She grabbed a bag of cookies from the top of the fridge and put some on a plate.
"He's... he's... How do I put it?" She tried to think of a good answer.
"Actually, I think I know."
She came back and held out the plate. "Would you like some?"
"Oatmeal raisin," he said, taking three. "My favorite."
"You know, I thought vampires only drank blood."
"Nah. Necessary nutrients in it, but we need food, too."
"How about garlic?"
"Bring it on." He leaned back in the chair, munching happily. "I love the stuff roasted with a little olive oil."
Jeez. The guy was almost easygoing, she thought.
No, that wasn't right. His sharp eyes kept scanning the windows and the glass door, as if he were monitoring the periphery. She knew without a doubt that if he didn't like something he saw, he was going to be out of that chair in a heartbeat. And it wouldn't be to check locks. It'd be to attack.
He put another cookie in his mouth.
But at least he was relaxing to be around. Relatively speaking.
"You're not like Wrath," she blurted.
"No one's like Wrath."
"Yeah." She bit into her own cookie and sat down on the futon.
"He's a force of nature," Tohr said, tilting back his beer. "And he's deadly, no mistaking that. But there's no one who will take better care of you, assuming he chooses to do so. Which he has with you."
"How do you know?" she whispered, wondering what Wrath had told him.
Tohr cleared his throat, a flush hitting his cheeks. "He's marked you."
She frowned, looking down at herself.
"I can smell it," Tohr said. "The warning's all over you."