“I guess not,” Quill agreed. Grabbing her bag, he headed for the hallway. “The bedrooms are this way.”
Callie followed him, her gaze darting right and left. Two good-sized bedrooms, each with its own bath, faced each other across the hall. The master bedroom was located at the end of the corridor behind a pair of elegant double doors.
“For milady,” he said, opening one.
Callie let out a soft gasp. The room was beautiful, with its own TV, bathroom, and fireplace. The walls were a warm, pale yellow. Cream-colored curtains graced the windows, and a matching quilted spread covered a king-sized bed. A large painting of a waterfall hung over the fireplace. A tall shelf held DVDs and books.
Quill smiled. “I think you’ll be comfortable here.”
“This must be costing a fortune.”
“Only a small one,” he said, setting her suitcase on the bed. “Why don’t you get settled in while I go back and get the rest of our things?”
“Okay.”
When Quill left the room, Ebony padded through the door, let out a long meow, and jumped up on the bed.
“I should have named you Cleopatra,” Callie remarked as the cat yawned, stretched, and made herself comfortable on one of the pillows. “You certainly act like the queen of the castle.”
Deciding unpacking could wait, Callie went into the bathroom, thinking that a nice long, hot bath was just what she needed. She rummaged in her suitcase for her nightgown and robe and laid them on the bed, then dug around until she found a bottle of bubble bath. She added a generous amount to the water, undressed, and slid into the tub.
* * *
Quill returned to Callie’s house to pick up the rest of her things. While he was there, he double-checked to make sure all the doors and windows were securely locked. He parked her VW next to the Jag in the garage, then warded the house and yard again before going to his lair to pick up his clothes.
In the living room, he did a slow turn. He had spent the last ten years here and it meant nothing to him but a place to rest. Callie’s house had been the first home he’d had since leaving his parents’ residence decades ago.
He rarely thought of those days in Hungary. As a boy, he hadn’t thought there was anything strange about having a father who slept during the day. Lots of men worked nights and slept days. It wasn’t until he’d hit puberty that his parents had told him the truth—his father was a vampire and in the next year or so, Quill would undergo a gradual change.
It hadn’t been easy. There had been times when he couldn’t think of anything but his desire for blood. In the beginning, the more he drank, the more he wanted. It had been hell. He hadn’t been allowed outside at night alone. Until he learned to control his lust, his father had been his constant companion, teaching him how to find prey, how to feed without taking too much. His kind boasted that they didn’t kill their prey, but that wasn’t always true with the young ones. There were fatal accidents now and then, though they were rare.
Quill had come close on one or two occasions, but his father had always been there to stop him, to teach him how to listen to the rhythm of his prey’s heartbeat for the warning that his prey’s life was in danger. He learned that going without regular food for long periods of time increased his desire for blood, and so he made it a point to eat dinner with his mother a couple of times a week.
He smiled at the memory. His mother was a remarkable woman, wise beyond her years, devoted to her husband and son, and yet she managed to live a full life as a schoolteacher. She was still teaching.
Perhaps one day he would take Callie to Australia to meet his parents.
* * *
It took only moments to return to Montana. The lights were on, the house quiet. Had Callie gone to bed? He left their luggage by the door, put the crate holding the cat box on the floor, set the carton holding her grandmother’s things next to it, then padded down the hallway to the master bedroom.
Curled up on a pillow, Ebony lifted her head and hissed at him when he entered the room.