Dalton, Tymber - Brimstone Blues [Brimstone Vampires 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Tymber Dalton Page B

she did it, but wasn’t sure if she did. It had become an ingrained tic.
    Just like Rafael.
    Matthias nodded, and she followed him to the front door, then took a deep breath before walking in behind him. The condo was bachelor neat. Rafe had an assistant at work, but at home he preferred to be alone. It was smaller than she imagined, with a tidy eat-in kitchen and a small great room instead of separate living and dining rooms.
    One bedroom was obviously his, with a small master bath. The other bedroom was storage with a futon for the occasional guest.
    She closed her eyes and reached out, trying to feel Rafe, to sense him, to see if there was any residual essence of him left in the rooms.
    Nothing.
    “What are we looking for?” she quietly asked.
    “I need to find his paperwork.” Matthias sat at a desk in the living room and searched it. “Deeds, titles, all that. I have to process it. He preferred to keep his private paperwork here instead of at his office.”
    She examined a low shelf on one side of the room, no different than any other home. A few pictures, some of Rafe and Matthias, the colors faded with age but their faces unchanged. One taken last year, according to the time-date stamp.
    Rafe had a playful smile and intense blue eyes, like he was planning the next practical joke he’d play on you while you talked with him. You couldn’t not like him. He had a brooding humor unparalleled in anyone she’d ever met.
    All part of his act, she now knew, his defensive barrier hiding a sensitive, intelligent soul.
    She walked into Rafe’s bedroom while Matthias worked on his desk. On his dresser were assorted items—a watch, a small bowl with loose change, a couple of gas receipts. Dated two weeks ago. God, had it just been eleven days since his death?
    I won’t cry…I will not cry.
    On his bedside table were a few books, one on crystals, perhaps the one he’d mentioned loaning to her. Their dinner conversation replayed in her mind, when she’d asked him about his citrine ring. When she realized there was a lot more to him than met the eye.
    “What does it signify?”
    He shrugged, and when she released his hand she sensed his regret. “Protection. At least, that’s what the lore says. It’s always brought me good luck. It has a lot of properties, emotional and physical healing, psychic warning system. Heck, one book I’ve got says it even clears constipation.”
    He smiled as she laughed. Alone like this, she knew she was privileged to see the real man, not the mask he wore for everyone else. And he was sweet.
    “Remind me, I’ll loan you my book on crystals. I’ll bring it to the house next time I come down.” He paused. “When I say I don’t remember how long I’ve had it, that’s a fib. It’s over two hundred years old.” His voice was unusually quiet, sad. “I know I’m a pain in the ass but this was from the one person who could tame me. She knew she was dying. She was worried about me, what I’d do when she was gone, wanted me protected. She knew what I was immediately when we first met.”
    Taz sat on his neatly made bed and picked up the book. From its well-read condition, he’d spent plenty of time paging through it. When she thumbed through the book to the page on citrine, sure enough, constipation was listed as one of the issues supposedly remedied.
    Inside the bedside table she found an unopened box of condoms and a very, very old journal.
    She removed the journal and stroked the cover. She couldn’t begin to guess its age and part of her was afraid to open it. From the binding it looked to be well over a hundred years old. Taz finally worked up the nerve. Tucked inside the front cover she found an old, well-worn, laminated piece of parchment, with what looked like quill pen writing.
    My Dearest Rafael. I was afraid to tell you too soon for fear of your reaction. I do not wish for you to die, but to live after I go on. My spirit will always travel with you. Take this ring as a