out the
room, and then settled onto a raised elbow in order to look down at
him. Grimm didn’t fight locking gazes with her. She was his mate.
And he was one lucky fellow. She was beautiful. Candlelight imbued
everything with warm soft light, shadowing some places. Enhancing
others. Gazing into her eyes was mesmeric. He was willing prey.
Baited. Snagged. Caught.
Forever.
She hadn’t used artificial means to darken or
thicken or lengthen her lashes. No need. They were a darker shade
than her hair. Her eyes were a light gray shade. Maybe tinted
slightly with green. They complemented a peaches-and-cream
complexion that contained the slightest dusting of freckles across
the bridge of her nose. She might be of Irish descent. He couldn’t
tell and didn’t care. Gold streaks ran her brown hair as if she was
about in the sun often. It was middle-back length. Locks of it
trailed about her shoulders and arms like fringe from a silken
cloak. He didn’t recollect pulling her pony-tail binding out. Or
how. Or when.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?” he asked.
“Why don’t you have anybody to talk to? Don’t
you have any friends?”
“No.”
“No childhood friends, either?”
That was so amusing, he chuckled slightly.
Childhood friends? He’d had the protection of his mother until he
turned thirteen. She wasn’t even in her grave before he’d been
shunted out to the bunkhouse with the ranch hands. That gained him
the bullying of just about everyone. He’d already been big for his
age. That’s when he got strong. Tough. Resilient. Powerful. The
bullying hadn’t lasted long.
“Well?”
“Not many about the ranch.”
“The ranch?”
“I worked the ranch. Cattle mostly.
Horses.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a cattle
baron.”
His lips twitched in amusement. He kept it to
himself. He didn’t dare smile yet. Not until he retracted his
fangs. That required concentration and effort and his body was too
supremely sated to work at either. “I’m the poor relation. Black
sheep. Remember?”
She looked about again. “This doesn’t look
very poor to me.”
The smile broadened. He had to consciously
keep his lips from showing his secret. Not yet. Not until they knew
each other better. A lot better.
“I don’t like poverty.”
“Who does? That doesn’t change life
much.”
“I did something about it.”
“How?”
“I’ve... had a lot of time.”
“Time? I have time now. I quit college after
getting my BA in history, of all things. There are no jobs in the
field. So, I had a choice. Change my major and return to college
and rack up more bills I’d have a harder time repaying, or find a
job that paid so I could stay afloat. It’s a vicious cycle. If you
go to college, you can’t afford to eat. And if you get a job, you
can’t afford to be in college. And if you leave college, you have
to start paying the bills for your education, but if you stay in
college, you still can’t eat while the bills just keep piling up
that you’ll have to eventually pay. And bonus. You can’t find a job
in your chosen field anyway. Like I said. Vicious cycle. I mean,
look at me. I’m a Confidential Medical Records Technician for a
walk-in clinic in Omaha. That’s a fancy word for a filing clerk who
keeps her mouth shut.”
“I had a different kind of time, Love.”
She stiffened, then relaxed. When she spoke
her voice contained a slight tremor. He cursed the slip of tongue.
Too soon, Grimm
.
“Okay. I’m listening. Explain your concept of
time.”
That was a loaded question. He’d had more
than a century of time. And he got paid well for his assignments
from the Vampire Assassin League. Very well. Grimm stuck his tongue
into a cheek, slicing it against a fang as he considered what to
tell her.
“I like to carve.”
“Carve?”
“I’m good with my hands.”
“I’ll say. Oh. You mean, carve. With
wood
.”
The sauciest grin put two dimples into her
cheeks as she flicked her eyes away. A
room, and then settled onto a raised elbow in order to look down at
him. Grimm didn’t fight locking gazes with her. She was his mate.
And he was one lucky fellow. She was beautiful. Candlelight imbued
everything with warm soft light, shadowing some places. Enhancing
others. Gazing into her eyes was mesmeric. He was willing prey.
Baited. Snagged. Caught.
Forever.
She hadn’t used artificial means to darken or
thicken or lengthen her lashes. No need. They were a darker shade
than her hair. Her eyes were a light gray shade. Maybe tinted
slightly with green. They complemented a peaches-and-cream
complexion that contained the slightest dusting of freckles across
the bridge of her nose. She might be of Irish descent. He couldn’t
tell and didn’t care. Gold streaks ran her brown hair as if she was
about in the sun often. It was middle-back length. Locks of it
trailed about her shoulders and arms like fringe from a silken
cloak. He didn’t recollect pulling her pony-tail binding out. Or
how. Or when.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?” he asked.
“Why don’t you have anybody to talk to? Don’t
you have any friends?”
“No.”
“No childhood friends, either?”
That was so amusing, he chuckled slightly.
Childhood friends? He’d had the protection of his mother until he
turned thirteen. She wasn’t even in her grave before he’d been
shunted out to the bunkhouse with the ranch hands. That gained him
the bullying of just about everyone. He’d already been big for his
age. That’s when he got strong. Tough. Resilient. Powerful. The
bullying hadn’t lasted long.
“Well?”
“Not many about the ranch.”
“The ranch?”
“I worked the ranch. Cattle mostly.
Horses.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a cattle
baron.”
His lips twitched in amusement. He kept it to
himself. He didn’t dare smile yet. Not until he retracted his
fangs. That required concentration and effort and his body was too
supremely sated to work at either. “I’m the poor relation. Black
sheep. Remember?”
She looked about again. “This doesn’t look
very poor to me.”
The smile broadened. He had to consciously
keep his lips from showing his secret. Not yet. Not until they knew
each other better. A lot better.
“I don’t like poverty.”
“Who does? That doesn’t change life
much.”
“I did something about it.”
“How?”
“I’ve... had a lot of time.”
“Time? I have time now. I quit college after
getting my BA in history, of all things. There are no jobs in the
field. So, I had a choice. Change my major and return to college
and rack up more bills I’d have a harder time repaying, or find a
job that paid so I could stay afloat. It’s a vicious cycle. If you
go to college, you can’t afford to eat. And if you get a job, you
can’t afford to be in college. And if you leave college, you have
to start paying the bills for your education, but if you stay in
college, you still can’t eat while the bills just keep piling up
that you’ll have to eventually pay. And bonus. You can’t find a job
in your chosen field anyway. Like I said. Vicious cycle. I mean,
look at me. I’m a Confidential Medical Records Technician for a
walk-in clinic in Omaha. That’s a fancy word for a filing clerk who
keeps her mouth shut.”
“I had a different kind of time, Love.”
She stiffened, then relaxed. When she spoke
her voice contained a slight tremor. He cursed the slip of tongue.
Too soon, Grimm
.
“Okay. I’m listening. Explain your concept of
time.”
That was a loaded question. He’d had more
than a century of time. And he got paid well for his assignments
from the Vampire Assassin League. Very well. Grimm stuck his tongue
into a cheek, slicing it against a fang as he considered what to
tell her.
“I like to carve.”
“Carve?”
“I’m good with my hands.”
“I’ll say. Oh. You mean, carve. With
wood
.”
The sauciest grin put two dimples into her
cheeks as she flicked her eyes away. A
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