“Um, okay.”
“While Roland is busy cursing his cat and trying to talk it out of rumbling with an apparently rotund raccoon, he’ll be too distracted to listen to our conversation.”
“You aren’t going to ask me out, are you?”
He smiled. “No, I can see that Roland has already snared your interest, just as you have snared his. Anyone with eyes can see the affection growing between you.”
“We’ve only known each other for a day,” Sarah protested weakly. He was right, though … at least on her end of it. Roland definitely made her heart go pitter-patter and she liked him more with every minute she spent in his company.
Marcus shrugged. “It happens that way sometimes. And since it appears to be happening that way for the two of you, I thought you should know a couple of things.”
“Okay.” She really didn’t know what else to say.
“The first is that Roland has serious trust issues.”
She smiled. “I already knew that one.” It didn’t take a genius to recognize Roland’s lack of faith in others.
“The fact that he has welcomed you into his home speaks volumes.”
“Not really. I didn’t exactly give him a choice.”
“Believe me. He had a choice. He could have easily pawned you off on me or Lisette or sent you to one of the safe houses our human colleagues maintain if he didn’t want you here.”
Hmm. That was thought-provoking.
“I razz Roland about his inherent distrust,” Marcus continued earnestly, “but the truth is it has tragic origins. I won’t go into details. Suffice it to say he has been royally fucked over not once, not twice, but three times by people he loved and trusted above all others. And each betrayal nearly cost him his life.”
Had Mary the twit been one of those who had betrayed him? Sarah wondered.
“I wasn’t there for the first two, but I had a front-row seat for the third.” He shook his head, regret crowding his features. “Which is why, after eight centuries of friendship, I try not to let it bother me that a part of him still secretly expects me to turn on him and stab him in the back.”
Roland didn’t trust Marcus after eight centuries of friendship?
Maybe his trust issues went deeper than she had thought.
“Anyway, I said all that to say this, my second point: You seem like a very nice woman. You’re smart and attractive and are handling all of this exceedingly well.”
She had fled into the forest, thinking them monsters. That was handling this well? “What exactly are you trying to say, Marcus?”
“Simply this. I don’t know if you’re planning to leave at the earliest opportunity or linger to help us sort this out. Whether you’re going to keep things casual between you and Roland or will try to break past his barriers and pursue a relationship with him.”
Sarah stared at him in disbelief. “Are you asking me what my intentions are?”
He snorted. “Roland would be mortified were I to do anything so horrific. No, I merely thought it pertinent to mention that I consider myself to be an easygoing guy. However—and I cannot stress this enough—should you unwisely choose to betray Roland, I will not hesitate to kill you.”
There was nothing easygoing in his expression when he said it. Sarah didn’t doubt for a minute he would carry through on his threat.
“I have no intention of betraying him.”
He smiled and picked up his fork. “We’re good then.” Once more the genial fellow, he tucked into the remainder of his meal.
“You know,” she said slowly, “I realize you’re only looking out for him, but if you’ve given that warning to every woman he’s had dinner with, you’ve probably made him miss out on a lot of second dates.”
He shook his head. “You’re the first woman he’s shown this much interest in in centuries.”
“I am?”
“Yes, and he would be equally mortified to know I’d told you that, so …”
“Mum’s the word.”
“Thank you.”
A faint yowling met her ears.
Sarah rehashed Marcus’s words. “Was one of the people who betrayed him Mary?”
“Yes.” He drank several swallows of tea.
She would have questioned him further had he not placed a finger to his lips and looked pointedly at the back door.
Sarah swiveled in her seat, waiting.
A low howling that really did sound like a wolf filtered in, accompanied by the rumble of Roland’s voice.
The door swung inward and Roland entered, carrying a gray tabby that looked like it wasn’t yet full grown. The fur on its striped and speckled back was bristling as it licked its lips repeatedly. One last howl escaped it before Roland closed the door, locked it, and set his burden gently on the floor.
“Was it a raccoon?” Sarah asked and smiled when he rolled his eyes.
“The biggest damned raccoon I’ve ever seen. I’m fairly certain it was rabid, but did that deter him? No.”
The cocky little cat trotted into the kitchen ahead of him, then stopped short when he saw her and Marcus, nearly tripping Roland.
“Damn it, Nietzsche.”
Laughing, Sarah made kissy noises to draw him nearer. Nietzsche regarded her uncertainly and slunk closer to Roland.
“He isn’t used to strangers,” Roland said apologetically. “He’ll warm up to you once his belly is full and his insatiable curiosity kicks in.” Reaching up, he pulled a combination food and water dish down off the top of the refrigerator.
Sarah gathered her dirty dishes, stacked Roland’s on top of them, and carried them to the sink as Roland filled one bowl with water and the other with canned food that smelled very strongly of what could only be liver. After peeling off the label, he rinsed the can out and dropped it in a recycle bin hidden inside one of the lower cabinets.
Marcus followed and added his dishes to the pile in the sink. “I didn’t ask earlier. Is it okay if I stay the night, or do you want me to hit the road?”
Roland bent to put the dish on the floor. “Stay. We’ll give you a ride home tomorrow night.”
We.
“Thanks, man.”
Sarah smiled when Nietzsche began to hungrily devour his stinky meal.
Roland patted his striped head, then straightened and looked at Marcus. “How’s the knee?”
“Hurts like hell. I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Sarah and Roland bade him goodnight, then turned their attention to the dirty dishes.
“I’ll take care of this,” Roland said right about the time she realized he didn’t have a dishwasher and would be doing them by hand. “Why don’t you go relax in the living room? It’s been a long, difficult day.”
“Long day” was an understatement. It felt like insomnia had shoved her out of bed and driven her to go out and start digging a veggie garden weeks ago, not this morning.
And difficult?
Yes, parts of it had been scary as hell. Several parts, in fact. But she had really enjoyed the quieter times she had spent with Roland today … when it had been just the two of them, chatting and getting to know each other without the immortal revelations and vampires-trying-to-kill-you stuff interfering.
She wouldn’t mind recapturing some of that and maybe learning more about him.
“That’s okay. I’d rather be in here with you.”
She smiled when he looked at her with Why the hell would you want to be with me? stamped across his forehead and reached for a green and yellow sponge.
The man truly didn’t know his own appeal.
Normally, doing the dishes was one of the most tedious tasks Sarah performed each day. (Her little house didn’t have a dishwasher because there simply wasn’t room.) But, standing side by side with Roland, her shoulder touching his arm, their fingers brushing each time he handed her a soapy dish to rinse and place in the drainer, she had to admit it could be fun.
Roland was quiet at first, almost shy, making her wonder just how isolated a life he had led. Seth and Marcus had both nagged him about being reclusive. Was she really the only guest he had willingly brought here? Did he have no friends with whom he could kick back and relax?
Sarah suspected the answer was no and didn’t think there had been a great deal of happiness in his long life. Whenever she made him laugh, it emerged as that sort of rusty chuckle as though he had almost forgotten how to do it.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you, Roland.”
“You’re welcome.” He met her gaze from the corner of his eye and sent her a faint smile. “Much more welcome than Marcus.”
She grinned.
Electricity skittered up her arm when he placed a couple of sudsy forks in her hand, his fingers stroking her palm as they withdrew.
“You seemed rather … emphatic in your refusal to stay with your family,” he mentioned cautiously.
“Yeah, I kinda got shafted in the family department.”
“How so?”
Sarah grimaced. “When my mother was eighteen, she had the not-very-original idea to get pregnant on purpose in order to trap her boyfriend into marrying her. Her boyfriend told her to kiss his ass, walked away without a backward glance, and nine months later my brother Jason was born. When she was twenty, she decided to try again with man number two, who hung in there for a few miserable months, then left before I was born. After that—though there were no more children, thank goodness—it was one man after another after another. Some were nice to me and Jason. Some were indifferent. Some were physically or verbally abusive. It didn’t exactly endear her to me.”
Roland’s face darkened. “I know this is a personal question, but did any of them …?”
“Abuse me sexually?”
He nodded.
“No.” Sarah accepted another fork from him. “Although there was one she started bringing home when I was thirteen …” She shuddered, remembering. “He had a way of looking at me that made my skin crawl. Mom dumped him fairly quickly.”