Immortal Ever After (Argeneau #18)

Valerie stared at Anders as her mind twisted itself in loops trying to sort things out, but in the end she had to acknowledge that the only way to get any answers was to let Anders explain. And the only way to do that was to have enough trust in the man to get out of this vehicle and ask him the questions. That shouldn’t be so hard. She’d been naked, with this man inside her body, just hours ago. She had trusted him with her body, surely she could trust him with her well-being, for God’s sake?

Anders sipped at the last of his iced cappuccino while he waited for Valerie to decide if she trusted him enough to get out or not. Whether she did or not was important. He needed her trust, and knew that right now it was a bit shaken. But Anders needed to know just how shaken . . . and if he could regain it.

Sighing, he pushed away from the truck and moved the ten feet to the paddock fence he’d parked in front of.

The day had started so well and with such promise. He’d thought he had more time, but Valerie’s encounter with Billie was forcing his hand. Well, her encounter with both Billie and Cindy. His mouth tightened as he thought of Cindy. He had suspected something had happened when Valerie had come out of the clinic. She’d seemed . . . off. Different. He couldn’t have guessed, though, that one of her cage mates from the house had been inside the clinic. What were the chances?

The sound of the SUV door opening reached his ears and Anders sighed with relief. She still trusted him a bit, now he just had to hope it was enough.

“I’m surprised you live on a farm,” Valerie said quietly as she reached the fence and leaned against it next to him.

“Most people are,” he acknowledged with a faint smile. “For some reason everyone seems to expect me to have a condo in the city or something.”

Valerie nodded. “I can see that. It’s because you’re so sleek and sexy.”

Anders blinked and glanced to her sharply. “Sleek and sexy?”

“Like you didn’t know?” she asked with amusement. “I’m sure I’m not the first gal who threw herself at you.”

“You didn’t throw yourself at me,” he said solemnly.

“Hmm,” Valerie murmured.

Anders watched a small smile claim her lips and then just as quickly fade.

“Why don’t they remember what happened to us?”

Straight to the point, he thought wryly and said, “A couple of the women were traumatized badly by their time in that house. Lucian thought it was in their best interests to remove those experiences from their memory and allow them to live a normal life without those experiences haunting them.”

“And they were willing to let that happen?” Valerie asked.

“They weren’t asked for permission,” Anders admitted reluctantly. He just knew that wouldn’t go over well and wasn’t surprised when her voice turned cold and hard.

“So, he just stole the memories without asking them if it was all right?”

Sighing wearily, he turned to face her and asked, “Do you really think they would have wanted to hold on to those memories? Do you enjoy the nightmares they give you?”

Valerie frowned and turned away, her face flushing.

Anders presumed she hadn’t thought he knew about those, but he’d held her in his arms through them just that morning in her room.

“So why didn’t they take my memories?” she asked sounding tired.

“They could, if you want them to,” he said quietly.

Valerie hesitated, biting her lip, and then asked, “What do they do? Hypnosis?”

“No. It’s more in-depth than that. They’d have to wipe out your memory of what happened in that house . . . and everything since,” he added solemnly.

“Everything since?” she asked, turning on him with amazement.

Anders nodded. “Everything. Leigh, Lucian, their house . . . me. They’d put new memories in their place.”

“Why?” Valerie asked. “I mean, sure, remove the memories of Igor and the house of horror, but why you guys?”

“Because remembering us might lead to your reclaiming the other memories,” he said gently. “After all, you were brought to the house to heal and recover from the injuries you got there. And we hunt people like Igor and his boss.”

“Oh.” She was silent, working it out in her head. Valerie was a clever woman, he wasn’t surprised when she said, “So would that mean you and I . . .”

“We couldn’t see each other again,” he said what he was pretty sure she wanted to ask, but just couldn’t. “Seeing me might bring back the other memories.”

“But seeing me didn’t bring back Cindy and Billie’s memories,” she protested. “Maybe—”

“Cindy and Billie never saw you,” he interrupted gently. “From what I understand, none of you saw each other except as shadows and silhouettes in that dark basement. And, fortunately, your voice is normal so unlikely to spark a memory for them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Normal?”

“I mean it isn’t unusually high like Billie’s, or sharp and measured like Cindy’s. It isn’t unusual enough to be memorable.”

“Thank you,” Valerie said dryly.

“You have a lovely voice,” he assured her.

“Just not a memorable one,” she said and before he could assure her that it was most memorable to him, Valerie continued, “So, Lucian called in the quacks to wipe the memories of the other women and then set them back in their lives. What happened to those supposed worries about the guy who kidnapped us? I thought that was why I was at Leigh and Lucian’s place?”

“We don’t really expect further trouble from the rogue who kidnapped you and the other women. If he’s smart, he’s moved on rather than risk our catching up with him,” Anders admitted.

“Then why am I at Leigh and Lucian’s?”

“You’re there to heal,” he said carefully.

“Ahh.” Valerie nodded. “Of course you couldn’t place me back in my old life minus the memories. The wound I gained in the house of horrors might spark my memory.”

Actually, they could. They simply would have had to give her memories of an accident to explain them, but she didn’t give Anders the chance to say as much.

“So I suppose they are waiting until I heal and then they’ll wipe my memory and place me back in my life. I’ll forget every moment of my time since being kidnapped.”

She was scowling and obviously angry, but he didn’t understand why until she added, “And all of this . . . whatever this is that’s going on between us won’t even have happened in my mind?” Valerie turned on him and accused, “So this is all just a short-term bang for you? No emotional entanglement, no clingy woman demanding to know what she means to you or expecting a relationship?”

Anders’s eyes widened as he realized where her thoughts were going, but again she didn’t give him the chance to respond, and barked, “Nice. How many women have you enjoyed such short-term affairs with? How many women have there been? Is half the female population of the GTA running around without a clue that they had mind-blowing sex with a hot hunk who—”

Anders shut her up by kissing her. It was the easiest way. Besides, he liked kissing her, and he really didn’t want to hear any more accusations of his having bedded half the Greater Toronto Area, or GTA, as it was called by locals. Especially when it had been centuries since he’d had sex before her. Ironically, he supposed it was fitting that his last name was taken from a monk.

The moment Valerie stopped fighting and kissed him back, Anders broke the kiss. He had to. Much more kissing and they’d be rolling around naked on the ground rather than talking, and right now, talking was more important.

Releasing her slowly, he set her a step away and waited for the dazed look to fade from her face. But the moment it did and he saw her memory and anger returning, he said, “I do not make a practice of making love to injured victims of the rogues we hunt. I have not bedded any other women in the GTA. In fact, it has been a very, very long time since I have been intimate with anyone. You are special, and I will explain just how special and answer all your other questions if you will give me the chance.”

Much to his relief, Valerie relaxed slowly and then nodded her head. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he agreed, letting out a slow breath, and then taking her arm, he led her toward the house. “Come on. I’ll show you my home and then we’ll sit down and talk.”

Chapter Thirteen

“And this is the kitchen.”

Valerie glanced around the cozy room, noting the bright yellow walls and warm wood cupboards. It was as surprising to her as the rest of the house. While Anders’s wardrobe seemed to consist of nothing but cold, lifeless black, his home was a plethora of color. The living room had been cream with red accents, his dining room had been burnt umber, his bedroom a vibrant maroon and gold. The guest bedrooms and bathrooms had all been bright blues, greens, and aquas. If his home revealed his personality, there was a lot of depth and passion to the often silent and almost stern man. But then she’d already tasted that passion and knew it existed. There was nothing cold about this man.

“What would you like to drink?” Anders asked, moving to the refrigerator, only to pause without opening it. When he turned back with a frown, she raised her eyebrows.

“Is something wrong?”

“I— No,” he said with a grimace. “I just remembered that I don’t have anything here for you to drink.”

She nodded slowly. “I suppose you didn’t bother with groceries since you were staying at Leigh and Lucian’s.”

“Right,” Anders glanced around before offering, “Would you like some water?”

Valerie smiled faintly. “Sure. Water is fine.”

Nodding, he moved toward the sink and then paused and turned slowly, his gaze sliding over the cupboards as if trying to recall where the glasses might be. After a moment, he muttered, “I’ll be right back,” and headed for the kitchen’s back door.

Valerie watched with amazement as he walked out of the house. Moving to the window over the sink, she watched him cross the yard and head for what looked like a guest house partially hidden by trees on the opposite side from the stables and paddock. Frowning, she waited until he disappeared from sight, then turned and surveyed the kitchen. The counters were spic-and-span, with nothing to clutter their sparkling granite surface, and the refrigerator and stove looked brand new, without a speck of grease or food drippings on them. It certainly didn’t look like the average bachelor pad.

Reaching for the nearest cupboard, Valerie opened it and then froze. It was completely empty. She let it swing closed and moved to the next cupboard and then the next before starting on the drawers and lower cupboards. Every single one was completely and utterly empty. There wasn’t a dish, cup, glass, pot or pan, or even a can or box of food in the cupboards.

Her gaze swung to the refrigerator and Valerie crossed to it and pulled it open, fully expecting to find the same situation there. Instead, she found the shelves lined with row after row of neatly stacked bags of blood.

The sound of the back door opening had her quickly slamming the door closed and whirling as Anders froze just inside the kitchen door, two steaming cups in hand. Neither of them moved or spoke for a moment, and then Anders said quietly, “I can explain. Please trust me enough to let me.”

Valerie stared, his words running through her mind. Please trust me enough to let me. It felt like an awful lot for him to ask when her heart was pounding like a mad thing in her chest and her mind was a riot of confusion and fear. The empty cupboards had confused her, but the sight of all that blood in the fridge had shaken her up. For some reason it made her think of the house of horrors, though she hadn’t seen any bagged blood there. And there could be at least a dozen perfectly reasonable explanations for him to have bagged blood in his fridge. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of even one at the moment.

“Please,” Anders repeated, and then held up the cups he carried. “I have coffee.”

A short bark of laughter escaped her and Valerie slapped her hand over her mouth. It might just be her, but it had sounded almost hysterical to her ears. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and moved silently to the kitchen table. It was a counter height table with barstool-type chairs. Valerie settled in one and then glanced to Anders.

There was no doubting his relief at her decision. Anders’s shoulders actually sagged under the weight of it as he moved to set the cups down on the table and sat down across from her.

“Right,” he said, pushing one of the cups toward her. “My caretaker had a fresh pot of coffee on.”