How Knot to Marry a Vampire Page 8

  “Not yet,” he said, urging me along.

  “But we don’t even know if the guy is following,” I protested weakly.

  “I know how his people operate. I’m not taking that chance.” Then he offered to carry me like he had on our first date when my feet were killing me, but I declined.

  So we kept going, past the garbage bins and onto the main road.

  The crowd on Black Cat Boulevard was heavy, a sea of slow-moving tourists all around us. I felt like a fish trying to swim upstream. Luka kept a protective arm around me, pulling me close to him as he guided me through the people to where his car was parked. Traffic was fairly heavy too, but he knew a few backroads, and soon we were pulling up to a lovely old Victorian mansion on Phantom Lane.

  When we entered the house and he shut the door behind us, I felt as though I was going to collapse from exhaustion, both mental and physical. If not for Luka’s arm around my shoulder, I probably would have. As I was catching my breath, I noticed a beautifully ornate tapestry on one of the walls and made a mental note to examine it later. I was too numb to do it now.

  “Helen? Walter?” Luka called out.

  Luka’s sister appeared a moment later and brightened when she saw me. She was smartly dressed in trousers, penny loafers, and a plain purple top. A hand-knit scarf would’ve looked nice with that ensemble.

  “Penelope! Hello. So nice to—” Her gaze bounced from Luka to me then back to Luka. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s okay now,” Luka said. “Can you bring some food to the study?”

  “Of course,” she said and disappeared.

  With a hand on my lower back, Luka guided me gently but firmly through a set of double doors into a nearby room lined with books.

  “Sit.” He indicated an upholstered chair in front of a large mahogany table. I sank into it gratefully. He poured a glass of water from a decanter that sat on a side table (at least I hoped it was water) and handed it to me. “Drink.”

  My hands were shaking so badly that he had to help me. I took a sip of water and our eyes met over the edge of the glass. His concerned expression nearly took my breath away. I missed him. I really missed him. For the first time in days, I felt myself starting to relax.

  He pulled up a nearby chair, scooting it close to me until our knees were almost touching. “Are you okay?”

  “I…I think so. I just need a minute to catch my breath. And to process everything.”

  He flashed a wry smile. “You and me both.”

  Aunt Sylvia had told me to trust my instincts. Which I had, very quickly and without much thought. Man at library—bad. Luka—good. I just hoped my gut was right.

  I took another long drink and emptied the glass. “Do you…know who that guy at the library was?”

  Luka’s expression hardened. “I have a fairly good idea. But first, I’d like to know why you’re so interested in onyx scarabs. And don’t tell me it’s for a class.”

  “I…I can’t,” I said, Ghost Reverend’s warning still echoing in my head. “But you can tell me what you know about them.”

  It looked as though he was going to argue, but then he said, “They’re said to bring their owner great power. Or so I’ve heard.” He said this last part almost contemptuously. “In the wrong hands, they can be very dangerous.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.” I peered around the room at his books. “So…you’ve done a lot of research on them?”

  A tiny muscle in his jaw twitched. He was trying to decide how to answer. “Yes,” he said simply, offering nothing else.

  There was a sudden niggling at the back of my neck that felt like a swarm of baby spiders climbing out of their nest. A shiver went through me. I hated spiders. Even imaginary ones. There was more to this than he was willing to tell me.

  Luka rose and strode to one of the bookshelves. At first, I thought he was going to pull out a book, but he just stood there rubbing his beard, eyes distant.

  When he spoke again, his voice was so low that I had to strain to hear him. “Someone once wanted my help in collecting them. She was obsessed with them. After realizing what they could do, I told her no.”

  He’d used the same word when he’d told me about the vampire who’d turned him. I wasn’t bold enough to come straight out and ask if that was who he was referring to. “A client?”

  His eyes darkened and his jaw became more angular. “My maker.”

  I exhaled slowly, not realizing I had been holding my breath.

  Just then, Helen entered the room with a plate of finger sandwiches and scones. Behind her came a sturdy, middle-aged man with a military haircut. Carrying a tray with a teapot, cups, and saucers, he had a neck tattoo and wore a muscle shirt that said Kitchen Bitch. With quiet efficiency, they set the food on the table and turned to leave.

  “Walter,” Luka said. “Cancel your plans for the next several weeks.”

  The man looked at him quizzically. “We’ve got the Lancaster delivery next week. It’s the Rosko aquarelle. I’ll be escorting it from the museum in New York to your buyer in Nashville.”

  “Hire it out. Until further notice, Penelope’s safety during daylight hours will be your number one priority.”

  “My safety?” I said, gulping nervously. “But we eluded him. You mean, this isn’t over?”

  “Until the man at the library has been…taken care of,” Luka said, choosing his words carefully, “I believe that you’re still in danger.”

  All at once, the room felt claustrophobic, Luka’s assertion and the events of the night resting squarely on my shoulders. Jumping to my feet, I strode to the window and threw it open. It was an old house, so this required quite a bit of muscle. I took a few deep breaths of the cool, night air.

  I didn’t know exactly what he’d meant by ‘taken care of,’ but I had a pretty good idea.

  “What about at night?” Walter asked.

  “She’ll be here,” Luka replied. “With me.”

  “Wait. What?” My head snapped to attention. Luka wanted me to stay here with him? At his mansion?

  “Very good then.” Walter nodded curtly to Luka, then he and Helen left.

  Luka waited until the door shut, then turned to me. “You’re the guardian of an onyx scarab, correct?”

  This caught me by surprise. I thought we were going to discuss me staying here. And his assumption that I’d be okay with that. Which, to be honest, I kind of was okay with it.

  “Temporary guardian,” I said, correcting him before I had a chance to think about whether or not I should actually be admitting this fact to him. “How did you know?”

  “It’s the only thing that made sense. I’m rarely wrong.”

  Hmph. Must be nice to be so damned confident all the time.

  I wasn’t sure how much I could divulge to Luka. While he’d certainly helped me get away from the man at the library, I hadn’t forgotten what Ghost Reverend said about oversharing with people who weren’t blood relatives.

  Turned out, Luka was quite knowledgeable about onyx scarabs. He explained that they were extremely rare magical artifacts from ancient Egypt and only a handful were known to still be in existence.

  “How did it come to be in your possession?” he asked. “But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

  I smiled gratefully that he wasn’t going to pressure me. “You’re…uh…not a blood relative. I’m not sure what I can safely tell you without putting you in extreme danger.”

  He looked bewildered. “You’re concerned about…my safety?”

  I nodded. “A co-worker died because of his association with me. I…I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Oh Penelope.” In an instant, he was at my side and pulling me into his arms. “As a vampire, I am not subject to the same dangers.”

  He was clearly touched by my concern for him. We stood like that for a few moments, my cheek pressed against the hard plane of his chest as he held me close. I wanted to believe him. I
really did. This felt so good. Just about perfect, actually.

  “But you’re not a blood relative,” I protested, remembering Ghost Reverend’s warning at the falls. Just because Luka was immortal didn’t mean he couldn’t die. “I was told—”

  “The Others were right to issue such a warning. Those who seek the scarabs can detect the magic if someone other than the rightful guardian or a blood relative of a rightful guardian has knowledge of it. But the scarab’s location is difficult to track through vampires, probably because we drink the blood of many humans.” His strong hands rubbed my back, making me think he’d probably be really good at giving massages.

  He released me slowly. I took my seat again as he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a drink.

  “You know about the Others?” I asked.

  He threw back his drink in one gulp. “They’re a secret society tasked with keeping these magical objects hidden and separate from each other.”

  I selected a finger sandwich from Helen’s tray. It looked like chicken salad, one of my favorites. Luka knew much more than I did about what was going on, so I decided to tell him about Ghost Reverend. Just like Aunt Sylvia had, Luka listened thoughtfully.

  “So the reverend was a member of the Others,” he mused. Then realization dawned in his eyes. “Ghost Reverend appeared to you again that night at the falls, didn’t he?”

  I nodded. “And warned me that because you were a vampire, you would betray me.”

  Instead of arguing how that was wrong, he said, “Wise man. Temptation can be a problem for vampires. Which is why I won’t ask to see it.”

  I eyed my knitting bag warily. “What kind of magic is it?”

  “One by itself is relatively harmless. For instance, a witch would be better at casting spells and a werewolf could shift more easily. But get a few of them together and the power increases exponentially. Like giving a vampire the ability to daywalk.”

  I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “So that’s why your maker wanted them.”

  Lips pressed into a thin line, he nodded.

  After we finished eating, Luka rose. “I’ll take you to your room now.”

  To be honest, I couldn’t decide whether I was relieved to have my own space to sort out everything that had happened or disappointed that he hadn’t asked me to share his.

  On the way through the main entry hall, the tapestry caught my eye again. This time, I stopped to examine it.

  The colorful wall hanging depicted a pastoral scene along a riverbank. The glittering threads of the water literally appeared to be moving.

  Luka stood at my elbow. “Like it?”

  “It’s gorgeous.” I was literally in awe of the intricately woven design and couldn’t imagine the amount of handwork that went into it. “It reminds me of a Monet.”

  “Good eye,” he said. “The artist, a talented French witch, shared the same mentor as Monet. While he continued to paint, she began experimenting with textiles. This is one of my favorite pieces she did. It’s constructed from charmed wool that comes from a rare breed of sheep in Ireland.”

  “Charmed wool?” I’d never heard of it. I subconsciously rubbed my fingers together, wondering how yarn from such wool would knit up and what the finished product would look like.

  Something rubbed against my ankle. I looked down to see a small, gray cat. “You must be Claude,” I said, bending down to pet him. He had four white mittens and an off-center white nose. He purred loudly as I stroked him from his ears to the tip of his tail. “Such a sweet kitty.”

  “Don’t be betrayed by his cuteness,” Luka warned. “He’s a very affectionate cat, but only on his own terms.”

  “Well, that’s silly,” I said, addressing Claude in the higher-pitched voice I used when I talked to animals.

  “There’s nothing silly about it,” Luka said, defending his cat. “He’s in control of what he wants and knows how to assert himself. He’s the master of his own universe.”

  I could tell Claude was getting ready to bite me, so I pulled my hand away and straightened up, adjusting my knitting bag on my shoulder. “Such a naughty kitty. You’re missing out on some really pleasant experiences. Other people’s terms could be very enjoyable for you, but you’ll never know because it’s your way or the highway.”

  Luka chuckled. “You sound like that cat psychologist on TV.”

  Laughter burst from my throat. “Oh my God, I love his show! I can’t believe you watch it.”

  “I don’t,” Luka said quickly. “Not really. I…uh…record it and play it for Claude when I’m away.”

  We climbed the grand staircase to the second floor and headed down the upper hallway, stopping at the third door on the right.

  Luka swung it open then stepped aside to let me pass. “The en-suite is through that door and is well-stocked with whatever you may need.”

  “Thank you, Luka, for…for everything.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll be downstairs in my office, working, if you need anything during the night.”

  I paused on the threshold and gazed up into his devilishly handsome face. “There’s that stupid sleep schedule of yours again, throwing a monkey-wrench into everything.”

  The corners of his lips twitched. “I do own my own company, you know.”

  I raised a brow. “Are you saying you’re the master of your own universe?”

  “Something like that.”

  His lips came down over mine, stealing my breath away. Hot and demanding, the kiss had me wanting more from him. I pressed my body against his and felt how much he wanted me.

  Swinging me into his arms, he kicked the door closed with one foot and carried me to bed.

  11

  Penelope

  * * *

  The time before Yarnapalooza went by in the blink of an eye. During daylight hours, Walter accompanied me everywhere. Prior to becoming Luka’s rook, he’d been a highly skilled and capable soldier in World War I. In other words, he was a total badass.

  And Luka was with me at night, which turned out to be pretty fun.

  Through his friend Julian, Luka had been able to review the security tapes at the library in an attempt to identify the man who’d been asking about onyx scarabs. There had been no more sightings of him, and for that I was thankful. Maybe he had moved on. However, I still wasn’t willing to leave the protection of the city limits, so I had to trust that the other yarn stores were ready. I held out hope that the Others would show up to take the scarab off my hands before Yarnapalooza, but they didn’t.

  Over a hundred people had signed up online, while a hundred more signed up in person at one of the participating shops. Aunt Sylvia had designed a cute hat pattern to give out, and one of her suppliers, a local woman who raised her own sheep for wool, spun special skeins of yarn for us. The hand-lettered sign that Helen had made looked great, and there were fresh flowers in the pot at the door. We were all ready to go.

  The morning of the event, I couldn’t wait to get to the shop, but Luka insisted I eat breakfast first. “It’s the most important meal of the day. Unless, of course, you’re a vampire. Then in that case, it’s dinner.” He hugged me at the door, and I inhaled his fresh, manly scent. “Good luck and have fun. I'll be there as soon as night falls.”

  The event went better than I’d expected. Throughout the day, I checked in with the other shops, and none of them had ever had so much foot traffic. In fact, Charming Yarns was on track to tripling their best single-day sales record.

  The rows of cubbies were crammed with yarn enthusiasts. Groups of people took up every available space to knit and crochet and to talk about knitting and crocheting. I also heard that there were knitters over at the Hallowed Bean. And someone even reported that they’d seen a couple of guys crocheting over at Howler’s, the local dive bar. I didn’t know if that was true, but it’d certainly be cool if it was.

  The Knotty Knitters were in charge of the food table and had artfully arranged the cupcakes from Delaney’s Delectables on se
veral tiered cupcake trays. Not surprisingly, Delaney had outdone herself. The cupcakes were decorated in a basket weave pattern using Charming Yarns’ signature colors (blue and yellow), and each one was adorned with a pair of tiny knitting needles made out of fondant. They were a big hit.

  When it neared nightfall, I started to keep an eye out for Luka. He’d be here soon.

  A group of high schoolers from Harmswood were just leaving, including the girl who’d designed our website. She’d used her store credit to buy crochet hooks, circular knitting needles, and several balls of yarn for all of her friends. Her excitement to get started surprised me. I’d assumed that computer whiz-kids would only be into things like gaming, online geek forums, and social media, and have no interest in knitting. I loved that I was wrong.

  “Come back if you get stuck or need any help,” I said as I held the door open for them. “Or if you just want to hang out and knit.”

  “We will,” they said.

  I scanned the early evening crowd milling around outside and finally spotted Luka on the far side of the street. I couldn’t wait to tell him about the day. He’d told me he thought it was going to be wildly successful, and although I’d wanted to believe him, I just hadn’t been sure.

  I waved to him, but he didn’t see me. It looked like he was talking to someone. The crowd parted enough for me to see who it was. Jasmine’s red curls were arranged stylishly to show off her delicate, pointed ears. She wore a flirty green dress with a flared hemline and killer heels. She looked cute. Really cute.

  “Yes, now that makes a little more sense,” said a cool female voice to my right.

  I turned to see a very attractive older woman standing slightly behind me, just inside the door. Her wrap was mink, not knit, and she carried what looked to be a very expensive purse. I recognized the brand. I had a knockoff.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  The woman looked me up and down. I could tell she wasn’t impressed. “You must be Penelope,” she said, holding out a jewel-encrusted hand.