She waves me off.
“I had myself a few husbands.” She winks at me. “Did you two enjoy the lasagna casserole?” She’s holding another dish in her hand.
“Vincent wouldn’t share one bite of it with me. I think he’s stingy with your food.” It’s not really a lie. He didn’t let me have even one little taste before he tossed it away. He was hellbent on me eating what he prepared for me.
“Don’t you worry. I brought more. Picked some apples right before the sun came up. Keeps them nice and crisp. I made a little breakfast tart.” She holds out another dish as she tries to peek past me over my shoulder. It’s not hard with how short I am. I glance down when Buffy rubs against my legs.
“Look at you, sweet girl.” Mrs. Brewster focuses her attention on Buffy. I swear I hear a faint hiss. I guess Buffy’s in a mood this morning. She can be a bit protective of me. The only person she hasn’t been rude to is Vincent, actually.
“Thanks so much for this.” I take the plate out of her hand.
The sweet smell drifts up from the dish. “Just pop it in the oven until you’re ready to enjoy it.” She gives me another wink.
“It smells wonderful. That Chef Ramsey is always making it on his show. I’d die to try it one day.”
“You’re in luck. Same recipe. I love him. He’s a spitfire. You know that’s his mama’s recipe.”
“Mrs. Brewster.” Vincent’s tone is light, but I sense his anger. I turn my head, wondering what’s wrong.
He’s standing a few yards back from me. The sun is now flooding in through the open door. I’m out of his reach, and he doesn’t like it.
“When did you get a cat?” Mrs. Brewster asks, giving Buffy the side eye. I bet she’s a dog person. I’ll try not to hold that against her.
“Buffy is mine. I actually need to feed her. Thank you again.”
“Anytime, dear.” I step back and use my foot to close the door. Both of my hands are now full. The second it’s closed, Vincent is in front of me taking the dish from me. He drops it on the table by the door, then grabs me.
“You are not to go into the sun.”
“Let’s go to bed.” I change the subject. It’s not only anger but fear coming off Vincent too. I get it. I would hate if there was somewhere he could go that I could never reach him.
“I’ll see myself out. I’ll be back tonight. I need to look into some other avenues on these killings. If it’s not you, there must be another vampire in the area,” Ian says.
“I haven’t sensed one.”
“You can feel others?” I ask a little sassily.
“I have heightened senses, and I can spot one of my own kind with relative ease, but no, I can’t feel them. Not like I feel you.”
“Enough feeling.” Ian groans. “I just need to get in touch with some of my sources and find out. It’s the only answer that makes sense, what with them being drained and all.”
I nod. “It fits. We need to keep hunting and find the killer before they drain anyone else.”
Ian gives a little salute to me, then says to Vincent, “Try to keep your fangs out of her.”
Vincent starts to growl, clearly not liking someone telling him what he can and can’t do with me.
“Can you sense my emotions too?” I ask.
“Yeah. It’s the only reason I stop myself from killing Ian. You care for him.”
“Love you too,” Ian says dryly as he heads out the door.
“Go to my bedroom. I’m going to lock up.”
Okay,” I agree.
“I’ll meet you upstairs.” He releases his hold on me. I do as he tells me but stop when I reach the bedroom. I flip on the lights. His bedroom is as beautiful as the rest of the home. Not too ornate, but with nice touches of molding and elegant swirls along the ceiling. I strip off my clothes when I enter his closet and grab one of his shirts to pull on.
I pause when I get to the end of the bed, about to crawl in. A sense of unease fills me. I turn and run back down the stairs. I come to a sliding stop in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
Vincent turns around to face me with a bag of blood in his hand. “This isn't what it looks like.”
“Is that really what you’re going with?”
He tosses the bag into the sink. Irritation and anger go to war in my heart, and I want to run, to get away from him and hide my hurt.
“Poppet.”
I creep around the side of the island, my eyes flicking toward the back door. “You’d never make it.” His eyes turn black, his fangs peeking out.