TheBrokenOrnament Page 5

  That figures. The man was obviously a womanizer. Wasn’t it just her luck?

  So much for her being his mate. Cherie barely stopped herself from scowling at the creep. She wouldn’t have a relationship with the man now if her life depended on it, and if what he said about her arrival here was true, it just might be. She sat back in her seat with a sigh.

  “Are you tired?” All of a sudden, his attention was back on her and it made her uncomfortable.

  “Yes.” She was exhausted. Her stomach picked that precise moment to growl angrily and he grinned.

  “Apparently, the breakfast we had on the way here has worn off as well.”

  “Worn off?” she asked with a laugh. “What was there to wear off, really?” I had an English muffin with an egg and a half of a slice of cheese.”

  “You could have had more.”

  Of course she could have, but she didn’t want to look like a glutton in front of the man. Besides, it had already been four hours since she ate.

  “It has been several hours.” She checked her watch with a smile. “How long do you think breakfast should last?”

  He laughed and she was mesmerized by the little crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “I keep forgetting that—“

  “We humans need to eat more often than vampires?”

  One of the women at the next table gasped. Cherie looked, but she wasn’t sure which one it was.

  “Yes.” The word came out clipped and short as though he was angry.

  Was he angry? Didn’t he want people to know? He didn’t seem to mind the soothsayer woman knowing. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t I have said that out loud?” Were vampires a part of some secret society? She’d assumed that since the psychic knew about them that everyone did. Did they exist on her world as part of some secret occult group? She sighed. Why was she even buying into all of this? “Doesn’t everyone know about your kind?”

  “Yes and no.” He said as he watched one of the women from the other table scurry away, presumably out of fear. She was an older woman. Maybe she had a difficult time dealing with change.

  “What in the heck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that my people have went public, but even though there are now laws to protect us, we are still hunted by slayers who now hunt us illegally.” He shook his head. “They consider it no worse than poaching animals.”

  “Oh.” Cherie wrung her hands in her lap. “And you hadn’t…gone public, I take it?”

  Hunter pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, I had not.”

  “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to out you.”

  “I know that.” He turned toward the restaurants in the court. “Would you like something to eat? We have a few minutes before Joseph arrives.”

  Cherie bit her lip as she looked up at him. He certainly was an even tempered man. His earlier angst at her goof-up appeared already forgotten. Had that happened to her, she would probably have been screaming mad. She could only be glad that he was so tolerant. As a vampire, he could literally be deadly without that level of control.

  “Just get me a chili dog and an order of fries.”

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “A glass of water will do.” She didn’t need a soft drink. As it was, the chili dog and fries would go straight to her hips. Besides, she’d spent enough of this poor man’s money today—and she hadn’t even wanted to!

  She watched as he made his way to the counter of the hotdog stand. He certainly was put together well. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and hips. She could do worse, even if the man did have a strange diet.

  “We’re going to go now, miss.”

  Cherie turned and looked at the woman who tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up at the woman. She and her companion stood next to the table where they had set the eight or so bags they’d carried.

  “Uh, okay.” Cherie smiled, wondering what that had to do with her.

  “We’re leaving your packages here. Please tell your friend that it was good to serve you both.” The woman rolled her eyes before looking over her shoulder. “We have to get back to the store. Margo left in a huff and she’s likely to tell management we’re goofing off because we didn’t go back with her.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t put it past the old witch,” the other woman said as she picked at her lovely French manicure.

  “You’re leaving the packages?”

  “Why yes, miss.” The taller of the two said. “Mr. Vasco told us to pick out some things we thought you would need and bring them along.” She brought her hands to her chest, a dreamy look on her face. “If only a nice handsome man like him would take an interest in me.”

  “Come on, now. Margo is likely telling Mr. Garvin that we’re out here shopping for ourselves. You know how mad she was when we wouldn’t leave with her.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. Sheesh!” The woman rolled her eyes again. “Have a wonderful trip.” With a smile and a wave, the two women turned and hurried back to the store.

  Cherie couldn’t do anything but stare at the pile of bags and boxes stacked on the two tables. Where in the world was she going to put all of that crap? She didn’t have an apartment to store it in let alone a suitcase—and, by the looks of it, there was enough there to fill a closet the size of Rhode Island.

  It went without saying that she felt guilty that Hunter had spent so much money on her. Even if she was his mate, he shouldn’t have had to spend thousands of dollars to clothe her the day they met.

  She was so lost in thought, she barely noticed when he slid the tray in front of her. “There you go, one foot-long chili dog. I hope you like it with mustard and onions because that’s the way it comes.”

  “I love it like that.” She smiled up at him, but wasn’t feeling particularly happy. How would she ever repay him for all of this? Heck, some of the stuff she’d seen one of the girls pack in a bag was something she didn’t think she would ever use. Who needed a pair of blood red, six-hundred dollar four-inch spike heels? Cherie Gardner certainly didn’t.

  Yes you do, little one. You just don’t know it yet. Hunter whispered the words into her mind. Don’t be upset about the cost. I had a wonderful time. It was the most fun I’ve had in years. I wanted to do this for you. “Now eat.” He smiled before he took a bite of his own hotdog.

  “I thought vampires drank blood.” She said after taking a bite. She closed her eyes. She had always loved a good chili dog and this place had the best she’d ever had.

  “We do, but I have found that if I eat, my body helps produce more of what I need and I have the urge to feed less than others of my kind.”

  “That makes sense.” She watched him eat for the second time that day and though what he said did make sense, it made her wonder if he told the truth about what he was, or if he was pulling her leg. Whatever it was he was doing, it included spending a fortune on her and Cherie wasn’t sure she liked it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hunter sat across from Cherie and imagined they had already done this a thousand times. Sharing a meal was one of the most intimate things he had ever done in his lifetime. Sex wasn’t intimate. Not like this. Sex was physical intimacy. This…this was more.

  He watched the way her lips wrapped around the hotdog every time she took a bite. He loved the way her jaw moved as she chewed. Hell, he even liked the way she swallowed. What had come over him that he could find watching her eat so arousing?

  Perhaps he’d just been alone too long. Only the fates knew what Cherie was doing here, how long she would stay and whether or not she would agree to be his mate.

  He could force her compliance, could even make her stay by his side, but he didn’t want that. More than anything, Hunter wanted to be able to go to bed with this woman, sleep by her side and wake in the morning with his body wrapped around hers, protecting her—even in sleep.

  What was it about this woman that drew him to her so irrevocably? What did he see in her that he had not see
n in others these past centuries? When she looked up and met his gaze, Hunter realized what it was.

  It was the pain. Her eyes, the windows to her soul, held such pain. No one should suffer such obvious grief. Was it merely her sister’s death, or was there something else that bothered her? Another death, perhaps?

  “Is your sister younger than you?” He knew better than to ask her age. A gentleman never asked a lady’s age. That was another thing his mother had taught him. He’d never known his father. The man who sired him had passed before his birth.

  Hunter was a duke the day he was born. Though his uncle coveted the title, it hadn’t reverted to him until circumstances forced Hunter to falsify his own death. He’d looked the same too long. No one should appear in their mid thirties for longer than thirty years. He left when the townsfolk began to talk. Afterward, dying was easy. He merely sent word that he had been on the manifest of a ship that had reportedly went down with no survivors.

  “No. She was the oldest.” She smiled softly in remembrance. “She got married fresh out of high school and soon had Nikki.” Her expression turned melancholy.

  Good Lord! The woman had a niece to raise. No wonder she had been so upset. “How old is she.”

  “Seven.” She pushed the rest of her lunch away, picked up her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “She was seven and I—I loved her like my own.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hunter watched helplessly as the woman he had grown to love in such a short time, covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  “She was seven?” Hunter asked. He had a sick feeling in his gut that he knew what her answer would be.

  “Yes.” She nodded, her hands still covering her face. “She was only seven when a drunk driver hit my sister in a head on crash two days before Christmas.”

  Holy hell. What could he say to that? Nothing he could say could ever bring her sister and niece back. Anything he tried to tell her would only come out sounding weak and lame.

  Pushing his chair back, he went to her, knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, baby.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t cry. Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

  Hunter couldn’t believe he was in this situation. He never would have believed that he would find himself in a mall, on his knees, holding a woman while she cried her heart out onto his shoulder.

  Hell, he had shoulders as wide as any man, but he never would have wanted to do this for another woman. Usually crying women irritated him. This woman, on the other hand, made him want to make everything alright.

  “Shh…baby. Don’t cry.”

  “Why?” She sobbed onto his shoulder as though her world had ended. Perhaps it had. What did he know of family? He’d lost his so long ago, he had barely remembered what it felt like to love another human being—until he’d met Cherie. He had loved his mother. He knew this, but he couldn’t remember what it felt like.

  Had it felt like this when he lost her? Had he been so heartbroken he would do anything, believe anything to have one chance to see his mother again?

  “Is there something amiss, sir?” Joseph said from behind him.

  “No. Cherie was just recounting a painful time. Can you please take the bags to the car? We shall remain here until you have them loaded.

  “Yes, sir.” Joseph looked around them then lifted a brow. “Should I have rented a trailer, sir?”

  “Now is not the time for jesting, Joseph.”

  “Of course not, Your Grace.”

  Hunter sighed. Joseph had been with him a long time and in that time, he had recounted his lamentable story. The other man made it a habit to tell him when he acted above himself as an American citizen by calling him such things. It never ceased to pull Hunter from his ancient way of thinking and drag him kicking and screaming into the modern world.

  “Just put the bags in the car. The limo has a huge trunk. I daresay that every one of the packages will fit.”

  It took Joseph four trips to carry everything to the car. When he returned after the third trip, Hunter stood, lifted Cherie in his arms and followed Joseph out to the car.

  Carefully, he placed her in the back seat, before climbing in to sit on the seat facing her. After Joseph closed the door, Hunter leaned forward and took Cherie’s hands in his. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

  Cherie slowly tugged her hands away from his. “I’m—I’m okay now.” She pulled a napkin from her pocket and wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. It’s still so new. I’m having a hard time dealing with it.”

  “Of course you are, baby.” He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Anyone would have a difficult time losing the people they love most.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from touching her. It most likely made her feel uncomfortable, but he needed the contact. After so many centuries alone, he needed to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips.

  She was the reason he had survived all these centuries alone. His soul had waited for this woman to join him. He looked down at his empty hands, needing to reach out to her, but knowing the contact made her uncomfortable.

  Looking up, he met her wary gaze and smiled softly. “Perhaps we should be on our way. The faster we get to Washington, the sooner you will have an answer to your question.”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod, “I’d like that.” she smiled at him through her tears and sat back. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I must look a sight.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said—and meant it.

  A blush crept up her neck to her face and she turned to look out of the window. “Thank you.” She smiled a sad smile and turned to look him deep in the eyes. “For lying, that is.”

  “Who’s lying?” he asked and sat back with a smile. “I happen to like women who resemble Rudolph.”

  “That wasn’t nice.” She shook her head with a chuckle. “That wasn’t nice at all.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cherie hadn’t thought it possible to go from such utter dejection as she’d felt just a few minutes ago, to laughing, but he managed it somehow.

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, but wasn’t sure how to make the connection. She also wished that he would move next to her, take her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright again. She’d needed that before. How many times had she wished for just that over the last few lonely weeks? Every night, she’d prayed for a way to move on, a way to go on with her life.

  After one night, one temper tantrum, and one broken ornament her niece had sworn was magical, she had the answer to her prayers sitting across from her. He looked at her as though she was also the answer to his prayers. Who knew? Perhaps they could be the answer to each other’s whispered pleas to a god long forgotten, but never gone from this world—or the next.

  She stared at Hunter for a minute, realizing that for the first time in the last two weeks, she had forgotten her pain. When he kissed her, everything seemed to melt away and there was only him.

  She bit her lip and stared at him for a minute before clearing her throat. “Kiss me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Cherie almost smiled at the expression on his face. “Kiss me.” She cleared her throat. “You said you wouldn’t kiss me again unless I allowed it.” She twisted her fingers in her lap and tilted her head. “This is me allowing it.”

  Immediately, he reached over and pressed a switch on the door panel. A black sheet slid up out of nowhere to block the driver’s view. He pressed another button and said, “You know where to take us, Joseph. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the driver’s only reply.

  Before she could even think to change her mind, he slid across the seat and pulled her into his arms. The heat of his body seeped into hers and she smiled against his chest.

  “I thought vampires were cold, unfeeling people.”

  “That just goes to show what you know.” His voice rumb
led against her ear. “Or what you don’t know, as the case may be.”

  Pulling back, he cupped her chin and tilted her head back. “It’s impossible.” He shook his head. “I know it’s impossible. Yet, here I sit, looking down into your beautiful violet eyes, thinking how much I love you.”

  Gently, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Cherie closed her eyes as he pressed little kisses over her face and jaw. Was this what it was like to give herself to another with a love that’s real?

  The strange feeling in her stomach was nothing like what she’d felt before. With a frown, she pushed the memories back. She needed this, she needed him—even if this was like it was before.

  Taking a deep shuddering breath, she grasped the hem of her blouse. She needed the contact, the warmth of another human being and, damn it, she needed to feel alive.

  Hunter pressed on last kiss to the tip of her nose and tucked her head beneath his chin. “That’s not what you need, love.” He rocked her against him. “You need comfort. You definitely don’t need me to make love to you right now. What you need is for me to hold you, to tell you that you matter to me. That, as unbelievable as it seems, I love you.” he gave her a gentle squeeze. “I have waited centuries to say that to a woman and I do not say it lightly.”

  For the first time in a long, long time, Cherie fell asleep in a man’s arms.

  “Wake up, baby,” Hunter said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’re here and Gregori just went to get Kaylee.”

  He chuckled when she bolted upright. “Where is she?”

  “Inside somewhere.” He looked out through the open door. “Gregori said that she seemed as excited as you.” He turned to look at her. “It seems that her sister, Cherie Belle died as a teenager.” He sat back and looked rather confused. “Apparently her Cherie had been run downat the age of seventeen by a drunk driver who thought she and two of her friends were trash cans on the side of the road. And,” he paused for a moment, “in this reality, you have both expired.”

  Cherie looked toward the open door and gasped when she saw her sister exit a building and skip down the stairs. Tears filled her eyes as she cried, “Kaylee!” It was her sister. Cherie clamored from the limo and ran to her sister. They hugged each other, each of them sobbing.