Thorne shook his head. “You won’t like it if you do.”
“What’s not to like?” Sam asked, frowning. “She’s young, single, beautiful, and she smells good.”
“There’s just one other little thing you might want to remember,” Thorne remarked.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“She’s a werewolf.”
Chapter 39
Shortly after sundown the next night, Thorne drove Sam and Skylynn out to the cemetery. He waited in the car for several minutes, giving the brother and sister time to be alone with their grief.
In spite of being Undead, graveyards weren’t one of Thorne’s favorite places. They were grim reminders of how brief mortal life was, how short his time with Skylynn would be. In a few years, she would begin to age. Her youth would fade, her energy and exuberance would diminish, weakened by the passage of years. Not that he would love her less. He would deem it a privilege to care for her for as long as she lived. His only concern—selfish though it might be—was how, having known her, having loved her, he could go on without her. In four centuries, he had never found another woman he needed so badly, or loved so desperately. With each passing day, the thought of facing a future without her grew more and more intolerable.
His only hope was that, as time passed and mortality stared her in the face, she would agree to accept the Dark Gift. He was hoping that the fact that her brother was now a vampire would tip the scales in his favor.
From time to time, when he thought of existing without her, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered that, as a last resort, he could turn her against her will and hope that, in a century or two, she would find it in her heart to forgive him.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he would never force his way of life on Skylynn. If she became a vampire, it would be of her own choosing.
With a shake of his head, he got out of the car and joined Sky and her brother at the grave site. Skylynn’s cheeks were damp with tears. Sam stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders, doing his best not to cry.
“He was a good man,” Thorne said quietly. “A good friend to me. One of the few mortals who knew what I was and didn’t try to drive a stake in my heart.”
“I still miss him,” Sky said, sniffling. “He was always there when I needed him, always there to comfort me when I woke up crying in the middle of the night, or when I had a fight with one of my friends.”
Sam nodded his agreement.
The boy was afraid to speak, Thorne thought, afraid that putting his feelings into words would unleash the pain within him and leave him crying like a baby.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Thorne stared at the headstones. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shed a tear.
Skylynn dropped to her knees. Leaning forward, she stroked her hand over the grass that covered her grandfather’s grave. “I hope you’re with the rest of the family now.” She glanced to the left, where her grandmother was buried. “You can take care of each other again.”
After clearing his throat, Sam said, “I need to go, Sky.”
She glanced up at him. “So soon?”
Sam shifted from one foot to the other. “You can stay if you want. I need to go.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Thorne said. “You be careful. Desmarais is still out there somewhere.”
“Yeah, like I’d forget that.”
“You and Sky will be staying at my place during the day until he’s no longer a threat.”
Sam looked belligerent for a moment, and then, with a nod, he disappeared from the cemetery.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Sky said, rising. “The way you can come and go so quickly.”
“It’s been my experience that you can get used to almost anything,” Thorne remarked as they picked their way between the headstones on their way back to the car.
“I suppose,” she replied dubiously. “He seems so different. He seems ... happy to be what he is.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Thorne asked, opening the passenger door.
“No, it’s just hard for me to understand. I mean, I was afraid he’d hate me for it. Now, it’s almost like he wishes he’d done it sooner.”
Thorne closed her door and went around to the driver’s side. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned to face her, his arm draped over the back of her seat. “Being a vampire is what you make of it. You can brood over what you’ve lost, or you can appreciate what you’ve gained. It’s all a matter of attitude. Sam decided to look on the bright side.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Eventually. I guess you could say Sam’s become a well-adjusted vampire in a remarkably short time.”
“Well-adjusted,” Sky muttered. “Right.”
“Is it Sam’s easy acceptance of what he is that’s bothering you?” Thorne asked quietly. “Or are you having second thoughts about you and me?”
“Could you blame me if I was?”
“Not at all. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”
“Were you kidding when you told Sam that that girl, Lisa, is a werewolf?”
“No. She turns fanged and furry when the moon is full.”
Feeling chilled, Sky wrapped her arms around her middle. “Can we go home now?” She was in love with a vampire. Sam was enamored of a werewolf. Absorbing that knowledge while parked in a cemetery was suddenly more than she could handle.
With a nod, Thorne started the car and drove toward the exit. He couldn’t blame Sky for being spooked. It was never easy for mortals to find out that the monsters were real.
“So, werewolves exist,” Sky mused. “Should I be on the lookout for flying monkeys, and giant ants and aliens from outer space?”
Thorne laughed, recalling that she had asked about the possibility of other paranormal creatures when he had told her about saving Desmarais from the succubus.
“I’m pretty sure you’re safe from flying monkeys and giant ants,” he drawled. “The jury’s still out on little green men from outer space.”
“What did you mean when you told Sam he wouldn’t like the taste of her blood?”
“Werewolf blood burns like acid when we swallow it.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know, but it does.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
He braked at a stoplight. “Yeah. It’s a mistake I never made again.” He stepped on the gas when the light turned green.