Page 49 of Bad Luck Vampire

“Oh, aye, first food poisoning, and then getting hit by a car, I’m feelin’ lucky all right,” Alasdair muttered, but despite his sarcasm he did feel lucky on the Sophie front. Between the food poisoning and before being taken out by four thousand pounds of scrap metal on wheels, it had been a glorious night. Sophie was a wonder. There wasn’t a shy or inhibited bone in her body.

Alasdair hadn’t been sure what to expect as he’d waited for her to open her apartment door. He’d worried that, if it hadn’t been the shrimp that had caused his stomach issues, she too might be suffering from their meal. If she hadn’t, though, he’d thought they might eat, talk some more, and then perhaps—if there was an opportunity—he might lure her into his arms again. What he hadn’t expected was for the woman to open her door, literally grab him by the shirt, and drag him into her entry, which had been redolent with the aroma of her body’s excitement and need.

He didn’t know who had moved first to kiss, perhaps they’d both done so at the same time, but they’d suddenly been kissing, and Alasdair had pretty much lost his head. That, added to the uninhibited way she’d responded to him, had made him lose his common sense and feast on her right there in the entry where she could have been severely injured when they found completion and lost consciousness.

But damn, it had been hot. Alasdair could still feel her quivering body in his hands, hear her moans and cries in his ears, and taste her passion on his tongue. He couldn’t wait to see her again. There were so many things he wanted to do to and with her.

“I’m thinkin’ yer gonna ha’e to wait until ye’ve healed a bit fer that, lad,” Connor said, obviously having intruded on his thoughts.

His uncle’s words brought Alasdair down to earth with a rather painful thump as he was forced out of his mind and back into his pain-racked body.

“But I’m glad we were able to help ye bed yer woman,” Connor added.

Alasdair stiffened at those words, but before he could respond, Inan put in, “Aye, and from those memories in yer noggin’, it’s lookin’ like ye did us proud with her, boyo. Good on ye, lad.”

Alasdair merely scowled over Ludan’s shoulder as he was carried into the house like a damned baby.

“We handled Eddie’s memory and Bricker and Decker are taking him home.”

Alasdair nodded at Colle’s announcement and grunted his version of a thanks around the bag of blood at his mouth. It was the first bag of a second round of four that he’d been offered since being carried up to his room and placed in bed. There hadn’t been many questions once they’d got him inside the house. Instead, they’d read his mind while he’d consumed those first four bags of blood.

Alasdair had barely finished the fourth bag when the healing had started in earnest. The pain, or perhaps the healing itself, had sent his body into convulsions that had left him writhing and shuddering helplessly on the bed until the agony he was suffering had finally driven him into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness.

Alasdair didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he’d woken up just moments ago to find Sam and his four uncles at his bedside waiting. When Sam had asked how he felt, all he’d been able to do was give a miserable grunt. He was still in terrible pain, but it seemed worse than before. Now he wasn’t just in pain damned near everywhere, but he also felt dried out, as if every last drop of liquid in his body had been sucked from him.

Nodding as if he’d spoken all of that aloud, Sam had stood to move to a cooler on his bedside table and had retrieved four bags of blood from it. She’d then slapped the first to his fangs and sat down with the other three bags to wait. That’s when Colle had entered.

His twin brother paused beside the bed, eyeing him with a combination of concern and discontent, and then shook his head. “It’s hard to tell from your memory whether your stomach issue was food poisoning or just poisoning, or if the car hitting you was a deliberate attack, or just a case of bad luck.”

Alasdair’s eyebrows rose at the comment. He was pretty sure his stomach issue had just been bad shrimp. Sophie had eaten everything else he had and not suffered for it. As for the car hitting him, he’d been thinking that was just a case of bad luck. He’d been having a run of that lately. Besides, neither poison nor running an immortal down were likely to kill them, so it had probably been bad shrimp and a drunk mortal or some such thing. Just bad luck.

“We’re not sure the stomach thing was bad shrimp,” Colle said as if he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “The amount of blood you vomited up suggests poison.” He frowned and then added, “Although, you’re right, poison wouldn’t have killed you either.”

“Maybe killing him wasn’t the intent behind the attacks,” Uncle Connor suggested.

Alasdair shook his head at once. A deliberate attack didn’t seem likely, even if it had only been meant to hurt him. He didn’t know anyone in Canada aside from his family and the few hunters he’d met since arriving. Why would anyone target him?

“Well, that’s something we’ll have to think about later,” Colle said abruptly, and then added, “But right now, I have to get to work. Tybo and I are going to take the shift alone tonight.”

When Alasdair grunted a protest around the bag at his mouth, Colle grinned at him. “You, brother, are in no shape to work. Besides, two of us will do, and you need to rest up and regain your strength for Sophie now that you’ve moved your wooing to the bedroom. We’ll see you Sunday night if you can drag yourself from her bed.”

Alasdair watched him go, troubled by something in Colle’s voice. His words had seemed light and teasing, but the tone itself had been more short and annoyed or something.

“He’s hurtin’ a bit is all,” Inan said quietly once the door had closed behind Colle. “Yer findin’ yer life mate changes things between the two o’ ye. He can read ye now which is new, and definitely alters the dynamics o’ yer relationship. He’s tryin’ to navigate that.”

Alasdair frowned at this surprising bit of wisdom from his uncle, and then stiffened in surprise when Sam suddenly ripped the now empty bag away from his fangs and slapped on another. He tried to relax then, but he was thinking about Colle and the change in their relationship. As twins, they hadn’t been able to read or control each other. They’d definitely enjoyed the benefits of not needing to shield their minds from each other. It had allowed them to be friends and companions and prevented the loneliness most immortals suffered until they found their life mate.

Now, if he was very lucky, Alasdair would be sharing that companionship and much more with Sophie, but Colle would lose that same companionship they’d enjoyed all these centuries. At least until Alasdair got past this first stage of finding a life mate where he was easily read by everyone. Hopefully, once that passed and he was no longer an open book, he and Colle could return to the companionable friendship they’d always had.

“While we ha’e ye here,” Connor said suddenly. “We’re thinkin’ we need to come up with a plan fer ye to win yer lass’s heart.”

Alasdair’s alarmed gaze flickered to his uncles. Seeing them all nodding solemnly, he immediately shook his own head. He did not want their interference. He was wooing Sophie and doing just fine, thank you very much.

“Ye’ve got under her skirts, lad. But ye’ll no’ find her heart there,” Connor said dryly. “And her heart’s what yer needin’ to win if ye’re ha’e any hope o’ convincin’ her to be yer life mate.”

Alasdair grimaced around the bag of blood at his mouth and slumped back against the headboard of his bed, resigned to listening to their advice. It wasn’t like he could avoid it at the moment. So he waited for them to start telling him how he should lay siege to Sophie’s apartment, or club her over the head, drag her somewhere remote and unescapable, and keep her there until she agreed to be his life mate.

“Damn me! We’re no’ cavemen, boyo!” Ludan snapped, obviously offended by his thoughts.

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