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“Mara.”
“What?”
“You go on ahead. I’ll take care of the bodies.”
Mara nodded. In her joy at seeing her son, she had forgotten about Ramsden and his wife. It would never do for their bodies to be found. It would lead to too many questions about why they had been killed, and who had killed them. “Bring Kyle home with you.”
Logan stared at her a moment, then nodded.
Mara hugged her son tighter. Tomorrow night, she would bury Kyle in the tiny graveyard up in the mountains. But for now, she needed to take her baby home, to wash him and feed him and hold him close, to breathe in his sweet baby scent, to kiss each tiny finger and toe, to assure herself that no permanent damage had been done to her child, the only child she would ever have.
Logan prowled the living room of the house Mara had shared with Kyle. He had expected her to go back to her house in the Hollywood Hills, but the baby’s things were here. Watching her with her son, seeing the love in her eyes, her tenderness as she gave the baby a bottle, her gentleness as she rocked the boy to sleep, stirred a never-before-felt emotion deep within him. He wasn’t sure what it was. Jealousy, perhaps, that he would never sire a child, never experience the unbreakable bond that existed between a parent and a child.
He and Mara had spoken little since leaving Ramsden’s lab. Seeing her with the baby, Logan wondered again if Mara was regretting her decision to accept the Dark Trick, and yet she had been convinced it was the only way to find her son. No doubt she had been right. After seeing what Ramsden had done to his wife, Logan had no doubt that the doctor had planned to dispose of the kid and Kyle, as well. And what of the other two vampires who had been there? Logan had detected their scents though he hadn’t recognized them. But Mara had.
“Edna and Pearl,” she’d said. “They were vampire hunters until Rafe turned them some years ago. Troublesome creatures.”
Bored and impatient, Logan went down the hall to the nursery and peered through the half-open door. Mara sat in a rocking chair near the window, the baby cradled in her arms.
Sensing his presence, she looked up. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I just wondered what was keeping you.”
“I can’t bear to put him down.”
Logan nodded. No doubt it would be weeks, maybe months, before she felt comfortable letting the baby out of her sight.
She glanced around the nursery. “We’ll have to leave here as soon as I get everything packed up.”
He nodded. Now that Edna and Pearl knew about the house in Porterville, moving was the smart thing to do. Not that Mara couldn’t handle the two old broads, but she had the baby to think about, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
Returning to the living room, Logan gazed at the painting of Mara and Derek hanging over the fireplace. Bowden’s signature was in the lower right-hand corner. Logan had no doubt that, in spite of everything, Kyle Bowden had loved Mara dearly. It was evident in every brush stroke.
Muttering an oath, Logan began to pace again. He didn’t belong here, in this house. Maybe he didn’t belong in Mara’s life, either. She had planned to give the baby to Kyle, but that was no longer an option. There was always the chance that she would let Savanah raise the boy; they had discussed it before, but now . . . He shook his head. After everything that had happened, he doubted that Mara would let anyone else raise her son.
Selfish creature that he was, he couldn’t help wondering where that left him. He didn’t like admitting, even to himself, that he was jealous of every minute Mara spent with the boy. But he was. And how sick was that, to be envious of an infant?
He was muttering to himself, calling himself a worthless, useless, fool, when he realized he was no longer alone. Feeling like an idiot, he turned to face her.
Looking amused, she met his gaze.
Had he been capable of it, he would have blushed.
“Why are you a worthless, useless fool?” she asked, closing the distance between them.
“You make me that way.”
“Do I?” She ran her fingertips down his cheek.
“I’m jealous of every minute you spent with Bowden, and every second you spend with your son. I love you, and I don’t want to share you with anyone. If that doesn’t make me a fool, I don’t know what else to call it.”
“I can’t help loving him. He’s mine.”
“Am I?”
With a sigh, Mara said, “I can’t talk about this right now. It’s too soon. Too much has happened.” She glanced at the picture over the fireplace, remembering the night Kyle had painted it. And now he was dead, and it was her fault. If she had never cared for him, never married him, he would still be alive. In all her years as a vampire, she had rarely experienced remorse or guilt, but now both emotions weighed heavily on her conscience.
Moving past Logan, she sat on the sofa. Tomorrow night, she would bury Kyle. And after that, what? She considered asking Rane and Savanah to take care of Derek. Not long ago, she had been convinced that she didn’t want her son to grow up the way Cara had, not knowing the truth about her parents until she was grown, but now . . . now she wasn’t sure she could let someone else raise her son. Did she really want her baby to call another woman Mama? Did she want to miss out on watching her son take his first step, miss hearing him speak his first word? Was she being selfish to want to keep Derek? Would it be better to let Savanah raise him, or should she perhaps give him to a mortal couple who could raise him in a normal home? But what if Derek wasn’t a normal child? What if, like Rafe and Rane, he carried vampire blood that manifested itself when he reached puberty? Human parents would be ill-equipped to handle such a thing.
Mara blew out a sigh. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know which decision would be best.
She glanced at Logan as he sat down beside her.
“It’s a hard decision, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes. I want to do what’s best for Derek, but I don’t know what that is. Would it be selfish of me to keep him?”
“He’s your son,” Logan said quietly. “He belongs with you.”
He belongs with you. Four words that sank deep into Mara’s heart, and in that instant, she knew she could never let her baby go.
The following night, Mara laid Kyle to rest in the small graveyard located in the woods behind her house in the mountains. It was an old cemetery, surrounded by a white wrought-iron fence with an arched gate. A wooden sign, carved with the words, REST YE IN PEACE, hung from the top of the gate. No one had been buried there in over fifty years.
