Page 15

If he thought I was drinking that, he was two pints short of a cauldron.

Greta nodded and zoomed away. Julian sipped at the wine as I turned on the couch to get a better view of our company. It was times like these I wished the dead had auras. I thought I recognized one of the other young male vamps as someone from the night of the drugging as well, but I couldn’t even get his attention.

The stairs creaked and I turned back toward the entryway, heart leaping into my throat. My stomach twisted and my head grew light. I was about to see him. What other vampire would warn of his approach like that? Was he letting me know to prepare? There was nothing that could possibly make this easier, so I wished he'd just hurry up.

Julian handed me a goblet and, despite my earlier attitude, I downed it quickly, handing it back just as he came around the corner.

The little girl in me wanted to jump up and throw my arms around him. But the woman I’d become after he’d left stayed still as I took him in, fighting the torrid of emotions that grappled inside—everything from rage to relief.

He looked exactly as I remembered him. Unruly blonde hair, glasses that he no longer needed and possibly wore just for this occasion, and the same uniform consisting of an oxford shirt, collar unbuttoned, and khaki pants. If there was such a thing as a nerdy vampire, my father embodied it. Only his skin had the pale, deathly hue of a vampire, and his eyes shone too bright to be natural. He also hadn’t aged a day, which made him look as though he was in his thirties.

I swallowed, not having tasted the wine. What did one say in this situation? I bit my cheek and squeezed my fists, letting the nails dig into the flesh without breaking it. Though I wasn’t sure I could hold back the tears threatening or the personal earthquake building inside of me.

“Charlie,” he breathed the name only he’d called me, and I blinked hard, trying to keep the dam in place. “My gods, look at the woman you’ve become.”

This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. It wasn’t like I could just forgive him. But I wasn’t sure he deserved all my ire, either. I needed to gather my thoughts. To leave.

Julian put a cool hand on mine, grounding me, as my father took a few steps forward into the room.

“I had no intention of dragging you into this, Charlie. Please believe that.”

The dam broke.

“Oh, I believe it, Dad. You had every intention of never setting eyes on me—on any of us—again. But I guess your luck ran out, didn’t it?”

He took a step back and slid his hands in his pockets, but I saw the scarlet ring flash around his irises. I’d struck some kind of chord.

“I deserved that,” he said, looking away.

“Damn straight you deserved that and a lot more. But I’ll tell you who really deserves your groveling—Mama. You left her. Left us!” I trembled as I stood, hot tears running down my face. But I didn’t care. If I had to do this in front of an audience, so be it.

“I’d been killed and resurrected,” he said, his voice gaining a sharp edge as his fangs poked through. “In the blink of an eye, I’d become the beast I’d tried so hard to protect you and your mother and sister from.”

“And I saw it all. I was a child.” The tears stopped as though someone had flipped a switch, and a cold calm fell over me. “Yes, you went through a trauma, but so did I, Dad. And you could have come back at any time. You could have contacted us.” I strode toward him, stopping feet away.

“You’re right.” His shoulders fell and his eyes pinched as though crying invisible tears. When was the last time he fed? He looked so sallow and drawn. “I was afraid. I was afraid you’d think I was a monster. You would have been right.”

My head shook of its own accord. Pity replaced the rage, and I inhaled sharply.

“It’s your choices that make you a monster, Dad. Not your species.”

He met my eyes then, something like hope flickering in his. “I’ve also been on the run for many years, Charlie. I didn’t want the people who did this to me to be able to use you or your sister or mother to get to me. I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

I swallowed hard. That was a thought I’d ignored, which seemed to be a thing I was good at. Selective thinking. His research. He wanted to continue it with my lab assistant, which meant it was related to what I was doing. What he’d been originally doing.

Genetics.

“Dad,” I stepped closer. “Who were the men who came for you? What were you involved in?”

Julian’s hand found my back again, only for a moment.

Not now. Remember where we are.

“I—” Dad’s mouth worked, but he seemed unable to find words.

The pain in his eyes broke something inside of me. He’d been my hero, my mentor. He’d given me the confidence to accomplish what I had as a scientist and a person. And more than my anger, more than the heartache, I wanted his love.

“Dad.” I threw myself the remaining distance into his arms and squeezed. He still smelled of antiseptic and paper, the scent of his lab, and it brought fresh tears to the surface.