Love Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

that. She was staring at him. “You must have a throat made of asbestos.”

      “Hot drinks don’t bother me.” Any more than heat or cold or bullets. Fire could be fatal but… “It’s good coffee.”

      “Thanks.”

      He remembered to drink the rest of it at a more mortal pace. “There’s also a pair of trousers in the box,” he went on when she’d relaxed a little. “Dixie thought they might do.” Stella was giving him her don’t-patronize-me look again.

      “They’re an odd size she wasn’t able to sell. They’re bound to be too big, but Dixie can take them in if you like.”

      “I’ll fix them,” Stella replied. “Or I’ll end up owing for alterations as well as the costume.”

      That was her acceptance as well as her bid for independence, and Justin acknowledged it with a smile. “Think they’ll fit him?” Dixie had assured him they were far too big, but wearable under the cape, and the mismatched sizes would reinforce their fable of stray garments just hanging around the place.

      Stella fetched the box. Putting the cape over the back of a spare chair, she pulled out the trousers. “Yes, they are a bit big,” she said holding them up, “but that’s soon taken care of. The waist’s elastic and I can turn them up.” She folded them away and then picked up the cape, her hands stroking the velvet as she folded it carefully. “They really are beautiful,” she said. “Sam will be thrilled. Thanks.” She smiled.

      It was the sort of smile to shatter a man’s mind or exalt his soul—or send a vampire’s thoughts down forbidden avenues. She was prospective sustenance not solace. “You’ll come by the shop on Beggars’ Night?”

      “You bet!” She glanced at his now-empty mug. “Want another coffee?”

      “No, thank you. I…” A great crash from outside stopped him.

      “What’s that?” It sounded like a small explosion but surely not…

      Stella had jumped up and now frowned out of the window. “It’s those no-good Day boys!”

      Children were doing this? “What did they do?”

      “They’re throwing bottles and trash at my garage.” She shook her head. “Do it all the time. They…” She was interrupted by a great shout from behind her house and another smash.

      “Not anymore, they won’t!” Justin said, racing out the back door and down the garden. Without pausing to think, he vaulted the sagging chain fence.

      He landed just feet from one youth and inches from another.

      The shorter one scowled at Justin, the taller, presumably older one drew his arm back, a glass jar clutched in his fist. A mass of broken glass and stones decorated the ground.

      “Stop that!” Justin said.

      The younger one laughed and bent to pick up a bottle from the bag at his feet. “You gonna stop me, white man?”

      “Yes.” It was ludicrously easy. Their minds had the substance of sawdust. The older one lowered his arm to let the bottle dangle. The younger stood up and blinked.

      They were children. Wreaking havoc. He relaxed his hold on their minds, just a little. “Why aren’t you at school?”

      The older one shrugged. “Sid got suspended. I ain’t gonna go if he ain’t there to look out for me.”

      Familial solidarity was admirable enough but vandalism didn’t seem quite the way to nurture it. “I see.” It was a lie, he didn’t. Any more than he’d ever understood the innumerable acts of vandalism he’d witnessed over the centuries. He’d never had an answer before and didn’t expect one now. He held both boys in his thrall. “You’ve a free day. Good. You’ll spend it picking up every shard of glass here, and when you’re finished, clear the rest of the rubbish from the alley.”

      The both nodded mutely and at his signal, repeated his directions. “When you pick up,” Justin went on, “put everything in that bin over there.” He directed their attention to a wheelie bin leaning crookedly against the fence. “And you will never bother this house again. Is that understood?”

      They nodded. “Yes.” The younger one surprised Justin by adding, “sir.”

      “Good.” He left them bending and retrieving what looked like several months’ worth of smashed bottles and rusted tin cans and turned back towards the house. Stella was standing halfway down the patch of yellowed grass, staring openmouthed. He was struck simultaneously by her beauty and his own stupidity. What was wrong with his reasoning? He’d raced out of her house and leapt the fence without thinking. He never flaunted his strength before mortals. Well, he had now! “Ms. Schwartz,” he called, “don’t worry! They won’t annoy you anymore.”

      She looked as if she wanted to believe, but hesitated. “Those boys are nothing but trouble!”

      “Not anymore. Do you have any bin liners? They’ve a lot to pick up.”

      That distracted her…a little. “Bin liners?” Her brows creased. “You mean trash bags?” She went back to the house and returned with a couple of heavy, green plastic bags. “Think this will do?”

      They did beautifully, and with Justin giving their sullen brains a nudge, the two miscreants accepted them with thanks and offered abject apologies and assurances they’d never offend again. The youngest even added a hesitant “Ma’am.” Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

      It was back in the house that Stella turned to Justin. “Who are you? Superman or an Olympic athlete, the way you jumped over that fence.”

      Better make her forget. “Stella,” he whispered and pulled her will to his. This was one strong-minded woman! It took power to enter her thoughts. He glimpsed more anxieties and worries than a woman should bear. He needed to do something about them. Later. He skimmed off the memory of his race down the garden and leap over the gate. “Not to worry,” he said as he released her mind and she blinked up at him.

      The unexpected vulnerability in her eyes undid him. That and the heady scent of her lifeblood racing thorough her veins. Lust rose like a wild force, and without thinking he threw a full power glamour over her.

      She was soft, warm and alive and he pulled her compliant body into his arms. He resisted the urge to caress her breasts and the lush warmth of her woman’s curves. Not now! Not ever! He’d taste her blood and thus slake his need and the raging desire he barely kept in rein. Taste her—no more! He brushed her honey-colored hair off her face and lifted her shoulders so her head hung back, offering her soft white throat. He pulled down the neck of her sweatshirt and gently lapped her skin, savoring her living taste. When she was utterly relaxed and let out a little whimper of pleasure, he nipped.

      Never in all his born—or dead—days had he tasted such richness. Her sweet thick blood flowed through his lips, warming his mouth and a heart long hurt. He sucked, knowing he should stop soon, but needing the solace and comfort of her warmth and life. It was her nipples hardening under the loose sweatshirt that brought him back to reason. That, and the scent of her arousal.

      He forced his lips off her and slowly licked the wound to seal it. The mark was hidden by her sweatshirt and in a few hours would fade completely. He smoothed her hair forward and sat her in a chair. Only then did he remove the glamour.

      “Whee!” Stella shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. She looked around, frowning as it registered she was sitting down. “What…?” she began.

      “You got a bit woozy,” Justin lied, despising himself but knowing the truth was impossible. And she probably was woozy after all he’d taken. “The last few minutes were a bit stressful.”

      “I’ve never gone giddy over the Day boys before,” she said and looked at Justin as if remembering. “I owe you for that.”

      “You