Waterlocked
Page 10
He finally saw her start to relax. She trusted her family more than she did him. It irked him, even though he knew it shouldn’t.
After all, one of the reasons Terry had pursued Gemma was because of her family, and not for the reasons she suspected. Yes, Carwyn’s clan was hugely influential and powerful, but they also reminded Terry of his own human family. It was that dependability and trust he’d hungered for in their connection at first. Now, of course, it was much more.
But he wished she trusted him more. In hindsight, that might be one drawback to the whole kidnapping scheme. Still, one did what was necessary to achieve the desired results. Gemma was here, on his favorite boat, and he was going to spend the next week seducing her into falling in love with him.
Not a bad plan, really. He just hoped it worked.
Gemma was staring over the water. “Who had access to me while I was in day rest, Terry?”
His head fell back in frustration. “No one I don’t trust implicitly.”
“Who?”
He snapped down the book he’d been reading. “Why? So you can kill them?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head and picked up the biography again. “No.”
“I knew I should have never stayed with you yesterday. Serves me right for being sentimental. I won’t make that mistake again.”
It set his teeth on edge, but he swallowed his anger. “There’s only one secure day-chamber on this vessel, so you’ll have to share unless you want to spend the day at the bottom of the ocean, Gemma.”
She sipped the blood-wine he’d stored in the galley. “I still can’t believe you kidnapped me.”
Time to change the subject. “How’s that batch?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug and rose to pace the deck. “Better, but I still think Rene could do more with the flavor of the port. The blood… actually tastes quite good. Very little of the normal staleness.”
Blood wine was their newest venture, and one that Terry hoped to have ready for export within the year. Vampires had experimented with preserving blood in alcohol for hundreds of years with mixed results, most of them bad. Wine, possibly for color reasons, was the most popular, but tended to leave the blood stale. Gemma had hired a brandy distiller from France two years before with the idea that a distilled liquor would have better results. Brandy hadn’t worked as well as she’d hoped, but port seemed to have real possibilities. The fortified wine’s sweet flavor masked the staleness of the blood and the higher alcohol content had kept some batches preserved for almost six months in a traditional wine cellar. If they produced it successfully, they would become some of the richest vampires in the world.
“Give me a taste?” He reached out a hand, aching to have her closer, even if she was just sharing a drink.
She wandered over, the white shift she’d put on fluttering in the night wind. He swallowed hard. She held the glass out, and Terry snatched it from her fingers before he pulled her down to his lap. She sat with a huff, but he nudged her chin up, pressing a soft kiss to the spot on her neck he knew she loved. Then he lifted the glass to her lips.
“Drink.”
She did. He pulled the glass away before he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, tasting the heady sweetness before he captured her mouth. He pulled back, taking a drink himself so his mouth was stained with the rich taste of the blood and wine. Gemma followed the scent, and he saw her fangs descend. She hungered. For him. For blood. He’d give her a taste, but it wasn’t time to slake her thirst just yet.
“Gemma?” His hand ran to the nape of her neck, tugging on the damp hair until he’d taken her lips again.
“Yes?”
“I want…”
Her heart was thumping steadily and it made him grin. “What?” she panted.
Terry pulled back and took a deep breath. “Dinner. You hungry?”
She blinked. “I… what?”
He set her on her feet and gave her bum an affectionate pat. “I’ll just make something light. You relax, luv. Enjoy the wine. That batch really is better. Might have to give the Frenchman a raise.” Then Terry left her stunned and slipped into the galley to poach the fish he’d caught earlier. This was going better than he’d expected.
“Bon appetit.”
He set the dish down in front of her. It was a light meal consisting of bluefish poached in white wine with some fruit on the side. As a younger vampire, Terry still enjoyed food more than Gemma did, but she did need a bit in her stomach to remain comfortable. Occasionally, he tried to imagine her as human, but he just couldn’t. She was the embodiment of immortal beauty to him. Everything about her screamed ferocious blood-sucking predator. No wonder he was in love.
“Is it all right, Gem?”
She frowned a little, looking at the table. “It’s fine. Thank you, Terry.”
Why’d she gone all quiet and soft? That wasn’t like her at all. “Gobsmacked again, eh? Sorry. I know you don’t like being surprised by my many talents. I’ll try to be more considerate in the future.”
And just like that, her eyes sparked. “I was trying to think of a gentle way to tell you that your French accent sounds like a nineteenth century whore, but there just isn’t one, is there?”
Terry grinned. There she was. “That might tell you where I learned it, luv.”
“I’d say, ‘Do tell.’ But I’d really rather you didn’t.”
After all, one of the reasons Terry had pursued Gemma was because of her family, and not for the reasons she suspected. Yes, Carwyn’s clan was hugely influential and powerful, but they also reminded Terry of his own human family. It was that dependability and trust he’d hungered for in their connection at first. Now, of course, it was much more.
But he wished she trusted him more. In hindsight, that might be one drawback to the whole kidnapping scheme. Still, one did what was necessary to achieve the desired results. Gemma was here, on his favorite boat, and he was going to spend the next week seducing her into falling in love with him.
Not a bad plan, really. He just hoped it worked.
Gemma was staring over the water. “Who had access to me while I was in day rest, Terry?”
His head fell back in frustration. “No one I don’t trust implicitly.”
“Who?”
He snapped down the book he’d been reading. “Why? So you can kill them?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head and picked up the biography again. “No.”
“I knew I should have never stayed with you yesterday. Serves me right for being sentimental. I won’t make that mistake again.”
It set his teeth on edge, but he swallowed his anger. “There’s only one secure day-chamber on this vessel, so you’ll have to share unless you want to spend the day at the bottom of the ocean, Gemma.”
She sipped the blood-wine he’d stored in the galley. “I still can’t believe you kidnapped me.”
Time to change the subject. “How’s that batch?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug and rose to pace the deck. “Better, but I still think Rene could do more with the flavor of the port. The blood… actually tastes quite good. Very little of the normal staleness.”
Blood wine was their newest venture, and one that Terry hoped to have ready for export within the year. Vampires had experimented with preserving blood in alcohol for hundreds of years with mixed results, most of them bad. Wine, possibly for color reasons, was the most popular, but tended to leave the blood stale. Gemma had hired a brandy distiller from France two years before with the idea that a distilled liquor would have better results. Brandy hadn’t worked as well as she’d hoped, but port seemed to have real possibilities. The fortified wine’s sweet flavor masked the staleness of the blood and the higher alcohol content had kept some batches preserved for almost six months in a traditional wine cellar. If they produced it successfully, they would become some of the richest vampires in the world.
“Give me a taste?” He reached out a hand, aching to have her closer, even if she was just sharing a drink.
She wandered over, the white shift she’d put on fluttering in the night wind. He swallowed hard. She held the glass out, and Terry snatched it from her fingers before he pulled her down to his lap. She sat with a huff, but he nudged her chin up, pressing a soft kiss to the spot on her neck he knew she loved. Then he lifted the glass to her lips.
“Drink.”
She did. He pulled the glass away before he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, tasting the heady sweetness before he captured her mouth. He pulled back, taking a drink himself so his mouth was stained with the rich taste of the blood and wine. Gemma followed the scent, and he saw her fangs descend. She hungered. For him. For blood. He’d give her a taste, but it wasn’t time to slake her thirst just yet.
“Gemma?” His hand ran to the nape of her neck, tugging on the damp hair until he’d taken her lips again.
“Yes?”
“I want…”
Her heart was thumping steadily and it made him grin. “What?” she panted.
Terry pulled back and took a deep breath. “Dinner. You hungry?”
She blinked. “I… what?”
He set her on her feet and gave her bum an affectionate pat. “I’ll just make something light. You relax, luv. Enjoy the wine. That batch really is better. Might have to give the Frenchman a raise.” Then Terry left her stunned and slipped into the galley to poach the fish he’d caught earlier. This was going better than he’d expected.
“Bon appetit.”
He set the dish down in front of her. It was a light meal consisting of bluefish poached in white wine with some fruit on the side. As a younger vampire, Terry still enjoyed food more than Gemma did, but she did need a bit in her stomach to remain comfortable. Occasionally, he tried to imagine her as human, but he just couldn’t. She was the embodiment of immortal beauty to him. Everything about her screamed ferocious blood-sucking predator. No wonder he was in love.
“Is it all right, Gem?”
She frowned a little, looking at the table. “It’s fine. Thank you, Terry.”
Why’d she gone all quiet and soft? That wasn’t like her at all. “Gobsmacked again, eh? Sorry. I know you don’t like being surprised by my many talents. I’ll try to be more considerate in the future.”
And just like that, her eyes sparked. “I was trying to think of a gentle way to tell you that your French accent sounds like a nineteenth century whore, but there just isn’t one, is there?”
Terry grinned. There she was. “That might tell you where I learned it, luv.”
“I’d say, ‘Do tell.’ But I’d really rather you didn’t.”
