I convinced myself that after everything that happened and all the time that passed, I could handle being with him without being buried alive by the weight of my emotions.
I convinced myself that I hate him, that I could drive a wall of anger between us and keep him from affecting me.
It’s a cruel slap to the face to realize that I love him as deeply now as I ever did. Time and distance have done nothing but steal the past seven years I could’ve been spending with my father.
His rejection branded my heart and broke me, but it was me who couldn’t face the pain. It was me who turned down all the invitations to spend time with Da and Francesco over the years that followed.
And now there will be no more invitations.
“There you are. I thought I lost—Scotland?” Tucker kneels in front of me and drops his face into my line of vision. “How can I help you?”
“I don’t have a father anymore. Everything around me is wrong and I can’t call him for advice or even to hear his voice. His life was stolen. I don’t think I’ll survive this.”
Tucker’s muscular frame shifts before me and then he lifts me up as if I weigh nothing and settles me on his lap. The moment I’m in his arms, my heartache eases. I’m not sure what kind of preternatural DNA he has, but he soothes me.
Tilting his head, he rests his cheek on the top of my head. “I’ve been where you are and I’m sorry you’re there. My mama was the sun in my universe and when she passed, I thought my heart would literally implode and darkness would swallow me whole.”
That’s how I feel. That’s exactly it.
“I promise it won’t last. Bran was a man of integrity and internal strength and you’re his daughter. You’ll survive because there is no other option. And in the moments when you falter, I’ll be here to hold back the world for you until you feel up to doing it yourself.”
I sit straight and twist to meet his gaze. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why will you be there for me? Why do you care? Why, on the worst day of my life, does being near you and hearing your voice make everything suck a little less? What are you?”
He glances around and shrugs. “How about you ask me that again when we’re not sitting in a vampire compound where everyone has heightened hearing?”
Fair enough.
Zane told me he’s Jack’s son, and that Da thoroughly vetted him when he arrived to build a relationship with his father. Beyond that, his muscled hotness, and the way his voice carries a bit of a growl in its lower register, I know nothing about this man.
My instincts tell me he’s a good guy—a great guy—and that he’s got a magical vibe.
But he’s right. This isn’t the time or place.
Patting his strong, stubbled jaw, I rein in my emotions and hit reset. “Let me see if Zane needs help to get everyone settled. Then we’ll take you back to the safe house. I want to keep Jack close until he’s back on his feet. Also, I have so many questions about squire powers.”
Tucker grips my hips and lifts me to my feet. “Sounds good to me. And I admit, the idea of sleeping under the same roof as you works for me. Any chance we could get adjoining rooms? It would save a lot of sneaking around.”
I laugh. “Pretty sure of yourself, are you?”
He grins. “We’re going to happen, beautiful. The only question is the timing of when we get together. I vote sooner rather than later. Why deny ourselves?”
It doesn’t sound like he’s joking, but then again, I barely know him. “Time will tell. For right now, let’s check on your dad and then I’ll find Zane.”
I shake off the sexual teasing of our moment in the shadows, and we step back into the buzz of the Vasari family.
It’s disorienting that vampires live and love during the night hours, and my days and nights have to flip.
With everything that’s happened in the past two days, I couldn’t tell you if it was day or night right now. The only signal I have that it’s still daylight is that most of the vampires here have taken to the bunk beds and are sleeping.
Not everyone, though.
Tucker and I seem to have caught the attention of two vampires I don’t recognize. They are standing shoulder to shoulder, blatantly staring and speaking to one another under their breath. One is a black man with long dreads, and the otherhas a silly Fu Manchu mustache and a pathetic tuft of hair on his chin that is supposed to be a goatee.
“Friends of yours?” I ask.
