“Get your ass in here and help me. I don’t trust you not to try and run off again.”
I got to my feet and followed him into the kitchen. I sat at the bar as he studied the contents of the fridge. In turn, I studied him. He was good-looking, clearly intelligent, and strong. I sensed no evil from him. I couldn’t understand why he was working with Rhiannon.
“Go ahead and ask,” he said as he turned from the fridge with a package of mushrooms in his hand.
“How did you know I wanted to ask you a question?” I queried.
He tapped his temple with his free hand. “You’re thinking so loudly that I can practically hear you even though you’re not speaking. Just ask me whatever it is so I can get some peace and quiet.”
I rolled my eyes. He acted tough and abrasive, but his behavior with me and his emotions, what few I could discern, told a different story. “Why are you helping Rhiannon? You’re not evil, I could feel it if you were. And you don’t enjoy causing pain. So what do you get from this?”
He tossed the mushrooms next to the sink and braced his hands on the counter. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
I shook my head. “But you’re evading my question.”
He ripped open the package of mushrooms and began taking them out one by one. “She has something I need.”
I studied his face then looked deeper. Whatever it was, it was vital to him. I could sense his regret and his desire to be free of her hold.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The name of my maker.”
“You don’t know who made you?” That was strange. Most vampires had close relationships with their creators. It was considered an important relationship in vampire culture, similar to that of a parent and child. Or in the case of mates, a husband and wife.
He shook his head, and to my utter shock, answered my question. “I-I can’t remember,” he replied. “I can’t remember anything about when I was turned or even before. I woke up one day and knew nothing, not even my own name. I was fully grown, but couldn’t recall my childhood. Then the first time I needed to feed…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching. “I need to find my maker and find out why they abandoned me with no memories in a land that I didn’t understand.”
Sympathy welled inside me. I couldn’t imagine waking up one day without a name or friends and family. The very idea scared the heck out of me.
“Don’t pity me,” he said gruffly. “I’ve done well enough.”
I pushed my sympathy for him aside. This man had kidnapped me. He didn’t deserve pity, even with a story like that. “How long have you been with Rhiannon?”
“A few years,” he answered cryptically, his attention on the mushrooms as he cleaned them.
I stared at him in consternation. Macgrath wasn’t stupid. How could he believe after years with Rhiannon that she still intended to help him?
He stopped what he was doing and turned his eyes to me. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” I asked in confusion.
“Thinking so loudly that I can nearly hear every word.” He sighed and reached beneath the counter for a cutting board and knife. He began to chop the mushrooms.
I watched as he sliced the mushrooms neatly then turned and took an onion from a basket on the counter. He removed the skin and chopped it as well.
Finally, he said, “I know she isn’t going to help me.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because I have nowhere else to go.”
I couldn’t imagine that feeling. Despite the problems my abilities caused me, I had friends and family to help me if I needed it. Though I often felt alone, I wasn’t. Not truly. Not in the way that Macgrath had been and still was.
I didn’t say anything else as Macgrath took the ingredients to the gas range and began putting together a meal.
A few minutes later, the front door opened and Rhiannon sauntered inside, looking cool and fresh despite the heat outside.
“Good evening,” she greeted me pleasantly, as though I were an invited guest rather than a victim of a kidnapping.
