He paused. “I told you to pack.”
“I don’t give two figs what you told me to do.” She took a healthy drink of the dark red brew.
Ah. He rolled his neck to keep his impatience at bay. The woman had been hit with a lot in one day, and she was probably out of sorts. He could be patient. “Listen, Mariana. You’ve been found by the Kurjans, which means you need to leave here.”
She arched one eyebrow in a definite challenge. “I might be new to this crazy world, but they’re not regrouping tonight, Raine. You and Cade killed three of them, the tracker you put in my purse is on the side of the Interstate, and I have some time to relax. Maybe not much, but at least I have this night.”
It was probably true. “Okay, but you need to go first thing in the morning.”
She cocked her head, the movement full of dare.
The blood started rushing faster through his system, and adrenaline poured into his veins.
She took a delicate sip this time. “It’s my understanding that if I mate you, the Kurjans will no longer want me.”
His cock went rock hard. “We’re not mating.” His voice lowered to a harsh tone.
“Why not?” She looked at him, her brown eyes luminous in the soft night.
It was a good question. A fair one. “Mariana—”
“Did the mating mark appear on your hand because of me?” She took another drink.
It figured she’d be curious. Who wouldn’t be? “Yes.”
“When?”
“In Dallas when I was watching you.” He crossed around to sit in the chair opposite her.
Her grip visibly tightened on the wine glass. “So you were stalking me in Dallas.”
He winced. “Not really.” Damn, he would have to explain some of this to her. “There’s a coalition of immortal beings called the Realm, and it’s powerful and strong. The Maxwells do not belong to it.”
Her eyebrows drew down. “Why not?”
It was a risk to tell her their secret, but since he’d gotten her kidnapped by his brothers and then the Kurjans, he’d put her life in danger and owed her that at least. “It depends on who you speak with. The old timers say that we were cursed.”
She leaned toward him. “By witches? I heard there are witches.”
He grinned. “Witches alter matter by using quantum physics, string theory, and several theories and applications the humans haven’t discovered yet. They don’t do curses, and they don’t ride brooms. They’re just another species—a very smart one.”
“Oh.” She looked at the wine remaining in her glass. “That’s interesting. So how could you be cursed?”
He shrugged. “By fate or by science or by whatever. It never mattered. The truth is, now that we know more about genetics, we probably have a genetic mutation that’s passed from father to son. Every son gets it, and vampires only make boys, so there you go. We all get it.”
She settled back. “That’s why you’re dying?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “We live to around four hundred years old and then we die.”
She sputtered and then sucked in a deep breath. “You’re nearly four hundred years old?”
“It’s not that old for an immortal,” he said, surprised at his defensiveness.
Her mouth gaped open and then shut again. She breathed out. “Most immortals can’t die? At all?”
“All immortals can die by beheading and enough fire, although that’s rare. The Maxwells usually die from the curse.” They should probably find a better name for it, but he did feel cursed, so whatever.
“Why were you following me in Dallas, Raine?” she asked.
