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He could see the appeal. There was something special about this quaint, sleepy town. It had just the right combination of grit and innocence—a throwback to a simpler time.
“I do have a job here, after all.”
Kenton smiled. What appealed to Lawrence about standing behind a bar slinging drinks, he would never know. Perhaps Alessandra’s roommate factored into his decision?
“You?”
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
Kenton stuck out his hand, and Lawrence shook it.
“Thank you,” he said. To his surprise, he meant it—with every fiber of his being.
No other words were needed.
His time at Stone Haven had come to an end.
* * *
Alessandra rocked backand forth on her porch swing as she watched passersby on the street. The final shriek of the train’s whistle broke her reverie, reminding her of its caboose. And Kenton.
If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost feel the power of the train racing toward the center of town. Or maybe she was just imagining that.
Something she wasn’t imagining? A vampire nearby.
A chill had crept up her spine and settled in her chest, blooming into a pulse of warning like the one she’d felt the other night. This wasn’t Kenton or a Derrickson, but a vampire she didn’t know.
Lifting her shirt, she fumbled with the belt and wooden knife at her waist. She’d promised Lawrence to wear it, always, but she’d never imagined needing it so soon. Or ever.
So much for the cloaking.
Pulling out Lawrence’s knife—the one Birdie had given her sat inside on her dresser, useless—Alessandra gripped the handle and waited.
He, or she, was getting closer.
Heart hammering in her chest, Alessandra remembered to lower the weapon just in case it could be seen far away.
“If a human sees you brandishing a wooden knife, you’ll need a good explanation for it,” Lawrence had reminded her. She was far enough away from the street that it likely wouldn’t be seen, but still . . . the person approaching her wasn’t human.
With every second that ticked by, the feeling of danger increased, and she could sense the vampire—a man, she thought—approaching. Her fingers tightened on the weapon until the grip was painful, and then they tightened more.
She stood, her instincts bringing her off her feet and ensuring she was no longer a sitting duck, and caught a glimpse of the door. Should she go inside? Her logical mind told her she should, but something inside her pulsed an objection.
Then she saw him at the end of the sidewalk. He could only be Kenton’s brother. He had the same black hair. As he approached the porch, she could see the same blue eyes. But the darkness she’d sensed in Kenton was a damn rainbow compared to this guy. She didn’t need her ancestor’s blood running through her veins to know this man was a threat. The murderous look in his eyes told her as much.
“What does a schoolteacher need with a wooden knife?” he asked, taking another step toward her.
When he spoke, hatred poured from him like liquid fire.
She’d never been good at keeping quiet, but her life had never been on the line before. Anything she said right now could lead to a fight—one she’d likely loose. So, against her every instinct, Alessandra remained silent.
“It seems I was right the first time,” he said.
He had been here that night.
Gripping the handle, Alessandra concentrated on the exact spot where Laria had told her to aim. But could she really stab Kenton’s brother in the heart?
