Blood and Buttercups (A Vampire’s Guide to Gardening #1)

Chapter 27

An hour later, we leave the storage closet. Cassian locks the door, trapping Ethan inside.

I guess this is a dungeon after all.

“What are you going to do with him?” I ask, so exhausted, I feel like I have the flu.

“I’m going to send Chase the confession tape,” Cassian replies, sounding just as weary as I am. “And then I imagine they’ll send someone to pick up Ethan.”

“Chase Anthony is the director of the western region of NIHA,” Noah explains.

“What about the police?” I say. “Don’t they need to know?”

“Chase will take care of it,” Cassian says. “Our job here is done.”

Ethan spilled everything—how he paid the woman to infect him, her connection with Reid, how he attacked me, stalked me, kidnapped Olivia, killed Kevin and the woman he was with, framed a guy for it, and tried to kill Noah.

There was a lot to confess.

“Talk to Melissa,” Cassian says. “Stay the night—I have rooms for everyone.”

“Just how many guest rooms do you have?” I ask.

“Twenty-seven,” the handsome vampire growls, the question irritating him.

“Is that…bad?”

“The Biltmore has thirty-five.”

“The Biltmore in North Carolina?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’m sorry?”

“As am I.” He sighs as if attempting to let it go. “I need a shower.”

Noah nods, agreeing. “I’ll take my usual room.”

“That’s fine.”

“You have a room?” I ask Noah.

“I told you—Cassian and I used to be close,” Noah says, heading down the hall.

“We’re still close,” Cassian yells, rolling his eyes when he looks back at me.

“Don’t you hate lovers’ quarrels?” I tease.

The vampire’s lips curve in a crooked smile. “I don’t swing that way, Piper. Shall I show you how much I enjoy the fairer sex?”

I press my hand on his chest, holding him back. “You shall not.”

He grins, chuckling. “Later, perhaps.”

“Thank you for everything you did today.”

“It’s all part of the job.” He leans in, grinning. “I’m your conservator, after all.”

“Still?”

“Once Reid is gone, Noah will be returned to the field. I’m not going to leave you conservatorless.”

He might as well take that stake he’s casually holding and stab it in my heart.

“Back to Denver?” I say quietly.

Cassian’s eyes search mine, sympathetic. “That’s where his life is. And your life is in Glenwood Springs, with your flowers.”

I nod, looking down. “Right.”

I knew this all along—I warned myself not to become attached.

“But he’s not gone yet,” Cassian says. “Why don’t you check out the room next to his? I think it might suit you for the night.”

I look up at him, and he jerks his chin toward the hall, in the direction Noah disappeared.

“I’ll never find him. This place is huge.”

“Then you better hurry so you can catch him.”

“Thank you,” I say again. “You’re all right for a dusty old vampire.”

“Hurry up. Your friend and I have unfinished business.”

“If you bite Olivia, I really will stake you.”

“Go,” he laughs, his dark eyes warm.

I don’t find Noah before he leaves the basement, but I do run into Melissa.

“Do you know which way Noah went?” I ask her.

“I think he went to his usual room. Go down that hall, head up the stairs, take a left, and then go all the way to the end of the hall.”

“Are there numbers on the doors or anything?”

She sniffs like the question is ridiculous. “This isn’t a hotel.”

“Right.” Following her instructions, I jog after Noah, finding him just before he pushes through the door on the second level.

“Wait!” I call.

Noah turns, his eyes sweeping over me as I hurry to catch up with him. He wears an enigmatic expression, but a smile ghosts over his lips.

It breaks my heart a little.

“Hi,” I say when I stop in front of his door.

It’s quiet up here, just Noah, me, and probably fifteen silent maids watching us from hidden nooks and crannies.

“Hey,” he answers.

And suddenly, I don’t know what to say.

He nods inside. “You want to come in?”

“You said you were going to shower.”

Playfully, he raises his brows.

“I’m going to check out the room next door,” I say, flushing a little. “How about you tell me when you’re clean?”

“You don’t like me dirty?”

“Okay, go .” I laugh, shoving him into his room. Then I open the next door down.

It’s not a big room, but there’s a queen bed and an armoire. Noah must have an en suite bathroom in his, but this one doesn’t even have a closet. The view, though, is incredible.

I walk to the window, pushing back the sheers to look at the mountains. The setting sun casts the landscape in golden light, washing over the hillside and lighting the aspens, spruces, and wildflowers.

Yawning, I leave the window and crawl onto the bed, deciding I'll just close my eyes for a bit.

I’m mostly asleep when the bed shifts. I pry my eyes open and find Noah sitting next to me, his hair wet, wearing a new T-shirt and jeans.

“You have clothes here?” I ask groggily.

He rubs his hand over my shoulder, touching me like we’re closer than we are—like we’re at the beginning of a romance and not at the end of a business relationship. “Cassian and I have a complicated friendship.”

I roll over so I can look up at him. “I’ve noticed.”

He smiles down at me, so handsome it hurts. He’s my own brand of perfection, from his dark hair to his amber eyes, his strong build and stingy smile.

And I can’t have him.

“I’m clean now,” he says, his face solemn but his eyes bright.

I pinch the short sleeve of his shirt between my thumb and forefinger. “I noticed that, too.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“You’re proud of me?”

“For facing Ethan. For saving your friend.”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

He shakes his head, moving his hand to my face and brushing back my hair. “It was brave.” A wry smile flickers across his face. “But next time, why don’t you discuss it with me first?”

“I’ll definitely do that when I have to confront my next stalker.”

His smile is so affectionate, so warm. I give his shirt a little tug, just a suggestion—a soft, feather-like plea.

You can kiss me if you want to.

He contemplates me for several seconds, indecision flickering in his eyes, and then he lowers his head.

I close my eyes when his lips press against mine. They’re warm, firm yet yielding, perfect .

And gone too soon.

“Noah,” I say when he pulls back, running my hand over his soft cotton sleeve. “You know you don’t have to kiss me if it bothers you.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “Why would it bother me?”

“Because I’m…infected.” I swallow, suddenly feeling emotional. “Gross.”

“You will never be gross to me,” he vows.

Feeling vulnerable, I whisper, “You swear?”

“I swear. My attraction matches my affection. I like you and I want you.”

I search his honeyed eyes. “Then…show me.”

Noah’s expression becomes shadowed. I think he’s going to sit back, but instead, he wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, positioning me so we’re facing.

Our mouths meet, gentle at first, tentative, both of us a little nervous and out of practice. We spark and smolder, pull back, kiss again, lips closed, sweetly chaste.

But then…we catch fire.

“Noah,” I breathe.

He kisses me again, harder this time, maybe even a little desperate. I make a noise of pleasure, of delighted surprise, and it’s gasoline on an already growing fire.

With a low groan, Noah’s hands find my neck, and he twines his fingers into my hair. Our mouths move in tandem as my heart soars.

Noah kisses with his entire body, pressing into me and enveloping me in the clean, lingering fragrance of soap and shampoo. His hair is cool between my fingers, and his muscles flex under my touch.

He draws my bottom lip between his, sucking gently, and my hands move to his back. His mouth strays to my jaw, and then my neck, as he trails kisses along my skin.

Near my pulse point, he presses a soft kiss, lingering. When I draw in a breath and hold it, he teases his mouth over my skin, dragging his bottom lip back and forth.

“Noah,” I breathe.

“Yes?” he teases.

Coherent words are out of reach, so I clamp my mouth shut. When his tongue flicks against my skin, I gasp, my nerves sparking and butterflies swarming in my stomach.

I don’t know if it’s the vampire in me, or just the fact that Noah is so tempting, but I want his teeth grazing my skin. I need it.

I dig my hands into his back and tilt my head up, exposing the vulnerable stretch of skin.

“We need to stop,” he grits out, his hands sliding down my arms. He intertwines our fingers, keeping me from touching him. Or maybe keeping himself from touching me.

I close my eyes, reveling in the closeness and the warmth of his breath as it feathers over my neck. “I never want you to stop kissing me.”

“Piper,” he says, sounding almost anguished as he brings his mouth back to mine. He kisses me, lips closed, so controlled. Then he pulls back enough to meet my eyes. “We need to talk.”

“You have to go back to Denver.” High on everything that is Noah, I nip his bottom lip. “But I don’t care. We’ll deal with it later.”

“Piper, no.” He says it forcefully this time. “We need to stop now .”

It’s just like earlier—I bit him, and he recoiled.

Noah shifts to the side, moving me onto the bed, and angles away. He breathes hard as he shoves his hands through his hair, his back to me.

“I don’t know what keeps getting into me,” I say quietly, picking an nonexistent piece of lint off my shorts. “I don’t know why I keep nipping you. I’m like a puppy .”

He chokes out a laugh, shaking his head.

“But now I know you don’t like it.” I touch his arm. “I won’t do it again, I swear.”

He turns his head, angling back to look at me. “I never said I don’t like it.” Sighing heavily, turning back toward me, he runs his hands up and down my arms, his eyes never leaving mine. “I like it too much. But…it makes me want to nibble you, too.”

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, not sure if I’m going to laugh or throw myself at him. But for now, I wrap my arms around his neck and smile. “I don’t really see a problem with that.”

“I do.” He brings his hand to my face and strokes my jaw. His eyes search mine, and his frown deepens. “Piper, you’re not contagious. But I am .”

I go still, my mind trying to wrap around that. And then…I understand.

But no. He can’t be. Can he?

My eyes move to Noah’s arm, where he was shot just last night. The bandage is gone, and there’s no scar from the bullet wound. And his skin is warm…like skin should be. Not cold, not hot. The same temperature as mine—the same temperature as Ethan’s.

My stomach lurches.

“I’m sorry, Piper,” he says softly. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You’re a vampire ?” I whisper, horrified.

His eyes meet mine, anguished. “I’m a vampire.”

To be continued…