Homeward

HOMEWARD

Ward of the Vampire – Part 5

Kallysten

When Angelina decides to put some distance between Morgan and herself, she is certain it is the right thing to do. It isn’t fear of his vampire fangs that motivates her, nor the fact that she’s been maneuvered into his life by Morgan’s meddling family, but rather the realization that he needs time to be ready for a relationship.

Her certainty that this is the correct course of action doesn’t last long.

Between nosy friends, regular text messages, impromptu lunches at the mansion and an invitation to have tea with Miss Delilah and the blood-chilling Irene, her resolve is quickly tested. And when she’s offered a private flight to the nearest thing to paradise on Earth to save Morgan from himself, she can’t say no anymore.

This trip, however, turns out much different from what she expected…

Copyright © 2014 Kallysten

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First Published 2014

All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Edited by Mary S.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Homeward

Excerpt

A closer look at the On The Edge series

About the author

HOMEWARD

I didn’t run away.

In case you were wondering.

I had half a dozen excellent reasons to leave the Ward mansion—a gorgeous house, half residence, half museum overlooking Central Park. For one thing, I’d been trapped in it against my will for two weeks. I’d been threatened here. Physically assaulted by a deranged woman. I’d damn well near died a couple times. I’d had my head messed with in pleasant and not-so-pleasant ways. I’d started to get claustrophobic to a degree I’d never experienced before.

And I’d fallen in love with Morgan Ward.

That, too, was a reason to leave.

All of it was a monumentally bad idea. It wasn’t about the fact that we’d all but been forced into each other’s arms by his meddling, psychopathic family. It wasn’t even about the fact that he was a vampire. By now, you must have realized I didn’t give a damn about that. Maybe I should have, maybe him being something other than human should have terrified me—or at least troubled me—but truly, honestly, I didn’t care.

What I did care about, what the deal breaker was for me, the one reason why I thought I should leave despite being in love with him was this: I didn’t believe he was ready to be in a relationship, with me or anyone else. He still hurt over a past relationship—over multiple past relationships—and I didn’t know if there was anything I could do to help him get past that other than give him time and space.

So I should have left. I’d been all set to leave, in fact, freed at last from the compulsion that had kept me trapped. My suitcase was packed and my heart resolved.

And I’d have been a complete and absolute coward if I had left like that.

Yes, he still hurt over his past relationships. He hadn’t moved on from either of the last two women he’d loved. For that matter, he had killed both of them, which really should have been one more checkmark in the ‘leave now’ column. But hurting or not, trapped in the past or not, I knew he felt something for me. He hadn’t named it, he hadn’t admitted to any feelings the way I had, but we’d been together, he’d been inside my body and mind, and I refused—I completely and utterly refused—to believe for one second that it had meant nothing to him. He hadn’t just fucked me. He’d made love to me. And then he’d tried to scare me off and prove to me that he was nothing more than damaged goods. Dangerous damaged goods, at that. I’d almost fallen for it.

But like I said, I wasn’t a coward. Or I didn’t want to be one. In the end, the result was the same.

I dragged my suitcase back to my suite, kicked off my shoes, and tiptoed through the hallways back to Morgan’s room. I have no idea why I tried to be so quiet. There were only two other people in the mansion. Stephen, the butler, was awake, as I knew quite well since he’d been the one to stop me in my tracks and make me question my runaway plan. And Morgan… If he was still asleep, no doubt he’d wake once I entered his room.

Just the same, I was as quiet as I could when I pushed the door open and stepped inside. In the bluish light cast by his alarm clock, I approached the bed. Morgan was on his side, facing away from me, the sheet riding low on his hips. I climbed in and lay down behind him, winding an arm around his waist. I pressed my forehead to the back of his neck and breathed in, taking in his scent. His usual cologne was little more than a faded memory. Stronger was the smell of him, musky, masculine—the smell of sex, too, lingering from our night together.

The moment I curled my arm around him, he turned to stone against me, dispelling any doubt I might have had that he was asleep.

We stayed like that for a long time. I kept hoping he’d turn toward me, kiss me, maybe, or even do more, and we wouldn’t need to have this conversation quite yet. Wishful thinking.

You didn’t leave, he finally said, and that was the very opposite of what I expected.

If you’d asked me what I thought he’d say, I’d have bet he’d accuse me of leaving his bed when I’d said I wouldn’t run away from him even after what he’d showed me of his past. That would have been the logical thing for him to say. After all, I had left; my return didn’t change that.

But when he said those three words, ‘you didn’t leave,’ I realized he wasn’t talking about the bed. He wasn’t turning things around and commenting on my return. It sounded much different. What he was saying was, ‘you didn’t leave the mansion like I expected you to. How come?’

Which meant that he knew I was free to leave. And he hadn’t told me he knew.

Granted, I hadn’t told him about Miss Delilah’s visit and the fact that she had freed me from her compulsion, but only because she’d placed me under another compulsion and forbidden me to tell him.

So how did he know?

How did you know?

That you didn’t leave? Your presence here right now is sort of a giveaway.

I tightened my arm around him and raked my teeth over his shoulder. Using teeth on a vampire. Smart, that’s me.

Don’t pretend to be obtuse, I said, ignoring his hiss. You know what I mean. How did you know I could leave?

He gave a small shrug. Feeling his body shift against mine should not have felt that good—and yet.

This is my home, he said. Do you think anything can happen here without my knowledge? Like my dear sister visiting and opening the doors of your gilded cage? Honestly, Angelina. Shouldn’t you know me better by now?

He had a point. I should have seen it coming. After all, I knew he had a PI tracking her, so I should have guessed he’d know she’d returned to New York and had come to the mansion.

You knew the entire time? I asked in a murmur. Last night? When I asked you to have dinner with me?

Yes.

I tried to wrap my mind around that, but it proved difficult. I’d thought I was lying to him, if only by omission, but he had known all along. Was that why he’d agreed to dinner, why he’d taken me to his bed for real this time, not just as a fantasy? Because he knew it might be his last chance? Our last chance?

And then it struck me.

You were saying goodbye, I breathed. All of it. It was goodbye, wasn’t it? And you even tried to make sure I would actually leave. That’s why you tried to scare me away by showing me that memory of yours. You’re such a fucking jerk!

Tears prickled my eyes, and I buried my face at the back of his neck, tightening my arm around him at the same time.

Mixed messages, he commented. Calling people jerks and then clinging to them? Not particularly helpful.

Because you’re helpful? I countered, my words muffled against him. When you make love to me one moment and then scare me the next, that’s not mixed messages?

He laid his arm over mine, entwining our fingers together.

You’re still here, so I’m assuming the scaring part didn’t work very well.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I was mad at him, mad at myself, mad at Miss Delilah and Irene and quite possibly the entire world—but I wasn’t sure I even knew why I was mad anymore.

I almost left this morning, I confided when my thoughts had quieted down. I packed and everything.

He’d relaxed against me, but now he tensed again.

And then, I continued, I realized that’s something you’d do. Leave without a word when the conversation isn’t over. I’ve been so mad at you for doing that before. I couldn’t do it to you.

You should have, he murmured. It’d have been easier.

And there was that word again. God, I hated it, and I hated hearing Morgan say it even more. Easier wasn’t right. Easier was a cop-out, and in the end it made everything more complicated. Pulling back a little, I tugged him onto his back so I could look at his eyes, make him look at me and see how much I meant my words when