He looks puzzled, so I say, “You want to know about my ‘batshit crazy relationship’ with my ‘friend’?” I repeat his words back to him. “That ‘friend’ is my oldest and dearest friend in the world. He’s one of mine.”
“Of course, he is,” Cole sighs. “He didn’t
want you to tell me, did he?”
I shake my head, “No, but he changed his mind.”
“What made him do that?”
“CK convinced him, sort of. It’s complicated.” I brush it aside. “Cole, I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a car park, and I don’t want to go back in there,” I say, gesturing at the restaurant.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
“Home,” I say, suddenly weary. “I will answer any questions you have if you want to come with me. I do understand if you don’t.”
“Let’s go then,” he says and unlocks the car. I smile weakly, not quite willing myself to believe that things are fine just yet. I peer over his shoulder with a frown at the huge black SUV that suddenly tears away from the sidewalk and drives off, as I get into the car.
We’re both silent on the way home, each lost in our own thoughts.
“When you said, ‘he’s one of mine’ what did you mean exactly?” Cole’s question jolts me out of my reverie.
“Oh, I meant that I turned him. Made him a Vampire,” I say absently.
Cole’s mouth drops open in shock.
“By his own choice!” I add loudly.
Staring at me and not at the road, he stutters, “People ask you to turn them into Vampires?”
“Eyes on the road, please,” I say sweetly. He snaps his attention back.
“Sometimes. Not all who ask are turned. It’s up to the sire,” I say, cautiously.
“Sire?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
“The one doing the turning,” I clarify.
“So, you are Devon’s sire?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. And yours is?”
“CK.”
“Of course, he is,” he mutters. “How did he react when you told him you were going to tell me?”
“Not happy, but he accepted it,” I say shortly.
“Oh.”
At this point we are back home. As he pulls the car up to the front, I leap out before he cuts the engine. Restless now, I need to move. Following me inside to the bar, Cole asks for a beer while I pour myself another glass of wine.
“I definitely should have asked for another one at dinner,” he jokes.
I narrow my eyes at him, realizing he hasn’t eaten. “Are you hungry?”
He shakes his head as I hand him a bottle. “Are you?” he asks.