There was no retreat left for him. The moment he stared into her eyes, he was gone—hers for all eternity.
His loyalty to all others sapped away, leaving him shaken and hollow, hungry for the female before him. She would fill every void and satisfy every ache, but a tiny shred of shame remained and he cowered like a frightened dog.
Without a bit of inflection, he held her stare. “Aim for my neck and shoot my head clear off my shoulders, and you shall be the angel of mercy I need.”
Sighing, she lowered the gun, and he faced her. Her eyes crinkled and her lips pursed but kept her finger tucked neatly into the trigger guard.
“You must be Jonas.”
This was no dream. Here, in the hell of his reality, nothing was protecting her from his savage need.
“Save yourself and end this.” Hooking a finger under the tip of the rifle, he lifted it until it lodged into the flesh of his throat. “I’m ready.”
She lowered the gun again. “I’ve been expecting you. Let’s get out of the cold.” She reached for the door and paused. “My grandchildren are still sleeping. You misbehave and I’ll blow a hole in your chest bigger than the Liberty Bell.” The screen whined open, and she nodded for him to enter. “Go on.”
The gun practically outweighed her petite body, yet she held it without trembling. “You’re inviting me in?” Was she daft?
“I’ve had a visitor for the past few days who’s explained matters to me. Like I said, I’ve been expecting you.”
His jaw hardened. “Who?” Breathing deep, he scented the air, and his hackles rose. Another immortal male was inside.
His eyes dilated as a growl rumbled within his chest. There was something familiar about the scent, but his beast could only recognize the presence of another male near its mate, the presence of a threat—
“Now, don’t you start growling and snarling like some dirty dog. That man in there has been nothing but polite since he arrived. He warned me you might not recognize him.” She stepped in front of him, blocking his entry and looking up at him through wise, patient eyes. “He says he’s your son.”
A memory of his children danced through his mind, unfamiliar yet triggering a sense of nostalgia. His mind clung to a glimpse of Abilene but the vision dissolved the harder he tried to grab hold.
He had two sons: Cain and Adam. He scented the air again. “Cain.” The name passed his lips as a whispered oath. Why was Cain there?
A growl purred through clenched teeth. His son had a bad habit of getting too familiar with other males’ mates.
He sneered at her. “You should not have let him inside your home.”
“Oh, please, the bud’s been off this rose for quite some time, and I’ve never been much of a fan of veal. I prefer my meat a bit more seasoned.”
Did she believe she was younger than him? “What exactly has my son told you?”
“Come inside and we will discuss it. This chill burns my lungs something fierce, and my arthritis is starting to ache.”
The mention of her discomfort was enough to earn his obedience. Soon, her pain would fade and she’d enjoy the eternal health of an immortal.
She was fragile and aged but a timeless beauty. The need to please her dictated his good behavior with unexpected force. He entered her home like a docile, domesticated pet.
The scent of fresh coffee, paint, and mortal children bombarded him. Cain was there but out of sight, wisely keeping his distance.
“Sit.” She pointed to the small kitchen table dominating the cramped space.
The wooden chair creaked under his weight. Resting his palms on the smooth enameled surface of the table, he watched her set the rifle in the corner.
Boxes and paintings lay stacked against almost every wall. Apothecary bottles cluttered the kitchen counter by the dozen. A collage of colored photographs decorated the ice box.
She set two steaming mugs on the table, sliding one in front of him. He caught her hand and she stilled.
Her delicate bones were as fragile as a bird. He could snap her in half with a flick of his wrist. “You’re fragile,” he said almost accusingly, her brittleness concerning him.
“I’m old. It comes with the territory.”
Not always, he thought.
She pulled her hand away and glared at him. “You get that one for free. Touch me again, and we’ll have a problem.”
His mouth twitched with the urge to smile. What exactly did she think she could do to him? His strength far outweighed hers and a bullet would be a welcomed end, so long as her aim was decent.
He did not want to be there, yet he found it impossible to leave.
“Drink your coffee.”
Jonas pulled the mug to his lips and pretended to take a sip. His system no longer wanted food, and everything tasted of bitter ash.