I sniffed and raised my head. I looked at the mirror, but it only reflected back the dark, empty room. I turned around. Thierry was sitting on the inside of the windowsill next to my open window.
“What are you doing here?” I tried to wipe my tears away.
He stood up. “I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” I said, but my voice was shaky. “Can’t you see that I’m fine? Just peachy keen, jelly bean. Never better.”
“You could have fooled me.” He took a deep breath and didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “About what happened at the club the other day-”
“Don’t worry,” I said, stopping him. “I said I’d never go there again and I won’t.”
“No, it’s not that. Well, actually, it is that.”
“What?”
“I was wrong to say those things to you.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You were wrong?”
“Please, let me finish. I will admit that since I first agreed to help you in your new life, I haven’t been there as I said I would be. If I had, you wouldn’t have crossed paths with Quinn. Your unfortunate decisions were made as an innocent fledgling in need of an attentive sire. And for me to demand that you leave the only life you’ve known without having any support was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have been surprised when you decided to go against my wishes.” He crossed his arms and looked away. “I sent George here to keep an eye on you—make sure you were all right. I did hope he would be able to do it a little more subtly, but what’s done is done.”
I blinked. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine for the drive back to the city tomorrow morning, yes.”
I was allowing the fact that Thierry had just apologized to me to sink in. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that this was a rare event.
“Why were you crying?” he asked after a moment.
I shrugged at the empty mirror. Then I pointed at it, afraid that I might make a weird sound if I tried to talk over that big lump in my throat.
“Oh,” Thierry said. “That reminds me, I brought you a little something.” He stood up and moved closer to me and reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a medium-size blue box wrapped with a white ribbon and placed it in front of me on the vanity.
I looked up at him. “What’s this?”
“A gift.”
Thierry had gotten me a gift? I picked it up, pulled off the ribbon, and looked into the box. There was a silver oval inside. I took it out and looked up at Thierry in confusion. He seemed amused.
“Open it up,” he said.
The oval was about four inches in diameter with a release mechanism at the bottom. I pressed the button and up popped the top. It was an antique silver compact, like one you’d use to powder your nose in the old days.
“It’s very pretty,” I said as I stared at my red-eyed reflection in the small mirror.
Wait a minute. My reflection? I watched my eyes widen with the growing awareness. It was a shard. Thierry had given me a shard—a special mirror like Zelda had told me about. Of the highly expensive variety.
I raised my wide eyes to look at Thierry.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
I started crying again, but now for an entirely different reason. Thierry was going to think I was a complete basket case, but I didn’t care. He looked dismayed as I gently put the shard down and got to my feet.
“If you don’t like it,” he said, “I can—”
I squeezed his words off with a huge bear hug, pressing my nightshirt against his black suit.
“I love it, Thierry. Thank you so, so much.” I looked up at him, my eyes filled with tears of happiness. He smiled down at me. He looked great when he smiled. He pushed the tears off my cheeks with his thumbs and gently held my face in his hands, just staring at me with his silvery eyes. His smile slowly vanished.
My heart was pounding hard as I looked into his eyes. He leaned closer to me, and I could feel his warm breath glance against my face. He was breathing faster than he should have been, and his heart was beating against my own. He pulled me to him and our lips met, softly at first but slowly growing in intensity, until we were battling each other for who could kiss deeper and sweeter and longer. I traced my hands down his back, under his jacket and lower still, pressing his body even closer against my own. His hands moved down to the backs of my bare thighs and he lifted me up, turned us around, and we fell down to my messy single bed without his lips leaving mine for even a moment. His weight pressed me firmly against the narrow mattress, and he began to kiss down my neck with a growing hunger.
The fleeting thought of Why did I have to wear my Rollerskating Mama nightshirt to bed tonight? went through my mind, but I pushed it away. Thierry traced his mouth back up my neck to claim my lips again, and I forgot all about the stupid nightshirt. But I’d definitely go shopping for some sexy new lingerie as soon as I got back to the city. Oh, yeah. I ran my tongue along the inside of his mouth and then lightly across his fangs. He let out a low moan and pulled back a bit to stare down at me, with dark eyes.
“Is this the way you always say thank you for a gift?”
“Absolutely.” I grabbed the back of his head to pull him down to me again. “Now shut up.”
His mouth curled into a smile and he kissed me again. There was a sharp knock at my door.
“Sarah?” my mother’s voice said. “What’s going on in there?”
“Oh, shit,” I murmured against Thierry’s lips. I gently pushed his face away so my voice wouldn’t be muffled. “Nothing, Mom.”
“You don’t have a boy in there with you, do you? Is it George? I said he could stay in the guest room, young lady. We have rules in this house.”
Thierry looked down at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Um… nope. Nobody’s in here, Mom. Just little ole me.”
“Can I come in?”
“Uh… yeah, just a sec.” I squirmed out from beneath Thierry and straightened out my nightshirt. I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself as best I could. Why did I feel guilty having a man in my room? I wasn’t fourteen anymore, for Pete’s sake. Thierry slowly pushed up off the bed. He moved toward the open window, and I gave him a sheepish look. Sheepish yet sexy. At least that’s what I was striving for. He cleared his throat quietly, ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, and smiled back at me. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”
“Make it nine?”
“Eight-thirty. Good night, Sarah.” He climbed out the window and, with a last look, was gone just like that.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to look calm before I opened the door. My mother stood in the doorway wearing her bright green housecoat and looking a little worse for wear. Maybe her hangover had kicked in early.
“Yeah, Mom? What is it?”
“Do you want eggs for breakfast?”
I blinked at her. “You just wanted to know if I wanted eggs for breakfast?”