Mysteria Nights

“You’re so different here,” she’d said of him on the balcony, and she’d seemed to like the difference. Colin had been different. He’d been himself again—or at least his prevampire self. Unending night had worn on him until he’d become as dark as his surroundings. Even his ranch had become a black place for him. He’d never been able to go out on his land, work his horses, or care for the cattle in the daylight. He hired hands to do that for him. But for decades he’d found solace in roaming his land at night—in chasing the last rays of sunlight as day reluctantly gave way to night, and then, in turn, giving way to the sun as it inevitably reclaimed the sky. Not so recently. Recently his life had seemed nothing but unending darkness, his beloved ranch not freedom and open space, but just another gilded cage where night continued to imprison him.

Living a life of shadows had worn on him and darkened Colin’s personality as well. But that wasn’t really him. It was what this damn vampire curse had turned him into. Summer could change that; Summer could change everything, and he wanted her to. He wanted to be the Colin who laughed and lived and loved again.

So he’d put in an overseas call to his brother who was still sleeping his way around gay Paris, and Barnabas had told him Summer was staying in her sister, Candice’s, cabin, which sat in a clearing at the southern edge of the pine forest surrounding Mysteria. Which is why he had just trekked through said forest with Summer’s purse and a gift for her and why he was now standing just inside the edge of trees facing the brightly lit little cabin with its homey, wraparound porch.

Colin drew a deep breath. Sunlight and honey—he could scent her from there. She had to be home. He started forward, telling himself that the jittery feeling in his stomach wasn’t nerves, it was just anticipation. Which was only natural; it had been decades since he’d been interested enough to actually consider courting a lady. He just needed to remember that he used to be good with the ladies. Charming—that’s how they used to describe him. Out of practice he may be, but he’d dig deep and put back on that old charm, and Summer would see that—

The door to her cabin opened, and Colin came to an abrupt halt when a man’s body was silhouetted clearly in the doorway. Summer joined the guy, and Colin’s gaze focused on her, blocking out the man and the night and everything but this amazing woman who was, to him, a waking dream.

He loved what she was wearing. The skirt was soft and feminine, and coupled with the creamy yellow of her shirt and the gold of her hair, she looked just like she smelled: like a vision of sunlight and sweetness. He wanted to take her in his arms and mold her softness to his body and inhale her fragrance until he had to fight with himself not to explode.

Then the guy moved, blocking his view of Summer. With a growing sense of horror, Colin watched the jerk nonchalantly drape an arm over her shoulder. Another scent came to him then: one of lemons and laughter and . . . and . . . fairies?

The asshole who was trying to steal his sunshine was a fairy? His jaw tightened, and it felt like someone had slammed a sledgehammer into his gut when the Goddess-be-damned fairy bent and began gently kissing Summer. For a moment Colin stood, rooted into place. Then, with a small sound of disgust, he turned and melted back into the darkness of the forest.

Just beyond vision of the cabin, Colin paced . . . and paced . . . and paced. He had the urge to throw her purse into the branches of the nearest pine and break the carefully wrapped package into a million little pieces, but he managed to control himself, although just barely.

Summer had said she had a boyfriend, but he’d scented her then and hadn’t smelled even a hint of another male on her. He had most definitely not smelled that fucking blond lemon drop! Yet the fairy had been there—in her home—with his lips all over her.

All right. Fine. He should have expected a woman as attractive as Summer to have other suitors. He would just have to step up his game. He was more than a match for the lemon drop. Fairies, even the wingless male variety, were all fickle sluts. Didn’t Summer know that? Maybe she didn’t. His brother had said she’d just moved back after being away for most of her four years of college. Maybe she didn’t have much experience with adult male fairies. Colin’s jaw clenched again, and his hands fisted. He’d crush that damn lemon drop into a little yellow speck if he did anything to hurt her.

By the time he’d paced off his temper and returned to Summer’s cabin, the lights had been turned out. The scent of lemon fairy had also been extinguished, which helped to calm him. The damn lemon drop hadn’t stayed the night. Colin left his offering on the porch just before dawn.

* * *

The morning was gorgeous. It was weird how getting rid of an old crush had cleared her vision. Her plan had been flawed, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t get busy on a new one . . . a new one that might just be tall and dark and handsome. She really shouldn’t obsess so much about being in perfect control. And, anyway, she could handle the vampire. She’d certainly handled the fairy. She was definitely interested in Colin, or at least she thought she might be interested in him. Well, she was going to stop by the gallery on her way home from school to get her purse. She’d see then if there really was any attraction going on with the vamp and take it from there.

Summer felt amazingly alive and happy as she slathered black raspberry jam on a piece of toast and munched on it hurrying out of the cabin on her way to school—and almost tripped and fell face-first over the heap of stuff in front of her door.

“What the—” Summer rubbed the knee she’d landed on, looking back at the pile of . . . “My purse,” she murmured. Sure enough, her purse was there. Right in front of the door. Sitting next to it was a package wrapped in expensive black tissue paper. There was a simple ivory card taped to it that just said For Summer in an old-fashioned-looking cursive script. Intrigued, she fingered the card and then opened the package carefully, so she didn’t mess up the beautiful paper.

Summer gasped and oohed in pleasure. It was a copy of the Romeo and Juliet painting, reproduced in oil on canvas and framed in an exquisite gold-painted wood frame.

“Colin,” she whispered and felt a thrill of pleasure thrum through her at the sound of his name.

“That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Jenny said over the barely edible lunch they’d bought from the vomitorium, aka the school cafeteria.

“It has to have come from him. Right?”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Of course it came from him. Hello! He brought back your purse, and—now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe he’s the only vampire you got zapped into the R and J painting with.”

“Definitely the only one.”

“The vamp is wooing you,” Jenny said smugly.

“Wooing? Is that even still a word?”

“Yes. And that’s what he’s doing. So prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

Jenny shook her head sadly. “Oh, you poor child. I would imagine that a rough ballpark on your vampire’s age is probably at least two hundred.”

Summer blinked. “He’s not my vampire.”

“Yet,” Jenny said.

“Two hundred,” Summer said as if she hadn’t spoken. “As in years old?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“And as that very tasteful, expensive, and sexy gift shows, men used to know how to do some wooing.”

“Wow.” Summer considered Jenny’s words as she tried to chew her soyburger. “I’m going over there,” she said decisively.

“To the gallery?”

“Yes. I’m going to thank him for the painting. And for returning my purse. Plus, uh, I’d, well, like to make sure there’s no misunderstanding about anything he might have accidentally seen last night.”

“You lost me on that one.”

“Ken kissed me good night last night.”

“So? You said you decided you’re totally not interested in him.”

“I did, and it was his kiss that sealed my decision. But first I thought I should give him a chance, which meant I kissed him back.”

“Again, so?”