Jennifer Rardin [Jaz Parks series book 2] Another One Bites The Dust

 Down the carpeted hallway, the bathroom looked like it had been lifted straight out of the Ritz. And the bedroom had its own TV plus a big old queen-sized bed and plenty of drawer space. Oh, we still had that RV thing going on, where the couches and banquette all made into beds and you could store stuff in every conceivable nook and cranny. But, baby, we were stylin’.

 I’d just entered the RV when I heard Vayl come to life. The gulp he took reminded me of a kid who tries to hold his breath past too many rows of tombstones. I nodded to Cassandra, who’d looked up from her book when I came in. “Cole’s securing the trailer,” I whispered, since Bergman was snoozing, his face buried in a red tasseled pillow, his right arm and leg dragging the gold carpeted floor.

 Cassandra nodded and went back to her reading.

 I went to Vayl’s room and knocked on the door.

 “Jasmine?” His voice sounded gruff and slightly pained.

 “Yeah.”

 “Come in.”

 The light-impermeable tent he slept (died?) in every morning engulfed the top of the bed. He came around from behind it, closing the top button of his tailored black slacks, his navy blue shirt hanging open, revealing a broad, muscular chest covered with black curls and an empty gold chain that had once carried the ring I now wore on my right hand.

 I forced my eyes to the ring, swallowing a spurt of highly inappropriatewowsa. The rubies that marched around their gold settings glittered in the soft lights Vayl had turned on when he woke. I concentrated on the craftsmanship Vayl’s grandfather had put into the ring, the love and artistry and power that had been required to turn gold and gems into a relic that protected, and connected, us both.

 “What are you thinking?” he asked. He stood so close I could feel his cool breath against my heated face.

 “Your grandpa must’ve been an amazing man to have made such a beautiful ring for you.”

 I peered into Vayl’s eyes. At the moment they were the soft brown that characterized his most relaxed, real self. They squeezed at the corners, as they often did when I forced him into his distant, painful past.

 “He was . . . devoted to his family, but also very set in his way of thinking.” His lips drew back at some memory.

 “Vayl?”

 He began forcing the buttons of his shirt through their holes so abruptly I was surprised they didn’t pop off. “Do you know how the Roma regard vampires?” he demanded.

 “No, not really.” Though I should. Why didn’t I delve more into Vayl’s roots?Because to know him is to love him, and you’re so not ready to go there.

 “To the Roma we are dead. And therefore unclean. But that impurity is spread also to our family.” When I didn’t seem suitably impressed Vayl said, “When my grandfather found out about Liliana and I, he led the mob that came to kill us.”

 “But . . . he made the ring for you. He knew your soul would be in danger—”

 “Yes, but he expected me to be attacked by demons. He did not think I would become one myself.”

 “And, what, infect your family somehow?”

 “No, not infect them. Kill them, turn them, destroy their very souls.”

 “Well, that’s just stupid.”

 Vayl’s finger brushed against the ring he’d given me. He called it Cirilai, which meant “Guardian.” The barest hint of a smile lifted his lips. “I appreciate your support. But you must remember the age. It was 1751. Long before computers, cars, penicillin, or anything approaching civil rights. Even now the Roma are a tortured people. But then, it was magnified a thousand times. All they had was one another.”

 “So what, they had to cut you out of the flock in order to save the rest?”

 “I suppose you could look at it that way.”

 “But you’re here. How did you survive?”

 “My father arrived first. He could not bear to lose me. He said I was all he had left of my mother. He moved us to a safe place as we slept. And then, that night, for our own safety he returned and banished us.”

 “You can do that? Banish vampires?”

 He fixed me with his most piercing glare. “You can, if you have the power and the means. But it is not common knowledge. I tell you this strictly assverhamin toavhar , which means you may not share this information with anyone else.”

 “There you go again, invoking our special bond, like I know all the rules or something. Is there a book I can read somewhere? Because I’m getting a little tired of being in the dark on the parameters of this relationship.”

 Twitch of the lip. In any other man, it would’ve been a full-face smile. Maybe even an outright laugh. But I guess when somebody murders your sons, and your closest relations all try to kill or kick you out before you turn forty, you learn fast how to nail those emotions in the coffin you refuse to sleep in when the sun rises.

 Vayl said, “You do not strike me as the type of person who enjoys being lectured. In fact, I sense that if I began to list all of the intricacies of thesverhamin/avhar connection and the related rules, the moment I turned around you would fish out your tape recorder, set it on the nearest flat surface, and sneak off to the closest all-night monster truck rally.”

 “Okay, although my taste runs more to auto racing, I get your point. Just don’t get all pissy when I break a rule I’m not even aware of.”

 “Fair enough.” Vayl collapsed his tent with a couple of quick moves, and suddenly there was a nice big bed at our backs. Vayl’s eyes strayed to my neck and I knew we were both remembering the time I’d bared it to him.