Blood of the Maple

Love? by combining it with Here’s Blood in Your Eye. Oh, and there’s some Maple Madness in there too.”

Parker gaped, his expression reverent. “It’s the supernatural Ben and Jerry’s.”

Ken laughed as Parker got down on his knees and prostrated himself before the counter. “Thanks! I’ll tell my dad to keep it in stock.” He rang them up, and he waved goodbye when Parker paid. “Enjoy your ice cream, Dr. Hollis. Amara.”

Parker waved his cone. “You can call me Parker.”

The kid nodded and waved to the next person in line. “Hey, Mr. Wulfenbach. What can I get you?”

Amara was careful not to bump into the werewolf alpha. He didn’t snarl and snap at her like some of the others, but she’d hardly call him warm and fuzzy either. And he’d never done anything to make the rest of the pack back off when they took it into their heads to get really annoying. “Hair of the Dog, kid.”

“Coming right up.”

Parker held open the door for her. “Wow. You guys take your ice cream seriously.”

Amara licked her cone. Yum. “You have a problem with that?”

“Hell no.”

She didn’t understand his rough tone. She licked another side of the ice cream, allowing the rich flavor to burst on her tongue. She moaned at the rich, creamy goodness. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

“Remind me to buy an ice-cream maker.”

She looked up at him. His gaze was glued to her mouth. His cone was beginning to drip down his hand. “Lick it.” He blinked, and she realized what she’d said. She could feel her cheeks heating. “Your ice cream—it’s melting. Lick it.”

He did, moving his tongue along his hand and back up to the ice cream, circling the creamy tip. His eyes never left hers. Amara’s nipples were rock hard by the time he was done.

“You’re right. This is incredibly good.”

Somehow she knew he wasn’t talking about the ice cream.

“Uh. Yeah.”

He smiled, the look so smug, so male, she wanted to kick him. “So. The curse. Greg. The idea that dryads are tasty morsels. Inquiring minds want to know.”

He cleared his throat. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked uncomfortable, and she had to wonder why. “Let’s finish our ice cream first, shall we?”

“It’s going to take a while, I gather.”

“You gather correctly.”

They walked in silence, each concentrating on their cones. Okay, Parker was concentrating on his cone. Amara’s attention wavered between her treat and Parker’s mouth.

She was really coming to like his mouth.

He finished first and tossed the cone into one of the trash cans that lined the streets, then licked the sticky mess from his hand. “That was good. Thank you for taking me there.”

She blushed in pleasure. “Make sure you let Ken know if you think it could be better.” She looked up at him from under her lashes, shy now that they were almost home. “And you’re welcome.”

“I will.” He stretched, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut over his chest, and Amara’s heart rate sped up again. “Are you all right?”

“Mm-hmm.” She devoured her ice cream, barely tasting it before it was gone, and tried to ignore his slow grin. They walked up the steps to Amara’s home. “May I come in?”

“Will you explain everything to me? And I mean everything.”

“I’ll do my best.” His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops, and his sexy grin morphed into an embarrassed one.

“You’d better.” She didn’t know why, but damn it, she not only wanted him, she trusted him. He intrigued her, and she was determined to find out why. She unlocked the door and led the way. “I’d offer you a drink, but—”

“That’s all right. I’m full.” Parker gestured toward the couch. “Perhaps we should get comfortable. The tale of my rampant stupidity might take a while.”

She sat and waited for him to settle next to her. “All right. You have my attention.”

“Long ago, during the age of hippies and free love, I was an idiot.”

Amara did her best not to smile.

“Why do I have the feeling you’re wondering what’s changed?” He held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. Please. Greg is more than happy to point out my flaws in perpetuity. I believe it might be why he decided on an afterlife after death, so he could continue to tell me I told you so.” Parker ran his fingers through his hair. “During a bonfire in the desert I met a woman, a young hippie named Terri. And no, she hadn’t changed her name to something like Moonflower or Starlust or anything like that.”

“Starlust?”

“You’d be amazed how many people ask me that. Like all of us went around calling ourselves Moonpuppy or something. Anyway, she was pretty, she danced like a dream and she thought my accent was groovy. Greg disliked her from the first, but I found myself watching her more and more, until eventually we wound up sleeping together.”

Okay. Amara really didn’t like this part of the story. She doubted much sleeping had gone on, and picturing it made fire burn in her belly, the kind that had her ripping out weeds by the roots.

Not good.

“I thought it was another one of those things—two people coming together in an LSD haze of good feeling and good feeding. Terri thought it was more. When she realized I was ready to move on, she kidnapped me.”

“How?” Kidnapping a vampire was damn near impossible.

“She used magic. Terri, as it turns out, is a witch.”

And that was why it was only nearly impossible. “Damn. That goes against the Rede.”

“An it harm none, do as thou wilt? I believe Terri was beyond that point before I ever met her. By the time she cursed me, there was no way she was white or gray. She had to be black.” And black witches, those practitioners who put their personal gain above anything else, were one of the most feared creatures in the world. Selfish and brutal in their attempts to satisfy all their cravings, dark practitioners lived for nothing and no one but themselves. “She brewed a potion that would change my diet and force me to become dependent on her for sustenance. When I struggled to get away, I knocked the chalice containing the potion and splashed us both. Now I’m cursed to drink nothing but green, leafy blood, and Terri is…a monster.”

“Monster?”

“She sprouts.”

“I sprout.”

“Not like you. It’s not natural. She smells vile and looks worse. She’s… Damn. How do I describe her?”

“She’s a weed?”

“That’s one way, I suppose. I’d go with pond slime myself.”

Amara wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“Exactly. What’s worse, she’s killed the few women I’ve tried to establish relationships with. She’s bloody dangerous, and I’m a complete pillock for putting you in danger this way.”

“What does pillock mean?”

She didn’t know vampires could blush like that. “It means idiot. Asshole. Someone who’s done something extraordinarily stupid.”

“Oh.” Her eyes were glowing, but she didn’t care. A weed was trying to kill Parker. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to deal with weeds. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t killed her.”

Frustration, confusion, anger—they were easy to read in Parker’s face. “I have no idea. Whenever she comes close to me, I run like some pigtailed girl being chased by the boogeyman. I want desperately for this to end, but every time I think about killing her…” He shuddered and paled. “I think something about the curse stays my hand.” The feel of Parker’s hand on hers calmed her, settled the raging inferno inside her. “You have to know I’m very interested in you.”

He’d made it clear he wanted more than ice cream and an occasional movie date, and from the way she