“I’ve had a few friends like that in my lifetime.”
“Unfortunately, I think we all have. I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home; there’s blood in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you.”
Dante hesitated before heading into the bathroom. After the events of this night, all he wanted was to hold her and reassure himself she was okay.
However, he couldn’t stand the smell of himself anymore. He cast a glance back at where she stood by the door, looking a little lost as she played with the sleeves of her sweatshirt and gazed at his shelves. Reluctantly, he closed the door.
Chapter Sixteen
A small pang of loss tugged at Cassidy’s heart when Dante shut the door. She shoved it aside as she turned her attention to the bookshelves. She strolled the shelves, examining their contents. There were so many books that, in some areas, they were stacked two or three deep.
As she studied the titles, she was amused to discover he had a bunch of romance novels tossed in with his collection of sci-fi, fantasy, horror, thrillers, and classics. He didn’t seem to care what he read as long as he had something to read.
It reminded her of her taste in music. She favored music that relied heavily on the piano, like Billy Joel, but she loved and listened to everything as she sought to learn and absorb the beauty of each style. It may not all be as pleasing to the ear, but it was all music, and to her, it was all wonderful.
When she got to the picture of the happy family, she stopped to examine it more closely. They were beautiful, with their beaming smiles and their love for each other radiating from them. This family wasn’t pretending to be happy for the picture. Teenagers made it damn clear when they weren’t happy, no matter the circumstances.
While she studied this young, smiling Dante more closely, she pondered what happened to cause the sorrow that now resided in his eyes. Whatever it was, it must have been bad.
She ran her fingers over his face before pulling her hand away and walking into the kitchen. The violence in the club hadn’t sent her spiraling into bloodlust like some of the other vamps, but she was hungry. She pulled open the fridge, removed a bag of blood, and drank it in three gulps.
She tossed the bag in the trash and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The blood hadn’t completely satisfied her, but she felt a lot better as she returned to examining his books.
Dante turned off the shower, dressed, and opened the door as Cassidy pulled a silver photo album from the bookshelves. Shit!
He hadn’t forgotten it was there; he could never forget that, but in his rush to get clean, he hadn’t considered she might find it. If he had, he would have taken the thing with him and shoved it in the closet.
He almost shouted at her to put it back, but it was too late; she was already opening it. And yelling at her would do nothing more than confuse her and probably make her a little scared of him. He didn’t want her touching it and seeing what lay within, but he couldn’t risk pushing her away.
Being around her was the first bit of happiness he’d experienced in almost twenty years. He couldn’t go back to the dreary existence that ruled his days since Maya’s disappearance. While living in it, he’d made peace with his fate, but after having Cassidy in his life, it might kill him to go back.
He watched as she flipped through the pages covered in protective plastic before turning to the very first page. Her fingers fell on the photo there; she looked at his family picture on the bookshelf and back again.
Cassidy felt Dante’s eyes boring into her back, but she didn’t know what to say or how to react to what she’d discovered in the book. There were at least a hundred photos of young men and women inside it. Each had a name and date above them; some were marked dead while most others were marked found.
And on the very first page was the young woman from his family photo. Cassidy traced her fingers over the girl’s name, Maya, before taking in the letters written in a shaky hand “Lost.” Cassidy gulped as she started to understand some of Dante’s sadness.
She examined the photo and the woman’s sparkling black eyes as she beamed at the camera. In a candid shot, the woman was looking over her shoulder at whoever snapped the picture. Her black hair, caught in a breeze, flowed around her face. She was stunning, brilliantly happy, and lost.
Finally finding the courage to do so, she turned to Dante. His jeans and black T-shirt hugged his lean frame. A brass locket with a rose compass on it hung in the middle of his chest, and she recalled it poking her cheek in the club.
The look on his face caused her hands to tighten on the book. There was something so wounded and guarded about him as he stared at her. She yearned to go to him, hug him, and ease the torment in his eyes, but she also wanted answers.
“Is she your sister?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“She was.”
“Was?”
For years, he’d known Maya hadn’t run away; she never would have willingly left them… unless she was dead. He knew it the minute she disappeared, but he’d never admitted it out loud to anyone before.
“I don’t know where she is, but I know she’s not alive,” he said. “She never would have taken off like some people believed she did. She didn’t have
