Chapter Fifteen
Tessa strolled down a deserted sidewalk on UNC Chapel Hill’s campus.
Few students were out and about. She couldn’t decide whether they were all inside, studying their butts off because final exams were next week, or the cooler weather had caught them off guard and driven them to seek warmth indoors. A cold front had swept through and lowered temps more than the meteorologists had predicted. After a long summer loaded with record-breaking temperatures and a warmer-than-usual autumn, the chilly breeze felt positively frigid to some.
Fortunately, Tessa could control her body temperature.
An imposing figure sauntered along beside her, his strides shortened to accommodate hers.
She glanced up at Jared from the corner of her eye.
Why did so many people think large men were awkward and clumsy? If anything, the ancient immortal possessed a certain natural grace. Or maybe confidence lent his movements the smoothness that somehow conveyed both casual disregard and indomitable strength.
Anyone studying Jared might think he paid little attention to his surroundings. Yet his sharp gaze missed nothing, and she knew well the power he wielded.
As usual, he was quiet in her company. Tessa couldn’t decide how she felt about that. The guards at network headquarters often complained about his loquacious nature, claiming he talked their ears off.
Was there something about her that dissuaded conversation?
Did he mistake her quiet nature for aloofness or unwelcome?
Others had in the past. It sometimes seemed as if the more time people spent staring at their phones instead of interacting with others, the less capable they were of identifying or understanding something as simple as shyness.
Not that she was shy, per se. She was just often more content to let others do the talking.
Habit, Tessa supposed. She learned much more about people by observing them while they chatted than by jibber-jabbering herself. If one paid attention, it rarely took long to determine who was honest and who talked out of their butts. Who was manipulative and who was kind. Who delighted in tearing others down and who took pleasure in lifting them up.
Those were all essential details to know when you had a unique ability that would endanger your life if someone chose to deceive you and expose it.
“Thank you for hunting with me,” she said.
“It is my pleasure,” her partner responded with a slight bow.
She’d noticed that about him, too. Jared often reverted to more formal speech and mannerisms while in her company. “I was restless,” she confessed.
“I was aware.” Of course he was. Jared missed very little. “Does hunting help?”
Guilt suffused her. “Yes. Hunting with Sean was a welcome distraction. It helped me forget for a time.” Forcing a laugh, she looked away. “That makes me sound as crazy as the vampires, doesn’t it?”
“No.” Jared didn’t prevaricate either, something she admired. He was what her brother would’ve called a straight shooter and spoke his mind.
On this, however, she disagreed with him.
Stuart and the other vampires at network headquarters had an excuse for wanting to hunt. The virus chipping away at their minds also fueled a growing thirst for violence. Now that Cliff no longer battled insanity or needed the outlet, Bastien periodically took Stuart hunting with him to reduce the frequency of the psychotic breaks the young vampire suffered and give him an outlet for the vicious impulses the insanity spawned.
“Are you sure?” she countered. “What does wanting to go out and kill vampires for a distraction say about me?”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “It says you care about the safety of others more than you do your own. That you will risk your life to keep others from losing theirs to predators they have no hopes of defeating.” He hesitated. “And it says grief is eating you up inside, that you’re hurting and desperately need a respite.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“Guilt is, too.”
Yes, Jared missed nothing. Guilt over giving her loyalty to the man who had eviscerated her brother in front of her constantly gnawed at her. Yet she couldn’t view her actions with the positive context he’d applied to them.
“We all have regrets,” he murmured.
When she looked at him, his gaze seemed far away, as if he saw the past rather than the placid campus around them. “Even you?” She found it hard to imagine someone of his age and wisdom making the mistakes she had.
His lips turned up in a smile that bore no mirth. “Oh yes. Several millennia’s worth.”
Would she say the same thousands of years from now?
Shivering at the depressing thought, Tessa hoped not.
Long minutes passed as they meandered down the path.
“When I wish to forget those regrets for a time, do you know what one of my favorite distractions is?” he asked casually.
“Movies?” she guessed with a smile.
He grinned with boyish enthusiasm, the expression taking years off his face and making him look almost as young as some of the university students. “Yes.”
Oddly, it lightened her spirits. She studied him curiously. According to the accounts she’d heard, Jared had lived in almost total isolation for thousands of years. “Did you only discover movies recently?”
“Oh no. Films have long been my secret obsession. Many years ago, when rumors surfaced that someone had discovered a way to create moving pictures, curiosity drove me to slip away from the Others and see for myself.”
She grinned, imagining him sneaking out like a teenager despite the thousands of years he’d lived.
“Did you know that when movies first got going during the silent era, the industry was full of women writers, directors, and producers?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”
He nodded. “Oh yes. Far more women directed films then than today. Lois Weber was even Universal’s highest-paid director at one point and launched her own production company, signing what was then considered the most lucrative deal in the industry with Paramount. The films were quite progressive, too, as some would say today. Not at all what you would expect.” Warming to the subject, he regaled her with descriptions of early movies that sounded nothing like the black-and-white movies she’d watched with her great-grandparents.
Tessa smiled as he grew more animated, that odd reserve falling away. Before long, she chatted as fervently as he did, her troubles forgotten as he entertained her with tales of furtively attending movie screenings, even though he was supposed to avoid all interactions with humanity.
She grinned when he admitted that he’d once hidden in the rafters of a warehouse to watch the production process and, when he got hungry, zipped past craft services to steal treats meant for the actors. She laughed when he told her he’d once shifted into the form of a cow so he could appear in a western.
“I told myself that I wasn’t technically breaking the rules,” he said with a grin, “because I was only interacting with other cows, not with humans.”
Tessa was still laughing when his cell phone chimed.
“Forgive the interruption.” He drew it from his back pocket. “I’m fielding some of Seth’s calls tonight.”
She nodded.
“Yes?” he answered.