Free Department 57: Bloody Crystal by Lynne Connolly

the kettle and finding mugs for the coffee. It meant she didn’t have to look at him while she told him what she thought. “What do you think?” he asked her.
    “It’s nice. But it has no soul.” That was the problem, she realized. “It’s like a show home. No tatty books, no ornaments that don’t match, nothing personal . Did your uncle really live here?”
    He sighed. “Yes, but it was a slum. Awful. It stank, and it had old newspapers and garbage in every room. It was as if he’d nested here.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d made sure he didn’t want for money, but he wasn’t particularly friendly. Having a nephew who was his several greats older but looked a lot younger than him freaked him out, I guess. So I stayed away. When he died, I tried to find other relatives, but there were none left. None my solicitor could find, anyway. So I got it. I had a choice. I could sell it as it was, or I could refurbish it. I decided to do that, but I don’t want to make a profit. I don’t want it to become a holiday home.”
    She turned around, her back to the work surface. “I’m so relieved. I thought it was your taste or something.”
    He grinned. “It has no taste. Or at least, I asked the people I employed to do the work to make it neutral. Whoever takes it over can put their personality into it.” He’d taken a seat at the large kitchen table, and now he stretched, putting his hands behind his head.
    “In that case,” she said, “it’s perfect.”
    “Come here.”
    Abandoning the kettle, which would switch itself off once it boiled, she crossed the room and stood between his open thighs. He studied her, his face relaxed and open. She loved that. She guessed his life hadn’t been without its troubles. He slid his hands around her waist.
    Then something occurred to her. “You said your uncle is really your nephew. Does that mean he wasn’t a vampire?”
    He met her gaze steadily. “Yes, that’s what it means.”
    “So—so your family weren’t vampires?”
    “Nope.”
    She swallowed. “You’re a made vampire.” She caught her breath as he nodded to confirm. She should have realized before, but she’d almost come to think of made vampires as legends. It was so hard to achieve she’d thought it a myth.
    “I am.”
    “You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to.”
    He got to his feet but kept hold of her, his arms around her waist. “Later. I’ll tell you later.”
    And just like she’d dreamed as a girl, he swept her into his arms and took her upstairs.
    She wasn’t wearing much. Neither was he. They began to strip each other between kisses and caresses. When he bared her breasts, he paused and lifted one gently. “These are so lovely. Every time I see them, I’m amazed at how beautiful they are.” And he drew her close and kissed her, nestling her against his hard, broad chest. She loved his heat. He always seemed so hot. “I’m not usually this greedy with a woman. I should have taken you for dates, treated you a bit more, but I can’t seem to get past the bedroom. I’m sorry.”
    “What for?” She didn’t care. “So I’m a cheap date. So what? It’s what I want too.”
    He touched his lips to her forehead. She loved their closeness at these times and the way he let her in. She wasn’t fooled by the casual way he allowed her into his mind. She’d sensed closed areas and hadn’t pushed, feeling that he didn’t do this often. Not that she’d ask. He might close up. He had secrets. She knew that, and she didn’t feel she should press. Maybe natural reticence, the way her parents had brought her up to respect people’s spaces. And the knowledge that this was all they’d have. He’d move on. She’d mourn, but she’d keep that to herself. Maybe they could meet again as friends in the future, and in that case, he might not want her to know too much about him.
    He growled low in his throat, kissed her, plunging his