His stomach roared in protest, demanding a taste of the blood that was starting to drive him out of his f.u.c.king mind. Cloe playfully patted his stomach, sending a new awareness through his system and making his c.o.c.k twitch in pleasure. It took him by surprise, robbing him of the ability to breathe as he struggled to get his body under control. He hadn't allowed himself to react to a woman in nearly fifty years and he didn't want to now, but it looked as though what he wanted no longer mattered.

"You might want to feed him," Cloe said with a wink as she stepped past him. He watched as she bent over to pick up a red shopping basket and nearly growled. Did she know how delectable that little round a.s.s of hers was?

Without a backwards glance, she headed down an aisle. d.a.m.n it! If he stayed here any longer he'd follow her down that aisle and drain her. He wouldn't be able to help himself. For a moment he stood there, struggling with the need to go after her. A not-so-discreet cough reminded him of the reason why he couldn't. With one last glance in the direction that she'd disappeared, he grabbed his sister's prescriptions and practically stormed out of the store. He jumped into his car and drove the usual five minute ride home in two.

He slammed the car door shut, rocking the car, and headed for the back door of the large white farmhouse that could really use a paint job. Once inside, he dropped the medication on the kitchen table and headed for the bas.e.m.e.nt. He hesitated at the door for a moment as he contemplated going out back and getting back to work, but the loud yawn that escaped him reminded him that he'd spent the better part of the last week working and could really use some sleep.

"Christofer, is that you?" Marta's scratchy voice called out from the living room.

"Yes, it's me. I'll be downstairs if you need anything," he said as he closed the door behind him. Not that it mattered since he could still hear everything Marta said or did perfectly and she knew it. Well, as long as he was paying attention, which he did at least forty percent of the time.

"I forgot to tell you that-"

"Tell me later, I'm going to get some sleep!" he yelled loud enough so that she could hear him as he walked across the large finished bas.e.m.e.nt to the refrigerator. He yanked the door open and grabbed two bags of blood and headed over to his bed where he flopped down on his back. He closed his eyes as he drank, imagining that it was Cloe's blood, but it didn't work.

His stomach knew that it was getting a cold subst.i.tution. Disgusted, he tossed the empty bags aside and picked up a book, hoping that a little distraction would get his thoughts away from where they didn't belong. When reading didn't help he tossed the book aside and closed his eyes, hoping that a nap would help ease the tension in his body.

As he drifted off, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to deserve such a f.u.c.ked up existence.

Chapter 3.

Twenty minutes later Cloe was pulling into the wide driveway of what appeared to be an old farm. It was actually very pretty even if the large white farmhouse looked like it could use some work. She looked around, noting the dirt road that continued ahead of her, winding past an old shed for a few hundred yards until it ended in front of a large white barn. The property was large and had a homey look to it that put a smile on her face. She'd always loved old houses.

After taking a moment to check to make sure that her hair and clothes looked decent, she made her way up to the front door and knocked. A moment later an old woman with a slight curve to her back opened the door and greeted her with a welcoming smile.

"h.e.l.lo, Ms. Petersen?" Cloe asked, returning the smile.

"You must be Cloe. Please, come in," Ms. Petersen said as she slowly moved to the side. With a murmured, "Thank you," Cloe stepped inside.

"Let's have a seat in the living room," Ms. Petersen suggested as she slowly walked towards a small sitting room.

All of the furniture was small, elegant with small patches of worn brown leather covering the barely-there padding on the back of the chairs and seats. In short, none of it looked comfortable. No wonder Ms. Petersen was hunched over. She would be too if she had to sit on this rigid furniture every day. Lace doilies covered all the tables as well as the backs of each chair, making the room look very old fashioned.

Upon further inspection, she noted the layer of dust, stacks of newspapers, junk mail and dull floors. If the rest of the house was anything like this then it was going to need a good cleaning, which of course was one of the reasons that she was here.

"Have a seat, dear," Ms. Petersen said, smiling warmly. Cloe picked up a slight accent, but couldn't quite place it. She sat down, but only after Ms. Petersen had.

"I was hoping that my brother would join us for this, but it seems that he needed a nap," Ms. Petersen said with an amused smile.

If the man was as old as the woman sitting in front of her then Cloe could understand his need for a nap. Heck, she was only twenty-eight and she really could use a nap after driving up from Florida on only two hours of sleep.

Ms. Petersen looked her over before giving her an approving nod. "You'll do just fine," she said softly.

"Ah, thank you," Cloe said, not really sure what the correct response to being perused over like a car for sale was.

Ms. Petersen clasped her hands together. "Now let's see, your room is on the second floor. You may have whichever room you want. My brother turned the dining room into my room several years ago, because I have such a difficult time climbing stairs," Ms. Peterson explained as Cloe nodded in understanding.

"My brother has the bas.e.m.e.nt as his bedroom. That is the first rule actually now that I think of it. Please do not go down there. My brother likes his privacy and if he discovered that anyone was down there he would become very upset."

"I understand. I won't intrude on his privacy," she quickly agreed since she had no desire to walk in on a ninety-year-old man in his birthday suit. Not her thing. Seriously.

"I should probably also mention that he would be very upset if anyone went in the barn," Ms. Petersen added with an apologetic smile. "That's where he keeps all his artwork."

"I understand," Cloe said with a rea.s.suring smile and a nod.

"Let's see," Ms. Petersen said as she took out a folded piece of paper. "My friend Gladyce told me that I should write down the rules and what I expect so that there won't be any misunderstandings."

'That sounds like a good idea," Cloe said encouragingly. The other woman nodded and smiled again, pleased that Cloe was so agreeable. From her experience as a live-in caregiver, Cloe knew all too well that a great deal of the elderly were treated little better than children and their opinions were often ignored. It was something that always bothered her and something that she strove not to do.

"Hmm, where to start...oh! Okay, no smoking or drinking in the house." She looked up to gage Cloe's response. When Cloe simply nodded, she continued. "No men in your room." That rule was more than fine with Cloe since men were the last thing she felt like dealing with at the moment.

"Anything else?" Cloe asked encouragingly.

Ms. Petersen frowned at her list. "That seems to be it for rules. Do you have a problem with any of them?"

"Absolutely none."

"Good, good, okay now the ch.o.r.es.....the house needs a deep cleaning and then daily cleaning. Then there's the lawn and you put down on your resume that you can do work as a handyman?" she asked, looking up at Cloe.

"Yes," Cloe hesitantly answered.

She almost lied, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. More times than she could count, her employers or their family tried to squeeze as much work out of her for her base salary as they possibly could. That sucked, because if that happened she was out of here. She was done with being used.

"Good! There's plenty of things around here that could use some attention. Oh, especially the house. It needs to be sc.r.a.ped and painted," Ms. Petersen rambled on about all of the things that could use some attention, oblivious to Cloe's lack of enthusiasm.

Somehow Cloe stopped herself from groaning her frustration. Well, it looked like she was going to have to accept that live-in position in Pennsylvania after all. "Ms. Petersen-"

"Now, according to Bernice, that's my friend, handymen make about fifteen to twenty dollars an hour. So, let's just say twenty dollars an hour for every hour that you work as a handyman. Is that sufficient?"

Cloe blinked. Then blinked again. "You want to pay me extra for doing handyman work?"

Ms. Petersen's smile slipped as her expression turned confused. "Of course, why would I expect you to do that for free when I hired you to be my helper? No," she shook her head firmly, "if you're going to do extra work then you'll get paid for it. My brother will be more than happy to pay you for it, especially since he was supposed to do it himself for the past ten years."

Cloe felt her eyes widen at that announcement. "No, that's fine. I'll do it when the rest of my ch.o.r.es are done." No way was she about to sit around while an old man climbed a ladder and fell, then had a ma.s.sive heart attack and died. Yeah, she could live without the added guilt.

Ms. Petersen looked back at her list for a moment before putting it away. "Let's see, there's also cooking, shopping, and running errands," she said, worry taking over her features as she finished her small list with a distressed, "Oh, no!"

She threw her arms up and tried to get to her feet. It took several tries and one of Cloe's hands before she managed to stand up. "There's nothing in the house to eat!" she announced as she grabbed her cane and headed towards an oversized black purse. "I'm afraid my brother forgot to do the shopping again," she said with a weary sigh. "It's one of the reasons why I finally decided to get a helper."

Cloe nodded, wondering just how much this woman expected of her brother. If he was anything like his sister he probably had enough problems with just taking care of himself.

Ms. Petersen pulled out another list. "Would you mind terribly going grocery shopping? You can add whatever you want to the list for snacks."

Cloe took the list and placed it in her pocket. "That's very kind, but it wouldn't be right. Meals are one thing, but I wouldn't feel right about having you pay for my snacks. I'll pay for them and if I have something you like then we'll share."

"Oh!" Ms. Petersen looked absolutely delighted. Then she frowned. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know what kind of snacks they have nowadays. It's been so long since I've been to the grocery store. Usually my brother takes the list and storms off."

Cloe's heart broke at Marta's wistful expression. She had no doubt that Ms. Petersen would prefer to go shopping for herself and get out of the house. Cloe didn't know much about her brother, but the least he could do was take his sister out for a ride.

"Why don't you join me? That way if you see something that you like you can get it," Cloe suggested.

"Well, I don't know," she said, looking down at her cane. "I wouldn't want to slow you down. That's why my brother doesn't take me."

Unless her brother was the Road Runner he had no business talking. No doubt he was just as slow.

"That's fine. I'm sure they have an electric scooter at the store that you can use."

"Really?" Ms. Petersen smiled, looking excited.

"Really. Do you want to go.....," Cloe's voice trailed off as she watched Ms. Petersen grab her oversized bag and hurry to the front door as though she was afraid that Cloe was going to change her mind.

Poor thing, Cloe thought, following after her.

With a pained sigh, Christofer climbed the stairs, slowly. It was time to make Marta's dinner. Actually, it was past time to make her dinner, he realized after a quick glance down at his watch.

s.h.i.t.

He must have been more exhausted than he'd thought. He'd slept for a good five hours. Feeling like an a.s.shole for making her wait, he moved his a.s.s faster.

Trying not to cringe when he saw the dirty counters, floor and stove, he made his way to the refrigerator. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd scrubbed down the kitchen, but it definitely needed it. After he finished this next project he'd focus on getting the house cleaned up for his sister.

"s.h.i.t," he muttered as he opened the refrigerator door and then the cabinets to find them empty. Looked like he forgot to go shopping, again, he realized with a wince.

"I guess it's pizza tonight," he mumbled, unable to help but feel a little relieved that he didn't have to cook tonight. He grabbed the portable phone and headed into Marta's part of the house. "Marta, what do you want on your pizza?" he yelled.

No answer.

"Marta?"

When she didn't answer, he closed his eyes and listened for her heartbeat. Nothing. Dread filled him. As much as he hated living in this town, he loved her and couldn't imagine his life without her.

He ran to her room and d.a.m.n near fell to his knees with relief when he didn't find her body. Then he went to the living room and when he didn't find her there, he searched the rest of the house, but there was no sign of her. He closed his eyes and inhaled again only to shake his head in disgust when he picked up Cloe's lingering scent on his clothes.

He ran outside and searched the backyard and adjoining woods, but there wasn't any sign of her. This wasn't like Marta. She never left the house to visit one of her friends without telling him first. More to the point, she couldn't leave the house if he didn't give her a ride.

An old memory of watching her being dragged from their childhood home tried to take over, but he pushed it aside before he lost control. Not knowing what else to do, he headed back into the house to find his cellphone. He called all her friends, who yelled at him for calling at the unG.o.dly hour of seven o'clock until he explained to them that Marta was missing. Then they panicked and began reminiscing about past events that had terrified them, like when Evelyn's poodle went missing for nearly a half hour. Before he did something like snap at the old women, he politely got off the phone, knowing Marta would hit him upside his head with her cane if he upset any of her friends.

He called the police next only to learn that he needed to wait twenty-four hours before he could file a missing person's report. Why in the h.e.l.l was he paying taxes if they weren't going to do their job? He asked them that only to have them hang up on him.

Finally, he walked out onto the front porch and waited and wondered what the h.e.l.l he should do next. This wasn't like Marta. She hadn't stepped out of the house without him in almost four decades.

No, something was wrong here. Someone had taken his sister. He slowly got to his feet, allowing the anger to build inside him. He was going to kill whoever dared lay a finger on her. His fangs shot out of his gums as his eyes burned and for the first time in nearly fifty years he welcomed them. He would never allow anyone to hurt his sister, not again.

Just as he was about to tear the town apart to find her, a small black SUV pulled into the driveway and parked next to his truck.

His jaw dropped as he watched....no, it couldn't be. It was! s.h.i.t. Hunger slammed into him as he watched Cloe climb out of the vehicle. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced them to shift back to normal. It took a few swipes of his tongue before his fangs receded. When he felt like he had a good grip on his control, he opened his eyes to watch her every move. She didn't even glance his way as she walked quickly around the car and helped someone out.

Marta.

He watched through narrowed slits as his sister grabbed her cane with a polite "thank you" and a big smile. She walked around the vehicle, grinning hugely as if he hadn't just spent the last two and a half hours worrying about her.

"Oh! There you are!" Marta said when she spotted him standing on the front steps. "Oh, I had such a wonderful time! First we went to the buffet that I've wanted to go to for years! Oh, it was so delicious! They cut the meat right there for you!"

She continued rambling on, oblivious to his seething anger. "I had a salad, and then some pasta, ham, turkey, fried chicken. Oh, it was so delicious! Then we went and tried the soft serve ice cream over on Wilmington." He stood there waiting for her to realize that she was in trouble. He had no idea where that woman got off taking his sister, but he was going to find out. Then he was going to drain her dry for taking his sister without his permission and scaring the ever-living h.e.l.l out of him!

"Did you know that they had electric scooters at the grocer's?" she asked in an accusing tone, cutting into his murderous thoughts.

s.h.i.t.

He had known. He just hadn't told her because he didn't want to chance even that slowing him down. He hated going out in public and having her along would just prolong the experience.

"It was so nice to pick out my own fruits and vegetables. The produce and meat departments are so much larger than I remembered. Cloe was so nice. She never once complained about how slow I was going," she said casually, but he didn't miss the reproachful tone in her voice.

He watched the woman in question open the hatch of her SUV. Something whacked him on the thigh, rather hard. He glared down at his sister who made no move to hide the fact that she'd just hit him with her cane.

"Don't just stand there. Go help her bring in the groceries," Marta said with a huff before she continued making her way inside the house.

Oh, if she was about forty years younger he'd actually consider pulling her over his knee and spanking her like their father had when they were children. She sent him a look that told him if he didn't move his a.s.s soon that she would come back down the stairs to give the other leg a good thump. d.a.m.n it, when had she gotten so bossy? He grumbled about annoying little sisters as he walked over to Cloe.

Cloe had three bags in her arms when she finally turned around and spotted him. Her warm smile appeared genuine, making him instantly cautious. No one looked at him that way except for Marta. Everyone else looked at him as if he was a freeloading freak. No, this woman was up to something. She'd already kidnapped Marta. Granted, she'd returned her, but from what he'd heard she was already spending Marta's money like there was no tomorrow. Correction, she was spending his money like there was no tomorrow.

"Hey, Hoodie, I'm surprised to see you here," she said as she somehow managed to pick up another bag.

"It's Christofer," he said evenly, making her smile falter a little.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry," she said sheepishly as she moved to step past him. He moved to the right, cutting her off.

"As much as I'd love to stand here and chat with you, Christofer, these bags are kind of heavy," she said as she tried to adjust her grip on the bags.

"What are you doing here, Cloe?" he asked softly as he fought the urge to lean in and inhale her scent more deeply into his lungs.

"At the moment? Probably developing a hernia," she groaned.

His lips twitched, despite his mood.

"Christofer, you help her!" Marta yelled from the front steps.

Grinding his teeth so that he didn't say something that would upset his sister, he reached out and relieved Cloe of the bags. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you," she murmured with a grateful smile.

He expected her to go inside and leave the bags to him, but instead, she turned around and grabbed three more bags and easily stepped around him and headed for the house, leaving him to follow after her or stand there looking like an idiot.