She gave him a worried look. "You were having an odd conversation with Lady Pamela."
About the length of nights? Was Darcy concerned that he knew about vampires? Or that he knew about her? Well, wasn't that too bad. She'd let him kiss her several times. Just when in the course of their relationship had she planned on telling him that she was dead? "I was bull-shitting her."
Darcy's eyebrows rose. "Why? Are you suddenly interested in winning the contest and the money?"
"I don't give a damn about the money. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder why I'm here at all."
She opened the door to the pool house. "I thought..." She closed her eyes briefly. "Maybe I was mistaken."
She'd thought he was interested in her? He had been, dammit, until he'd found out the truth. He wandered into the pool house. The main room was a combination den and kitchen. White wicker furniture was strewn about, covered with cushions in a tropical print. Darcy's papers were on the kitchen table. The night before, on the way to the swimming pool, he had snuck into the pool house and hidden a camera over the front door. He hadn't used it yet. The last thing he wanted was to watch Darcy drinking blood or falling into her death sleep.
"Over here." She wandered into the tiny kitchen. The only appliances consisted of a small refrigerator and microwave. She turned on the water over the single sink. "Come and rinse off your finger."
He stuck his hand in the cold water.
She handed him a towel. "Something's wrong. I can tell. You won't even look at me."
He shrugged and dried his hand.
"Do you really not approve of women wearing pants?"
"No. I just told Lady Pamela what she wanted to hear."
Darcy stiffened and frowned at him. "Is that what you do? Tell women what they want to hear?"
He dropped the towel on the counter. "I need to go."
"You need a Band-Aid." She opened the first-aid box.
"I don't need anything! It's just a little prick."
Anger flared in her eyes. "Your finger or you?" She ripped open a Band-Aid package.
He seethed with frustration. Dammit, he hadn't known she was dead when he pursued her. But she had known. She should have stopped him.
"Give me your finger." She reached for his hand.
He stepped back. "Give me the Band-Aid."
She tossed it on the counter. "Fine. Bandage yourself."
"I will." He struggled to put it on with his left hand.
She glared at him. "I don't understand you. You keep asking me questions and saying things like you know too much... stuff."
"You're imagining that."
"Am I? All I ever hear from you is how I should trust you and confide in you, and when I finally feel like I can trust you, you turn away."
He gritted his teeth. "I haven't gone away. I'm still here."
"You won't even look at me or touch me. What happened?"
He finished attaching the bandage. "Nothing. I... decided this wasn't going to work."
"You decided? I don't have any say in the matter?"
No, you're dead. "Good-bye." He strode toward the door.
"Adam! Why did you do this to me?"
He paused at the door and looked back. His heart squeezed in his chest. Holy crap. Her eyes were full of tears. He was making her cry. Dead women don't cry.
She stalked toward him. "Since you're so sensitive and empathic, tell me what I'm feeling now." A tear ran down her cheek, and it struck him like an ice pick ripping at his heart.
He looked away. "I can't."
"You can't feel it? Or you can't admit that you're the one causing me so much pain?"
He flinched. "I'm sorry." He ran toward the stairwell, but realized he couldn't face those other vampires yet. He slipped into the greenhouse so he could be alone. He sat on the bench and dropped his head into his hands. How could he admit he was causing Darcy pain? Dead people didn't feel pain. They didn't cry. They didn't look at you like you were breaking their heart.
Holy shit. How could he deal with this? If he admitted she was in pain, he would have to admit she was still alive. He'd have to deal with the fact that she was a vampire. And his job at the CIA was to terminate vampires.
What an unholy mess. If only he had known ahead of time. He could have hardened his heart, avoided seeing her. Ah, Sheesh. What a load of crap. Everyone had warned him she was a vampire. She'd even tried to push him away, but he had refused to listen. This wasn't her fault. He had stubbornly ignored all the clues because his heart was already lost. Now, he had no choice but to face reality.
He was in love with a vampire.
Darcy closed the door to the pool house and leaned against it, trembling. She struggled to breathe. Her knees wobbled, and she slid down the door to sit on the green all-weather carpet.
He'd hurt her. She must have actually fallen for him and his fast talk. Telling women what they wanted to hear. The bastard.
She'd been so pathetically easy. She'd been so cold, so lonesome, so miserable for the last four years that she'd latched on to the first man who had offered her warmth and love. Tears spilled over, and she brushed them away with growing anger. How dare he turn a one-eighty on her? Wasn't it just last night he had said any man would be stupid to let her go? Well, by his own standards, Adam was stupid. Good riddance.
She stood on shaky legs. She needed to get back to the show. It was her job, and she couldn't afford to lose it. But damn, her heart was under attack by a double-edged sword. How could she see him again, and how could she stand not to see him? He'd made her so-called life bearable again. For the last four years, she'd been forced to dwell in darkness. Only three slender rays of light - Gregori, Maggie, and Vanda - had kept her sane. Then, Adam had burst into her dark existence like a brilliant sun. He'd been the sun god, promising her warmth and life.
But it had only been a false echo that taunted her. She could never experience life again. She could never be with Adam. She'd known it all along. But still, she'd fallen for him. She'd wanted to believe that love could conquer all, that love was as sacred as Vanda claimed. Tears rolled down Darcy's face. She couldn't handle seeing him again so soon, so she went down the west end stairwell to the servants' floor.
The ladies were in the parlor, chatting. Lady Pamela was sipping hot Chocolood from a tea cup. On the TV, Darcy could see Gregori and the contestants in the billiard room. The cameramen were there, recording the men as they talked about the show.
"Are you all right?" Vanda watched Darcy with narrowed eyes.
"I'm fine," she lied, hoping it wasn't noticeable that she'd been crying. There was no way to check her appearance in a mirror, one of the minor drawbacks to being a vampire. Major drawbacks included losing her family, her savings, and her career in journalism. Hell, she'd lost her entire life because of this stupid, secret world. If Connor hadn't been so concerned about keeping their damned secret, he could have teleported her to a hospital instead of Roman Draganesti's house. She might have lived. But now, she would never know. It was too late.
"Are you ready to finish the obstacle course?" she asked Lady Pamela. "There are still three men who need to be tested."
"Must I?" Lady Pamela made a face. "I'm so dreadfully tired. And besides, I already know which men must be eliminated."
"So do we," Cora Lee piped in. "We have to get rid of that buffoon that dropped Lady Pamela in the mud."
The ladies all murmured in agreement.
"And we must be rid of the Moor," Maria Consuela announced.
"You mean Ahmed?" Lady Pamela asked. "He was perfectly well-mannered. And his speech was flawless."
"Not to mention he's very handsome," Vanda added.
"Indeed." Lady Pamela set down her tea cup. "The second man to go must be Antonio of Madrid. He had the most dreadful lisp."
"Of course he does!" Maria Consuela exclaimed. "He speaks perfect Castilian Spanish."
"Well, it sounds rather silly in English," Lady Pamela insisted. "The man told me I thmelled like a thweet red rothe."
Princess Joanna shuddered. "God forbid we should have a master who speaks like that."
Maria Consuela huffed. "Then when do I have a say in who is removed from the contest?"
"You'll get your turn," Darcy assured the Spanish vampire. "I have you down for judging qualifier number nine - strength." With a small jolt of surprise, Darcy realized that the same women who had felt uncomfortable making a decision the night before were now eager to have their say.