It was the situation of course. Despite having lived for several hundred years, Lucern had failed to come up against anything of the sort. In his experience, people were a bother and never failed to bring chaos with them. Women especially. He'd always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. He couldn't recount how many times he'd found himself stumbling across a woman with troubles and suddenly finding his whole life in turmoil while he fought a battle, a duel, or a war for her. Of course, he always won and saved the day. Still, somehow he never got the woman. In the end, all his efforts and the upheavals in his life left him watching the woman walk away with someone else.
That wasn't the situation here. Kate C. Leever, editor, was not a damsel in distress. In fact, she apparently saw him as the one in distress. She was staying "for his own good." She was saving him, in her mind, and intended to "wake him every hour on the hour should he fall asleep," to save him from his own foolishness in refusing to go to the doctor. She made that announcement the moment they were seated in his living room, then calmly set about removing the tea bags from the pot and pouring tea while he gaped at her.
Lucern didn't need her help. He hadn't really hit his head that hard, and even if he had, his body would have repaired itself quickly. But that wasn't something he could tell the woman. In the end, he simply said, with all the sternness and firmness he could muster, "I do not desire your help, Ms. Leever. I can take care of myself."
She nodded sedately, sipped her tea, then smiled pleasantly and said, "I would take that comment much more seriously were you not presently wearing a pretty but bloodstained flowered tea towel on your head… turban style."
Lucern reached up in alarm, only to feel the tea towel he'd forgotten was wrapped around his head. As he began to unravel it, Kate added, "Don't remove it on my account. It looks rather adorable on you and makes you far less intimidating."
Lucern growled. He ripped the flowered tea towel off.
"What was that?" his editor asked, eyes wide. "You growled."
"I did not."
"You did so." She was grinning widely, looking very pleased. "Oh, you men are so cute."
Lucern knew then that the battle was lost. There would be no argument that would make her leave.
Perhaps mind control…
It was a skill he tried to avoid using as a rule, and hadn't exercised in some time. It wasn't usually necessary, since the family had switched to utilizing a blood bank for feeding rather than hunting. But this occasion clearly called for it.
As he watched Kate sip her tea, he tried to get into her thoughts so that he might take control of them. He was beyond shocked to find only a blank wall. Kate C. Leever's mind was as inaccessible to him as if a door had been closed and locked. Still, he continued to try for several moments, his lack of success more alarming than he would have expected.
He didn't give up until she broke the silence by bringing up her reason for being there: "Perhaps we could now discuss the book-signing tour."
Lucern reacted as if she'd poked him with a hot iron. Giving up on controlling her mind and making her leave, he leapt to his feet. "There are three guest rooms. They're upstairs, all three on the left. My room and office are on the right. Stay out of them. Take whichever of the guest rooms you want."
Then he retreated from the battlefield with all haste, rushing back to the kitchen.
He could put up with her for one night, he told himself. Once the night was over and she was reassured that he was fine, she would leave. He would see to that.
Trying not to recall that he'd been just as determined and certain about expelling her after she finished her tea, Lucern snatched a glass and his last bag of blood from the fridge. Then he moved to the sink to pour himself some dinner. He could probably get a quick cup while Ms. Kate C. Leever was occupied in choosing a room.
He'd thought wrong. Lucern had just started to pour the blood from its bag to the glass when the kitchen door opened behind him.
"Do you have any all-night grocery stores in town?"
Dropping the glass and bag, Lucern whirled to face her, wincing as the glass smashed in the sink.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I…" She paused when he held up a hand to halt her forward progress.
"Just…" he began, then finished wearily; "What did you ask?"
He couldn't really listen to her answer. The sweet, tinny scent of blood seemed rich in the air, though he doubted Kate could smell it from where she was across the room. It was distracting, and even more distracting was the rushing sound of it all running out of the bag and down the sink. His dinner. His last bag.
His mind was screaming NO! His body was cramping in protest. That being the case, Kate C. Leever's words sounded like "Blah blah blah" as she moved toward his empty refrigerator and peered inside. Lucern didn't bother to stop her this time. Apart from the blood from earlier, it was completely empty. However, he did try to concentrate on what she was saying, hoping that the sooner he dealt with her question, the sooner he could save his dinner. Try as he might, however, he was really only catching a word here and there.
"Blah blah blah… haven't eaten since breakfast. Blah blah blah… really don't have anything here. Blah blah blah… shopping?"