“It was so like my home when I woke up after I turned,” Odilia said unhappily. “Worse, really. I think I would have gone mad if Scotty hadn’t come in when he did and ushered me out. He put me right into a carriage and sent me back to his house, promising he’d return as soon as he could.”
Odilia’s face twitched and she admitted, “Everything is kind of a blur after that until he came home. I remember getting to the house and going in, but everything felt . . . separate from me somehow . . . and I was suddenly so exhausted. The housekeeper tried to convince me to go to bed, but I wanted to wait for Scotty. I wanted to hear what happened. I needed to. I felt like . . . I was desperate to hear it, so she brought me a cinnamon bun and let me be. I was not hungry—I was still feeling unconnected—so just sat there, not doing anything or even thinking really, until Scotty got home and came to find me.
“He told me what had happened, but kept sniffing the air as he did,” Odilia said with remembered amusement. “And then he finally asked what that cinnamon scent was and I said it was the bun the housekeeper had left out, but I did not want it. He picked it up, gave it a sniff and then took a bite, and seemed quite surprised that it was good. He just gobbled it up.”
Beth didn’t comment. She wasn’t surprised. It made sense. She and Scotty had met earlier in the evening. They were life mates. His hungers would have been reawakened by that meeting. All of his hungers.
“I was shocked and just stared at him,” Odilia continued. “I knew how old he was and that he didn’t eat anymore. Yet he was eating. When I pointed it out to him, he kind of froze, and just sat there for a minute, and then he turned and stared at me for the longest time. I was about to ask him if he was all right when the butler came to inform him that Magnus had arrived.
“Scotty excused himself and left to speak to Magnus, but he hadn’t quite pulled the door closed, and I heard them out in the hall by the front door. Magnus had come to inform him that a couple of the younger hunters had told him they’d been able to read Scotty’s thoughts after the raid on the charnel house. He wanted to know why Scotty hadn’t told him that he’d met his life mate. Scotty said he hadn’t realized it until just now himself. That he’d come home and eaten a bun, and when he realized what he was doing, had tried to read me and could not.”
Beth stiffened. “What?”
“He could not read me,” Odilia said slowly and clearly as if speaking to someone hard of hearing. She followed it up with a triumphant smile.
“But—” Beth shook her head with bewilderment. That couldn’t be. He was her life mate, not Odilia’s. How could he not read her either? The only time you couldn’t read another immortal was if they were older, insane, or your life ma—
Oh, she thought suddenly. Beth had already deduced that the woman was off her rocker. She should have realized this wasn’t a new status. But why hadn’t Scotty known that back then? He’d . . . not raised the girl, she realized. Had seen her only a handful of times. Mrs. McCurdy had raised her and apparently never bothered to mention to her employer that the girl he’d put in her charge was a nutter. Great. But why hadn’t he sorted out since then that the woman was insane?
“Magnus, of course, congratulated him,” Odilia continued, drawing Beth’s attention back to her story. “And told him he’d leave us be to enjoy our discovery of each other, and then he departed. I rushed out into the hall the moment he was gone and hurried to Scotty, and he took me in his arms and kissed me so sweetly.”
Beth’s eyebrows rose. She would not describe any of her own kisses with Scotty as sweet. Hot, passionate, hungry, devouring, frenzied, consuming, vigorous, even almost violent, yes. But sweet? Nope. Poor thing, she thought, eyeing Odilia with pity. The woman had no idea what she was missing.
“And then he swept me up in his arms, carried me to my room, and made gentle, tender love to me,” Odilia said on a sigh.
“Sounds like a bad romance novel,” Beth said dryly.
“It was beautiful!” Odilia shrieked. “The best night of my life.”
“Lame life, then,” she said with a shrug.
Odilia’s face was purple, her eyes narrowed to slits, and Beth truly thought she’d pushed her too far. But then the woman suddenly relaxed and even gave a snort of laughter. “You are jealous.”
Beth didn’t deny that. Why bother? It was probably true. Oh, not of the night Odilia had just described. That might be a nice change in maybe five or six hundred years, but she preferred the passionate lover Scotty was with her. She was jealous that he’d slept with Odilia at all, though, which was silly. She’d had lovers over the last hundred years. Okay, so in her mind they’d unknowingly had his face in her bed, but still . . .
“It was so lovely,” Odilia remembered softly. “And I was so happy. I worshiped Scotty. He was so handsome, so smart, so kind, and he’d taken care of me. He was wonderful, gentle, and caring. I had never had a lover who made me feel the way he did. For three months, every day was a sweet revelation.”
Three months? Beth closed her eyes and hung her head. Man, had she gotten it wrong. What a mess. And what had Scotty been thinking?
“He was thinking I was his life mate,” Odilia said with pleasure.
“But he wasn’t, was he?” she said sharply.
“He should have been!” Odilia shrieked with frustration. “Look at you. You are nothing but a whore, and a common whore at that, while he is a laird! You are not good enough for him. I am a lady! My father was a baron. I have money. I was raised properly, and I would never sell myself for a couple of coins.”
“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Beth agreed. “But apparently you’ll blow people up, cut them into pieces with wire traps and—Oh my God, you were willing to blow up Rickart and Magnus,” she said suddenly.
Odilia shrugged her shoulders. “Collateral damage.”
“But they’re friends of Scotty’s,” she pointed out with disbelief. “And yours. You work with them.”
“Collateral damage,” she said again.
“Oh, wow,” Beth said with disgust. “You’re a complete and utter sociopath.”
Odilia raised one eyebrow. “Really? You are going to say something like that to the woman who is going to kill you?”
Beth considered the question and then shrugged. “You can only kill me once. It’s not like you can kill me for every insult I give you.”
“No. But I can make it extremely painful and last a really long time to pay you back for every word you say that I do not like,” she pointed out.
“Somehow I don’t think you have the time,” Beth said with certainty. “We won’t be alone out here long enough for that.”