Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body by Michele Bardsley Page B

indulgence, and she laughed.
    “Carb heaven,” she said, sighing contentedly. “And it’ll never glue itself to my thighs.” She ate some of the cheesecake, closing her eyes as she savored the bite. Then she pointed the fork in the direction of the kids. “You thinkin’ about enrolling Glory in school?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. I watched Glory tag Jenny, who was Jessica’s daughter, and giggle as she turned and ran. Flet bounced along with her, his golden light never far from her. My baby seemed so happy. “She’s still not talking. This is the first time I’ve seen her even want to be around other people.”
    Eva nodded. “Our classroom is small, and even though we do a lot of typical coursework, I’m very informal. I think Glory would find it fun. Maybe, if she’s around other children, she’ll decide she wants to talk.”
    I wondered what she’d say. I wondered if all our secrets would spill from her lips, a purging of what had come before, of what had been done to her. Of what I had done to her father. My stomach clenched. I couldn’t be afraid anymore. Jacob was dead. Technically, so was I. Glory deserved a life with security and love and friendship—even if that meant facing my past head-on.
    “I’ll talk to her to about it,” I finally offered. “And if she wants to give it a try, I’ll call you.”
    “Excellent.” Eva looked down at her plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a piece of German chocolate cake with my name on it.”
    I smiled. Across the yard, I saw Brady talking to one of the lycanthrope triplets. Considering the serious expression of the one manning the grill, he was certainly Damian. I had to assume Brady was chatting with either Darrius or Drake. He seemed to sense I was watching. He glanced up, his gaze on mine, sharing a look with me that I’d seen lovers like Jessica and Patrick share. It made me all warm inside (oh, baby), but I couldn’t forget what had happened on the porch. I’d overstepped my bounds, but Brady had scared me. I couldn’t let that go. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t know about Jacob. He couldn’t begin to follow rules that he didn’t know existed. But that was how I felt. It was probably best, then, that we keep our distance.
    Brady clapped the lycanthrope on the shoulder and headed in my direction. Shit. I looked around for something to do, someone to talk to, and saw Elizabeth Bretton peering over one of the tables laden with our impromptu feast.
    Elizabeth kept to herself even more than I did, though she was always very nice whenever she made an appearance. She was a handsome woman, in her early forties, which was the result of vigorous self-care, good genes, and, as she once told us, “a marvelous plastic surgeon.” Vampirism had made her beauty permanent—no need for any more surgical enhancements. She had shiny auburn hair cut short and designed to frame her lovely face. Her eyes were brown, and reminded me, oddly enough, of just-baked brownies—warm, inviting, and sweet. Elizabeth was the last remaining Silverstone, though she’d never tried to claim the mansion or property that rightly belonged to her family. Rumor had it that her estranged husband and daughter were in Europe. Elizabeth lived in a modest cottage inside the compound and had become Zela’s (yeah, that Zela) assistant. She probably had better vampire training than all of us.
    I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Brady had reversed directions and now weaved through the crowd of women hovering around the dessert table. You’d think there was a shoe sale over there.
    I hurried over to Elizabeth. “Hey, there! How you doin’?”
    Elizabeth looked up. “Just fine, dear. Oh, my. You’re getting a little fangy. Haven’t you eaten?”
    “My donor never showed up.”
    Elizabeth ’s eyes flashed concern. “You know, I haven’t seen Darlene or her daughter, either. Seems like everyone is here except those two.”
    And Rick. Anxiety rippled. Why