Mortal Wish by Tina Folsom Page B

you came for the same thing?”
    Jake sighed. He’d been here for less than half an hour and already two people had managed to ask him the same question. But being the intensely private man he was, he had no intention of getting dragged into a conversation about his very personal desires. Desires he could share with nobody.
    “I hear fishing is good out here.”
    A disappointed frown spread over Mrs. Adams’ face as she straightened. “Yes, yes, it is.”
    “Top floor, you said?” He pointed toward the stairs and picked up his bag, not waiting for her answer.
    “Number twenty-one. Turn left at the top of the stairs.”
    The stairs creaked as he walked up the first flight. Runners covered the worn floors on the landing. Jake let his eyes wander over the old paintings on the walls and the antique sideboard that adorned the second floor hallway. His eyes lingered on the fine workmanship for a moment longer, then he already continued around the banister.
    He ran into something soft. His head jerked around, and his hand released the grip on his bag in the same moment that he instinctively reached for the person he’d run into. His eyes perceived a woman, her arms flailing, releasing the handbag she carried. As its contents spilled onto the floor, Jake caught the woman, preventing her from falling.
    “Ooops!” he called out. “Gotcha!”
    “Uhh!”
    She breathed heavily, and his superior senses picked up her elevated heartbeat.
    “I’m so sorry, I didn’t look,” he apologized.
    “That’s quite all right,” she answered breathlessly. “It’s my own fault. I was running around the corner without looking.” She eased from his grip and stepped back.
    Jake’s eyes fell on her face. Her eyes were just as blue as his, and her long hair was of a rich auburn shade. Her skin was flawless, but pale, almost like porcelain, and it made her lips look as red as fresh blood. Hunger surged within him instantly, despite the fact that he was sated. He pushed it back. Instead he looked to the items that had fallen to the floor and bent down.
    “Let me help you with this,” he offered and handed her the handbag.
    She took it and crouched down opposite him, quickly picking up some of the fallen items: a lipstick, keys, a small notepad.
    Jake handed her a handkerchief and a pen, then searched the rug for anything else that might have fallen out, but found nothing.
    “I think I’ve got everything,” she said and rose.
    He got up from his hunched position and offered his hand in greeting. “I’m Jake, by the way.”
    She hesitated, before she shook his hand very briefly. “Claire.” Then she motioned to the stairs. “I’ve gotta go.”
    He watched as she hurried down the stairs. Her footsteps echoed in the foyer as she rushed out the entrance door. Only when it fell shut with a loud thud did he pick up his own bag and proceed to his room.

2
     
    After a refreshing shower, Jake left his room. It was time to do what he’d come here for. No need to drag out the inevitable. He walked down the first flight of stairs, reaching the spot where he’d run into the very enticing Claire. For a moment, he stopped there. She’d stirred something in him, awakening a sense of wanting to protect her, even though he’d never felt that way toward a human. He’d always been the predator, taking what he wanted, not caring whom he hurt. But it was all different now.
    He was done being the monster they feared. He was done with this life. Too many kills lay in his past, too many bad deeds lined his path. The senselessness of it all had come full circle. His life had no meaning; he understood that now after having lived as a vampire for one-hundred-twelve years, after having been turned at the age of thirty-five.
    He couldn’t do it any longer: he couldn’t hurt people any longer. Because he’d developed a conscience. A fucking conscience!
    He stared at his shoes and cursed silently. Who’d ever heard of a vampire with scruples? But no,