Tied With a Bow

cheek, trying to focus her concentration away from anything erotic.
    “So,” he said, wiping the blade on his pant leg. “I don’t know who I am, but I think I know what I am. I must be a soldier.”
    “I think you’re more than a soldier. Pull your lips back. Show me your teeth.”
    “Why?”
    “I want to see if you’re a ventala.”
    “Ventala,” he said. “What’s that?”
    She blinked. “Ventala. Part human. Part vampire.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “You know, vampires bred with humans to try to save themselves from extermination.”
    He stared at her blankly.
    “After the mutation. The bat plague? The Vampire Rising?”
    “Before my time, I suppose,” he said.
    “It’s before a lot of people’s times. It happened in the 1950s. But everyone knows about it. Everyone. All over the world. Surely, you must remember something! Even people with amnesia know some basic things about the planet.”
    He shrugged. “Apparently, not always.”
    Who the hell was he that he didn’t know about the vampire extermination? “What were you doing after you killed those ventala? You knelt and lowered your head like you were—”
    “I was offering thanks.”
    “To God?”
    “Of course, who else? I was grateful for my victory. It seemed right to say so.”
    “That definitely doesn’t seem ventala-like, but just to be sure, show me your teeth.”
    He retracted his lips. All his teeth were perfectly normal, not a fang among them. Relief flooded through her with confusion on its heels.
    “Then what are you?” she murmured. “Human beings don’t move the way you do. And why were those ventala lying in wait for you? There’s so much to figure out, and I’m not sure we have a lot of time. Ventala usually sleep during the day, but they came for you despite the sunrise.” She paused. “Come nightfall, they may come out in force.”
    “Journalist, what’s your name?”
    She smiled. “Kate.”
    “Kate,” he repeated as if tasting the word. He nodded. “It’s kind of you to offer me aid. It speaks well of your character, but you’re a young woman. I wouldn’t enlist your help.”
    Was he seriously going to discount her ability to help him because she was female? All the times she’d had to fight the condescension of her older male colleagues came roaring back.
    “Perhaps your father or brothers would—”
    “My father and brother live in Vermont, which is about two thousand miles away, and when it comes to investigating something and connecting the dots, there’s no one better than me.”
    “No one?” he asked. “I suspect you’re overconfident.”
    “You know what?” she said. “You’re right. Why don’t you knock on some doors and find some random men to help you? See how that works out.” She skied past him, and as she emerged from the forest, the houses popped into view.
    “Ah, good. Shelter,” he said, keeping pace with her.
    “Yes, my shelter. My house that I own alone . A concept that may be too much for you to get your caveman head around. Who raised you? The Taliban?”
    His brows rose. “I’m not sure who that is, but you’re obviously angry. I meant no offense, Kate, but for a young woman to be so sure of herself is surprising.”
    “You’re unbelievable.” She popped her skis off and snatched them up.
    He frowned. “Could you have fought those men and survived?”
    “Nope.”
    “Then what is offensive about me suggesting that I’m a dangerous person for you to be around? I have a feeling that—”
    “Save it,” she said, stomping up the deck steps. She propped her skis and poles against the house and took off her boots.
    Walking inside, she slammed the door behind her. By the time she got to the kitchen counter, her heart was pounding. She’d finally met the bronze guy from her dreams, and he turned out to be a clueless sexist. Well, she wasn’t going to try to prove her worth to anyone. She’d already done that many painful times before.
    What a disappointment he was. She’d expected him to be . . . what? More. Definitely more. Maybe even her soul mate. Admitting that to herself made her feel worse.
    She shook her head. How could her subconscious have wasted hundreds of nights on him? Those recurring dreams had made her invest tons of waking hours on the search for his identity.
    Whatever , she thought, yanking off her jacket and throwing it on the couch. She couldn’t change the past, but she could control the present. She just wouldn’t