Chasing Shadows(24)

“Do you think it’s possible that my blood doesn’t precisely qualify as human, because I’m a dhunphyr?” Mark wondered as we headed back toward the barn.

“I suppose it’s possible,” I replied slowly. “I mean, you smell human to me, but at the same time, you feel different to my sixth sense. Not like shifters do and not like vampires do. And it may have been almost two hundred years since I’ve had human blood, but I can tell there’s something different about the way yours tastes. It’s not like I remember it, and another truth about vampires is we never forget.”

“Do you think it’s whatever the draculin did to me, making me the way I am, that makes my blood taste different?”

“That’s possible, too,” I said, turning into the barn and heading for Angus’s stall. “Even your stepmother knew your DNA had been altered when you were born—I guess she could smell it on you, or maybe she just guessed because she could smell that your birth mother had been attacked by a vampire. Because you obviously bear some of the traits of a vampire, like the healing factor. If your Wolverine Syndrome acts for you just like it does for everyone’s favorite X-Man, then you lucked out even better than I did—you have all the benefits of vampirism but none of the weaknesses.”

Mark frowned. “Not all the benefits,” he countered. “My strength and speed indices, though definitely above average because of my military training, are still only within human norms. Same with my hearing, my senses of touch and smell…”

I chuckled. “Okay, I see your point. But that just means that your DNA wasn’t as altered as a full vampire’s is,” I said as we herded the last two cows into the pasture then turned back again to get the four horses.

“So why wasn’t I turned when my mother was attacked?” Mark pressed.

“The placenta is a filter, remember? It blocks a lot of bad things from passing from mother to fetus. In your case and in the case of all dhunphyr, as far as I know, it prevents all but the healing and immortality traits from getting through. You may not have the heightened senses or speed or strength, but you also don’t have a reversed sleep cycle like vampires do and you don’t have the constant thirst for blood,” I told him. “You could always have some tests done if you really want to know.”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, heading over to Herugrim’s stall and helping the horse out into the middle of the barn, then doing the same for Hadhafang. He held their halters and waited for me to have Hasufeld and Brego ready before he headed out again. It wasn’t until we had the four horses secure in their pasture that he spoke again.

Leaning on the fence, he watched them for a moment before he looked at me with a light smile, saying, “Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. I’m curious, sure, but as long as it doesn’t negatively affect our children—when we’re ready to have them, of course.”

I looked down at my hands. I had dreaded this moment, but I was glad he had brought it up because he needed to know…and I didn’t think I’d have been able to broach the subject.

“Mark, there’s a possibility you and I won’t be able to have children,” I said slowly. “Hybrids are so very rare that their having children is unheard of. Because of that, it’s believed that we’re infertile. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

He turned and reached for my hands. “Sweetheart, I admit that I want kids—always have wanted my own little rugrats. And I would very much like to have them with you someday, but if it turns out we’re unable to have kids because one of us is infertile, I can live with that. As long as we are together, nothing else matters.”

Feeling overwhelmed by the strength of his devotion, I could only throw my arms around him and hold him. Once again, I could not fathom how he could care for me so much so soon—perhaps it was another side effect of the pair-bonding. I decided I was not going to question it or try and understand it anymore, because I had learned long ago as I struggled to be a woman of faith that some things just…are, and we’re not meant to understand. We just have to go with it.

Mark and I headed back toward the house. I released Moe and Cissy from their kennel and shooed them inside, where I grabbed the keys to my own truck. After making sure the doors were secure, we headed out to my vehicle so that we could drive to the Tractor Supply Co. and pick up feed for the farm animals.

I was pleased when we arrived some time later to see that my favorite associate, Palmer Meade, was working. The man had to be closing in on 80, but he was as spry and witty as a man in his 30s. He was always very helpful and never without a smile on his face, and he flirted with me a little bit every time he saw me. I thought it was very sweet.

Palmer was surprised to see that I had company, as I’d always come to the store alone. He looked Mark up and down as I introduced the two men to each other, sizing him up. “So, Saphie, this is what yer lookin’ for in a fella,” he said, gesturing at Mark.

I grinned. “He’ll have to do, since you’re so far out of my league,” I told him. I always told Palmer he was too good for me and that he deserved better than I could ever give him. The old man seemed to enjoy that.

“You know I wouldn’t mind going down the ladder a rung or two, if only you’d give me a chance, girl,” Palmer joked, then turned his attention onto Mark. “So, boy, what do you do for a living?”

“Until a year ago I was with United States Marine Corps, sir,” Mark replied. “As of two days ago, however, I’ve been working with Saphrona on her farm.”

Palmer’s face lit up, and he rolled up the sleeve on his right arm to show us a faded tattoo on his bicep. I recognized the Marine Corps symbol. “Semper Fi, my boy. If you’re really a Marine, you might just be alright for my girl here. You treat her good, understand?”

Mark nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir, I surely will,” he said.

The septuagenarian leaned closer to me as he rolled his sleeve back down. “Look at you, fraternizing with the help—you naughty girl. No wonder you got that nice, healthy glow about you.”

I blushed furiously. Palmer and I had never touched on the subject of sex before; this was the first time he had ever even come close to it, and I could hardly believe his poking fun would be so on target. Of course, I knew that while the endorphins my brain had released due to my enjoyment of the sex would have added an energized look to my eyes, the “glow” he spoke of was most likely caused by the infusion of Mark’s blood to my system.

“Come on,” Palmer said then, turning around abruptly. “I assume you’re here for all the usual supplies?”

“Yup. Same old, same old,” I said, glad to have the subject changed. Mark took my hand in his as we followed behind the older man, who grabbed a flat cart from a cart corral as we passed it. He knew what brands I fed my animals by heart, and led us directly to them. Mark would have none of his helping load the cart though, so Palmer held it steady while the two of us lifted the heavy bags.

Palmer walked with us to the checkout, and also out to my truck when we were done. After the feed was loaded into the bed, he took Mark by the arm and led him away a few steps, presumably to have one of those “man-to-man” talks with him. Naturally, I had to listen in—not that I could have helped overhearing anyway.

“Now boy, I meant what I said before,” Palmer said seriously in a low voice. “Saphie’s not just a customer—I consider her a friend of mine. She’s a real nice girl, a fine young lady, and she deserves some happiness. Poor girl’s been lonely a long time. If I was about sixty years younger you’d have some competition, understand, but since I can’t be what she needs… Well, you just take good care of her like I’m tellin’ ya to do, hear?”

Mark placed an assuring hand on Palmer’s shoulder. “I mean to take care of her for the rest of my life, Mr. Meade, I promise you that. Saphrona means the world to me.”

Palmer patted the hand on his shoulder. “Glad to hear it, son, glad to hear it,” he said, then turned and stepped back up to me, giving me a peck on the cheek. “See ya a week from today, darlin.’”

I smiled and kissed his cheek in return. “Sure will, Palmer. You be good.”

“Well, if it weren’t for this tadpole here,” he said, jerking his thumb in Mark’s direction, “you would’ve found out just how good I am. But you gotta settle for him. Have a good day, kids.”

With a grin and a wave, Palmer grabbed hold of the flat cart and headed back into the store. Mark and I climbed into my truck, and he started the engine as he said, “That old man sure is a trip.”

“That he is,” I replied. “’Course, he was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Mark wondered, pulling out of our parking space and starting out of the lot.

“If he was about sixty years younger, you’d have some competition.”