Amara picked Parker up and slung him over her shoulder, careful to keep his head from bouncing on the ground. He was a foot taller than her, and she didn’t want to accidentally damage him. “I’m taking him home. You be good. We’ll talk when I get back.”

She carted him through the gate and back to his house. “If he can go in without an invitation, then so can I.” She opened his front door, only to shut it again so quickly she feared she’d permanently bruised his right butt cheek. “Or not.” She blinked, trying to erase the sight of a naked Brian bent over the arm of Parker’s leather couch. “I do not want to know.”

She sighed and shifted Parker. He wasn’t all that heavy, but his limp body was terribly awkward. “Guess you’re sleeping at my house tonight. Where do vampires sleep anyway? Do you need a coffin? A pile of dirt? Blackout curtains?” She hoisted him through the door, almost knocking over her antique umbrella stand with his head. She’d better call Dragos. The elder vampire would know what to do.

She carted Parker to her room, hoping her scent would soothe him if he woke up, then headed back downstairs and picked up the phone. She didn’t bother to dial. She didn’t have to. “Dragomir Ibanescu.”

The click of the phone being answered was faint. “Yes, Amara?”

“I have a vegetarian vampire in my bed who’s had a conversation with my tree.”

There was a pause. Then again, whenever Amara called Dragos he paused to process whatever she was telling him. It had long ago ceased to bother her, but she did wonder sometimes why her calls were so unusual. After all, she wasn’t the strangest person he knew, not by a long shot. “And?”

“He’s unconscious.”

“Ah. You are worried he is injured?”

Dragos’s faint accent never failed to send a shiver down her spine. Was that why Parker’s accent was so irresistible? Maybe she had a thing for tall, dark, exotic men with lovely accents. “I don’t know how long he’ll be out or how to keep him safe from the sun.”

“And where is his Renfield?”

“Uhhh—” she coughed, “—busy. Very busy.”

Again one of Dragos’s infamous pauses filled the air. “I see.” He was amused. “Make sure the room you put him in gets little sunlight. Unlike the movies, he won’t combust to ash at the merest touch of Helios’s rays, but he will be very uncomfortable if left in direct sunlight.” The amusement turned to gentle teasing when he added, “He is a plant that requires shade. Too much time in the sun will burn him to a crisp.”

She blew the mayor of Maggie’s Grove the wettest raspberry she could.

“You’re welcome.” The connection cut off, but not before Dragos laughed.

Really. People thought the elder vamp was cold and unfeeling. Amara knew better. Dragos was a friend. Hell, her tree liked him, and that was good enough for her.

Amara dialed Parker’s employer. Now, this was a conversation she was not looking forward to.

“The Greenhouse, Miss Ferguson speaking.”

“Mollie? It’s Amara.”

“Oh. Hello, Amara. Is there a problem?” Mollie’s tone instantly chilled.

“I introduced Parker to my tree, and now he’s unconscious. Was he supposed to work tonight?”

“Yes, he was.” The chill turned to concern. “Does he need a doctor?”

Amara held back her sigh. “No. He’s physically uninjured.”

“Does he need the witchdoctor, then?”

She gritted her teeth and kept her tone polite. “My tree wouldn’t hurt him that way.”

“Amara. I’m sorry, but you are what you are. Should you call Selena?”

“No.”

This time the pause was uncomfortable. She’d much rather talk to Dragos any day. “Tell him to call me when he can return to work.” The chill was back.

“I’ll do that.” Amara hung up without any further words. None were needed. That chore taken care of, she ran a circuit of both her garden and Parker’s. “No weeds. Good.” She dusted her hands off and knocked on Parker’s front door, praying Brian and Greg were finished with whatever they’d been doing, because she really didn’t need to see it again.

The front door opened. Brian, disheveled and happy, had a huge red mark on his neck. “How did you get a love bite?”

He blushed almost as fiery red as the leaves of her tree. “Hello to you too. Where’s Parker?”

“My place. I introduced him to my tree.”

Brian winced. “Oh. He’s out, huh?”

She frowned. “Did you expect that?”

“I bet fifty-fifty odds that he’d go down, yeah. Greg owes me—uh. Never mind.” He rubbed at the hickey. “Did your tree like him?”

“Yes, she did.”

He grinned. “Then I expect I’ll see some love bites on your neck soon.”

Amara covered her lip.

“Ooooh. Did he get a taste?” Brian turned his head, looking at something she couldn’t see. His face softened; his smile gentled. “Yeah, Greg. I’ll ask.” He turned back to her. “Can Greg go check on Parker? He’s worried about him.”

“Of course. He’s in my room. Does Greg need help finding him?”

He tilted his head, listening. “Nope. He has some sort of spiritual connection to Parker, so he knows where he is. He’s just being polite.” Brian’s eyes widened. “You didn’t. You did? Holy crap, Greg! No wonder he calls you his Casper!” And he began to laugh, writhing around like he was having fits. “Stop! Please stop! Uncle!”

“Was he tickling you?”

Brian nodded and wiped his eyes. “Yes, he was. He cast a spell so that when he was reborn, he and Parker would always be able find each other. But he forgot a deathbed spell is much stronger than a usual one, and instead of being reborn—”

“He came back as Parker’s Casper.” Amara grinned. “Something you’re reaping the benefits of?”

Brian caressed his hickey once more. “Yeah.” His hips jerked forward, a startled look crossing his face. “Would you mind very much if I came over too?”

“Sure, not a problem.” Amara stepped aside to let Brian, and presumably Greg, out the door and to her house. “I’m getting my exercise tonight and I haven’t left the same fifty yards.”

“Now you know how a gerbil feels. All you need is a wheel and some—No, wait, we have the wood chips.” He pointed toward the mulch in one of the flower beds.

Amara stared up at him, wondering if the stress had finally gotten to him.

Brian shrugged. “What?”

She led him into her house and to her room. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re not?”

She opened the door, happy to see Parker was sleeping peacefully. “Of course I am. That’s why I fit in so well here.”

Brian winced and stroked her arm in apology. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah. I know.” She patted his cheek to let him know his apology was accepted.

The low, inhuman growl that came from the bed startled them both. Amara turned to face a drastically altered Parker. His fangs had dropped; his mouth was lifted in a dangerous snarl. Parker was motionless, his red eyes glued to the man Amara had so innocently touched.

What the hell?

Amara took a step toward Parker and held out her hand. “What’s wrong?”

She was yanked forward so quickly she had no time to react. Parker jerked her beneath him, his clawed hand around her neck. He growled at Brian, but his thumb caressed Amara’s neck just below her pulse.

Was Parker protecting her?

She dug her fingers into his arm. “Parker? It’s all right. Brian’s a friend.” She glanced at Brian and gasped. The Renfield knelt on the floor, with his head back and his eyes closed, baring his neck. He muttered ancient words that soothed Parker. She could feel the tension leaving Parker’s body as the vampire accepted the Renfield’s submissive display.

Or so she thought.

When Parker moved closer, she assumed it was all over, until she saw that his eyes were still glowing red, still focused on the Renfield.

His fangs pierced her neck before she could blink.

Amara’s whole body bowed. White-hot pain shrieked through her, followed so quickly by mind-searing pleasure so intense, she never wanted it to end. Long pulls at her neck pulsed through her, like hands intimately caressing every part of her body. She wrapped her legs around Parker, desperate to get closer, to climb into him the way she did her tree and meld them together until she didn’t know where she ended and he began.