“Yes.”
“And you’re French.”
“Yes. I am Lucien Fontaine.”
“You don’t have an accent.”
“My parents left France shortly after my birth. They traveled around Europe for a while before settling in Germany. I stayed there until their deaths, and then I came to the New World, where I met Ronan. I’ve been here for almost three hundred years.”
Callie’s eyebrows rose as he casually said the term “New World” like she said coffee break. Who still considered the United States the New World? A three hundred and twenty-year-old vampire, she reminded herself.
She suppressed a hysterical trill of laughter as she realized she was sitting beside an ancient who’d seen so much of this world.
“Who’s Ronan?” she asked.
“He and Nathan are the leaders of the Alliance. Ronan is the one who found me and turned my anger at the world into something useful.”
Ronan had directed his hatred of everyone and everything toward the Savages, but Lucien decided to omit that. She was nervous enough around him without him telling her how badly he craved killing and maiming everything that crossed his path.
The only reason he’d managed to refrain from becoming a Savage before Ronan encountered him was that he’d vowed never to become like Yannis. He’d been walking a thin, fraying line by the time Ronan entered his life.
“I’ve worked with Ronan for two hundred years. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
“What about Nathan? How long have you worked with him?”
He briefly told her about the hunters and vampires joining together. He kept the details scarce to protect the others, but he told her enough for her to understand more about the way his world worked and himself.
“Why were you so angry at the world when Ronan found you?” she asked when he finished.
“Why not? By then, I’d lost my family, and I was starting to lose myself. I had no one.”
Without thinking, she rested her hand over his on top of her knee. She knew what it was like to be alone in the world except for her friends. “I lost my family too. My mom died when I was six, and my dad passed away four years ago.”
“Losing your mom at six had to be difficult.”
“Not really. She was never a constant in my life, so I didn’t really know or rely on her.”
Still, even after all these years, there were times when she pondered what might have been. But that was useless, and she tried not to get lost in the sea of melancholy such ponderings could drown her in.
“When she got pregnant with me, both my parents were pretty hardcore partiers. However, they cleaned up their acts when she got the news. My dad managed to stay sober, but she never could. My dad’s death tore my heart out. One day he was fine, and the next he was in the ICU on a ventilator.”
“What happened?”
“Massive stroke. He never woke up again.”
Callie pulled her hand from his to wipe away the tears sliding down her face. It had been four years, but the pang of his loss remained as intense as the day he died. It was no longer the constant, unrelenting grief that caused her to wake crying, but it was an ever-present thing.
One minute, she would be doing the most mundane task. Then, some memory would rise or something would remind her of him, or she would catch a whiff of his cologne, and she would find herself standing at the kitchen sink sobbing while she washed the dishes.
She’d accepted that she would never be the same again.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked.
He hesitated as he pondered how to reply. What happened to her was sad, but what happened to his family was disgusting and vicious. However, she’d opened up about herself, and if he was going to earn her trust, he would have to do the same.
“My brother became a Savage and killed them and”—Lucien pushed aside the memories and unexpected sorrow swelling within him—“and my little sister.”
CHAPTER 15
Callie’s hand flew to her mouth. “That’s horrible! How old were you?”
“I was thirty-five; he was thirty-three. The weak, pitiful coward barely fought against becoming a Savage after he reached maturity.”
Callie tried not to let her fear get the best of her as his increased hostility vibrated against her skin. She’d only been around one other man who was ever this mad, and it had not ended well for her. There was nowhere for her to run, and he’d catch her before she made it ten feet.
He’s not mad at you. Still, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t control the anxiety building in her chest or the cold sweat breaking out on her body. Stop being afraid! She shouted the command at herself, but she wished it was so simple.
She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking. “What do you mean by reached maturity?”
“I’m a purebred vampire, and so is he, which means I was born this way. Most vamps are turned into a vampire by another vampire. Both my parents were vampires. Being a purebred means I’m stronger than a turned vamp, but when a purebred vampire reaches maturity and stops aging, it is more difficult for us to restrain ourselves from killing. We have… darker needs than a turned vamp.”
Something about the way he said needs sent another shiver down her spine at the same time as it caused more butterflies to erupt in her stomach. You’re losing your mind.
Unfortunately, she thought this was true.
“Such as?” she prompted.
“Such as some, like me, need to kill and unleash violence to maintain control.”
He felt her recoil from him a little, but he didn’t temper his words. She’d asked, and he found himself telling her the truth in a way he never had with any other before. It was wrong, he was revealing too much information, but she’d never use it against him or any of the others.
Even if she fell into the hands of the Savages again—something he was never going to let happen—her knowledge couldn’t cause them any damage. And she could never reveal any of this to the human world and not expected to be treated like she was insane.
“But you said you don’t kill innocents,” she whispered.
“I don’t. I maintain control by hunting and killing Savages.” In brutal, satisfying ways, but he kept that to himself. “Many purebred vampires fight their more volatile instincts, but others are weak and turn Savage.”
“I see,” she murmured. “And your brother didn’t fight his instincts.”
“Not for very long, and barely at all. Yannis was always weak, but I never expected that from him. My parents didn’t love us, but they were our parents. I was never quite sure why they had children. They weren’t in love with each other, and they didn’t enjoy having children, that much was obvious, but they reproduced three times. However, I don’t think they knew the insidious desires male, purebred children harbored; otherwise, they probably would have killed Yannis and me at birth.”
“That’s horrible!” Callie cried.
Lucien shrugged. “They were not loving.” It was a giant understatement, but he wasn’t going to go into more detail about it now.
“Is it only males who experience these urges?” she asked.
“Most often, though, the females can have trouble too.”
“What happened after your brother killed your family?” she asked.
Lucien stared into the dark as he recalled the horrible moment when he returned home to discover Yannis’s carnage. “He slaughtered my parents while they slept. I discovered them in bed, but Coralie must have woke during the attack and tried to flee. I found her near the front door.”
She didn’t know if he was aware of it, but his voice had become deeper and rougher as he spoke about his sister. Grief clouded his words. It hadn’t been there when he talked about his parents or brother, but it was there about his sister.
Lucien closed his eyes as fresh sadness swelled in his chest. It was as if he were kneeling at Coralie’s side again and brushing back her hair to reveal her pale, beautiful
face. The blood pooling beneath her still body formed a puddle.
“Coralie was beautiful and sweet and so loving,” he murmured.
She was the only one, until Ronan found him and he became a Defender, who ever gave a shit about him. Her laugh was contagious, her smile lit up a room, and her beautiful violet eyes always twinkled. She devoured every form of knowledge she could get her hands on and would talk for hours about the things she read.
She’d loved him, and he loved her. When they were young, they would often spend their days sitting under the willow tree and discussing Shakespeare or Galileo’s theories. One day, she was going to be a scientist, the next a doctor, and the next a playwright. There wasn’t anything she didn’t dream of becoming.
He always saw her as growing up to fulfill all those dreams; he never once envisioned her dying before she ever fully got the chance to live. Yet, that’s precisely what happened.
Back then, she was what kept him from going over the edge; he would not disappoint her by becoming a monster. After her death, his determination to kill everything like Yannis fueled him.
“I was kneeling at her side when he ambushed me,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
So was he. He was sorry he wasn’t there to protect her when she required it most, sorry he’d been too wrapped up in himself to see what Yannis was becoming, and sorry he hadn’t been strong enough to destroy Yannis back then.
“What happened after that?” she asked.
“We fought until we almost killed each other. When Yannis fled the house, I sat in the doorway, covered in blood, his and mine, as I watched him run into the day with smoke streaming from him. I’d hoped he died.”
After he battled Yannis, he crawled back to her side and drew her into his arms. Holding her broken, cooling body in his arms was the only time he’d wept in his life.
“But he didn’t die?”
“No, he didn’t,” he grated the words out from between his gritted teeth. “I saw him in the tunnel yesterday. He emerged after we made it outside and smiled at me before ducking inside again. He’s alive, and I’m going to kill him.”
The hair on Callie’s nape rose as he growled the words. She didn’t know Yannis, but she suddenly felt very sorry for him. She had a feeling once Lucien set his mind on something, he achieved it, and if the lethal tone of his voice were any indication, Yannis’s death would not be an easy one.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said.
Determined to steer the conversation back to a better place, Lucien asked, “What about you, Callie? Where are you from? What’s your full name? What about your family?”
After everything he revealed, she saw no reason not to tell him more about herself. Besides, she could never return to her old life.
“Calista Ballis. My father was Greek, and his parents moved to New York before he was born. My mom was a mixing pot of nationalities. I grew up in upstate New York near the original Woodstock site.”
“Some of my brothers went to Woodstock.”
“But not you?”
Lucien chuckled. “Concerts and a lot of people aren’t my thing.”
“I went to a lot of concerts there over the years. Many of them I listened to from the woods with my friends; we always had a lot of fun. And then, after I got my degree, I moved to New Jersey and found work with a vet. I led a rather boring life, but I liked it that way.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
Why did he suddenly want to slaughter a man he didn’t know and who might not exist? She tensed beneath his touch, and when she spoke again, an edge of steel had entered her voice.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Something about the way she said it and the way she reacted to his question made him question if there was more to the story, but he didn’t ask any more about it. They’d already discussed enough depressing things tonight, and he didn’t want to know if he had competition for her.
Competition? The word baffled him. He didn’t compete for women. They either wanted him or they didn’t, but he wasn’t about to jump through hoops to get them. However, he found himself wanting to be the only man in her life, and he had no idea why.
“I’m going to rest again,” Callie murmured.
Before Lucien could reply, she pulled away from him; he listened as she moved about the mattress before settling onto it again. He longed to curl up beside her and hold her once more, but he stared into the darkness as he tried to sort out his strange feelings for this woman.
But though he’d fed and rested, he still wasn’t up to full strength, and his thoughts, when it came to her, were muddled. When he had some sleep and was more nourished, he’d be able to think better, and he might not have any interest in her.
Callie placed her hands under her head. She wasn’t tired; she just preferred not to talk anymore. She especially didn’t want to talk about Carter. That nightmarish chapter of her life was over.
She lay awake for a long time, part of her wishing Lucien would lie beside her again, and the other part wishing he would go away. She wasn’t sure how much time passed before he lay down beside her and draped his arm around her.
Though she tried to resist, her body betrayed her by relaxing into him. Her nose wrinkled at his scent, but she’d grown accustomed to it, and she felt better the second he touched her.
Closing her eyes, Callie fell asleep.
CHAPTER 16
When the sun was high in the sky, Lucien lifted the door of the storage unit and ushered Callie out. She stood in the sunshine, blinking against its dazzling radiance and waiting until her eyes adjusted so she could see again.
“I need you to stay here,” Lucien said.
“Where are you going?”
“If the guard changed during the night, I have to get to them before they see us on camera and call the police. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could reply, he was gone in a blur of motion. Her hand went to her heart as she took a step back and gawked at the place where she last saw him. He was definitely doing a lot better than yesterday.
Shaking off her amazement over his speed, Callie returned to the storage unit and peered into the clear boxes labeled bedroom. When she spotted some clothing inside, she pulled down a couple of the boxes until reaching the ones she sought. She removed the lid and sifted through the clothes inside. She’d hoped to find something to wear, but it was all children’s clothes.
She put the lid back on the box and turned to examine the rest of them, but it was all sheets and blankets. She returned the boxed and retreated to the open doorway again.
She arrived there as Lucien returned. “Is everything okay?” she inquired.
“Yes. It was the same guard as last night. Apparently, he’s already left and come back, but his shift ends again soon.”
Callie nodded before gesturing to the unit behind her. “There’s nothing we can use for clothes.”
“We’ll go through some of the other units.”
“The poor guard is going to lose his job if we keep breaking into them.”
Lucien tilted his head to study her. “We’re running for our lives, and you’re concerned about his job?”
“Yes,” Callie replied more defensively than she intended. “He probably depends on this income to survive. Without it, he could lose his home or starve.”
Without thinking, Lucien ran his fingers down her cheek. Her eyes widened, but he couldn’t stop himself from touching her as he caressed the striking contours of her face before gripping her nape. He knew many kindhearted women, but for some reason, her kindness struck him as good instead of annoying.
“He won’t lose his job,” he assured her.
“You can’t know that.”
“No, I can’t, but I’m going to make sure you survive.”
Callie blinked at his words and the fervent tone accompanying them that made her almost believe they would make it through this. A part of her did believe it, b
ut the other part kept waiting for those monsters to show up, drag them back to that place, and destroy them.
She clasped the hand causing butterflies to erupt in her belly and pressed it against her cheek. “We’re going to survive.”
And then, realizing she was holding the hand of a vampire, she released it. He’d hurt her, but she was beginning to realize she liked Lucien.
Maybe she was going insane, or maybe she was an idiot, but she trusted him and had a lot of faith in him. She believed he would do everything he could to get them out of here; she hoped it would be enough. There was a small army of those things, and it was only the two of them.
“Did you call your friends?” she asked.
“No.” He wasn’t going to stay away from her any longer than necessary, even if it was for a five-minute phone call. “I’ll call them before we leave.”
“Did you ask the guard where we are?”
“Camden.”
“I’ve never been here before,” she murmured like it mattered.
“Neither have I, and I don’t plan to stay much longer. Come on, let’s see if we can find some clothes.”
They searched through five more units before uncovering clothes that would work for both of them and sneakers that fit him. Then they trudged to the bathroom.
He waited while she used it first. When she emerged, her black hair was wet as it dangled over her shoulder, and her face was pink from scrubbing it. Her formfitting, red T-shirt hugged her curves, but she’d rolled up the bottom of the jeans to keep them from dragging on the ground.
She looked young and innocent when she lifted her face, closed her eyes, and smiled as the sun’s rays spilled over her face. She was enchanting. Desire bloomed in him, and he shifted uncomfortably when his cock stirred.
Now was not the time for such things, but his lust continued to rise as he took in her beauty. He longed to touch her again, but he restrained himself from stroking her cheek once more. He clearly recalled her silken skin beneath his hands, and he was afraid that if he touched her again, he wouldn’t stop.
She took a deep breath before opening her eyes. Her striking eyes met his before she glanced nervously away.
Bound by Danger (The Alliance, Book 6) Page 9