Fallen Hearts

by Angela Colsin

  “No, you're not going anywhere. We're doing this now.”

  At that, she gave him a tug toward the door, and Stephan followed with the question, “Where are we going?”

  “You'll see,” she returned, leading him out of the room and to the exit of the nightclub.

  On the way, Stephan was half curious, half reluctant to learn their destination, asking himself the same question he'd pondered the night he'd revived her—What am I getting myself into? He really had to wonder considering just how strange the situation felt.

  Knowing she'd allow him to make up for his mistakes was exactly what he wanted, but where he'd been irritated at her ability to get his complete attention and make him smile before, now it scared him.

  What the hell did he have to do to make himself ignore her allure? Even if his visit was just some botched attempt to get to know her, she'd never be interested, and thinking otherwise was just foolish.

  Besides, Maddox could have whatever man she wanted. It wasn't a thought he entertained for long as it made him uncomfortably jealous, but he had to wonder what someone like him could ever offer that would remotely compare to her previous engagements.

  Three hundred and eighty years worth of life had probably offered a great deal of them, after all, and with men much more charming—and attractive—than he'd ever be.

  Suddenly, Stephan swiped a hand over his face. This was getting ridiculous. Why the hell am I even thinking about it?

  The question stood out in his mind as Maddox led him down the street outside of Foxy's and turned left at the corner. Just a few doors down, they stopped at a building with the dimmed sign of a barber shop above the entrance. Like most on the street, the business was closed for the evening—but a locked door wouldn't stop a vampire.

  Looking back, Maddox smiled and directed, “Stay put, I'll be right back.”

  Without pause, her body faded into mist and immediately began traveling up to the roof and out of sight.

  Sighing, Stephan waited patiently, and in doing so, his reluctance to go through with this redoubled when he realized that getting a haircut meant removing his eye patch.

  He'd never let anyone see him without it, though he also hadn't given it much thought before. So was it just Maddox's opinion he was concerned with, or was he generally uncomfortable?

  There wasn't much time to ponder the matter before the vampire reappeared on the other side of the door and unlocked it to allow him entry. Even still, she had to reach out and grab his hand to get him moving, muttering, “You're as bad as a toddler.”

  Grumbling, Stephan let her pull him in, then followed her into the back willingly if only because he needed to prove to himself that this didn't bother him. Who gave a damn what she thought about the way he looked? He'd never cared about other people's opinions before, and he wouldn't start now.

  Leading him around a half wall with books and hair care products that blocked the view from the front doors, Maddox flipped on a light switch for the back of the establishment.

  “Don't you think that'll attract attention?” Stephan asked.

  “Don't you need it?”

  “No. Votary, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” she drew out, smiling impishly. “Don't worry, no one's going to know anyway.”

  At that, she led Stephan to a shampoo station, apparently intent on giving him a wash first. Directing him to sit in the chair, she removed her blazer to place on the adjacent seat, then rolled up her sleeves and lowered his chair back so that his neck rested in the dip of the sink—and immediately reached for the strap of his eye patch.

  Without thinking, Stephan quickly grabbed her hand to stop her.

  “What?” she asked curiously.

  “You can't leave it on?”

  “It's in the way.”

  He knew as much, and muttered, “Why the hell do you care if my hair's cut or not, anyway?”

  “It needs it, Stephan. Besides, I don't want anyone thinking I don't associate with the finest of people.”

  Holding her gaze, he inquired seriously, “You have seen my face, haven't you? Not much a haircut's gonna do to help.”

  “You'd be surprised, and what's wrong with your face, exactly? So you have a few scars and an eye patch. Accidents happen, and you're still a strapping young man.”

  He couldn't tell if she was being playful or serious, but the thought made him groan nonetheless. Young man? He was only twenty-two years old, but felt closer to a hundred and two most days, muttering, “People look at me like I'm a thug, Maddox. It's not gonna make a difference.”

  “Yes it will,” she insisted. “Now hush and let me work.”

  At that, she pulled the eye patch off, then took his hand and placed it in his palm. Stephan looked away, deciding not to comment because this was exactly why he'd followed her to begin with—to prove that it didn't matter. Besides, she didn't seem remotely affected by the sight of the skin covering what used to be his right eye, and when he realized it, he remembered why. She's not interested, moron, get over yourself.

  As if there was anything to get over.

  Maddox turned the faucet on during his thoughts, then lifted the hose and began running her fingers through his hair with the water—and it was more soothing and enjoyable than he would've guessed. When was my last haircut anyway? He honestly couldn't recall it, usually only taking as much time as he needed to trim his beard while letting the rest grow at its leisure.

  But he was soon distracted from such thoughts when she leaned over to work a handful of shampoo into his hair. With her face above, his vision locked on her mouth, those full, pouty red lips that looked so damned soft. His gaze then trailed from them and down the slender column of her neck, finally stopping at the partially open collar of her blouse, offering a lovely glimpse of cleavage.

  As soon as his vision locked on her round breasts, he closed his eye, reminding himself that she'd likely notice him looking—but damned if he could get the image out of his head. The curiosity of what it would be like to kiss her, and trail his lips along the same path he'd just followed with his gaze came to mind, and it was jarring enough to nearly make him stand and leave.

  But that wasn't because the notion of kissing a vampire made him uncomfortable.

  It was that he liked the idea far more than he could've said.

  “Since you'll be helping search for Mathias, you should know that I went to King's Forest Cemetery last week, but I didn't find him,” Maddox qualified.

  Grateful for the distraction from his lustful thoughts, Stephan asked, “Any other leads?”

  “Yes, actually. Do you remember Ulric?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “He introduced me to his brother, Dalris, who considers Mathias a good friend, and had some very interesting things to say.”

  “Like what?”

  Suggesting her answer was important, Maddox momentarily stopped washing his hair and leaned on the sink, explaining, “The same night I called Mathias to Virginia, he called Dalris from Las Vegas, stating there was an important issue to discuss. Of course, Dalris never found out what it concerned because of what Lillian did to us, but Mathias did say he was with a mage named Wesley Longfellow, and that the matter he was dealing with needed to be kept private.”

  As she started running her fingers through his hair again, Stephan couldn't help thinking the story seemed strange—and highly coincidental. Ithrim's formula was alchemical, and alchemy was a study that mages specialized in. So hearing that Mathias was with a mage in Las Vegas definitely seemed pertinent, at least, as far as the endeavor of finding a cure went. Maybe this mage is the one who created it.

  “So Dalris conducted his own search,” Maddox continued during his thoughts, “but he didn't get far. Wesley had also disappeared without a trace, and the most concrete information he could find was that Mathias had somehow gotten involved in the destruction of a mortal village in Europe shortly before disappearing, but The Crucible intervened and refused to divulge informati
on over what happened exactly.”

  She was definitely talking about Ithria, and Stephan knew The Crucible would've withheld the truth to prevent a conflict from arising between draconians and vampires. Still, he decided not to mention his knowledge of the incident just then. Knowing of Ithrim wouldn't expedite Maddox's search, and may even put her in danger considering its sensitivity and how many immortals would take issue with it.

  “Was that all of the information Dalris had?”

  “No,” she answered, gently massaging his scalp once more. “But the rest can wait until we're done with this haircut.”

  Stephan decided not to argue, particularly when her fingers were hitting all the right places, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

  “I'm just glad Ulric actually mentioned his brother,” she added, grabbing the hose to rinse his hair.

  “True,“ Stephan drew out, “he didn't seem to like you very much.”

  “With good reason as I understand it, and he didn't let me talk to Dalris without making a demand.”

  “What demand?”

  “He made me vow to keep Charlotte's mortal lineage a secret,” Maddox explained. “If that gets out, it could cause her harm, so don't ever mention her mortal birth to anyone, okay?”

  “Don't worry, I won't. I lost … ,” he trailed, realizing he was about to mention his sister again, and amended, “I just know how it feels.”

  Opening his eye, he saw a frown on Maddox's lips, much like the one she'd given upon first learning of Ellen. It was a look of sorrow and sincere compassion that carried over into her voice when she whispered, “I wish I'd never met Lillian, or that I hadn't been so foolish about our acquaintance. She hurt so many people, and I didn't actually help her bury Mathias, but I called him to Virginia.”

  “You blame yourself for what happened to him?”

  “I had a hand in shaping the events, didn't I?”

  As she rang his hair out and allowed him to sit up, he heard a sniffle and looked over to see her wiping her cheek on her blouse.

  “Hey,” he started, placing a hand against her arm, “you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” she nodded, though her voice lacked conviction, giving him the strongest urge to pull her into his lap and hug her. That kind of pain was incredibly familiar after all, but he doubted she'd invite such an attempt at comfort from him.

  So he resisted the urge—an effort that was nearly undone by the imploring look she suddenly gave him while whispering, “Do you think this is my fault, Stephan?”

  “Not one damned bit,” he returned genuinely. “You told me why you associated with her, and it was a good reason. But she stabbed you and an entire faction of vampires in the back, and you're not culpable for that, are you?”

  Slowly, the corners of Maddox's mouth lifted into a smile. “I guess I just needed to hear someone else say so.”

  Unable to stop himself, Stephan asked curiously, “Even me?”

  “Especially you.”

  The admission was surprising, but perhaps getting reassurance from someone who'd shown such intolerance of vampires before made his statement seem more meaningful. Either way, he didn't point out the hypocrisy his words actually possessed when he still blamed himself for what happened to Ellen, because Maddox was smiling now—and damned if it didn't make him feel good.

  So he'd just take these types of moments as they came, and enjoy them for what they were. Gods only knew how many were actually left, anyway.

  21

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Maddox finally knew the true nature of her blood link to Stephan.

  For the first time in recent memory, she had the strongest urge to kiss a man, and the discovery was distracting to the point of being unable to focus on relaying everything Dalris told her of Wesley Longfellow. Instead, all she wanted to think about was running her fingers through Stephan's hair and kissing him completely senseless—and it was obvious that the votary was just as drawn to her.

  The looks he gave, and even how he'd relaxed as she'd washed his hair, were both telling signs of his attraction. But her favorite was the way his pulse sped up after his gaze had briefly locked on her breasts, proving he enjoyed the view.

  Yet he'd closed his eye, and she couldn't discern whether it was because she was a vampire, or he was simply being respectful. Either way, the thought of his arousal at the sight of her body warmed her blood in ways she hadn't experienced for at least a century, partly due to being entombed, but mostly because of a vampire's typically weakened sex drive.

  Certainly, they could be aroused, but more often than not, this manifested as a desire for blood, and extended no further. So the fact that Stephan had actually awakened her libido was either a wild coincidence, or—and much more likely—their blood link was definitely that of lovers.

  For as daunting as the thought was, and the caution she kept in mind of the potential consequences, Maddox found herself getting closer than necessary while rinsing his hair. She'd even admitted that his opinion was important to her, feeling foolish for saying so after their rocky relationship so far—but it was the truth.

  Maybe it was inevitable, and for good or ill, their lives would become intertwined despite what either of them wanted. But regardless of the risks, this new change in Stephan was promising, and Maddox knew she'd regret not giving it a chance more than exploring their connection to learn where it might lead.

  And that's exactly what she intended on doing.

  Wrapping a towel around the ends of his hair, she directed Stephan over to one of the cutting stations and grabbed a tarp from the cabinet beneath the mirror to sling over his chest. Following this, she began combing his long, wet locks while asking basic questions about his haircut preferences—and it was like pulling teeth trying to get a straight answer.

  So in the end, she went with her instincts, snipping away lock after lock in eagerness to see how he'd look once properly groomed.

  During the process, she noticed in the mirror that Stephan's gaze was locked on her, and decided to point it out this time.

  “You're staring at me, Stephan.”

  Immediately, his eye darted to the side as he asked, “Would you mind turning the chair?”

  “For what?”

  Muttering as if reluctant to explain, he shrugged and kept his gaze down at his lap. Curious.

  “Do you not like to look in the mirror?” she inquired.

  “Does it matter?”

  “You brought it up.”

  “And I'm shutting it down.”

  Grinning, Maddox continued cutting without pressing for details, and the further she got, the more she realized that at any given time, Stephan's gaze was always anywhere but directly ahead. It had to mean he either possessed self esteem issues, or just didn't want her to catch him staring again—if not both.

  So she acquiesced, turning his chair with the words, “Maybe it's a good idea, anyway. I want you to be surprised.”

  Stephan sighed, but didn't respond, allowing her to start working on his bangs.

  His hair was so long and thick that it took time to even it out to her liking, but the further she got, the more she realized she'd been right all along—there was a handsome man hidden beneath that overgrown brown hair, and she finished her cut with a taper by his cheeks.

  Now it was just a matter of taming his beard.

  Stopping briefly to grab a waste basket from the storage room and sweep up what she'd already chopped off, Maddox started the task by snipping away the excess hair and slathered shaving gel across his jaw. Stephan issued no complaints, though he did look annoyed, so she playfully dabbed some gel on the tip of his nose, snickering when he grumbled and wiped it away.

  Grabbing a razor, she lightly pressed it to his cheek, a little surprised when the votary shut his eye in a show of trust. It was flattering to see such faith in her abilities as she gently made stroke after stroke, and Maddox didn't take it for granted.

  She worked diligently until his cheeks and jaw w
ere clean and smooth, taking care to make certain there weren't any stray hairs left clinging to his skin with a towel—and the outcome was surprising.

  Who would've thought Stephan had a slight cleft in his chin, or such a sharp jaw? And those lips? Those are definitely kissable lips. Now if he'd just smile more often …

  Gently, she cupped his jaw in both hands, drawing the tips of her fingers across his skin to check the smoothness. Stephan's lips parted with a breath in response, his pulse accelerating ever so slightly, and in hearing it, she nearly ran her thumb across his bottom lip, tempted to lean in for a followup inspection with a kiss.

  “So how bad's the damage?” he asked, attempting to sound casual.

  “Oh, trust me, there's no damage,” she promised, momentarily pushing her curiosities over kissing him away to reveal her work.

  Unfastening the tarp from his neck and dumping the last of the hair into the trash, she turned his chair to face the mirror with a dramatic, “Ta-da!”

  Quietly, Stephan sat forward, reaching up to stroke his chin. “That's fuckin' scary.”

  “What?”

  “I … that,” he motioned to himself in the mirror. “It's almost the same haircut I had five years ago.”

  “Then you approve?”

  She waited for an answer, and after a moment, Stephan turned in his chair and replaced the eye patch while blandly remarking, “It's fine.”

  Her lips pursed over the brusque retort. “Doesn't sound like it.”

  Exhaling a heavy breath, he finally looked at her and shot back, “It's like looking at a goddamned ghost, okay? That what you wanted to hear?”

  “No, but I wouldn't have minded hearing you say I was right, and you do look better.”

  “Okay, fine,” he muttered. “Yes, you did a damned good job, but I don't give a fuck what I look like, Maddox.”

  “You must, otherwise you wouldn't react so badly.”

  “I'm reacting this way because you keep pushing!”

  “I'm pushing because you need to realize there's nothing wrong with you! You're a very attractive man!”