by Mara Leigh
“I spotted a young man,” she continues. “He was taking a piss in an alley. I meant to approach him slowly, carefully, and just take a short drink, but I underestimated my speed and strength, and my hunger.”
A wicked smile washes over her. “Andreas came to help me, to tell me to stop. But before he reached me, he was shot. From behind.”
“Shot?” I frown. “Vampires can heal from bullet wounds.”
“Shot, spiked, staked, speared. I don’t give a shit what verb you use. The little bitch used a spring-loaded wooden spike at point-blank range and it went straight through his heart.
“Bitch shot him in the back. I saw the blood trailing out of his mouth before I even noticed the wood pushing from his chest or the blood blooming on the white fabric of his shirt, like a rose opening in fast motion.
“And when he fell to his knees, I saw her behind him. The vicious little human who shot my love in the heart.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly because it seems appropriate.
“I killed the bitch,” she continues. “I tore out her throat while her boyfriend watched. Then I ripped out his throat too.”
Nausea rises inside me. I remember Colton telling me about this double murder, one he’d deemed unrelated to the serial killings, because of the gory violence and the absence of the telltale scar.
“That’s terrible,” I say.
“Thank you,” she replies, totally missing my meaning.
A smile washes over her face, and I hate how my emotions react. I pleased her. I feel proud that I pleased her. What is wrong with me?
I mentally shake my head, hoping to rid my mind of all warm thoughts toward her. “What’s with the scar?” I lift my hair again.
She traces the outline of my scar and it sends a shiver through me. “It’s a symbol Andreas wore on a pendant, close to his heart.”
“What does it mean?” I ask her stepping out of her reach.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just know that the symbol is beautiful, and it was important to him, part of who he was, so I leave a trace of my beloved Andreas on every one of the humans I take in his name.”
I should ask her where she lives, so I can tell Astrid. Better yet, I should drive a stake through her heart right now.
“I should go,” I say instead. I’m so uncomfortable, so conflicted and feel like the longer I stay near her, the worse my confusion will grow.
“Please.” She reaches toward me. “Don’t go. Join me. Together we can avenge Andreas. Avenge all the vampires murdered. Exact revenge.” Her expression seems diabolical, and yet I’m still drawn to her.
“Revenge on who?”
“On humans. All humans. Starting with the monster who killed Andreas.”
“But you already killed her. You got your revenge, why keep killing?”
“Andreas will never be avenged while humans walk the Earth.”
I step away from her, disgusted.
“You don’t understand, my pet.” Her hand lands softly on my shoulder. “But I will teach you. As your Maker it’s my responsibility to guide you.”
“You murder innocent people.”
“Humans murder innocent vampires! All humans deserve death, but—” her eyes narrow “—especially ones like her.” Her eyes open wider. “That must be why I went after you.” She shakes her head. “But you’re different. Special. It was clearly destiny that I attacked you. Your transition was a miracle. Clearly we’re meant to work together.”
I detest what she’s saying, and yet something about it tugs at my heart. Gray keeps saying I’m special. What if Zora is the reason why?
And I hate how she makes it sound logical that I belong at her side, or that what she’s doing is right. In her mind it’s kill or be killed, and by Colton’s own admission, humans kill every vampire on sight without fear of consequence, so why shouldn’t vampires do the same?
But even if I can talk myself out of that logic, something else about Zora calls to me. Her blood. It’s calling to me like a siren, a force that’s rendering logic or morals irrelevant.
I lick my teeth, my fangs pulsing to release as my body is pulled toward her, as my thirst continues to grow.
“Come, my pet,” she coos. “I know an underground club where we can feed from each other, where vampires gather without fear of humans or the ridiculous syndicate rules. A place we can stay after dawn, without fear of the sun.”
“Where is it?” At least if I learn the location I can let Astrid know.
But I’m fooling myself. I want to go with her—feed from her—and the warmth of temptation spreads inside me. I want this. I want her. Zora is my true mother. My real family. Where I belong.
Someone lands at my side, and I gasp with shock. It’s Pike.
Zora disappears the second he arrives and my heart sinks. I miss her already.
“Come,” he says. “You’re not safe here.”
“Have you been following me?” Anger rises inside me, but my sense of loss at Zora’s departure is replaced by a hint of relief.
He looks away. “Just come. The pigs are raiding this area tonight.”
“Pigs?”
“Cops. Humans. They’ve killed dozens of vampires already. And more than a few homeless humans. They’re less than a block away.” His voice is filled with urgency and fear.
I nod, he takes my hand and we race into the night.
When Pike finally slows, we’re back in the Junction neighborhood, not far from Rock’s bar, and I’m shocked how much it touches me that Pike took me someplace I feel safe.
Dropping my hand, he steps into a shadow as a group of young women pass, one of them opening her eyes in obvious alarm when she spots Pike’s scars, or perhaps just his size.
“Thank you,” I say softly, and I wonder if he realizes he saved me from more than just the police.
He nods, but doesn’t look up from the sidewalk. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and pain flashes across his face.
Watching him in the alley as he stares at the ground, seemingly in pain, my hand itches to trace over his scars, to compare that part of his face to the smoother skin on the other side. To use my lips to soothe whatever torment he’s experiencing now.
“I am grateful for tonight,” I say, “but you can’t keep following me—”
He looks up, his amber eyes catching the light. “I need to keep you safe.”
I chew the inside of my lip, chewing on the conflict inside me too. I hate that he was following me, but I can’t deny that it gives me a sense of safety knowing I wasn’t as alone out there tonight as I felt until Zora arrived.
“Stay away from her,” Pike says, his eyes casting down again.
“Zora?”
He nods. “She’s dangerous. Crazy. A killer.”
“She’s my Maker.”
He lifts his gaze to meet mine, then looks down again. “Resist the pull I know you must feel then. She might not ever hurt you, but she will get you killed.”
“I feel so connected to her.” I close my eyes for a moment, shocked at how easily I’m sharing this information with Pike. “Is that normal?”
His shoulders jerk almost as if he’s laughing. “How would I know about normal?”
“Do you feel connected to your Maker?”
He looks away from me, his jaw hardening.
“Do you ever feel…psychically connected to your Maker?” I probe again. “Like you can hear his thoughts? See through his eyes?”
“Her.” He tips his head to the side. “Sure I felt connected. I loved my Maker. I loved her with all my heart. But a psychic connection?” He glances toward me, then down to the pavement. “You mean, like ESP?”
“I guess so.” I take a deep breath, eager to admit this to someone who might understand. “I have dreams. Vivid dreams. Dreams where it’s like I’m seeing through my Maker’s eyes, feeling what she feels.” And doing what she does.
He looks straight into my eyes for t
he first time. “That’s trippy.”
“No kidding.” I can’t help but grin at the word trippy. It must be from another time, and in spite of my fear, I want to know when the word is from, how long he’s lived, where he’s been, how he got his scars. I want to know everything about him.
“Do you still see your Maker?” I ask.
He shakes his head, then looks away from me down the street. “I lost her. Forever.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach forward, my instincts wanting to take his hand, even just brush the cuff of his leather jacket, but I drop my hand down before I do. “Was she killed?”
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Last time I saw her was 1974. In Vietnam.”
“Oh.” That was during the Vietnam War, I think. I know very little about that war, none of it good. “Were you a soldier?”
He nods.
“Is that how you got your scars?”
He nods again.
I sense we’ve both just shown parts of ourselves we haven’t shown others, and the silence feels intimate, wrapping around us like a warm blanket, and somehow, while we’ve been talking, I’ve moved closer toward Pike. His blood hums under the surface of his skin, singing to me in the most alluring voice I can imagine.
I shift my gaze to his heavy boots as I lick my lips, knowing I have to resist, that it would be wrong to drink Pike’s blood. Very wrong.
Gray is the one and only vampire I’ve fed from, and for some reason he won’t let me do it again. But my urge for vampire blood is building. I don’t know how often my body needs it, but it’s calling for more right now. In fact the call is so strong, at the next opportunity I may plunge my fangs into Gray without asking permission.
I have yet to understand all the intricacies and implications of feeding from another vampire, but based on the pull I felt toward Zora’s blood and feel toward Pike’s right now—vampires who scare and repulse me—it’s not hard to understand the act’s power.
And the even stronger power that must come through feeding from your Maker. If that’s what triggers a transition, then it must be the most powerful feeding of all.
What would that feel like? Taking Zora’s vein?
I shake my head. I’ll never know. Zora’s evil and she needs to die.
I raise my gaze, letting it slide up over Pike’s powerful, leather-clad legs, his solid torso and up to his face. I catch him looking at me and his eyes send a shiver of fear-tinged desire shooting through me.
He looks down.
“I hear Gray invited you to stay at his house,” I say to break the thick silence.
Pike scrapes his boot along the pavement and nods.
“Is that something you want?”
He lifts his head quickly. “More than anything.”
“Really?”
“To keep you safe.” His voice is deep and low, like a growled whisper, and it rumbles inside me.
That’s not necessary, I plan to say, but instead what comes out is, “That’s thoughtful.”
“Not thoughtful.” His voice seems to emerge from deep in his chest, maybe lower. “Selfish. If anyone hurt you I’d die.”
“But Pike, you—” How can he say that after he’s hurt me so much?
As if knowing what I’m thinking, he hangs his head even lower than before, and his hand tucks back into his pocket. Pain spreads over his face.
“I should have stopped it sooner,” he says. “I should have stopped Xavier years before you even came to court. You suffered—so much—and others too…” He shakes his head. “I have no excuse.”
His jaw hardens and then I see him wince again. It’s almost as if his regrets cause him physical pain.
“Let’s go to the bar,” I say quietly. “You can meet Rock.”
He shakes his head.
“You don’t want to meet Rock?”
“I don’t want to go inside.”
“Why not?”
He kicks his heel against the brick wall behind him. “I’d be bad for Rock’s business.”
“Don’t be silly.”
His chin lifts. “You think I’m silly?” The corner of his mouth quirks in the slightest hint of a grin, and it’s the first hint of lightness I’ve seen in the man—ever.
It’s hard to contain the joy that small morsel of humor makes me feel.
“You are silly,” I tell him. “Silly if you think your coming into the bar would hurt Rock’s business. Do you think the other customers will run screaming? You give yourself too much credit.” Although I have to admit, there was a time that the mere sight of Pike did that to me.
“I don’t do…” He frowns. “I don’t do people. Never have. But especially since…”
“Since your transition?” I finish his trailed off sentence.
“Before that. Since the war. I don’t know.” He winces in pain again.
I nod, then reach out to touch his sleeve above where his hand is tucked into his jacket pocket. “I’ll go in on my own then. I’ll let Gray know you’re out here. Okay?”
He nods.
“See you at Gray’s later?” I ask.
His breath hitches, but then he nods, and it flashes so quickly I can’t be certain, but I think that he smiles.
Chapter 28
Selina
I’m charged with nervous tension as I open the door to the bar. Hearing or merely thinking Pike’s name used to generate an intense fear inside me, something worse than fear, but now… Now what I’m feeling is equally strong, but I’m not sure how to name it.
It’s like a strange excitement that anything could happen—something dangerous, something sexual—but there’s also something tender underlying that energy that’s almost like a strong desire to make sure that he’s protected.
Pike strikes me as the type of man who’s never had anyone looking out for him.
And as much as it scares me, I actually do hope he comes to live with us, if only to know that he won’t get caught in one of these police raids or burned to death by the sun. I want to make sure that he’s safe.
The second I enter the bar, I spot three handsome and smiling faces, all directing their attention to me. Joy rushes to surround me.
Rock smiles and raises a half-filled wine glass, the relief in his eyes is so obvious I feel it stroke inside me.
Gray’s leaning against the far end of the bar and his smile is knowing and lustful, like he knew I’d show up here, and knows what he wants from me right now—wants all the time.
Near the back of the bar, Colton’s chair scrapes along the hardwood floor under his table that’s close to the booth where I normally sit. His face and his posture exude happiness, like it’s all he can do not to bound up to me and lick my face. Lick me everywhere.
That thought heats my blood.
I pause. I want to go to all three of them. But after tonight’s events, the two I most need to speak to are Colton and Gray—but for very different reasons.
I’m still doing mental triage on who to go to first, when Colton strides toward me, his puppy-dog grin an injection of joyfulness.
“Hi.” He reaches for me, then stops himself, clearly unsure whether or not to hug me.
This time I’m the one to make the decision. I reach out and we embrace, and his strong arms envelop me along with his clean, soapy scent. The hug is so familiar, so comfortable, like we’ve done it dozens of times before, and his heart is pumping so hard and fast that even his blood sounds happy. The only thing marring the experience is all the wooden stakes I feel in the lining of his jacket.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says. “I’ve got so much to tell you.”
I look up, swept away by his sparkling green eyes and his dimples, so deep from his permagrin.
I fake a pout. “Is a chance to talk about your work the only reason you’re glad to see me?”
His eyes open with concern and he raises a hand to his hair. “No, Selina. It’s not… I always want to see you. For…for lots of reasons.”
&nb
sp; I tug on the sleeve of his jacket. “I was kidding.”
His smile returns. “Thank goodness.”
“Listen,” I say. “I need to have a quick chat with Gray. Can you wait a bit? Then maybe we can go for a walk or something?”
Disappointment flashes on his face so quickly it’s almost imperceptible, then the puppy returns. He nods and smiles. “A walk sounds fantastic. It’s such a nice night. And I’m armed, ready to protect you.” He pats his jacket, taking a bite out of the joy I feel when I’m around him.
I brush his hand lightly. “See you in a bit, okay?”
He returns to his table, and I join Gray at the bar.
“Everything okay, princess?”
“Yup.”
“You said you wouldn’t go out on your own.”
I smile. “I changed my mind. I needed a walk.” Why aren’t I telling him the truth? Pike knows…
Rock comes over, pours me a glass of whiskey and tops up Gray’s wine. “You were gone for a long time.” Rock’s eyes broadcast concern.
“I saw Pike.”
“What?” Rock leans toward me. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head and put my hand over Rock’s on the bar. “It was fine. I’m fine. And—” I turn to Gray “—I told him it’s okay if he moves in. He’s outside right now.”
“Are you sure?” Rock asks.
“I think his bark is worse than his bite.” I take a sip of the whiskey. “I may have misjudged him.” I judged Pike harshly, but based on our brief conversation, no one has judged Pike more harshly than himself.
“As you wish, princess.” Gray grins.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask Gray, nodding toward the booth.
A customer down the bar signals for Rock.
“You staying until closing?” he asks before leaving.
“Not sure,” I answer. “If not, I’ll see you at home?”
Rock leans over the bar to kiss me lightly, then I head over to the booth with Gray.
“What’s up, princess?” he asks.
Nerves scramble inside me. I do not want to tell Gray that I’ve met Zora. I didn’t think I’d want to keep it from Gray or Rock—or even Colton—but now that it’s real I can’t bring myself to do it.