Ache (Vampire Beloved Book Three)

by R. E. Butler

  “Nope. She didn’t call to say she was going to be late, but that girl has issues with timeliness. Which is dumb, since being food is one of the cushiest jobs in the coven.”

  “You know how much they make?”

  “It depends on when they were hired and how popular they are. Usually it’s five hundred a night. There are a few males and females who make four figures, but they’re well-liked by coven members and will take on special assignments, like feeding coven visitors or feeding more than two vampires in a night.”

  “Hard to believe anyone wouldn’t be here on time for a job that paid that well for basically hanging out in a club and donating blood.”

  “Agreed. But humans are weird.”

  “Hey!” a female said indignantly.

  “You know it’s true, Mindy,” Denny said with a chuckle. “Remember that male who snuck in his puppy because he didn’t want to leave it home by itself? Y’all are odd ducks.”

  “You were one of us at one time,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, but now I’m an awesome vampire.”

  She snorted with a smile and walked out of the room.

  “You mind if I hang out here?” Bellamin asked, not intending to leave even if Denny said he didn’t want him to.

  “Sure. It’s your free time.”

  Bellamin stayed near the back of the room with his eyes on the door, watching as males and females trickled in, checking with Denny before heading out to the club. He’d never paid much attention to the food. When he was hungry, he looked for white shirts and then picked someone that appealed to him. But now as he watched each one, he noticed how different they all were. Some looked like they were nearing retirement age, some looked like they were still in college. All different body types and skin tones, tall and short, well-built and curvy. None of them smelled like Selma, sweet and enticing.

  He dropped his head back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. It was an hour after sunset. Was Selma going to show?

  Abruptly he wondered if something really had been wrong.

  A female walked in a few minutes later, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “Sorry, sorry. Traffic.” She set her ID on the table. “Selma Archer.”

  Bell straightened with a snarl. “No you’re not.”

  The female startled. “Excuse me?”

  Bell stalked around the desk and grasped the female by the lapels of her denim jacket. “You’re not Selma. Where is she?”

  “Let me go, help!”

  “Bellamin!” Denny shouted his name and Bell had to force himself to relax his grip on her coat. He took a step away and inhaled a calming breath, which did nothing to diffuse the tension that held him in a tight grip.

  “I’m sorry. I met a female on Sunday night who said her name was Selma Archer, and you’re absolutely not her. So either she was lying or you are. Which is it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, I have a job to do, so please get out of my way.” She sounded aggravated, but there was no mistaking the fear in her eyes.

  Eyes that were a hell of a lot like the female he’d fallen for two nights ago.

  “Call Cella,” Bellamin said to Denny. Glancing at the female, he pointed a finger at her and said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

  * * *

  Tuesday night, Kelly sat in Margot’s tiny office at the back of the bookstore and watched video footage from the jewelry store across the street. The owners had a camera pointed at the street, which allowed them to see a perfect view of the front door. They watched the footage for Saturday.

  “I think I saw something,” Kelly said, leaning forward. She pressed the button and rewound the footage. “Right there. At seven-oh-five.”

  Margot mimicked her, peering at the screen as Kelly started the footage again.

  There was a strange blur and then the box was in front of the door.

  “Is it... what the heck is that?” Kelly asked.

  Margot watched the footage a few times, slowing it down further until they could watch a frame at a time. It was then they could see it was a person, but the footage wasn’t good enough quality for them to make the person out clearly.

  “Who can move that fast? Or what?” Kelly asked.

  “A vampire,” Margot said. “Or a shifter. Whoever left the box clearly didn’t want to be seen dropping it off. It makes me wonder if whoever it is knew about the book.”

  Kelly leaned back in the chair and rubbed the space between her eyes. “But if no one knows who the Key Keeper is, then no one could possibly know to drop it off here so I’d find it.”

  Margot hummed as she watched the footage a few more times, and then she closed the video program and sat back in her creaky, old chair. “It’s a mystery. Fate is a funny thing, though. Perhaps it’s innocent—whoever dropped off the box of books didn’t know what the book was because it’s coded, and to my knowledge no one even knew what the Key book looked like.”

  Kelly had dropped her blood onto the other symbols Monday night after the shop was closed, and as Margot had predicted, Kelly had been able to read the title of the book—Key of Aramnapor. The lock had opened easily with a press of her finger. The book was about an inch thick, the pages covered with symbols. Once Kelly studied the symbols, they morphed into words she could read. As the title suggested, it was a key to unlocking the Book of Aramnapor. But without the main book, Kelly simply had a key that didn’t mean anything to her.

  Margot let her put the book in a safe in the store’s office, and Kelly had gone home Monday night. Although she was bone tired and wearier than she’d ever been, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Unlocking the book had put the strange metallic vines and leaves over her thumb, index finger, middle finger, and pinky, leaving her ring finger bare. When she’d been away from the book, what she’d come to think of as a supernatural tattoo had all but disappeared, only the faintest of lines showing on her skin. Her mind had spun all night, not allowing her to sleep much. Not only was she thinking about the book, but Bellamin too.

  Even though he didn’t know her real name or where she lived or worked, she’d still spent Monday hoping he’d figure out where she was and come find her. But he hadn’t. And even now, as Tuesday waned, she still half-hoped he’d walk through the front doors like a knight in shining armor and pull her into his arms and tell her she’d misunderstood what he’d said about food.

  “Well, I think,” Margot said, drawing her out of her thoughts, “that we’ll never know who dropped the box off, or whether they knew the book was in there. Even if someone saw the book, I don’t think there’s any way to know that it’s linked to the Aramnapor coven except in this case, where you ended up being the Key Keeper.”

  Kelly snorted. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You have a few choices. We took the book off the website, and according to the stats for the post, only a handful of people looked at the image. I don’t think anyone would guess it was the coven’s book. Unless, of course, they had the book itself and knew what the symbols looked like. While the word ‘key’ is unique, the coven’s symbol would be the same on the main book.”

  “So if Danlier has people looking for that symbol online it’s possible he knows about it and is coming here?”

  Margot shrugged. “It’s possible, but it seems unlikely. The post was up for half a day. I’d say the odds are slim.”

  “Slim but not nonexistent.” Kelly sighed and rubbed her neck. “So what are my choices?”

  “You can drive up to Lake Erie and throw the book in the water and forget you ever saw it.”

  “The book’s indestructible, though.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll still sink. You’re human, so maybe no one would find it for a hundred years and you’d be dead by then.”

  “Thanks,” Kelly said dryly.

  “Unless, of course, you and Bellamin make up and he turns you. Then tossing it into the lake is probably not the best idea.”

  Kelly restrained a shiver at t
he thought of being turned. It was one of the things that kept coming into her mind. He was a vampire, and vampires were immortal. If he wanted to be with her, then he’d have to turn her and she’d be immortal.

  “Anyway,” she said, emphasizing “any,” to move the conversation along, “What are the other options besides chucking it in the lake?”

  “You could put it in a safe somewhere and forget about it.”

  “That’s barely different than throwing it in the lake.”

  “True. The last option I think would be to give it to someone powerful enough to protect it and in essence protect yourself.”

  “Such as who?”

  “Lorene, the North Corner of the Cleveland coven. She’s really powerful. And she’s all about protecting innocents. There’s also Mishka.”

  “The vampire king?”

  “Master, not king, but yeah. Since he had the original book, he’d probably be very interested in having the key, and I’m sure he’d be willing to store it safely for you. If someone came looking for the book, you could say ‘talk to Mishka or Lorene’ and it would take the danger off your shoulders.”

  “I suppose.” Kelly rubbed her chin with her knuckles. “What would you do?”

  “Not nick myself with an old book.”

  Kelly snorted a laugh. “But say you did.”

  “I’d probably ask to meet with Mishka and get him to offer his protection to you and a safe place to store the book. Then, on the off chance Danlier shows up, you’ve got Mishka to help you deal with it. No one wants to get on Mishka’s bad side.”

  “Why?” She didn’t know much about the head of the coven, but at one time he’d been the most eligible bachelor in the state. He was constantly photographed and followed by paparazzi. Then he mated a beautiful woman with colorful hair and that had been the end of his bachelor status.

  “He’s the head of the largest coven in the Midwest, and his family—his inner circle—is comprised of some seriously powerful males. He’s got Brone, who’s over a thousand years old; and all of the inner circle are warriors, except for the lone female, Cella. She’s no warrior, but her beloved is a hybrid shifter vampire, and Mishka’s mate is a musical muse who killed a whole bunch of humans who took her captive.”

  “So he’s got the manpower—and womanpower—to take on anyone who would come for the book?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is the original book dangerous?”

  “Not by itself, no. But no one really knows what’s inside it since it’s indecipherable. The rumors are that the book contains a map to the treasure hoarded by the coven, and also supernatural secrets that would be invaluable. Whether that’s true or not? Who knows. It could just be a diary or a family tree. It could be nothing at all of value.”

  Kelly blew out a breath. She looked at the cat-shaped clock on the wall. “I think we’ve devoted too much time to this, don’t you? The bookstore’s been closed since yesterday and we’ve done nothing but research.”

  “Do you want me to reach out to Lorene or Mishka?”

  Kelly pushed away from the desk and stood, smoothing her hands down her jeans. “Let me think about it. Can I keep it here in your safe until I decide?”

  “Of course.”

  “It won’t put you in danger, right?”

  “Not at all. I protected myself and the store with magic. And don’t forget your own protection ward.”

  Margot grasped Kelly’s arm above the beautiful bracelet she’d given her on Monday. It was braided leather and had a purple stone wrapped in silver.

  “Thank you for making it for me.”

  “It’s my pleasure. You’re like family to me, and I want you to be safe.”

  “Well, I want that too.”

  The bell rang at the front door, and the two women looked at each other in curiosity. “Who could that be?” Margot asked.

  “If we had one of those doorbell camera thingies we wouldn’t have to get up and look,” Kelly pointed out. The two stood to leave the office, when a very familiar voice shouted her name.

  “Open up, Kelly. Please, we need to talk.”

  “It’s him,” Kelly said, her heart clenching.

  “Who?” Margot asked.

  “Bellamin.”

  Chapter Nine

  Bellamin was pissed. Well, pissed wasn’t quite the right word for how he felt knowing that the Selma he’d made love to was not the female in front of him.

  He was furious. Filled with the fire of a thousand suns.

  Selma stood at the check-in desk with an angry frown, glaring at him whenever she looked up from her phone. She’d clammed up the moment Cella was called, and although it had only been a few minutes, it felt like it was taking Cella ages to get to the room.

  “So what’s up?” Cella asked as she breezed into the room. Cyrus was at her side, and he nodded at Bell.

  “He won’t let me go to work,” Selma said, pointing a finger at Bell.

  “She’s not who she says she is,” he retorted.

  “Whoa, okay, hold on,” Cella said, putting up her hands. “Bell, you first.”

  “Why does he get to go first?” Selma sputtered.

  “Because he works for the coven and I trust him. You, on the other hand, have proven to not be entirely trustworthy. I’ll hear your side in a minute.”

  She fumed silently, her jaw clenched, while Bell explained that he’d waited for Selma to show up, but instead found someone else in her place.

  “That’s interesting,” Cella said. “So what’s your side, Selma?”

  “I worked on Sunday night. I’ve never seen him before in my life. He put his hands on me and he scared me. I should be compensated for that.”

  Cyrus let out a soft growl. “Did you put your hands on her, Bell?”

  “I... yeah. I grabbed her jacket collar. I’m sorry for that, I was just overwhelmed.”

  Cella looked at Bell and then Selma, her gaze switching between the two before finally landing on him. “Are you certain she said her name was Selma Archer?”

  “Yes. I came to see you and asked for her address, but you wouldn’t give it to me.”

  “I remember,” she said. Then she turned her gaze to the female. “Which means that you’re lying. So first things first—who took your place on Sunday night?”

  She seemed to be fighting against saying something, and that made Bell want to bellow out a few choice curse words.

  Finally, she let out an aggravated grunt and said, “It was my sister.”

  “What’s her name?” Bell asked.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because she and I spent time together, and she left before I could get her number.”

  Selma’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I should tell you. You’re getting me fired.”

  “Well, whether you tell him your sister’s name or not,” Cella said, “you’re definitely fired. And it’s not his fault that your sister is his mate.”

  Shaking her head, Selma said, “My sister was upset when she got home. She’d been crying. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, and I was worried that she’d gotten hurt during her shift. She never fed a vampire before and she was scared to death.”

  Bell straightened, his fevered brain catching on that last part. “She... was a blood virgin?”

  “Ew, is that what you call them? That’s gross.” Selma made a face. “But yeah, I guess she is. As long as you didn’t feed from her.”

  “So what did your sister say?” Cella urged.

  “She said that she was fine and hadn’t been hurt. When I pressed her about why she was crying, she asked me if all vampires hated blood donors. I didn’t understand what she meant, and she said that she’d overheard someone say that they were disappointed to like someone who was food.” Selma leveled a long look at Bell that made him feel about two inches tall.

  Shit.

  He’d said in the past that he didn’t think much of human food, likening them to prostitutes. But he hadn’t ever said
those words to a human, and he’d definitely not said them in front of his beloved mate. So how had she known his inner thoughts?

  “Seriously?” Cella said, practically snarling the word as she spun on him. “Newsflash, Bellamin. We need food to continue living. How could you disrespect any of the people who give their blood? It serves you right if your mate never wants to see you again, even though you were clearly wrong about her. She’d never fed anyone, so she was actually perfect for you.”

  He wanted to kick his own ass.

  “So it’s true, then?” Selma asked, tilting her head. “You said some jackass thing about food and my sister overheard you?”

  “I felt that way before I met her, but I never said that to her. Obviously, there’s been a mistake,” Bell said.

  “Yeah, no shit. Geez, she’s a nice girl. She was bailing me out because I didn’t want to lose my job, but I guess I did anyway.”

  Cella opened her mouth, but Cyrus put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Give us a sec.”

  The two stepped aside and whispered, and Bell looked at Selma. “I’m sorry. Cella’s not wrong, I do have preconceived notions about food.”

  Selma took a few steps closer to him. “You think I’m a whore?”

  He cringed. How often had he said that in casual conversation with other vampires? He even remembered talking to Brone’s mate Arissa about how he felt about people who sold their blood. He hadn’t realized until now just how destructive his feelings were. He was an asshole of the highest order.

  “I never meant for any human to hear me say that word, particularly not your sister. I don’t know how she got that information from me, but she clearly did in some way.” And he damn sure wanted to know how.

  “How old are you anyway?”

  “Two hundred.”

  “Damn.” She sighed deeply. “I think my sister was mad on my behalf. It would be like if you called her a whore, and I heard you, I’d be pissed. But unlike my sister, I wouldn’t run away. I’d confront you about it and maybe even give you a kick in the nuts for good measure.”