“That’s where my condition comes in. If we’re going to work together, you give me a second chance.”
Of course that was his condition. It was so typically Andre—
“That means lots of dates,” he interrupted my thoughts. He began to smile. “Not one or two, but lots. We’re talking months and months of dates. And skanky cocktail dresses. I want to see you in so many skanky cocktail dresses that—”
“Fine,” I said. Skanky cocktail dresses? As if. I was going to have to work my way around that condition.
Upon hearing my answer, Andre’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Then a wicked smile gradually spread across his face. I knew I’d been had as soon as I saw it. I should’ve haggled with him.
“Great,” he said, “where do we start?”
***
I dropped the files on Catherine O’Connor and Harrison Moore onto the desk. “I haven’t looked these over, but these are copies of the Politia’s case files.” I’d received these copies from Maggie to study in my spare time.
Before I hadn’t cared to look at them, but now that so much was on the line, I couldn’t not go over them.
Andre scooted his chair next to mine and our legs brushed. Suddenly, the files were intensely fascinating.
I opened them up. On the first page, a photograph of the victim at the crime scene had been paper clipped to the pages that followed. Seeing the victims as they were originally found brought on a wave of nausea. I could never unsee and unsmell these two.
Catherine, the first victim, had been posed in the shape of a cross. Harrison, meanwhile, laid on the ground, his arms and legs spread apart.
“Two different positions, two different genders, two different locations,” I murmured. I was new at investigating, but it seemed from what I’d heard about serial killers that they usually had one underlying motivation—they were predictable, one just needed to find the pattern. I wasn’t seeing it yet.
Andre studied the photos next to me. “This doesn’t seem like a vampire’s work.”
I glanced at him. “Why do you say that?” I was curious. Andre had definitely seen more vampire murders than I had, yet it seemed obvious that the victims’ wounds were the work of a vampire.
“I saw the bodies at the crime scene. Something about them just doesn’t sit well with me.” He traced a finger over Catherine’s position. “She was placed in the sign of the cross. And he,” Andre’s attention moved over to the second victim, “his position makes me think of a pentagram.”
With his finger, Andre drew a star over the victim’s body. Sure enough, Harrison’s head, arms, and legs could easily be interpreted as points of a star. “Both are religious symbols. And vampires tend to not be the religious type, considering that we’re damned.”
I winced. “Isn’t the pentagram an evil sign?” I asked.
Andre studied the photographs. “Not for the most part. It’s often used as a sign of protection. It’s a very old, very powerful symbol.”
So there was a pattern. “Whoever is doing this is incorporating religion into the crimes.”
“It appears that way.”
“Do you think that the victims’ supernatural abilities have anything to do with the sign they were paired with?” I asked.
Andre rubbed his jaw. “There could be, although the connection between the two would largely be based on the killer’s perception rather than on some objective standard.”
I watched him. This Andre who was unaware of himself, who thought deeply, was intensely attractive. I felt like I was being let in on a secret by seeing this side of him.
“There might also be a connection between the religion and the victims’ lifestyles,” he said. “However, finding a link would require access to the victims’ homes and belongings—access that we do not have. You might pass this information back to the Politia and let them handle this aspect of the investigation.”
I scribbled down notes on our discussion to pass along. “If the Politia is going to investigate the victims, then what aspect of the case should we investigate?”
Andre’s face was grim. “The crime scenes themselves.”
***
We spent a bit more time flipping through the files, but they didn’t tell us anything more than what we already knew.
I turned over the last page in Harrison’s file. Catherine’s sat closed next to it. “Well, it looks like that’s it.”
I closed his file and slipped them both back in my bag. Once I did so, I faced Andre. “You really have no idea who’s responsible for this?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Gabrielle, not all of my subjects are particularly fond of me right now. Not after what I did on my birthday.”
I swallowed and felt a twinge of remorse. That had to rank as one of his shittiest birthdays. Watching your house burn, parting ways with your soulmate, killing one of your oldest friends and all the vampires he sired.
“It could be any one of my subjects. I just don’t know.”
“How do you know I didn’t commit those crimes?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
He searched my eyes. “You didn’t. I know that for a fact. You still smell.”
“I smell?”
A shadow of a smile crossed his face. “It’s a compliment, siren. I’d imagine all supernaturals with great olfactory senses have trouble around you. It’s not just your looks that draw others in.”
His eyes flicked to my lips, and my breath quickened at the thought of kissing him. I brought us back on topic. “So I smell—what of it?”
“Your scent would’ve been all over the crime scene. It wasn’t. Vampires, on the other hand, don’t have scents. They can only release pheromones when they’re turned on and when they captivate prey.”
“But you smell.”
He just looked at me.
And then it clicked. “I was smelling your pheromones. You were turned on.” As soon as I said it, I felt my cheeks heat. Why did I always have to put my foot in my mouth? “So, did you smell any pheromones on the bodies?” I asked, trying to move past my comment as quickly as possible.
He shook his head. “There were no pheromones on these victims, either because they diffused before I arrived, or—more likely—they never were secreted to begin with.”
“You know,” I said conversationally, “this is all kind of gross.”
He gave me a meaningful look. “I bet I could change your mind about that.”
My face flushed yet again. “Why didn’t you call me?” I asked. I wasn’t referring to the murders, and he knew it. I wanted to know why he’d never called to see if I was okay after the fire, why he’d never insisted that we restart my training.
He ran a hand through his hair, a sign that he was agitated. “I wanted you to come back to me on your own terms.”
“Why would that even matter?” I asked hotly.
“Do you want an honest answer?” he replied.
“Yes.”
“Fine—just remember you wanted to hear this.” I knew by his tone that he didn’t think I was going to believe him. He was probably right. “You run from things that scare you.”
“Thanks for the psychoanalysis Andre.” My voice was only a wee bit sarcastic.
He raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to hear the truth. You ran from Cinque Terre. You ran from me that night at Bishopcourt. Believe it or not, I’m a fairly quick learner.”
He looked at his hands. “I couldn’t keep chasing you. You needed your distance.”
“Andre, I didn’t need that much distance,” I said, my voice wavering.
He met my eyes. His were red. “That night at my party you looked at me like I was a monster. And that is what I am—a monster.” He came up to me and cupped my face. “You deserved—you still deserve—better t
han me, yet we are fated to be together. Soulmates.”
With him this close, none of it seemed important. So I did the only illogical thing there was to do: I wound my arms around his neck and kissed him.
Chapter 6
At first his body froze beneath mine. He probably had no idea what hit him. Then his hands wrapped themselves around my back, and he lifted me so I wouldn’t have to stand on my tiptoes.
I locked my legs around him and he moved his hand to cup my butt. His lips parted my own, and I felt as though I were on fire.
Oh God, this is why people fall in love.
I ran my hands through his hair as I kissed him. This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real. Only a day ago this wasn’t possible. And now it was happening. I hoped that this didn’t slip through my fingers the same way his hair was. Because we were both real good at messing things up.
He set me on his desk, right next to a small Egyptian statue, and he broke off the kiss. He leaned his head against mine and placed his hands on either side of my hips. His breathing was just as ragged as mine and both of our fangs were out.
“We should . . . probably take this . . . slower,” he said between breaths.
“Yeah.”
I guess that was what happened when you suppressed your heart for a little too long. It got you back when you least expected it.
It was a vindictive little bastard like that.
***
I slipped off the desk and picked up my bag. “I think I should probably get back to Peel.”
Andre tried to take my bag from me. I resisted. “I don’t think so fang boy,” I said, holding onto my messenger bag. “I can carry my own bag.”
He let go of the strap he was holding and instead took my hand. “I am not a boy,” Andre said, brooding next to me.
“I guess you’re just going to have to prove that along with the perks of pheromones.” We left his study and began down the hall.
“There is nothing to prove, soulmate,” he said, affronted. Meanwhile, my stomach fluttered at the term he used. Soulmate. It was just a term, it didn’t mean anything. Yet it meant everything.
Andre was fun to tease, but I needed to stop. He was starting to look genuinely offended. I guess no one had ever questioned his masculinity before. “So when do you want to meet up again to work on the case?” I asked.
“Tomorrow,” he said darkly. “Make sure to wear warm clothing.”
“Oh, and why is that?” I asked.
“We have two crime scenes to visit.”
***
I watched the bright lights of Peel fly by as we drove through the city. We’d just finished discussing my training. Somewhere in between investigating the murders we’d work on controlling my vampiric abilities.
Just ahead of us, the castle loomed, looking deceptively dilapidated. Beyond it the ocean shimmered under the moon.
“So,” Andre said, “a naked man showed up in your bed?” His voice was even and controlled, which meant that he didn’t want me to know what he was thinking.
“So what?” I said, daring him to pull some of that possessive crap he was known for.
He sighed, as though my reaction was unjustified. “I’m guessing you didn’t invite him into your room through the door.”
“I didn’t.”
Andre’s mouth was grim. “Did you dream about him?”
I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now.
“I’m taking your silence for yes,” Andre said. As we drove onto campus, the lights that illuminated the grounds moved over his face. He was breaking about three school rules by dropping me off. And no one stopped him. Chickens.
“I think I know what he is.”
“And what’s that?” I asked.
Andre squeezed the wheel. He was brooding again, his expression dark and dangerous. “An incubus.”
***
“What is an incubus?” I asked.
The car crept past the men’s dorms. “Remember the doppelganger that attacked you two months ago?” I nodded. “It’s worse than that.” Fantastic.
He stopped the car in front of my dorm. Andre angled his body to face mine. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said.
“I promise I won’t munch on anyone before I see you next,” I said dutifully.
If eyes were windows to the soul, then his soul was vast and filled with so much pain. “I wasn’t talking about other people. I was talking about you.”
I studied Andre’s features. The concerned crease between his brows, his dark eyes that held so much emotion in them, his welcoming lips. So few people had cared about what happened to me that his expression almost undid me.
I breathed in sharply through my nose. “I promise I’ll be careful.”
He leaned forward and slid a hand to the back of my head. He pressed a kiss to my lips. It was warm, gentle, and filled with all sorts of longing.
I was already a goner.
***
I Googled the word incubus on my smartphone as I headed up to my room, partially so that I wouldn’t mope as the current between Andre and me slipped away. His goodbye kiss was still warm on my lips.
I clicked the first link I saw, which directed me to a Wikipedia article.
Incubus is an American rock band from Calabasas, California.
I wish that was what landed in my bed last night. I scrolled down and clicked a link to a second Wikipedia article.
An incubus is a male demon who slips into dreams in an attempt to have sexual intercourse with the sleeper, usually for the purpose of fathering a child. Repeated intercourse with an incubus can result in physical deterioration and death.
I was officially going to barf. Why didn’t Andre tell me this? This was problematic, considering that I had no idea why the demon appeared, which meant that I had no idea how to prevent it from appearing again.
“Sexy mama!” Oliver shouted as I opened the door to my room. As soon as I saw my favorite fairy clad only in a pair of hot pink boxer briefs, I forgot about the incubus.
“Guess who’s your new roommate?” he squealed.
“What?” I tried to keep the alarm out of my voice.
Behind him a mattress sat between my bed and Leanne’s, covered with furry throw pillows, silk sheets, and a fluffy crimson comforter. Hands down it was the gaudiest thing I’d seen in a while.
Oliver followed my gaze to his makeshift bed. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” he gushed.
“Uh huh.” If I formed actual words, I didn’t think I’d be able to lie as convincingly.
Leanne sat at her desk, typing away at the computer. “Gabrielle, don’t sugarcoat it. That’s got to be the most hideous piece of furniture I’ve seen in a long time.”
Oliver sniffed. “I’m not going to let that get to me since I know you’re just upset about the candy.”
“You ate an industrial sized bag of chocolates!” Leanne said, swiveling around in her computer chair to face him. “That candy should’ve satisfied a group of twenty.”
“Now you’re just exaggerating. That’s like two chocolates per person.”
“Yeah, normal people eat about that much.”
Oliver shook his head. “That’s not nearly enough—not even for a pixie. And do I need to remind you just how small pixies are?”
“Why exactly are you going to be living with us?” I asked. It’s not like the school okay-ed this. In fact, I’d bet heavy money that Oliver got his roommate Paul to conjure the mattress, sheets, and pillows into existence.
“Because he wants to catch a glimpse of the guy with the big man bits,” Leanne said.
Oliver huffed. “No. I’m here to protect you two from any naked guy who might just show up.”
“So,” I said, “you’re here to catch a glimpse of the guy with the big man bits.”
He folded his arms. “You two need to get your minds out of the gutter,” he said.
I had to bite my lip not to laugh. Oliver couldn’t pull off looking offended when all he wore was a pair of hot pink boxer briefs.
I dropped my belongings next to my desk. “In all seriousness, Andre mentioned that this thing might be an incubus.”
“Andre!” Oliver exclaimed, fanning himself. “Oh baby Jesus, please tell me you took advantage of that situation.”
I stared at him, then cast my gaze over to Leanne. “Do I have to answer that?”
She said no at the same time he said yes.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “That’s beside the point. An incubus showed up last night. A demon. You guys might not be safe sleeping in the same room as me.”
Oliver cocked a hip. “You better not be kicking me out.”
“I’m not going anywhere either,” Leanne said. “If some naked dude comes, I’ll drop kick him.”
“Well, I might not do that,” Oliver said, “but I’ll happily take care of the problem.”
And then Oliver and Leanne went on as though I hadn’t just told them that a demon might show up tonight.
I seriously loved my friends.
***
The smell of seaweed and salt water woke me. I sat up in bed as the ocean’s surf licked the edge of my mattress. Above me the moon and the stars glowed in the night sky. I threw off the sheets and turned to get out of bed.
A hand wrapped around me. “Stay in bed,” a voice whispered in my ear.
I tugged against the hand, and the arm thrown around me tightened.
I looked over my shoulder. An angelic face peered back at me. He had long lashes, green eyes, tan skin, hair the color of wheat. “Stay with me,” he pleaded.
The Coveted (The Unearthly #2) Page 5