Scorched [Pain & Love 3] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Ashlei D. Hawley

  After balling up his socks and tossing them in the trunk, Dan slid into the driver’s seat and turned the car on. “We’ll go to the church on Birch next,” he told her. Lydia didn’t respond. Shifting gears, Dan drove them out of the parking lot.

  He allowed silence to rule for two streets, speaking again once they made a right on Birch. “I only ever wanted to be with you without hurting you,” Dan said softly. Lydia snorted. He knew she didn’t think his words were worthy of a response. “I didn’t know what you were until later,” he confided to her. “I knew you were special originally, but please try to look at it from my point of view. How many people have we brought in who were convinced they were normal? Until you told me what you were, I couldn’t be sure you even knew.”

  The point was solid, and Lydia hated him for it. “You still lied to me after you found out I was a Dragon. You know there’s no way to be a Dragon and not know it.”

  “We weren’t speaking then,” he countered patiently. He turned into the church parking lot. Seeing the lights of the parking lot were extinguished and none of the windows glowed from within, he felt less than confident they would find any more than they had thus far.

  “And you made no effort to change that,” Lydia said.

  Though he put the car in Park, she made no attempt to leave the vehicle. Instead, she turned in her seat and faced him, crossing her arms beneath her breasts as she did so. Her golden eyes burned with anger, betrayal, and stubbornness. The look had been directed his way all too often.

  He decided to go with full-blown honesty. It seemed nothing else would do for her. “I don’t know what you want from me, Lydia.”

  “The truth would be an improvement,” she said with ice in her voice.

  “I love you.” The words threatened to stick in his throat. He’d never been as scared of anything as he was in that moment. He put everything he could on the table, save the one thing, and hoped it was enough.

  Lydia blinked her golden eyes slowly, debating her response in the same way a big cat will consider a chance at overtaking prey. In a measured tone, she asked, “And what is that supposed to mean to me right now?”

  Dan sucked in a deep breath, realizing he’d been holding the previous one. She had to hold herself in reserve. It was in her nature. Though her refusal to return his proclamation stung, he knew why she wouldn’t.

  “It’s the only reason I’ve done anything since I met you,” he insisted. “The Hunters can’t allow love. They almost treat it like a virus to be eradicated. They seek it out and destroy it in the harshest way they can think of. I couldn’t keep you in that danger, no matter how many times I wanted to go to you. Everything I’ve done in this life has been to keep you safe, even if I couldn’t make you happy. We finally have a chance to loosen their hold here. If we reclaim your powers, we can make this your territory again and send the fuckers to Hell where they belong.”

  “You’re one of them,” Lydia said. “If that’s your way of thinking, isn’t that where you belong, as well?”

  “I belong with you,” Dan said as he reached for her hand.

  Lydia took his instinctively, and the warmth that spread between them felt good and natural, like the fire that burned in her core. His words, spoken so easily and plainly, warmed her heart more than any others ever had. She depended on bonds to maintain herself. Throughout lives and centuries, her bonds with her sister and her mother had kept life from becoming boring, and being too trying. The bonds had healed heartache and made life worth living. The bond with Dan could be that way, she felt, and she loathed the fear that sprang within her soul when she thought about losing it or about holding such a grudge she allowed it to wilt like a dying flower. “Why do you do that?”

  The ire had gone from her voice, and Dan smiled at the quietness of it. “Self-preservation, mostly,” he told her. “I am in love with a mad woman, after all.”

  She punched him in the shoulder, making sure it wasn’t the one she’d burned. “You’re an ass.”

  Smiling, Dan gestured toward the church. “Shall we?” He wouldn’t press for her to return his sentiments. She did everything on her own time, and he knew not to rush anything. Trying to pressure her would end badly for him and he knew it.

  “They aren’t here, either,” she said with a frown.

  Dan nodded. “I don’t feel them,” he concurred. “Should we move on?”

  “You said there were three other places to check, right?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Yeah, let’s move on, then,” she said.

  Shifting back into drive, Dan continued on the increasingly frustrating journey. There was one more thing he had to hide from her, and if they couldn’t find the Hunters, he couldn’t be fully honest with her. The conundrum ate at him as they drove.

  * * * *

  Elsewhere in the night, Henry observed one of his newest younglings. He’d taken to The Turn with marvelous success, pulling through faster than any Henry had ever seen. He felt drunk on power and lust. It seemed the more humans he turned, the more effective his blood became. It mattered little to him that the multitude of crazed or dead younglings far outnumbered the solid-minded. The one before him was a prime example of the power of his blood, of the grace and beauty he imbued on his protégé.

  “I am everything you’ve ever wanted,” Henry murmured as the young man knelt before him. The slender, dark-haired youngling murmured words of agreement as he rubbed against Henry’s bare thigh.

  The maker sat on a plush red chair. The hues of the room echoed the piece and fit his increasingly crazed moods. Garish and overwhelming, the owner of the room would likely have painted the walls with real blood if they’d been allowed. As soon as Henry had discovered the room, he’d claimed the home as his base of operations in the town. The owners of the home, a man and a woman in their early thirties who dressed in too much black and smoked too much weed, had been displaced without attempting to be turned. When Henry claimed something, he didn’t want anyone to be able to challenge his ownership.

  Henry swelled with arousal when the newly turned man brushed his cheek over Henry’s groin. He’d met and exceeded all of Henry’s expectations so far. Unlike Leigh, he’d immediately recognized that Henry was worthy of worship, adulation, and unending devotion. The youngling’s tongue slithered out and touched the pulsing crown of Henry’s member. Sliding his down the bottom of Henry’s shaft, he pulled himself toward Henry’s lap, taking most of the impressive length into his mouth.

  Henry sighed. Even the presence of newly acquired fangs didn’t keep the man from pleasing his maker. Why couldn’t Leigh have been the same? With a growl, he pushed thoughts of his most disappointing youngling from his mind.

  “Bring another,” he ordered one of his female underlings.

  From the basement, she collected an unconscious young woman and hurriedly brought her to Henry. Holding the naked woman so her arm fell, suspended in front of Henry’s mouth, she waited with infinite patience for her maker to do as he desired.

  While the dark-haired man’s head bobbed up and down between Henry’s legs, the maker opened his newest victim’s vein just below the palm of her hand. Tearing into the skin violently, he spread his legs and arched up into the warm mouth that surrounded him.

  The bleeding woman gave a moan of pain while Henry drew greedily from her. A similar sound rolled up from his throat, but the noise was pure pleasure. Working to drain her as he drained himself, he thrust up into his youngling’s mouth and drew mouthful after mouthful of sweet, thick blood from the woman’s wrist. When he pulled his mouth away from the porcelain flesh, crimson painted his mouth, cheeks, and chin. With another growl, he pulled his youngling from his task and yanked him upward.

  The female youngling took the victim back to the basement as Henry crushed his bloodied mouth to his lover’s. The kiss was sweet with blood and absolute obsession. Turning him around, Henry massaged the ample flesh of the man’s buttocks. He wet his hand with his mouth, ming
ling blood and saliva. Sliding several slick fingers between the warm cheeks of his youngling, he fingered the man’s anus until Henry felt him ready for entrance. Impatient, he dug his fingers into the youngling’s hips and guided him downward.

  “Sit and ride me,” Henry ordered as he began thrusting upward. Turning his attention to the female youngling who had silently returned, he sent another command her way. “Bring another.”

  * * * *

  Mallory and Leigh sat near each other on the roof of the Dragon sisters’ home. They barely touched, yet could feel the vibration of each other’s energy along every inch of skin. They’d been simply enjoying the presence of each other for almost an hour before Mallory spoke.

  “We’re going to have to figure out what’s going to be done about Henry,” she said.

  “I know.”

  Leigh moved closer. Their shoulders bumped together and a chill spread through Mallory’s arm at the contact. Her body responded with arousal at the frost that seemed to rush along her nerve endings. “If he dies, you might become human again,” Mallory said, pressing him. “If you return to human form after so long…what if you die, too?”

  Leigh frowned. He didn’t want to consider the implications of Henry’s death. He didn’t even want it in his mind, because the choice could mean trading his eternity with Mallory for the eradication of his maker’s threat. But she’d brought the issue up. If she wanted to discuss the possibilities, he couldn’t deny her the conversation.

  “It could happen,” Leigh admitted slowly. “I’ve never seen one as old as I am revert from a maker’s death. Henry is the oldest I’ve ever encountered, and I’m supposedly one of his first. There isn’t a precedent for this, Mallory. I need you to know that.”

  “All right,” she said. She picked at the cuticle around one of her fingernails. “And what if you do revert and live? Then I have to watch you die and spend however long alone?”

  He brushed the golden strands of her hair away from her cheek and stroked his hand along her chin. He smiled, though it didn’t inspire one in her. “You came back to me, didn’t you?”

  Mallory’s tension released slightly, making her sag forward with a reluctant smile. “I did,” she said, gripping his hand and holding it to her cheek. “But it took four hundred years, and you were already old by that point. How could I spend that long along?”

  “There is another option,” he told her. The curiosity in her eyes urged him to continue. “You could be my new maker.”

  He didn’t tell her the enormous risk that came with a youngling making a new vampire. He didn’t admit the extremely high chance that improper turning would likely kill him. The hope that flooded her blue eyes was enough for him to hold the information back. She needed to feel they had an option if they took the opportunity to kill Henry when it presented itself to them.

  “I could!” she said, turning and squeezing him around the neck.

  The embrace turned her toward the road, where she could see Dan’s car pulling around the corner. They were done with their reconnaissance.

  “Leigh.” Dread colored her tone, and they parted.

  Vampires followed the car. Dan and Lydia had led them home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lydia saw the shapes slithering through the shadows and knew their progress had been tracked. They were bringing danger back to the house, back to her sisters. Something needed to be done, but there were at least ten vampires, maybe better than a dozen. With no way to transform, the fight would be more difficult than if she could just squash them with her enormous, powerful Dragon body.

  Dan parked the car and felt trapped. They’d brought vampires back to the McKinney household, and he didn’t like their position. As the first vampire hit the passenger side door, Dan caught sight of Mallory and Leigh high up on the house.

  “Leigh, we have to help them,” Mallory exclaimed as she leapt from the roof.

  Leigh took a fraction of a second to appreciate her grace and beauty as she flung herself toward the fray, and then he followed her. The vampires were feral, crazed younglings Henry had abandoned to wreak their havoc on the city. The remaining humans needed to get out. The town had turned to a slaughtering ground.

  With an animalistic growl, Leigh took one of the closest feral vampires and tore it from the vehicle. He didn’t know how well a Fallen would fight against them, but Lydia’s fire would offer them guaranteed, if not entirely predictable, assistance. He wanted her out of the car and in the open where she could be useful.

  “Take those two,” Leigh commanded Mallory as the feral vampires clawed at the driver’s side door. One of them busted the mirror and Leigh counted out the number of enemies. There were fourteen. Fourteen feral vampires against one ancient, one youngling, and one Dragon. If Leigh could get said Dragon out of the car, he liked their odds.

  Mallory slung her fist at the female vampire which had smashed her fist through Dan’s window, showering him with pieces of glass. He turned to cover Lydia, but Leigh had cleared her side and opened her door.

  “Out this way!” Lydia shouted as she grabbed Dan’s hand and pulled. He scrambled over the center console and tumbled out her door. As soon as she stood, Lydia burst into flames. These things were not going to get to her family.

  She grabbed the arm of the vampire closest to her and fire ate up the feral creature’s arm. The male vampire shrieked. The death cry sounded as loud as the whine of a fighter jet. His charcoal-gray eyes lit from within while Lydia glared into them, snarling with all the fury of her natural form. She was a Dragon, and they were in her territory. They were all dust.

  The pile of ash and ember fell to the ground and danced in the light summer breeze while Lydia turned to her second attacker. She saw Jade enter the fray, burning with her own fire. Three more vampires melted down to dust as the Dragon sisters fought. The crazed creatures didn’t register the threat of fire. They didn’t care for anything but sinking their fangs into the opponents they couldn’t realize far overpowered them.

  Mallory pulled a feral vampire off Leigh’s back while he fought two others. She smashed the creature’s head into the pavement, driving it down with as much of her new strength she could utilize. The skull broke into pieces, and the feral vampire flopped around in a dejected dance of death. The protective growl sounded unfamiliar to her ears while it spilled from her throat. The hot rush of bloodlust sang in her veins, different from the drive to drink but just as intoxicating. She joined Leigh against his last two attackers, and they destroyed the crazed bodies, releasing the tormented spirits of Henry’s victims.

  “Help the Fallen,” Leigh told Mallory as he went for one of the vampires attempting to overtake Jade.

  Lydia was already on her way to Dan. She’d burned several vampires to piles of dust. At five, she’d lost count. It could have been seven or nine. She didn’t remember. The feral vampire railing at Dan had shed its clothing after they caught flame from one of its kin. Lydia intended to remedy the lack of fire.

  “Get down,” she shouted at Dan. He ducked down at once, covering his head for good measure.

  Lydia sent a jet of flame toward his attacker. Her aim was solid, and the creature screamed as it burned. Though it remained on its intended path toward Dan, Lydia intercepted the creature and held it by the throat while it burned to death. Lydia noted that the maniac youngling was one of the Mallory look-alikes before the features melted into an unrecognizable pile.

  Dan watched Lydia hold one of the last feral vampires still as it burned and thought she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. Flames encircled her like a gown, moving up to her head as though she wore a tall collar and a circlet of fire. Her hair glowed like lava, her skin pale and luminescent as the moon. He may have known of the presence of a God in Heaven, but he found himself equally sure at least one goddess walked the Earth.

  As soon as the feral vampires had either been broken to unfixable pieces or burned to dust that had already been swept away by the wind, Daria op
ened the door. She had a bundle in her arms that she made her way toward Jade with first.

  “Get back inside, little mother,” Lydia ordered. Her voice sounded gravelly, as it usually did after a bout of flame throwing. “We don’t know if the danger has passed yet.”

  “You did a wonderful job destroying all the hapless creatures, Lydia,” Daria said. Her tone indicated she didn’t like the necessity of killing the vampires who may have been innocent without Henry’s corruption on their souls.

  Lydia frowned. She wanted to reassure her younger sister that she had no blood on her hands for the deaths Henry had caused or had forced them to take part in. The fight had been one of survival. Now that the threat had passed, Lydia could admit to herself that she felt bad about what had to be done.

  The guilt caused her more discomfort than her nudity did, but Dan thought her shivering was due to the destruction of her clothes. Before Daria could bring over her fluffy robe, Dan took one of his long sleeping shirts from a box in the back of his car and handed it to Lydia. She slipped into it with a grateful smile. Though she didn’t allow herself, she wanted to bunch the fabric up and inhale his scent until she was dizzy with it.

  Daria turned to head Lydia’s way, having already ensured Jade’s nakedness was covered. Lydia saw a first-aid kit nestled beneath the chocolate-colored robe Daria had brought out for her. She was such an attentive little healer, Lydia thought. Before she could smile at her ebony-haired sibling, terror turned her blood to ice and a warning burst from her throat.

  “Daria, run!” Lydia hollered.

  With a reaction time slowed by her inherently trusting nature, Daria moved too slowly to avoid the feral vampire that had been hiding in the side yard. Showing more restraint and thinking power than his kin, the creature had waited instead of striking carelessly in the blood fever. But seeing Daria, who looked and smelled like prey instead of a fighter, drained away the last of the feral vampire’s patience and reasoning.