by Cynthia Eden
He wrenched his mouth from her neck. “Jane?”
Her breath sawed out of her lungs. She peered up at him from beneath her lashes.
“Your…your neck…” He stumbled back and rammed into the brick wall. “I bit you.” His face reflected his horror.
Her hand lifted to her neck, and Jane felt the blood drops there. “It’s okay, Aidan.” She tried to make her voice soothing.
But he shook his head, once, hard. “No, no, it’s not. I drank your blood.”
“Aidan…”
His hands were at his sides and she could see the claws curling from his fingertips. His eyes were glowing, such a bright, intense blue. A blue that seemed to pierce Jane right to her soul.
“I bit you…and I want to do it again.”
Her lips parted in surprise. She reached out to him once more.
“Don’t touch me.”
Her hand stilled, hanging in the air between their bodies.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was stilted. Not Aidan’s. A stranger’s. “And if you touch me…” That glow in his gaze just deepened. “I think I will.”
They stood there, staring at each other, a cold and dark stand-off. Jane tried to figure out what to say to Aidan. Their lives were too twisted. They had to get everything straightened out.
But…as she stared into his eyes, she saw a beast staring back at her, a beast with the claws of a werewolf and the bloodlust of a vampire. Fear slid down Jane’s spine. She’d trusted Aidan completely because she knew his control was always in place. Yet right then, she could see his control unraveling before her eyes.
And an Aidan without control…
He will be a monster.
She shook her head against the thought. No, no, Aidan was not a monster. He was hers. Her friend. Her lover. Her—
Jane made herself reach out to him. “We’re going to be okay.”
But Aidan gave a hard shake of his head.
Before her fingers could touch him, the scream of a siren broke the early morning silence.
Jane flinched at that sound, caught off-guard for an instant because she’d been so lost in Aidan. She thought the sound would die away after a moment, but…it grew louder. Her head turned and her heart kept racing in her chest as she saw the patrol car approaching.
Aidan swore and he turned his back on that car. She wondered if he was trying to hide his fangs.
Or maybe his claws.
The patrol car braked to a stop just a few feet away. The door opened and a uniformed cop leapt out.
“Detective Hart!”
She recognized the cop hailing her. It was Mason Mitchell, one of the more fresh-faced members of the New Orleans PD.
“Dr. Heider told me you were here.” He rushed toward her, his breath panting out a bit. His eyes were wide, worried. “You would not believe the stories I heard circulating about you! Some people were even saying you were dead.”
Aidan gave a rough laugh, but he didn’t turn to look at the young cop.
“We have a problem,” Mason told her. “A big one. I-I tried to reach you last night as soon as the call came in, but then that six alarm fire broke out—”
He was rambling. She’d worked a few cases with Mason before and she knew that when he got nervous, he rambled. “Mason.” She said his name with a hint of warning.
He blinked. “Right.” He licked his lips. “I’m…I’m sorry to tell you, Detective Hart, but there was an incident at the Hathway Psychiatric Facility yesterday.”
Jane shook her head. No, no, this could not be happening. There had to be a limit to the amount of absolute shit that a person could deal with during a twenty-four hour period. She was at her limit, thank you very much.
“Your brother…he attacked the guard that Captain Harris had left with him and he—Drew Hart escaped.”
“No,” Jane snapped out the denial. “He’s not out. He can’t be out.”
Mason nodded. “I’m sorry…but he is, ma’am. We’ve got a search going for him. But, considering that he attacked you and, ah…” His gaze cut to Aidan’s tense back. “Mr. Locke over there, I thought you two would want to take precautions.”
Jane pressed a hand to her chest. Her galloping heartbeat hurt. Drew won’t stop. If he’s out, he’ll be coming for me and Aidan. “What happened to the guard?”
“Drew used a chunk of broken mirror to slice his throat and stab him in the stomach. The guard survived the attack, though I sure as hell don’t know how,” Mason admitted starkly.
He survived because he’s a werewolf, and werewolves are harder to kill than humans.
“You want to help with the search?” Mason pushed. “Captain Harris…she’s on her way to the station. She radioed me and asked me to bring you in.”
Right. Going back in. Hunting Drew. Another day…
Another nightmare.
“Go, Jane,” Aidan said, still not turning to look at her.
“But what about Paris?” She didn’t want to leave. He would need her. He would—
“He’s my pack. I’ll take care of him.”
Her gaze shot to Mason. Had he heard Aidan? Heard the word “pack” spoken so easily?
But…no, Mason was just standing there, waiting patiently. He didn’t look suspicious or scared. That was good, right?
She hoped it was good.
“You could be in danger, Mr. Locke,” Mason said. The guy was so earnest it was almost cute. “Do you want a protective detail? Do you—”
Aidan laughed and finally turned to face the younger man. Jane was relieved that his claws and fangs were out of sight. And his eyes…they only shone a little bit. Just enough that his gaze was unnerving. “I want the bastard to come after me.”
“Uh, sir?” Mason swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, I heard that the scene at the college was crazy when he was firing, but that the guy was aiming for you—”
“I want him to come,” Aidan said again, “because I want to end him.”
Mason straightened his thin shoulders. “You can’t talk like that, Mr. Locke. People can’t take justice into their own hands. People can’t—”
“Stop.”
Jane shivered. That one word had been infused with power, the deep, twisting, sinister power of an alpha werewolf. The power to control a human. Completely. “Aidan,” Jane began.
“Drew Hart tried to kill Jane. To me, that gives him a death sentence. Family or not.” Aidan’s gaze cut to Jane. “If he comes for me, I will fight back.”
I will kill him. She knew what he was saying and she also knew—Drew would be coming for Aidan. Her brother had so much hate and rage twisted up inside of him. He wasn’t going to stop.
And if Drew faced off against Aidan…her brother will die.
That’s why I have to find him first.
Before the blood started to flow.
“I’m coming with you,” Jane said to Mason, rushing toward him.
He nodded, but then his gaze dropped to her neck. “Detective Hart, I think you’re hurt.”
Aidan cursed.
Jane shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding. We should take you to a doctor—”
“Just give me the keys to your car.” Because there was nothing a doctor could do for her. He tossed the keys to her and Jane caught them. Before she jumped into the patrol vehicle, she looked back at Aidan. He was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes on her. Once upon a time, she’d asked him to promise not to kill Drew.
He’d refused to make that promise.
“Don’t let your heart make you weak, Jane.” Aidan’s voice easily reached her. Mason was already in the vehicle, so she hoped he didn’t hear the words. “Your brother doesn’t see you as human. You’re the enemy. He won’t hesitate to kill you.”
She knew he was right.
“So you shouldn’t hesitate, either,” Aidan said.
Jane slid into the car.
And she hated that Aidan was right.
Chapter Eight
Aidan watched as the cop car sped away from the scene, then he turned on his heel and headed back into the old BDSM club. The place reeked. It fucking reminded him of hell, and his best friend was chained up in that place?
This can’t go on.
He marched to the back of the building and found Annette still crouched beside Paris. The voodoo queen was whispering softly to him, and Aidan could have sworn he saw the spark of magic in the air.
At the sound of his approaching footsteps, Annette whirled around. Fear flashed on her face as she stared at him. “No!” Annette yelled. “You said you wouldn’t kill him! You said—”
“I’m not here to kill him.” Aidan strode toward her and he stepped over the line of dirt she’d carefully cast on the floor. “I’m here to help him.” Yeah, they could sit there all day, twiddling their thumbs and waiting on Vincent’s witch to arrive, and with every moment that passed, Paris would get worse or…
Or we can try to fix him. “When he had my blood before, Paris had a moment of clarity. I saw it.”
“You mean the moment when he asked you to kill him?” Annette cried.
Yeah, that fucking moment. “He wasn’t a blood-crazed monster then.”
“He was a suicidal fool!”
“He needs more clarity.” Clarity equaled strength, right? “He needs more blood. My blood.”
“Aidan…”
“I keep a supply of my blood on hand for any injured wolves. He’s injured.” In the worst possible way. “I’ll call Garrison and get him to bring it here. The blood can help him.” It had to help him. “And that blood…it isn’t tainted.”
“Tainted?”
Aidan swallowed. “The blood I have stored at the werewolf compound was taken before I gave Jane my blood.” He paused and had to starkly confess, “And before I took hers.”
He heard the sharp inhalation of her breath. “You’ve been drinking from Jane?”
He knew that Annette had seen more paranormal creatures and events than most people could imagine. And, well, if anyone could help him…
My money isn’t on Vincent’s witch. I’ll always bet on the voodoo queen. He smiled at her, baring what he knew were vampire fangs.
She backed up a step.
“Seems I’ve developed an appetite for blood.” No denying it. No pretending. “But I’m still an alpha werewolf.” The change at the ME’s lab had proved that. Only an alpha werewolf could shift into the form of the beast. Other werewolves got some nice bonuses—increased strength, claws—but they couldn’t fully shift. That gift was reserved for alphas alone.
Gift, curse…all in the way you look at it.
When he’d been younger, Aidan had thought it was a gift. When he’d met Jane…
Curse. Because being an alpha had just been another reason for them to stay apart.
“You’re definitely not a full-on vamp,” Annette mused as she cocked her head, studying him. “If you were, you could never cross the dirt of the dead.”
Maybe but… “Darkness is growing within me.” He could feel it. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold it in check.” One thing was for certain—he knew an alpha wasn’t ever meant to be a vampire. Not even some fucking partial vamp like he seemed to be. “It’s like the two halves are battling inside of me.” Tearing him apart. “And I don’t know which side is going to win.”
Fear flashed on her face, and he knew Annette wasn’t afraid of many things. “Aidan…”
“I think the fire was the tipping point for me.” For him, for Paris. “Jane thought she saved me, that she got me out in time…”
But…
The fire was eating my flesh. The pain was destroying me.
Her hand reached out and her fingers lightly feathered over his shoulder. “But you died, didn’t you?”
He just stared at her. “Wherever I went,” and he wasn’t going to touch that, “Jane brought me back.”
“Aidan…the things that are happening…they aren’t natural.”
He had to laugh as his gaze cut once more to his friend. “Like any of us have ever been natural.” Aidan turned from her. The bloodlust had built within him again. It was there now, almost constant. But he was fighting it. He was controlling it.
For the moment.
How long will my control last?
“Werewolves are natural. You weren’t made, you were born to be a wolf,” Annette said softly.
His lips twisted. “By that logic, Jane was born to be a vampire.” The bullshit line that Vincent had once told him.
“Yes.” Annette nodded. “I think she was. But then Jane met you and everything changed.”
He looked back at Paris. His friend was still out cold. “He didn’t want this change. It should never have happened to him.” Rage pushed inside of Aidan. “I want you to scry, Annette. Go back to the fire. See everything—see what in the hell happened to him.” Because death alone—no, that wouldn’t have changed Paris. Something else had.
Someone else?
Annette gave a bitter laugh. “If only I could.” Then she pointed to a few broken chunks of black glass. “Those are all that remain of my mirror. I can barely see the danger around us, much less look into the past. That’s why I arrived too late to help Paris.” Her voice thickened. “If there had been a way, if I’d known what was coming, I never would have let him have this end.”
This end…The end.
Aidan exhaled slowly. “I’ll get Garrison to bring the blood for him. It will tide Paris over, for the time being. Maybe he can become coherent enough to tell us what the hell happened to him.”
Aidan whirled and headed for the door.
“You…are a good friend to him.”
He stiffened at her words. “Bullshit.” Aidan glanced back over his shoulder. “A good friend would have done what he asked. A good friend would have ended his torment.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m just the selfish bastard who doesn’t want to lose the only true brother he’s ever known. I won’t give him up, not without a fight.”
And he wouldn’t give in to the darkness growing inside of him, he wouldn’t lose his fucking self. He’d fight, for as long as it took.
He’d fight.
***
There was blood staining the floor at the Hathway Psychiatric Facility. Jane paced in what had been her brother’s room, but her gaze kept darting to that giant stain of red.
I broke the mirror. I gave him a weapon.
And he hadn’t hesitated to use it.
“It’s a miracle the guard is alive,” Mason said.
Jane glanced over at him. They’d been briefed at the station, and then they’d rushed over to the psychiatric hospital because Jane had wanted to see the scene firsthand. With her enhanced senses, she’d thought that maybe she’d discover something the crime scene techs had overlooked.
“A wound like that,” Mason continued, his gaze on the blood stain, “it should’ve killed him.”
If the guard had been human, it would’ve killed him.
Mason’s gaze rose to hold hers. “Lucky him, huh?”
There was a faint edge to his words. Jane’s eyes narrowed. She’d brought Mason with her because the kid genuinely seemed to have strong instincts, but there was something about his voice, his body language…
Does Mason know? Had he realized just what was really happening in this city? Aidan hadn’t exactly been subtle during their last chat. Jane cleared her throat. “I doubt he feels particularly lucky. I mean, the guy’s throat was sliced open and he was left for dead. I doubt that will go down as his best day ever.”
She paced toward the bathroom. The broken shards of the mirror were all gone now. No doubt, they’d been carefully bagged and tagged. She’d already read the report about Drew’s escape. He’d attacked the poor guard, nearly killed him. Then Drew had used the guard’s keys to gain access to the man’s locker. Her brother had stolen the clothes f
rom that locker right before he’d vanished.
Drew was clever, she’d give him that.
Clever and quite possibly insane.
“So how’d you turn out so normal,” Mason asked as Jane crouched down to study the floor of the bathroom. “And your brother is…well, not?”
She rose. “Don’t be too sure I’m the normal one.” If only. Dammit, there was nothing to see in that room. No new clue for her to pounce on. Jane headed for the door.
But then she stilled. For just an instant, she could hear her brother raging at her again.
I didn’t leave you! When the vampire had you in our basement. When he was burning your skin and you were crying, I didn’t leave you. I got you out of there. I saved your life.
“He wasn’t always a monster,” she whispered. Once, he’d been a hero, but that had been very, very long ago.
Mason’s footsteps shuffled closer to her. “In my experience,” he said quietly, “no one is born a monster. Folks just…they become monsters. They can’t deal with the world around them. They change. Not always for the better.”
She looked back at him. Mason had been involved with several of her cases. She could still remember the way the poor guy had vomited when he’d found a young woman’s body on Bourbon Street. He’d been so horrified. “Why’d you become a cop, Mason?”
He gave her a quick, nervous smile. “Because I want to save the world.”
She stared at him. Hard. Looking for the truth, searching for lies.
“I know it’s stupid,” he continued, running a nervous hand over his jaw. “But…I do. I want to help. When my parents were killed, cops helped me.”
Jane blinked. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know about your parents.”
“I was sixteen.” He spoke without emotion. “We were all in the bank—my dad’s payday. He was cashing his check and then we were going out for dinner. We did that, you see. Had our weekly family dinners. They were mom’s idea. Said they gave us quality time.” That smile of his was bittersweet. “No one could have predicted the bank robbery. Or the security guard who panicked. No one knew that the guy in the ski mask would start shooting. No one knew my parents…they’d be the first ones hit.”