by L. E. Wilson
"Okay," she agreed.
Glancing down at Mojo, who was lying on his back on the pillow, he asked, "Is this where he sleeps?"
"No. Mojo will need to go back into his home." She pointed to an extravagant cage set up against the one wall. It didn't have a top, but it did have multi-levels with little ramps going up to each one, toys, a litter box, and even a little house for him to hide in.
Aiden looked over at the little ball of prickles lying serenely on the other pillow by her foot. It stared back with one beady, black eye, keeping the other one closed.
With a great sigh, he rose, picked up the little rodent, pillow and all, and gingerly slid Mojo off of it and into his cage. The little guy huffed a few times, then waddled off into his house.
A muffled noise behind him had him turning to find Grace giggling behind her hand.
He struck an indignant pose. "Are you laughing at me, poppet?"
At that, she burst out into full-fledged guffaws, telling him, "It's just...so funny...to see a grown man -and a vampire at that! - afraid of...a few little spines!"
"I'm not afraid!" he insisted, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. "Just because I dislike being stabbed for no good reason."
And besides, I prefer being the one doing the poking, he thought to himself.
She started giggling all over again. "Which is why you just happened to wander into a war..."
He didn't know what was so bloody amusing. Leaving her to her cackling, he wandered over to the walk-in closet. "Any chance you have some men's clothes in here that might fit me?" As she wiped at the tears on her face, he took it upon himself to start rummaging through her stuff.
He was elbow deep in a particularly interesting section of silky things that still smelled faintly of her skin when she said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you. I think I'm just overtired. Look in the dresser on the right, against the wall under the hanging clothes. Third drawer down. There may be something in there that will fit."
Dropping his handful of silkies with regret, he yanked open the indicated drawer. It was full of her workout clothes, and, at the very bottom, a few pairs of men's black nylon running pants and T-shirts.
As he sorted through them, he asked her, "How did the rat get into that bag anyway?"
When nothing but stony silence answered his question, he poked his head out to find her staring at him stonily at him from the couch.
Rolling his eyes, he corrected himself. "How did the bloody hedgehog get into that bag anyway?" Hands full of clothes, he pointed with his chin to the bag in question, sitting on the floor at the end of the couch where it'd been dropped.
Narrowing her eyes at him in warning, she replied, "Mojo was in my little tote bag I have for him when I stopped at a restaurant to get something to eat. I set him on the floor, and when I was finished and stood up to leave, I picked up his bag only to notice he wasn't in it anymore. There weren't that many people there that late, just a couple on a date and that group of Suits I followed. When I couldn't find him anywhere, I saw them leaving and thought I saw the bag move. So I followed them to that empty building."
"And you left your tote bag at the restaurant?"
Her eyes widened as realization hit her. "Shit! I did. Dammit, that was my last one. I'll have to go pick up more."
Aiden quirked an eyebrow. "I'm just going to rinse off, if that's all right?" He didn't wait for her okay, but left her groaning to herself on the couch and took his new clothes into the loo.
Leaving the door cracked open an inch in case she needed him, he stripped off his dusty clothes and stepped gratefully under the hot spray. Rolling his head around on his neck, he let the water rinse off the dust and sludge, groaning aloud as it ran down the grooves of his muscular body.
Spotting the various bottles on the built-in shower shelves, he grabbed one, opened it, and smelled the contents. It smelled like her hair, and the constant burning of his gums, an unexpected and ever-present problem since he'd first found her, worsened, his fangs even sliding down a bit.
Pouring some of the herbal shampoo in his hand, he scrubbed his head and rinsed. Finding the body wash, he started scouring himself quickly, trying not to think of how the scent of the soap he was using smelled when it was warmed from her lovely peaches-n-cream skin. He'd bet his right fang that skin was as smooth and soft as it looked. It would be like warm silk under his hands and mouth.
He smothered a different kind of groan as his blood heated and his cock twitched, but he resisted the urge to take the hard length in his hand and ease some of this tension. Somehow, he knew that it would only make it all worse. Gritting his teeth, he quickly rinsed off his now throbbing cock and moved on.
What the bloody hell was he doing here anyway? He could be showering in a hotel right now while he waited on a plane ride home to Seattle.
He should already be on his way back to his family, doing his job, not running around rescuing silly boot brushes.
He should be trying to figure out what happened to him and how he got here, not how to shag the crumpet in the next room, intriguing as she was.
She didn't need him anymore. He'd helped her get her Mojo back and had gotten them both home safe and sound.
He should be on the phone with Nikulas, arranging his ride home. There were plenty of other, more willing, females in the world. This...pull he felt towards her would go away as soon as there was some distance between them.
He scowled at the shower wall. She made him FEEL things. He didn't like it.
He would call Nik first thing tonight, as soon as he woke up.
Mind made up, he turned off the water, grabbed her towel off the rack and dried off, then threw on his newly acquired shirt and trousers. He'd have to ask about washing his stuff. He couldn't spend the rest of his time here "going commando" as they say, at least not comfortably, and he hated shopping. Besides, he wasn't going to be here long enough to warrant doing so.
Be that as it may, as long as he was here, he needed to take a look into that bag tonight after he made that phone call.
***
Grace watched from under lowered lids, pretending to be asleep, as Aiden came out of the bathroom and headed towards her. Even through her lashes, she could see that her ex-boyfriend's clothes looked way hotter on him then they ever had on her ex.
Whereas Jim, her Swedish-born, computer geek ex-boyfriend, had those clothes here only to impress her by working out with her when he'd stayed over (which hadn't been often), Aiden already had the physique to make them look good.
She squeezed her eyes shut and snored lightly for effect as he treaded soundlessly over to her in his bare feet.
He lifted the ice from her ankle, and she cracked her eyes open again, watching him as he leaned closer and touched her bruise with light fingers.
A concerned frown creased his brow as he took the towel to the kitchen, put more ice in it, then placed it gently back on her swollen ankle.
He made no sound at all as he walked over to the window and peeked through the shades. If she hadn't been watching, she would never know he was even in the room. After a long moment, he turned away from the window, picked up the crocheted blanket from the rocking chair, and covered her with it. He tucked it around her, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then he stole Mojo's pillow.
She managed to keep her breathing steady through it all. Her eyes followed him as he took his pillow into the closet, dug around for another blanket on one of the shelves, and then shut the closet door behind him against the oncoming sunlight.
Maybe she should've used the bathroom again before he went in there. She rolled over and pulled the blanket up around her while she thought about tiptoeing around a sleeping vampire in the middle of the day. The image made her shiver under her blanket.
What if he woke up? Would he know that it was her? Would he be hungry? Or thirsty? Or whatever? She had to admit, with her luck, it was more likely that the worst thing that would happen is that she'd forget he was there and fall
over him.
She wondered if he looked dead when he slept, which he pretty much was, right?
She'd just have to hold it until sundown, that's all.
Her ankle throbbed and she sat up to adjust the ice. The thought crossed her mind that she could use her insignificant magic to heal it, which was pretty much all it was good for, but then decided against it for now. Magic took a lot out of her. And if Aiden happened to come out again and surprised her while she was in the middle of a healing spell, she might end up breaking her bones instead of healing them.
Besides, she wasn't ready for him to find out what a freak she was.
When all had been quiet for a good thirty minutes or so, she got up as quietly as she could. Hobbling over to the kitchen, she found the large container of salt where she kept it hidden in one of the lower cabinets.
Beginning in the corner at the far end of the kitchen, she limped her way around the entire apartment, pouring salt along the edge of the floor where it hit the wall. When she was finished, there was a complete circle enclosing the room she was in.
She glanced at the closed closet door, but she couldn't risk waking him up to contain him inside the circle. Not without exposing herself.
Besides, if what her mother had told her was true, she couldn't depend on him to help her. She'd have to take care of herself. And he was a vampire. He was perfectly capable of defending himself. Those things never came out during the day anyway.
This would just have to do.
Chapter Eight
Luukas watched his brother run his hand through his blond hair in frustration as he watched the video footage from their security cameras around the building. They'd been sitting there in the office for hours, pouring over the tapes, phone records, and statements from the security team at their apartments, trying to figure out what the hell had happened to the other Hunters.
They'd come up with absolutely nothing. They'd disappeared into thin air.
"Three Hunters," Nik gritted out. "Just fucking gone. All within a few hours of each other, and all without a trace. They just vanished off the face of the earth. How is that possible?"
"Let's go over everything again," Luukas told him. He didn't know what good it would do, but he had to do something. Maybe they'd missed some small clue somewhere.
As Nik straightened out the notes he'd been taking that were strewn haphazardly across the desk, he glanced out the glass wall towards the living room, where he could see his Keira and her sister. She and Emma were "practicing", and their magic filled the air of the apartment as one of the lamps floated across the room. Clapping her hands with excitement, Keira urged her sister on as she managed to gently set it on the opposite table.
His heart swelled and his soul quieted as he watched his witch, even as his body tensed in fear.
After all he'd gone through, and all he'd suffered because of her sorcery, it still set him on edge. He couldn't help it. The only time he felt in control was when he had her flat on her back on the bed, or against the wall, or in the shower...
His body hardened immediately at the thought, and his gums burned as his fangs slid down a fraction, anticipating the taste of her.
"Luuk? Did you hear me?"
He tore his eyes reluctantly from the voluptuous curves of his raven-haired mate, giving his brother his full attention. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
Nikulas repeated what he'd just said. "I just found something."
Joining his brother on the other side of the desk, Luukas stood next to him and leaned onto the desk to watch the computer monitor.
"That's Dante," he stated. "Is that our garage? Here?"
"Yes. I've been studying the footage from the hallways, the foyer, and the street entrance so much I almost missed this one. Now watch."
Luukas watched as a black van came to a screeching halt just as it passed the leather-clad Dante. Two men spilled out of the side door and approached him on either side. As Dante turned to confront the one, the other snuck up behind him and jabbed something into his neck. The massive Hunter went down like a toppling building.
Another human jumped out of the driver's side, and together, they managed to get the vampire into the back. They all got back in and the van took off out of the garage.
It had all gone down in less than two minutes.
Luukas straightened up.
"Where was the security guard?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell going to find out," Nik seethed.
"Back up the tape again. Let's see if we can get a plate number," he ordered.
"You got it, bro."
Luukas wandered over to the window while his brother rewound the tape.
One Hunter found, two more to go.
And he had no doubt they would find Dante. That little clue was all he needed. Luukas would search every nook and cranny of this earth relentlessly until he found him.
He knew his Hunters were still alive. Dante, Shea, and Christian. He was their creator, he would know if anything had happened to them. He could feel their essence, and he would feel it if they left him.
"Got it," Nik exclaimed.
"Ok. Let's find our Hunter."
Nik paused his fingers on the keyboard. "What about the others, Luuk? We still haven't found a damn thing on them. We've only got the video of them leaving their apartments. Alone."
"Although," he added as an afterthought, "It did look like Shea was looking for the guys. But that only tells us that she was the last one to be taken, if that's what happened."
"They're still alive. Let's focus on finding Dante and then maybe we'll have an idea of what happened to Shea and Christian."
"Yeah, ok." Nik's fingers started flying over the keyboard again, searching for info on the plate number. "I'm not as good at this as Aiden," he told Luuk. "But I can find out who owns this van, and we'll go from there."
Luukas held his hands behind his back and gazed out at his city, his mind racing ahead. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Leeha were the one behind the abductions.
He really should have burned her along with her father.
Chapter Nine
Dante sat in one of the troop seats towards the back of the aircraft, keeping a close eye on the three human men holding him at gunpoint. The way he figured it, only two out of the three were a real threat: The bald one who'd been driving the van they'd kidnapped him in, and the pilot of the V-22 Osprey they'd brought him to.
However, somebody had to fly the fucking thing. Which would bring the threat down to one.
"Don't bother strapping yourself in," Baldy sneered at him. "You ain't gonna be with us when we land."
Ignoring him, Dante focused on the one he was going to take out first - the chicken shit who'd pissed himself in the van when he'd broken free of the chains.
Or maybe he should take out Baldy first? But then he would be taking the chance that Chicken Shit would shoot him with one of those exploding bullets they claimed to have. He doubted his aim was very good, especially with the way he was shaking, but he might get lucky.
Decisions, decisions.
The pilot he would definitely save for last. By the time he figured out what was going on, it would be too late. He could smell another human in the aircraft, probably the co-pilot waiting in the cockpit.
Dante rubbed a hand over his shaved head as he contemplated his choices.
A loud "click" echoed in the silence, and he dropped it onto his lap again.
Baldy smacked Chicken Shit in the back of his greasy head. "What the fuck are you doin'? Trying to blow up the fuckin' plane? Jesus fucking Christ."
Chicken Shit turned on him. "You gave me an empty gun?" he yelled incredulously. He pulled the trigger again and again. The empty chamber clicked loudly.
He finally gave up and threw his arms in the air. "No bullets? You gave me a gun with no bullets? What the fuck?"
"Calm the fuck down," Baldy told him. "Of course I didn't give you any bullets. Look at you! He barely moves and y
ou're trying to blow a hole in the plane just now!"
Well, that decided things. Baldy needed to go first, as he was the only one that was armed other than the pilot.
"Holy shit." Chicken Shit dropped his gun to the floor where it landed with a clank and ran his hands nervously through his hair. His eyes flew wildly around the plane.
"Relax," Baldy told him without taking his eyes off of Dante. "Nothin's gonna happen."
"Do you need me to leave this with you?" the pilot asked, indicating his own weapon. "Don has another one up front."
Don. The co-pilot.
Dante smiled. The more the merrier.
"Nah," Baldy told the pilot. "I got this. Let's go."
Chicken Shit sank into one of the front seats and dropped his head into his hands as the pilot disappeared into the cockpit.
"I'm gonna fuckin' die. I'm gonna fuckin' die," he mumbled.
Baldy sat down next to him and leaned back. Placing his ankle on his opposite knee, he rested his forearm on his leg and steadied the gun on Dante.
"Might as well get comfy," he told him. "We got about a two-hour flight ahead of us."
Dante felt his first inkling of nervousness as the aircraft taxied onto the runway and lifted into the air. He figured a two-hour flight could mean one of two things: They were either taking him to Vegas, or they were going to dump him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Neither of which would end well for him.
And he doubted Baldy was looking for a new gambling partner.
"Don't talk much, do ya?" he asked Dante.
Chicken Shit had cinched himself in and was now bouncing one leg nervously while he chewed on a thumbnail.
Dante narrowed his eyes on him while keeping Baldy within view out of the corner of his eye. All he needed was a half a second. A half a second when Baldy thought he wasn't paying attention to him and his guard would slip.
They traveled in silence for a good hour or more before Baldy got bored again.
"So what's it like? Being a parasite? Living off the blood of innocent people like a fuckin' mosquito?"