Twilight Vendetta

by Maggie Shayne

  “Thank you, Devlin,” she whispered.

  She was lying on her side, her head on his chest, her leg bent over his. He lay on his back, his arm around her, holding her near.

  “Thank you, Emma.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma took him all the way back to her hometown, with a brief stop at her father’s house, which had been trashed by DPI crows.

  It was rather sad, walking through the mess.

  “It doesn’t look as if they took much, at least,” Devlin said.

  Emma said, “All Dad’s radio equipment. Both computers. It’s enough.”

  “Was there a lot of what they would consider incriminating evidence on the computers?”

  “God no. My father is a genius.” She shook her head. “He’s got backup hard drives secreted away in places I don’t even know about. But there is one thing I do know about.” She walked through the living room, into the kitchen, where there was a lot less destruction. Then she opened a canister and dug around in the sugar it held. Eventually, she pulled out the keys that were hidden there. Two of them hung on a small key ring with a heart shaped locket charm dangling from it. Using her thumbnail, she pried open the locket, revealing the tiny photograph of a beautiful woman, copper red hair that tumbled in careless ringlets around her face. Full lips, blue blue eyes. It wasn’t the same picture as the one in her own locket, but her mother looked just the same.

  “She’s beautiful, Emma.”

  “I know.” She blinked rapidly, maybe against moisture.

  “And what are the keys for?” he asked to distract her from her heartache.

  “My mom’s other baby. We don’t want to travel across the country on foot, do we?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Come on, then.”

  Her mom’s other baby turned out to be a red and white 1962 Corvette convertible in the same condition it had probably been in on the showroom floor. It was in a storage unit, all by itself, covered in padded throws to keep it safe. One of the keys on Emma’s key ring opened the unit. The other started the engine. It fired up easily and purred. Her father had clearly taken very care of the car. Perhaps he, too, had been expecting to reunite with his wife one day, vampire or not.

  That DPI had robbed Emma and her father of that chance made Devlin’s blood boil.

  But riding in that car beside her in the dark of night, with the top down and the wind in his hair, that made it sing. They drove all night that first night, as they would for many nights to come. She seemed to thrill in being behind the wheel of her mother’s machine. He thrilled in being there beside her, watching her eyes gleam as the wind whipped her hair. “She must have been adventurous, like you,” he observed as they sped along a deserted midnight highway.

  “I never thought of her that way. Then again, I was a kid. What did I know? I saw her as Mom. The lady who did my laundry and told me to eat all my broccoli. I remember she loved this car, though. She’d never let anyone else drive it. Not even my dad.”

  “Really? Did he want to?”

  She smiled, but it was a sad expression. “I doubt it. He would’ve been afraid he’d break it or something. Dad was never the muscle-car type.” Then, tipping her head to one side, “After she left, he told me that before I was born, before they were even married, she would take it to drag races. None of the boys wanted to race against a girl, or so they claimed. But Dad said it was more that they didn’t want to lose to a girl, and Mom always won.”

  “So that’s why you were so determined to drive in a drag race that night you almost got yourself killed.”

  “A blowout almost got me killed,” she said. “I’d have been fine if the tires had been in the shape they should’ve.”

  She drove a little farther in silence, lost in her own thoughts, he suspected. Maybe about her mother. And then she said, “I’m starving. And I want to be strong as hell when we get to White Plains. Do you suppose we could find a blood bank somewhere?”

  “There’s one right there,” he said with a nod.

  She followed his gaze and frowned. “All I see is a truck stop.”

  “All night dining for the weary traveler. Go ahead, pull in.”

  Emma put on her signal and eased the car into the right lane, and eventually onto the off ramp and into the truck stop’s parking area. “I’m angry with humans for what they did to my mother, Dev, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to just launch a midnight feeding frenzy at a sleepy truck stop.”

  “No frenzy. Just feeding.” He got out of the car and waited. “Do you trust me?”

  It was a great question. Did she trust him? He’d got himself captured to get her out of DPI’s clutches. He’d risked his life to rescue her from the bastards. He’d been furious enough to kill them all. And he hadn’t given her a hard time for nearly killing that wounded crow while questioning him about her mom. He hadn’t even given her any grief about the secrets she’d been keeping. Her blog, her book. They were going to have to talk about that sooner or later.

  “I do trust you,” she said at length.

  “It took a while for you to reach that conclusion.” He pretended offense.

  She shrugged. “That should tell you that I took my time to consider it and gave you an honest answer. I wonder, do you trust me?”

  His eyes widened a little at the question.

  “Aha!” she said. “You don’t, do you?”

  “I haven’t trusted anyone in a very long time, Emma,” he said at length. “And to be honest, when Tavia told me what she’d found on your tablet–”

  “Tavia. I knew I made a mistake leaving my tablet behind.”

  He shrugged. “She sensed you were keeping secrets. And she was right.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, she was right. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But Devlin, I couldn’t take the chance that you’d be furious enough to send me away. And finding my mother and rescuing my father meant more to me than being honest with you did.”

  He nodded twice. “I understand that. But you can’t go around posting our secrets on public blogs.”

  “I didn’t tell any secrets!”

  “Everything is a secret. Everything we say and do. Every ability they don’t already know about. Every weakness they haven’t figured out. Anything you post about us can be used as ammunition against us, and a book…? Emma a book is out of the question.”

  She chewed her lip. “You can’t tell me what do to,” she said. Then she lifted her chin, met his eyes. “But in this case, I’m beginning to see your point. And I’m rethinking everything.”

  He said, “Then I’ll answer your question. Despite everything, Emma, I think I trust you more than anyone I currently know.”

  She made a face and wished the words “think” and “currently” hadn’t been in that statement. Then she shrugged and said, “Guess I’ll take what I can get.” She looked around the parking lot they’d pulled into. She was still behind the wheel. He was leaning against the car on her side. “So tell me, Devlin, what are we doing here?”

  “You need to learn about your nature. Your power. We might as well use this road trip to teach you. And tonight, we begin. Come on.”

  He held out a hand.

  She took it, loving the feeling of it closing around hers. Strong, big, certain. He led her toward the rear of the truck stop where semis were parked side by side. They stayed in the shadows, moving quickly and silently, seen by absolutely no one.

  “Search for a human who is alone out here,” he told her. “Use your mind to locate them. Go on, try it.”

  Frowning, she looked at one truck, focused hard, but felt nothing. Then she said, “It’s not working. I don’t feel anything in that truck.”

  “That’s because it’s empty. Keep going. Find one that isn’t.”

  She was surprised, but kept on going, probing into one rig after another, certain her mind wasn’t picking up on anything at all, until she came to the farthest one away and felt a human male snoring softly in his truck’s
sleeper.

  “That one,” she said at length. And when she looked at Devlin, he nodded in approval even though she was sure he’d known within seconds of their arrival here where the sleeping mortal was.

  “Come on, then,” he said, tugging her toward that truck.

  She resisted. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. These people haven’t done anything to us.”

  He stopped and met her eyes. “I give you my word as a vampire, we’re not going to hurt anyone tonight.”

  She held his gaze, then finally nodded. “All right.”

  They continued to the truck, which was large and dark green and had a bulldog mounted to its hood. Devlin said, “Now, try to focus on the man in the truck. Do that until you connect to him alone, closing out all the other noise that comes in when you open your mind. Focus just on him, and when you feel you’ve connected, tell him to come out.”

  Emma looked at the truck, took a deep breath, and thought of the man sleeping inside. She closed her eyes, opening her mind, and immediately the sounds of countless thoughts and conversations came rushing in like a flood, but she just kept focusing, searching for the man in the truck. She would know him when she found him, she thought. And sure enough, she did. He was tired, very soundly asleep, not even dreaming. She followed that feeling right into his mind, and then she thought, Get up and come outside. I need to talk to you. But don’t wake. Just get up and come outside.

  Then she waited. And it wasn’t fifteen seconds before the truck’s door opened, and the man climbed down, dressed in boxers and a T-shirt, eyes open but unseeing, mouth slightly agape.

  Very good, Emma.

  I can’t believe it worked! So now what?

  Devlin looked at her, crooked one brow. Now, you feed.

  But you said we wouldn’t hurt anyone!

  You’re not going to hurt him, Emma. It’s going to feel like heaven to him. And you won’t take enough to do him any harm. No more than he’d give at a blood drive. Go on. Keep feeling him as you drink, so you’ll know he’s in no pain. And tell him he’s having a dream so he doesn’t wake up halfway through.

  Swallowing hard, Emma stepped forward. This is all just a dream, my friend, she told the sleepwalker with her mind. It’s not going to hurt at all. It’s just a dream. Don’t wake up. Stay asleep.

  She was standing nose to nose with him by then, and she looked at his neck, saw the soft pulsing of his jugular, and her mouth watered. Okay, she was into this now. She leaned in, tipping her head sideways, lowering her hands ever so carefully to his shoulders. She expected he would startle awake when she bit him, but Devlin was there to back her up if he put up a fight. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, parted her lips...

  ...and sank her fangs into his throat.

  The blood came then, and with the first drop, the blood lust came with it. Her eyes heated, her mouth sucked greedily, and the lifeblood flowed into her, setting her cells to tingling, then throbbing. Every part of her came alive with hunger and not just for blood. There was a sexual hunger that came with it. The two went hand in hand, and she imagined letting the human’s limp body fall to the ground, then turning and ripping Devlin’s clothes off. And beyond and beneath all that, she felt her victim. She felt his homesickness, his love for his wife and two little red-haired boys. He even missed his dog, a white beagle named Boo.

  That’s enough, Emma. That’s just about the limit. There you go, ease back now.

  Devlin’s voice cut into the red haze of pleasure that was filling her entire being. She didn’t want to stop, but she managed to withdraw her fangs from the man’s neck and step back. She was aroused, didn’t dare look Devlin’s way, because she knew he’d see it in her glowing red eyes. And maybe he’d do something about it. And then they would lose time. Precious time. She had to save her father.

  To distract herself from looking at Dev, she stared at the tiny puncture wounds in her victim’s neck and saw droplets beading from them. She was half afraid he would begin to bleed out.

  “He’s fine,” Devlin said. “The holes are tiny, and in a healthy individual they seal over immediately almost every time.”

  “Almost?”

  He nodded. “If it’s one of The Chosen, then there’s a bleeding risk. Or a hemophiliac. Or someone who’s been drinking a lot of alcohol. But in a healthy human, you’re fairly safe. The wounds vanish at the first touch of sunlight. You knew that, yes?”

  She nodded. “But what if one of them starts to bleed on me? What would I do then?”

  He smiled and pulled out a tiny pen sized device from a pocket. He clicked it and it lit up. “Watch yourself now,” he said. “It’s UV light. It’s not our friend.” He aimed the thin beam at the man’s neck, and to her stunned surprise, the light erased the tiny wounds. Then Devlin said, softly, “Get back in your truck, friend. Go to sleep. Be well.” And the man ambled away with a goofy smile on his face.

  Devlin clicked the light off and returned it to his pocket.

  “Nice.”

  “There are other methods, but this works for me. Now, if you’ve had your fill, I think it’s my turn.”

  “All right. Should we look for another sleepy truck driver?”

  “I’ve already summoned my willing donor for the evening,” he said with a nod toward the diner whose lights spilled out into the parking lot. A woman stood just at the spot where sidewalk met pavement. A forty-something brunette with a dazed look in her eyes and a pencil in her hair.

  She lifted her overly tweezed brows as Devlin ordered her to come closer. He didn’t have to let Emma hear that command, but he’d opened his mind to include her. She was still tingling all over, still hot in her center, still yearning for him to fill that deep hunger that couldn’t be quelled in any other way.

  The waitress shuffled forward, leaving the light behind her and moving into a sea of shadows. When she was standing in front of the two of them, she stopped and stood still. She was staring but not seeing. Devlin’s thrall was powerful.

  He moved a step closer, and she tipped her head to one side, offering her neck up to him like a sacrificial virgin.

  He smiled very slightly and bending, bit in. His mind was still open, and Emma clung to it as she felt what he was feeling–what she herself had experienced only moments ago. The thrill of fresh human life force rushing over his tongue, coating his throat, filling him. The electric jolts of nerve endings coming awake and erect with pleasure and reaching and stretching for more. The need, the hunger, the passion, the desire. She felt it all, and took a quivering breath as she watched his mouth moving over another woman’s throat.

  A surge of jealousy flowed into her from out of nowhere, and she gripped the woman’s shoulders and tore her away from him. “Get out of here!” she told the waitress. “Go, now!”

  Pressing a hand to her neck, blinking as if she had just woken to find herself sleepwalking on a tightrope, the waitress gave her head a shake, turned, and ran back toward the building.

  Devlin was staring at Emma, his eyes alight, his lips parted and moist. She gripped him by the front of his shirt, yanked him to her and kissed him hard and deep and long. He grabbed a handful of her hair to hold her while he explored her mouth with his tongue. His hips arched into hers, and she tore his shirt open and bit his chest, his shoulder, his neck. Tiny nips of her razor sharp incisors, drawing droplets of blood for her to lap.

  He growled and his arms around her wrapped tighter. They turned, stumbling off the pavement, onto the sidewalk, into the grassy picnic area and crashed into a wooden table. Devlin pressed her down onto it, pushed her legs wide, and drove himself in between. Their clothes were scraps, lining the path they’d taken to get there. There was nothing between them now. Naked to the night, her skin scraped over the rough wood of the table beneath her as he plunged into her, kissing and biting her all the while. When he pulled back and thrust even harder, the table broke in two, dropping them both to the ground. He landed on his knees, gathering her to him, wrapping her legs around
his waist as he rose up again. And then he carried her to the nearest tree, pressed her back against its bark and continued ravishing her body, biting her neck, her breasts, drinking little sips after piercing her skin, slamming her into the tree so hard it rained leaves and small twigs down around them.

  If she’d been human, this kind of sex would have broken her. A human body couldn’t bear it. The twisting and tightening of every muscle as she approached climax was beyond anything she’d experienced as an ordinary mortal, and nearly beyond endurance even now.

  But then he pushed her higher, ruthlessly, right over the edge, and she screamed as waves of pleasure, tsunamis, more accurately, washed over her, drowned her, took her over.

  As the tides receded, she found herself lying on top of him on the ground, licking at one of the tiny bites she’d made all over his chest like a cat at a saucer of milk. She stopped, lifted her head, met his eyes. “Did I hurt you very much?”

  “Just enough, Emma,” he said with a lazy smile.

  But she spotted something else behind his eyes. Something like worry. Something like fear. And maybe even a little bit like regret.

  If they were going to lose themselves to passion every time they fed, Devlin thought, then it might take longer than he’d anticipated to make it to White Plains and the newly restored headquarters of DPI that the prisoner had called The Sentinel.

  By God, the sex had been intense. Incredible. Indescribable pleasure still radiated through his body, and it renewed itself every time he thought about it, or so much as looked her way.

  He’d had sex with his own kind before, so he knew it was above and beyond sex as a mortal, or even sex with a mortal. But even with other vampires, it had never been the way it was with Emma.

  She was a wild thing in his arms and every bit as crazed as he was. There was something different about the chemistry between them. Something entirely new to him.

  They were back in the car. He was driving, and rather touched that she’d offered to let him. She sat in the passenger seat, slumped low in the seat, with her knees against the dashboard, head tipped back, gaze fixed on the star-dotted sky and nearly full moon above. If he had to put a name to what she was doing, he would have said, “Basking.” In moonglow, or afterglow. Possibly both. He didn’t dare ask, because he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was happening between them. He was a loner, a rebel leader, and a man without attachments. He’d always been. Almost always, at least. And he would always be. This was just a brief side trip in the midst of his journey. And she...she was an oasis on a trek across the desert. She was the precious water that would carry him the rest of the way. She was temporary, and so was this mission. Soon enough he’d have to get back to reality. There was no point in discussion. This was pre-decreed.