A Vampire's Wicked Hunger: An Edgy Paranormal Urban Fantasy Romance featuring Sexy Vampires, Werewolves, Wicked Witches and Shapeshifters (Love on the Edge Book 4)

by Chloe Adler

  “Elijah . . .” My heart rate increased and I flushed, my hands moistening. When was I ever at a loss for words, let alone besieged by nerves? “About the other night.”

  He waited, head cocked.

  “I apologize.” I held his gaze. “I was undeniably rude to the both of you.”

  He dipped his chin. “Apology accepted, thank you. We were all at fault, really. Emotions were high. We should have asked for your permission, respected your wishes and not thrown ourselves on you. But can you blame us?” He offered me a lopsided grin. “So is that why you came here? To apologize?”

  “I wish I could say yes, but no. I had a difficult,” I looked back down the pier, squinting, “brunch. I was walking to clear my head. I didn't know you worked”—I looked at the sign above the door—”at the Barnacle.”

  He visibly softened, the tension easing out of his body. “Ah, so then you didn't come to take me up on the dive lessons either?”

  “Dive lessons?”

  He pointed. Stenciled on the window was Diving Lessons, Rentals, Snorkeling.

  “I've never even stepped inside this place.”

  He shrugged. “Want a tour?”

  “Sure. Can I bring Rex inside?”

  “All are welcome.” He pointed to a dog's water bowl outside the shop.

  “Won't I get you in trouble with your boss?”

  A grin stretched across his face, lighting up those pale-blue eyes. “Probably not.”

  Relief washed over me in a wave. After the abysmal conversation with my dad and Margery, Elijah's grudgeless open heart was a beacon on a moonless night.

  The shop was immaculate, which surprised me since I had assumed that Elijah and Tiyah had never invited me over to their boat because it was cramped and dirty. Maybe another employee cleaned the shop or the boss was a stickler.

  Looking around, I ran my fingers over some of the snorkeling equipment without paying attention and ran full force into a very solid chest.

  “Well, hello there,” came a deep voice.

  Elijah was next to me in a flash. “Jonas, this is my friend Burgundy. Burg, my brother, Jonas.”

  I backed away to extend my hand. He brought it up to his mouth for a kiss. These Aaron brothers were slick.

  “I didn't know you had a brother.”

  Elijah grinned. “You and I don't do much talking.”

  Jonas dropped my hand, clearing his throat and looking between us. “So has your friend met your wife yet?”

  He was protective of Tiyah. I liked that. “I know her well. Better than I know your brother.”

  Jonas nodded, apparently satisfied with my response.

  “You,” I tapped his rock-hard chest, “look familiar.”

  Elijah snorted. “Not a very original line, Burg.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, then went back to staring at Jonas. I'd seen him recently. But where? At the V?

  “So tell me,” I leaned against the shelves, “how do brothers end up working together at the same dive shop? Do you know the owner?”

  Jonas made eye contact with Elijah again, who merely shrugged and said, “You could say that.”

  “She doesn't know?” asked Jonas.

  “Know what?”

  “Elijah and I are the owners.”

  I almost knocked over the shelves in my surprise. “What? You never told me that.”

  “Again . . . not a lot of talking.” He winked at me.

  “Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Jonas asked. “I feel like I should call Tiyah and tell her.”

  “Please do,” said Elijah and handed his phone to his brother.

  I looked at him questioningly. “Can we speak, in private?”

  “Sure, follow me to the office.” Elijah walked to the back of the store. I followed with Rex after offering Jonas a wan smile. His jaw was working as he glared at us with eyes a shade darker than his brother's.

  Once in the office I shut the door. “What the hell? Do you want your brother to find out? Are you completely uninterested in discretion?”

  He shrugged and sat down in a chair. “My brother's cool but it'd be best if he heard it from Tiyah and not from me.”

  “Heard what?”

  “About our arrangement.”

  “We don't have an arrangement, Elijah. We've had some fun together.” A lot of fun. “But that's all. Sex is meaningless.”

  “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't have feelings for us?”

  “Feelings? I have sexual stirrings for both of you. I like you a lot as people. Friends. Friends I fuck even. I'm not sure what you're asking.”

  “You don't feel anything more for us?”

  Fuck. I shook my head. “If you want to have a conversation like this, Tiyah needs to be here too.”

  “I'll call her.”

  “And we probably shouldn't do it while you're at work.”

  “We'll come over later.”

  “Elijah . . .”

  He looked so vulnerable, those blue eyes searching mine. Something welled up in my chest, something a lot like when Sadie or Jared was hurting or sad. Well, that was unexpected. I wanted to hold him and kiss him, but I couldn't. Not without Tiyah, not without an understanding. And damn me if I didn't want it.

  “Yes,” I finally said. “Let's all talk later.”

  He nodded those lovely flaxen curls. “She wants there to be an us.”

  “An us?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean all three of us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you proposing a triad?” Fantasy is always better than reality.

  He shrugged. “Is that what it's called? I just know that we're both completely smitten with you and we can't imagine our relationship continuing without you in it.”

  “Whoa.” I held my hand up. “This is too much for me to process right now.” I pushed the jolt of loneliness, the allure of belonging to someone, away. I had to. What he offered could never work.

  “Okay, take whatever time you need. If you want to wait a few days to talk, we'll wait.”

  “Rex, come.” I opened the office door and the dog followed me out. Jonas was on the phone.

  “Okay, I just wanted to make sure everything was copacetic.”

  I rounded the corner and watched him. He stood tall with a wide stance, head held high. Protective?

  “You're my sister too, Tiyah, and as pack leader, I have to watch out for everyone.”

  Pack leader? That's where I'd seen him before. He was the new shifter on the Council. He looked very different here, wearing shorts and a tank with wisps of wild curls. Untamed. Without the suit he also looked much younger. But this was the same man. I rushed back to the office just as Elijah was coming out.

  “I thought you said you weren't Signum?” I threw at him.

  “Huh?”

  “Your brother was at the Council meeting the other day. Benedict told me he's the new shifter that replaced someone who moved away. I'd ask if you were adopted, but the similarity between you two is uncanny. Care to explain?”

  He looked down but not before fear flashed in his eyes. “I can't.” He reached for my hand, then clutched it to his heart when I didn't pull away. “Do you trust me?”

  “Trust is earned.”

  “Please, Burgundy.”

  “Please what?”

  “Don't say anything to Benedict yet. Give us a little more time. We'll explain when we can. I promise.”

  “And the we that you're referring to?”

  “Tiyah. Me. Jonas.”

  “You have a week.”

  He let out a long breath. “I understand. Can we still see you tonight? To talk about us?”

  “How can there be an us when you're obviously hiding something major from me?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was getting ready for work when the doorbell rang. Rex started to bark.

  “I'll get it,” Chrys called. A few minutes later there was a knock on my bedroom door.

&n
bsp; I opened it to Chrys standing in the hallway, looking a little confused. “Your dad's here. He asked me to get you.”

  “Okay. Tell him I'll be right out.” That was strange. Was he going to tell me off?”

  I threw on the rest of my outfit and marched out to the living room, where he sat on one of the wingback chairs.

  Rising, he took my hand in his and kissed each cheek. “It's important to me that you get along with my wife.”

  I sat across from him, narrowing my eyes, keeping my mouth clamped shut.

  “The thing you have to understand about Margery is that she is the most amazing person I've ever known . . . in every way.”

  This threw me off but I was willing to try, for him. “How so?” I leaned forward.

  “She is kind, thoughtful, intelligent, and she continually challenges me.”

  “Kind? I don't understand. From what I've seen she's judgmental and rude.”

  “It's her armor. An act. She has a difficult time shedding her lawyerly persona but she lets her guard down with me. I see her for who she truly is, the kindest and most caring person I know.”

  Ouch and bafflement. Was he deluded or did he really believe that? Or did he have to believe it? I knew over a dozen people who were nicer than Margery—my mother and I for two. Being mean for self-protection or for any reason at all still counts as being mean. “So how does she challenge you?” Maybe that was the key to this puzzle.

  He laughed. “She will argue about anything and everything. I love that. And there's no way you can win, even if you're right and she's wrong. Because if she senses she's losing, she'll make things up to win the argument. Fake facts. And the funniest part is you don't know if what she's saying is true or false.” His laughter was deep and rumbling. Utterly disturbing. I shivered.

  “So she'll flat out lie to win an argument, even if she's wrong?”

  “I love that about her.” His lips slid up, the smile stretching across his handsome face. “Keeps me on my toes.”

  “But . . .”

  He got up and rearranged himself next to me on the couch, reaching out to pat me on the back. “I don't expect you to understand, Maria. You've never been in love.”

  Ouch. And untrue. But how would he know? He never wanted to. Did he prefer to see me as an extension of himself? Someone he could control?

  “Dad, I really don't get this. You're telling me that you're blinded by a woman who has no integrity?”

  “Why would you think she has no integrity? Haven't you been listening? I told you, she is the kindest, most amazing woman I've ever known.”

  Why did that feel like a stake to the heart? I let out a breath of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and he held up a hand.

  “If you can't be happy for me . . .” He shook his head, wearing a hurt look. Manipulation.

  “I'm happy that you're happy.” It was all I could manage.

  “Now we just need to find you an honest career and a rich husband. After all, you're almost fifty. It's time for you to get your life together.”

  The hell? I was still in my early forties and what did my age have to do with anything? I'd had my life together at eighteen, my first job at fourteen. “Is that you or Margery talking?”

  “She only wants what's best for you and for me.”

  “What does she have on you, Dad?”

  He leaned back, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I'm in love with this woman, Maria. A deep love I never knew was even possible. I believe that she has your best interests at heart, she just has a different way of communicating that. Can you trust me on this?”

  No. But for my house and everyone who counted on me, I held my tongue. I may have acted like a big, bad wolf earlier when I told my father that I didn't need his money, but the reality of it actually disappearing caused my palms to sweat. Not for myself, I could live in a van if need be, but for my friends. I was the den mother. I couldn't forsake them. My pack.

  The thumping music that night at the V was already giving me a headache. The dim lights seemed so bright I shielded my eyes, not able to focus on anything above the din of talking, clinking glasses and that music. Maybe I could slip out and just go home.

  “Burgundy?” Jared was standing in front of me, wearing a concerned expression.

  “Si,” I answered without thinking.

  “What's wrong?” He touched my shoulder.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckled, “I know you better than anyone, remember?”

  “I wouldn't want to forget. Hug?”

  “Wow, this is serious.” He pulled me in, weaving those strong arms around my back, and I leaned into his chest. Wrapped up in his warm scent of Paco Rabanne cologne, I let the familiar notes of grapefruit, leather and mint calm me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head against him. “I do have a question though.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do shifters form packs?”

  He pushed me out to arm's length. “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Just something I heard the other day. Why aren't you in one?”

  His amber eyes flickered. “I guess you could say that Alec and I are in one. Shifters often refer to their family members as their pack. When I was growing up, my parents used the term for me and Sam.”

  “Doesn't it originally come from werewolves?”

  Jared bit back a laugh. “Werewolves? Where did that come from? Sure, in fiction—books and movies—but in reality? You know there's no such thing.”

  “Yeah.” I reached up and kissed his cheek. “One more thing. Would you ever call someone in your family the pack leader?”

  “We didn't, but I guess maybe my dad could have held that role.” He couldn't hide the pain in his eyes.

  I had to stop talking about this with him. When he was eighteen, his parents had been brutally murdered by Trackers, a fanatical religious group bent on wiping out Signum.

  “So are you here for Alec tonight?”

  He nodded, biting his lip.

  “I bet he wishes the circus was open all year round so he could perform there instead.”

  Jared's face brightened. “Totally. He much prefers working there.”

  “The atmosphere is very different.” I barked out a laugh. If there were another place I could dance half naked, reveling in my sexual power, I'd do it too. But circuses and strippers didn't really mix. The kiddies and all.

  “Want to get a drink? I have a while before Alec goes on.”

  “Sure.”

  “The usual?” Carter asked us and we sat down at the bar together. We nodded, then turned to watch a lively girl bounce around on stage.

  “Jared? One last question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can shifters bond to more than person?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Why so many shifter questions, Burgundy?”

  “Just curious.”

  “I know you way better than that but I'll let it go . . . for now. So, you still doing doubles dancing with Tiyah?”

  “We are. The crowd seems to love it.”

  He laughed. “What's not to love.”

  Carter returned with our drinks and slid them over to us. “Hey, Burg?”

  “Yeah?” I turned around.

  “Isn't that your dad?” He pointed toward the front door.

  My father stood just inside the entrance, blinking at the stage, a sly grin on his face. Ew. “Be right back, guys.” I slid off my barstool and approached my father. “Hey, Dad.”

  He spun toward me, wearing a look of complete surprise. Weird. “Maria, I didn't expect to see you here.”

  “This is where I work.”

  “Yes. Yes of course.”

  “So, where's your lovely wife?” My voice oozed sarcasm.

  “Margery and Deenie are home tonight, playing mah-jongg.” He shrugged. “It's Margery's favorite game.”

  Of course it was. “And you're here because . . . ?”<
br />
  “Oh, right.” He straightened his tie. “I'm meeting Amber for,” he looked around, “a drink.”

  “A drink at the bar or a drink from her?”

  He grinned at me. “A drink from her.”

  I rustled up a thin-lipped smiled. “I don't know how you do things back in Nicaragua, but I have four donors so that no one needs a blood transfusion.”

  “Well I'm new here and I haven't gone shopping yet.”

  “You can always go to a vectum.”

  He laughed. “Me? A vectum? You never know what you're getting there. Besides, I prefer to have a . . . connection with my donors.”

  My father and I hadn't ever talked about this. I'd left home when I was eighteen, and as a minor, my dad had procured my donors for me. “Me too. You could always take out an ad and interview for more.”

  “I'll consider it.” He was looking around, presumably for Amber.

  “Where are you two meeting?”

  “She said to come to a back room, that we'd have more privacy there.”

  “Right. Follow me.” I led my dad to the sex rooms, which was weird, but vampires often used them for drinking too. The “V” stood for vampire, after all. Sure enough, Amber was waiting for him in one of the rooms I peeked into. “Hey, Amber.”

  “Hey, Burgundy.” She offered me a huge smile.

  “I brought my dad. He said he was meeting you here?”

  “Yep, thanks,” she called out, waving at him. “Hi, Hervé, nice to see you.”

  Dad entered, looking around. “What kind of room is this?” He was eyeing the bed with raised brows.

  “They're . . . intimacy rooms, but we can use them for drinking too,” I replied.

  “I see. Okay then. Thank you, Maria.” He waved me away.

  “Great. Welcome. Enjoy.” I left them. On my way back to the bar, I saw Benedict.

  “Hi, Burgundy. Enjoying your night?”

  “Not yet.” I winked at him and he laughed.

  “Soon enough, I hope.”

  I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?”

  “Sure. Here or in my office?”