Blood Rogue, #1

by Linda J. Parisi

  “I did what I had to do to survive.”

  “And that makes everything all right, Chaz? You tell me.”

  He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He was what he was. But Stacy was different. So he listened and found her fighting with herself because she wanted to believe he was different. She needed him to be.

  “Do you care?”

  “Of course, I care.”

  “Do you?” she asked. “Then cry. Feel. Something. Anything. Because an innocent man whose only crime was to go to work, just died.”

  “I’m trying, Stacy. I really am. But you have to understand that’s not the way of my existence. And hasn’t been for over nine hundred years.”

  She picked up her coffee and sat down. “Wow. Nine hundred years. Nearly a millennia. I can’t comprehend that. But I can ask. Does time lessen the value of life?”

  He still didn’t answer.

  “You’ve seen so many things, new and wonderful things. To learn history through books is one thing, to actually live it? What must that have been like?”

  “When I was human, people used pitchforks and wagons. A horse was transportation. Then I watched men harness electricity, build skyscrapers, and invent machines to ease their labor.” He shook his head. “You seem to think my lack of guilt stems from living too long? God knows I’ve seen and done it all, so nothing can surprise me anymore. But I don’t think time lessens the value of life.”

  “Action is always better than intention.”

  “Yes. And for some, being a vampire means not being able to care. But I’m a Paladin. I’m different. So yes, I feel. I hurt. I care.” Chaz knew that from the way she’d looked at him, the way her gaze turned liquid not so long ago. How the bright shiny marble of her eyes turned to ocean blue. He just didn’t want to admit that yet.

  Their gazes met. Then he tore his away. Thank goodness her thoughts were jumbled. He would be selfish if they weren’t.

  He watched her lean forward on the table, wrap her hands around her mug, and stare at the milk swirling around inside her coffee. Two emotions rang true. The guilt and shame were still there.

  Chaz frowned, pulled out a chair, and sat down across from her. “This isn’t your fight.”

  Her gaze stayed locked on her coffee as if she didn’t want to look at him. “I was the one who should have died last night. My scent. Like you said.”

  “Yes. A rogue knows no bound. It has no limits, no humanity, nothing. There’s nothing but the blood.”

  “Instead of yelling,” she continued, obviously intent on beating herself up. “I should have fired my gun, found a way to distract it. It should’ve come after me.”

  “So you could be dead, too?”

  And she didn’t seem to want to stop. “Yes. That’s my job. That’s what I was trained for.”

  He leaned forward, removed her hands from around the mug, and wrapped them in his. “And I could have lured it away somehow. And–” He stopped, raising a brow to make his point. “You want to keep going?”

  “Yes. No. You don’t understand. I’m supposed to protect innocent people, and I failed.”

  He shook his head. God, she was magnificent. “You don’t need to carry that kind of guilt. How many times do I have to tell you that? If you’d met Mick, when he was Mick, you’d understand. He was the most honorable man I’ve ever known.”

  “You mean, vampire, don’t you?”

  “No, I mean man. He would never hurt a human being on purpose. Ever. So you need to understand once and for all—a rogue is a rogue. A rogue knows nothing but the need for blood. Now he wants yours. Maybe for one split second, he recognized your soul. We’ll never know. When I called him Father, he recognized mine. You saw how fast that disappeared. All I can tell you is that his insides are churning with need. One hundred times worse than your worst addiction. My fear right now is that he won’t stop until he kills a whole lot of people and then kills you.”

  Stacy stared at him for a long time. “Well, if that’s the way you feel, then put me out as bait.”

  “Wait a minute, what?”

  “You heard me.”

  There was that need to be a cop again. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very. That’s the only way to draw it out, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She was right. They both seemed to know it. Chaz hated that more than anything. All the more reason to do what he had to do. He tugged gently on her hands to draw her forward. She resisted, so he leaned close to nuzzle her neck. She shivered. He made to brush up against her cheek, and her body relaxed. How he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he moved faster than she could comprehend, letting his incisors plunge into the soft skin of her neck. He sipped a little then gave her the one thing he could to save her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Stacy

  Stacy’s eyes widened as she stared at her surroundings without recognition. The modern, masculine décor chilled her, as did the blackout shades on the windows. Only a single lamp lit the room, casting an unflattering glow.

  She rolled onto her back, her head completely out of sync with her body. Questions flooded her brain. What time was it? What day? Most of all, where the hell was she?

  Reality began as would a wave with the water sucking back then building with power, growing taller and more forceful with each passing second. Heaven above, it was true. All true.

  Sitting slowly, Stacy remembered everything. Their first meeting, the attack, the cover-up, and the drug. At least this time she didn’t feel like the inside of a lava lamp. With a sharp huff, she decided she’d have to tell him about the do’s and don’ts of using said forget-me-not.

  She looked around, frowning. No phone. Indeed, no clocks either. She wondered if it was on purpose or simply because vampires didn’t care about time.

  Vampires. No one would believe her. No one. Hell, they’d probably put her on administrative leave if she tried to explain and force her to see Dr. Redmond twice a week for a month, if not more. And Redmond was a whack job.

  All right, time to assess. Prisoner or partner? Both, perhaps? Neither, she realized. He’d given her the what did he call it again, that’s right, Lethe, to protect her so he’d expect her not to know a thing. While her heart warmed at his intentions, she simply didn’t know how to make him understand she was a big girl and could take care of herself.

  Okay, not entirely true. With his help. So now that he believed she didn’t know anything, how would he play his next move? Ahhh. The pick-up. What else would he be able to pull off with a woman in his apartment? Well then, guess what? Two could play that game.

  Stacy rose. Time to assess. No electronics. She turned to her left and found the side of the bedroom opened into a bathroom with a sliding door. She walked around the bed to her right. The room ended with a doorless closet. Several of her outfits hung there and in a set of shelves undergarments, shoes, the jeans she’d been wearing, and wait a minute. She looked down to find herself wearing a pair of pajamas. Great. Just great.

  She walked back around the bed and into the bathroom. Half of her toiletries sat on the vanity and shelves—even her hairdryer. Guess he expected her to remain here for a while.

  Arrangements can be made. Arrangements can always be made.

  Double great.

  Time to plan. Stacy climbed in the shower, where she did her best thinking. An hour or so later, she thought, Stacy opened the bedroom door and stepped into a dark hallway. She made her way into a large room and finally found a light switch, pleasantly surprised to find an open concept kitchen, dining room, and living room.

  At least he’d been busy. The refrigerator was stocked with milk, fruit, vegetables, and cheese. A bag of coffee sat next to a brand-new coffee maker. Muffins and a large crusty loaf of whole-grain bread graced the counter. She found she was starving and tore off a hunk of bread to munch on while she made coffee.

  She recalled what he said about his sense of smell, and she wondered about his physiolog
y for a moment. No marks or scars graced what she had seen of his skin, and he was cool, not quite cold, to the touch. His face was usually pale but had flushed red after drinking from Pat. He’d been able to fight even after she’d shot him so he must heal quickly.

  He would make a formidable enemy.

  “Mornin’ darlin’.

  Stacy whirled. She blanked out everything but the thought of joy at seeing him, then she hesitated with what she hoped was just the right amount of shyness. “Good morning? How do you know? I can’t tell anything. The shades, you know? And I can’t find a clock anywhere. Have you seen my cell?”

  He turned and walked over to a panel by the front door. He hit a button, and the shades began to drop. Low afternoon light filtered into the room.

  Chaz had a watch on his wrist. “It’s nearly five-thirty. But seriously, darlin’. Who needs to know what time it is?”

  He approached with debonair flair, with just the right amount of sway to his hips and enough grin to sidetrack a bloodhound hot on a trail. Damn. “I guess I don’t.”

  Her heart began a slow pound inside her chest as he inched closer and closer. He leaned in but only to tease. “Looks like you started without me.”

  “I was—hungry.”

  “Just as well,” he shrugged. “My appetite isn’t for food at the moment.”

  Fire flooded her veins and pooled between her legs. He had on a tight long-sleeved tee and low-slung pants. She traced a lazy finger down his chest and sighed, “Please tell me it’s still the weekend.”

  A flash of concern filled his gaze before he answered, smooth as silk. “It’s the weekend for as long as you want it to be.”

  “Oh, good,” she breathed. His gaze turned to brown velvet. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he whispered, nuzzling the shell of her ear.

  “Goodness,” she stammered, her voice breaking ever so slightly. She drew in rapid breaths that seemed to never be enough. Visions of their bodies entwined, a tangle of arms and legs, touching and tasting, filled her head.

  He grinned, just that uptick of the corner of his mouth that she’d come to know. He leaned closer, grazing the sensitive skin just below her jawbone with his lips. She gripped his shoulders, drawing him closer, his muscles quivering beneath her touch.

  “Down boy, down. You promised to take me to Room 84.” Seemed her plan was working. He thought she only remembered meeting at Adrian’s.

  He nipped his way down her cheek, over her nose, and across her eyelids. “Did I? I don’t remember that.”

  Short staccato breaths blew out through his nose. Stacy drew back and pouted. “I want to party.”

  “We can have our own party here.”

  “What fun is that?” she countered. “I want to show you off to all my friends and make them really jealous. I mean, I can’t wait to see the look on Kelly’s face.” Stacy turned and looked around. “Damn. Do you know where I left my phone?”

  “No, I’m not sure.”

  “God, can you just imagine?” she crowed with glee. “Kelly’s going to sooo hate my guts. I’ll bet Tori’ll even be a little jealous.” Stacy looped her arms around his neck. “Mine. All mine.”

  “That I am, gorgeous. That I am. So why even bother going out? Why don’t we stay here? Have our own party?”

  “We can,” she answered, shooting him a sly look. “But I really want to go out. I’ll make it worthwhile when we get back.”

  He hesitated. She leaned closer, rubbing her hips against his. Heat flared in his gaze, and for a split second, Stacy let herself be seduced. After all, she was only human.

  “Make it worth my while, eh?” he whispered, then traced her lips with his tongue. Stacy shivered. He grew bolder, nipping her skin, then biting down and sucking the area into his mouth.

  Stacy gulped air. “You’re dangerous.”

  “Am I?”

  He leaned back and grinned as he slid his fingers into her shirt and popped open one button.

  “Really.”

  “I don’t take no for an answer.”

  Stacy reared back, her tone made up of icicles meant to pierce. “No, you just take.”

  Startled, he tried to backtrack. “Hey. If you want to go party, we’ll go party.”

  “Truly?”

  “Of course.” He leaned back and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

  Stacy filled her mind with images from the last twenty-four hours. “Arrangements can be made. Arrangements can always be made. Right?”

  He froze. Stacy laughed, the sound cold even to her ears. “You’d have gone through with it, wouldn’t you?” He didn’t answer. “Wouldn’t you?”

  She lifted her arm, primed to swing. Then she realized he wasn’t worth the effort.

  He didn’t try to excuse his actions, didn’t even try to apologize. “How long have you known?”

  “Since I woke up. Seems your drug no longer works on me.”

  “Outstanding.”

  Chapter Nine

  Chaz

  How the hell did she fool him?

  Easy enough when you get caught up in your own libido.

  Her door slammed. There were no locks, but Chaz owed her what privacy he could give. Except for the shouting in his brain. “Wait a minute. You need to listen to me.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He flashed to her door. “I know I have no right, but you feel so damned good in my arms.”

  “We’ll discuss that part in a moment. You’re aware the word is called kidnapping, correct?”

  “Yes. But only to keep you safe.” Okay. He screwed up. He figured he’d ask. “Are we talking?”

  “Maybe.” She paused. “You’d have had me flat on my back in three seconds.”

  “I won’t lie to you. You’re damned straight, I would. And you’d have reveled in every moment.”

  He didn’t need to read her thoughts to know that wasn’t the best thing to say. “Thanks for throwing that up in my face.”

  “Damn it, Stacy. That wasn’t what I meant.” His fists clenched, and he had to keep himself from barging through the door. “Don’t you understand? I get all caught up when I touch you. I can’t help wanting you any more than I can help wanting to protect you.”

  “And you expect what? For me to simply puddle at your feet? Oh, my goodness. The great and all-powerful vampire. Thank you for showing me how much integrity you have left.”

  Chaz whirled. He heard footsteps approaching his front door. Damn. Pitch. He’d given him a key. “Look. Pitch is here. I need to go out.”

  “Say it!”

  “Okay! I need to feed. I’ll take you to dinner when I return.”

  “My choice. We’ll go to Luigi’s.”

  He knew better than to argue. He turned, grabbed his jacket, and brushed past Pitch as he was coming in without saying a word. He didn’t take long. A woman in a bar, a young man in a vestibule, a taxi driver asleep in his car. When he returned, Pitch sat on his couch, looking sad and morose, and Stacy stood in the kitchen, drumming her fingers on the countertop. “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t answer, simply swept past him. He got the message. So before she walked out the door, he pulled her cell out of his jacket pocket.

  “Your friend, Tori texted. She was checking to make sure you were all right.”

  “What do you mean, so she’d know I was all right? Give me my phone. Now!”

  Not until he had her promise. “Do I have your word that you won’t tell her the truth about me?”

  Thunder started brewing on her brow. “I’m not your prisoner. What I do is my choice.”

  “I know. Making you a prisoner is the last thing I want to do. And we all have the right to choose. But you’ll put her in grave danger if you tell her the truth.”

  “Give me my phone now.” Chaz handed her the cell slowly. “Oh my god, Tori called work, and they told her I called in sick with a stomach bug. Did you do that?”

  “I had no choice. Hide
in plain sight, remember?”

  “How the hell did you…?” She didn’t finish the question.

  He watched her dial her friend wondering if he was doing the right thing. “Tori? Hey.” There was a bit of silence, then Stacy continued. “No. I felt fine when we got to O’Reilly’s. Maybe that last glass of wine. It could’ve been something I ate too. No, I’ve been drinking tea. Yes, and lots of water.” More silence. “I might try some toast later. No, no fever.” And then a strangled laugh. “No, I don’t need you to come over, I’ll be fine. Yes, love you too.”

  When she hung up, Chaz released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Thank you.” He didn’t know how else to answer.

  “You have no right to invade my life like this.”

  “I didn’t mean to. Didn’t want to.”

  “Damn your arrangements.”

  “Yes.” He jammed his finger into the elevator button. “Look. The only way I can make it up to you is to keep you alive. Can we call a truce while I do that?”

  She didn’t answer. But she did follow him into the elevator. A step in the right direction?

  He followed her once they were out on the street, feeling guilty. He hadn’t answered to anyone, not any human, in a very long time.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve said that before. When I told you to put me out as bait, I didn’t think you’d treat me like a worm.”

  He winced. “That bad, eh?”

  She nodded.

  So he stopped. “Perhaps we can start over. Charles Tower at your service.”

  “We’ve done this before.”

  “Yes, I know. And you said…”

  She groaned. “I know what I said.”

  “I won’t lie. That hasn’t changed. But for now, I’ll accept you keeping your gun holstered.”

  She laughed. “No promises.”

  Harmony somewhat restored, Chaz followed Stacy. She stopped walking in front of a small pizza parlor called Luigi’s. Not a place he would’ve noticed.