by Chloe Hart
“I don’t kill for money, vampire scum,” she hissed.
“Of course not. For fun, then?”
Her green eyes glittered as she stared up at him. “I serve my people,” she said through gritted teeth. “I fight our enemies.”
“Lovely.” Evan reached around behind him and pulled the arrow slowly from his back, managing to keep the searing pain from showing on his face. “Where I come from, only cowards shoot their enemies in the back. Is that how you were going to kill Celia?”
“I wasn’t going to kill her.” She smiled coldly, and Evan suddenly had a very bad feeling. “Any second now, you’re going to find out exactly what I was going to do to her. I’m surprised you haven’t felt it yet.”
Almost before she finished speaking, he did feel it. A hint of numbness at the site of the arrow wound.
“Poison,” he whispered.
She shook her head slowly, that damn smile still on her face. “Not poison. A paralytic. In a few minutes you won’t be able to move at all.”
The numbness was already beginning to spread, but all he could think of was Celia. “You were going to capture her, not kill her. But why?”
She kept on smiling. And then, with a sudden, violent twist, she escaped his hold and was gone.
“Speedy little thing,” Hawk said, watching as she disappeared into an alleyway across the street. “Beautiful, too. It’s a pity she’s an ice-cold Fae bitch. You can tell she’s at least a quarter-blood—maybe even a half-blood.”
Evan wasn’t interested in the archer’s pedigree, and he wasn’t sure how much time he had left before the shit she’d pierced him with took full effect. He lurched to his feet and faced the other vampire.
“When we knew each other back in London, did I ever ask you for a favor?”
Hawk flicked his cigarette butt in the gutter. “She does mean something to you.”
“Don’t do this, Hawk. She’s not like the others you’ve taken out. Most of them deserved death, but she doesn’t. She’s an innocent.”
There was a flicker of something in Hawk’s eyes; something like regret. “I’m sorry, Evan. I really am. But someone made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and I’ve got to see this job through. For what it’s worth, though, I’m sorry to cause you pain.”
The numbness was still spreading. But Evan also felt a fire licking through him, a fierce rage at the knowledge that Hawk was on the hunt, ready to kill Celia. His fangs burst forth and he heard himself give a low, feral growl.
Hawk raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to do this, mate. Not the shape you’re in. I don’t want to kill you, but if I have to, I will.”
“I won’t let you hurt her.”
Hawk smiled a little, clearly not regarding Evan as a threat. And considering the fact that he was swaying where he stood, it seemed like a pretty accurate assessment.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re in no shape to stop me.”
Evan closed his eyes, feeling sick and nauseous as the stiffness reached his joints. “I know,” he muttered.
Then he let his demon take over as he lunged forward.
He was slower than normal but not weaker—not yet, anyway. He got his arms around the other vampire and took him down to the ground, and Hawk growled in surprised fury.
This is not going to end well, Evan thought dimly as Hawk flipped him to his back and sank his fangs into his forearm, tearing the muscle from the bone. He was going to die, and Celia wouldn’t be long for this world once Hawk finished with him.
And given the very different afterlives they were probably headed for, he would never see her again.
“Stop!”
He and Hawk both froze. Then Evan moved his head an inch to the left, so he could see over the other vampire’s shoulder.
Celia was standing a few yards away with a crossbow pointed at them—the same crossbow he’d knocked out of the other woman’s hands not long before. Her hands were shaking, and he was very, very glad that Hawk’s body was between him and the deadly looking arrow.
Hawk had to twist his head to see what Evan saw. Then he went very still.
“I’ve got this aimed at your heart,” she said, her eyes on Hawk. “I’m giving you one chance to walk away. If you’re not gone in ten seconds, you’ll be dead.”
Hawk didn’t waste any time arguing. He let Evan go and rose to his feet in one smooth motion. He bowed to Celia as if they were at a social function, a slight smile on his face. “Round one to the lady,” he said softly.
And then, moving with vampire speed, he was gone.
For a moment Celia stared after him. Then she let the crossbow clatter to the ground as she rushed to Evan’s side.
“This looks bad,” she said, looking at the bone-deep gash on his arm. “Really, really bad.”
“It’s nothing,” Evan said, hearing the words slur slightly. “But, Celia—you should have taken Hawk out when you had the chance. He’s a hired assassin, and he’s in Boston to kill you.”
For a minute she didn’t say anything. Then: “I know I should have. But…I’ve never killed anyone before.”
Evan kept his eyes on her face. “Now might be a good time to start.”
She shrugged. “It’s too late now, anyway.” She looked up, scanning the deserted street. “We’ve got to get you somewhere safe before he comes back. Or Jessica does.”
There was pain in her voice when she said that name.
“Jessica?”
Celia nodded, her eyes shadowed. “I don’t know her, but I see her every year at the solstice ceremony. She’s a Fae princess. The queen’s daughter.” She took a quick breath. “But that’s not important now. Let’s get you out of here.”
The stiffness was spreading everywhere, and it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t move at all. “Don’t worry about me, love. You get the hell out of here. Go back to the club; it’s close, and it’s safe. Tell Shank where I am and he’ll come and fetch me back.” If he lived that long.
She looked shocked. “I’m not leaving you here. You’re practically defenseless.”
She slipped her arm under his uninjured shoulder and brought him up to a sitting position. “Can you get up?”
The worst thing about the numbness in his body was that he couldn’t feel her against him. “I’m serious, love. You need to get out of here.”
That look of determination was in her eyes. “I’m not leaving without you. So you either get up, or we’ll both stay here.”
There was a funny throb in his chest, as though his dead heart was trying to beat. “Why did you come back? I told you to run.”
She flushed, and the color made her face lovelier than anything he’d ever seen. “You were trying to protect me. I was just returning the favor.” Then her chin went up. “Although if you wanted to help me, you could have saved us both a lot of trouble by accepting my offer back at the club. Why in the world did you kick me out of your place and then come after me?”
That was a very good question.
He sighed. “Damned if I know. Look, pet—if you won’t listen to reason, I’d better try to move now while I still can. I hate to ask for your help, but—”
“Of course,” she said immediately, tightening her grip around his shoulders. With her help he struggled to his feet, and then he set his teeth as he forced himself to walk back towards the club.
Celia kept her arm around him the whole way. Which was why, even though every step hurt like hell and the tear in his arm burned like fire, a part of him wished they could keep going forever.
Chapter Four
“You’re sure he’s going to be all right?”
Shank nodded as he closed Evan’s bedroom door. “The paralysis is wearing off, and his arm is already starting to heal. He’d heal faster if he’d drink something real, but—”
Celia frowned. “What do you mean, if he’d drink something real?”
Shank looked a little uncomfortable. “He, ah, wouldn’t let me call in one of his usual
girls.”
It took her a few seconds to put it together. “Oh. Right. But…why? If he needs blood…and there are all those women downstairs willing to, you know, service him…”
Using that particular phrase made her blush, but it also brought a sudden, vivid image into her mind’s eye. She pictured herself at Evan’s bedside, holding her wrist to his mouth as he pierced the skin with his fangs, his eyes on hers as he drank…
“Miss Celia? You look flushed. Are you sure you’re all right? None of that paralyzing stuff got in you, did it?”
She cleared her throat. “No, I’m fine.” She hesitated. “Could I…would it be all right if I went in?”
Shank smiled. “He told me no visitors—except for you. He said if you wanted to see him, day or night, that I was to let you in. Otherwise, he told me to show you to the guest room and make sure you have everything you need.”
She still couldn’t understand what had caused this change in Evan—but she was very grateful. Just as she was grateful that he’d risked his own life to save hers.
“I won’t let you hurt her.”
As long as she lived, she’d never forget the thrill that had coursed through her when she’d heard Evan say those words.
“Thank you, Shank. I won’t be long. I know he needs to rest.”
Shank nodded and went back downstairs. Even at four o’clock in the morning there was noise coming from the club, although it seemed to be winding down a bit. But it was much quieter up here, on the floor Evan had converted into an apartment.
She took a deep breath before opening the door to his bedroom.
It was a big room, dominated by a king-sized bed—which in turn was dominated by the vampire lying on it.
Evan was covered by a dark red blanket from the waist down and bare from the waist up. His eyes were closed. His injured arm had been bandaged, but that wasn’t what drew Celia’s gaze.
He was magnificent. His naked torso was packed with hard muscle, and he was the perfect image of power at rest. His skin was so smooth—
Suddenly she realized his eyes had opened. He was looking straight at her.
Her cheeks flamed, as if she’d been caught doing something illicit.
She cleared her throat. “Shank said you weren’t…you know, drinking,” she said without preamble.
He frowned. “I’m drinking plenty,” he said, indicating the bottle on his bedside table.
“Is that blood?”
“No. Whiskey.” He shifted on the bed, and she wondered if his bad arm was hurting him.
“Shank said you need blood.”
“I’ve had blood.”
“Animal blood won’t heal you as quickly. Shank said you wouldn’t let him get one of the—”
“Shank talks too much. Don’t worry about me, Faery girl. I’m fine.”
She closed the door behind her and crossed the room towards him. A few feet from his bedside she stopped.
“You could have mine,” she said, her cheeks still hot.
She couldn’t meet his eyes as she made the offer, so she looked out the window beside his bed. After a minute of silence, though, she looked back at him.
A rush of goose bumps prickled her skin when she saw that his eyes had turned yellow and his fangs were gleaming in the light of his bedside lamp. She barely kept herself from taking a step back.
“Thought you had a boyfriend,” he said after a moment, his voice low and rough.
“I…” she swallowed nervously and tried again. “I do. But you need blood, and you saved my life, and…”
It wasn’t like before, she told herself. He wasn’t asking for her blood in payment. She was offering, and only for medicinal purposes.
“So you think you owe me, then?”
He sounded harsh, but maybe that was just how he sounded when he was in vamp face.
“Well…yes. And it will help you to heal.”
He turned his head away, and after a moment his fangs retracted and his eyes returned to brown. Then he looked at her again.
“Don’t do me any favors, Tinkerbell. We’re even as far as the life-saving thing goes. The only thing I want from you is to know what the hell is going on. Why does everyone in the world have it in for you? It would take something special to bring Hawk Blakestone out of the bloody woodwork. He used to be one of the most expensive assassins in the underworld, and his targets were always other vampires. So why did he come out of retirement to go after you? What the hell kind of research are you doing?”
He nodded his head towards a chair by the window. “Pull that over and start talking.”
Some impulse made her sit beside him, instead. “There’s room for me here,” she said. “Your bed is huge.”
After a moment he shrugged. “Whatever juices your orange. I don’t care where you sit, as long as you talk.”
The taboos against sharing information about her people didn’t seem so important anymore. “Okay,” she said.
She took a deep breath. “A couple of years ago, I started making absinthe for my best friend, Liz. She’s a member of the Green Fae. You know that’s our warrior clan, right? Demon hunters.”
Evan nodded impatiently. “Yeah, I know all about the Green Fae.”
“Okay. Well. I don’t know how much you know about Fae culture, but absinthe is sacred to us. Not the kind humans drink, although there are similarities. They’re both made with wormwood, anise, and fennel.”
Evan nodded again. “I know that much. I had a friend at Oxford who drank the stuff. The human version, anyway.”
Celia stared at him. “You went to Oxford?”
He looked at her sardonically. “I should be insulted that you sound so surprised. But considering I worked damn hard to get rid of my Oxford accent, I suppose that would be hypocritical.”
“What did you study?”
“History.”
Celia felt a rush of pleasure. “That’s what I’m studying. At Boston University.”
“Good for you. Now, if we could get back to the subject at hand?”
She felt her cheeks heating, and wondered why she’d been so pleased to find out that she and Evan had something in common. Especially when, as he’d said himself, he’d made a deliberate effort to put his past—his human past—behind him.
Evan was still speaking. “Humans have always linked absinthe with your race, you know. They call it the Green Fairy—La Fée Verte.”
She nodded. “I know. Even human absinthe has a reputation, and as for the Faery brew…if a human with no Fae blood drinks it, they’re pulled out of this world entirely.” She bit her lip. “A hundred years ago, there were Fae—pure bloods, mostly—who found it…amusing…to do that deliberately. To give our absinthe to humans. There were some disappearances.”
“Delightful sense of humor your people have,” Evan said drily.
“It doesn’t happen anymore,” Celia said defensively. “There are strict laws against it.”
“That’s a comfort. By the by—where, exactly, did the absinthe send them?”
“That’s the thing,” Celia said. “We’ve never really known for sure. Passage between the worlds has always been one-way—or so we’ve thought. The story among our people is that the other world is the realm of the Dark Fae.”
Evan frowned. “Dark Fae?”
Celia nodded. “Faeries without souls or hearts or consciences. The way some human storytellers have described all Fae.”
“I can’t imagine how your people could have gotten such a bad rap.”
Evan’s voice was sardonic, and Celia knew he was thinking of the Fae who’d deliberately given absinthe to humans.
She flushed. “Of course there have always been some Faeries who were…unfriendly to humans, but for the most part, our people are good. And over time—the last hundred years, especially—the Fae have mated more with humans. Purebloods have become rare, and as our blood has mingled we’ve seen that our fates are mingled, too. We see ourselves as protectors of this world, inclu
ding the humans who live here. Our most ancient legends tell us that the other world—or dimension, or whatever—is populated by Faeries who are truly evil. Who would do harm to humans if they could. The legends also say that there have always been portals between the dimensions, which is how the Fae came to learn of Earth’s existence. And that the first Fae who found their way to Earth did so because they were different. Capable of compassion, and empathy…and love. They came to Earth so that they could have those things. And in exchange for the gift of love—for their souls—they gave up immortality.”