He pinned her with a dark stare. “The carnival’s in town. In two nights, meet me there by the Ferris wheel.”
Odd choice for a vampire concerned with stately elegance.
Osiris rose and walked around the desk. “We’ll go there now, so you’ll know where to flash and where to meet me. The various smells will cover my scent on you. I trust you are intelligent enough to fabricate a story of your whereabouts?”
He assisted her to standing, which she hated. Withdrawing her arm from his grip, she backtracked until she was outside again. His hand slid around her arm once more, and he flashed them away.
Chapter Nine
Grace wandered through the carnival. It was winding down for the night, but humans strolled through for last minute games and rides.
She loved this place. So many good times. She and her mom riding all the fastest rides while her dad gazed on with a greenish tint to his skin. Nathaniel always competed against her, trying to win the biggest stuffed animal without having to fork over all the cash. She smiled at the memory, then it slowly faded.
Bishop had ensured she had her phone and programmed all of their numbers into it.
She didn’t call anyone. Not yet. She didn’t flash anywhere. Not yet.
Too much to sort through before she jumped into “the game” with both feet, playing both sides.
Screams of delightful terror surrounded her. She used to be one, lending her voice to the chorus of the rides. Brightly colored lights, spinning and flashing, brought a smile to her face. It was so utterly normal. The smell of fried dough teased her nose. Man, she could go for some cheese buttons.
Strolling through the games, she was propositioned by vendor after vendor. No money, no games. She had two nights to figure out how to apply for a job. Otherwise her no money situation would be long-term. She wouldn’t be welcome at headquarters forever, and where would she go if Rourke found out she was working with his brother?
What the fuck was she going to do? Osiris’ slick words didn’t sway her belief in Rourke. He was not a heartless murderer.
Osiris had to be the one she remembered. She had no recollection of the killings, hadn’t actually seen who’d struck the fatal blows.
Brother against brother. She was supposed to hand one to the other. Didn’t matter who. Rourke would want Osiris’ head if she told him what happened tonight. The only difference was he’d do it himself instead of using her as a pawn.
Learn Rourke’s routine. Report to Osiris. She’d do that and figure out the rest. With Rourke’s skills, that little bit wouldn’t hurt him.
She was pulling up Bishop’s number on her phone when she sensed a presence behind her.
An average looking man smiled at her like he was the best thing since high-speed internet. “Hey, there.”
Her finger paused over the send button. Before her world tipped over, she’d take advantage of a situation like this. Get a human alone. Feed.
The guy was as appetizing as a week old funnel cake, but she couldn’t pass him up. Even as her stomach twisted, she pocketed her phone and gave him a demure smile.
“Hey, yourself.”
His eyes lit up thinking he’d found a bed companion. Or an against-the-wall buddy. “You here alone?”
“Not anymore. Want to walk me to my car?”
With an I-can’t-believe-my-luck grin, he walked next to her and chatted. The parking lot was dotted with cars. There were plenty of streetlights, but they’d look like they were making out when she pinned him against whatever car she decided on to take a vein.
She led him to the far edge, behind the tallest pickup she could find. He crowded her into door.
“I can’t believe a sexy thing like you was all by her lonesome,” he murmured.
Enough small talk. She grasped his chin and caught his eyes. They glazed into the trance. She was free to feed and he wouldn’t remember.
Licking her lips and eying his throat, she cocked his chin up to bare his neck. Her stomach roiled. If she’d eaten anything, this dude would be wearing it.
Strength was necessary for the upcoming days. She bared her fangs, leaned in, paused to gag, then struck.
Salty skin stung her tongue. Warm blood flooded her mouth. Another gag. She squeezed her eyes shut and persuaded herself to swallow.
As the blood was forced down her esophagus, more flooded into her mouth.
Her brain came on board with her body and she couldn’t fight both of them.
Her fangs ripped out, tearing his skin. Trance broken, he barked out a cry. She doubled over, throwing up every drop of his blood.
Her victim staggered back against the vehicle. She sank to all fours and wretched on the ground, coughing and spitting, trying to get control over her rebelling body.
The man clapped his hand over his neck where red rivulets traveled down over his shirt. “What the fu—Did you bite me? Are you one of those freaky chicks who’s into that shit?”
He scuffled away from her, but her higher thinking kicked in. She snagged his shoe and he tripped.
“No way, bitch.” He kicked her hand loose. When he drew his leg back to stomp on her, she calculated the movement. As his foot flew toward her face, she wrapped her hand around his ankle and dragged him under her.
Realizing he was no match for her strength, his eyes widened with fright. Grace perched on top of him and held his face between her hands. Whether this would work or not, she had no experience. Trancing him like she was going to feed, she spoke quickly.
“I tried to mug you, we got into a fight. Your nose bled.” She released him and spit over her bite to heal it. The blood trail running down his neck hadn’t dried. She rubbed her fingers around in it and smeared it over his nose and lip.
If her mental suggestion didn’t work, he’d at least question his memories. For good measure, she tapped his nose. He groaned and his eyes rolled up into his head. To him, it probably felt like a full-fledged punch.
Grace crouched and scanned the lot. No witnesses that she could tell. Everyone drifting through were engrossed in their own nightly adventures.
The guy moaned. She flashed away.
Birds and crickets filled the night air. She found herself where it all had started, in the woods by the river, where her life had diverged from the isolated protection she’d grown up with.
She dropped against a tree trunk. Had she accosted a human? Now she was going to go back and be what, a double agent?
FML to the extreme.
No tears came tonight. Her sorrow was there, buried deep in her chest forever. Osiris hung her birth parents over her head, but her mom and dad were gone. Her best friend…she’d never get to laugh with Nathaniel again. But a switch had been flipped. Maybe she was in survival mode, maybe this was her heritage rearing its head.
Survival. Retribution. She wouldn’t stop until she had answers. No—the truth. Her family deserved it. She deserved it, and she’d play the game to find out.
This time when she pulled up the contacts in her phone, it was Rourke she texted.
I’m where we met.
She held it, waiting for the vibration of his reply.
Leaves fluttered around her and a pair of black boots appeared at her feet.
Rourke crouched down; she raised her eyes.
Her heart stuttered and her blood hunger roared back.
What a male. Concern was buried deep in his dark gaze, eyes so much like his brother’s. Except Rourke’s irises had never flashed an eerie black.
“Where were you?” His voice was a low rumble, half accusing, half worried.
“Is Bishop okay?”
A hint of approval lightened his gaze to a rich brown. The question wasn’t part of her act. She was genuinely fond of Bishop, and while he handled himself superbly against three able-bodied males, she wasn’t a fighter. Things could’ve ended differently for all she knew.
“Frantic he lost you and it’s his fault.”
She sighed back against the tree trunk. �
�I’m fine. I’d rather he concentrate on finding Ari.”
“He’s on it.” The heat of Rourke’s gaze roamed over her. His mouth tightened, his expression turned murderous when he noted the blood around her face, on her hands, sprayed onto her shoes.
“Who do I have to kill?” His lip curled up, revealing a long white fang.
How messed up was it that his proprietary tone turned her on?
He has an obsession with you…
She didn’t believe, couldn’t believe, Rourke had entered her life just to destroy everyone she was close to. Even as he looked ready to commit atrocious crimes because of the blood covering her.
“No one. He was the victim.” She scrubbed her face, but dried blood wasn’t easy to get off. It’d have to wait for a shower. “The carnival’s in town. I flashed there to escape, plenty of humans and all.” Not a complete untruth. “I thought I should try to feed, but it didn’t turn out well.”
“How?” Rourke stood and stepped back. His brow creased and his mouth turned down, like her admission bothered him.
After his reaction to her fang scrape, she didn’t think he’d offer to feed her. If it was a possibility, she’d have planted herself at his door in anticipation.
She panted, focusing on his neck and sinking her fangs into his flesh. Her hunger stirred into a frenzy.
“Grace, what happened?”
He was asking her questions. Closing her eyes to gather her control back, she inhaled deeply. “I puked up everything. He almost got away still bleeding from my fang marks. I think I took care of his memory, though, and sealed the wound. Made it look like he got a bloody nose from a fight we got into.”
He nodded in approval. “Good thinking.”
Of course her beating up a human didn’t faze him. Not when she and Bishop were jumped at the club because his job was to coerce answers and to punish a female, one who helped commit an atrocious crime as a game.
He was everything Osiris painted him to be. Except he wasn’t. He was his duty. His emotions were kept in check, encircled in a wall erected to protect a child left with no way out.
Rourke possessed the inner rage. The cold, calculating demeanor. It was all a part of him, but it was superficial as well. How the two brothers’ pasts had diverged when Rourke was sold was the key. She wasn’t a vampire shrink, but she doubted Osiris had experienced near the atrocities Rourke had. Unless he had and that’s why he’s much more dangerous.
“You need to feed.” He said it simply, but his tone said he knew the answer to her hunger was him, and he didn’t like it.
Well, that made two of them.
“It’s been a few days. I should.” She pushed herself up. Her time hiding in the woods was up, though she could stay here with Rourke all night. Considering the place, it made sense. It was like her family’s presence lingered, faint but enough to comfort her. It was quiet, mimicked her life up until a couple nights ago.
“Perhaps Zoey or Ophelia will offer a vein.” His lips flattened.
Her hunger mirrored his dismay. “I don’t know. I’m still not feeling well. Is there a blood version of food poisoning?”
“Only when…” His frown was in full bloom.
“When what?” If she had some dread sickness, she wanted to know.
While he figured out what to say, she admired his broad shoulders in his tight, black shirt. He was just as hot clothed as he was with no shirt. Man, she wanted to see those abs again. All that smooth olive skin rippling over cut muscles. He didn’t work out; he was just made that way. His waist tapered into leather pants fitted snugly over muscular thighs and incited all her girly fantasies.
The men she’d dated were pleasant enough in the looks department. Their bodies were like hers—okay. She wasn’t the defined, shapely goddess Calli was, nor was she the willowy, strong females she spied at the club. When those males jumped Bishop, she’d been partially relieved because she hadn’t been excited about her plain, frumpy body wandering among cover models.
“Vampires often have trouble feeding from others after they meet their true mate.”
Her parents had taught her about mates, but not the specifics. She had equated mating with marriage in the supernatural world. What was he saying? She had trouble feeding from someone else because she’s hot for Rourke?
“Do you know what true mates are, angel?”
The way her said her name. Like he stroked her center every time. “Boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“Much more. They recognize each other instantly and until the official mating ritual is performed, they can be with no others physically, though feeding abilities vary. Some reject other blood completely. Some just don’t care for another vein. Do you…” He drifted off again as if he abhorred his next question. “Do you feel strongly drawn to Bishop?”
“No! He’s like a giant teddy bear I feel safe around.” Her uneasy gut improved at the thought of taking Rourke’s vein. Could it be…mates? A thrill of excitement shot through her.
The side of his mouth twitched like he was dangerously close to a smile. “Teddy bear, indeed. What about any of the males at the club? Did any of them attract you in any way?”
Irritation quickly took over. After what they shared hours ago, he asked about other males? “In case my orgasm didn’t clue you in Rourke, you may be the one I’m interested in.”
His mouth tilted down again. For a dude who didn’t emote, he sure frowned a lot. “It can’t be. I don’t feel it.”
She reared back like she’d been slapped. “You didn’t feel anything while I was orgasming against your face?”
“Lust of course. Vampires are sexual creatures.”
What the—How could he just—Why was he being obtuse? “You yourself said you don’t like to touch. Do you get that intimate with your former lovers?” She could’ve said previous lovers, but former felt much more accurate.
“Partners. None of them are lovers.”
“And what was I? Partner or lover?”
“We did not fuck. You are neither.” Cold Rourke had returned.
Asshole Rourke.
“You know what? I’m hungry, and there’s a couple hours before sunrise. Obviously, we’re not true mates so I have no feeding obstacles. I should hunt.” She flashed to the parking lot where she’d parked those two nights ago to get away from Rourke and plan where she could lure in a meal.
It was the last thing she wanted to do, but it would get done. Out of spite!
His presence landed next to her. “You aren’t going to hunt,” he growled.
“Go home, Rourke. I’ll return when I’m done.” She couldn’t flash to her old house.
It wasn’t the best idea to pop into the place Osiris had shown her as being a generally safe area to flash, but the carnival was where she went. The fair had gone quiet, having closed for the night during her time in the woods.
A strong hand gripped her arm and she spun to face an irate pair of rich brown eyes.
“Why do you insist on following me, Rourke? Are you offering to feed me?”
He paused, his hand dropping from her arm.
“I thought so.” She stormed through the steel monstrosities that sat quiet for the rest of the night.
His reaction to her shouldn’t hurt her feelings. He and his partners could fuck around as much as they wanted, but Grace didn’t unless she was invested in the relationship in some way. It’d only been two nights since she’d met Rourke, but he meant something to her. She didn’t know what, but he was different.
He stalked her through the fair, the heat from his incensed body radiated to her. Her body reached for it like a drug.
“Grace, stop.”
“Go home, Rourke. This isn’t any of your business.”
“You are my business.” He reached out for her arm again.
For a dude who doesn’t like to touch, his hands were on her a lot.
She spun on him to lay into him about everything pissing her off about him—from his insanely attractive face
to his cologne-ad body to his shitty personality when faint footsteps reached her ears.
“Someone’s coming.” Instead of flashing away, because she didn’t know where to go and she didn’t want to return to her room in the middle of nowhere, she sprinted to the nearest ride promising the most cover.
She jumped the short fence surrounding the Tilt-a-Whirl and chose a seat where the high metal back provided cover. Sliding into the bench seat, she glanced over to find Rourke right next to her.
A human might have caused a ruckus running over the metal plates comprising the base of the contraption, and rocked the steel cup they sat in, but their vampire reflexes weren’t as clunky. She was agile, and he moved like a ghost.
“Hello?” the voice of the security guard called.
Light from a flashlight bounced off railings and signs around them. Grace held her breath.
Rourke leaned over, his lips tantalizingly close to her ear. “Don’t you dare consider him a meal.”
It hadn’t occurred to her. With his breath tickling the sensitive skin around her neck, she couldn’t think of anything other than Rourke’s lips.
The man’s footsteps eventually receded.
“Then who do you suggest I feed from?” she hissed.
His eyes blazed, his lips flattened, and his hands curled into fists. “You want to feed so damn badly.”
A gasp escaped her when he brought his wrist to his mouth and bit into it. The scent of his blood hit her and she was as entranced as the man she’d attacked earlier.
He pushed his wrist against her lips. A cold, impersonal way to feed, but to Grace, it was the sexist experience she’d ever had.
His rich, smoky blood filled her mouth. There was no urge to gag, her stomach purred in delight.
After several greedy pulls, her gaze flicked to Rourke and she stopped, drawing her tongue over the vicious wound.
The torn expression on his face broke her damn heart. Conflicted with desire and terror, it was obvious he fought back horrible memories.
“Oh god, Rourke. I’m so sorry.” She returned his wrist to his lap, wishing she could replace his shell-shocked expression with something positive.
Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2) Page 10