Hope. What a fucking joke of an emotion. How long had he held onto hope and no one had come to save him? He’d been a child. As an adult, he’d worked for everything he had. Earned it. No more hoping or relying on anyone.
Is that what Grace had felt? She mistakenly hoped to finally steer her circumstances instead of being driven off a cliff by them?
“Hey, boys.” Ophelia shoved the door open, not bothering to hold it for Grace.
His should-be mate barged out behind Ophelia, but her features only registered mild annoyance. Her cheeks radiated a pink glow, her body was mended, but the underlying pallor concerned him.
“Once y’all finish this search and destroy, we have some shit we need to cover.” Ophelia rolled her eyes toward Grace, who avoided eye contact with any of them. “With my undercover gig, I have to sit this one out, but Creed gets to go and play.”
As if summoned, Creed stepped out into the night.
Rourke wanted answers as to what Ophelia referred to, but Grace spoke first, her voice soft but strong. “How does this work?”
“I can follow your flash,” he replied, ignoring the warmth infusing him just by speaking to her. “Bishop and Creed will hang on for the ride.”
Her nod lacked any confidence. “Okay. Ready?”
He had the urge to reassure her, but he only said, “Ready.”
She closed her eyes, likely to visualize the place. Bishop and Creed each laid a hand on his shoulder and buried their fingers into his flesh to anchor themselves for the ride.
Rourke tensed, and as soon as Grace disappeared, he followed.
There was a slight lag before he arrived standing in front of her like when they’d left. Towing nearly five hundred pounds of meathead slowed him down.
Grace’s solemn gaze rested on a mansion.
“Whoa,” Bishop chuffed. “That’s obnoxious even for a prime.”
“My family’s place is bigger.” Creed wasn’t boasting. It was more like he admitted a shameful secret.
Grace’s eyes narrowed on the place like she had x-ray vision. “His office can be accessed through the front door. It wasn’t locked when he brought me here. Go in, and it’s at the end of the left wing.”
Bishop ran his hands over his weapons for one last self-check before they entered. “Good. If he’s in there, he hasn’t sensed us. That place is massive, we can infiltrate before he realizes what’s going on.”
“Go in the trees, Grace,” Rourke ordered. “Wait for us.”
“Like hell, I’m going in.” Her light brown irises reflected her determination. She wanted revenge. Her negative reaction to Osiris was pleasing, at least.
Creed tapped her shoulder in a placating gesture that curled Rourke’s lip—a mate’s reaction to another male touching his female. “Do you have gun?”
Her fierce expression drained. “No.”
“Knives, daggers, blades of any sort?”
“No.”
“Wooden stakes?” Her glare should’ve skewered Creed, but he only smiled his signature friendly grin. “Then you see why we want you to wait outside.”
“Osiris was alone each time he met me.”
Stubborn female. Rourke pointed out information that hadn’t occurred to her. “He didn’t do all the killings by himself.”
She sighed in defeat. “Fine.” Her gaze captured his. “Be careful. I might be pissed at you, but I don’t want to see you hurt. Not that anything could get to you.”
While her last statement was steeped in bitterness, her concern for him was apparent. For him. His team never worried about him—he was Rourke. But Grace was.
Maybe it wasn’t about whose bloodline came from where, but about who she could finally save.
Chapter Seventeen
The males surrounded the front door. Creed checked for security wires and shook his head. They were clear.
Getting into regular locks was Rourke’s specialty, and he was highly disappointed. The door pushed easily open.
Each of them had a gun drawn as they crept inside. Rourke was reassured by the short stakes secured to his thighs. They didn’t make the best weapon, required a direct hit most vampires were too wily for. But tonight, their target was his brother’s black heart. Rourke would ensure the shot.
Not a single light was on, but they sensed at least five other vampires. Brimstone clogged the atmosphere within the ornate mausoleum.
“Gentlemen,” a male called from the upper level bannister, “we didn’t order any take out, but it sure is appreciated.”
Shadows moved above and below them. Five against three, and they still hadn’t found Osiris.
“We’ve got this.” Bishop’s lips hardly moved so the attackers wouldn’t hear.
Creed fired the first shot. No more posturing, they needed the fight to start so Rourke could break away.
It worked beautifully. The five males jumped them at once, one male aimed for Rourke.
Rourke holstered his gun and pulled a dagger into each hand. The attacker spun in with incredible speed. Rourke held his ground until the male was close enough. His fist shot out, catching the attacker off guard. Knuckles connected with cheekbone and the male flew back. Rourke yanked a stake free from behind him and landed on top of the thug, nailing him in the chest. Before the pile of dust formed beneath him, Rourke was up and racing down a long hallway.
It was a shame his attacker perished so quickly, but it worked in Rourke’s favor. Bishop and Creed wouldn’t be long. The five vampires—now four—they faced were too used to exerting their strength over those who were weaker. Rourke and his team hadn’t coasted through their fighting life like that.
He located the office Grace had mentioned. Barging in, he smelled his brother under the layer of sulfur woven through the room. But Osiris was gone.
Rourke inhaled deeply. The scent was so strong, his brother must’ve just left.
The coward. Sensed the presence of justice coming for him and jetted, leaving his lackeys to take the fall.
Sounds of fighting had diminished by the time Rourke stalked out of the office.
Creed waited at the end of the hall. “Anything?”
“Just left.” Rourke systematically searched every other room off the hall. With Creed’s help, they finished in seconds.
“Bishop’s taking the upper level.” Creed jogged through the main floor. “Nothing.”
Bishop leapt over the bannister to land soundlessly on the marble floor. “All clear. They may have an escape route from the underground level.”
Rourke kicked one of the ash piles at his feet. Not nearly as satisfying as a body, but less blood all over his clothing. “Osiris wouldn’t go there, unless it was to escape.”
Creed wandered to a china cabinet and traced his fingers along the ornate detailing on the front. “If he ran, where would he go?”
Rourke’s brow creased in thought. “Our childhood home is out of the question.” Was there anyone he would—fuck. “Grace.”
***
They’re inside. Grace’s stomach flipped, and she hopped from one foot to the other. Ophelia’s blood was the equivalent of guzzling two energy drinks within minutes. How did her kind do this their whole life? No wonder vampires were long and lean. They must never quit moving. Then Grace remembered all the sex. Yeah, made sense. She had chalked it up to the excitement of first love with Rourke, but feeding from him charged her sex drive batteries.
A sigh escaped. Rourke. He’d actually seemed to warm to her a little earlier, not quite the cold shoulder she got when she’d come to after the demon extraction.
Settling into a crouch when she heard voices, Grace scanned the vast expanse of the lawn. The night was partially cloudy and it’d been two weeks since a full moon. Lighting wasn’t the best, but Grace’s vision made out the open front door.
The noise of fighting reached her ears. She hated hiding in the trees to protect herself, but she grudgingly accepted they had been right. The reality of them engaging in fights to the death
drove home the fact she would’ve been nothing but a liability.
Would Ari be inside? During all of her own drama, he’d been gone, helpless. At the mercy of a ruthless male motivated by selfishness to aid the underworld. And Ari was three-years-old. Not much defense against Osiris.
A stick cracked on her left.
She rose and spun to face glimmering dark eyes.
“Osiris.”
He drew in a full breath, his nostrils flaring wide. His face lost a few shades of color and his eyes grew wide. “Where’s Bita?”
“Oh, you noticed I quit using my brimstone perfume?” Tonight, her shortage of a verbal filter would be her best asset or her biggest disadvantage.
She had no idea what Osiris planned for her now, but the guys were bound to return soon. Keep him talking.
“Impossible.” His expression was full of disbelief. He sucked in more air to double check. “Fucking impossible.”
“Seriously, it’s not. Want to know how?”
Black bled into his eyes. Dammit. The demon inside of him disliked her offer. Damn her mouth.
“Well, I don’t know them. Bita hogged my body,” she rushed out. Totally true. Grace had no memory of when the demon took over, and she hoped the demon bought it hard when the incantation was read.
His eyes faded back to his normal brown. Grace exhaled in relief. Her last confrontation with Osiris’ demon was a horror movie come to life. Sad that “just Osiris” was a more desirable situation.
“Then Bita saved your life. If you had heard the words spoken to exorcise her, you’d be targeted for death.” Osiris’ gaze turned calculating. “However, you’re still useful.”
She took a step back. He prowled forward. She hastily backed up until she was clear of the trees.
“Grace.” Rourke’s voice echoed through the night. She spun to see him sprinting across the lawn with a look of sheer terror. Bishop and Creed exited the mansion after him.
An arm wrapped around her throat. Osiris yanked her against his hard body. She threw her elbows back, but she might as well have been hitting a sheet of plywood. His other arm banded around her waist. She stomped on his feet, kicked his shins, until he tightened his hold around her neck and cut off her air.
“Stop,” he ordered Rourke.
Rourke zeroed in on her face, noticing she struggled for air. He pulled up short, holding a hand up to stop Bishop and Creed behind him.
“Ozias.” Osiris had an unreadable tone. His grip loosened, and she gulped in oxygen.
Grace expected hate, distain from Osiris for Rourke. His muscles vibrated with an unidentified emotion. She didn’t know if it was a good sign or bad.
“Osiris.” Rourke’s eyes were glued to Osiris’. “Why Grace?”
“The Circle will either want her dead for being a vessel fail for Bita or use her again.” He shrugged, momentarily closing off her air supply as he did. “She said the vows once; she’ll say them again.”
The idea sent a tremor through Grace. Hosting Bita again, losing her body to an evil entity… “I won’t.”
“All the threats still apply.” He sounded so sure, so smug.
Rourke’s gaze narrowed. “We have her parents. You’ve killed everyone else around her.”
With sickening dread, Grace realized the trump card Osiris held.
Osiris grinned against her hair. “The boy.”
Not Ari. So many had suffered because they wanted her, but Ari was by far the youngest and most innocent.
Rourke tilted his head as if considering the validity of Osiris’ statement. His expression filled with disgust. “Why would you still have him?”
“Not for the reason you think. Sorry to disappoint you brother. I don’t do that to children.”
A snort and an eye roll escaped Rourke. Apparently, Grace wasn’t the only one to squeeze emotion out of him. “But you stand by while it’s done to them.”
Osiris’ intense energy faded into stillness. “You forget Ozias, life wasn’t kind to me, either. Why do you think I wanted the money so badly? To share with parents who viewed children as an inconvenience and a resource to utilize?” He gave an indignant huff. “I used your misfortune to get myself out of there.”
Rourke nodded, like Osiris’ words confirmed something. “You killed them.”
Fear shot through Grace. The brothers’ parents were awful people, but if Osiris had been a minor, he’d started his killing spree early.
Osiris laughed darkly. “Want to thank me?”
“Was it before or after you sold your soul?”
“Touché, brother. After. Unfortunately, our dear mother and father kept me too weak to fight back.”
“Let me guess how it played out. After they tried with me, whatever demon involved noticed you were older and more desperate to escape. The demons cut a deal. You get riches, and they’ll help you gain freedom if you host.”
“Bingo.” Osiris sighed dramatically. “This conversation is getting boring—”
“Was there any time you thought to go after your twelve-year-old little brother who’d been sold as a blood slave?” Rourke’s voice was quiet, laced with sorrow. Grace’s heart cracked. He was a grown male, but a part of him was still the young boy who harbored a spark of hope that at least his brother might help him.
Staggering grief poured out of Osiris. “There was a time when I wasn’t a heartless bastard, Ozias. And that was right after I gained freedom and was forced to grow strapping and healthy for the demon to enter me. It was clear where my road led. I couldn’t take you on it.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Rourke’s look of derision hit Osiris hard. He went rigid behind her.
“You should thank me,” he said between clenched teeth. “You would’ve never met Grace if I hadn’t let those humans find her.”
Grace twisted in shock to see if Osiris was joking.
Rourke jerked like he’d been hit. “You lie.”
“Enough of this.” Osiris gripped her closer and flashed them away.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as Grace disappeared, Rourke followed. There was no time to discuss anything with Bishop or Creed. He found himself back in the woods where he’d met Grace.
The surprise on Osiris’ face when Rourke appeared was gratifying, and he took advantage of it. He flashed again to behind them.
Rourke snaked his arms around his brother’s neck and jerked him to the side. Grace staggered free as Osiris’ hold loosened to wrestle Rourke.
An elbow bashed Rourke’s ribs. He grunted in pain and kicked Osiris’ feet out from under him. As his brother fell, he dragged Rourke down with him. They rolled through the grass. Fists flew. Rourke’s mouth dripped blood. Osiris landed a knee in his gut. Rourke grunted as searing pain followed. An organ had to be ruptured.
“You’ve been such a fucking thorn in my side.” Osiris’ hands wrapped around his throat.
Rourke shoved his arms through Osiris’ and forced them apart. Osiris’ hold released.
Rourke drew his arm back and released a punch to his brother’s nose. “Where’s your demon now?”
Osiris flew back, alarm in his eyes, blood gushing from his nose. “I think he wants me to have it out with you. Get it out of my system. We’ve come to understand each other.”
Diving to land on him, Rourke reached to snag his last stake. He pinned Osiris with a hand pressed to his shoulder, his knees in his brother’s pelvis.
Osiris knocked the stake from Rourke’s hand. Both rolled to dive for it, but Grace beat them to it. His brother’s fangs bared, he bucked Rourke off, and lunged for Grace. With a roar, Rourke grabbed his legs and yanked Osiris back under him. Rourke held his hand out and on cue, Grace tossed the stake to him.
He snatched it out of the air, raised it high, and hesitated.
Had Osiris really tried to protect him? Rourke’s memory was hazy, supposedly from one of the Circle trying to bond with him. Had Osiris suffered as much as he had?
“Do it.” Black
was bleeding into his eyes. Osiris shook from the effort of keeping the demon at bay. “He’s taking over. He might look the other way when it comes to some things, but he won’t let you win.”
“I can save you.” Rourke didn’t know why he offered, other than he felt like he had to. They were brothers.
“The kid’s in the basement. I couldn’t hand any children over—not after failing you.” His brother’s bleak expression read defeat…and acceptance. “Do. It.”
Osiris knew he was beyond saving. If Rourke wanted to help him, to preserve anything of their familial bond—
Rourke slammed his weapon into his brother’s chest just as the whites of his eyes disappeared. Osiris’ eyes widened in agony, his mouth opened in a silent scream, his chest bowed out. Rourke jumped off of him. He swooped Grace up and put as much distance as he could between them and the yawning black chasm opening up under Osiris to drag his demon back to Hell.
Grace’s heart clattered against his chest. Her arms wrapped around him and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder.
Ash fluttered in the breeze. The last of his family. His only regret was that Osiris’ demon wasn’t in his true form; he was only sent back to the underworld instead of being dusted with his brother. He gently set Grace down.
She gazed up at him with watery brown eyes. “Are you all right?”
An emotion he didn’t want to name plugged his throat. “We have to find the boy,” he said roughly before flashing them back to the mansion.
***
As soon as Grace reoriented herself, she planted both of her hands against Rourke’s chest. “Hold it right there, mister. I have something to say first.”
Irritation shot through his expression. And too damn bad. She wasn’t going to tiptoe around him until he decided to face his feelings and talk to her. Because that would never happen. Not with his emotionally sterile place and precise eating habits. He’d use the time to fortify the wall against her and spray it with repellent.
“We need to find the boy,” he said with a growl.
“Call Bishop and Creed. I bet they’ve already found him.” Her hands splayed across his impressive pecs, and she was in no hurry to move them, nor her gaze glued to his body.
Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2) Page 19