by J. M. Adele
Shiloh stared hard at the video. “I don’t see them anywhere. How do you know where they are?”
“Ren knows what she’s looking for. To the human eye, it might look like a glitch on the screen.” Myles shrugged. “You’ve gotta be quick. Plus, we’re using an app to track Devlin’s cell. Jax is smart enough to have gone off-grid. He’s probably using a burner phone. He has to have a way of contacting his team. He can’t be working alone.”
Evren muttered into her microphone and jabbed at the keys on her keyboard before the image of the lake changed to City Hall. “He stopped. Why did he stop?” she mumbled to herself, eyeballing the video feed before pushing the headphone closer to her ear. “D. Yep?” She frowned and brought up a map of LA on another screen. “Grand Park Station is near there. He could have gone underground.” Again, her fingers flew over the keys and another two screens changed to show commuters packed into carriages on their early morning travels. “Yep, getting a visual now.” Two more screens showed the platforms lined with people waiting for their train.
Shiloh leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. Zeroing in on each of the nameless faces, she saw people engrossed in their phones, chewing their nails, holding novels. Every hint of blond had her narrowing her eyes, but none of them had Jax’s familiar features.
“Running facial recognition.” Zain worked some magic on another keyboard and brought up a picture of Jax. He grinned at her from the corner of the screen, a snapshot of his time as a student, while the rest of the screen scanned the footage of the passengers.
Shiloh reared back, an unstoppable reflex reaction. She was standing here hoping to find him among the crowd, but when confronted with the face of the boy as she’d known him, she felt the sting of betrayal all over again.
Shiloh’s left foot slid backwards, but not by her choice. Her stomach dropped. She dragged her leg forward, fighting against the pull. This time, her right foot slid back. She swallowed, turning to the door. It’s the bond. “He’s not there.”
“We don’t know that yet. Give it some time,” Evren growled.
“No, he’s not there. I can feel him close.”
Shiloh opened the door, racing out of the theatre room just as gunshots pierced the quiet. She bolted into the billiards room next door to get a look through the windows. A cluster of bodies, guards dressed in black, and vampires who didn’t belong, tangled in a fight for supremacy. Dirt showered them as figures flew through the air, gouging tracks into the grass on landing. More gunshots left two guards and one of the vampires on the ground, blood pouring from their peppered carcasses.
Margo broke away and charged at a young guy holding a gun. His eyes bugged out before she punched him directly in the throat. His head snapped back looking like it was about the detach clean off his neck before he crumbled to the ground.
“Stay inside!” Barging past a frozen Shiloh, Ren pulled a gun from behind her back and exited through an external sliding door.
The rest of the pack broke up as two intruders fled. Evren joined four guards in pursuit. She threw out her arms to signal, and yelled instructions for them to split up in different directions. One went with her and disappeared over the wall, following the escapees. The other guards spread evenly around the perimeter of the property, guns pointed to the sky.
Margo crouched over the kid she’d felled as he writhed on the ground. Shiloh’s jaw dropped. How is he still alive? After putting him in handcuffs, the blonde went to stand before another shot rang out. Blood and flesh exploded from Margo’s leg, sending her toppling to the earth. Within a second, the kid had disappeared. Shiloh blinked. Where did he go? The guards came running, pumping off a few rounds over the wall, but it was too late.
She didn’t see him jump. He couldn’t have jumped.
What the hell just happened?
Shiloh chewed her lips, hands pressed to the glass. Do I go outside and help? What if Jax comes back? She felt for the tug. It had faded. If Jax had been there, he was gone again.
Fuck it, I’m going out.
Shiloh yanked the door open, pulling the sash from her waist, and sprinted over to Margo. Stemming the bleeding with the makeshift tourniquet, Shiloh assessed Margo for any other injuries.
“I’m okay, it’s just a graze.” She shooed her off.
Shiloh’s eyebrows climbed as high as they could get. “It’s a gaping hole! I’m going to pick you up and take you inside.”
The warrior scoffed and combed her fingers through her cropped white-blonde hair. “I can walk.”
Shiloh ignored her and scooped her arms under Margo’s knees and back, but as she stood, she squealed, shocked to find Devlin looming over them. He took Margo off her hands and thundered across the yard. She saw the hellfire burning the black of his eyes as she ran to keep up.
Ren landed on the grass behind him, following in their wake. “We lost them.”
“No shit,” Devlin spat.
The goth slowed her steps and shot a foul look at Shiloh before stalking back towards the carnage.
Still several feet away, Devlin flicked a finger at the sliding door before it slammed open, apparently at his mental command. Her whole body tingled, caught in the waves of power he emanated. She remembered how he’d flung Jax against a wall without touching him. If Jax hadn’t had the gun, he’d be imprisoned right now.
After carrying Margo through the billiards room, Devlin headed down the hallway to the bowels of the house. Shiloh stuck with them, hoping she could help in some way. They reached the last door, the barrier automatically swinging wide to allow Devlin to enter.
White tiles lined the empty room with benches and cupboards tucked around its periphery, and a gurney in the center. Shiloh watched from the hallway as he laid the patient down, and Myles slipped inside to attend to her. Tossing around the idea of stepping in, Shiloh teetered on her toes and gnawed on her lip. What could she do? She sure as hell couldn’t give blood. She’d done her first aid course, but applying pressure to stop the bleeding was as far as her knowledge went. So why was she still standing there?
Devlin stepped away from the gurney, turning icy black eyes in Shiloh’s direction. Her hair stood on end, a chill washing over her. There was her answer. She wasn’t welcome. Placing her hand flat on her stomach, she leaned back on the wall and watched as he raised his hand to slam the door. The harsh sound delivered an audible slap in the face. The solid barrier between them appeared to grow as the hallway shrank around her. He had a right to be angry. This was her fault. People were getting hurt because of her. People had died. It was guilt that had her rooted to the spot, sure as if she’d held the gun herself.
How many more had to die before Jax could be stopped?
She walked slowly up the stairs and back to her room, letting her thoughts run riot. She had to stop this. Somehow. She wished her sister was there to help her think it through. Lanie would’ve already broken out. Or at least be planning to. Shiloh had evaded them when she’d escaped from her house. But if she managed to get past all the security here, she knew Devlin would lead an army of vampires in search of her. So many more lives would be in danger.
Trudging to her bed, she went straight to her suitcase to grab some clothes before soothing her worries with a warm shower. Dressed in a loose T-shirt and running shorts, she sat on the mattress and emptied the remaining contents of her suitcase. Two pairs of tennis shoes, another swimsuit, a couple of pullovers and jeans. A scarf . . . it was only September. The cool weather didn’t really start for another couple of months. How long did her mother think she’d be gone? She put all the clothes away in the closet, along with the empty case and returned to sort out the rest. Her laptop, the novel she’d been reading, and a notebook were the only things left. Opening the notebook, she recognized Lanie’s handwriting. In neatly printed capitals, the words, WHO IS DEVLIN? headlined the first page. Under that she’d drawn a triangle, writing names at each point—Shiloh, Seth, and Devlin. And inside the triangle . . . a question mark.
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br /> Damn, that girl is smart. Lanie had been questioning the connection before Shiloh even realized there was one. Now she knew that Jax was using her for revenge. But what did he plan to do with her? Kill her? If it was as simple as that wouldn’t he have done it already? And why, if she died, would he then go after Lanie? How was that going to hurt Devlin? She wasn’t his mate.
Shiloh flipped the page to find more of Lanie’s writing.
Devlin Vice. No middle names.
Born April 11th, 2000. Birth certificate unobtainable.
Lives in The Flats.
Shiloh paused, looking out the window. The Flats? That was bullshit.
How the hell had Lanie gotten his information?
Shiloh’s eyes dropped back to the page.
Transferred from Salt Lake City 4 months ago.
Around the time of Shiloh’s disappearance!
Not on social media.
Who is he?
That last question was circled in red ink.
Shiloh let her arms fall, slapping the book on her lap, and stared ahead. Yeah, who the hell is he? If the address is bogus, the rest probably is too.
The look on Devlin’s face as he’d shut her out replayed on Shiloh’s mind. Like it was all her fault that Jax was after her. That Margo had been hurt. And Shiloh had stupidly blamed herself for it when her finger should have been pointed at his snarly face. This was all about him and Jax and some sort of rivalry. The fact was, she was innocent in all this. And so was Lanie.
Letting her anger boil, she sprang off the mattress. Nobody goes in the east wing? Yeah, fuck that. She was going to uncover his secrets. If no one was allowed in his room, he must be hiding something.
She had a right to know. She’d search the house until she found something. Anything to explain why the hell her life had been blown apart because of some teenage vampire’s hard-on for revenge.
She glided silently across the hallway and down the short corridor to his wing. Jiggling the door handle, she found it locked. Damn. She didn’t have the tools or the know-how to pick a lock.
She tried it again to be sure, and it opened. Weird. She peered through the crack of the door before slipping in, closing it behind her. She scanned the room, slack-jawed.
What?
The room was huge.
And empty.
Light streamed in from the north and south windows, making stretched rectangular patterns on the light gray carpet. She stood with the sun warming her feet, getting her bearings for a second. The east wing had to be way bigger than this one room. The level below it encompassed the billiards room, the gymnasium, and the pool. She noticed a set of frameless double doors with concealed hinges at the far end of the room.
Pushing into a bedroom, she stopped short again. The single occupant of the room—a mattress on the floor—appeared like a small boat adrift on a gray carpet ocean. She’d come here to search for clues, and it didn’t look like she was going to get any. Unless there was something hidden under the bed.
The room was much smaller than the gymnasium and pool, but she guessed there was a bathroom and closet beyond the far wall, similar to her room. Walking past the mattress, she headed to the left side. In her room it would have been the entry to the closet. In the east wing it was the opposite. She found herself in the bathroom. It had dark gray walls paired with sunny yellow patterned tiles, and white benchtops. A deep spa bath sank into the floor. It looked like it could take four people, and hours to fill. He also had a steam, massage shower, but it was built for two. She found a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and a towel, as the only evidence that the room was in use. Opening a drawer between the two sinks, she found a comb, a razor, and a stick of deodorant. No shaving cream. No aftershave. No moisturizer. He stuck to the basics. There were no clues as to who he was. It was like he was a visitor in his own home.
After shutting the drawer, she clasped her hands together before she touched anything else. Maybe she’d find something in the closet, but she couldn’t go in there. The anger drained out of her system, replaced by self-recrimination. What am I doing? She was so far out of line. She’d disrespected his privacy when he’d accommodated her and kept her safe. He had a right to be pissed off that his people had been hurt.
A male voice interrupted her snooping. “Couldn’t find what ya were looking for?”
Sprung
“Shit! Devlin.” She spun around to find him leaning on the doorframe between the closet and the bathroom, a sneer on his face, and flickers of red in his eyes. “I wasn’t . . . Okay, yes I was. I’m sorry.” She backed towards the door to the bedroom, but before she could blink, he was there, arms and legs spread, blocking her way. Waves of dissent rolled off him, pressing on her body. Instead of backing down and giving him all the power, she harnessed it, stirring a ball of fire in her gut. She frowned, watching his chest heave with each breath. “I said I’m sorry. Please move aside.”
“No.”
Her head jerked up and she found his intense crimson stare aimed at her mouth. Her whole body buzzed as her legs turned to jelly. She swayed, reaching for the wall to steady herself.
Moving so fast he was a blur, he clamped his arm around the back of her knees and threw her over his shoulder, dragging a scream from her lungs.
“What are you doing?” She grabbed onto the back of his shirt, her body bouncing with each of his strides.
“Puttin’ you back where ya belong.”
Where is that?
She ended up back across the hall, flung onto the bed in her room.
Folding his arms, he crowded the space at the end of the bed. “Why were you in my stuff?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You ain’t so trustworthy yourself. Your dad should’ve put those bars on your windows a long time ago.”
Shiloh huffed, scooting back to sit up against the pillows. How dare he? “What, so you’ve been spying on me this whole time?”
“Babe, I got better things to do with my time.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits as sharp as a blade. “Why should I trust you?”
“I’m a stand up guy.” His face held no hint of humor and all the marks of an impending explosion. Red eyes, bulging veins, elongated fangs. If she wasn’t so angry, she would’ve been running for her life.
“You’re not a guy.”
“Not even close.”
“Can you blame me for wanting to know who’s holding me hostage?” She got onto her knees and threw a finger in his face. “How are you any better than Jax? Both of you want me for your own means.”
“I’m tryna keep you alive and what did you do . . .?” Locking his palm around her forearm, he shoved her back onto the pillows. Shiloh landed with a grunt. “You ran straight out into the fucking fight.”
“Margo needed help and I knew Jax was gone.”
“How? You can’t trust the bond anymore. You’re too weak and he’s masking it.”
“I know what I felt.” Her voice went quiet, all the fight draining from her.
Devlin circled the bed, planting both fists into the mattress either side of her torso. Shiloh dragged in a breath and froze. What was he going to do? She sensed conflict in him. In the way he dug into the bed beside her but didn’t touch. In the stiff set of his shoulders and the turbulence in his gaze. He wanted to consume her. Was it out of anger, or hunger? Or was he looking for a way to torture himself? Both of them knew he couldn’t take what he wanted. And damn if she didn’t want to cry at that truth. Because for all the bliss she’d felt with Jax, it had been false, like she’d been hooked on a drug—an artificial high. But with Devlin the pull was electric, like she was plugged into the essence of life itself. She wanted to consume him, too.
Did she trust her instinct?
Hell, no.
Could she fight it?
Nuh uh.
Her fangs lengthened in readiness. She corralled a cry of hunger in her throat. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to release it. Scarlet stained h
er vision, just as it stained his. Trembles overtook her as tears welled in her eyes.
The sharp planes of his face seemed to soften, and his fingers flattened, scooping under her in a tender embrace. The red in his irises drained away, making room for flickers of color in that dark midnight gaze before his lips pressed gently onto hers.
Holy shit. The contact lit her body on fire. Her starvation was all but forgotten with the gratification of a different appetite. Releasing a moan, she hooked her arms around his neck.
Pressed chest to chest, their heartbeats galloped in a race nobody could win. A race they had no business starting. She sensed that he knew what she was thinking, but his lips didn’t leave hers for a second. He didn’t push or ask for anything more. She didn’t feel crowded. She felt safe. In that moment, he exposed a side of himself she wouldn’t have believed existed. He could be gentle and caring. He was protecting her, like he’d done from the start.
She pulled back to suck in a breath. “I don’t even know you. Why does this feel so right?”
“’Cause it is. Instincts don’t lie.”
Doubt struck her heart, flushing the desire from her system. She’d believed the feelings she’d had for Jax. Her instincts hadn’t been her own. How could she ever trust them again? “They do when they’ve been hijacked.” Shiloh pushed against his shoulder. “You were angry with me.”
He huffed and eased his head up so he could look at her. “You were outside. That ain’t no place for you. Not while that asshole is still alive.”
“I was trying to help.”
“You put everyone in more danger.” Lying on his side, he tucked her in close. “I was more pissed at me for fallin’ for his goose chase. Won’t happen again.” He flicked a finger and the curtains shut.
She wondered if she could do that, too. Concentrating hard, she pointed her finger at the curtains, willing them open. Her bottom lip popped in a pout when they didn’t budge.
He smirked, grabbed her finger, and sucked it into his mouth before nipping the tip. “Sleep.”
After you just did that? She’d felt that nip between her legs, and squeezed her knees together to stop the sensation. “I’m not tired.”