by Aliya DalRae
Not a vision, I reminded myself. A dream.
Screw it. With a shudder that had nothing to do with the chill in the air, I loaded up the coffee pot, flicked on the switch and headed for the bathroom. I was delusional if I thought I’d be sleeping any more tonight, and a long, hot shower might help me relax.
I switched on the light and jumped when a black streak of fur leaped from the bathtub and out the open door. Malcolm. I’d wondered where he’d gotten to.
Malcolm was a large black cat who had shown up a couple of weeks after my mom passed away. He and Raven had a special bond, though I wasn’t quite sure what it was all about. From what I could gather, they could talk to each other telepathically, and although Raven never really shared their conversations with me, I was under the impression they weren’t exactly friends.
But I loved Malcolm, and no amount of persuading from Raven, or anyone else for that matter, would make me get rid of him. My best friend, Piper, agreed with Raven, saying he was creepy, but I didn’t care. Malcolm was my absolute favorite out of all the strays that hung around my old farmhouse. I knew it was irrational, but he made me feel safe. I’m not sure what I thought an old tomcat could do to protect me, but when he was near, I knew everything would be okay.
“Hey, King Kat,” I called after him, using the name I’d given him when he first appeared in my yard. It was an appropriate name considering the extreme level of entitlement he exuded. But that was before Raven told me the cat preferred Malcolm. Cripes.
“Where’re you running off to?” I called as he slipped through the kitchen. He paused at the cat flap and glanced over his shoulder at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he looked guilty, of what I had no idea, but it was there nonetheless.
“You didn’t leave me a present in the bathtub, did you?” I scolded. Malcolm sneezed, and pushed his way through the flap and out onto the porch, black tail twitching his kitty version of the finger at me. Guess I insulted his sensibilities, and that made me smile a little as I headed back to the shower.
Chapter Two
D amn woman, Malcolm thought as he squeezed through the second cat flap in the porch’s side door, and out into the cool autumn air. She was supposed to have been fast asleep. In fact, he’d checked before he’d gone to the bathroom to clean up a little. Being a cat was all well and good, but his human side occasionally felt the need for more than a spit bath, and he had been looking forward to a nice shower while she slept.
Fortunately, he heard her on the stairs before he’d turned the water on. He had barely finished shifting back to his cat form when she’d flipped on the light, at which point he’d run from her. How could he be so careless? Jessica Sweet was a wonderfully accepting human being, but even she might take issue with finding a strange man naked in her shower.
And that train of thought only frustrated him further.
For reasons still not clear to him, the Were Pack of Fallen Cross had hired him to keep an eye on Jessica not long after her mother had passed. For reasons of his own, Malcolm had accepted the job, anxious to be able to shun his human form and bury himself in the simplicity of his feline visage.
As luck would have it, he found himself intrigued by the woman, yet was blind to how much he’d come to care for her until that Vampire showed up. At first, he convinced himself his feelings were of a protective nature—he was just doing his job. However, with the Vampire on the scene, he was forced to admit, to himself anyway, that there was more to it.
Watching her give herself to that animal night after night was enough to give a cat hairballs. The thought had Malcolm growling to himself as he ran through the orchard and climbed onto a Y-branch of his favorite apple tree. His thinking tree.
Of all the creatures she could hook up with, she had to end up with the Vampire race’s most feared and abhorrent monster. Christ!
Malcolm closed his eyes, unable to dispel the image of her lying in that forest clearing, her skin flayed from her body, her heart barely beating. In that moment, he’d voluntarily shown his human form to others for the first time in nearly two years. The fact that the Vampire had been able to save her, to heal her with his blood, when Malcolm had stood there helpless—it was tough to stomach. Still, he was thankful. Had she died, Malcolm knew with a certainty that he would have run into the woods, crawled into a hollow tree, and waited to follow her.
Later, as she slept in Raven’s room at the Legion’s Compound, Malcolm had curled his feline form around her neck. It wasn’t much, but he’d done all he could to help her feel safe and comfortable. That was when he acknowledged the true depth of his feelings.
He was in love with the girl.
Part of him wished she had found his human form in the shower tonight. At least the truth would be out, and maybe he’d have a chance with her. Sure, she would be angry at first, but she would come around. He would be able to fight for her, tell her how he’d adored her for months and how he would do anything for her.
Together they could walk in the glorious light of the morning—something her Vampire could never do. And once she understood they were meant to be, they would make love under this very apple tree, the afternoon sunshine warming them as he worshiped her, body and soul.
Malcolm sneezed, rubbing a massive paw over his eyes. Who was he kidding? You couldn’t pry her off that Vampire with a crowbar. He knew he should leave. Go home and get on with his life.
Even as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. That bloodsucker couldn’t be here every minute, and Jessica did have a penchant for finding trouble if there was trouble to be found. He was being paid to keep an eye on her. To make sure she was safe. Malcolm would stay as long as his presence here was required.
Riiiight.
Malcolm would stay here until hell froze up and beyond. Call him a masochist, but he wasn’t going anywhere. One of these days she’d come to her senses, realize the Vampire wasn’t right for her, that they had no future.
And Malcolm would be there, ready and willing to pick up the pieces.
With a sigh and an ache in his chest he had no clue how to ease, he stretched his legs and crossed them on the branch in front of him, resting his chin on his large, black paws. As he drifted to sleep, he dreamed of her.
Chapter Three
T he water was scalding, but he couldn’t stop shaking. Images of the girl flashed through his mind, a strobe light blinking on and off like a scene from a bad horror flick. Flash! Her eyes as he stroked her, pleasured her. Flash! Again as he ripped her belly open. Flash! The blood pooling around her ankles.
He closed his eyes, but the flashes continued. It had to be a dream. None of this was real. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he opened them again, the blood was still there, running in rivers around his own feet, creating a scarlet eddy before swirling down the shower drain.
Grabbing the soap from the dish on the wall, he lathered up and scrubbed everything, doing a full body Lady Macbeth. Out, damn spot!
He suppressed a maniacal laugh, reminding himself that laughter of any kind was not in his nature.
He straightened under the pounding stream shooting out of the large, silver shower head and looked around. It was an open-stall group shower, one he’d renovated himself in this underground bunker that served as his safe place. This space was his and his alone, and he would annihilate anyone who entered uninvited. Kill them.
Murder.
Flash!
He reached around and cranked up the water to full on red and waited for his body to absorb the heat. Christ, would he never be warm again? Plus, his head was pounding, a bull running around in there, beating its horns against the inside of his skull.
He turned, leaned his hands against the tiled shower wall and buried his head in the boiling jets. His hair fell over his face, long, wet and inky black. He drew back to take a breath and, shifting his weight to one hand, brushed the sodden locks from his eyes. Blankly, he stared at the concrete floor, at the slight funnel that ended in
the six-inch diameter grated drain. The water was running clear now. So why did he still feel the stickiness of the blood?
I am Death…Had he really said that? What the hell kind of Hollywood shit was that? She was so young, so innocent, and he had laughed at her when comprehension of her predicament flitted across that perfect face. He who rarely laughed.
He shook his head, trying to get that strobe in his brain to stop, but it was no use. He turned again, leaned against the shower wall, the shaking uncontrollable, and it hit him. It wasn’t the blood that had him in this state. It wasn’t the gore or the terror. It was nothing to do with the girl at all. It was the power he had felt. The utter and absolute control he wielded as he took the girl, forcing his will on her, fucking her as the light drained out of her eyes.
He slid down the shower wall, fell to his knees, practically convulsive with understanding. It wasn’t her death precisely, that bothered him. Collapsing onto his forearms, he vomited, heaving every last ingested ounce of that girl’s blood from the depths of his gut.
It wasn’t like death was a new concept to him, like he had never experienced it before, but this was different. He lurched again, dry-heaving until he thought his toes would come up. But he couldn’t stop. It was the only way.
The only way to deal with the knowledge that he had taken a life, and it was amazing.
Chapter Four
I toweled myself off, pausing to stare at my reflection. Sliding a robe around my shoulders, I watched the light bounce off the highlights in my chestnut hair. I still looked tired, my ice blue eyes a bit duller than usual. However, the water had felt wonderful, the coffee was smelling divine, and the evil of the dream was fading with each passing moment.
I made my way back to the kitchen and poured myself a mega mug of joe, carried it into the living room, and curled up on the sofa. I located the clicker stuffed between the cushions, and flipped on the Food Channel, my not-so-secret guilty pleasure. Guy Fieri was making enthusiastic comments on an oversized burger he was sampling at the awesome diner du jour, and I snuggled in to wait for Raven. I’d managed to kill more than an hour so far, and I found myself hoping he would be early. I was sure if I could see him, feel him in my arms, all my worries would disappear.
At some point I guess I dozed off. When I opened my eyes, it was to the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels of a large vehicle, followed by heavy booted footsteps on my porch.
Finally.
I jumped up, fumbling with the mug that was somehow still upright in my lap. Righting it in time to keep the dregs of coffee from spilling on the carpet, I dropped it on the end table and ran out to meet my guy.
Chapter Five
C hrist, what a night, Raven thought as he pulled into Jessica’s driveway. He couldn’t remember being this tired, ever, and with nearly six hundred years under his belt, that was saying something.
This aimless patrolling Mason had ordered him to do was trying his patience. On top of that, now Tas was on his ass. They’d been working together for weeks, and had a general route that they covered. When they split tonight, though, they missed each other at the regular meet-up, and now the other male was giving him shit about it.
Tas eventually backed down, but only after Raven had gotten intense with him. He hated doing that. Tas was probably the best friend he had, not that it was a long list, but the furtive glances and goddamned concern the Warrior kept throwing his way were pissing him off.
Nobody worked harder for the Legion than Raven did, and this grunt work was getting old, fast. He was second in command for the entire region, for chrissakes, and he didn’t need some Aussie changeling lieutenant riding him like a birthday pony. It was insulting.
Raven raked a hand through his wavy hair and rubbed his temples where the remains of a massive headache still lingered. He shouldn’t let it bother him. Maybe Tas was having a bad day. He was a sensitive, and occasionally the mood of the town got inside him. Not that Raven had noticed anyone being particularly off, but he wasn’t looking for that, was he? He was out there to make sure the Sorcerers hadn’t returned.
Unlikely as that seemed, Mason was insistent. He was still a bit put off by the Sorcerers having been in town without his knowledge in the first place. Now that the Legion was aware of the problems this race could cause, it behooved them to keep an eye out for them. Of course that made Raven best suited for that job. His ability to touch minds was beyond that of most Vampires’. He could see people’s thoughts rather than simply manipulate memories, something any Vampire worth his fangs could do.
Though his talent didn’t work on people of his race any more than a Vampire could alter another vamp’s memories, it worked great with humans, Weres and other animals. As far as the Sorcerers were concerned, he sensed a sort of static, unique to their species. Like magical interference or something.
In the weeks he’d been patrolling with Tas, he had yet to sense a single Sorcerer, but Mason wasn’t convinced, and when the boss said jump, a smart male said frog.
Raven blew out a breath as he sat in the Hummer staring at the spot in Jessica’s driveway where she’d taken out one of the murdering bastard magicians. He shook his head and chuckled a little at the memory. He didn’t know who had been more shocked—himself, Jessica, or the Sorcerer who had taken her for an easy target.
Since the night they had run the Sorcerers out of town, the truth of Raven’s dramatic change from Rapist to Respectable via his final victim’s curse had spread through the ranks. He had a pretty good idea how that info had gotten out. Eventually he would get even with Harrier, who was definitely not on his friends list, but for the moment, what’s done was done.
Only Raven and Mason knew the whole story, though, and that reminded him that he and his Warlord were past due for a serious conversation. Exactly how much of the Primeval’s plan the Warlord had been privy to was a question Raven had yet to present. It was a classic case of “don’t ask if you don’t want to know the answer.” In this case, the longer he put it off, the less he wanted to know.
Besides, he had Jessica now, and because of the incredible gift of her love, the curse had been lifted, giving Raven another chance to prove himself as a Vampire worthy of the race. The Soldiers, however, were taking wagers as to when—not if, when—he would revert to his old ways.
That line of thought made his stomach churn, his last meal rising in the back of his throat. The witch had been right, though. With Jessica in his life, Raven didn’t need the violence. He was revolted by his past, all the more so now that he knew what it meant to love, what he had taken away from his victims and their families. At least that’s what he continued to tell himself.
An overwhelming eagerness to feel Jessica in his arms enveloped him. Raven jumped out of the vehicle and headed for the house, heedless of the small, black form that streaked by him in the dark. A dim light was flickering in the living room’s bow window, and he smiled. She was up and waiting for him.
The lock made a quiet snick as he let himself into the kitchen. Before he could close the door, he was assaulted by a flurry of arms and legs leaping at him from several feet out, long limbs settling around his neck and waist. Soft lips claimed his own, and he kissed her back, matching the urgency in her touch and folding his arms around her to hold her in place. He didn’t know what had sparked this fervent welcome, but he wasn’t about to question it now.
Too soon, she pulled her lips away and rested her forehead against his.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” he chuckled, his arms tightening around her, not willing to let go quite yet. “What’s up?”
“You tell me,” she said with a giggle, squeezing her long legs around his waist and finding the answer to the question with her wriggling rear. She was wearing a faded robe, but it had fallen open when she jumped into his arms. Now that he was aware of her lack of attire, her “what’s up” question was taking on a much greater scope.
“So, are you going to explain to me the reason be
hind this enthusiastic greeting? Not that I’m complaining…” His words were cut off by another passionate kiss, and he groaned as her tongue invaded his mouth and a fire ignited in his belly.
Jessica wasn’t a small girl by any means. She was tall and athletic, and having all that leg wrapped around him was spectacular.
His breath caught as her searching lips moved to his neck, her teeth nipping lightly at his carotid. The dark room was instantly bathed in amethyst light as his eyes sparked with passion.
“Jesus, Jess. Do that again and I’ll take you right here on the table.”
“I don’t care,” she breathed against his skin. “I missed you.” She slid bare breasts down the length of his chest, her feet touching lightly to the floor as she grasped his hand and led him to the living room. They almost made it to the sofa, but she had shed her robe and was undressing him as they went, stalling their progress three steps in. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rained kisses on his chest, her teeth grazing his nipples as her hands felt their way down his sides and rested on his ass.
Pulling her to the floor, he maneuvered her underneath him so he could see her better. Her ice blue eyes were burning with desire for him, something he still had trouble getting used to. For centuries, he’d seen only fear in the eyes of his “partners,” and rightly so, as they had perceived their own death reflecting down on them. The fact that this woman wanted him as much as he wanted her was a concept he could not fathom. But with her hands pulling him to her and her sweet, full lips begging him to take her, he could only accept. She was his.
Raven lowered himself to her and she moaned with pleasure as he slid his length into her. He growled as his fangs surged from aching gums, and he held her gaze as their bodies pulsated with their carnal dance. Jessica screamed as the first orgasm hit her, her body convulsing with pleasure, and Raven joined her in ecstasy not a moment later, his lips pulling back to expose gleaming white fangs.