Slowly, he shook his head once. "You thought it was sexy."
The rough edge to his voice made prickles slide down her spine, and her gaze snapped to his. His eyes were blazing, and his gaze was suddenly so hot she felt her skin began to burn.
She froze, staring at him. "Did you?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I did. It was hot as hell."
The tension between them thickened, until her belly began to throb.
"You want to do it again?" he asked.
She swallowed. "No. I don't."
He smiled, a predatory smile that had all the attitude of the man who'd chased her through the jungle to save her from being incinerated by a madman. "You're not a very good liar."
She lifted her chin and set her hands on her hips, ignoring the trembling of her belly. "You're not a vampire, Eric," she said, redirecting the conversation. "We both know that. You've been running around during the day since we met, and this is the first time you've ever wanted to bite someone, right? So it was just because you were in so deep to those spirits that have some vampire background—"
"I was bitten two days ago, and then I got daggers for teeth, bit you, and fed off your blood." His expression had become grim and serious. "So, yeah, makes a guy think, doesn't it?"
His words settled around them, and she stopped, staring at him. His eyes were dark and brooding. "You don't think you're an actual vampire now? I mean, you can't be. You're standing here sane, right? Vampires aren't sane. Just look at Tristan."
He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Tristan," he said softly, his pain evident in his voice. "The poor bastard."
Her heart softened at his evident anguish, and she nodded. "I know," she said. "He was my friend, too."
His gaze studied her. "You okay? What did he do to you?"
Instinctively, she touched her neck, and Eric's gaze followed her movement. His eyes narrowed. "He bit you exactly where I did?"
"Yes. He was dying. I could tell. He needed to feed." She turned away, suddenly embarrassed by how she'd responded to Tristan's bite. Yes, she'd been thinking of Eric, but there'd been no doubt about the sexual nature of her response to him, even as she'd been trying to get him to stop. She picked up one of the upturned chairs and righted it. "I could see he was present, but the vampire side of him was dominant." She bit her lip as she lifted another chair. "He wanted to kidnap me. He said I was his." She glanced over at Eric. "I was kind of scared," she admitted softly. "I couldn't stop him. You saved me. Thank you."
Eric was quiet, and she glanced over at him. He had a strange expression on his face, one that she couldn't quite interpret. Guilt? Horror? Shock? "Eric? Did you hear me?"
Slowly, he turned and grabbed his own jeans. He yanked them on, his muscles flexing as he did so. Was it her imagination, or was he more chiseled than he had been before? Once his jeans were on, he turned to face her, his hands fisting by his sides. "I'm not the good guy, Jordyn. Don't thank me." He ran his hand through his hair again, in a gesture she was beginning to recognize as indicative of his tension. "We both bit you? How fucked up is that?" He shook his head. "Don't thank me, Jordyn. I'm your worst nightmare. We both are, apparently."
She frowned at his refusal to acknowledge that he'd saved her life. "You went simpatico with some really bad spirits to save me. I think that makes you a good guy."
"No. Just as Tristan is, well, he's not right in the head anymore, I'm also messed up. I'm a monster, worse than he is. If I go over that line, there's no more of me left. Just the predator."
Jordyn bit her lip, thinking of how it felt to have that mist touching her. The unbearable cold, sucking life from her body. There had been nothing of Eric in that nightmare, even though it had been created and built by the very flesh from his body. So, yes, he did have the big, scary, bad guy thing going on, but at the same time, he was Eric. After seeing the love of her life go completely insane and turn into a rogue predator with no mercy, nothing could really scare her anymore, especially not a guy who'd managed to stay completely sane while his body was disintegrating into the funnel cloud of hell.
"Yes, I admit that your woo-woo side is sort of daunting." She gave a slight shrug. "But it didn't get us, so it's okay."
"Is it?" he challenged. "You really think so?"
She frowned. "Well, we're both standing here, so yes, I think we're okay at the moment."
"Well, we're not. Those spirits are all over my soul, eating away at it. What do you think's going to happen to you now? Didn't you feel how they came after you?" He walked over to her and caught her arm, pulling her close to him. "Your blood burns in my veins now. Our souls are interconnected. We're linked on so many levels." His voice softened. "Your goodness saved me, but now the poison that haunts me is a part of you." He ran his finger over her jaw so softly that her throat tightened.
He spoke of terrible things, and yet his touch was mesmerizingly tender. "I feel the same as I did before," she said stubbornly. "I'm not tainted."
"You are. They'll hunt you now, through me. Because of what we just did, you're in my world, my hellish, dangerous, shitty world. Didn't you see your skin start to flake after I bit you?" He closed his eyes and dropped his hand. "You need to go," he said softly. "Get as far away from me as you can. It's your only chance."
"Leave? After all we've been through to save Tristan? My whole town is in danger now, as well." Jordyn shook her head. "No. I'm not leaving. If you're right, it's too late for me to escape you anyway." She raised her chin. "I'm not afraid."
He opened his eyes. "But I am. I'm afraid I can't protect you from myself."
Jordyn's heart thudded at his words. Walter had shown her that a man could kill those people closest to him, people he loved. She'd seen it, and she still lived with the bloodstains on her soul.
And now, here she stood before a man who had the same capacity, and he'd already lived that hell once. He'd already killed those he loved. He'd already had to die to stop himself. And now it was getting worse...and he'd brought her into it. Was she naïve in believing she was safe from his inner beast? "You saved me," she said firmly, her mind rebelling at the comparison to Walter. This was Eric. He was different. He wasn't compelled by some horrific destiny that could not be stopped. He lived in a world of choice, where sheer force of will was a power unto itself. "You came back from the edge. It doesn't own you."
"This time I triumphed over it. I didn't the other time, and people died. People I loved died." He gently clasped her shoulders. "You didn't run away from Walter, Jordyn. You stayed by his side, and he betrayed you. Don't make the same mistake again and trust the wrong man. I'm the same as he is, only worse."
"Worse?" She raised her chin. "How are you worse?"
"Because there's no sheva bond holding us together and forcing me to protect you." His thumbs traced small circles on the front of her shoulders as he continued to hold her, a gesture of affection and intimacy that belied his attempts to push her away. "Walter killed everyone, but not you. He'd never have physically harmed you because your bond with him protected you. I'm not like that. I killed the woman I loved. There's nothing to protect you from me. So, yeah, worse."
She swallowed. "Your willpower protects me."
He swore under his breath and released her. "Hell, Jordyn, I'm not the good guy. Don't you get it? You believed in the wrong guy before, and you paid the price. Do you really want to take that risk again?"
Jordyn thought of her daughter, of her family, of her friends. She remembered the horror of watching the man she'd loved rip them apart as if they were made of rags. She'd believed in Walter so completely. She'd believed in her love for him, and his love for her, and so many had died because she'd been wrong. She looked at Eric, tears brimming in her eyes. "Eric—"
He set his fingers over her lips. "Don't say it," he said. "Just let it go. Let us go. Pack your bags, go back to your life, and let me save Tristan. Now that I've located him, I'll be able to find him more easily."
A par
t of her wanted to do as he suggested. The part of her still bleeding from what had happened with Walter wanted to flee, just as Tristan had told her to do when she'd still had the chance. And here she was, with another Hunter male giving her the same advice she'd ignored from Tristan. Once again, she had the chance to run before bringing hell down upon her and everyone she loved.
Except, there was no one left who she loved. Everyone was already dead.
She'd been running ever since Walter's death, frantically trying to save other women from the men in their lives, living in fear of what could go wrong. But the moment she'd met Eric, something had awakened inside her, something that had been dead for so long. Eric and Tristan had fought for each other against all odds and obstacles, and they'd shared that with her, each of them risking themselves in order to give her another chance at life. Was she going to waste that opportunity and go back to Boston to her shelter, which was being competently run by her stand-in? Or was she going to use that gift to make sure Eric and Tristan didn't pay the ultimate price for helping her? Who else would help them if she left? Eric would have crossed that line tonight if she hadn't been there for him. Tristan had been close to death before he'd fed from her.
They needed her, and no one else could help them, just as how she'd needed them both and they'd stood by her.
She knew there was no choice to be made. She lifted her chin, and faced Eric. "I'm not leaving until we're finished here. We came to help Tristan, and my town." She met his gaze, and didn't say the last words, the ones reverberating so deeply in her heart. Yes, she'd come here to save Tristan, and then expanded that to include her town when she'd realized vampires had returned, but it had become more.
She also wanted to save Eric, not just from the darkness that flowed so freely within him, but also from the guilt that haunted him so deeply. She knew what it was like to have the past wrapped so tightly around her throat that it was impossible to breathe, but being with Eric had loosened that noose ever so slightly. Eric was choking that same way, and he had no one else to stand by him.
Eric grimaced. "Jordyn—"
She marched over to him and glared up at him. "Shut up." She knew she had to stay, but she was barely brave enough to make that choice. She needed him to support her, not talk her out of it.
He blinked. "What?"
"You don't get to tell me what to do. No one does. I have nothing left to lose, except the lives of two brothers who taught me what it was like to believe in someone again. So, no, I'm not leaving. I'm not scared of what you might become. So—"
"Dammit, Jordyn!" Eric grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging in. "Don't you get it? I killed her. Her name was Jane McPherson. She had curly blond hair, dimples, blue eyes, and the most infectious laugh in the world. She fucking lit up my life, and she accepted me as I was. She didn't give a shit about what I attracted into my soul. She was the only good thing I'd ever experienced in my life, other than my brother. I fucking worshipped her, and I killed her."
Her throat tightened at the anguish in his voice, and the depths of his self-hate. "Eric—"
"She was screaming at me to stop while I was killing everyone else. She and Tristan were shouting at me, screaming their heads off. I turned around and walked over to her. I grabbed her around the neck. I can still see her blue eyes the moment she realized I was going to kill her." His voice broke. "Jesus, Jordyn. Her eyes filled with tears as she grabbed my wrist. I can still feel her fingers digging uselessly into my flesh, or what was left of it. She looked me right in the eye and said, 'but I loved you.' And then I killed her. She literally disintegrated in my hand, turning to dust. I heard her scream of horror as her soul was sucked into the hell that lives within me. I still hear her screaming. Every fucking minute of every day, I hear her scream." His fingers tightened. "So don't tell me you're going to stay, Jordyn. Don't fucking do it."
He shoved her away from him and turned his back, striding into David's lab, hurling items aside as if he were searching for something. His back muscles flexed as he lifted the upended cabinet as if it were made of feathers.
She sank down onto the bottom stair, hugging herself as she watched him bulldoze through the lab. She'd felt every bit of his agony when he'd been talking about Jane. It was so obvious that he'd loved her, the kind of deep, uncluttered love that only teenagers can have, and yet he'd stared into her eyes and killed her.
Eric had killed the woman he'd loved in cold blood.
Tears filled her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly, but unable to stop the shivering. He was just like Walter, only worse, because he'd killed the woman he'd loved. "Were you drinking?" she asked. "When you killed Jane and the others?"
He looked back at her, and she saw his eyes were bloodshot. "No."
No. A simple answer that put full responsibility onto his own shoulders. Walter, at least, had been drunk when he'd completed the bond, and then been taken by it.
Eric tossed a chair against the wall, where it thudded with a clatter. "But even if I had been completely intoxicated, it's not an excuse. Walter was an unworthy bastard who betrayed you. The fact that he got drunk shouldn't have changed a fucking thing. He owed you his life, and he stole it from you. Just like Jane and me. There's no excuse in the world sufficient to justify a man who fails the woman he loves." His words were bitter and hard. "Walter didn't love you, Jordyn. I don't care about that damned sheva bond. It's crap, if you ask me. If it was that strong, if he'd loved you that much, he couldn't have done anything that would have hurt you. Let him go. He's not worth all that you've already given him. Just fucking let us all go. We're not worth it." He walked over to the door and kicked it shut.
The door slammed closed, making a loud crack like a gunshot, and instinct made her jump, terror leaping through her at the sound…but it was nothing. She sank back onto the step.
No. It wasn't nothing. It was everything. Eric had just shut her out.
Jordyn hugged herself as she sat on the stairs, trying to hold her emotions together. She bowed her head, resting her forehead on her knees as she listened to Eric muttering to himself as he rifled through the carnage of the lab. She felt his pain. His suffering was so extreme it was eating away at the very air they breathed.
Would he really kill her?
He might. She had to acknowledge that. He really, and truly, might kill her.
Chapter 15
Jordyn let out her breath as she touched the mark on her neck, facing the somewhat less-than-rosy reality that she might be completely wrong to believe in Eric. She had to acknowledge the truth that either brother might kill her. Not because they weren't in awe of how fantastic she was, but because of that parasitic demonic aura that was so fond of clinging to the men she cared about.
In addition, no matter how much of a Pollyanna she wanted to be, after seeing the twins in action, she couldn't deny the fact that they might kill others besides her, turning innocents into a midnight snack, much like Walter had done, but with their own creative spin.
And, finally, they might even lay waste to the entire community of Parrish Creek. Although it wasn't the most idyllic town on the planet, it was her home, her world, and the place where her roots had first sunk into the earth.
So, a potential trifecta for the Hunter men, unless they were the men she wanted them to be.
What if she was wrong? Would saving them cause more harm, both to herself, to the community in general, and even to them? Were they actually the men she was meant to stop when she'd made her vow to protect women from the bad men they loved? Or was she supposed to expand her shelter of protection to include them and protect them from themselves?
An invisible band tightening around her chest, she surveyed the carnage of the basement. There was blood spattered across the floor. Hers? The floor was burned, and the air was thick with the stench of death and decay. Smoke still leaked from the ragged hole Eric had blown through the steel door. So much damage in so little time.
She watched t
he smoke spiral into the air, dissipating harmlessly from sight. The shadows still present in the mist were almost the same as those that had been undulating beneath Eric's skin, a thousand cursed spirits threatening to overtake him.
If she hadn't been here to stop Eric, what would he have become? She bit her lip, unable to deny that he'd been awfully close to the edge. Would he have been able to regain control without her? She didn't think he would have. If not, how many would he have hurt? If she hadn't fed Tristan, who would he have killed to find sustenance? How strong was their will in comparison to the monsters trying to take them?
She bowed her head as the enormity of the situation pressed down upon her. She wasn't sure either brother would have been able to hold their inner monster at bay without her help. If they had any chance, they needed her. But what if she helped them, and they wound up crossing that terrible line anyway, a line they never would have crossed if she'd been brave enough to kill them before they acted? How could she endure what she'd been through with Walter?
Walter. The name that used to spread love through her entire soul now sent a cold ripple of fear and doubt. Was he really as bad a man as Eric said? Was he really not worth all the love she'd poured into him? Should he really have been able to stop himself from destroying everyone, and killing their daughter? Was the sheva destiny not an excuse? He'd told her he'd loved her a thousand times, and she'd believed him. Yet, he'd still turned on her.
Eric had said he'd loved Jane, and yet, his love hadn't been strong enough to defeat the spirits that had taken him—
A loud crash sounded from the lab, making her jump. "Eric? Is everything okay?"
He didn't answer, and the door was still closed, cutting him off from her. After all they'd just endured together, that was his choice? To drive a wedge between them in a denial of the bond they'd just created between them?
Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel) Page 18