He brought her hand to his lips, tracing a kiss over each knuckle. "It's not your job. I love my brother, but he was a bastard for tying you to us. He's never anchored us to a living person before. He's always chosen spirits of the dead with a strong benevolent presence. I don't know why he selected you." His eyes were haunted. "I would never have brought you into this hell, and I'll find a way to free you from him. Got it?" Contrary to his words, however, he didn't release her hand. He just kept pressing kisses to it. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry beyond words that you were brought into this nightmare, and I'm sorry that you're my salvation. I didn't realize it until a few minutes ago, when I felt how badly I needed you to be mine." He shook his head. "I wasn't joking about that, and that's when I realized what had happened. But your role is finished, and I'm releasing you—"
She put her hand over his lips, silencing him. "Shut up."
His eyebrows shot up. "Shut up? You only say that when I'm trying to get you in bed, not when I'm setting you free."
"Hello? Did you hear me tell you to shut up?" She shook her head when he tried to talk. "Eric, you're one of the most idiotic men I've ever met. Do you really think there is a chance I would abandon you?" Her heart softened at the look of surprise on his face. "How can I possibly abandon you to the life you've endured for so long?" She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. She felt the steady thump. "Your soul was stripped from you three hundred years ago, and yet you bleed with emotions so vivid they almost tear both of us apart. Your need for me breaks my soul, because I feel the same way for you. I won't leave you, Eric. I want to help you reclaim your soul." She couldn't quite say she wanted to be his anchor. Being forever bound to a man again was beyond what she could accept. But she would give him everything else she could.
"I can't reclaim my soul," he said. "It's gone. Believe me, we've spent three hundred years researching it. All I can do is hold on as long as I can." He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and feathered a kiss across her lips. "Every moment with you gives me more time. Every kiss heals one of the millions of fragments in my soul. Every drop of your blood assuages the hunger burning through me. You give me time, Jordyn. Time to find Tristan, to stop Cicatrice, and to inhale your scent one more time."
Tears threatened at his words. "How can you be so romantic?"
"I'm not romantic. You know that. I just like breathing you in." He pulled back. "But when I'm out of time, you must do what you promised."
She knew what he was talking about. "Kill you."
He nodded. "It's no longer simply about defending myself against the spirits. Now we know that at some point, I'm going to become a true predator, like the vampire that haunt the legends of this town, because I'm extremely powerful. Are you with me?"
She bit her lip, but she nodded. "Don't make me do it, or I'll hate you forever."
He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "It would break my heart to have you hate me, so I'll do my best to stay on the right side of sane." He touched her neck and sighed. "Now, it's time to make some vampire plans, don't you think? We need to bring Tristan back and kill the bad vampire."
She caught his wrist as he rolled off her. "Eric."
He paused and looked back at her. "Yeah?"
"Do you truly believe you're going to turn?"
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. "I swear on my life that I will do everything in my power to protect you from having to kill me. I will fight it with every last breath of my body, because if I succumb, I lose you forever, and that's not acceptable." He kissed her once, hard, and then turned away. "Time to get dressed, Jordyn. Sunset doesn't wait."
She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest as she watched Eric get dressed. His muscles were rippling, and power seemed to radiate from his nude body. He moved with swift grace and ease, with the stealthy lines of a predator, even when he was engaging in the simple act of getting dressed. She thought of how he'd suffered, of what he and Tristan had endured together. "If I said that I was yours, would that save you?"
He glanced over at her, his hands stilling on his boot. Electricity leapt between them, and the air in the room became so dense she could feel it coating her flesh. "It would take more than that," he said. "It would take a merging of our souls that would be so complete that we'd never be complete again, unless we were together. It would be like what I have with Tristan, but far more."
Heat rippled over her skin. "How do you know?"
"Because I met one vampire who'd done it."
"Did he have a soul?"
"His woman's soul had expanded and given itself to him, recovering the lost fragments of his. It wasn't complete, but it was enough."
The room was silent and tense. "Do you want that? With me? To be a part of me forever?" She could barely breathe her chest was so tight. What he described was similar to the sheva bond, but it was so much more. Giving up a part of her soul to him? It was terrifying, but at the same time, it felt right beyond words, as if this was the place she was supposed to be, that this moment, with Eric, was what all the paths in her life had been leading toward.
A fire of longing flared in his eyes. "You would do that?"
No. Yes. "I...I don't know."
"There was one more aspect to it." His gaze was heated, burning through her.
"What?"
"Love."
She stared at him. "Love? Well, of course there had to be love. You don't do that with someone you don't love, with someone who isn't the very air you breathe every minute of every day."
His eyes darkened. "Honey, I can't even comprehend that kind of love, let alone offer it to you. Love has to go both ways, and I have no idea how to go there."
His words made her heart freeze, and all the thoughts and emotions that had been pounding through her congealed into a solid lump of pain. She realized, too late, much, much too late, that she'd fallen for him. Did she love him? She didn't want to. Oh, God, she didn't want to. Love brought so much pain and terrible decisions. "Okay," she whispered. "That's fine."
He walked across the room to her, and leaned on the bed so his hands were flanking her hips. "But I'll tell you one thing, Jordyn. If there was any chance that I could be that guy and feel that emotion, you're the woman I'd do that for. No one else. Just you." He pressed a hard, fierce kiss to her mouth that tore at her heart.
Before she could respond, he broke the kiss, and walked out the door.
***
Eric leaned on the kitchen counter, his fingers digging into the Formica as he listened to the sounds of Jordyn getting dressed in her room. The urge to haul ass back up the stairs and take her up on the offer she'd almost made was so strong that he didn't dare take even a step away from the counter, fearing it would lead him right back into her room.
He hadn't meant to revisit his memories, and he sure as hell hadn't meant to drag Jordyn into them. It had just happened, an automatic pull toward the past, toward the unending taint that had become increasingly virulent in his mind. There was no way he was going to trap Jordyn in his downward spiral, no matter how tempting it was for both of them.
But, he had to admit, the moment when she'd looked at him, and he'd realized she was actually thinking about it…damn. It had been the best moment of his life to have her look at him like that. It was enough to make a man want to be more than he was capable of being. How the hell had Tristan been amoral enough to trap her the way he had?
But hell, he'd almost been willing to do it back there, himself. He'd never do it, but the thought of being bound to her filled him with relentless need. She was a light in the darkness that had beat at him for so long. She was his anchor, not because of Tristan, but because she was funny, irreverent, brave, and vulnerable. She was able to see through all the shit he dished out. She made him feel alive, like a human being, in a way that he could barely remember feeling. He was used to being the monster, and more recently, too damn close to being a vampire.
Vampire? Really
? He ran his tongue over his teeth, but they were flat again. Did they emerge only for Jordyn? Grimly, he stared out the window at the yard, contemplating exactly how deep he might drag Jordyn if he took her with him. The grass was patched and worn, as if David never bothered to notice he had a lawn, let alone take care of it. Just beyond the tired lawn were the thick woods of the swamp. The edges of the woods were lit by the rising sun, but ten feet inward was untouched by the light, a haven for vampires that was protected from the sun by trees too thick to penetrate.
He could see the path his brother had taken as he'd fled from the house. His footprints were invisible to everyone, except to him. It was easy for Eric to discern the traces of energy Tristan had left behind. He stirred, moving closer to the window. Would he be able to track him? Could he find him before he even awoke? Adrenaline raced through him. Yes, he could do it—
He noticed a ray of sunlight drifting across the countertop toward him and stopped inching toward the door. He watched it for a long moment. Sun had never bothered him before. Had that changed? He slowly slid his hand across the counter toward it, his index finger extended. He paused with the tip of his finger at the edge of the sunlight, then moved his hand into the sun.
Pain exploded through him, and he jerked his hand back. His skin was blistered and red. He let out a breath, then flicked his finger at the wound. Green mist swirled from his hand and wrapped around his injury like a glove. Green light glowed, then sank into his flesh, leaving behind no trace of the burn.
It was as if it had never happened...but he knew it had. There was no way to deny it anymore. The inner vampire he'd been denying for three hundred years had finally begun its inexorable creep of possession.
What next? Would he eventually have to go to ground during daylight hours, buried deep in the earth like a monster while Jordyn thrived and flourished in the sunshine, on the surface of the earth? How the hell could he ask her to merge with him, to bind herself forever to a man who was trapped in the shell of the dead?
He wouldn't ask her.
Not that it would work anyway. Love was something he had no concept of. There wasn't a forever for him. There was only a never.
He swept a protective coating of green mist around his hand, and then slid his finger into the sunlight again. The heat prickled, but the protection he'd woven kept his skin from burning. He held it there, counting the seconds as the temperature rose and his skin began to hurt. The blisters started at forty-two seconds. Swearing, he jerked his hand back. He could protect himself from the sun for less than a minute?
Grimly, he looked out at the world of daylight he'd taken for granted for three hundred years. No longer. He fisted his hand and began to call more magic to him, needing to see how well he could protect himself from the sun. Could he shield himself long enough to search for Tristan?
"Eric?" Jordyn's voice broke through his reverie, and he spun around, startled that he hadn't sensed her coming.
She was on the bottom step, wearing a pair of faded jeans he hadn't seen before, and a hot pink tank top that reminded him of the one she'd been wearing in the jungle the day they'd met. Her hair was in a ponytail, her feet were bare, and she had no makeup on. She was pure earth and nature, simply a woman.
And she was beautiful.
His gut clenched, but he didn't move toward her. How was it possible for him to need another human being this badly? "You okay?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he'd intended.
She nodded, her gaze searching his. "We need some stakes."
His own heart seemed to burn at her comment, and he instinctively channeled energy toward his chest to protect it. "Really? Stakes work?"
She shook her head. "Ordinary ones don't do much. They must be engraved with certain runes. I'm going to go look through my grandmother's book and see if I can find the right design. If you can get us the wood, then I'll work on the designs." Her gaze flicked toward the broken picture window. "I don't want to kill Tristan," she said softly. "I'm hoping my grandmother's book has another way."
He narrowed his eyes. "What exactly is in your grandmother's book?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "She never let me read it." She glanced at the fridge, and a sudden yearning flashed across her face. "Is there any food? I'm starving."
He noticed then how drained she looked. What kind of a bastard was he? After all she'd been through, she needed sleep and food to heal, not endure a lovemaking session that was so passionate that it had pretty much flatlined him as well.
She frowned. "Eric? Did you hear me? About the food?"
He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. All he wanted to do was drop to his knees at her feet and declare himself to her, to pledge his oath to protect her for all eternity, to ensure her incredible spirit would be forever safe from creatures like him. "I'll find something for you to eat," he finally said.
"Okay, thanks." She hesitated, as if she were going to say something else, then she shook her head and walked into the dining room where her grandmother's book lay on the table.
Eric slumped against the counter and closed his eyes. How the hell was he going to be around her without throwing her over his shoulder, vaulting up the stairs, and losing himself in her until the rest of the world ceased to exist? His attraction to her was so strong that—
His eyes snapped open with sudden realization. His response to Jordyn was the same as his response to Jane and the other woman. It hadn't started that way with Jordyn, but something had changed. His entire soul burned for her on every level of his being. Stunned, he backed away from the dining room where she was pulling out a chair. He could see her bending over the book as she opened the front cover. He saw the delicate curve of her neck, the tilt of her nose, the soft waves of her ponytail as it curled around her neck. The world disappeared until it was only her, until his entire body howled with the need to go to her.
"Shit." He stumbled backward toward the door. He needed to get out. He couldn't do this to her. He reached the backdoor, and put his hand on the knob. He could feel the heat from the sun burning his back. Would he even make it to the woods? Could he get that far?
He pulled the door open, and his skin began to sear. He tried to weave a protective spell over his body, but he couldn't keep his focus long enough to do it. Shit! He would die if he left the house. He could tell he'd never make it to the woods. But if he stayed...would he kill her? Would he disintegrate her? Where was the knife? Did she still have it? He saw it then on the floor by the dishwasher, right where he'd swept her up in his arms before they'd made love.
"Jordyn," he rasped out. "Get the knife. Now."
Chapter 19
At his sharp command, Jordyn looked up quickly. Her eyes widened, and then she leapt up, her face etched with concern. "Eric. What's wrong?"
"Get my knife." He jerked his chin at it, gritting his teeth against the pain in his back. "Just get it now."
She ran over and picked it up. "What's happening to you?"
"You. It's you. It's the same. Like it was with Jane." How could this be happening? He had been so sure it was different with her. But he could feel the haunting, relentless drive to possess her. It was so much more than sex. It was a pulsating attraction that came from somewhere so deep inside him that he couldn't even source it. It was beyond him, beyond who he was, beyond anything he could control.
Realization flooded her face, and she paled. "It can't be. It has to be different."
"I need you." Three simple words, but he poured all his feeling into them, showing her the depths of his need for her.
Her cheeks flushed, and a smile erupted on her face. "Wow. No one has ever needed me like that before."
He blinked at her cheerful demeanor. "What?"
She shrugged. "It's kind of intoxicating." She held out her arm. "Goosebumps, see?"
Why the hell was she standing there, watching him like he was some fascinating science experiment? "Get the knife ready, Jordyn."
She made a face. "No. No knife. N
ot today."
Hell. What was wrong with her? "Don't you get it? I'm about to disintegrate you. That's not a healthy kind of wanting."
"Yes, it is." She lowered the knife and walked over to him. "It's different, Eric." She placed her hand on his cheek, her touch cool and soothing against his hot skin.
He closed his eyes, his body stiffening. "Babe, you gotta back off. Really."
"Babe? I'm not a babe." She lightly smacked her palm against his cheek. "My name is Jordyn, you arrogant male, and you are not about to turn me into a billion screaming particles of suffering and torment."
He opened his eyes to find her grinning at him, her eyes sparkling. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"
"Lots of stuff," she said cheerfully. "A lot more than you know. I have a lot of baggage, even for a woman. But—" She poked his chest. "—you are not one of my problems right now. Don't you recognize what you're doing?"
He wrapped his hand around her index finger and pointed it away from him. "I'm trying to save your life. Most women would find that an admirable quality in a guy, instead of trying to talk him out of it."
"It would be admirable, but that's not what you're doing." She wrapped her hand around his, her fingers a warm temptation. "What you're doing is projecting your fears about the past onto the present, even though the situation is different. You need to evaluate the present and see this moment only for what it is."
He couldn't stop the slow grin from curving his mouth. "Therapy again?" Why did he find it so damn cute when she tried to heal his damaged psyche? "It's like you actually believe that you can save me."
"Don't be ridiculous. Only you can save yourself. All I can do is point your stubborn head in the right direction, and kick you. The rest is up to you." She raised her brows. "Seriously, Eric, I can see it in your eyes. You're nowhere near that state of being about to disintegrate me. I've seen you do that, and you're not there right now." She beamed at him. "You're just finally acknowledging to yourself that I'm really fantastic, and you can't resist my charms. You burn for me desperately, and it scares you, because you're a stereotypical guy who wants to be an emotional island. It's not deadly. It's just called goddess worship."
Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel) Page 23