by Larissa Ione
Bastien appeared to consider what Riker had said. “Why do you care?”
“Because I made a promise to your mother twenty years ago. I promised that I would raise you and love you. I couldn’t raise you, but I can love you.” He inhaled deeply and blew out the breath in a rush. “You’re my son, Bastien.”
“You’re my . . . father?”
Riker nodded. Bastien stared, his big eyes swimming in confusion and disbelief.
And then everything went to hell in a handbasket.
The table exploded upward, scattering cards and knocking Riker onto the floor. Bastien disappeared again. What the fuck?
“Bastien?” Riker leaped to his feet as Grant ran over.
“What happened?”
“I have no idea.” Riker swallowed. “Did you see him . . .”
“Disappear?” Grant nodded. “Amazing. Never seen anything like it.”
A scuffling sound came from inside the teepee. Very slowly, Riker approached the tent and peeked through the flap. Bastien was huddled against a wooden support, curled into a ball under a blanket.
“Maybe you should go,” Grant suggested. “Give him time to get himself together. I’ll have him help me around the lab. He listened to everything they said in the Daedalus facility . . . he’s got a surprisingly competent grasp of what I do in here, and he’s very curious.”
Dammit. Riker had, after twenty years, been given an opportunity to make a wrong right, and instead, he’d fucked it up. And what in the ever-living hell was the disappearing-act thing? He’d never even heard of a vampire who could do that.
“Rike?” Grant tapped him on the shoulder. “Anyone home?”
“Yeah.” Riker nodded, but the question remained. Had Daedalus done something to Bastien? “Yeah,” he repeated. “I’m fine. I’ll send Nicole. See if she can get him to the library.” Mind churning, he headed toward the door but paused as he reached for the handle. “And Grant? Don’t stick him with any needles. He’s had enough of that at Daedalus.”
Bastien had been through way too much at that horror show, and somehow Riker was going to make it up to him.
The Martins would not destroy Bastien the way they’d destroyed Terese.
FOR THE SEVENTH day in a row, Nicole was sitting in the library with Bastien. She’d only seen Riker once, when he’d come to her chambers to check on Bastien’s progress, which, with one exception, had been amazing.
The boy had come out of his shell enough to speak with everyone who spoke to him first, although he was noticeably more reserved with males. He still loved hanging out at the lab, but he eagerly went with Nicole to the library, and Morena had been able to get him to tour the entire compound. He’d been especially interested in the game room, and he seemed to have a particular talent for darts and an unholy love for Xbox games.
The exception to his progress had been Riker.
Bastien hadn’t wanted to talk about him, let alone see him. Morena, used to working with children, had made a suggestion that Nicole was going to put to use today. She just hoped Bastien would be open to talk. And that he wouldn’t disappear under stress, which, he said, was the only time it happened.
And what a bizarre thing that was. Nicole had never heard of a vampire who could make himself invisible, and no one else Nicole had spoken to had, either. No one but Myne.
There are legends, he’d said. Legends of the first vampires, who had different gifts from those the rest of us have. Some are rare, like the midwife gift. Others are only alive in stories. Like traveling through portals or turning invisible.
Looked like that one wasn’t a legend, and if that didn’t stick in her science-minded craw. Riker said that Terese hadn’t possessed the ability, and what little they knew about the male who had sired Bastien came only from the files she’d stolen, and they didn’t mention a tendency to disappear into thin air.
Daedalus had known about Bastien’s talent, though, which explained why they’d kept him for as long as they had. When she’d gone through the files, she’d learned that over the last twenty-two years, the insane breeder vampire had sired thirty offspring with twenty different females, including one child by his own daughter from a previous breeding.
With the exception of Bastien, the children had been raised in human households and were occasionally brought into labs for testing. Two had been “euthanized” and dissected. Apparently, Daedalus had been trying to build a breeding program for years, which would allow them to genetically engineer vampires who would be docile yet efficient in human service.
It would also allow them to breed their own endless supply of test subjects, donors for medical applications, and whatever else their sick minds decided to do with them. No more quotas, no more millions spent to purchase vampires on the legal auction market or to pay poachers to procure wild vampires illegally.
The whole thing nauseated her. How could she have let all of that happen? How could she have taken the reins of a company before she learned the ins and outs of every single project?
You thought you had time. You trusted your parents to found a reputable company, and you trusted your brother to run it until you were ready.
Okay, so maybe all of that was true, and maybe she could actually make herself believe it. But where she really stumbled was the absolutely mind-numbing idea that if she hadn’t met Riker, she either wouldn’t have learned about all of this or she wouldn’t have been as horrified as she was now.
She definitely would have stopped Daedalus, at least to the extent that she could. No doubt the board would have done exactly what they—Chuck, in particular—had already done, by finding an excuse to both discredit and get rid of her.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to see Bastien join her at the table after his foray into the small library’s history section.
“I found a book about vampires and Native Americans,” he said. “Morena and Grant told me the first vampires were from Native American tribes.”
“It’s true,” she said. “All of the oldest born vampires have Native American blood running through their veins. MoonBound’s chief is full-blooded Cherokee, and Myne is full-blooded Nez Perce.”
“Do I have Native American blood?”
Yes, he did. According to his file, the male who sired him was a mix of two of the twelve tribes that had been affected by the virus first: Crow and Nez Perce. But obviously, the truth wasn’t an option, at least, not right now. Someday Riker might tell Bastien about his real father, but it definitely wasn’t her place to do it.
“I don’t know about your mother.”
He looked down at the book. “Oh.”
“But you know, you can ask Riker about it.”
His eyes flew wide open. “I can’t.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to. Don’t let him—”
“Hey.” She took his hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to. But he’s a really good guy, and he loves you.”
“Someone else did, too,” he whispered.
“Someone . . . loved you?”
“He said he did.”
Nicole’s forehead broke out in a fevered sweat. She had a very, very bad feeling about what was coming next. “What . . . um . . . what did he say to you?”
“He said I look like my mother. He said she was pretty.” Bastien’s hands clenched into fists. “He said since she was dead and I didn’t have any parents, he’d be my father.” His fists started to tremble. “He hit me if I didn’t tell him I loved him, too. He broke my arm once.”
Nicole struggled to keep from hyperventilating. She wanted to scream. To cry. To burn down the lab again, but this time with Bastien’s abuser inside it.
Unless his abuser was already dead. Chuck had said Roland was involved with the breeding program. Suddenly, she was glad Myne had killed him.
“Listen to me, Bastien,” she said, concentrating on keeping her voice calm. “Good fathers don’t beat their children. Riker would never harm you. I promise. He’s tho
ughtful, honorable, and loyal . . . and he loves you.” Bastien didn’t look convinced, so she tried again. “Do you trust me?”
Bastien leaned across the table, the slightest quirk on his lips. “Just because I trust you doesn’t mean I trust your judgment.”
She laughed, surprised by his common sense and candor. This was a strong, smart kid, and she had a feeling that with the help of the clan, he’d be healthy, mentally and physically, very soon.
“Busted,” she said. “But you’ll see for yourself that I’m right. Will you at least give him a chance?”
Cocking his head, Bastien studied her. “Do you love him? My father?”
The question caught her off guard. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to marshal her thoughts and emotions, but she might as well have been herding cats. What it came down to was that she’d grown close to Riker, and she’d do anything to protect him. She wanted to heal his wounds, help him deal with his losses, and somehow make up to him what her family had done not only to Riker, Terese, and Bastien but to his entire clan.
Then there was the insane physical draw between them, the erotic pulse that throbbed in the air whenever he was near. When he wasn’t around, there was a distinct emptiness in her chest and a flutter in her belly when she thought of him. She’d never felt this way before.
Did that mean she loved him?
“I guess I do,” she finally said, and the most amazing sense of liberation practically lifted her out of her chair.
All this time, she’d been lost in both the human world and the vampire one, unsure of her future and, at times, unsure of her survival. And while she was between those worlds, she didn’t feel stuck anymore. She was a human among vampires, but she felt far less alone than she had as a human among humans.
Bastien gave a decisive nod. “Then I’ll give him a chance.”
Grinning, Nicole leaned over and pulled Bastien into a big, squishy hug. “You’ll love him. You’ll see.”
For a long moment, Bastien remained rigid in her arms, so stiff she wasn’t sure if he breathed. But as she stroked his hair and just held him, he relaxed, and his arms went around her. She smiled when he snuggled closer, burying his forehead against her neck.
“Nicole?” His voice was tentative, barely audible.
“Yes?”
“He won’t hurt me again, will he?” he whispered. “Chuck can’t find me here, right?”
Nicole’s heart stopped. Chuck? Dear God, it was Chuck who had beaten the boy? With all the strength she could muster, she found her voice.
“No,” she croaked. “He can’t. I promise.”
NICOLE.” RIKER’S HEART jackhammered in his chest at the sight of her outside his door.
He allowed himself the luxury of a slow visual ride down her body, taking in the worn jeans that hugged her softly rounded hips, the fluffy green sweater that matched her eyes and outlined her perfect breasts. She’d slicked her hair back in a barrette, and his fingers twitched with the desire to let her hair down and make it messy.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.” He gestured for her to enter. “We’re working twenty-four/seven on the ShadowSpawn problem.”
He’d spent three full days on the edges of their territory with the clan’s mystic-keeper, Sabre, while they set new wards and traps. ShadowSpawn would have their own mystic-keeper to identify and neutralize their setups, but they’d be slowed, and they’d take injuries.
Nicole stepped inside, bringing her fresh pear-ginger scent with her. “Have you come up with any solutions?”
“No.” He didn’t even wait for the door to shut before he gathered her against him and nuzzled her throat. He’d missed this. It had been far too long since they’d had a private moment together. “How’s Bastien?” It had been killing Riker to not visit the boy, although he’d spied on him from afar when he could.
“He’s doing great,” she said. “He’s so curious. He’ll read anything you put in front of him, and he’s trying really hard to help Grant in the lab. He’s even in his own quarters now. And Myne’s been working out with him in the training room.”
Riker had wanted to be the one teaching Bastien about vampire life, about being a warrior, and a twinge of jealousy shot through him even though he’d asked for Myne’s assistance. Riker had also had to suck it up and apologize to Myne for his behavior the night of the full moon, but like the male he was, Myne had shrugged it off with no more than a clasp of hands and a pat on the back.
“Does he seem happy?”
“Mostly,” she said. “But he needs a father.”
Riker’s chest cramped. “I wish I knew how to be there for him.” Immediately, he sensed a change in Nicole, and when she pulled away, he went on alert. “What is it?”
A shiver wracked her, but he wasn’t sure how that was possible, because it suddenly felt like it was a million degrees in the room. “I know why he freaked out when you told him you were his father.”
“I’m listening.”
She shifted her weight. Glanced around the room. Stalled until he was ready to shake the words out of her. But as impatient as he was to hear what she had to say, he owed her a lifetime of patience. She had been instrumental in bringing Bastien out of his shell. Hell, if not for her, Bastien wouldn’t be here in the first place.
“I’m not even sure where to start,” she finally said.
He brushed his knuckles over her silky cheek. “Take your time.” But, you know, hurry.
“Promise me you’ll stay calm,” she said, and shit, this couldn’t be good, but he inclined his head in solemn agreement. “Okay.” She inhaled and exhaled. Did it again. “When I was little, Chuck hung out with me a lot. I thought it was because he loved me and wanted to spend time with me. Now when I think back, I realize he was usually only around when Terese was there. When she wasn’t there, he always asked about her. I figured he asked because he was uncomfortable around vampires. He didn’t grow up with them the way I did.”
The mere mention of Chuck made Riker’s teeth clench. “Go on.”
“Remember in the lab when he got so angry when he talked about you killing Terese?” All Riker could do was nod. “I think it’s because he was obsessed with her. Maybe even in love with her.”
Riker’s skin grew clammy, and he felt sick to his stomach. “If this is some sort of joke . . .”
“It’s not.” She shifted her weight again, fidgeted with her hair, swallowed repeatedly. And she kept looking at the papers on his desk. Origami withdrawals, he was sure. “I think he transferred his obsession to Bastien. Chuck told him he’d be like a father to him, but when Bastien didn’t return his feelings the way Chuck probably thought he should, he beat him.” She closed her eyes. “I asked Grant to look him over, and he found a number of healed injuries, including some broken bones.”
Nicole’s revelation hit Riker with the force of an avalanche, literally knocking him back a step. A black, indescribable rage carved out his chest, turning it into a fathomless cavern of frost. Even his heart, which had been beating obsessively fast for Nicole, seemed to have iced over.
“Riker?” Nicole reached out, but he dodged her touch, not ready to be consoled by the sister of the bastard who had tortured an innocent boy. “I convinced Bastien that you weren’t a . . . father . . . like that. I told him he could trust you and that you’d never hurt him. Please don’t go to him like this. He’s timid around males as it is, and he associates the word father with what Chuck did to him.”
Father. The word he’d always wanted to hear a child call him was now associated with terror and pain. Just when he thought the Martins couldn’t fuck with his life any more . . .
He concentrated on breathing. Breathing was good. It would keep him from bolting out of headquarters and leaving the entire city of Seattle bleeding behind him as he tore the city apart in the search for Nicole’s brother.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
He had to see Bastien. He glanced at Nicole, which should have comf
orted him, but right now, all he saw was a Martin.
“I need to go.” His voice was utterly shredded. He didn’t even sound like himself. Fitting, he supposed, because right now, he didn’t feel like himself, either.
Nicole held out her hand to him. “Can we talk about this?”
Dismissing her offer, he went to the door. “Later,” he said, although deep down, he suspected that what he really meant was never.
RIKER SEARCHED THE compound for Bastien, using the time to calm down. By the time he decided to check Bastien’s room, his desire to level Seattle had eased enough that he’d settle for only killing everyone Charles Martin had ever known. Then he’d spend a year breaking the man, piece by piece.
He forced himself to walk slowly up to Bastien’s door. The boy was skittish as it was; if he sensed Riker’s anger, every bit of progress Bastien had made could be reversed.
Bastien’s door opened as he approached, and Morena emerged, her curly brown hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot.
“Good to see you,” she said. “Bastien just had breakfast. Myne should be coming by in a little while to take him to the training room.” She smiled. “He’s going to teach him to shoot a crossbow today.”
If that wasn’t a punch to the gut. Yes, Riker had asked Myne to engage Bastien with physical activity, but Riker should be the one to do it. He should be teaching his son to shoot and fight and hunt. “Thanks, Morena.”
He knocked lightly and entered. Bastien was curled up on the couch with his nose in a book, but when he saw Riker, he froze.
“Hey,” Riker said. “Do you mind if I come in?”
There was a heartbeat of hesitation and then a shy “Okay.”
“I brought you something.” He moved to Bastien, going slowly, slowing even more when the boy tensed. Riker silently cursed Chuck to an eternity in hell. And Riker planned to send him there.
“You’re angry.” Bastien inched toward the far end of the couch, and Riker’s throat constricted with disappointment and self-loathing.