Meet Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #2)

by Lisa Olsen

  “He’s sort of seeing Bridget.”

  “Oh, well that’s okay,” his expression eased.

  “I’m glad you approve,” I hid a smile as I let him into the apartment. “I’m sorry if I pulled you away from anything important.”

  “It’s fine, I’ll take a distraction like you any day,” he grinned. “And this could even be construed as an official visit. You said someone destroyed everything you own?” A skeptical brow was raised as he took in the undisturbed room.

  “Okay, not everything,” I allowed, leading him to the bedroom. “Just everything in here.”

  Bishop let out a low whistle as he took in the destruction. “Someone really doesn’t like you,” he winced, gloved fingers wiggling through a giant hole in my favorite sweater.

  “I don’t see why, I’m nice to everybody,” I grumbled, piecing together the severed limbs of the stuffed bunny I’d had since I was three. Maybe I could sew it back together?

  “Some people don’t like nice.” Bishop picked up pieces of clothing at random, bringing them to his nose to sniff lightly. It didn’t faze me anymore when he did that, mostly I waited to see if he’d pick something up I’d missed. “I’m gonna take a few things with me, okay?” he shoved a few items into a plastic bag.

  “Knock yourself out, it’s not like they’re doing me any good anymore.” How could I explain to my parents that I needed an entire wardrobe? I already felt guilty for them paying my rent when I’d dropped all my afternoon classes. “My mom’s going to kill me,” I sighed, falling back against the lumpy mattress.

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s your highest priority right now,” Bishop smirked. “I’m more concerned about whoever did this coming back when you’re here.”

  He had a point there, but I’d almost rather have risked it to know who I was up against. “I guess I’ll have to get the window fixed. That’s how Rob thinks they got in.”

  A pucker appeared on his brow as he inspected the window. “Was the window open or closed when you found it?”

  “Closed, why?”

  “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “I don’t think whoever did this came in the window.” Bishop left me sitting in the bedroom to go inspect the front door.

  “Why not?” I chased after him, leaving Mr. Buns aside.

  “They sure didn’t leave that way,” Bishop replied, studying the front lock with interest. “How could they close the window behind them with a three story drop outside? It makes more sense they left out the front door, so why not come in that way to start with?”

  “Because I would have seen them, genius,” Bridget snorted, and Bishop left off messing with the lock to study her with just as much interest.

  “I’m not so sure you didn’t. Your random vandal isn’t going to shimmy up a three story building on the street side on the off chance he might find your bedroom window unlocked, and a vamp can’t enter without an invitation.”

  All of a sudden the clouds parted and I understood the track he was on. “Oh right. Which means…”

  “Which means Bridget had to have invited them in, through the front door.” Bishop crossed his arms in smug satisfaction. Bridget however, wasn’t so convinced.

  “What? No I didn’t, I’m pretty sure that’s something I would remember.”

  “What do you remember about tonight?” I asked, dragging her over to the sofa to sit next to me.

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You were already gone when I woke up, so I made myself a snack and I was flipping through the channels looking for something to watch.”

  “Okay, what did you watch on TV?”

  She struggled to come up with an answer. “Movies? I have no idea.”

  “Movies,” I repeated, chewing on the inside of my lip.

  Bridget wasn’t usually so vague. Usually she had an opinion on everything, from the plot holes and cheesy effects of her favorite type of B movies to the infomercials on at four a.m. for nonstick cookware. “What movies?”

  “Movies,” she replied, her voice lacking its usual inflection. “I watched movies and then went to bed.”

  “But you didn’t go to bed. You were up when I got here.”

  Bridget blinked. “I… must have gotten up. Rob came over, he asked for a cup of coffee…”

  “Yeah, she’s definitely been compelled,” Bishop observed from his vantage point by the door.

  For some reason that really bothered me. Okay, so I know that’s like the pot calling the kettle black since I’d compelled her before, but Bridget was my friend. No one else had the right to mess with her mind and do God knows what other damage to her. “What if they put some other suggestion in there? What if she’s programmed to kill me in my sleep?”

  “Calm down.” Bishop’s hand came up and I recognized he was trying to think. “I’ll just compel her not to hurt you and you’ll be fine.”

  “Would that really work?” I raised a skeptical brow. “Couldn’t whoever it is come back and re-compel her to attack me again?” Was that even a word? It was a scary possibility.

  “That would only happen if they’re older and stronger than I am,” he replied confidently, but I was reminded that there were plenty of vamps out there that fit the bill. What if Kursik’s people weren’t all that happy I’d offed their boss? Was that where it all came from?

  “Then you really think you can fix her?”

  “You make me sound like a puppy,” Bridget muttered. “I’m not sure I like the way this conversation is going down. Don’t I get a say in who gets into my brain?”

  “No,” Bishop hardly spared her a glance. “I can keep her from letting anyone else in, that’s not a problem. Actually, it’s possible I could break the compulsion and we could get her memories back,” he considered aloud.

  “You can do that?” I blinked, impressed.

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Yeah, why not,” Bridget snorted. “If you cause a little brain damage I can always go on disability. It’ll be like a vacation.”

  Despite the nonchalant words, I heard her pulse slam into high gear. “Bridget, he won’t hurt you,” I promised, hoping I wasn’t steering her wrong on that account. I knew human life meant very little to Bishop, but I counted on him not wanting to upset me by causing her any harm.

  “Okay, okay, what do you want me to do?” she looked to us expectantly.

  “Relax, it won’t hurt a bit,” Bishop gave her a reassuring smile, sitting on the other side of her on the couch. Already using a touch of compulsion in his voice, Bridget immediately eased, her pulse falling and breathing becoming slow and steady. “Good girl,” he praised her like a pet.

  “What are you going to do to her to make it work?” I asked, too nervous to sit anymore, I paced behind the couch.

  “I’ll give her a little of my blood and then take some of hers, it should strengthen the connection between us. Then I’ll see if I can walk her back through the night and peel back the layers of compulsion.”

  That sounded simple enough. Only… “Won’t that make her a vampire too? If you exchange blood like that?”

  “No, only if I drain her to the point of near death first.”

  “Oh.” Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better, especially knowing how intimate an exchange like that could be. I sat as far away from them as possible, by the window, unable to look away as Bishop got to work. His fangs descended on command, and he brought them to his wrist. The scent of his powerful blood filled the room, and my own fangs slid out in response as my entire body remembered the taste of him.

  “Drink,” he commanded, bringing his wrist to her lips before the small wounds healed. Like a robot, Bridget’s mouth fastened over his arm, and she swallowed dutifully. Bishop’s eyes closed, and I heard his sharp intake of breath at the pleasure it brought him.

  I couldn’t watch.

  It felt like it went on and on, but not all that much time really passed before I he
ard him say “enough”. I couldn’t help but sneak a look, expecting to find her in his lap, but their positions hadn’t changed. “Relax, this won’t hurt at all.” Instead of going for the jugular, Bishop lifted her wrist to his mouth and drank. The effect was electric on Bridget though, her eyes slid shut, a moan of delight escaping her throat.

  “I can’t watch this.” All of a sudden the last thing I wanted to see was my boyfriend pleasuring my roommate, even for a good cause. Especially since visions of my joining them on the sofa were nearly overwhelming me at the bright coppery scent of her blood. I stood up to leave, but only got as far as my bedroom when I heard Bishop call out to me.

  “Anja, it’s done,” he said in a thick voice, and I waited long seconds for the scent of blood to clear before I returned to the living room. By the time I got there, they were sitting as if nothing had happened, Bridget staring off into space. “Look at me, Bridget,” he began, his voice low and soothing. “I want you to hear only my voice, obey only my voice. Do you understand?”

  “Understand,” Bridget nodded.

  “Take me back to the instant you woke up today, tell me what you remember.”

  Bridget started with a stilted narrative at first, but her memory seemed untampered based on the incredible amount of boring steps she went through. I could see Bishop’s attention starting to wander too, but then she halted, a furrow appearing on her brow.

  “Then I watched movies and went to bed,” she finished woodenly.

  “No, you didn’t. I know you didn’t go to bed, because you don’t sleep nights, do you?”

  “No.”

  “What time do you normally go to sleep?”

  “Four or five a.m. on my nights off.”

  “And this is your night off. Think, Bridget. You were on the couch, you flipped the remote to channel…”

  “Four,” she completed the sentence.

  “What was on the TV?”

  “Laverne and Shirley.”

  “Which episode?”

  “The one where they’re running a diner for the night.”

  “I love that episode!” I smiled, mashing my lips together when Bishop shot me a look. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed back.

  “Tell me about the first commercial break.”

  Bridget walked him through the ads for party lines and miracle cleansers, and then her head turned towards the door.

  “Do you hear something?”

  “Someone’s knocking.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s Rob. I should have brushed my teeth after that pizza. I wonder if I have time to gargle…” she murmured.

  “Focus, Bridget. Who’s on the other side of the door? Is it Rob?”

  Her brow crumpled, pulse quickening. “I don’t know.”

  “Show me, show me who’s at the door.”

  Bridget rose and went to the door obediently, hand hovering over the knob. “I don’t want to,” she whimpered. I’d never heard her make a sound like that before, as far as I knew, she wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “It’s alright. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Whoever it is can’t hurt you. Who’s at the door?” Bishop tried again.

  This time her hand closed over the doorknob, and she pulled the door open slowly. “Who…?” her expression grew blank again, the fear melting away.

  “Who’s at the door, Bridget?” Instead of answering, she just stood there, staring off into nothingness.

  “Bridget, are you alright?” I asked, edging closer. “Bishop, what’s the matter with her?”

  “Who’s at the door?” he ignored me, trying again to get through to her, but she didn’t make a peep. “Damn it, who’s at the door!” he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a rough shake. Bridget’s head wobbled, but she didn’t respond and I inserted myself between them.

  “Hey, you can’t yell it out of her. Can’t you see it’s not working?” I shouldered him out of the way. “Bridget? It’s okay, you don’t have to remember anything. Bridget?” I waved my hand in front of her face and she didn’t so much as blink. “She’s broken. You broke her,” I turned on him angrily.

  “I didn’t break her, she can’t hear you. I told her to hear only my voice, remember?”

  “Well, undo whatever it is you did to her, it didn’t work.”

  “Sure it did.”

  “How do you figure?” My eyes narrowed at him.

  “We know someone definitely came to the front door, and we know she’s been compelled. That’s more than we knew for sure before.” I agreed with that logic, but I didn’t think it was worth the sacrifice to get there. “I don’t understand why I wasn’t able to break through the compulsion,” he shook his head, sinking back down on the sofa.

  Bridget allowed me to guide her out of the doorway, and I shut it firmly, more than a little concerned by her blank look that persisted. “So, what does this mean?”

  “It means… it was either done by a vampire of at least a couple hundred years old, or possibly only that I have no affinity for her,” he gestured to Bridget before pinching the bridge of his nose. “It could be a lot of things,” he sighed, sounding weary.

  I almost hated to ask him, he looked so beat down, but we couldn’t leave Bridget like that. “Can you fix her? You know, bring her back to normal?”

  “What?” he looked up, as if only then realizing he wasn’t done. “Yeah, sure,” he waved her over, and Bridget dutifully sat beside him again. “First things first,” he caught hold of her will again and I could practically feel the power radiating off of him as he focused. “Bridget, I want you to come back to the present. Don’t worry about the earlier events of the night, there is nothing to fear.”

  “Nothing to fear,” she repeated, and I breathed a quick prayer of thanks to see her responsive again.

  “You will not invite anyone else into the house without my or Anja’s permission, no matter what the reason. The plumber, mailman, even people you recognize, no one is to enter this house. If the police come, they will have to return when Anja has given you leave to do so, do you understand?”

  “Understand,” she nodded.

  “That’s kinda limiting, isn’t it?” I frowned.

  “Anja’s life is the most important thing in the world to safeguard. You will do everything in your power to shield her from danger.”

  “Hey!” I protested, but Bishop ignored me.

  “By my blood, no one else may sway you in this. Hear me and remember.”

  “By your blood,” Bridget nodded faintly and he let her go. Without skipping a beat, Bridget yawned. “I’m going to bed, turn on the music if you’re gonna get loud, okay?”

  “Bridget, are you…?”

  “Hey, far be it from me to hate on you just because I’m not getting any.”

  “We’re not…”

  “I saw the way the two of you looked at each other,” she teased, disappearing into her bedroom. I sat there processing, not at all happy with what just happened on many levels. Nevermind the fact that he’d turned Bridget into my very own version of cannon fodder, I couldn’t get the image of the two of them sharing blood out of my mind.

  “Is something wrong?” Bishop asked, and I realized he’d been trying to get my attention, his face etched with concern.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know…” I shook my head, not knowing where to begin.

  “What is it?”

  There were a lot of things I could have said. My sister Hanna could’ve had him wrapped around her little finger begging for forgiveness, but my experience with men was too limited to try and spin it to my advantage. “I didn’t like watching you with her like that,” I answered simply.

  “I had to order her to keep you safe or whoever compelled her could come right back and compel her all over again.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I waved it away. “I’m talking about the feeding.”

  “That wasn’t feeding.”

  “You know what I mean, it was still… intimate.”


  “I didn’t do it for fun.” His hands came up in a supplicating gesture. “I did it to try and break the compulsion.”

  “It didn’t even work,” I pointed out, dipping into the irrational side of the pool as I wondered if he’d only done it to try and get a quick sip.

  “But we wouldn’t know that unless I tried.”

  “Still…” I shook my head.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous exactly, I’m…” The protest died on my lips, he’d caught me dead to rights. “Okay, so I’m really, really jealous.” I fell back against the couch, scowling as he broke into soft laughter. “And now I’m amusing you, even better,” I muttered.

  “It’s been a long time since anyone’s been jealous over me,” Bishop grinned, leaning back, his face close to mine.

  “I want to be the one to make you feel like that.” It was stupid, I know. We hadn’t talked about exclusivity or defining our relationship. Bishop didn’t make any bones about feeding from humans, and I had no idea if he regularly shared his blood with anyone else to chase after that feeling. All I knew was it made me jealous as anything to think about him sharing something like that, even without sex.

  “Anja, you know it’s not the same.”

  “No? How would you feel if I told you I’d fed from Rob?”

  “Have you?” His face darkened instantly and I felt a rush of triumph.

  “See, it’s not so easy when the shoe’s on the other foot is it!”

  “No feeding from Rob,” he scowled, prompting me to raise a single brow.

  “Is that an order?”

  “I mean it, Anja. He’s different, dangerous. I don’t want you getting in over your head.”

  “Relax, I’m not into stealing my bestie’s boyfriend, even if he does smell tasty,” I teased, throwing my hands up when I saw he wasn’t in the mood to be teased about that. “I’m kidding! Besides, you know I only drink bagged blood now anyway. But what about you? I’m not too thrilled about the idea of you letting random women into your bed either.”

  “Who said anything about me letting women into my bed?” His puzzled expression told me he had no idea how I’d segued into that.