Creature of Habit (Book 3)

by Lawson, Angel

  “What was it?” I asked, having the horrible feeling I already knew.

  “At the time I didn’t know, but Sebastian and I had no choice, we had to check on our mother. We found her inside, tied to the bed, stripped naked, with bloody marks all over her body. She wasn’t dead.”

  “Oh God.”

  “She clung to life by a thread. The guy? He was there too, and even at eighteen I knew he wasn’t human. I didn’t know what he was, but there wasn’t an ounce of a soul in him.”

  “He was a vampire?”

  “Yes. I went after him and Sebastian tried to release my mother. The Vamp, he turned it on. In the carney world I had seen so many things. Weird things. I thought nothing could surprise me, but this guy… this demon. He was like nothing I’d ever seen. Speed, power, and agility. He had it all. Within seconds he had me pinned to the wall, he whispered something and I froze. Now I understand it was compulsion. He told me to stay and to watch. I had no choice.”

  “Oh Sebastian, I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “He spent the rest of the night raping my mother while he mutilated and fed on Sebastian.”

  My hand moved to my mouth and I blinked back tears. Even after all the damage and horror Caleb had inflicted—the terrible things Sasha and Joe attempted to do to me, the harsh reality of Ryan’s transformation made me sick.

  “By dawn he’d decapitated my mother and left both Sebastian and I drained but with enough venom to transform. Just as in our original birth, we were once again reborn twins.”

  He tightened the caps on the containers and secured them in plastic. “I don’t know what to say,” I told him, feeling utterly useless.

  “There’s nothing to say, Amelia. We were all human at one point. None of us had a choice in our fate. The fact you’re willingly entering this world with Grant doesn’t sit well with my brother. He doesn’t want you to have a romanticized notion of who we are and what we come from. Each of our lives were born from violence. Some more horrific than the rest. In the end, we had something taken away from us—something we will never regain. Miles has given us a chance to attempt to heal these wounds and it helps, but it’s still incredibly difficult. Never underestimate that. Not with Grant or any of us.”

  I swallow and nod. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  “Anytime.”

  He moved to stand and I blurted out, “Do you feel the same way? About me and Grant?”

  He shook his head. “No. I hate that you being here has caused Sebastian enough pain that he felt like he needed to leave, but I understand that his wounds are deeper than your presence. You may just be the catalyst he needs to work through some of this.”

  “I’m sorry he left. Last night I got to know him a little better. I liked him.”

  Ryan smiled. “He’s a cool dude. A little stunted and moody, but that’s pretty typical around here.”

  “Again, thank you for your honesty. I’m sure telling that story was hard.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, with the first smile I had seen from him. “Welcome to the family.”

  ~*~

  Ryan and I climbed the back stairs and found Grant and Genevieve at the computer. Grant gave me a tense grin as we entered and hopped up to greet me with a kiss at the door. "I missed you," he whispered. It was gruff and I could feel overwhelming distress gripping his body. His hair was matted from constantly touching it and he had black newsprint ink smeared across his jaw. The situation had taken its toll. I wanted to press a smile on his lips and bury myself in him to take away our mutual pain, but hiding wouldn’t fix this. Instead, he hugged me a little longer and I felt his hand slip down the edge of my pants, brushing his cool fingers against my warm side.

  I asked, "Any progress?" loud enough to include the others in the conversation.

  Ryan moved to the seat behind the desk, while Genevieve had positioned herself in one of the leather chairs across from him. He looked even more exhausted after our talk. His normal, bigger than life persona, had vanished. Dredging up the past probably wasn’t the best idea for anyone right now.

  "We’re just waiting for the blasted sun to go down and looking for a direction to go on. We have nothing more than we had yesterday," Grant declared with darkened eyes.

  "We need a set of fresh eyes; Amelia, can you look at this?” Genevieve asked.

  “You want my pathetic human eyes to look for something you missed?”

  That brought a small smile to Ryan’s face. “Can’t hurt. We’re coming up empty.”

  “Sure, I guess I can give it a shot.”

  “We're just going over what happened over the last couple of months with Caleb. Trying to figure out what we missed."

  "What's that?" I asked, and leaned over the desk, pointing to a plastic bag with several pieces of jewelry in it.

  I felt Grant's body press against mine from behind, his hands reaching around me for the bag. "Caleb left these on your door a while back. Olivia and I got to it before you did,” he said. He pulled out a long chain with a dangling cross. "This belonged to Jenna. She was wearing it in the missing posters."

  I reached out and he pooled the chain in my palm. A shiver ran down my back at the memory of the girl and how my life changed the night she was destroyed. I tapped my finger to the other piece of jewelry in the bag. "Who does that belong to?"

  Grant cocked his head questioningly and glanced at Ryan across the desk. "Amelia," Ryan said softly, "we assumed it belonged to you. It has an 'A' inscribed on it."

  I frowned, taking the brooch out of Grant's still hand. "No. It isn't mine. It's beautiful though."

  "It isn't yours? Are you sure? I didn't want to concern you and had planned on putting it back in your room before you noticed. It slipped my mind with everything going on," Grant confessed.

  Across the room, Genevieve sighed. "Of course she's sure. The question is; if it isn't Amelia’s then who does it belong to?"

  Grant walked around the desk and leaned over the keyboard. He entered in a series of keys, eyes flashing across the screen. He trailed his finger down the monitor, and Ryan's eyes rapidly followed his movements. "No one reported a piece of missing jewelry like this to the police. It's so unusual I'm sure someone would have noticed it missing."

  I turned the piece over in my hand, looking at the intricate craftsmanship. "Look here, under the pin, there's a mark." The mark had dulled with age and the pin was heavily tarnished. I handed it over to Grant, hoping he could see it better with his enhanced eyesight.

  "It looks like an H, etched into the silver." He tossed the brooch to Ryan, who flipped it over to look at the back.

  "It's a needle in a haystack but,"—he paused, running his thumbnail over the marking—"at least we have a needle. It's better than nothing."

  We all agreed and discussed how to best find the jeweler who created the brooch. “Can’t be that hard,” Genevieve said. "Grant, let me take the brooch downstairs to Amelia's desk. I may be able to find something." She snatched the pin out of his hand and disappeared.

  "I’ll help," Ryan said, hopping up and following her.

  He was barely out of the room when Grant moved quickly around the desk and plucked me from my spot. A second later I found myself nestled close to him on the couch. My head spun from the speed. I pushed my back against the side of the seat and spread my legs, inviting Grant to rest his head on my stomach. He settled in easily, reaching back for my hand, which I gave to him, while burying the other in his messy hair.

  "Are you worried?" I asked him, trying to pull him away from his brooding. Although his hands had been connected to me every time we were near one another, his eyes had been distant and brooding. Focused on Olivia and Caleb.

  He sighed and closed his eyes, as though he was afraid to admit it. I continued to stroke his hair, and eventually he confessed, "Less worried, more terrified."

  My heart broke a little for this strong, powerful, incredible man lying across my body. He loved Olivia so much. I felt his thu
mb move slowly across my wrist as he took another deep breath. "I know you don’t feel it’s your place to share the others pasts, but this one time make an exception. Tell me about Olivia, something I don't know."

  "Hmmm…" he murmured, "She's smart. And caring. More human than the rest of us put together."

  I tugged his hair. "Something I don't know."

  He looked up at me and said, "There’s nothing much to go on.”

  “She told me you found her in a barn?”

  “Yes, and took her back to the rest of the coven.”

  “Weird,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Everyone else has this traumatic story. You were attacked at the work camp. Ryan and Sebastian…” I shuddered.

  “Ryan told you?”

  “Yes.” I waited for him to comment on that, but he said nothing. “But Olivia told me she has no recollection before coming to in that swamp and that your face was the first vision she had. How is that even possible?”

  “Miles thinks she may have been disoriented from the visions.” He closed his eyes and nuzzled against my chest. “Add that in with whatever trauma she experienced when she died. Her mind may have just blocked it out in a desperate need for self-preservation.”

  We sat quietly for a while. I was consumed by Olivia, her history, or lack thereof, and her current whereabouts. Grant was trying to distract himself with me because there was little he could do at the moment. He stroked my skin, in a comfortable, non-sexual way. The way two people act once they surpassed a level of intimacy.

  I absently pulled and twisted Grant's thick hair in my fingers. I looked across his room, still fascinated by his history, the objects he chose to carry with him towards the future. I wondered what I would choose to remember my past life. Diplomas? DVD of my swim-meets? I had journals and files full of pictures, everything electronic. Nothing seemed important enough, but at the same time everything held meaning. I had no idea how I would choose. I scanned the room, and my eyes landed on his shelves. I lingered over the baseball we'd discussed and then I saw the photo of Grant and his father. His hair was similar, thick and a little unruly but not as long. Otherwise he looked exactly the same.

  "Why is your hair so long?" I asked him, breaking the quiet.

  "What?" he asked, cracking his right eye, the other still firmly placed on my chest.

  I sighed and pointed across the room. "In that picture with your father, your hair is shorter. Why is it so much longer now? I thought hair didn't continue to grow once you transformed."

  He rolled over, his back to my stomach. “Our features freeze the way they are when we’re transformed. Sometimes it clears up imperfections—other time it accentuates them. I can't get it to do anything else." He explained, swiping a hand through it, anxiously, trying to make it conform.

  “Can you not cut it?”

  “Of course I can, but it won’t grow back. I’ve just learned to live with it this way, even though there are times it drives me batshit crazy.”

  I considered this for a moment, my eyes shifting from the photograph to the man in front of me. “What attributes did the others have that stayed the same as before?”

  “Hmm, well, Miles has several missing teeth. Elijah spent years scrapping around with gangs. He has several scars from bullet wounds. Ryan had his appendix out—performed by a shoddy, back alley doctor.” He shook his head at that. “You’ve seen Sebastian’s disfigurement. The way that vampire attacked him, cutting him over and over before he changed him. It was intentional to keep his face like that forever.”

  I untangled his hand from his hair and rubbed it with my own to make it wild. "I like it this way. It suits you."

  Growling, he flipped us so I was straddling his hips. I raised an eyebrow and smiled, proud I'd managed to distract him for a minute. He pulled my face to his and softly licked my lips. “Only you would love the thing about me that drives me batty.”

  “Isn’t that what love is all about? Cherishing what the other thinks is a flaw? I’m quite sure there are some things about me you think are adorable that I can’t stand.”

  “You have no flaws,” he whispered before kissing me hard. “Everything about you is a gift.”

  I pressed into him, feeling the hard bulge in his pants. Taking his hands, I moved them to my shirt, encouraging him to remove it. His fingers worked quickly, and my mind shifted from the here and now to a place where my body took over. I had a fleeting thought, wondering again if he was sure about the compulsion thing. Was I really immune? Because his words made me want to rip off every stitch of clothing and let him have his way with me. Any way he wanted.

  In a flash he positioned me so my butt hit the edge of the sofa. Seconds later I’d lost my pants. He buried his face between my legs and inhaled before kissing the sensitive skin closest to my panties. My hands moved to his hair and I slid forward, lost in the moment.

  “Grant,” I said, hooking my thumbs on my panties. I wanted them off. I wanted him closer. “Are you planning on teasing me all day?”

  He stilled my hands and took control, removing the fabric for me. With both hands he pushed my thighs apart. “The longer you wait, the more aroused you get. The better you smell and”—he licked his lips—“the more delicious you taste.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Positively,” he replied. “For you, a pheromone is something imperceptible. For me? It’s a whole other level.”

  “Oh,” I replied, before he apparently decided it was time to stop messing around. It was then that I realized what having a vampire lover could be all about. What it meant. What his precise touch, and for Grant in particular, with his extreme willpower and unparalleled control, meant for me.

  I settled back against the couch, wove my fingers in his hair and succumbed to the moment.

  ~*~

  "Why are you talking about hair and scars?" he asked curiously, brushing several stray pieces of my own behind my ear. We’d cleaned up and redressed. Was this our life now? Taking sex breaks and then just jumping back into the prior topic? I had no complaints.

  I thought of Olivia and the two thick scars I saw on the insides of both arms and wondered aloud about them. “What were those from?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Grant tensed, almost imperceptibly, but I felt it with his body so close to mine.

  “Maybe that’s another clue,” I said, hopefully. “Maybe something else in her past can lead us to this—those scars on her arms were really unusual.”

  He shrugged and stood, leaving me to go back to his newspapers and start his systematic process of research again. I followed him, walking over the papers and stopping before him.

  “Amelia,” he said, frustration flaring on his face. “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing? I just gave you an idea—a lead. What you’ve been searching for and you just dismiss me.”

  “I’m not dismissing you. I just don’t think it will lead anywhere.”

  “Maybe we should ask Genevieve and Ryan what they think.”

  “They’re busy.”

  “I’m not busy,” Ryan said from the doorway, eyebrows furrowed. “Miles called and Genevieve took off, but I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion and uh, other stuff.” He held his hands up. My face caught fire. “You left the door open, not me.”

  “Ryan,” Grant warned.

  “I grew up in a carnival. Sex sounds are pretty much like background noise to me,” he said, not making it any better at all. “I think Amelia may be onto something. I never did hear what those scars were from either. But she showed up at the house with them when Grant found her, and they had to come from somewhere pre-change.”

  “Right?” I said, excited to have a little support.

  “Let me start looking,” Ryan said, moving to the computer.

  Grant stepped in front of him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

  “Dude, you’re being weird. What’s going on?” Ryan asked, shaking free from his grip.
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  Grant glanced in my direction. The emotion in his eyes was one of deep concern. I stepped closer and took his hand. “I know you don’t like to tell other people’s stories. I respect that—I think we both do. But this is important. We need every piece of information we can get to find Olivia. Whatever it is, just tell us what’s going on so we can help.”

  He tightened his jaw, working the muscle in the back. His eyes darted between us and he finally said, “You don’t need to search for the answer. I have it. I know how Olivia got those scars.”

  Ryan frowned. “How?”

  Grant’s fingers clenched tight around mine. “Because I was there. I know the truth about Olivia and her past. I’m the one that stole her memories.”

  Chapter 3

  Amelia

  The room was so quiet the only sound was my small gasp at Grant’s revelation. Ryan stood frozen, either stunned into silence or about to launch an attack. Grant simply looked dejected. A low growl came from Ryan, and I did the only thing I knew how. I jumped between them praying no one would hurt the human.

  “Get out the way, Amelia,” Ryan said.

  “Amelia.” I felt Grant’s hands on my waist. He would move me himself.

  “No! Beating Grant to a pulp is not going to find Olivia.” I pressed my hands against each of their hard chests. God, they could snap me in half if they wanted. “He has information. If he doesn’t give it freely, then you can beat the crap out of him, okay?”

  Ryan conceded by giving me a sharp nod. I encouraged them to sit on opposite sides of the desk. I stood at the end of it where I could see everyone. “Grant, what do you know?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never told anyone this story. It was something I promised myself I never would. It just didn’t feel right.”

  “Well, I don’t think we ever expected to be in this situation either. Desperate times, man,” Ryan said.

  Grant nodded. “It was the mid 40’s. The boys had just come to live with us, and Miles was committed to training them. It was one of those times I took off. I never did well when Miles took in new people. It messed with my routines. It was best for me go off on my own for a while.”