Creature of Habit (Book 3)

by Lawson, Angel

“Sounds like you need to go on a field trip,” she said, breaking my train of thought.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you not listening to me?”

  I cleared my throat. “Just distracted—for a moment.”

  She pinned me with a look. She knew. She could sense the changes in me now. My wants and desires. You’d think it would have made the tension less—the lack of secrets, but that wasn’t the case. Everything was heightened.

  Everything.

  “I said, I think you should go in the field. With Ryan and see what you can find.”

  I tapped my fingers on the arm of my chair, looking for the right words. “I’m not sure I’m, uh, comfortable leaving right now.”

  “Because I need supervision?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Olivia can come.”

  “Amelia…”

  “And Genevieve. And whoever else you want.” She stretched her bare foot in my direction and I caught it in my hands. “Do this. Stop him. You know Ryan needs your help out there.”

  I tugged on her leg and pulled myself closer, the wheels of the chair gliding over the hardwood floors. Tentatively I placed my hands on her thighs. She took my chin in hers.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, meaning so many things.

  “Go. And give me the time to sort the rest of this out.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against my forehead, my cheeks. Against my mouth she said, “I’m close.”

  I nodded—as though I’d ever deny her anything. She rewarded my patience and obedience with a kiss on the mouth, her tongue touching mine.

  “I love you,” I told her, reaching for the spot on her wrist.

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 21

  January 4

  Diary,

  I miss having sex.

  I'd thought, being a vampire, the sex part would come easily. The two of us, strong and passionate. No longer worried about venom or injury. Not to mention my boyfriend is pretty much the hottest vampire lover a girl vampire could get. You would think it would all just be a piece of cake.

  This is not the case.

  It's my fault really. Grant definitely wants to have sex with me, too. I can see it in his eyes. Smell it on his skin. I think he spends half his day stifling his perpetual hard-on from me. Trust me, there is no hiding that thing when it's in a state of excitement.

  The problem is that I can't focus on anything for more than about three seconds at once. For example, the other day Grant took a shower after hunting. The bear he had been tracking tossed him into the stream, soaking him to the bone. I sat on the bed and when he emerged from the bathroom, hair wild from being rubbed with a towel, clear droplets of water eased down his back.

  I noted for the millionth time that Grant had the perfect back. It was smooth and broad. His shoulders perfectly proportional to his waist. There were dips and valleys that outlined the muscles, and for the first time recently, I was struck by the desire to run my hands over the curves and let them wander aimlessly over his body.

  This was my plan, or where my mind was at least, when I became distracted by an intense buzzing sound in the room. I tried to push it away and focus on how the angled definition of Grant's hips were like an arrow pointing me toward his… but then that irritating sound came back, echoing through my ears, making it impossible to think.

  I looked around the room and spotted it. It was fly trapped in the room. I was consumed with tracking and catching it. I forgot Grant. I forgot his hair and his back and the V that led from his hips. I forgot everything but the blasted insect that taunted me, screaming at me from across the room.

  Long story short; I caught the fly in my bare hands and gleefully ran to show it to Grant, planning on shoving it in his face like an excited two year-old. I looked around the room and realized Grant was long gone. He was now dressed and sitting at his desk in the other room, focused on finding Sebastian. Sadly, he was no longer half naked or wet.

  I opened the door and let the insect go, realizing I had a serious problem.

  I want it noted for the record that, even though I am currently incapable of focusing longer than an excited puppy, I really do want to have sex with my boyfriend.

  Chapter 22

  Grant

  “Call me if something happens.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  I frown. “I don’t know. Anything—just call. I’ll come right back.”

  “We’ll be fine, Grant.”

  “It’s just that things are a little weird right now. Good-weird. Like, better, but I don’t want to backslide. Or for something to happen with the—her—heartbeat. She’s not like us, not exactly. She feels things differently.” I stood on the porch trying to convey to Olivia the seriousness of everything with Amelia. Per usual, she wasn’t buying into my view. “Olivia…”

  “Grant, she’s fine. We’re fine. You’re no more than a day away. Genevieve can be here in hours. Stop being ridiculous.”

  “I’m not being ridiculous,” I said.

  “Totally ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous!” Amelia shouted from the other room. I’d already given her my goodbye. Olivia and I were supposed to be having a private conversation.

  “Shit.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I keep forgetting she can hear now.”

  “I heard that too!” she yelled.

  “Go,” Olivia said, with an exaggerated eye roll.

  “Tell me what you saw one more time.”

  “Head north, Maryland? Virginia? He’s moving so fast I can’t get a good feel from one place to the next. I think you’ll find him—or a sign of him near the water.”

  “That’s a little vague.”

  “You get what you get.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” I agreed.

  She gave me one last hug and said, “Come back with good news.”

  I left her on the porch, responsible for the most valuable thing I’ve possessed in multiple lifetimes. Caleb had traumatized me. Left me shaken and vulnerable. I needed to clear my head and get back on track. Maybe finding Sebastian would help.

  “Ready?” Ryan asked. He and Elijah waited by the main road, standing by the red truck.

  “Yeah.” I looked at Elijah and asked. “Does it ever get easier? Leaving her?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Not at all.”

  “Even now?” I asked. We haven’t spoken much post Caleb, but I had my suspicions.

  “It’s worse now,” he admitted. “But she insisted. And rationally I know it will be okay. Caleb’s dead. He was an anomaly—vampires killing other vampires.”

  “Except for Sebastian,” Ryan added. “Do you think he’s copying Caleb?”

  “No,” I said. “There’s a pattern. I can feel it, but it’s not something we can glean from the internet. It’s not like vampires leave a big digital footprint.”

  I toss my backpack in the truck before climbing in behind the wheel. Two days. That was how long I’d told them I would leave her. We needed to find Sebastian and find him fast, because if we couldn’t, I had little doubt The Council would.

  Chapter 23

  January 8

  Dear Diary,

  Olivia has come to act as my babysitter. Mostly we’ve watched documentaries and hunted. I like being with her—it’s different. Less pressure or something. Not that Grant pressures me. If anything the demands I feel come from myself and everything gets caught up in my head. The expectations. The want.

  The hunger.

  “Olivia,” I asked, closing my journal. “Do you think I’m self-sabotaging?”

  She glanced over the top of the book she held in her hands. “What are you talking about?”

  I sighed. “I’m a terrible vampire.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s Grant’s job.”

  I laughed. “He is pretty ridiculous, right?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I’ve mastered most things now. I can hold a pencil.” I clasp it between t
wo fingers as evidence. “Use the appliances without breaking them. I can even carry on a conversation while being aware of the sound of the snow plow on the highway but not obsessed with it.”

  Olivia smiled. “You’ve made progress.”

  “I have,” I agreed. “But not with everything.”

  She put down her book. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “What then?”

  “Uh, well, I thought maybe you could help me with something.”

  “Of course. I’m happy to help you however you need. Transitioning is hard.” Olivia waited for me to reply and when I didn’t she tilted her head in question. “Amelia, what is it?”

  I took a deep breath, one to settle my nerves and walked over to her. I had to do it. I had to see if I could—to make sure that my skin didn’t shatter. That my heart wouldn’t burst. I sat next to her and said, “Can I? Kiss you?”

  “Kiss me?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Well.” She looked over her shoulder, as if someone may be watching, but simply shrugged. “Okay.”

  I scooted closer and said in a rush, “This isn’t about you—it’s about me and all the feelings and the way everything feels too close. Grant—God, I want him, so much it’s almost oppressive. I’ve tried little things, kisses and touches, but it’s overwhelming.” I shook my head. “That sounds crazy. I feel crazy. This is probably a terrible idea—“

  Olivia gently brushed my hair over my shoulder, allowing her fingers to graze my shoulder blade. Her touch was calming, and I relaxed for the first time in days. “Everything is heightened once you turn. Not that I remember, but I’ve read enough romance novels to get an idea of what a human feels like. What we feel—it’s so much more. Every inch of our skin, every nerve. Complete exposure, total desire. Grant will be a magnificent lover for you, Amelia. Mating makes it that much more delicious.” She hovered her mouth close to mine and I unconsciously licked my lips. My eyelids fluttered shut at the smooth sound of her voice and I gasped in surprise when her mouth pressed against mine. My skin tingled, in a purely vampiric way. The boiling want that I had for Grant was reserved for him, but that allowed me to kiss back harder, testing my own limits.

  I kissed Olivia, and she met my movements, allowing me to experiment. I ran a hand down her long, slim arm and drew back. “I feel high.”

  She laughed. “That’s a good explanation.”

  “How do you keep from losing yourself in Elijah?” I asked, cupping her face.

  “I don’t resist it. I welcome it. Giving myself to him is the best thing in the world.”

  Her words unlocked something in me—a truth I’d struggled with for weeks. I was so afraid of going all in with Grant that I’d been holding back. I was afraid. One look at Olivia told me she understood my feelings. She picked the amulet off my neck and said, “This heartbeat, it does things to you. Confuses you?”

  “I think so. It’s like a tie binding me in humanity.”

  She tilted her head in thought. “Don’t fight it—either way. Go with your feelings, the hard ones and the good ones. Allow the pleasure to feel as good as the pain. You’ll need both to measure one another out.” She leaned back against the sofa. “When I first awoke and had these visions—I was freaked out. I had no idea what to do about it. I just wanted them to stop.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Grant helped. A lot. He just let me talk about it. Believe it or not he’s a good listener. I mean, he’s good at everything, right?” She rolled her eyes. “But just accepting the premonitions was the biggest part. They weren’t going away. I had to learn to live with them. You’re going to have to learn to live with your own gift.”

  “You think it’s a gift?” I felt for the amulet, warm between my fingers. “Seems more like a curse to me.”

  “Challenging, maybe, but if anything it probably confirms the fact you’re supposed to be a Palmer. Helping people is what we do best and you picked the perfect mate to live with.”

  I nodded, twisting the stone. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She stood and grabbed her book. “Do me a favor, don’t tell the boys about that kiss.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Do you think they’ll be mad?”

  She laughed, loud and long. “Uh, no. Well, mad that they didn’t see it.”

  Oh. The thought of Ryan alone made me laugh as well. “Gotcha.”

  “Come on. I have some ideas on how to maybe help you and Grant get things rolling for when he comes back.”

  My cheeks no longer reddened when I was embarrassed but, after our talk, I wasn’t sure Olivia and I should experiment anymore. “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

  She made a face. “A room makeover, duh. Miles has totally neglected this place. Plus I saw what you did to that bed.”

  Right. The bed I smashed to pieces. I stood. “Good idea. Fresh start.”

  I just hoped Grant would be ready, too.

  Chapter 24

  Grant

  Baltimore had never been my favorite city. In my lifetime I’ve managed to avoid it easily. Too busy. Dirty. No real artist community. Ironically, that was where we found our biggest clue, near the American Visionary Art Museum. The outside was garish—a mosaic of mirrors blinked in the night. Appalachia and Asheville had a strong sense of ‘outsider art’, and the building seemed to be a Mecca for collectors.

  “Do you smell that?” Ryan said, inhaling.

  Elijah nodded. Of course he did, with his enhanced senses, and had already started crossing the busy street toward the rank odor.

  “Olivia said near the water,” Elijah commented. The museum was in spitting distance of the Patapsco River.

  Close to the water, we found the head first, trapped by debris in a storm drain. A swath of bright red hair stood out from the trash. Male. Unidentified age. Sebastian had clearly thought it would wash away in the river. “The area must have been too populated for burning,” Elijah noted.

  “Recognize him?” I asked Ryan.

  He turned the head with the tip of his shoe. He studied the man’s bloated face for a long moment and said, “No.”

  I heard a scrape behind us. A tiny movement, and I paused, holding my hand out for the others to wait.

  Quietly, I eased my way down the slanted, cement bank and searched the area. I heard the scurry of feet and spotted a shadow. Moving faster, I raced toward a dock that spanned the bank. Large boats lined the slips. Once I reached the dock I slowed and closed my eyes, listening closely.

  The other person was a vampire. Quick on his feet. No heartbeat. I caught a scent, oil and acetone. Vaguely familiar. Ryan and Elijah caught up, and I directed them to flank the sides of a large yacht. As the other two disappeared into the shadows, I jumped up and caught myself on the railing around the deck. From above I cut across the middle of the boat. At the back I heard the snap and closure of a latch.

  Near the back railing I spotted a wide storage chest built into the floor. I slipped the blade I carried out of my boot and stood before the container. With a hard kick, I smashed my foot into the latch, splintering it open.

  Inside, a man with dark brown skin lay coiled on his side.

  “Gabriel?” I asked, convinced I was seeing things.

  One eye popped open, and recognition flickered in his dark eyes. “Grant?”

  I sighed and called the others up to the deck. Gabriel moved to a sitting position and I offered him a hand.

  Ryan and Elijah appeared within seconds, both carrying an aggressive stance. “It’s okay,” I told them. “This is Gabriel. He and I knew one another in the art scene decades ago.”

  Gabriel stood before us in sleek hipster clothing. Immaculate from head to toe other than the streaks of paint on his hands.

  He smiled broadly and said, “It’s been a long time, friend.”

  “Why did you run from us?” Elijah asked, eyes wary
.

  “I saw you looking at that head near the river, and I got a look at this guy”—he jabbed his thumb at Ryan—“and I thought he was coming back for another kill—with friends this time. I decided to split. Although now that I see you up close you don’t have that scar on your face.”

  Ryan’s jaw tightened and he asked, “You saw him kill that vampire?”

  “Yep. Last night. We’d just closed down the museum for the night and I heard the scuffle. By the time I got down there the guy—the one that looks like you—had Raymond in a death grip.”

  “Raymond?” I asked.

  “He worked with me at the museum. You know how it is, Grant. The world is always looking for another up and coming artist. I’m happy to keep them happy.” He laughed.

  “You own the museum?” I looked over at the shiny building.

  “Yep. For now anyway. It’s a good place to hide, make some friends, a little money.”

  “Did the killer say or do anything else that you saw?” Elijah asked, getting us back on track.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it and I’ve been around for a while. Vamp on Vamp fights aren’t common, not in a situation like this. Gangs occasionally. That serial killer you handled last year was weird enough. But this was a cold-blooded murder. Guy’s gone off in the head if you ask me.”

  The accusation didn’t sit well with me or anyone else, but I squelched the desire to defend Sebastian. Instead I said, “Tell me about Raymond.”

  “Eh, dude was okay. I picked him up about twenty years ago out in LA. He’s got an artistic flair—good with a spray paint can—good looking, brings in the ladies who love an artist. He had no self-regulation, though. That’s my only issue with him. Caught him more than once coming home from a bender. That’s a situation I don’t like to fix, if you know what I mean.”

  None of us replied so he continued, “In the last year though, he got a little weird. We scored big on some street art—you know, Banksy style. It’s all the rage. Ray got a bit of a following, and it went to his head. Started wanting a groupie situation. Humans were out of the question past a certain extent so he’d pluck one or two of his favorites and keep them around—for good.”