They were alone on the desolate stretch of back road, so he just sat there and looked at her. He took in her dress that was now torn at the knee. The pale-blue fabric was dirty and wrinkled. He didn’t dare focus on the blood. Those dark spots, which in the shadows of the car, could’ve been anything. But they weren’t. Instead, he focused on her sweater, which had slipped off one shoulder, leaving it bare and luminescent in the moonlight. He stared at the uncovered skin, unblinking, unable to bring his eyes to her face. The shoulder was perfect and smooth and fragile. Just like she was.
And he’d nearly broken her.
The sound of his phone ringing made him flinch. He turned away and answered it, putting the car in gear and pulling away from the stop sign.
“Everything’s ready,” Felix said without preamble.
“Good. I’m less than two hours out.”
The muffled sound of a car door shutting and an engine starting came through the line. “I take it she’s on board?”
Jesse glanced over at her limp form and then back to the road. “More or less.”
The line was silent a moment. “What did you do, Jess?”
Jesse stared at the road a long time before answering. “I turned off.”
Felix cursed. “Why would you do that? You know how insanely detached that makes us.”
“I don’t know.” He clenched his jaw. “I couldn’t focus.”
His brother sighed. “It’s called having emotions, Jess. You can’t just ignore them anymore. Bad shit happens when you do.”
“Obviously.” He came to another stop sign and turned right onto the highway. There would be more traffic now. He’d have to remain within the legal speed limit. Having a badge shine a spotlight on a bloodied and unconscious girl in his passenger seat was not something he wanted to deal with tonight.
“What will you do?” Felix asked.
He thought about how he would handle her reaction when she finally woke up. She would be in an unfamiliar place, hurt, scared, and defensive. And she would hate him.
“I have no idea.”
“Let me be there when you talk to her,” his brother said. “I’ve had more experience dealing with humans. Females in particular.”
Jesse bit back a growl of frustration. “Fine.”
“I’ll come at dawn.”
He nodded even though Felix couldn’t see him. “I purchased three plane tickets to the Cayman Islands this morning. Patrick will trace them back to us.”
“Good. I’m heading to the mountain now,” Felix said. “I’ll make an appearance. Make like everything’s normal. Buy us some time.”
Regret rose in Jesse. There was nothing his brother loathed more than seeing Patrick. He only went to the mountain when their sire demanded it. And only then because the benefits of obeying far outweighed the risks of not. Patrick was as capricious as a spoiled child. Even if you were his favorite.
Jesse kept his eyes on the road. “He’ll be suspicious of your arrival.”
“I’ll think of something,” he said, unconcerned. “Just get her home.”
With a dull ache in his chest, Jesse hung up and slid the phone back in his pocket. Without looking over at her, he reached for her upturned hand, entwining their fingers. Hers were cold and didn’t grasp. His trembled. Whether from adrenaline, fear, or something else entirely, he didn’t know. He was exhausted and out of his comfort zone. He was in a place he’d never been before, and geography had nothing to do with it. The odds were good that this plan would fail. That he would die. His brother too. And Par. Even if she didn’t, even if she somehow survived, as long as Patrick lived, she would never be free.
***
The distinctive, smoky-salty smell of maple bacon was the first thing I noticed. It was comforting and familiar in a way that only bacon was. My mouth watered. This wasn’t the cheap, bulk bacon the diner served, either. This was quality pork. The real stuff. I frowned, my eyes still closed. My next-door neighbor was lucky to serve her four-year-old twin boys off-brand Cheerios for breakfast. I knew this not because I ever spoke to her, but because the walls of the apartment building were paper-thin. The ventilation was also connected, and pungent odors traveled far and wide. Some were worse than others. And I’d never smelled bacon.
But slowly, as the fog of sleep began to drift away, I realized I didn’t hear the slamming of doors, the whining and wailing, or the cheerful, animated sound of cartoons. I didn’t even hear the muffled beat of heavy metal music that perpetually emanated from the apartment over mine. It was peaceful. Quiet.
Which was, of course, all wrong.
And then I remembered.
The carnival. The kiss. The fight.
Fear pierced my dreamy bubble, but I didn’t open my eyes, and I willed my breathing to remain even. Inside, I was alert to the point of paranoia.
It was like torture.
But if I was being watched, I didn’t want the element of surprise to be lost. It might be the only thing I had, aside from my telekinesis. Which, going by Jesse’s quick recovery last night, may not be worth much. At least, I assumed it had happened last night. I had no way of knowing how long I’d been unconscious. I listened as if my life depended on it.
At first . . . nothing. Then, from another room, came muffled voices. The clatter of dishes. A refrigerator door being opened and then closed. And more immediately, the lazy crackle of a nearby fire. I concentrated on smelling anything besides the frying pork. There was no mildew or staleness. No lingering cigarette smoke. No dank, dripping pipes. It felt small. Warm. Clean. The sensation of being on a couch was undeniable, the leather overstuffed and cool against my cheek. This was a home. But whose? Was it Jesse’s? Or someone else’s? Although the where was probably more important. How far was I from Floyd and my car?
Concentrating as much as my current state of mind would allow, I let my consciousness expand and connect with any others in the nearby vicinity. There were two. Males. And one was Jesse. His subconscious spoke to me like a long lost friend. I tried to listen to their minds directly, but my brain was slow, and a headache throbbed in my temples, so I couldn’t isolate any thoughts. But I did know they were uneasy. They were wary. They were also both exhausted. And that was something I might be able to use to my advantage.
Approaching footsteps.
The desire to move was almost overpowering.
“Give me some of that bacon,” a voice, not Jesse’s, said as they entered the room. “There’s damn near a whole pound on that plate.”
“No,” Jesse said, and I felt the displacement of air as he strode past me.
My throat threatened to close up. His voice was unexpected somehow, even though I’d known it was him in the other room. It sounded the same. It was beautiful and stern, just like I remembered. And I loathed the way that one small sound made me feel.
With an exhale, someone sank heavily into what sounded like a leather chair across from the couch. “Look at the size of her. She can’t eat all that.”
“No,” Jesse said again, and I heard the clink of a plate being set on a table, followed by the smaller sound of what I assumed was a glass. Other scents wafted to my nose then. Vanilla. Citrus. And butter. I prayed my stomach wouldn’t growl.
“Fine.”
There was another groan of leather as Jesse sat with a sigh. His voice sounded hollow, as if he held his face in his hands. “She’ll be awake soon. Her heart rate is faster.”
“I noticed,” the other voice said, and I got the impression he was looking directly at me. “What are you going to say to her?”
The observation caught me off guard, and I barely restrained my gasp. How?
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “She doesn’t trust me. I doubt she’ll hear anything I say.”
I’m listening now, I thought. Why did you do it? Why did you do any of it?
“I’ll talk to her,” the other said.
Who was he?
Jesse remained silent, and for the first time since he’d ente
red the room, I felt his eyes on me. The urge to open my own to meet them was almost unbearable.
“It’s not that bad, you know,” the other said quietly. “She will heal.”
For a moment, panic rose, stiffening my joints. What did that mean? What were they going to do? But then I remembered. My knee. I’d forgotten about it until now. And as if on cue, I realized it was throbbing. I knew if I moved, pain would shoot sharp and straight. The memory of how it had happened, however, is what threatened to bring the sting of tears to my eyes.
“It’s bad enough,” Jesse said.
I didn’t need to hear it to know it was there. Guilt. I sensed it loud and clear through his thoughts. His shame was real, and that was something I refused to think about. I couldn’t bear to think of his remorse.
The other sighed, and it sounded like he leaned forward in his chair.
“You made a mistake, Jess,” he said. “A big fucking mistake. You’ll apologize for it like a man, and she’ll understand.”
Understand? How could I understand what he’d done? The betrayal with Kristen was unfathomable. But the physical abuse was unforgivable. He’d hurt me in the worst possible way. I could never understand that.
“She won’t,” Jesse insisted.
His thoughts told me he believed it. And that was good.
“You’ve been living the life for over three hundred years. Old habits die hard,” the other argued, sighing. I heard a rustling of fabric and then a metallic click, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lighter being lit.
His words didn’t immediately make sense to me and, when they did, I was unable to accept them. Three hundred years?
“No excuse.” Jesse’s voice rose as he stood. I listened carefully to the direction of his footsteps. He moved across the room, and I suspected he stopped by the fireplace. In my mind’s eye, I could see him clearly. His black hair aglow in the flickering light. He would have a deep, unreadable expression on his face. And he would be beautiful.
An aching began then, and I swallowed the sob that rose in my throat. Even in my anger, even in my imagination, he had the power to break my heart. And I realized he’d always had that power. I’d given it to him the moment I’d sat down in that diner booth across from him. The moment I’d started to believe.
I hate you! I wanted to scream it. I wanted to hit him. To hurt him like he’d hurt me. I hate you so much!
And the lie made me hate myself even more.
“No, it isn’t,” the other agreed, talking through what sounded like an exhale of smoke. A moment later, the sweet, spicy scent of a cigar met my nose. “But it’s true just the same. You didn’t want to hurt her. You fell back on a defense mechanism you’ve spent centuries perfecting. I understand why you did it.” He paused, and I heard him inhale. “I think she will too.”
He’d referred to several hundred years so naturally again that my unease grew. He’d meant to say it. And he believed it. I could sense it. I also realized that Jesse hadn’t corrected him.
I focused on the smoking man, even as the throbbing in my temples increased. Fragments of thoughts were all I could discern in my state of agitation. Broken sentences. Meaningless words.
—hope I’m right . . .
If she doesn’t —
I can’t lose him again . . .
—can’t help what he did . . .
It wasn’t his—
—risking everything for her . . .
It was like trying to listen to a station that intermittently came through with snippets of sound. The rest was just white noise.
“You didn’t see the look on her face,” Jesse was saying. “She’ll never forgive me. I don’t blame her.”
“You kissed someone else,” the other said. It was more declaration than question.
I held my breath for the reply, the memory burning brightly in my mind.
Jesse sighed. “Yes.”
“Did it mean anything?”
“Of course not,” Jesse said, and the hair on my arms rose. He’d said it with such conviction that it was hard not to believe him. And somehow that hurt more than if he’d said yes.
The man exhaled. “Then why’d you do it?”
“I don’t know.” A moment later I heard Jesse come away from the fireplace and sink back into his chair. His movements were agitated. “I hadn’t drank in days. I lost control. I tried to push the bitch away.” Leather groaned as he leaned back, and I could picture him running his hand down his face. “I swear I tried.”
The truth of what he said rang in my head like a bell. He wasn’t lying. But it didn’t make sense, and it didn’t take away what he’d done. It didn’t explain the way he’d treated me at my apartment. The memory of his coldness . . . his blank expression chilled me to the bone. He’d been utterly unrecognizable.
A few moments of silence passed as if they were both lost in thought, and then the smoking man asked quietly, “Does she know what you are?”
My heart skipped a beat. What kind of question was that?
“No,” Jesse said.
“So she doesn’t know what he did to you? What he’s still doing to you?”
Who? Who had done something to him? And what had they done? Against my will, something inside me tightened at the thought.
Jesse’s reply was barely audible. “No.”
“Then tell her who you are, Jess,” he said. “She’ll forgive you.”
Abruptly, Jesse stood again, ignoring him. I heard him remove the plate from the table. “This is cold. Watch her.”
And then I was alone with the smoking man. Apart from the sounds of Jesse in the kitchen, which, going by my estimation, was to the left and just down the hall, it was dead silent. My heart began to pound in earnest, and my mind raced. I didn’t know if I should leap up and make a run for it or if I should continue my ruse.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
“You can stop pretending now,” he said quietly. “I know you’re awake.”
I stopped breathing. Any noise from the kitchen abruptly ceased also. Jesse had heard him. I somehow knew it. I expected him to come back, but he didn’t.
The man laughed a little. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid.”
After a moment, I opened my eyes and had to blink to adjust to the light. My gaze sought him and, for a breath, I thought he was Jesse. My heart stuttered as confusion swept over me. But then I realized he looked younger. His hair was shorter. And he dressed differently. But his eyes . . . they were the same. Deep-green and mysterious. This was Jesse’s younger brother Felix. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. I closed my mouth and swallowed, watching him.
“You recognize me,” he said. His smile was so handsome, that under normal circumstances, I would’ve been helpless but to return it.
Not today.
Ignoring him, I glanced to the nearest exit, which was to the right. The heavy steel door looked formidable. And closed. I turned away from it, taking in my surroundings. It was, in fact, a home, and I was in a living room. There were no windows, and I got the distinct impression that it was underground. But it was warm and inviting. Whiskey-colored leather furniture. Rustic wood floors. Cream walls. Gently crackling fireplace. The only other possible way out was the hallway to the left, which presumably led to the kitchen. Where he was. My heart sank. There was nowhere to go.
I looked back to Felix, searching for any sign of aggression. When I found none, I slowly sat up, clutching the soft knitted throw that’d been draped over me. “You knew I was awake.”
He regarded me with amusement. Leaning forward, he removed his cigar from his mouth and balanced his elbows on his knees. “I did. You’re quite the possum player.”
“Why didn’t—” My throat caught on the name. I took a deep breath and tried again. “Why didn’t Jesse know?”
He shrugged, glancing toward the kitchen. “His mind is elsewhere. He’s not focused.”
I eyed the sharply tailored brown-wool vest and crisp white b
utton-down that was rolled up to his elbows, and then met his gaze. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Bringing the cigar up to his lips noncommittally, his eyes held a mischievous sparkle.
We stared at each other a moment. “You wanted me to hear.”
His smile was quick. “Smart girl.”
I thought back to all that’d been said. “Why?”
The cigar bobbed in his mouth. “There are things you need to know before you decide to give up on him.”
I hardened my heart against the immediate swell of sorrow. My jaw clenched, and I looked again toward the door. “I think I know all I need to know.”
He followed my gaze. “It’s open. You can go if you want to.”
I turned back to him. Was it some kind of test?
He laughed, reading my expression. “You can go. But wait until after you hear what we have to say. Please.”
“I don’t want to hear what you have to say.” I glared at him, wondering if he was telling the truth. Was I really free to go?
He implored me with his eyes. “He loves you.”
The air left the room, and I grew lightheaded. A metallic clanging came from the kitchen as if something had been dropped. That was the last thing I’d expected Felix to say.
“No.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear another word. “No, he doesn’t.”
“He does,” he insisted, smoke from his cigar curling from between his lips as he talked. He looked so much like his brother. “Believe me.”
“No.” Still shaking my head, I began trembling. I didn’t believe it. Couldn’t. Nothing made sense. Not last night. Not the past two months. Not now. All I knew was that Jesse had betrayed me. He’d betrayed me in every possible way. I didn’t know him at all. I’d never known him. And I didn’t know his brother. I didn’t need to know the why. Didn’t want to.
It was becoming hard to breathe. With clumsy movements, I untangled myself from the blanket and stood on wobbly legs, eyes darting around like a caged rabbit looking for a hole to disappear into.
That was when I saw him. Standing quietly in the doorway, looking like everything I’d ever hoped and dreamed for and then lost. And he stared back at me as if I was the only thing in the room, jaw rigid. I noticed the plate of food he held, and tears began streaming down my face. I stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the low glass coffee table. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Felix stand with a concerned expression.
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