Evelyn had to get her weapon back.
“He spoiled you.” The blade became a ruby beacon of light inside the void. “He never spoiled my mother.”
The light distracted her. Then it paralyzed her. His damn magic overrode her logic when she screamed for her body to move.
Her blade sailed through the darkness. Evelyn twisted her body, but she didn’t avoid his attack fast enough.
Her sword sank into her chest.
She wrapped her hands around her precious blade. Of course, her body obeyed her commands after he attacked her.
Blood dribbled from her lips.
Fuck. This wasn’t how she anticipated her final meeting with God.
Someone—Louis or Hector—called her name, but their words became muffled. Someone’s hands jostled her shocked body.
She spit out blood. Anger filled her.
She wouldn’t leave this fight unfinished.
“Poor Evelyn.” Simon pulled the blade from her chest, grabbed her chin, and dropped her weapon beside her. “It didn’t have to end like this. I don’t like wasting such divine blood. A virgin’s blood is rare, you know.”
She stumbled, then fell to her knees.
He caught her in his icy arms.
“I can save you.” He trailed a fingernail down her bloody jawline. “Just accept me. Love me. Embrace your inner darkness, dear.”
Right. Because this was how real men showed their love.
Simon could go fuck himself.
Her hand slid against metal and she gripped it. The delusional bastard forgot about her discarded tanto while he raved like a lunatic. If she died tonight, then she’d drag him to Hell with her.
Evelyn stabbed him through the heart.
Simon became vampiric dust.
While his spell remained—somehow—her world became trippier. Her body floated of its own accord. Shadows moved around her in slow motion. Nothing existed outside of her blurry voidsent world. Not even herself.
Once she left here, she would die.
Another light shone through the darkness. First, it was scarlet. Then, it transformed into a hazy blue light. The sky-blue light covered her body. The scarlet one morphed into an older person.
Black hair. Glowing eyes. A red and black billionaire outfit. A sword rested on his right hip while a gun adorned his left hip.
She’d seen this person before, but the name eluded her. Whoever he was, he worked for Satan.
Yes. Satan’s Gatekeeper.
God abandoned her, after all.
“Not exactly.” The man brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’ve lost too much blood, so you’re delirious. Thank goodness he didn’t bite you, though. This makes my job easier.”
Her lips moved, but her words stayed trapped in her throat.
Warm copper filled her mouth.
“That bastard trapped you inside a necromancer’s spell before you stabbed him.” His words barely reached her now. “He pierced your artery, too.”
Fantastic. God punished her for her sins and Satan—no, Darius? —came to collect her.
Perhaps she’d become his champion in the afterlife.
“Nah.” Darius’s hot breath lingered near her neck. “I gave Satan a run for his money. He banished me from Hell centuries ago. Still, there’s one way to save you. Remember what I said about finishing you off earlier?”
Tears leaked down Evelyn’s cheek. “N… no. Wai…t.”
“Look, relax.” He stroked her hair. “Louie won’t let you die, darlin’. Now, hold still. This will hurt a little.”
His fangs pierced her neck.
The sky-blue light covering her body burned brighter, illuminating inside the pitch black void. It warmed her. Relaxed her. A pleasant lethargy seeped into her body.
For a moment, she heard Louis’s warm voice whispering in her ear.
Seconds later, she could breathe again.
Drowsiness became replaced with a period of lightheadedness. Fear turned into eerie calm. Then tranquility. Hope. Peace.
Jemina’s shrieking voice shattered her trancelike state.
She slammed back into reality.
“Don’t move.” Louis rubbed her cheek, then propped her up. “I think we’ve stopped the bleeding. Hector, carry her to the Camaro.”
Her head spun.
Wait a minute. They couldn’t move her.
She just died.
A sword went through her fucking chest. She met Satan’s Gatekeeper. Then she talked to Darius. What happened with that weird light he summoned? And how did he heal her, anyway?
Vampires—real vampires—never had heal spells.
Something didn’t add up here.
“Evelyn, please.” Louis kissed her forehead. “Take it easy. You’ve lost too much blood.”
“I died.” Her hand rubbed her chest—her injured but dry chest. “What the hell happened to me?”
“I—no, we—stopped the bleeding.”
She glared daggers at him. “I died.”
“No.” Louis’s voice lowered with each word. “You had an out-of-body experience because Simon yanked your soul from your body. I drank enough blood for you to breathe again, but it’s a temporary fix.”
Her heart sank. He promised he wouldn’t bite her.
Now, he broke his promise to save her life.
“I saved you because I love you.” A bloody tear ran down his cheek as he rolled up his sleeve. “But I can’t stop you from bleeding to death as a human. Not unless I drink your blood.”
He bit into his wrist until blood poured from the wound. Then he offered it to her.
“Drink, Evie. Or else you’ll choke to death.”
She released a strangled cry.
Either way, she’d lose her humanity.
Evelyn took a tentative lick and grimaced. His blood reminded her of bitter dark chocolate. How could blood taste like baker’s chocolate? Or anything candy related?
“Hurry.” Louis pressed his wrist against her lips. “Come on, Evelyn.”
Fine. If it would shut him up, she’d do it.
She wrapped her lips around the wound.
Every emotion imaginable assaulted her. Anger, fear, bliss—all the sensations became ten times more powerful. They converged on her and smothered her.
For once, she preferred hypnosis.
At least she stayed in dreamy bliss under his eyes.
However, these weren’t her emotions. They couldn’t be. The only thing she felt was anger and fear. The heartache—the helplessness and desperation—those weren’t her emotions.
They were his.
He never wanted to break his promise.
With renewed strength, she suckled again. Two emotions embraced her and changed the taste of his blood. Heartbreak changed it to a straight shot of whiskey. Love turned it sweet.
She ate her favorite Caramello bar.
God, he loved her. To a vampire, this had to be romantic. But how could blood taste like different emotions? Like whiskey and her favorite candy?
Jesus, she was so thirsty.
She sunk her teeth into his wrist.
Time stood still as she sated her thirst, cursing herself for the nightmarish creature she’d become. Still, she would live. For centuries. Maybe she’d live for a millennium. Who knew?
Her heartbeat slowed. Her head thumped against his chest.
She’d be with Louis forever.
“Our love protected you from making you my thrall, but you’ll still need three days of rest.” He combed her knotty hair with his fingers. “We’ll let you stay with your cousin for now. You said she’s got werewolves on standby. That should give you plenty of time to acclimate to your new form.”
“Ye… yeah.” Dying took longer than she expected. “I… I’m sorry. About fighting you, I mean.”
“It’s all right.” His voice bordered between love and regret. “Rest, darling.”
His gentle voice lulled her to sleep.
She’d scold him for turning h
er when she woke up.
18
Three days later, Louis visited Joe’s home in Loch Raven with a bouquet of red roses and a bottle of his prototype cologne underneath one arm.
Moving Evie back to his mansion became problematic once they moved her body to Jem’s Camaro. For one, the werewolf objected to driving a dead body to his home. He wanted her to rest in the morgue under their doctor’s supervision. While Louis didn’t mind Raymond—he supplied him with all his donated blood for a small fee—Evie needed proper rest. Half-assery would make for an exhausted vampire. He didn’t need another bitchy woman on his heels.
Jemina was bad enough.
Once they got Evie into the mansion, Joe complained again. He objected when Louis delivered a coffin back to his estate. It wasn’t his fault a fledgling vampire needed three days of rest inside either a coffin or a freshly dug grave. Vampires always had dirt in their coffins. At least, he did.
Poor Evie. She’d have a fight on her hands with those werewolves.
Better her than him, though.
He pulled his car into their grand estate. There were enough evergreen trees surrounding the property to make a development of new houses. Still, he envied the grumpy werewolf. Those wolves roamed as they pleased without a care in the world. Safe and free.
Unlike him.
It took a few minutes to drive to their cozy little home. Once the trail ended, a grandiose mansion rested on an acre of property surrounded by those damned evergreen and sycamore trees. Someone planted apple trees near the front of their house. A few half-eaten apples rested on the grass. A child spread their toys across the yard. A bicycle and a Jolly Roger adorned skateboard rested by the first porch step.
He snorted. Pups.
For once, kids would be kids.
A black Mustang and a Camaro sat in the rocky driveway. Another red Mustang had parked next to the Camaro. Beside the mansion, a brown wooden swing hung to one side next to a trellis of roses and a makeshift herb garden.
Why didn't Evelyn live here?
Louis stepped out of the Beetle, wrinkling his nose at the putrid stench of musty, wet dog. Bloody werewolves. They stank to the high heavens. If they harmed Evelyn, he’d destroy every single one of those mangy bastards.
He covered his nose and walked toward the door.
“Mama!” A young Latino boy resembling Jemina ran up to him. “There's a weird man standing in our yard!”
Damn whelps. What happened to teaching children basic manners?
Well, he hadn’t tried staking him yet.
That was something, at least.
“Hi.” Louis swallowed his disgust as another wave of pine and mildew assaulted his nostrils. “I’m here to see Evie—I mean Evelyn.”
The kid eyeballed him. “You stink.”
“Mind your manners.” Louis bopped him on the head. “It’s rude to insult your elders.”
“Sorry.” Mini-Jemina rubbed his scalp. “Let me get Mama. She’s making chimichangas in the kitchen.”
He cringed. They better not try feeding Evelyn.
Her new metabolism couldn’t handle human food.
The face of the pack—their fearless alcoholic—opened the front door. His frayed jean vest and greasy jeans gave off the hard-working, yet semi-rebellious vibe. He showed off his muscles when he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
Louis grinned.
Joe had his hands full with Evie and his kid.
“Reggie, go find something to do.” The werewolf nudged the boy toward the yard. “Let the adults have a private conversation. Okay?”
Reggie pointed an accusatory finger at their guest. “He stinks, Dad.”
“Curb your tongue or I’ll tan your hide, boy.”
The boy hung his head, then headed into the yard.
Louis brushed his shoes off in the grass. “Nice to see some old-fashioned discipline.”
“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Joe’s voice turned tense. “It’s weird seeing you visit Evelyn, though. You’ve always chased Aviere’s mom around town.”
Okay. He could understand Joe’s surprised attitude. The couple hung around Myra’s sick daughter. Of course, she grew up, but her mother treated her like a child. Always did. As for her friends—well—they became overprotective. Her husband was the worst offender.
He cleared his throat. He was here to visit Evie.
Not Myra.
“Myra aside….” Agitation crept into the vampire’s voice. “I came to see my bloody girlfriend, not get lectured by a freaking werewolf. So, save your tedious lecture. Nothing could have changed Evie’s unfortunate accident.”
Joe scoffed. “No worries. I already said my piece.”
“And were they scathing words?” Louis cracked his neck. “Or did someone comfort her?”
“Truthful ones.” The younger man pulled out a Slim Jim from his pocket and opened it. “I don’t baby my werewolves or my woman. Evelyn doesn’t get special treatment here.”
“Scathing words won’t heal her broken spirit.”
“Neither did turning her into a vampire without her permission.”
Wonderful. Another pretentious prick played the morality card.
He didn’t have a bloody choice.
“Look, she had a fatal injury when I turned her.” He snatched the Slim Jim from Joe’s hand and used it as a pointer. “Simon trapped her inside one of his perverted illusions. He stabbed her in the chest. Unfortunately, he severed the aortic arch, so she almost drowned in her own blood. We ran out of options.”
“You didn’t ask her.”
Louis bit into the Slim Jim, pretending it was the werewolf’s neck. “She was choking on her own blood.”
“You destroyed her faith in God.” Joe drummed his claws against the wooden doorframe. “Jem tried consoling her. She said she could become God’s Champion since people drank from the blood of Christ.”
Oh boy. Religious guilt-tripping at its finest.
What a great way to reform her broken spirit.
“Technically, she could become a templar knight.” He could hear Darius’s disapproval now. “Well, a dark knight, to be precise.”
Joe bared his fangs. “One more bullshit remark and you’ll wait an eternity to see Evelyn.”
Oh, please. As if waiting another lifetime would intimidate him.
“Anyway, come inside.” Mr. Snarky Werewolf stepped back and him inside. “My formal invitation gets revoked if you harm Jem, Reggie, or my pack. Got me?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Try not to startle Jem in the kitchen.”
Garlic—his hated enemy—chili powder, cumin, onions, and cayenne peppers chased away the werewolf’s already offensive scent. He gagged when a mouthful of garlic made him salivate. Yet he poked his head into the kitchen, then covered his mouth when the Latino cuisine became too much to bear.
Louis growled. Thank goodness Evie couldn’t eat.
He’d have a heart attack between the garlic and seven varieties of peppers.
“We’ve kept her in the spare bedroom since she woke up from her dirt nap. She slept until eleven-thirty this morning. Of course, she’s fuzzy-headed from hunger, so she doesn’t remember much about becoming Draculina Van Helsing. You’ll have to fill in those details.”
Joe plucked an amber-colored bottle off the tall rustic end table and took a generous swig.
“She keeps ranting about an armed knight and being escorted by hellish templar knights. And an asshole vampire’s voice. She’s insistent on that detail.”
Aw, how adorable. Evie misses me.
He bit his cheek. “Yeah. It got intense after Simon attacked her.”
“Just try making her accept her undead self. We’ve already said she’s welcome here, but she’s depressed because she misses her family.”
Well, they wouldn’t accept her now.
Catholics always made examples of their sinners.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Louis rubbed the b
ottle of cologne in his pocket. “She might scream at me, though.”
“Take the last door on your right.” Joe headed back down the hallway. “Don’t destroy my house. Or have sex. That’d be preferable, pumpkin.”
Oh, it’s on, now.
He held back a chuckle.
Of course, Darius would accept that challenge.
Louis headed into the bedroom and set the bouquet of flowers on the marble countered desk beside the door. Once he stepped inside the darkened room, he frowned. This wasn’t a bedroom. Not at all. They locked her inside a study with no windows.
They just moved a bed in here.
Evie stirred at the light, lifting her head from the pillow. Her curly locks framed her pale despondent face. She met his eyes, then stared at the wall.
Damn.
The werewolf wasn’t exaggerating.
“Evie.” He flipped the light switch, then locked the door behind him. “How are you, sweetheart?”
She covered her eyes. “Just fucking peachy.”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“I’m dead.” She stared at her hands. “My heart doesn’t beat anymore. My stomach doesn’t growl when I’m hungry. I puked up water and sunlight burns me. I loved having a tan. Now, I can’t go to Ocean City with Jem because I’ll catch on fire. I can’t even sit by an open window for Christ’s sake.”
To demonstrate her point, Evie showed him her right arm.
Small blisters adorned her skin.
“I know.” He ventured by the bed and sat beside her. “I can’t understand—”
“You’re right.” Evelyn shoved him away. “You can’t.”
“Right.” He placed his hands in his lap. “I’m a Daywalker, but I’ve never went tanning before.”
His hand inched toward her leg.
She gave him her nastiest glare.
“What was I supposed to do, Evelyn?” His voice cracked. “You almost died. Your cousin screamed at me to save you. I couldn’t let you go. No, we couldn’t let you go. Besides, you’d become a thrall if Simon bit you. You didn’t want that, right?”
“It wasn’t your decision.” She tossed her pillow at the wall. “You gave me a fate worse than Death.”
“So, you’ll never meet your precious God.” He grabbed her hand. “Not a lot of mortals will.”
“It wasn’t about meeting him.” She slapped his arm. “My faith… it—”
Vulture’s Kiss Page 24