“Then what, Diana?” He held out his hands, palms up in pleading. She knew how hard that was for him. He wasn’t the kind of man to beg.
She clutched her arms around her middle. She’d always thought she was strong, but when it came to him, she was weak in so many ways—confused when she’d always been rational, scared when she’d always been fearless.
“The other night…you terrified me,” she admitted.
This time he was the one who looked away. He dragged his hands roughly through his hair, then laced his fingers behind his head and stood there, his chest expanding as he sucked in a breath and held it. When he finally exhaled, his entire body seemed to deflate before her eyes. He turned his gaze on her and sadness filled the dark depths. Sadness and despair—emotions that mirrored her own.
She stepped forward and finally touched him, laying her hand in the middle of his chest, and looked up at him.
“You terrified me, because deep in here—” she laid her free hand over her own heart—“I’m not sure what I want. I’m scared I can’t handle those darkest parts of myself if you were to turn me. I’m so afraid you’ll stop loving what I’ll become.”
He covered her hand on his chest with his. “I know how turning can change a person. I’ve lived it. But I survived to become what I am now. What you love now.”
She smiled wistfully. “I do love you, Ryder. But I’m not sure I’m as strong as you are. Not sure I can maintain enough humanity to control the demon. I already lost my way once before and barely came through it alive.”
“I’ll help you through the worst of it. I have faith that you can control the vampire when the time comes.”
She moved swiftly, covering his mouth with her hand. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life worrying about the ‘when.’ I want to heal now so I can be whole again.” It wasn’t often in her life that Diana didn’t have a game plan. Not since she’d nearly drowned in the abyss. From the day she’d awoken face-down in her own tequila-laced vomit, she’d set herself on a course to become someone who mattered. Someone who made a difference, and did the right thing, as her father had asked her to do.
Despite Ryder’s reassurance, she had no guarantee she wouldn’t become one of the soulless beasts that roamed the streets, preying on those she’d once sworn to protect.
She lowered her hand to his heart again. “I want to live each day at a time, my love. See where life takes us, without worrying about the ‘when.’ ”
With a slow but accepting nod, Ryder slid his hands to her hips. “Whatever you need, darlin’. I’ll be here for you.”
“I just need a little more distance, Ryder. I won’t be long. I promise.”
Ryder sighed. “I came home early to spend time with you. But something’s come up, so I’ll go to Diego’s to help out. Give you some space.”
She heard an uneasiness in his voice that had nothing to do with her. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing we can’t handle.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and disappeared in a blast of vampire speed before she had time to ask anything else.
Chapter Eleven
Diego opened the door wide to let Ryder in, his features carefully schooled.
“What’s happened?” Ryder asked.
“Jeremy’s flight got diverted to Iceland. He won’t be able to make the parlay tonight. Stacia’s still in Florida with her new husband, and it’s too late to call her.”
Which would leave only three of their own Council to face the Slayer Council. “How many members are there in the slayer contingent?”
Diego shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but he was obviously nervous. “No fewer than six. Plus they usually bring one or two of their up and coming slayers for extra muscle.”
Ryder considered the odds. Eight to three. Not good. “If you need me, I’ll have your back.”
Diego smiled in relief. He clapped Ryder on the shoulder. “Thanks. We should be going, then. The meet is on the Lower East Side.”
And they were uptown. “Let’s do it.”
With a nod, Diego released his vampire and flew out the door. Ryder followed. With the freedom of the late hour, they sped along the streets of their residential areas and Central Park with little human contact.
The business areas of Midtown along Third Avenue were virtually deserted until they reached the edges of the Lower East Side and the Hudson River. Here and there, workers lingered along the docks and small warehouses.
As they came to a halt in front of one, Ryder had a disturbing sense of déjà vu. He’d been tortured in a warehouse just like this one. If not for Diana, he would be dead at the hands of a serial killer. Thank God she’d found him.
She’d saved him in more ways than one.
“Are you okay?” Diego stared at him hard.
“I’m fine,” he replied, just as a series of powerful vibrations, like the beat of massive wings, registered in his brain. With a swoop, Hadrian and Maximilian landed beside them.
Hadrian had lost the investment banker look in exchange for warrior leathers and denim. Beneath his leather jacket, a tight T-shirt showed off impressive muscles, and his heavy boots would come in handy if someone needed to be stomped.
Maximilian had not taken a cue from his elder friend. His shirt boasted a tropical motif of flowers on a teal-blue background. His skinny jeans were in a matching teal and led down to sneakers in hot pink.
Ryder shook hands with Hadrian, who rolled his eyes at Ryder’s bemused expression. “Don’t let the outfit fool you. Max is ready and able to kick some slayer ass.”
The colorful designer extended his hand and said with a purr, “If she won’t have you, I will.”
Ryder jerked his hand away, reminded of just how powerful the elders were, and how much they could see with vampire senses honed through the centuries.
“Mind your manners, Max. He hasn’t given you permission to read him,” Hadrian scolded.
Maximilian pouted like a small child.
“Spoilsport.”
Diego gestured to the door of the warehouse. “Shall we?”
Hadrian nodded, and Diego glanced at Ryder. “It’s normally youngest first. But I’ll go first this time.”
Ryder respected Diego’s desire to protect him, and while he did not want to be the sacrificial lamb, he also had no wish to break the rules. He waved off Diego and approached the door.
“I can handle this.”
Reaching deep inside to tap the anger he’d felt earlier, Ryder brought his demon to the surface, and with it, all the vampire power he possessed. Even before he grabbed the doorknob, he perceived several humans inside—the slayers—along with another presence. Not quite human, since he detected the pulsing beat of vampire power. Woven through those energies was something else. A low steady hum, like electricity singing along a wire.
The group was a distance from the door, but he was still able to hear their soft whispers.
“We want no trouble tonight,” said a female, and the others echoed agreement.
With that small measure of comfort, Ryder opened the door, keeping his vampire leashed but ready for action.
As they entered, the humans formed a line, the two younger ones at either side stepping in front, as if to offer protection. They were all armed, holding an assortment of crosses, stakes, knives, and swords. The two younger slayers also carried small crossbows. The arrows—silver, no doubt—were nocked, ready to be fired.
As the three vampire elders filed in and took their places beside him, Ryder peered at one youngster, a twenty-something female. She had dark, nearly midnight-black hair that fell in choppy layers against her attractive face. Her shockingly blue eyes were alert and keen, radiating extreme intelligence. He’d seen her before. That intense color was unmistakable.
He also realized, as he picked up on that pulsing beat again, that she was not what she seemed. Not fully human.
The black leather jacket she wore fit tightly against her body, accentuating both her slimness
and small stature. Despite her size, the material lovingly detailed the muscle beneath.
A warrior, like Diana. Her gaze met his and softened. She recognized him, too.
The voice he’d heard from outside broke the uncomfortable silence between the opposing Councils. “You asked for this parlay, so why don’t you begin?”
Ryder dragged his attention to the woman who had spoken. Tall, black, and beautiful, she was definitely not someone to toy with. Her long, wiry body was roped with muscle, and along one arm, an angry row of slash marks were badges of courage from battle. She also bore a series of small, circular wounds on one shoulder. Vampire bites.
Hadrian stepped forward, his demon face on and a slight swagger in his step. “Always good to see you, Evangeline.”
“I wish I could say the same, Hadrian. Rumor has it you’ve bred?” A sneer marred her face and she touched the stake at her waist, caressing it lovingly.
“My wife and I have a baby. The wife I saved from a piece of human scum who’d mortally wounded her.”
So much for keeping things friendly.
Diego laid a hand on Hadrian’s shoulder, cautiously urged him back, then took the lead. “We came here to keep the peace, Evangeline.”
One of the slayer men stepped up to her, whispered something in her ear, and she nodded. “There have been two kills, but we had nothing to do with them.”
“You didn’t sanction them?” Diego shot a quick look at the vamp contingent.
“Should we have?” asked the man who had just spoken to Evangeline.
Diego bowed his head respectfully at the man. “They were both young and harmless, Benjamin. Maybe that’s why they were so easily duped by a slayer.”
“Why do you insist it was one of us?” asked the familiar female.
Evangeline glared at her. “Silence, Michaela. Do not make me regret that we tolerate you.”
Interesting choice of words. Michaela visibly vibrated with anger, but restrained herself, in total control. Ryder’s respect for her went up a few notches. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been so calm, considering the other woman’s obnoxious attitude.
Diego addressed his answer to Benjamin, who seemed friendlier than the tall woman. “Both vampires had their throats slashed and were impaled with stakes bearing the St. Andrew’s cross. The wounds across their throats bore traces of silver nitrate.”
Benjamin was a handsome young man with deep brown hair that fell smoothly around a boyish face. His sharp blue eyes sized them up, but unlike Evangeline, his hands were loose at his sides. Ryder suspected he’d be instantly ready if it came down to a fight. The lack of scars on his body showed his skill as a warrior.
“All the evidence points to the fact that a slayer did this,” Hadrian said firmly.
A third man broke from the slayer pack and joined Evangeline and Benjamin. He was older and slightly hunched, with an anemic and perpetually worried look about him. “Or it could be a copycat. That is also a possibility.”
Hadrian stepped forward again. With an exasperated snort, he said, “You slayers guard your secrets too well for that, Xander. Do you really think an ordinary human, one without slayer training, would know your rituals this well? The penalty for revealing your secrets is death. The penalty for an unsanctioned kill is death.”
“You ask too much, vampire!” Evangeline’s muscles quivered with barely controlled rage.
Diego spread his hands placatingly before him, struggling to keep things civil. “All we ask is that you put a stop to these murders, and keep the peace both our Councils swore to uphold. How you do that is up to you.”
Chapter Twelve
“I can’t believe the balls on her.” Hadrian strode back and forth in the parlor of Diego’s home, his steps short and on the verge of violent. “All they offer us is some piss-ass slayer-in-training poking around!”
“A full slayer,” Diego corrected.
“That’s not possible. She’s way too young.”
“She’s different than the others. Half human and half vampire,” Ryder said.
Diego nodded. “She’s a dhampir, and a full slayer, Hadrian. Did you let your fear unbalance you so much you didn’t register the undead energy in her?”
Maximilian, who had been silent during the entire parlay and on the return trip to Diego’s, finally spoke.
“Why don’t you understand that he has the most to lose? Again?” He went to Hadrian and laid a hand on his shoulder, which calmed him somewhat.
“I understand, Max,” Diego conceded. “Which is why I say let the little dhampir do as her Council has commanded. She might be young, but she seems competent. And Benjamin will be working with her. In the meantime, we’ll find out what we can on our own.”
Hadrian clenched his fists. Behind gritted teeth, he said, “I need to get home to my family. My family, do you get that?”
Ryder inclined his head. “I do, Hadrian. You’re a lucky man to have what you have.”
What Diana had probably also wanted at one time…and had sacrificed to be with him.
Hadrian stalked out of the apartment and Maximilian hurried after him.
The door closed with a slam like a gunshot that had Ryder flinching. He’d heard the real version once too often.
“It’s time I go,” he told Diego, and headed out the door. He wanted to be home. Hadrian’s emotional outburst had reminded him of the emptiness of his own life before Diana. Of what his days and nights were like now.
Loving. Full. Complicated.
So damned complicated. He flew through Central Park toward his condo on the East Side. Even with his speed and the late night, he saw scattered silhouettes of people walking along the pathways. Singles. Couples.
Lots of couples.
He went straight up to the bedroom and found her tucked in bed. A stain of color warmed her cheeks. A healthy blush, he noted with pleasure, but that quickly faded as he perceived something else. She wasn’t asleep. Again. With rising annoyance, he waited for her to avoid him again. But to his surprise, he got a sleepy smile and a shift of her hand to pat the empty space beside her.
“Come to bed,” she murmured.
Armed with hope, he undressed and slipped into bed beside her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her near, pleased when she welcomed him close.
…
Despite Diana’s earlier fears, Ryder’s presence brought her comfort. She relaxed against him, allowing herself to finally drift into sleep. She’d been tossing and turning all night, awaiting his return. Missing him, because he brought her soul peace.
But her rest was short-lived. The dream clawed its way into her brain.
It had been a long time since she’d had it.
In an instant, she was hurled back to the worst day of her life. In motion so slow that each heartbeat seemed to take forever, the car came toward her and her father, the heavy bass beat of the car stereo booming. But not loud enough to hide the load and click of gun magazines.
At the sound, her father’s head whipped toward the street. He pulled her behind him, but not before the pop-pop-pop of gunfire shattered the tranquillity of the morning.
Heat sizzled on her side. In front of her, his body jerked, then did a slow crumple at her feet. Tires screeched angrily against cement as the car with the shooters fishtailed, then raced away. With a cry, she dropped to her knees and cradled her father in her arms. She brought her hand to the wound in his chest and pressed hard, desperately trying to stem the blood turning the blue of his uniform to black. Trying to hold death at bay.
Her fingers were wet and warm as his life left his body. The blood seeped past her hand onto the ground, the color of it vivid scarlet in the sunlight. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and acrid in her nose, along with the odor of burning rubber from the car tires.
“Papi, no. Por favor, Papi,” she cried, and held him close. The noise of the world around them, the wails of the other students who had seen the shooting, and the screaming sirens all faded un
til it was just the two of them.
“Niña. So proud.” He tried to reach for her, but his arm just flopped uselessly. He was already too weak to move.
“Do the right thing, mi’ja. Always do…right…thing,” he said on a long exhale.
And then he was gone, his beautiful hazel eyes empty of life. Staring sightlessly into the bright Miami sun.
He was at peace in her arms, tranquil, his blood sticky on her hands. His body growing chilly even with the warmth of the early summer day.
She kissed his forehead. The fragrance of his aftershave was familiar, and she battled to remember its scent rather than the smell of death.
A hand tugged at her shoulder, trying to pull her away. The blue of a police uniform appeared, but she refused to loosen her hold on her father, still rocking him in her arms. Promising him over and over she would always do the right thing, as if that might somehow bring him back.
Another touch came, more familiar than the first, along with a gentle voice, tearfully pleading with her.
“Hermanita. You’re hurt,” her brother Sebastian said, despair spilling from his voice.
She met a shattered gaze filled with suffering and pain. Loneliness. He’d never really been the son her father had wanted. Not like she’d been.
She pulled Sebastian close and he put his arms around her, sharing his deep, overwhelming grief. Saying his good-bye to a father who had never understood him and now never would.
As Sebastian held her, cold gripped her, and the pain in her side she hadn’t noticed at first intensified to the point of agony.
This was different. Her conscious mind intruded into the dream. It had never been like this before.
She shifted away from her brother to look down at her side. Instead of the usual bullet wound along her ribs, she saw a long, nasty wooden stake buried deep in the flesh of her abdomen, pale white and stained with her blood. She couldn’t pull it from her belly. Her fingers plucked at it futilely, slipping in the blood along its length.
Peering upward, she realized it was no longer Sebastian crouched beside her, but her father. He was in his dress uniform, his newly won lieutenant’s bars gleaming against the dark blue fabric. He’d worked so hard for those bars. So hard, they’d barely seen him the last year of his life. It was why this morning had been so special. Not the award she was to receive, but that he would be there to see it. Finally.
To Love and Serve Page 7