The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1)

by Anna Abner

  Anger bubbled through his veins, just under the surface. He grabbed the gilt, padded chair Ali had vacated, the one retaining a bit of her scent, and flung it against the opposite wall. Wood splintered and cracks split the plaster into capillaries. Roz flinched.

  “No, Rozlyn, because she has blood in her hair, and I’m a fucking vampire!”

  He narrowed the distance between them, smelling her fear. It didn’t do shit to calm him down. If anything, it made him worse.

  “Don’t yell at me.” Her voice wobbled the tiniest bit. “You didn’t used to…before she came along.”

  She held his gaze for a moment and, to her benefit, she didn’t let a single tear fall. “I’m going out.” Grabbing her bag, she left in a whirl of dark hair and jasmine-scented lotion.

  “Son of a bitch,” Connor swore, banging his forehead against the wall, relishing the pain that spiked across his skull.

  #

  Ali closed and locked the door behind her before taking in the spacious bathroom. It was just as over-the-top luxurious as the rest of the suite with marble tile, a whirlpool tub on a pedestal, and a stand-alone shower big enough for three. Maybe four.

  The only flaw in the place was a pockmark in the tile wall roughly the size of Connor’s fist. She ran her fingers over the fractured marble.

  Connor’s scent was everywhere, hanging in the steamy air and clinging to the feathery soft towels. As Ali dragged her filthy clothing off her body, she grew more and more altered on his masculine scent. By the time she stepped under the trio of showerheads, her mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of him. Connor wasn’t twenty feet away, nothing but a flimsy door separating them. The idea of him watching her shower was not an unpleasant little fantasy.

  She’d only been naked with one man in her entire life. And once she’d gotten that bit of rebellion out of her system, Ali hadn’t pursued an encore. With anyone. But all bets were off with Connor. Being around him felt different. Her body reacted differently.

  As she ran the soapy washcloth over herself, including the row of three stitches on her throat, she pictured home. She’d be there before too much longer, in her own flat, in her own shower, drying off with a clean towel, and climbing into her own pajamas. Not stuck in the desert with an inscrutable new vampire. A day, two at the most, to sort out the Anya mystery, and then she’d be gone.

  The truth was, Connor made her nervous in a whole new way. When he did that deep stare thing, her knees weakened. The memory alone had her insides quivering and her lower abdomen humming in appreciation.

  Ali so did not need to be having warm, wet fantasies about Connor, no matter how tall he was, or how strong his arms were, or whether she’d saved his life with her bare hands. He would continue with his grisly business, and she would go home. Period. Thoughts about anything more intimate were not only idiotic, but also counter-productive.

  The giant flashing warning sign above her head went crazy. If he knew her secret, he’d be disgusted. Her dad certainly had been. She’d be utterly ashamed. All her neat little fantasies would rot away to nothing the moment Connor discovered the darkness inside her.

  Ali stepped out of the shower stall a human being again. She’d washed off the dirt and blood and overall road grime of the last couple of days, turning the water muddy brown. She combed out her hair to let it air dry against her shoulders and wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel before peeking out the door.

  The witch was gone. And Connor was tearing the room, the bags, all their clothes and personal effects apart. A bra hung from a lamp. Books, toothpaste, and tampons were strewn across the bed, and one of the chairs lay in pieces.

  “Everything okay?” she ventured, edging into the room, keeping an eye on the only exit.

  “No.” He dumped a backpack, scattering the contents. “I need a goddamned mint.” Not finding any, he whipped the empty sack against the balcony doors.

  “Oh.” Confused why he’d need candy this badly, she decided it might not be sugar he craved.

  Connor turned, a look of utter desperation on his face. “I thought I had one more roll of mints. Have you seen it?” He wore his shirt inside out, his damp hair standing up on the right side.

  “Is there gum in the mini bar?” Ali held the towel tight to her breasts and wrestled a pair of Roz’s shorts up her legs. She turned her back to him and pulled on the same cropped top from earlier as quick as she could, not worrying about a bra.

  He moved so far into her personal space she smelled his clean, masculine scent before she heard him. She backed into the wall, his wide chest looming over her.

  “I need a mint.”

  “Distract yourself.”

  “I can’t!” He punched the wall next to her head.

  Her father’s red, scrunched up face flashed in her mind. That and the back of Dad’s hand against her jaw.

  “Don’t.” She waited for a blow, but none landed. Silence. She opened her eyes.

  “Someone’s hit you,” Connor said softly.

  “Of course not.” Ali scuttled away, pretending to look for shoes, but really she couldn’t focus on sandals, boots, or sneakers. Memories shuffled through her mind like cards in a well-worn deck. Getting hit in the face, pinched on the back of the arm. And that look—utter disgust and shame mixed with anger.

  “Who hit you?”

  “No one.” She pushed her toes into a pair of gunmetal gray flip-flops. All that mattered was no one was going to hit her again. Or worse, make her feel ashamed again. Because Dad was gone.

  He tapped his fingers on the table in a rapid staccato. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m fine.” He hadn’t done anything except bring up rotten memories. Not his fault. She was ready to let the past go. For good.

  With nothing left to do, Ali crossed to the bed, but didn’t sit down. Connor paced in front of her. Back and forth, back and forth.

  “I’m so messed up.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I thought I could control myself. But I need…”

  Blood. He didn’t have to say it. They all knew.

  “You haven’t yet?”

  He shook his head.

  Oh God, he must be in so much pain. Why hadn’t he found something to drink? She’d assumed, during those long runs, he’d hunted an animal at the very least. A bunny, a squirrel, a bobcat.

  “What are you going to do?” She could feed him. A little bit wouldn’t harm her, but it would steady him until they found a better supply. Ali imagined cutting herself, on her palm maybe, and offering it to him. He’d put his warm, slightly scruffy face to her skin, sink his fangs into her flesh, and suck…

  Connor’s hands were fists again. “Who hit you?”

  So much for her swooning vampire fantasy. Back to reality.

  “My father.” What a relief to say it aloud. For so long he’d been another of her secrets. Since his death, it seemed less important to protect him. Her gaze scanned the disaster zone that had once been a tidy hotel room. “Geez, you’ve made a mess.” She picked up three shirts and stuffed them into a dresser.

  “Stop cleaning.” He moved into her eye line. “Did he hit you a lot?”

  She closed the drawer. “It’s no big deal, really.” It was obvious by his expression, he wasn’t letting her off that easy. So, she decided to trust him with some of the truth. “He didn’t like unnecessary emotions. Especially crying.” Ali laughed awkwardly. “Oh, he hated crying most of all.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It has nothing to do with you. Don’t worry about it.” She crossed into the walk-in closet and knelt to sort a mish-mash pile of shoes and socks. “You have to learn to control this.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  Ali paired a leather boot with its mate and stood. Roz would say, You will. But she wasn’t Roz.

  “Then you’re too dangerous to live.”

  Connor’s fingers rose up to play with a hole in her shirtsleeve as his gaze drifted over her chest, arms, and exposed
midriff, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

  “I won’t hurt you.” He said it like a promise, like a solemn vow. “I’ll kill myself first.”

  Her skin flushed under his scrutiny. She wet her lips. “I know.”

  “Nothing and no one is going to hurt you. Not while I’m around.” His gaze lingered on her mouth. And then he found her eyes. “I want to kiss you.”

  Her eyebrows surged. “You do?” She couldn’t keep up with this guy. Did all infecteds shift moods so rapidly? Did they all smell like a forest at night and stare with sad, soulful eyes for an uncomfortably long time?

  Connor leaned into her, his jeans brushing her bare thighs. She arched her back as his right hand slid across the nape of her neck. His breath fanned her face, and her eyelids fluttered closed in agonizing anticipation.

  The doorknob turned. Ali heard footsteps, but she didn’t care. Nothing could break her focus on the man hovering millimeters from her lips.

  Nothing except Roz’s disgusted tone. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Connor backed slowly away, taking all the warmth in the room with him. Someone needed to teach the witch to knock.

  “I wish I had bleach to splash in my eyes,” Roz said, crossing the room and setting several paper bags on the table. “I’ll never recover from what I just saw.” She opened her cache, and the rich, mouth-watering smells of spicy food filled the living room. “I brought dinner.”

  The idea of a hot meal blew all other thoughts from Ali’s mind. Kisses, shmisses. She needed nourishment. She hadn’t eaten much of her sandwich at lunch.

  “It smells great,” Ali said, joining her at the long dining table.

  Connor hovered near the flat screen, staring holes through the rug.

  “Veggie egg rolls, chicken, rice, and broccoli.” Roz unpacked cartons of steaming food. “And I stopped by the butcher’s.” She handed Connor a heavy, wrinkled paper sack.

  He lifted a jar of blood half out, and his whole body reacted with a jolt. He rushed for the bathroom, but he didn’t make it before he’d torn the lid from the jar and gulped down huge mouthfuls of blood. Seconds ticked by as he swallowed, making sloppy, angry noises in the back of his throat.

  He dropped the jar onto the floor where it rolled at his feet, empty. For a long few seconds he stood, his back to the room, his chest heaving. Finally, he faced them. And she sucked in a horrified breath.

  He looked like a monster.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ali couldn’t move, couldn’t even think straight for a solid three seconds because Connor stared at her with wild, desperate eyes as dark blood dripped down his chin.

  “Connor?” Roz’s sharp tone brought him back to himself. He blinked down at his bloodstained shirt and then at the empty jar.

  “I didn’t mean to.” Without elaborating, he locked himself in the bathroom and ran the water in the sink.

  Ali glanced at Roz, but neither said what they were both thinking. He’s not okay.

  Roz dug for silverware, and then portioned out food as if nothing whatsoever was wrong. Ali accepted a plate of steaming Chinese food, but she couldn’t eat. Connor had looked like a feral cat caught enjoying a fresh kill, like he’d growl if she got any closer. Or attack. Was that normal? Did all vampires lose themselves when they fed?

  The sink in the bathroom went quiet, and he stepped out, his face and hair damp. He saw Ali first, and then his gaze fell upon Roz. He crossed the room and pulled her tightly to his chest.

  “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

  “That was too close,” the witch whispered back, her hands winding around his waist.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You were hungry. I could see it in your face.”

  A jolt of jealousy hit Ali right between the eyes. They had something, a special bond that Ali would never be a part of. Not that she wanted to be. She was going home. Today. Maybe tomorrow. And yet, the feeling remained.

  Ali pretended to be fascinated with the different cartons of food while she listened to every word they spoke.

  “I need you here,” Connor groaned at the witch. “You have no idea how much.”

  “I promised, didn’t I?” Roz gave him a last pat on the back and extricated herself from his embrace. “You’re the only family I have left.” She said it so softly, Ali knew she wasn’t meant to overhear it.

  “I’m going to take my shower,” Roz said.

  He changed his shirt, again, and then yanked on a pair of heavy-duty work boots as if he had somewhere to be all of a sudden.

  “The blood helped.” Connor gestured toward the fallen jar. “But I need more.”

  Ali took a step in his direction. “I’ll go with you.” She didn’t want to sit in the hotel room with Roz. It didn’t have anything to do with her new vampire fantasy. It had to do with scoping out the bus depot and the taxi situation. Nothing else.

  He grabbed the carton of veggie rolls, jabbed a fork down among them, and handed it to her. “Let’s go.”

  She gladly accepted the food and stuffed another morsel in her mouth as she followed him to the lift and out into the street. Connor’s strides ate up the concrete, and she had to jog to keep up.

  The noise and lights of the Strip, even this early in the evening, were disorienting.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked.

  “I’ll find it.” He laid his finger on the tip of his nose.

  Oh, right. Super senses.

  Casinos with plinking slot machines and groups of people in heated discussions whipped by. “Can you slow down?” she called.

  He bowed his head, waiting for her to catch up. “Sorry.” When he continued, his pace matched hers.

  “Thanks.” She chewed her food, her mind still in the hotel room and on that hug. I need you. “So, you and Roz,” she blurted out. “Have you ever…?”

  “No. We’re best friends.” He winced. “That sounds so lame.”

  Ali didn’t think so. Connor loved the witch. Even if their relationship remained platonic forever, they shared more than some couples she knew. A twinge of regret vibrated along her skin. She’d never had a best friend, male or female.

  “I know what you mean,” Ali said. “You love her.”

  “Of course.” He shrugged. “But not like that.”

  “How did you two meet?” She was gathering information, nothing more. Harmless curiosity. She wasn’t jealous.

  “In college.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but there’s got to be more to it.”

  “She dated my friend, Tyler.”

  “Okay.” It was a start. “And you asked her to travel the country with you?”

  “Not exactly.” Connor paused at the corner of the next intersection, checking left and then right. He reached down and clasped her hand, leading her across the busy street. Their skin rubbed, her softer palm against his rougher one, creating a friction that reverberated all the way up her arm.

  She rolled the last bite of egg roll from the carton into her mouth, quick, before she moaned aloud and embarrassed herself. “What, then?”

  “We were all at a party.” He released her hand. “Tyler was showing off, messing around on the balcony. He fell.”

  Oh, God. “Was he okay?”

  “No.” Connor led her around an older couple, and then sidestepped a vender’s cart. “He was dying, or already dead, by the time we all got downstairs. Someone ran for the resident advisor. Roz called her power and spoke healing spells over him.”

  Ali had never been to parties in London in her normal life. She wasn’t allowed. But if someone had witched out in front of her, she would’ve freaked. Probably run for it. For the first time she felt a teeny tiny twinge of sympathy for Roz.

  “I’d been trying to find someone to come with me for a while, ever since my prophecy went public. Rumors spread about me. But when Roz outed herself, she became a freak like me. I figured she had nothing to lose by coming with me.”

 
Ali could spill her guts right here, right now. I’m a freak, too. But her dad’s lessons were too entrenched. The darkness inside her was evil. If she revealed it, she’d be subject to ridicule, disgust, and then experimentation. No one could ever find out. Not even Connor.

  “What about Tyler?” she asked. “Did she heal him?”

  “He died.”

  “So, she revealed her magic for nothing.” Roz had risked a lot to help her friend. Witches weren’t common. None of the supernaturals were. And most of the time, if someone was a witch, a shifter, or an indestructible, they kept it to themselves.

  “Did you know she was a witch before that night?”

  “Nope.” He pulled open the door to a brightly lit casino, one of the older establishments that smelled like sweat and smoke. They weaved around blinking quarter machines toward the rear. Beside the bar, Connor opened a swinging door, held it for Ali, and then followed her into a dimly lit industrial kitchen.

  He nodded at a man in a chef’s hat, and they spoke in hushed voices. The chef disappeared through another door, and Connor kept his broad back to Ali.

  Tubs of sausages, steaks, and chicken parts covered stainless steel counters, so Ali stuck close to the door and tried not to breathe too deeply. She’d never been able to handle the smell of fresh meat, even before she’d become a vegetarian. Quickly, she tossed the remains of her dinner into a trash bin.

  The chef returned with two plastic cartons of blood and wrapped them in brown paper bags. Connor paid him with wrinkled bills, and they left the way they’d come.

  After holding the door for her, Connor stepped onto the sidewalk, chose a carton, and kept it covered with the bag while he gulped down the contents. He didn’t vamp out this time, though. His control was back. He dropped the empty jar into a trashcan. The second one, he stuffed under one arm.

  A certain, nameless tension eased out from his neck and shoulders. The blood had calmed him. He was a far cry from the predator who’d stared at her like she was a raw steak earlier in the day.