She didn’t want him to hurt when the inevitable happened.
Shaking her head, Carissa walked toward her front door. She’d slept the day away yet again, and now the sun was setting. Flinging open the door, she stepped out onto the porch. Aden had her Durango, so he would be back from wherever he rested during the day in less than half an hour. She eyed the mailbox. She was expecting a letter from her old apartment with a check for her deposit. She’d received the call at the beginning of the week, and they said it would get to her by Thursday, and here it was, seven-thirty on Thursday night.
Carissa heard a noise on the sidewalk and turned to look. A young man was walking, head down, with his hands in his pockets. He looked familiar, but it took a minute to recognize him. Her neighbor’s dogs began to bark, and it dawned on her.
She raised a hand as she called out, “Tommy!”
Her mail carrier raised his head, stopping at her mailbox and grinning when he saw her. “Mrs. Blaine! I didn’t see you there. How have you been?”
Carissa laughed, leaning against a porch post. “I’ve been well—haven’t been spending a lot of time outside recently. Did I get anything in the mail today?”
Tommy nodded. “You did. Just a couple of things. Want me to bring them up to you?”
“No thanks. I’ll be down in a minute to get them myself.” She gestured down to her bare feet. “I don’t have any shoes on.”
Standing up straighter, Tommy tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
A chill wind, inconsistent with the balmy spring night, lifted the hair from her neck, and Carissa, suddenly uneasy, took a step back toward her front door. “Yes, I’m sure. I really should put on shoes before walking out.”
Tommy reached one hand behind his back and pulled out a gun, aiming it at her from the sidewalk. His jovial demeanor suddenly turned cold. “Barefoot is the perfect way to get the mail. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Blaine?”
The sun was down, now. She only needed a few minutes for Aden to get back. Her heart beating wildly, Carissa tried to stall, but Tommy wouldn’t let her. He lifted his thumb, pressing the hammer back. “I will shoot you, Mrs. Blaine. They don’t care too much if you’re in one piece. Come down here, now, or I call for backup.”
Carissa cursed under her breath. It seemed she had no choice. Slowly, she stepped down from the porch and made her way toward him. She knew she couldn’t be slow enough to wait for Aden. When she reached him, Tommy pulled his other hand from his pocket, and in it was the same syringe she’d seen Rafe hand Ryker at the park. Fear clogging her throat, Carissa made a strangled yelping sound and turned to run, but she didn’t make it far. Something heavy struck the back of her head, and a sharp pinch pricked her upper arm. She windmilled her arms, but she couldn’t prevent her fall.
As her body crashed to the ground, the world going dark, she called out the only name that made sense, “Aden!”
Aden sat in the shadows at the back of Carissa’s grandmother’s cabin, listening to the night. The old woman wasn’t there, but he knew he’d be welcome should she turn up—she’d given him permission, after all. Although she might scold him for not having Carissa there, too. Not that he hadn’t tried. The granddaughter was as stubborn as the grandmother was, and twice as sneaky. He couldn’t prevent his smile at the thought of the woman he loved. He was certain she loved him, too, but for some reason she wouldn’t say the words. Maybe tonight…
He tuned into the sounds around him. He heard insects lose their lives to the frogs, and at least one waterfowl end up in the jaws of an alligator. Crickets chirped and katydids filled the air with their abrasive humming. His senses stretched and he could hear people in the homes, some singing, talking, and snoring. Mothers tucked their children in for the night, couples argued, and…oops, that was a bit personal.
As the sun sank below the horizon Aden could hear the news as it played out on various televisions, and the occasional blast of a radio, but his traitorous mind knew what it wanted to find. The silence of Carissa’s house was disconcerting, but Eleanor’s power surrounded the home, so he tried not to worry. The sorceress's spell wouldn't allow him to hear Carissa through it.
At first, all seemed well, but as he began to pull his senses back, he heard something that made his heart stutter. Carissa called his name in terror, and Aden jumped from his seat. He ran outside as the sun disappeared and sped to her house as fast as he could, with his gut telling him there was no way he’d get to her in time. He slammed through her front door, but knew his instincts were right. She was nowhere in the house. Aden flung out his mind, searching, but something blocked his senses. The power masking his was dark, sinister, and left a bitter taste on his tongue.
But no taste was as bitter as the knowledge that Carissa was gone.
Aden inspected everywhere outside – at both of their properties – but there were no clues. Despair filling his heart, he returned to her house. He hoped she had an address book he could use to call her friend, Ophelia. He needed someone he could trust to help him find her. He had his suspicions as to what happened, but he had no proof. That was, until he walked into her kitchen and spotted the note on the dining room table. He picked it up with trembling fingers. The words nearly made his heart stop.
Aden,
I know you were optimistic about us, but in light of my new awakening, I find that I cannot love you. I would tell you it isn’t you, but I would be lying. I am a werewolf princess, a member of power in my pack, and it’s time I accept that. Don’t come looking for me, or I’ll be forced to direct the pack to kill you. Your kind is an unnatural enemy, a plague on the same humanity we have sworn to protect. You’re alive now out of sentiment. There will not be a second chance.
Goodbye.
Dark clouds filled his mind. No wonder she wouldn’t tell him she loved him. It was obvious now that she never had, and he’d spent all that time reading into a feeling that didn’t exist. Too bad they did for me. An anguished cry ripping from his throat, Aden’s fist crumpled the paper into a ball, which he threw down on the table. He waged an internal war over an urge he hadn’t had in a very long time—to drink – something he hadn’t even thought of attempting since the night of his accident.
If it was possible for a vampire to get drunk, that was exactly what he wanted to do. For the second time in his long existence, a woman had taken him for a fool—the only difference was that Carissa hadn’t changed his life—oh no, but she had changed his heart, and somehow that was worse.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Scowling, Aden walked outside and stepped onto Carissa’s porch. He was halfway to the Durango when he saw Daniel walking down the other side of the street toward his house. Cursing, he met his mentor in front of his porch. Daniel’s face was red, his forehead scrunched up. His hands fidgeted where he had them looped into his belt loops. He was obviously worried about something.
Aden smoothed his features before addressing the older vampire. “What’s up, Daniel?”
His mentor pinned him with a suspicious look and pointed to Carissa’s house. “What were you doing over there?”
His tone was smoother than his actions and expression, and the inconsistency put Aden’s guard up. “I’m friends with the woman that lives there.”
“Then I suppose you already know she isn’t home?”
Warning bells were ringing in his ears. “And exactly how would you know that?” Aden asked.
Instead of answering the question, Daniel responded, “The Crimson Bayou Pack Master is her father. Trust me; she’s the last woman on Earth you want to dally with.”
Aden tried hard not to let the shock register on his face. A few weeks ago, Daniel said he didn’t know who Carissa was. Something about his mentor was way off-kilter, but with his heart in tatters, Aden wondered if it was even worth the brain space to worry about.
He let out a sigh as he changed the subject, “What were you coming over to talk about?”
Daniel
walked up the steps and into Aden’s house before responding. “I was wondering if you found out anything else about the slayers.”
“No, nothing yet,” Aden lied.
“Well, I need you to get on that. I need as much information as you can get me.”
“I’ll do what I can, Daniel, but I’m limited by what can be found on the internet if you won’t let me leave Jaune. I think leaving might be my best option—go someplace new, where the werewolves and slayers don’t know who I am.” And get away from Carissa’s memory.
Daniel laid his hand on Aden’s shoulder, his touch cold and impersonal, with his hand shaking slightly. “It’s still safer for you to stay here. In fact, I would highly recommend not leaving your house at all. The werewolves won’t take kindly to your trespassing, and they own most of the land around here.”
He didn’t give Aden an opportunity to respond before he walked out of the house. It was apparent Daniel believed the younger vampire would follow his orders to the letter—that only proved he didn’t know his young protégé as well as he thought he did. Aden stretched out his senses, monitoring until the older man made it to the town border. Then, before he could talk himself out of the decision, opened his garage and cranked the ’56 Ford pickup he so rarely decided to drive.
An hour later and twenty-five dollars poorer, Aden swirled his finger in his drink. Dare I go through with it? It had been, roughly, 27,396 days, 22 hours, 30 minutes, and 24 seconds since his last taste of alcohol. The scent of good Irish whiskey tempted his taste buds. He could recall his last drink almost perfectly – on the night of his accident – but he longed for another. As a vampire, it wouldn’t kill him, but Daniel had warned him of his sensitive stomach after he’d been changed.
Aden eyed the amber liquid, his lips pursed as he considered. There was only one way to find out. Eyes narrowed, he took a cautious sip. It burned deliciously as it coated his throat, but settled in his stomach with ease. Surprised, he took another drink. When it, too, settled, he laughed outright. And Daniel said nothing would surprise him after the first fifty years. Ha!
With a wry grin, Aden finished off his glass, grabbed the bottle, and settled in to get rip-roaring drunk—this time without driving while doing so. After finding Carissa’s note, he had nothing to look forward to—she’d crushed all his future plans with the acidic stroke of a pen on paper. He grinned to himself as he reached for the bottle again. Two glasses down, and he felt fine—pushing the words she’d written to the back of his mind. Women just can’t be trusted, and what did I expect? I was changed by a woman!
He lifted his hand to take another drink, cursing when naught but a few drops landed on his tongue. He peered down at his empty glass. Where’d the whiskey go? With a shrug, he refilled his glass, his thoughts returning to Carissa’s note – first his father’s, and now hers. Bastard. Not mine. I can never love you. You’re alive now out of sentiment. There won’t be a second chance—Not only did Carissa not love him, but she ultimately wanted him dead—which was all anyone wanted from him anymore. Aden glowered down at his drink. It was freaking empty again. He inspected the bottom of the glass—maybe it had a hole and his alcohol was draining before he could drink it…
Aden snorted. There was no hole. He refilled his glass and toasted the half-empty bottle.
“Ta sneaky lil’ women,” he slurred, his hand shaking as he took another sip.
He eyed his glass through fuzzy vision. Who the hell keeps taking my whisky? His door slammed open, and his glass slipped from his fingers to break on the hardwood floor. He turned his bleary gaze on Carissa’s grandmother, and gestured to the bottle.
“Why didn’tcha tell me I could drink weesky?” his eyes narrowed as he tried to stand, but fell over onto his side. He glared up at his friend, suddenly so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. “Have you been drinkin’ it instead of me? My glass’s always empty.” He tried to gesture to the floor, but he couldn’t move his arms.
“Sh’ lef’ me,” he muttered, “Sh’ din’ wan’ me.”
Eleanor loomed over him—both heads shaking in denial. “That’s not true, Aden.”
He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “Wha’?”
Eleanor chuckled, pulling a pillow from the recliner and sliding it under his head. “Sleep, and I’ll tell you when you’re sober.”
Aden closed his eyes. “Mmkay.” Then, after a moment he whispered, “El’nor—don’ trust tha glass. It drinks tha weesky first…”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Carissa woke, blinded by the sun, and with a raging headache. She pressed her hand to her forehead and sat up, studying her surroundings through bleary eyes. The room was large, with pure white walls, sunny yellow curtains, and a soft, fluffy snow-white carpet. The bed she was on sported a comforter in the same sunny yellow, and stark white sheets. There was a large wardrobe against one wall, and the door across from her stood open. It didn’t look like she was a complete prisoner, but given the choice, she’d much rather be home. Gingerly, Carissa gained her feet and padded barefoot toward the opening, but her sister entered with a tray of food before she could make it halfway across the room. The look on Gwen’s face was kind, but Carissa was too upset to look her in the eye. She couldn’t forget whose side her sister was on—especially not after what happened at the park.
Her sister’s shrill voice interrupted her thoughts, “Rissa! You shouldn’t be out of bed! The serum leaves you with a nasty hangover. It’s best to relax until it wears off.” She smiled. “I brought you some pancakes.”
Reluctantly, Carissa returned to the bed. She might as well be a prisoner after all. Her sister sat the tray over her legs when she situated herself, but Carissa didn’t speak, and she refused to touch the food.
Gwen laughed. “I didn’t poison it, silly!”
When Carissa remained silent, her sister frowned. “You’re not really upset at being here, are you? You can’t truly embrace the wolf in the middle of town, you know.” Carissa glared up at her, but still said nothing.
Gwen sighed and walked away from the bed, stopping when she reached the door. She turned, pinning her sister with a worried look. “You’re not a prisoner, Rissa. We’re only here to help.” She sighed. “You need to eat and keep up your strength. The change and the ceremony will take a lot out of you.”
She frowned again as she gave her sister one last look. “I’ll send Daddy to talk to you in a bit. Maybe that will ease your mind a little.”
When her sister finally left, Carissa moved the tray and pulled her knees up to her chest. She rested her head on her arms and let the tears fall. So what if she’d largely come to terms with being a werewolf during the last couple of weeks? Being in this place wasn’t going to be a picnic.
Carissa sniffled and eyed the plate of food. Her sister was probably telling the truth. Drugging her now wouldn’t do them any good—she was already captured. Pain stabbed through her temple, and she decided to take the risk, with the hope that it would ease the hangover effects of the drug from the night before. Damn. Who would have thought shy Tommy, the were-bobcat, was working with the werewolves?
Warily, Carissa ate everything on her plate before drinking the juice Gwen brought with it. It did what she hoped and lowered the pain to a manageable level. She pushed the tray away again and stretched. She wanted to take a shower, per her usual morning routine, but she didn’t trust wherever they had her. Gwen said she wasn’t a prisoner, yet her sister didn’t tell her where they were. She figured the home was most likely their father’s, which was absolutely no help at all.
Wiping her eyes to clear the tears beginning to gather again, Carissa stood up and went to the window. The view consisted of a second-story picture of cypress trees and water. She hadn’t actually expected to find herself looking at a yard in her neighborhood, but it was still a disappointment. Placing the palms of her hands against the windowsill, she rested her forehead against the warm glass. She’d been such an idiot with Aden, not telling him how she
really felt. How could I have been so stupid as to leave him thinking I didn’t return his love? She could all but feel his arms around her, and even though they were so different, he was the only person she knew she could trust.
If only he could see where she was…
Carissa closed her eyes and wished for him with all her heart. Her vampire romance novels said there was a connection between a vampire and the person he bit—something to do with the blood they ingested—and with nothing else to hope for, she prayed fervently that fiction had it right. She heaved an exasperated sigh when she heard heavy, halting footsteps behind her. Their awkward gait was unfamiliar, but there was no doubt in her mind to whom they belonged.
She waited until the footsteps stopped before she acknowledged her father. “Hello, Garrett.”
Carissa turned around then, and faced the man standing in the middle of the room. He was a little over six feet tall, with wavy red hair and twinkling blue eyes—the perfect grandfatherly type, if he hadn’t been such an asshole. His smile attempted friendliness, but the slanted curve didn’t match his eyes, which were hard and flat. Uncaring. If she hadn’t already been told, she would have known he was the werewolf that bit her. The bite on her wrist tingled in his presence, like a live wire just under her skin. She rubbed absently at her wrist, but the feeling didn’t go away.
His voice was gruff when he spoke, almost as if he didn’t speak very often. “I know how you feel, Carissa. I—”
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