Honorable Rogue

by Linda J. Parisi

  Doctor that she was, Tori couldn’t help the thoughts flying through her brain. Had there at least been a condom involved? She strained to remember. The pictures ended up even more muddled. Would she have to get tested for STDs? She opened the door of her car and stepped out, stopping herself just in time before she slammed the damned thing closed and woke up the entire complex.

  No matter how foolish her actions, Tori was extremely grateful that at least she’d made it home in one piece. As she stood there, trying not to sway, she thought back to the wedding, and warmth crept back into her heart. She banished the nonsense with the picture of Stacy and Chaz saying their vows inside the gazebo, her heart filling as she’d watched her best friend get married. Feeling something so warm could never be wrong, so she’d just have to deal with the aftermath of her own recklessness.

  Thick ocean air spread like a blanket over her, and she forced herself to focus. She closed the car door and breathed in the warm, sultry late-September night. She walked toward her town house, releasing the air in a heartfelt sigh. With the soft ocean breeze caressing her skin and the slight echo of the waves beating against the shore, Tori realized this was the kind of night to fill the void of hurt that could never be filled. Between the beauty of the night and the need she’d denied until it had exploded in her face, somewhere inside the hangover that didn’t hurt, inside the satisfaction of release, somewhere lurking in the back of her mind, there’d been a man, a linebacker. No, a soldier with short, dark hair and clear, gray eyes that saw right through her. They’d turned smoky with heat, and he’d made the pain inside go away.

  She continued walking toward her townhouse, and the pictures started to come into focus. Tall with massive shoulders, he seemed to want to protect her. Tori slowed, her footsteps faltering. Son of a gun. He was in security. He owned the business Chaz worked for. Hunter. And when she’d asked who he really was, he’d told her he was a vampire. Can you imagine? Of all the things to say, he’d given her the best pickup line she’d ever heard. A vampire.

  Tori picked up her pace again and continued through the parking lot, smiling in bemused disbelief. Vampires and sex all in one night, just like in one of those B horror movies. Who’d have thought?

  Suddenly, Tori froze.

  “Run!”

  She couldn’t. She kept telling her feet to move, and they refused to obey. Someone tried to tackle her, but she ducked. Her next breath made her gag. What the hell?

  Tori stared as the man who’d tried to tackle her attacked another man in the parking lot.

  “RUN!”

  Wait a minute. She knew his voice. The man from the wedding. Hunter.

  As if his name was a magic word, she unlocked, turned, and sprinted towards her townhouse. She could hear her heart pound in her ears, her lungs pistoning for all they were worth.

  She reached the steps and her front door, and then she heard a scream. Not a scream for help, not a wail of agony, a screech as if someone was being thwarted, denied their very existence.

  Tori turned. A man lay on the ground.

  Without thought, Tori ran back to help, choking on the foul air. She found Hunter lying there, his gaze full of accusation.

  “I thought I told you to run.”

  Chapter Three

  Venatorius.

  A name Hunter had not heard in nearly two thousand years.

  Venatorius.

  His skin rippled under the whisper of death, the nerve endings beneath bowing under the weight of remembered pain.

  I own you.

  A debt long since repaid yet still seeking that last tiny piece of his soul.

  Do you remember?

  A different time and place seeped into his bones, an older time, a time when life had been worth less than a few coins, a place filled only with death. Phantom fire had filled his back. Blood had seeped from the marks of the lash. A buyer for his body had made no effort to hide his lust. The scene shifted, and the weight of leather and steel had felt at home upon his body, the haft of his sword a familiar friend to his hand. The sand of the arena had spread beneath his sandals as he’d twisted and turned, the clash of steel upon steel ringing in his ears.

  Hunter Pierce shook his head to dispel the images and sat up. The scent of the dying filled his nostrils, leaving behind an old and bitter taste. Or were those just his thoughts?

  He rose to his feet and found Tori backing up and away from him, horror filling her gaze. Looking down, he found his shirt covered in blood. He lifted the cloth and found the gash already healed.

  “No. That’s impossible. No one can heal that kind of cut that fast.”

  She practically stumbled in her haste to get away. Then she straightened. And he knew she was about to faint.

  Faster than the human eye could see, he sprinted over to the doctor, catching her just in time. He lifted her legs off the pavement, and her head lolled against his arm, exposing her long, tanned neck.

  There was only one winner in this game, no matter the past, and could only ever be one winner. Blood.

  “Sir?”

  His best lieutenant ran to him, gulping in deep breaths of air as she halted by his side. Her short, modern haircut seemed at odds with the wicked knife in her hand. As did the tiny diamond-stud earrings in her earlobes. Her heart hammered in his ears. Her concern for his well-being was appreciated but misplaced. Still, he softened as he settled the doctor deeper in his arms.

  Looking down he said, “I’m fine, Mercedes. Unharmed. So is she.” His gaze shifted off into the distance. “Did you find it?” Mercy nodded. “You cut off the head? Set the fire?” Mercy’s shoulders slumped a little, but she nodded again. “These vampires were newly made, and their bones may not burn completely, so make sure to bury any that might be left, and then scatter the ashes. Have your men follow the other two vampires who were with this one. They haven’t turned rogue yet. I fear they will soon. Once you’re finished, report back to me. Number forty-six.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stared at her hard to make sure she knew she’d disobeyed orders. “You shouldn’t have followed me. I left you in charge of the mansion.”

  She stared back at him without remorse. “The lady Samira gave me leave to follow.”

  Hunter nodded and lifted the woman in his arms high up into his chest. In his mind he could see her gaze just before she’d fainted, dark, almost accusatory, letting too much in and nothing out.

  What a combination. So smart and yet so cautious, she’d proven so very brave. No one could have been more surprised when she’d run to help Miklos in spite of Rolf’s treatment. He blew out a deep breath. She’d run back to help him too.

  Beauty. Daring. Courage. Such a lethal combination.

  How lucky for her they’d been able to destroy the rogue—unlucky for him. For now, she’d become a part of this mess whether she wanted to or not. His fault for starting the game to begin with. He should never have listened to Sam. He should never have given in.

  Red-gold strands glittered in her auburn hair as it fell over his arm. She weighed more than he’d expected, yet her tall, willowy frame suited her. Statuesque. But with curves in all the right places.

  His gaze followed the long line of her chin, the high cheekbone, the nose perfectly placed. Not a blemish or a mark. How incredible.

  Hunter shook his head. He’d had no business admiring her beauty at the wedding, nor what had come after. He should never have satisfied his hunger with her. Not under these circumstances, not while rogue vampires threatened anyone and Miklos threatened everyone connected to him.

  And now, hearing a voice he thought long dead? Dredging up the past, especially making it public? Unease draped across his shoulders like a well-worn blanket. His past was no one else’s business but his own. Hunter frowned. Seemed as though he’d have no choice but to let his history become public knowledge now. The voice inside his head was not his imagination. Therefore, he could only believe that the attack was part of a long-standing vendetta.


  Her head lifted. “You can put me down now.”

  So deep was he in his thoughts, Hunter started and nearly dropped her.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. “I can walk,” she added.

  As deep and as dark as they’d been before, now her eyes were soft like melted caramel and chocolate. He wanted to sink inside their warmth. But her gaze carried too many questions he couldn’t answer.

  “Are you certain?”

  She nodded, so Hunter stopped walking and let go of her legs. She slid down his body, awakening fiercely controlled emotions. She must’ve felt them too, for her eyes widened. Then they narrowed. Her gaze flared, then slipped into sultry. And her thoughts? Too loud and too enticing, to be sure.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.” She leaned back, tilting her head up to his. He stared at the pulse fluttering beneath her skin. He swallowed hard. A fierce battle raged inside, a battle he’d come to hate. Lips or neck. Lips or neck.

  “I know you.”

  “Hunter Pierce.”

  She rubbed at her temple with her fingers. “The wedding,” she whispered and digested the information with an innocent curiosity that tugged at his insides. “You told me you were a vampire. I laughed.”

  Hunter certainly wasn’t laughing now. He looked around. Although late, a car could drive by. So could the police. He didn’t like standing out in the open. “Yes.”

  “You were attacked. So much blood. Yet you healed. How is that possible?”

  So many years of hiding. So many years alone. So much better for both of them to stay this way.

  “Such a foul odor,” she continued. “What kind of man smells like that? Even corpses don’t smell that bad.”

  The mist swirled in the lamplight, creating a natural cover—but would never cover up tonight’s mess. “Not a man,” he answered. “This is all very hard to explain. It would be easier to do so inside your house.”

  She paused and cocked her head, her hands resting on her hips. “Who says I’m inviting you in?”

  Taken aback, Hunter paused a moment. Then he responded with honesty. “It would be safer if you did.”

  She didn’t reply. But her body did, leaning in whisper close. “Maybe. Maybe not.” She paused as if something occurred to her. “What did you do to me?”

  Do to you? The scent you’re giving off right now is begging me to repeat our last meeting. “Nothing. We met at the wedding. I’d gone out onto the patio for some air. You were standing on the grass. We talked.”

  She frowned. “I don’t remember you. And yet I do. I was looking at the lights.”

  “Dr. Roberts,” Hunter insisted. The last thing he wanted was for this evening to blow up into a circus. Mercy’s men might circle back, and his lieutenant was certainly close enough to catch some of this discussion. “Tori, please. Can we at least continue this conversation inside?”

  She nodded, turned, and began walking. Hunter followed her down the sidewalk and up the steps to her townhouse. Admiring her gait from behind, he remembered. Voluptuous. Large, ripe breasts falling into his waiting palms. Her soft moans and her slick core. Swallowing her screams, then the taste of her blood. So rich and vibrant, and so full of life.

  That tiny, hidden piece of him wanted to know more about her, drawn to her along with her blood. But he’d given her the Lethe as Miklos instructed so she wouldn’t remember him. Because he had to. As a rule, Hunter stayed away from humans. Tori had been a rare indulgence. One he now regretted—really regretted. Because she was no longer enthralled and was way too smart to let him try again.

  She opened the front door. For a moment he feared she’d close the damned thing in his face. He wondered if it wouldn’t be better that way.

  Instead, she waved him inside and shut the door. She followed, her thoughts chaotic, tumbling one on top of another, and her emotions following so close he couldn’t separate them in his head.

  “All right, Mr. Pierce. We’re here. I’m safe, I think. And you’re alive. I think. So, start talking. You told me you were in security. Who are you really? And for the love of God, why was that man trying to kill you?”

  “Not a man. A very powerful and very, very dangerous creature. A rogue vampire.”

  She’d crossed her arms over her chest in consternation or disbelief—he wasn’t sure. He watched as they unfurled slowly. “Creature? Really? He looked…” Her voice trailed off, and Hunter heard the words inside her head. She’d been about to say human. But humans couldn’t decay like in such a manner and live. And humans couldn’t make a gash so deep heal that fast. “What did you call it? A rogue vampire? What does that make you?”

  Very well. She wanted direct. So be it. “I’m a friend. I’ve known Charles for about eight hundred years.”

  “Eight hundred. Right.”

  He ignored the sarcasm. “The creature was a rogue. A killing machine. A vampire ready to drain every human it can.” Her lips parted, and the corner of her mouth lifted. There it was, that familiar human reaction of disbelief, the huff of disdain. “And me? I’m your normal, everyday…” Hunter couldn’t resist pausing for emphasis, “vampire.”

  She burst out laughing. “You said that before.”

  Hunter frowned, and his brows drew together. Was she mocking him? “I assure you,” he continued. “There’s very little humor in this situation.”

  “Right.”

  Her laughter continued to bubble, making him angry. He stiffened. “I do not lie.”

  “Really? You say you’ve known Charles for around eight hundred years. Well, I’m a doctor and I happen to know that’s physically impossible. You really need to stop playing with me.”

  He paused wondering if he dared answer. “I’m not playing with you, Tori. Nor am I really alive.”

  She burst out laughing again. Suddenly she stilled as if something occurred to her. “The grounds at the hotel. The wedding. We sat on a stone bench. The night. So crisp and cool, a perfect autumn night.” Her voice trailed off, but her thoughts pounded at him. My car. The front seat. Fire filling your cool, gray gaze. Need filling my belly. Your arms drawing me close.

  “That’s impossible,” she whispered.

  His mouth quirked despite himself. What he thought was forbidden, but deep inside Hunter knew he wanted every moment of those forbidden thoughts. “What is?” he asked.

  “I woke up here, in the parking lot.” Without conscious thought, her fingers traced her lips. “My car.”

  He shrugged. Time to take back command of himself. “Too many humans. I was thirsty.”

  She stilled and winced, her hand clasping her upper arm. She pulled her fingers away and saw they were coated red. As she lifted her arm up to look, he saw tiny scrapes on her skin. She walked into her kitchen and washed off the blood. His mouth watered as his gaze followed each and every thread snaking down her drain. Her body slumped, and he watched as she leaned her forehead against a cabinet above the sink. A desire to protect her filled him as he watched her massage her temples once again, a desire that scared him almost as much as the rogue that had attacked them.

  She frowned as she strained to make sense of the night, and he commiserated with her, which scared him even more. “And what was I?”

  There was only one way to end this. He had to sever the connection between them. “Convenient.”

  “Really? Whoa. Okay, I admit it. I was a little drunk, and I was really tired. I remember buying a coffee. We had sex, didn’t we?”

  Without skipping a beat, he replied, “You had an orgasm. I had dinner.”

  All the air rushed out of her lungs. She tried to draw in a breath, but the air locked tight in her throat. She shivered, rubbing her good arm to ward off the chill, and he lifted his gaze to catch hers, turning about as cold as she felt. He had to in order to fight the words and feelings flying at him like swords.

  Oh my! I remember every moment now. The incredible fire. The sensatio
ns racing though my body. The moment of reaching a peak I’ve never, ever reached before. “That was cruel.”

  He dared not show the least bit of remorse. “I’m not known for my tact, Dr. Roberts. The sooner you understand that, the better. You asked for the truth. I gave it.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Bastard.”

  By birth? No, not actually. By deed? Much worse. “Another truth.”

  She pulled down a paper towel and wet it, then patted her arm dry. She repeated the action with a fresh towel, and he saw no more blood. The wounds had been superficial, thank goodness. She threw the used towels into the garbage. Reaching into a drawer, she grabbed some antibiotic ointment and smoothed some on the scratches. Then she turned around. She was angry. Damned angry.

  “I just witnessed someone try to kill you.”

  “Something,” he corrected.

  “He came after me too. We should call the police.”

  Hunter knew her anger was better aimed at him, so he remained unaffected by her ire. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head, daring him to continue.

  He chose not to. Instead he bowed and swept his arm in front of his body, indicating that he wanted her to sit down in the living room. “I told you. Not a ‘he.’ A rogue vampire. And involving the police would be a waste of time.”

  “A waste of time?”

  Hunter lifted a brow. “They won’t find any evidence.”

  “My goodness. What was I thinking? Of course. You can just make bodies disappear.”

  Not happy with being truthful he replied, “In this instance, yes. They burn. Quite easily.”

  She opened her mouth to retort, then closed her lips. A tiny muscle in her cheek twitched. Finally the words blurted out. “Because he was a rogue vampire and you’re just an ordinary one. Gotcha. Fine.”

  She straightened items on her counter, putting a few pieces of silverware into a drawer. The attempt to distract herself was obvious. “There’s only one way to truly prove who you are besides the name I just called you—which, for the record, should be a lot nastier—and I hate to call Stacy on her honeymoon. But Stacy’s the only one who can tell me the truth.” She put her hand into her pocket, ready to pull out her cell.