Honorable Rogue

by Linda J. Parisi

  “All right,” Tori replied. “You want to call that thing that attacked me a rogue, go ahead. But it’s dead. Which means I have no worries.”

  She watched with disbelief as Sam’s features turn grave. “Again, I understand all of this is a bit much to comprehend. But I assure you, the danger is real. Two other vampires who we suspect are about to go rogue have your scent. When they turn, they’ll come back for your blood. Their last meal.”

  Vampires, Sinsir, and rogues. Oh my!

  “You do realize how this sounds, don’t you?” Sam didn’t answer. But she’d heard and stood there, trying to be patient. “Okay. Fine. You’ve made your point. But I can’t simply drop everything,” Tori replied. “I have a life. I have my work. People counting on me.”

  “I understand completely. However, arrangements can be made.” Tori stared. “Arrangements can always be made.”

  Really. “And if I don’t want arrangements to be made?”

  “A decision of this nature would be unwise.” She watched Sam sigh. The vampire queen cocked her head as if listening, then stepped back. “I must go. I’m needed elsewhere. Finish your breakfast, and I’ll ask Mercedes to bring you down to the lab. Perhaps I can convince you to at least take a…let’s call it an emergency vacation.”

  Tori had no intention of upending her life simply because they said she was in danger. “Go and do what you have to. Just understand I’ll do the same,” she told Sam.

  “Understood.”

  She smiled. But researching their biology? Now there was a tantalizing thought. “I still have a ton of questions to ask.” Especially of Hunter.

  “By all means.” Sam relaxed and winked. “And no, Hunter won’t be there. Maybe later.”

  Tori laughed. “I’m really going to have to learn how to stop thinking, aren’t I?”

  “Yes,” Sam laughed. “You are.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hunter watched Tori lope toward him. She had the rolling gait of a cheetah, long legs that ate up ground. That ate him up.

  Focus!

  Turned out focusing would be hard. No, extremely hard. He’d allowed her some freedom and exercise to explore the grounds and watched her walk through the extensive gardens. Hunter wasn’t used to beauty, dismissed external splendor as an extravagance he couldn’t afford. Now he wondered. Perhaps the time had come to simply enjoy what had been placed in front of him.

  Dr. Victoria Roberts had no idea how beautiful she was. Hunter had seen enough women throughout his existence on this earth to know. And while external beauty was always pleasing, her inner strength and fortitude attracted him to no end.

  Hunter shook his head, surprised with himself for sending Mercy away. His attraction to Tori made her dangerous, incredibly dangerous.

  While giving her some time to digest who and what he was, he realized another danger. The gardens might’ve been meaningless, but she was not, and her importance concerned him. Humans and vampires were, at best, a bad blend. Although Charles and Stacy were together, they were an anomaly, the exception to the rule. But a human placed right in the middle of a personal vampire dispute? Dispute, he snorted to himself. All-out war was more like it. Either he or Casperian was bound to end up dead by the other’s hand. Damn! All of this was his fault. He’d put Tori in this danger and could find no way to get her out.

  “Apologies. Mercy had business elsewhere, and I wanted to explain there was no insult meant when you woke up.”

  The muscles in her cheek tightened. He could see a tiny vibration below the corner of her eye. “You could’ve thrown some of my things in a bag.”

  “I didn’t think of it. Your safety was uppermost in my mind.”

  “Really,” she drawled. “And you couldn’t have borrowed something from Mercy? Or Sam?”

  “Again, I didn’t think of it. I’m sorry.” Hunter paused, a hint of trepidation mixed with guilt in his gut. “You asked me for the truth, so I shall give it to you. I wanted to admire your beauty as you slept. Nothing more.”

  “Some people might call that perverted.”

  “Is art perverted, then?”

  She didn’t answer, and Hunter escorted her downstairs. He watched awe fill her face as she glanced around the laboratory, her previous ire forgotten. “Whoa. This is some place.”

  “We can make it better. What would you suggest?”

  She didn’t even hesitate. “A chemistry analyzer. Preferably one that can also run immunoassays. A hematology analyzer for cell counts. An electrophoresis system for protein determination. Coag analyzer. Microplate readers, washers, and scanners. A really, really good microscope. Like molecular. Benchtop centrifuges.”

  Had she said this to shake him? “It can be arranged.”

  Her eyes widened. “Sam kinda said the same thing. You do realize how expensive this is going to be, don’t you?”

  “Resources aren’t a problem.” Her brow raised. “We have certain artifacts saved over time that are worth a great deal.” Hunter decided not to elaborate. Certain aspects of vampire existence didn’t really need to be explained further.

  “Imagine what you could do at a high stakes poker game,” she murmured. “You’d know everyone’s hand in advance.”

  “Using my abilities would be cheating,” he replied. But Hunter already knew he wasn’t above such an act. Survival was and always would be the name of the game. But now was not the time to delve into this topic. He brought the subject of their conversation back where it belonged. “You’ve made me curious. Why didn’t Stacy ask for these things?”

  She laughed softly. “Although Stacy was blood banker, she’s a forensic chemist now. I’m a clinical pathologist. She deals more with investigating outside the body, so she went for the mass spec and the chromatograph. I investigate inside the body. I went for the analyzers.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Are you going to kidnap me?” she asked. Was she trying to catch him off guard?

  Was she thinking she could? “I can still hear your thoughts,” he answered, explaining how futile that possibility really was.

  “Yeah. I know. Doesn’t make me very happy either,” she bit out.

  “Apologies,” he added sincerely. She bowed her head, acknowledging he couldn’t help it.

  “The one rule we prize above all others is free will. There aren’t any chains on any doors.” Hunter reached into his pocket and gave her cell phone back. He’d even charged it for her. “You’re free to leave.”

  Surprise filled her face. She stared at him hard, as if trying to read his mind. “You’ll be harder to guard in this way. But make no mistake, I will guard you. The person responsible for the first attack is trying to get at me through you. You’re a target he’d like nothing better than to use.”

  Venatorius.

  Even now his voice echoed in his mind, causing a slight shudder.

  “Person?”

  Her tone stung. And helped him collect his thoughts. “A long-standing disagreement,” Hunter answered, deciding to continue as if she hadn’t asked.

  Yet the past wouldn’t leave him be. It would never leave him be. And so once again, the past invaded is his mind.

  “Where have you been, Venatorius? I sent for you hours ago.”

  Had he cared, he would have said his master’s voice irked him to no end, high-pitched, petulant, and demanding as it was. “I have been training, my lord. Was it not your wish for me to win the games tomorrow?”

  “Indeed. However, I required your attendance.”

  He bowed. “I came as soon as your summons arrived.” Not exactly true. He’d taken his time on purpose. Because it was one thing he could do. “I am here now.”

  “Are you, Venatorius? Are you?”

  You will never know. For that is my weapon against you. “I am your slave, Dominus,” came his bland reply.

  He put just enough puzzlement into his tone to make sure his master believed him. He knew he’d succeeded when his master sighed. A servant brought a vase fi
lled with oil and scented water. His master dipped his hands in the water first, dried them off, and then poured the oil into his palm. His master’s hand, the hand covered in oil, caressed his biceps. Venatorius sought refuge in a place no one could reach him. When he found it, the hand meant no more to him than the wind or the sun.

  “What do you think of, I wonder? I have performed this ritual with you every day since I purchased you.”

  His master’s hand caressed his chest, rolling over his huge muscles, fingers splayed to cover as much of his skin as possible. He knew what his master craved and refused to give in. “You retreat when I touch you. Why?”

  “Retreat, lord?” A vast expanse of emptiness spread out before his psyche. He didn’t retreat, would never retreat. As a gladiator, he was expected to fight and live, or fight and die. The word retreat was as foreign to him as the word freedom. “I stand here before you exactly as you require.”

  His master used two hands to work over his skin. They kneaded the aches out of his tired muscles. He supposed he should be grateful.

  Grateful. For being allowed to live.

  He preferred the silence and allowed his master to work on his body without thought. “Do you dislike my touch?”

  “I do not think about it.”

  His master snorted. “You wound with the subtlety of an elephant, Venatorius.”

  “Wound, lord? Again, I do not understand. I am a slave. I am not allowed to like or dislike.”

  The hand caressing his chest now worked lower over his abdomen. “Every day. Every day.” And lower. His master’s fingers cupped his balls, massaging gently. “You never respond.” The words were almost an accusation. “Where do you go?” his master asked again. “Where do you hide?”

  Where you can’t find me.

  Hunter returned to the present, bitterness filling his mouth. There was something very wrong with the thought of being grateful to be alive. And when he’d protested the constant killing? No reason to be grateful for the punishment that should have killed him.

  “A disagreement I’d prefer you not be involved in,” he told Tori, trying to keep his resentment out of his tone. “This isn’t your fault. But neither of us has a choice. Either we do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “For you, you mean.”

  He smiled. But his gut had already begun a slow burn. She still refused to see the magnitude of his predicament. And hers. “Of course.”

  His smile faded, anger burning deep. “Perhaps you could arrange to take a small amount of time off?” he asked Tori. “Surely you’d like to perform some of your experiments on us? After all, not only are we not human, we’re not even animals, are we? Another kind of lab rat, right?”

  Her eyes widened. “Damn you! Get out of my head!”

  How was she able to get under his skin? Where was the cold indifference he managed so well? “I wish I could. Believe me.”

  “Look. I’m sorry,” she apologized, seeming sincere. “What I was thinking wasn’t nice. And I don’t normally go out of my way to be nasty. But you haven’t exactly been all warm and fuzzy with me either. Let’s call a truce.”

  “What kind of truce?” he asked, more suspicion in his tone than he wanted.

  “You’re right. I would like to investigate. Your…race…offers an unprecedented opportunity to study a different type of biology.” Her chin lifted, her next words filled with righteous pride. “But you need to come down off your perch too. Just because I’m human doesn’t make me lower than the dirt you walk on either.”

  “Agreed,” he retorted, knowing deep inside she was right. “You’ll have to forgive my prejudice, I’m afraid. You see, when I was human, I was exactly that.”

  “Exactly what?” she asked, confused.

  “Lower than the dirt you walk on,” he replied using her exact phraseology.

  Hunter couldn’t believe he was telling her this. Only Sam and Charles knew. “I’m nearly two thousand years old, Tori. And when I was human, I was a gladiator and a slave.”

  Chapter Eight

  Was it true? Two thousand years old? A gladiator and a slave?

  If so, Hunter would be fiercely protective of the right to be free.

  Tori couldn’t help wondering as they crawled along with Saturday-afternoon shore traffic going down the parkway. July weather in September brought out the beachgoers trying to bolster the last of their summer tans. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel in frustration. Tori hated traffic.

  She glanced over for about the ninetieth time. Hunter had given her a car, a very tripped-out luxury car. With one caveat. He had to come along for the ride.

  Shaking her head, Tori wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Why had she agreed to this madness? Because of one thing and one thing only. The vulnerability in his gaze as he’d told her what he’d been. Which, for the record, she still wasn’t quite sure she believed.

  Vampire. Gladiator. Self-appointed protector. Lover?

  He shifted in his seat. In repose he looked younger, softer, and more approachable. And he probably knew every thought flying around inside her head. So she turned on the radio, low, and, without even realizing as they inched along, began to sing.

  “You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured.

  Startled, Tori threw him a look. His eyes were closed and face seemed content. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was. Your singing woke me.”

  “That bad, huh?” she asked.

  “On the contrary. I haven’t heard such a pure sound in a very long time.” He settled in his seat. “Why do you hide something so beautiful?”

  About to deny, Tori answered with the truth instead. “Stage fright. I guess I’m afraid people will judge me. That’s the one thing you can always count on from the dead. They don’t judge.” She bit her lip, a hint of the devil riding her. “Present company excluded.”

  She looked over to catch his mouth quirk. Yet his eyes didn’t open. “I promise not to judge, then. Would you continue?” He paused. As if he didn’t make requests of others very often. “Would you sing some more for me? Please?”

  A man like Hunter commanded. He didn’t ask. Softly at first, she sang. Then with more gusto until she finished by belting out the last verse. He clapped gently when she was done. “Thank you.”

  Not sure how she felt about what she’d done, she murmured, “You’re welcome.”

  How long had it been before she’d been able to warble even a note? Music came from the heart, but she’d lost hers a long time ago. She was told time healed all wounds. Not exactly.

  “Are you all right? I sense a terrible sadness in you. As I did the night of the wedding.”

  Both hands clenched the steering wheel. She thought of a spring day and an empty field to stem the rise of her emotions. If she shouted out her feelings, she wasn’t going to let him hear these particular thoughts. Her past was none of Hunter’s business.

  “I’m fine,” she answered, loosening her fingers from around the plastic. Driving helped, as she had to concentrate on the road now that the traffic was moving faster.

  They continued until Tori was finally able to get off the parkway. She drove down a main artery and pulled into the hospital parking lot for staff only. “Do me a favor, please? Stay in the car. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  “No, I won’t be hard to explain,” he protested, reading her thoughts again.

  Tori rolled her eyes. But she was glad he hadn’t yet seen the hurt she kept buried deep inside. “Okay, you won’t. But I’ll never hear the end of it, and you might not get out unscathed. I work with a lot of single women.”

  She watched him shudder at her words and wondered if he could see the picture she created in her mind. A smile grew on his face. “No need for the picture, I assure you. I promise not to move.”

  Tori got out of the car, walked into the school for medical laboratory science where she taught a couple of classes and helped direct the clinical chemistry department. She walked i
n to find her boss in his office. “Frank. You’re still here.”

  Frank looked up, obviously wondering why she was there on a Saturday afternoon. “In the flesh.”

  Tori bit her lip. What was it, lately, with everything everyone said ending up like a vampire joke? “I have to ask for a favor.”

  Her boss frowned, leaning back in his chair, the springs creaking badly—like most of their equipment, held together with spit and rubber bands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  Pale? Flesh? Ugh!

  Tori shook her head to get the vampire humor out of her head. She let go of a deep breath, wondering how good an actress she could be, although the pain of it never left her. Ever. “I hired a private detective.” While this was true, the rest would be a lie. She lied, hating to do so, but there was no other way Frank would let her go. “I got a call from him last night. He’s up in Minnesota.” Minnesota was far enough away not to warrant being followed. “He has a lead on one of the perps.”

  “Bastards,” Frank muttered, bringing her to the present with a jolt. “Freaking goddamned bastards.” He grimaced. “At least one of them paid the price.”

  How could she answer? That she was glad one had been a drug addict and had OD’d shortly after he’d murdered her family? She wasn’t anymore. She just wanted the pain to stop. “Yes.”

  “God, Tori.” Frank’s gaze hurt with her.

  Tori did what she did best. She stopped breaking. She denied the emptiness. She surrounded the hole inside with a wall so it wouldn’t destroy her. She shared the moment all over again with her boss.

  “I’m so sorry,” Frank continued. “It must be hell having all of this dredged up every time someone thinks they’ve found something.”

  Hell? Frank would never understand. You had to lose a child, a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed pixie to understand.

  “For the record,” he continued, “I remember every second of that flight.”

  Tori swallowed hard. She pictured a single brick. Then another. And another, slapping mortar in between until she could breathe again.