Diana's Hound: Bloodhounds, Book 4

by Moira Rogers

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Which would you like to offer first?”

  One needn’t be good with women to recognize the correct answer. “I’m sorry. I could list a dozen noble reasons behind my intentions, but my actions have no excuse. I never meant to express doubt in your intelligence, strength or resourcefulness.”

  Her gaze softened a fraction. “I don’t need you to protect me from myself, Nate. In any way.”

  He released the breath he’d been holding. Maybe this second youth would have some benefits. He’d learned enough pretty words during his old age to work wonders, when he could keep himself calm enough to use them. “I don’t have much need to protect you from yourself. It’s protecting you from me and all the other bastards in the world that I’m struggling with.”

  “Which is—” The words cut off, and she held up both hands in surrender. “I don’t want to fight, but I have to make one thing clear. If you don’t trust me, you can’t come with me.”

  He’d find a way to do so if it killed him, because letting her charge into a dangerous situation with a barely grown hound as her only backup could put him in the grave in truth. “I’ll trust in your strength. But in return, I would ask you to trust my experience. I know I don’t look as seasoned as Emmett or even as old as Wilder, but I’m not so many years from sixty, and I’ve spent most of that time considering the best way to fight vampires.”

  She seemed to consider his words, then relented and held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

  Nate curled his fingers around hers, then wondered if they were both liars. Her grip was too intimate, fingertips stroking over his palm like a lover’s caress. He might be lying to himself when he pretended he didn’t want her, but she was lying if she thought she didn’t need to be protected from herself.

  It was a problem they shared.

  Chapter Three

  The coach was too damn small.

  Diana shifted position and murmured an apology when her knee bumped Nate’s—again. Even the relatively short ride from Iron Creek had proven a peculiar sort of torment, with no way to move or turn that didn’t remind her, sometimes bodily, of Nate’s proximity.

  Damn tiny coach. It would drive her mad before they reached Eternity.

  “We should be almost there.” Nate was watching her, eyes wreathed with the wrong sort of sympathy. “I know it must be difficult to travel in close quarters this near to the full moon.”

  If only simmering violence was her sole problem. “The full moon is over a week past. I can control myself.”

  “Of course you can. It must not be comfortable, is all I’m saying.”

  “I know what you meant,” she snapped, then bit her tongue. “Now it’s my turn to deliver an apology. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” This time he shifted, his knee touching hers. “Would you prefer I remain silent? Or shall I try to distract you? If you give me a scientific topic, I can ramble on about it for hours. I’ll likely bore you straight to sleep.”

  There was no telling what erotic dreams might assail her if she fell asleep listening to the low, velvet tones of his voice. But finding his dedication and enthusiasm fascinating could prove even more dangerous. “I don’t think distraction would work right now.”

  “Then maybe you could tell me about Crystal Springs.”

  How could she describe the town that had once been her home? “Would you like me to describe it as it was before the vampire attacks began, as it was during them or as it is now?”

  He seemed to consider that. “Which matters most to you?”

  “They all do, in different ways.” Diana turned slightly on the cushioned seat, just enough to hold his gaze without craning her neck. “Before, it was prison and paradise, all at once. The place where I’d died, but also been reborn.”

  “Did the townsfolk know about your nature?”

  “They did. They accepted me for numerous reasons, but mostly because of Doc.”

  Nate nodded. “A doctor of his skill and training would buy a lot of goodwill in a border town. He was the most brilliant man I’d ever met.”

  And the most brilliant man she’d never met. “I knew him as Thomas Beale, formerly of Baltimore. He never told me about the Guild or his training or his…projects.”

  “I’m not surprised. There are things I’ve done that I hope I never have to explain to Satira.”

  She snorted. “I hardly think that’s the same thing.”

  He didn’t laugh. “You think not?”

  “For your sake, I hope not.” She thought it a struggle to find the words to explain herself, but then they came tumbling out, quick and rough. “He was instrumental in creating the monster that killed my husband, not to mention the monster I became. When I first found out the truth, I told myself it didn’t matter because I was like a daughter to him. But the more I think about it, the less I believe that.”

  “You don’t believe you were like a daughter to him?” Nate watched her unblinking, the force of his stare a hair shy of intimidating. All of his attention was focused entirely on her, and the weight of that unwavering regard was a reminder of how rarely he appeared undistracted. “Or you can’t believe it doesn’t matter?”

  The truth hurt. “Perhaps I was an experiment.”

  Someone else might have rushed to deny it. Nate simply frowned. “Would you like my honest opinion?”

  “I’d be startled if you gave me any other kind.”

  “The journals start the night he saved you. I imagine he’d been experimenting with one thing or another all along. The thrill of invention is more addictive than the bottle. But you mattered. Maybe it was only guilt at first, but every project he worked on was meant to make you safer.”

  It was the rationalization she needed to reconcile the careful, serious old man she’d known with the revelation of his true identity. The perfect words…if only she could believe them. “Tell me why he left the Guild.”

  Nate sighed and looked away. “The final straw. The Guild started making hounds before the formula was complete. The new moon and the full moon—those are side effects that never should have happened. Ephraim wanted to put a stop to it then, but they convinced him the need outweighed the ill. And every time they needed something else, they’d promise him. One more group of hounds, and they’d let him fix the formula.”

  “Only they never did?”

  “It was never their priority. Stronger bloodhounds. Faster. Hardier. Willing and able to withstand torture and pain, go without sleep. They pushed him to push every human boundary, even asked him to take their free will.”

  It made her betrayal and pain seem petty. “I see.”

  “I didn’t.” Nate’s smile was a little crooked. “He left. I stayed. And the Guild made sure we all learned better than to disappear.”

  One question remained unanswered. “Then how did you end up in a place like Iron Creek instead of some workshop in Pittsburgh or New York?”

  His smile grew. “I was being encouraged to rethink my lack of enthusiasm for a certain project of which I’d expressed disapproval. I imagine the lack of culture and comfort to be found in Iron Creek was meant to bring me around to a more agreeable state of mind.”

  Diana was hard-pressed to think of anything less likely to work on someone like him. “They thought you’d knuckle under after a few months on the harsh frontier?”

  That made him laugh. “Well, I’d certainly given them reason to believe I would. I was rather accustomed to my comforts and my luxuries. Becoming a half-vampire abomination is the second drastic change in direction my life has undertaken. You might not have cared much for me the last time I wore this face.”

  “When you were young?” The arrogant spark couldn’t be new, but it was also tempered by his wisdom. Without that… “Yes, I imagine you could be a turd.”

  “I started working under Ephraim when I was seventeen, and that’s probably the only thing that kept me from being a complete monster. At least with him around
, I always knew I wasn’t the smartest man in the room.”

  “A peculiar concern.” One she’d never had to worry about.

  “The concern of a self-absorbed ass who needed a reason to feel superior to everyone around him.” Nate leaned forward and dropped a hand to cover hers. “If I ever slip into that sort of behavior again, do me a great favor and punch in a few of my teeth.”

  She turned her hand and wrapped her fingers around his. “The last thing you should do is encourage me to express myself through violence. I do it often enough, don’t you think?”

  “Ah, and that makes me a glorious hypocrite.” He squeezed her hand, his expression amused. “I don’t like to think of people hitting you, but I’ve no particular problem imagining you hitting people.”

  “Then I promise,” she murmured, mortified at her breathless tone. “A good wallop to the kisser if you start lording your brains over us common folk.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ll need.” His voice wasn’t breathless, but it seemed lower—or maybe she only wanted it to be. “Too much of anything is a bad thing, even brains. If you assume you already know everything, you stop thinking.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” But we want other, more dangerous things, don’t we, Diana?

  Nate rubbed his thumb along her knuckles once before easing his hand free. “Before we arrive, we should talk about the last apology I owe you. Or rather, the first.”

  He really had rattled her brain. “I’m afraid I don’t remember why you were apologizing.”

  “Neither do I, specifically. But as for the general situation…” He cleared his throat. “On occasion, I drink too much. It makes me irritable and difficult, which makes it a stupid thing to do.”

  “Oh.” Explaining that her only regret was that he hadn’t been sober and willing would surely only make things more awkward. “Consider yourself forgiven.”

  “Thank you. I promise I won’t indulge in that particular vice while we’re in a dangerous situation.”

  He kept his gaze averted, and Diana leaned down, forcing him to look at her. “How drunk were you?”

  His smile was cold and careful—so careful she couldn’t see his fangs. “Drunk enough.”

  Drunk enough. She shivered, unaccountably hurt by his lack of recollection—and what he was really saying. If he’d been in possession of all his faculties, if he’d been in control, he wouldn’t have touched her at all.

  She straightened, folding her hands in her lap. A moment that had moved her, left her wanting, had been nothing more enduring than the burn of liquor in his veins. “I would appreciate your sobriety, especially while we’re in the Deadlands.”

  If he felt her withdrawal, any loss was hidden behind those dark eyes. “And you will have it.”

  Anger stabbed at her, sharp and hot, and she bit her tongue to hold back caustic words. Any emotion would betray weakness, and she’d already shown him so much. “Thank you.”

  He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but closed it again. “You’re familiar with the area around Crystal Springs,” he said after a tense moment. “Do you know how close we are?”

  “Not far now.” It came out sounding brusque, so she took a deep breath and modulated her voice. “Watch for a stand of walnut trees. Doc had them shipped out, and the men planted them on the outskirts of town.”

  Nate nodded and turned his attention to the carriage’s small window. “I admit, I’m looking forward to meeting your friend again. She must be a rare sort of schoolteacher to have tamed an unapologetic scoundrel like Archer.”

  “Grace and Archer…” They were very happy, something that had both allowed and encouraged Diana to forge her own path, away from Crystal Springs. “They take care of each other, and of the town.”

  “Archer as a respectable citizen. What an amazing thing.”

  “He’s quite beloved by everyone.” Nate’s smile held a desperate edge, one that made Diana squirm. “You needn’t trouble yourself to talk to me, you know. I’m comfortable with silence.”

  “I see.” He fell quiet for a few seconds, then laughed. “I suppose I’m nervous.”

  Only a fool would torment herself with questions. “Why?”

  Both of his eyebrows swept up. “You’re not?”

  “That depends.” She swallowed hard. “Nervous about what?”

  He just shook his head. “You really are a bloodhound, through and through.”

  It didn’t sound like a compliment. “You’re anxious about this trip, then? Our mission?”

  “I’m anxious about riding into the Deadlands, no matter how many times I’ve done it before. But you’re not.” He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly intent. “You know you can handle it, don’t you?”

  She hadn’t really thought about it, and now she couldn’t, not with him watching her with something approaching awe. “If I didn’t think I could do this, I would’ve told Emmett to find someone else. I’m not reckless, Nate. It’s only that…this is what I am.”

  “This is what you are,” he agreed. “And so I’ll be what I’ve always been—an inventor following a bloodhound into battle, even if the battlefield will be somewhat unusual.”

  “This will be as much your fight as mine,” Diana reminded him. “You have to play your part, whatever you decide that should be. You could claim boredom with me, though the opposite might serve you better. Tell them I’m too much trouble, and you can’t wait to be rid of me?”

  He looked at his hands, flexing them several times before spreading his fingers wide. “They don’t look as weak as they did a few months ago, but perhaps I can still play the incompetent scholar. My vampire powers have faded somewhat since I replaced fresh blood with the substitute we discovered.”

  She couldn’t help staring at his hands, solid and strong but graceful. Skilled. “You’ll have to feed from me, if only for the show of the marks.” The thought should have scared her—it needed to scare her—but instead she tingled with curiosity.

  “I’d considered it,” he muttered under his breath.

  “The—” Let it go, Diana. “Some of the humans who submit willingly… It’s said they do it for the pleasure. That it’s unspeakable. Addictive.”

  He cleared his throat loudly. “I can control the pleasure. Hunter wasn’t interested in experiencing it, for so very many reasons. Though I don’t worry so much about having to prove your marks. You’re a bloodhound, so of course they’d heal. I worry about when someone asks me to drink from you to prove you’re not toxic to vampires, as a typical bloodhound would be.”

  A dark flash outside the window saved her from casting about for a reply. “We’re here. Did Wilder send word we’d be arriving today?”

  Nate straightened. “He told me he would. Archer should be expecting us.”

  The coach rattled to a stop in front of the stable, and the door opened. But the man who reached inside for her hand wasn’t Archer. “Jesse.”

  The man who’d spent most of the new moons with her tugged her from the steam coach. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Diana.”

  She stood there, dumbstruck, her hand still in his. “What are you doing here?”

  Jesse smiled, slow and warm. “I was in town picking up supplies and heard you were on your way. Couldn’t miss a chance to see an old friend.”

  Not long ago, he’d been more than a friend, though not quite a lover. “My manners are lacking. Nate, this is Jesse Samuels. Jesse, this is Nathaniel Powell, a friend from Iron Creek.”

  Nate’s gaze took in Jesse’s grip on her hand, his too-friendly manner and the way he straightened in borderline challenge under the cool assessment. When the half-vampire smiled, it was chilly. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Samuels.”

  Archer swooped in, a wide grin on his face. “Samuels, go get your woman a drink. Nate, how the hell have you been?”

  As Jesse dragged her away, Diana looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Nate’s stunned expression. As awkward as things had been between them
, she found herself wishing she could stay and explain, but what would she say?

  No, better to let it lie.

  Nate felt a right proper fool.

  Diana had vanished with the too-handsome farmer, leaving Nate to the less-than-tender mercies of what passed for civilized conversation in Archer’s mind. “It’s nice to see you again, Archer. You look well.”

  “I feel it.” Archer frowned in confusion, then glanced in the direction Diana had gone. “Why do I think I might have stuck my foot in it just now?”

  Feeling as tired as a man twice his years, Nate sighed. “Because I’ve developed your knack for aggravating women.”

  “Oh, you poor bastard.” Archer looped an arm around his shoulders. “Come on. I don’t have the answers myself, but I’ve got something better.”

  “Whiskey?” Except no, he couldn’t even indulge in that dubious comfort. Not considering what had happened last time.

  “I was going to say access to the lady’s best friend.” Archer assumed an innocent expression. “Unless I misread that look back there, and you’re not interested?”

  He doubted Grace would do much to further his cause when even Satira had turned on him in Diana’s defense. “She’s a beautiful woman, but I could not think of a more dangerous time to cultivate a relationship.”

  “Now that’s the damn truth. What’s this Wilder telegraphed about? You heading out over the border?”

  “You’re not going to like it.” But Nate told him the details anyway, everything from Emmett’s arrival with Victoria to the mission they’d outlined, ending with, “You spent a lot of time undercover in the Deadlands. Have you seen anything like this?”

  Archer’s casual demeanor had vanished, leaving him tense and angry. “Never. Hell, I rarely saw the unwilling auctioned at all. Most of the bloodsuckers who like that sort of thing keep it under wraps—for appearance’s sake, if nothing else.”

  Unwilling had too many shades of gray in the Deadlands, and they both knew it. Vampires could strip free will in so many ways. “Invitation only, I’m sure, especially with a bloodhound involved.”