by Kira Nyte
He was a foolhardy man who had fallen for a woman.
Not just any woman, but Vivian Hawkins. A glorified beauty with a spirit of gold, a mind as complex as her mother’s apparent breeding, and an innocence he wanted to protect.
The rest of their date went smoothly, albeit too fast, even if they closed out Café Claude. Draven made sure to leave a hefty tip in thanks for the staff’s patience. He considered extending the evening to one of the clubs Clark had told him about, but was wary of the temptation that would come with any intimate atmosphere.
Sure, he’d love to indulge, but refused to disrespect Vivian to feed his own desires. It was bad enough the temptation rocked him more times that he cared to count over dinner, and that was in a public domain that was romantic, but not necessarily seductive.
He could only imagine what the thump of music, fog, dim lights, and sofas might do.
He directed the loaner car from Clark into the driveway of Jackson’s house and cut the engine. He flashed Vivian a smile before climbing out of the car to help her from her seat. He didn’t relinquish her hand as they walked to the front door.
“I had a wonderful time tonight, Draven,” Vivian said, resting her head against his arm for a moment. “Thank you.”
“If you’re up for it, I’d love to see you again. Tomorrow night.”
He led her up to the stoop and turned to face her. As at many times throughout the evening, she captivated him, striking away the world, leaving Vivian and him beneath the glow of the moonlight.
Yeah, the club wouldn’t have been a good idea at all. He couldn’t help himself when he cupped her face between his palms and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. The slow, sensual motion left those lips parted on a breath and her hands resting over his.
“I’d like that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Pants. Jeans. Something to cover your legs.” He dipped his head, nuzzling his nose against hers in a light caress. “I’ll take you on the bike, if you’d like.”
“Do I look like I seek thrills?” she teased, leaning her small frame closer. “I’ll cover my legs.”
Draven tilted his head and covered her mouth with his. Fire exploded along his nerves, scalding his veins and searing his mind. Oh, sweet heavens, the way she met each sweep of his tongue, a powerful give and take in a dance that quickly spiraled out of control. She tasted like wine and light and inspired a craving he never wanted to satiate.
He didn’t recall dropping his hand to her lower back and bringing her flush against him. Her body, so warm and delicate, felt damn right in his arms. His palm molded perfectly along her face.
Their mouths melded together as if meant for one another.
“Ahem.”
Vivian jerked, tearing her mouth away. Draven secured her to him, refusing to allow the impromptu interruption from Jackson, who appeared rumpled and rather annoyed in the open doorway, to end their evening on a sour note. He had to bite back a satisfied grin when she relaxed into his chest and rested her head beneath his chin.
Jackson’s brows rose over his glasses. He glowered at Draven for a long moment before turning a far kinder expression on Vivian.
It made Draven growl inside.
“I was waiting for you two to come back. I need to discuss some…things with you, Vivi.” That softness he turned on Vivian froze over as he lifted his gaze back to Draven. “I’m sorry to cut this night short.” He didn’t sound sorry in the least.
Vivian patted Draven’s hand before she stepped out of his arms. She smiled at him. “Tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”
Draven mustered a smile for Vivian’s sake, ignoring the coolness in Jackson’s expression. “Nine?”
“Nine is perfect. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Draven waited on the walkway at the foot of the stoop as Vivian disappeared inside the house. Jackson rolled his eyes and firmly closed the door.
“You’re just jealous,” Draven groused at the door, kicking a pebble into the stair with the toe of his shoe.
The night’s abrupt ending succeeded in putting Draven in a foul mood. That mood plummeted into the pits of disgust when he returned to Clark’s house, stepped into the kitchen, and saw three black-clad, cloak-wearing, pasty-skinned men sitting like stiff corpses at Clark’s counter.
Well, Death has decided to pick a ripe night for a visit.
The vampires turned like one being divvied up into three to watch as he made his entrance. Clark turned his eyes to the ceiling with an arch of his brows as he pushed off his elbows at the counter and straightened onto his feet. Draven tossed Clark’s car keys and his friend caught them flawlessly.
Not a single vampire flinched.
Garrett, his obsidian eyes sharp, nodded in greeting. “Draven. I do hope we aren’t intruding. We’ve arrived earlier than expected.”
“I see that. I wasn’t expecting you for another night or so.” Draven went to the fridge and pulled out beers for Clark and himself. “Drink?”
Elders Brodan and Sylvester lifted their hands in unison to decline the offer. Their skeletal features and deep-set black eyes could rival those of a corpse. It’s a good thing they can’t walk in the sunlight. These men would scare the life from the living.
Draven popped the cap off his beer and took a swig. If only beer had even a fraction of the effect on him as it did on humans, he’d appreciate the relaxing buzz.
“Have you explored the town?” Draven asked. Clark snickered behind the lip of his bottle as he tipped the beer up for a drink. Garrett cast Clark a frozen glance before turning that dead gaze to Draven. Gods, what he’d do to return to Vivian, if only to steal a glimpse of the life and emotion in her eyes. To feel her warmth. “I assume not.”
“We do not have reason to explore. We are here for one purpose, that of which I hope you have discovered some evidence for us.”
“Well, I’ve actually been enjoying the bars and the clubs. I was going to get to work tomorrow.”
Brodan’s lips pulled tight. “There is no time to waste should there be a chance Salvatore is alive.”
Draven scowled. Despite these guys taking him and his family under their roof, he never cared for them. It was as if they walked a tightrope through their utterly boring lives. They moved from point A to point B without so much as enjoying the scenery along the way.
Such a waste of immortality.
“Sal’s dead. He fathered two children who have inherited his accounts. That is why the accounts haven’t been touched until recently. They only came into the inheritance, from what I’ve learned.”
Garrett shared a silent glance with his two sidekicks. Draven hopped up onto the edge of the counter and leaned back against the cabinets. Clark groaned.
“You’ve forgotten your manners,” he mumbled.
Draven flashed him an exaggerated smile and toasted the air with his beer. “To your reckless and inconsiderate friend.”
Clark laughed, taking up a spot on the counter opposite the sink.
Garrett cleared his throat to recapture Draven’s attention. What the old bones didn’t realize was his attention barely hung on Garrett’s presence and was entirely focused on Vivian.
He couldn’t wait until tomorrow evening.
“Have you…met these children of his? Have you confirmed this to be true?”
“Clark has some sources in town capable of confirming this,” Draven said. He caught himself before he added the siblings weren’t purebred vampires. Instead, he toed the subject with a casual, “Maybe they walk in the sunlight and sleep at night. Nowadays, with modern technology, anything’s possible.”
Sylvester scowled, his white teeth and sharp fangs creating a monster out of the man. “Salvatore would never allow his children to tamper in beliefs beyond our coven.”
Draven gave himself an exaggerated once-over before meeting Sylvester’s disgusted gaze. “I’m certainly not entirely of your coven’s beliefs, but I landed in your house.”
<
br /> Garrett straightened up more, if that was even possible. “Draven, do not disrespect the Elders.”
He shrugged. “I speak nothing but the truth and offer one of the numerous possibilities that might involve Sal’s offspring. We don’t know what happened to him once he left Levoire Mansion. We don’t know whom he met, where he went, and who is responsible for his death. The name of the woman with whom he produced these children.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees with his beer resting lightly between his hands. “What if his children aren’t pure vampires? What if the mother was something other than one of us? I mean no disrespect by stating the obvious, Garrett, but remaining stuck in a time from two centuries ago is an enemy you don’t want to dance with.”
“Draven—”
He held up a stalling hand. “One more thing, if I may. What I’ve seen of this town so far is unlike anything I’ve experienced elsewhere. There are supernaturals of all kinds, many of whom are not dating, engaged, or married to members of their own races or breeds. Just keep that in mind.”
He needed to definitively know Garrett’s stance on crossbreeds. What dangers might be presented to Vivian and her brother when the old bones discovered the truth.
Garrett remained stone still. Had Draven not known him to be a living…thing, he’d think the guy was a Halloween decoration. It would certainly fit with the town’s theme, as well as the time of year.
“It is not something we will consider. Salvatore’s heirs are purebred of his bloodline. He would never sacrifice his place, or the future of his coven, by diluting the Levoire blood with that of a lesser breed.”
Garrett’s declaration raked away any good humor that remained inside Draven. Slowly, he placed his beer on the counter and wrapped his hands around the granite edge. His nails dug into the solid material. The air crackled with tension.
“It’s a possibility, Garrett, a very real one. If, and I speak hypothetically”—you blasted screwball—“I come to learn his children are not purebred vampires, what will you do? They are all that is left of Sal, and the rightful heirs to the coven, regardless of their breeding.”
“They will be terminated and a new heir will be chosen at our discretion,” Brodan said instantly.
Draven gave a nonchalant shrug as a slew of cusses echoed through his head. He worried that Vivian and Kalen wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms, but he didn’t expect these ancient cadavers to call down a damn death sentence without any consideration.
“We cannot have any threat to our beliefs,” Sylvester said, his voice as cold as his skin. “We have thrived by our laws and that cannot be jeopardized.”
Draven may have tolerated these guys and their old ways before. Now? In addition to mentally devising a plan to keep Vivian and Kalen under Garrett’s radar, he wanted to get Sophia out of Levoire Mansion. He knew in his heart his parents would never leave, but if he could save his sister from the dismal future these three planned, he would.
“We shall return tomorrow evening,” Garrett said, his voice adding to the tension in the room. The three stood in unison, one being divided into three. All three pairs of cold, dead eyes stared at him. “Our gratitude for your service to us and your continued help in this matter.”
Draven seethed as the Elders filed out of the kitchen like ghosts floating in black cloaks.
When Garrett reached the front door, Draven dropped to his feet. “I do have another question for you.”
Garrett paused, but didn’t turn.
Draven took one step toward him. “When you suspected there might have been heirs, did you consider bringing them back to the mansion might not fit with your plans for the coven’s future?”
The dark idea swelled within him, making his stomach tilt. In that moment of clarity, he realized how blind he had been coming into this mission.
“We never considered bringing any child of Salvatore’s back to the mansion. They were not raised under our laws.” Garrett turned his head just enough to catch Draven’s gaze from the corner of his eye. “This is about justice and eliminating any threat to the future head of the coven. We must clean up the mistakes of the past to ensure the future of the Levoire family. Good evening.”
Shards of razor-like ice raked through his veins as he stared at the empty space where Garrett had stood. The front door closed quietly. He’d been used as a proverbial hunting hound for the judge, jury, and executioner.
You damn son of a—
“Easy.” Clark flicked his hand.
Draven looked down at his fist, his arm trembling. Small drops of blood fell to the floor by his shoe. He relaxed his fingers, his nails unlatching from his palm, and gave his skin time to heal.
“Well, guess there won’t be any familial introductions occurring anytime soon.” Clark’s sarcasm was weighted with the same fury that beat within Draven. “How did your date go?”
Draven hissed, baring his fangs. “I’m going to maul that damn skeletal excuse for a placeholder in this world. Give him a damn UV bath.”
Clark scowled. “I’ll help you pull back the curtains.”
“I need a drink.” He slammed his fist on the counter and growled as cracks appeared in it. Any hope of retaining some calm from his time with Vivian vanished on the wings of his new rage and worry. “A real drink.”
Thank the gods for his friend. Clark was the closest person to family besides Draven’s blood family.
“I know a place in town that’s open late and serves up some spiked red wine.”
Draven was at the door before Clark finished talking. “Let’s go. I’ll clean up the blood when we get back.”
Chapter Twelve
Saturday morning blueberry pancakes at Mummy’s Diner. A small tradition that brought a smile to Vivian’s mouth and excitement to the beginning of another day.
Except for today.
Tucked in a booth with Jackson beside her and Fawn and Kalen opposite them, she couldn’t muster much excitement. Apparently, neither could anyone else. Anxiety thrummed between them, dense and suffocating. Not even the sweet smell of pancakes could tease her mouth to water or will away the unease stirring her belly.
Jackson glanced at his watch. Again. He lifted his coffee mug for a sip, but put it down before actually drinking.
Vivian lowered her fork to the table, giving up on breakfast. She finally looked at her brother, whose haunting gaze had watched her hawkishly for the last ten minutes. She’d been avoiding his worried look.
“Jackson, one minute. Sixty seconds. Give your arm a rest before I take that watch off your wrist,” Fawn said, pushing her barely-touched pancakes to the side with a sigh. Jackson grumbled something under his breath as he dropped his hand on the table.
“Vivi,” Kalen murmured, his voice soft and comforting, a promise of support not in words but in the tone and the emotion behind his nickname for her. She forced a small smile, acknowledging what he was trying to do. He’d done it so many times before when they were prisoners at the lab. A secret embrace through one single word and all the love he held for her behind that word when he spoke.
“A setback is not the end. Mustn’t forget that,” Fawn finally said, addressing everyone’s dour mood directly. “This will get figured out and fixed. For good.”
“It’s hard to fix something that hides,” Jackson groused, tugging a hand through his hair. The mussed strands stood up in every direction until he smoothed them down, not that it helped much. He looked at Vivian. “I think it would be a good idea not to bring Douglas arou—”
“Draven,” Vivian corrected.
Jackson waved a hand. “Draven. Until we have this controlled. You know, just in case there are any moments where you regress.”
“Jealously doesn’t play well on you, Jackson,” Kalen said, his voice taut. Jackson’s cheeks reddened, but he met Kalen’s gaze without flinching.
“I’m being serious. One of the variables from my blood samples regressed twice as fast as the day before. Like math. Today is one-plus-one, to
morrow is two-plus-two, the following day four-plus-four. You see? At this rate, the loss of control could happen sooner than later, and almost without warning.” Jackson blew out a breath. “I’m not jealous, Kalen.”
“You’re as not jealous as I am not smitten.”
Fawn snorted a laugh. Vivian’s eyes widened.
“Oh, don’t go there.” Jackson twisted to look at Vivian, his eyes pleading and his face flushed. “I’m not jealous. Really. Your brother needs some manners.”
Vivian patted the back of Jackson’s hand. “I know you’re not.” She knew very well he was. “He’s just concerned. We’re all concerned.”
“That’s one hell of a strange way of showing concern when his jab was directed at me.” He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Regardless, I think I’m going to head over to Hugh’s. Sitting here is doing me no good. I’ll see you there.”
Vivian sighed inwardly when Jackson dropped a twenty onto the table, slid out of the booth, and disappeared through the crowded lobby area.
“You won’t let it go, brother.” She turned her dismayed gaze to Kalen. At least he had the sense to appear apologetic. “It was nothing but a small kiss. Nothing but me being curious. He was not at fault.”
“I’m aware, Vivi. That doesn’t change the fact that part of him lusts for you,” Kalen said quietly. A knowing gleam lit his irises when he shared a loving look with Fawn. “Sometimes, what we think is simple is far more than that.” He took Fawn’s hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “Perhaps we can bring him out one night. To that club you’ve told me about. Insomnia, correct?”
“It might do him some good,” Fawn agreed. This time, she glanced at her watch. “Hugh said we should come by around eleven. It’s quarter of.” She smiled at Vivian. “What do you say?”
“I’m ready to see what he’s developing.”
Kalen paid the server, tucking Jackson’s money into Vivian’s hand. “Give it back to him.” As they climbed out of the booth, her brother slung an arm around her shoulders. “How did everything go last night with Draven?”