Feed from her soul!
He pinched his eyes shut, trying to picture absolute, glorious nothing painted on the back of his lids. All he’d need is a few minutes to soothe things over, excuse himself and leave. No bridges would be burned between them. But the mental picture of her standing over him, hips rolling as she came against his mouth, rocketed back into his mind’s eye.
Take more! Coward!
“You know what you said earlier about not pulling from me?” Ariana leaned in close. The lingering scent of her arousal hit him like a sledgehammer. Dante’s eyes rolled back. His nostrils flared. She pushed out a deep breath and said, “What’d you mean?”
He was so. Fucking. Screwed.
There wasn’t any way in hell that he was telling her about this feeding method of choice. At least not until he found out if Watchers shared the same necessity. He had to rule out what he discovered in those books—had to rule out that he was an incubus.
She wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him if he was a demon. Who would?
How could he leave Ariana without making what happened between them take a bullet train to Awkwardville?
“This is going to come out sounding harsh,” Dante said, scrubbing his hands over his head. He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. The voices surged inside him, threatening to bubble over. “But please don’t touch me. Not now.”
She removed her hand like his back was on fire. “You’re gonna go back to the shut-down, pissed-off, masked crusading Dante you were before, huh?”
“I don’t wear a mask,” he forced out.
“You can tell me what’s going on with you, you know. I might be able to help.”
The voices ground low, too deep to decipher. Time was running out. “You can’t help me. You’re only going to make it worse.”
She paused, getting the beat on him. “Can you even look at me?”
“No.” He only raised his gaze enough to catch her hand planted on her hip. “I can’t. I’m—I’m sorry, Ariana. I’m hungrier than I thought. Can I—can I catch up with you later, after I’ve fed?”
“Do what you need to do.” Shadows slashed across her face as she turned and bent over the railing, showing him the round curve of her backside, the tiny round of her waist, and the smooth arch of her back. “But don’t count on me waiting around for you to come knocking. I may or may not be available when you finally decide what battle it is you’re fighting.”
Great. She was pissed. Just what he needed. If Dante didn’t think he was going to lose control and hurt her, things would’ve been different. He would’ve stayed.
Who needs food when you’ve got a woman who stops your heart stone dead?
But the voices banged louder, vibrating the blood in his veins. No time. If he didn’t screw someone or bash someone’s brains in, a blackout was on the imminent horizon.
With a final glance at Ariana still leaning over the balcony, Dante let himself out. He strode down through the lobby and out the haven doors. And as soon as he hit grass, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
ARIANA SHOWERED AND dressed, going through the motions without giving them much thought. After she wiggled into a black corset and leather pants, she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, wondering when she’d washed her hair and braided it down her back.
She couldn’t remember the tiny things that led to her standing here—had she really put on makeup? Peach lip gloss shined on her lips, black eye-liner circled her eyes, and blush tinted her cheeks. She couldn’t remember doing much of anything, exactly.
Thoughts of Dante swathed around her like sticky midnight fog. He was there, ever present, every step of the way.
As Ariana closed the wall leading to her balcony, she couldn’t help but focus on the chaise lounge. The cushion had flattened where she’d planted her heel, where she’d pushed off with all her weight to tilt her hips toward his mouth.
Although she hadn’t known Dante for more than a few days, she was starting to get a read on him. When his eyes were onyx and cool, he was one person—protective, mysterious, and . . . caring. But when his eyes were swirling gold like molten lava, he was another. During those moments, his muscles tensed, his jaw ticked, and his words were clipped.
If Ariana didn’t know better, she’d say he was fighting an urge. Like a vein junkie fighting a mundane binge.
She hadn’t seen him drink a drop of anything in days. She’d dropped blood past his lips when he’d been unconscious in the chamber, but it hadn’t been enough to sustain him as long as it had.
Was that why his eyes were fiery gold? Because he was starving? Then why didn’t he take from her vein? She’d offered it freely. She’d taken from him.
I didn’t fill up on you.
He didn’t drink from her at all. What was the reason for the surprised tone? What had he meant, and what was she missing?
She wasn’t about to sit in her room and stew over it. Her class was starting soon, and she wanted to drop by the library to grab that book he’d been reading. There was something in there that had caught his eye.
If Dante wanted to have a big-ass chip on his shoulder, keeping everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t get close to him, it was his prerogative. But she had one, too. She was going to figure out what was plaguing him on her own.
Ariana grabbed her coat and slipped it on, then shoved her cell into her back pocket. It didn’t take but two seconds waiting for the elevator for Ariana to glance at the camera. It winked its red eye once . . . twice . . . assuring her that she was never alone.
Someone was always watching.
The ding of the arriving elevator startled her more than it should’ve. She was jumpy, her nerves like live wires sparking beneath her skin. It was Savage and his death shades. Had to be.
Minus the rendezvous with Dante, her night had gone to hell in a hand basket. Between the therians in the black market, the fire in the Watchers’ compound, and the death shades, being on edge was the way she was going to have to live from here on out.
She rubbed the mark on her arm, wondering how it’d affect her astral-projecting. Each time she projected to the black market, the dots connected. The mark darkened. Though she didn’t know the dots were connecting into Black Moon’s emblem—and couldn’t explain it if she tried—it just solidified what she’d believed all along.
She was trapped here. Tied to this place.
She loved living in Black Moon. The grounds were gorgeous. Her room and view were spectacular. The people were friendly to the max. But she was alone.
It wouldn’t be such a horrible fate if there was someone here she could share things with. Someone who made her heart beat fast and stole the breath from her lungs. Someone who . . . didn’t look like he was going to clench into a solid rock when he got close to her.
When the elevator doors peeled back, Dylan was inside leaning over, adjusting her belt. Four large boxes were stacked beside her on a moving dolly.
“I’m sorry,” Ariana said, shielding her eyes. If Dylan wanted privacy, she shouldn’t be doing—whatever it was she was doing with her pants—in the elevator. “I can wait for the next one.”
“No, it’s these new Vamp Me jeans,” Dylan said, throwing off a downright irritated vibe. Dylan removed a dagger from her waistband and flipped it around in her palm. Crushed diamonds glittered from the silver hilt. “Slade gave me Mathilda a few months back, and with my old jeans she stayed in just fine. With these, she either scratches my stomach with her jewels or slides between my legs. Either way, she’s being more of a pain than a friend.”
As Ariana stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, she couldn’t help but smile, her nerves instantly eased. “Mathilda?”
Dylan blew curls out of her face and bent over, working the dagger around her side. “Yeah, Slade said I should name her. He said assassins name all their weapons so the
y bond. I wouldn’t know about our bond. I haven’t used her yet. But if she doesn’t stop scratching my stomach, she might end up bonding with a Dumpster.” She threw up her hands. Mathilda stayed put. “I think that’s better.”
When Dylan looked up, Ariana remarked how beautiful she was. Large chocolate-covered locks framed her face and bobbed past her shoulders. Bright blue eyes blinked sweetly, unjudging. Ariana wouldn’t have noticed her gently swelling baby bump if it weren’t for her shirt lifting in the front.
Two seconds with Dylan in the elevator and Ariana could understand why people flooded into ReVamp for support. Dylan exuded kindness and sincerity. It was written all over her face, in the way she was gazing at Ariana—really truly looking at her—as if she actually cared what Ariana had to say.
The elders looked at Ariana the same way, with a loving smile and bright, hopeful eyes, but there was something else in the way they sat before her, hands clasped in their laps, hanging on Ariana’s every word.
It felt a lot like expectation. What the hell they expected was her best guess.
“How are you finding Black Moon’s accommodations?” Ariana asked, watching the numbers on the elevator descend slowly. “Did our Primus get you all situated?”
“Everyone is so thankful for a place to seek shelter, I’m sure they would’ve crashed on the couches in the lobby if you would’ve let them. And I wouldn’t be so hard on your Primus,” she said, pulling down the front of her sweater. “He has a lot on his shoulders.”
“I’m not sure what gave you the impression I was being hard on him.” Ariana shook her head. “We get along fine.”
“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me to say. I’m sure you work together really well.”
Ariana’s lips pursed. Who had Dylan been talking to? And what did they know about Ariana’s strained relationship with her Primus?
“How is the blood supply coming along?” Ariana asked, desperate to change the subject.
“No snags so far. Narci is wonderfully helpful. These boxes are going to the vamps on the second floor. We started at the top with the elders, per your Primus’s orders of course, and are working our way down. We should have enough to get us through the day and most of tomorrow. I’d be able to work a lot faster if Slade didn’t insist I use this damn thing.” She patted the metal handle of the dolly. “I could carry this many boxes in one hand, but Slade says he wants me to take extra precautions, and these things weigh a ton.”
“Want me to give you a hand?”
“No,” she rubbed her tiny tummy. “I think the baby likes exercise. I get a kick every time the elevator goes up and down.”
The second-floor button lit up.
“Okay, but if you need anything,” Ariana said, “anything at all, it’s okay to be the squeaky wheel.”
“Don’t worry about me squeaking. It’s getting me to shut up that’s the problem.” Dylan double-checked Mathilda’s position on her waistband before rolling the dolly out the elevator like the boxes were packed with feathers instead of bottles.
Ariana held the doors open for her to pass through. Dylan handled the boxes like a pro. Like she’d distributed a hundred boxes just like these to a hundred other starving vamps.
“One thing,” Dylan said, turning back before the doors closed. “Have you seen Dante? Ruan’s looking for him.”
Ariana’s chest seized at the mention of his name and her hands got clammy. Could Dylan read her reaction to him? Was her attachment written all over her face? As obvious as it felt?
“No, haven’t seen him,” Ariana lied as her cheeks flushed. “But if I do, I’ll relay the message.”
“Ariana, mind if I give you a little advice?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t jump into anything too quickly with him.” Dylan paused as if trying to find the words that tasted just right. “Dante is . . . different than the rest of the vamps you’ve got here.”
“I know.” He challenged her. Protected her. Made her laugh and loosen up. He made her heart beat fast and her thoughts stream slow. Something she hadn’t discovered in all her years at Black Moon. Most of all, Dante didn’t treat her like anything she wasn’t. “That’s what I like about him best.”
“Yeah, I thought so.” With a smile, Dylan turned and strode down the hall.
Trying not to think about Dylan’s subtle warning, Ariana pulled her own cell out of her pocket and checked the time.
Damn it. She wouldn’t have as much time in the library as she’d like.
The elevator whisked Ariana down to the lobby. When the doors opened she spilled out, making a mad dash for the library. As she passed the kitchen, she caught sight of Narci making a fresh batch of AB in back.
“May I?” Ariana asked, pointing to the bottles situated on the corner of the island. She hadn’t had much of anything today other than a swig of O mixed with Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
“Sure, hon,” Narci called over her shoulder. “But do you mind serving yourself tonight? I’m a little behind. That Dylan is driving me like a work horse.”
“You should be the one telling her what’s what around here.” Ariana grabbed the bottle closest to her. “If she’s working you too hard, tell her to take a chill. Tell her that comes from the squeaky wheel.”
“Thanks.” Narci nodded, buried in stacks of bottles. “I will.”
As Ariana pushed through the double doors, Narci called out, “Ariana, I almost forgot!”
Ariana turned back. “Yeah?”
“Echo stopped by and picked up his usual.”
“Come again?” Ariana’s stomach rolled. “Who brought him back into Black Moon?”
“I’m assuming the Primus. He’s the one who escorted him in.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Narci shrugged. “Echo wanted me to tell you on your way out that he’d meet you in the cemetery. He said he wanted to talk before your training session.”
There went the few extra minutes Ariana had to stop by the library. She huffed in disgust and pushed through the haven’s double doors, stepping into the morning sun.
If Echo wasn’t dead, buried six feet under with a tombstone that read sorry son-of-a-bitch, she wasn’t havin’ it.
Chapter Nineteen
“We are closer to the Ever After than we’ve ever been. Remain vigilant. Do not rejoice in violence, but be patient in the truth.”
WATCHER ARCHIVE, UPDATE
ARIANA SWEPT INTO the shadowed cloak of the forest, between two fuzzy fir trees arching overhead. The path was small and overgrown and wasn’t traveled by anyone other than the random teary-eyed mourner.
Exactly what Ariana looked for when choosing the training ground.
She hadn’t traveled more than a quarter mile before she picked up Echo’s pungent scent. As the path bent, sweeping around three towering evergreens that had bonded together at the trunks, she spotted Echo leaning against them.
His crimson locks looked black beneath the heavy canopy of the forest, his color paler than normal. Cargo pants and a bulky coat only made him look larger, if that was possible.
“Morning, Echo.” She passed by without meeting him eye to eye. “Don’t mind if I hope it’s your last.”
“Aw, come on Ari, you know I gotta do what I told. Just like you, I got a job to do.” He pushed off the tree and followed her closely, taking swigs on the black-rimmed bottle in his hand. It smelled rancid, like a gagging mix of oil and sewer. “I didn’t know what they was plannin’ to do. They said they wanna talk with you, that all. You gotta believe me.”
“I don’t have to do anything, Echo. You said you’d protect me and you didn’t, you said I’d be fine and I wasn’t. Forgive me for not hanging on your every word. It’s worth little more than shit now, don’t you think?”
“What’s you wanting me to do? Turn ’round on my family? T
ell you to come to my compound so we could take a real close look at the mark on your arm? Nah, you wouldn’t have come. You’d put up a fight like you always do.”
“You should’ve warned me,” she said, picking up her pace. “The second your family said they wanted to talk to me, you should’ve said something.”
“I couldn’t Ari, couldn’t chance you sayin’ no.”
She spun around, finally meeting the red depths of his eyes. “Then when I asked you to accompany me on my last projection, you should’ve said no. You should’ve given me some kind of heads up or stayed the hell away from me.”
He shrugged big, stupid shoulders. “I wanted to make sure they take care of you right, get me? I carried you. Put you in that pit so you not get hurt. I protect you, but you no see it that way.”
“No, I don’t.” She spun on her heel and trudged down the path. “But I guess, in your own spineless way, you stuck around to take care of me. Pike would’ve gotten a rise out of dragging me through the mud.”
“Is that a thank you in there?”
“If that’s what you want to hear.” She chomped on the inside of her lip. “I guess so.”
Man, she really hated dishing out thanks when she didn’t feel righted yet. But what else could she do? Hold a grudge over Echo forever? He’d been her only friend through the years. And he’d disappeared during the commotion in the compound. He wasn’t the one who tried to roast her arm like a Ball Park Frank.
Echo patted her back. “I won’t be doing nothin’ like that again, Ari. Even if my word is throw away, just know I’m good. We’re good.”
Hell no, Echo wouldn’t be doing anything like that again. Just because Ariana squeezed out a smidgeon of thanks with a dash of forgiveness didn’t mean she wanted to project with him at her side again.
Up ahead, the fir trees broke into a small clearing, revealing the elder cemetery. Morning fog lingered above the headstones, shrouding the place in a rolling blanket of white. Headstones popped out of the moss like ivory-faced wildflowers, forming a wide circle around the outside of the grounds.
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