And now she was sharing a room with one, in a hotel full of them. The old panic started to flare deep within her again.
Lucien cleared his throat. “Uh, back there in the tunnel, you asked me to save your parents.” He met her gaze and she could see the agonizing guilt there, something she’d never expected from him—from any vampire. “What...what happened, Natalie? I have been sitting here, trying to imagine what it must have been like for you... If I’d known...” He growled softly and rose from the sofa to walk a couple of steps. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to me afterward? I would have helped you.” He paused, then his expression gentled. “Please, help me understand.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “It was in the papers.”
Lucien’s eyes widened in frustration. He gestured to her. “Obviously the reporters left a few important details out of the story.” He sat back down, his lips tight.
He kept asking for this and, damn it, maybe if he knew, he wouldn’t drag her in to any more vamp roosts or other deplorable situations.
“You want details, Lucien? Fine. I heard you were back in town. So I thought I’d surprise you. I wanted to go into town, and with the crappy weather Mom and Dad offered to drive in with me. We’d just opened the garage door when they came.”
She swallowed. She didn’t know whether it was the tranquilizer or the emotional toll of revisiting the most horrific night of her life—and death—but her stomach felt like it was a frog caught in a blender. Gross.
“It was snowing,” she said unexpectedly. That detail had always stuck with her. That strange quiet as the snowflakes fell and muffled sound. The pristine-white cover that got sprayed with blood. So much blood.
“The wolf attacked Dad but didn’t kill him. He made Dad watch his vampire friend kill Mom first.”
Even now, just talking about it, goose bumps rose on her arms. “They did this little creeped-out sicko signature thing, where they’d feed their victims their blood, then kill them.” Tears fell down her cheeks and she clenched her fingers tighter. She could still hear that gagging noise Mom had made as she’d tried not to swallow, the pleas her father had uttered, all bloody and torn from the werewolf’s claws. Mom had screamed when the vampire bit down on her, but that scream was silenced. Natalie knew she’d screamed. She knew she’d called out for help...
“They took a perverse delight in my father’s frustration, in my fear. I think killing Mom in front of us was the most devastating thing they could have done. She was always so sweet, so gentle. It was cruel, how they hurt her.” She didn’t mention what else they’d done, how they’d used their teeth to puncture her.
“Dad was so helpless. He went nuts trying to get to her.” She glanced down at her tightly clenched hands. “I couldn’t stop them.” That confession was so hard to face. She’d tried, and the vampire had shaken her off easily. She’d broken her arm when she’d landed across the road from his casual fling. “I screamed your name,” she admitted. “I don’t know why. I mean, there was no way you would have heard me, but you were the first person I thought of for help.” She lifted her gaze to Lucien’s.
His face was haggard, but he didn’t interrupt her.
“Dad told me to run.” He’d screamed it at her and those monsters had laughed as they’d tackled him to the ground, biting and tearing at him. Her father’s screams had rung in her ears as he’d been torn to shreds.
“I tried to run, but I was hurt and—” It was hard for her to put the rest into words.
“And?” Lucien prodded hoarsely.
She grimaced through her tears as she met his gaze. “The cancer had come back,” she whispered.
His eyes shut, hiding the pain that glimmered there oh, so briefly.
“I’d just done my first round of chemo. I was so weak—I didn’t get very far.”
Lucien left his chair and crossed to her, kneeling to cover her twisted hands with his.
It was as though his touch gave her a quiet strength to go on. She hadn’t spoken openly about that night in years, but she carried the memories with her and, every now and then, when she least expected it, she relived it, slipping back into the nightmare of her mind. Just as she had out in the tunnel where, for a brief moment, she’d thought she and her parents were being killed all over again.
“They forced me to drink their blood.” Her stomach heaved at the memory. “Everything they’d done up to then started to heal. My broken arm—”
“They broke your arm?” Lucien repeated.
She watched his pain give way to anger. Surprisingly, she took a little comfort from that.
“They weren’t very nice,” she whispered in what had to be the understatement of the century. “By that time, though, the neighbors had called the cops. They arrived just as the monsters drained me.” She shuddered at the horrific memory. She’d once thought that death wiped all senses out, but she now knew better. She’d felt every claw as it mangled her flesh, had felt every fang as it punctured her skin and tore through muscle. And then she’d felt her own heart slow then stop.
Lucien rubbed her wrists. “Did the vampire try to turn you after you died?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think the lycan blood would have inhibited it, but then I was revived in the ambulance.” She laughed bitterly. “A simple blood transfusion and good old CPR, and suddenly I was back in the land of the living.”
She chewed her lip for a moment. “It’s ironic, really. A mix-up at the blood bank—a blood bag from a half-null—and, hey, presto, I’m back.”
Only she’d come back changed. Different. Her own variation of monster.
Lucien frowned. “Then why were you reported dead?”
“Because I was dead. For a couple of minutes. The vamp and the wolf managed to escape. I was accompanied in the ambulance by a police officer, and he and the paramedics thought that if word got out I’d survived, the killers would come back for me to finish the job. So that night, Nina Stewart died.”
And that’s when her hell truly began.
She wiped at her tears then took a deep, cleansing breath. Wow. She felt wrung out, exhausted, and yet, somehow stronger. She’d been through hell. He still didn’t know the half of it, but at least he knew the half that affected him.
She twisted her hands out of his grip. “So you see, Lucien, I don’t like vampires. Or werewolves, for that matter. Your type killed my mother, my father—and me. You, who I’d considered my best friend, who had promised to visit, to keep in touch—to have my back...” she said, quietly emphasizing the last words. “You weren’t there when I desperately needed you, when I called your name. I knew you were in town, but you weren’t coming to me. After all your promises, you weren’t there when I needed you the most. That’s what killed me, Lucien. Those psycho dudes just finished the job you started.”
Lucien flinched and Natalie rose to avoid seeing the stark pain she knew her words had caused him. She picked up the bottle of wine on the end table and started to weave her way toward one of the bedrooms, her muscles feeling like hot lead as she forced her body to move.
“I’ll go with you to Devil’s Leap, but then that’s it. If we do or don’t find something to help Vivianne, that’s not on me. Either way, once we’ve checked out Devil’s Leap, you and I are done. After that, I don’t want to see you ever again.” She held up the bottle of wine. “Oh, and I’m taking this and I’m going to get drunk. Don’t interrupt me.”
Chapter 10
Lucien turned and waited for Natalie to catch up to him. The moon was just beginning to rise, bathing the forest in a light silver glow. She climbed up over the boulder then jumped down. He could see the puffs of her breath in the cool night air. She was surprisingly fit, he’d noticed. Even if she was incredibly hungover. He watched as she took another long swig from her water bottle. She was still wearing the gl
oves.
He’d also noticed a change in her since their conversation earlier in the day. Before she’d seemed...reactive. No, that wasn’t quite the right word. She’d been resistant, but she’d still been fairly obedient. Now she was...strong. Gutsy. She’d walked through the hotel foyer with her shoulders back and her head high, almost daring any vamp to try to sink his teeth in her. He’d lost count of the number of vamps he’d had to stare down—including Enzo.
She hadn’t encouraged conversation, either. She’d said her piece and that was it. He turned to look up at the mountain. They were almost at the summit of Mount Solitude, and she’d climbed, with a pack on her back, steadily through the evening. No complaints. No requests for rest. She was...determined.
His brow dipped. She was on a mission. When they found this damn bunker, wherever the hell it was, she’d help him look and then this, whatever the hell this was, was over. She’d be on her way home. After what she’d shared with him, he wouldn’t stop her. He wanted to—hell, he so wanted to—but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
God. He’d had no idea. She’d told him her story, but he knew she’d glossed over some of those details. Like her absolute terror, her grief, the torture she’d endured at the hands and teeth of those monsters. His hands clenched into tight fists. Logically he’d accepted she’d been murdered, and violently so. He’d imagined what that had entailed, had experienced anger, grief and sorrow at someone so gentle and sweet dying in such a harsh manner. Now, though, he realized that what she’d experienced didn’t compare to the dark scenes he’d imagined.
Now he understood why she’d felt abandoned by him. Christ. He’d felt as big and manly as a slug when she’d told him that little detail. She was on her way to see him. He blinked. The reason they were outside the house, and prey for that vampire, was because she was coming to see him. He’d fully intended to come visit her, had been hoping to sneak out of a charity event his father had roped him into, but his father had proved difficult to shake. So he’d stayed.
And Natalie had died.
He knew without a doubt that had he been there, things would have ended differently. Had he been there, she would have survived, and her parents, too—because she loved them and he would have seen to it.
If only he’d left the party... If only he’d told his father no in the first place... If only he’d treated her like the priority she was... If only...
What pained him the most, though, was that she now classed him in the same category as the monsters who’d killed her. She’d endured such pain, such horror, at the hands of his kind—God, no wonder she hadn’t invited him into her home that first night. No wonder she was reluctant to help him. No wonder she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. She didn’t trust him. She’d told him some of her story, but he would bet his ancestral home that that wasn’t all of it.
He’d called Heath while she’d slept in her room. He could tell she’d awoken from that tranquilizer in pain. He’d seen it in her movements, he’d seen it in her veins, the drug turning her circulatory system a light gray that had reverted to a warmer tone as she’d sat up and moved a little. Heath couldn’t explain it. No human had had that reaction in the testing phase, he’d said.
Natalie had flung him easily across the room. She had conversations with herself. Oh, she didn’t think he’d noticed, but he had. And he didn’t mean the cute tea-party-talking-teddy-bear sort of conversations he’d seen her do as a kid. No, he was talking a full-on chat fest with someone who wasn’t there. Was that a remnant from her traumatic experience? Hallucinations?
She shrugged off her pack and moved her shoulders under the light jacket she was wearing. He could see the sheen of perspiration on her forehead, despite the chill in the air. Yet she wasn’t out of breath. They’d covered far more terrain than he’d estimated and she’d been able to keep up with him.
She glanced over her shoulder, nodded and then turned back to him. “It’s not too far from here. Just a little further up the trail. I guess,” she ended hurriedly at his inquiring glance.
He nodded at the journal she held. “Is there a map in there?” He knew the answer, but he was hoping she’d explain some more things to him. She hadn’t referred to it once since they’d driven through Devil’s Leap. She hadn’t let him stop in the small town for directions, had just told him to keep driving. A small number of people had been in the streets, and all of them had stopped to watch his vehicle roll by. Nobody had smiled.
Damn creepy place.
And now he was climbing a mountain in the dark on the say-so of a woman who spoke with imaginary people.
She glanced at the journal, blinked as though surprised to see she still held it. “Uh, not a map, exactly. More like directions.”
Should he break it to her now that he knew she was lying? He’d gone through that book while she’d slept. Sure, there were journal entries about people going missing but there’d been no mention of a bunker. No mention of something that could be used on a vampire to neutralize the lycanthrope toxin, either.
Heath’s words came back to haunt him. Can you trust her?
He thought about that first time he’d seen her, sitting in that massive, reclining, single-lounge chair, her body so small and withered beneath the voluminous hospital gown she’d worn. Those big hazel-gray eyes staring up at him in greeting, only mildly startled by his appearance in the renal ward. What she’d done after that...
He sighed. Yes. He trusted her.
“Okay, then. Let’s go.” He reached for her pack but she shook her head, lifting it up to shrug into the shoulder straps. She started off, halted, then changed direction slightly.
“This way,” she said, and he let her lead. He was staring at her denim-clad butt and long legs, but at this rate, this might be the last time he had the opportunity to do so.
Twenty minutes later Natalie halted.
Lucien frowned. “What’s up?”
“We’re here.” She let the backpack drop from her shoulders and opened the top to shove the journal deep inside.
He glanced around. “Here?” He could see the trail kind of end in a wall of foliage and rock. He retreated a couple of steps, looking carefully about. It was just forest. Trees, bushes, creepy things rustling in the leaves and a light show between the dark and silver as clouds trailed across the moon.
“Here,” Natalie repeated. She pulled a sheath from within her backpack and removed the blade, and his eyes rounded as he stepped back. She had a damn machete.
“Whoa, minx.” He trusted her. He trusted her. He kept repeating the phrase over and over in his head as the moonlight caught the edge of the blade, causing it to gleam briefly. That knife could almost fell a damn tree.
Natalie shot him an exasperated look. “Don’t worry, Lucien. I know how to use this.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
She shook her head but didn’t quite manage to hide her smile from him as she turned to the foliage.
Minx.
He strode up to the branches of nettles and other bushes and started pulling at them. It was rough work and, after a few moments, he dropped his pack, shrugged out of his jacket and attacked the greenery with renewed vigor. It didn’t take long for Natalie to also slip out of her jacket.
Slowly, though, he could see what she was getting at. Behind the foliage, behind the branches with the nettles, what he’d originally thought was the rock face of the mountain proved to be a massive concrete door.
He stepped back to survey it. “How do we op—?”
“Here.” Natalie yanked back on a branch, the snap loud in the night forest. She revealed what appeared to be a large wheel lock.
He grimaced. It looked rusted.
Natalie started to pull on it. After a moment there was a low squeak. He crossed over to help her and the wheel creaked as it slowly started to sh
ift. He grunted, gripping at the wheel tightly, sweat beading his brow as he pulled down. The wheel shifted some more, protesting as it did.
Natalie growled softly as she put her shoulder against it, her face twisting with the effort, and the wheel creaked some more.
Lucien could feel his biceps bulging with the effort as he tore at the wheel until it gave way. He spun it gradually, until he heard a thunderous click inside.
Natalie halted, panting, and looked at him, excitement, anticipation and curiosity in her expression. She was looking at him in exactly the same way she had when he’d showed her the grotto on his family’s property. Just like then, he grinned back at her and winked, then hauled back on the door. The hinges groaned as decades of dirt and grime slid free and the gigantic door swung inward, just a little.
A cool breeze crept out to tease his hair; a blessed relief despite the cold night air. Clearing the door had been hot work. He stood next to Natalie and glanced at her briefly. Her blond hair was gilded platinum in the moonlight, her face bore dirty streaks where she’d absently brushed at perspiration, and her jeans and shirt were filthy.
She looked so damn gorgeous.
“We’re here.”
“Wherever ‘here’ is,” Lucien conceded. He felt like he was standing on a precipice, about to take that one step into the great unknown. Was Vivianne’s cure inside? Or would they find another clue? Or would it be a complete bust? He couldn’t remember the last time his blood thrilled at the uncertainty, at the newness of a situation.
She crossed to her pack and shrugged into it again, then strapped the sheath to her thigh and slid the machete inside. “Let’s go. We need to be back down the mountain by sun up.”
He sighed. Okay. No time for high-emotion moments.
She pulled the flashlight from the clip on the side of her pack as he shrugged on his gear. She walked through the doorway and he jogged to catch up with her.
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