“I told you before that all I’d seen of your memories was your killings,” she said, pulling her knees in closer to her chest. “But that isn’t true.”
An uneasy feeling slithered through his insides. “Spit it out, Raine.”
SHE SLID HIM A QUICK glance from the corner of her eye, then looked away again, staring across the shadowed expanse of the hotel room. “I, um, I actually saw you with a few women.”
“I thought you only focused on the killings.”
With a shrug, she said, “It’s not my fault if the first thing you did after most of your hunts was go out and get laid.”
He pushed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, then muttered an eloquent, “Shit.”
“You’re quite aggressive,” she added, watching him from beneath her lashes. “I mean, for a human male.”
His head shot up with a snap, eyes narrowed with a sharp, measuring gaze. “Know a lot about our sexual styles, do you?”
“A little,” she admitted with another shrug. “To be honest, I’ve only ever dated human men.”
His surprise was obvious. “Why’s that?”
“It’s no great mystery. Most of the men I work with are human.”
A frown wove its way between his brows. “Did they know what you are?”
“No.”
His voice got deeper, sounding a bit rougher to her ears. “Then I assume you didn’t feed from them.”
A wry smile touched the corner of her mouth. “Obviously.”
“And they weren’t…aggressive?”
“They were nice guys, but they were also hard-core academics. You’re intelligent, highly so, but for a human you’re also very in tune with your senses and your appetites. It probably comes from all the years you’ve spent as a hunter.”
“My latent animal instincts?” he asked, arching a brow.
“Something like that,” she agreed. “I’m guessing that’s why you fit in with the Watchmen so well.”
His head tilted a bit to the side as he studied her expression, her eyes. “And so you think…what? That I wouldn’t be able to control myself with you?”
It wasn’t easy, but Raine forced herself to give him the truth. “I think you’d want a certain level of intensity that I wouldn’t be able to handle. Not with a man who has your past. Not after everything that’s happened. It’s too much.”
“You know, for someone who keeps claiming to understand,” he argued, the gruff words thick with frustration, “you sure as hell seem to enjoy throwing the things I’ve done back in my face.”
“Just because I understand your reasons doesn’t mean I can handle your actions.”
He leaned his head back against the headboard, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Jesus, Raine. Haven’t you ever had regrets?”
Regrets? God, did she ever. Her mistakes had caused so much pain. If she hadn’t been so stubbornly determined to prove her independence, she would have accepted the private security her parents had wanted her to have in South America, and her sister wouldn’t have paid the price for her stupidity. Rietta had come to visit her while on Christmas break, and when Westmore’s men had attacked, she’d tried to get her to safety, but the young girl had been picked up not long after. And then Raine had gotten her killed.
“Of course I have regrets,” she whispered, “but it doesn’t change anything between us.”
He exhaled another rough breath, then ran a shaky hand over his eyes. “Look, I know I’ve made mistakes, and I’m man enough to own up to them. But I also know that a lot of the things I’ve done were necessary. So I’ve got to live with the good and the bad, Raine. I’ve got to accept that everything can’t be seen in black and white.”
God, he was good. She felt like he had her cornered, and she had to fight harder for air, her chest lifting with the panting force of her breaths. “That’s not fair, McConnell. You’re trying to simplify a situation that can’t be reduced to basics.”
“Sure it can.” The husky words crept lazily through the shadows, but were edged with steel. “You just don’t want to come out from behind all your excuses and face reality. You want to keep hiding, holding me at a distance, too afraid to let something good happen to you. God forbid, when you’re getting such a rush from this revenge business.”
“You’re being such a bastard!” she flung back at him, hating that he was turning this all around on her. “What is your problem, McConnell? Why are you doing this? Why me? You could have any woman you want. Easily.”
“How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want any other woman. I want you.”
She floundered, unable to understand why. “Are you… Is this some kind of game?”
“No game. I just want to find a way to make you smile.” The rough intensity of his voice made her shiver. “Not one of those baring-your-teeth-at-an-enemy smiles, either. I want to see the real thing, Raine. I want to see you smile because you can’t help yourself. Because you’re fucking happy, for once.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she rasped, shaking from the inside out.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he told her. “But there’s something that’s been drawing us together from the start. I just want to follow it through. See where it leads.”
“Come on, McConnell.” Her laughter was breathless, her pulse so loud it was roaring in her ears. “Where do you think it’s going to go? Sex is the only option, and I don’t think screaming orgasms are going to solve our problems.”
His eyes burned with that hot, familiar glow. “They might not solve anything, but God knows I’d enjoy them. I can’t think of anything that would be sweeter than making you come. Except maybe making you come with a smile. When I make that happen, I’ll consider myself the luckiest man alive.”
For a moment, Raine didn’t know what to say, her heart hammering, her breath all jammed up in her throat. She was so tempted, but knew she had to find a way to resist him. To keep her distance. “You’re just not thinking straight.” Her voice was cold, hard. “It’s like I told you before, I’m not some shot at redemption for you to grab on to.”
He looked away from her, and there was a twitch in his left brow. But he didn’t shout at her. He didn’t even look angry. Just…disappointed. “You know what? You need to think up some new arguments, Raine. It’s getting old hearing the same ones, over and over again.” He snatched up the shirt he’d left on his bedside table and jerked it over his head, then slid his long legs over the side of the mattress and moved to his feet. “But you have no right to get pissed just because I’m giving you that honesty you so sweetly demanded tonight.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, as he headed around the foot of the bed.
“I need a cold shower,” he replied, his tone flat, and anger flared through her system like it did whenever she didn’t know how to feel these days. Which seemed to be often.
“Then why did you put your shirt on?” she snapped, twisting around on the crumpled bedding so that she could follow him with her eyes, his ass looking absolutely deluxe in the worn denim. But then, everything on McConnell looked good. And by good she meant freaking mouthwatering.
He didn’t bother to respond to her, simply shutting the door to the bathroom behind him, and she just sat there huddled on the mattress, staring at that closed door as the hotel’s ancient water pipes began to rattle and hum. Taking a deep breath, she worked to get a handle on her raw emotions, unable to decide if she was going to curse or cry.
But he was right. She did want him. Even now, she couldn’t stop thinking about him standing beneath that hot spray of water, his long body naked and wet and slippery. Was he hoping she would join him? Was he taking himself in one of his big, bruised hands, his head back, muscles coiling and flexing beneath all that slick skin, wishing it was actually her hand holding him?
Oh…God.
Knowing she was twenty different kinds of fool, Raine had just slipped off the bed and started to move toward the bathroom doo
r, unsure whether she was going to keep yelling at him…or simply throw herself into his arms, when a vision suddenly flashed into her mind. It was hazy and distorted, like watching something on a TV channel with bad reception, but she could make out the woman’s beautiful face, killer bod and dark red hair.
“Damn it,” she moaned, holding her head in her hands, knowing damn well that she was “watching” Spark. The kill Raine had made that night must have been some kind of boost to her Alacea powers, because she could see the assassin moving around a hotel room, the location impossible to determine. Spark was checking her weapons, the gleaming pieces of deadly metal set out on a low coffee table, and Raine struggled to get into the human’s mind, but there was too much interference. All she could make out was her own name. The assassin was thinking about her, which probably meant that Spark had been given a new assignment.
McConnell was right. They’re coming after me.
If she continued on her current course, the odds were high that they would find her. Then it would become a race to see who could succeed first: her or them. And if she stayed with McConnell, he would be in even more danger than he was now.
To be on the hunt was one thing, but she couldn’t allow McConnell to become one of the hunted. Which meant there was only one thing to do.
Raine had already resigned herself to losing her own life—but she wasn’t willing to throw the human’s away so easily. And if she was doing this to protect him, then it wasn’t breaking the Oath. Or at least that’s what she told herself. The Court might look at it differently, but she doubted Seth was going to walk before the Deschanel elders to lodge an official complaint.
Steeling herself to the decision, Raine threw on her jeans, sweater and boots, then stuffed her sweats and the tank into her bag. Doing a quick glance around the room to make sure she’d gotten everything, she spotted his pocket knife sitting on the bedside table—the same one he used whenever he cut open his arm to collect blood for her—and quickly rushed over to grab it, sliding the knife into her pocket. It was petty to steal something of the human’s, but damn it, she needed it. If she was never going to see him again, she wanted something to remind her of him. Something tangible and real that she could hold in her hand.
Don’t go, a voice whispered inside her mind. Stay with him.
The voice of temptation? Must be, because staying was exactly what she wanted to do. But it was only going to benefit her. There was nothing good in this for McConnell. Even if she didn’t get him killed, he’d probably come to hate himself for getting involved with a vamp. So she was doing the right thing by leaving.
She knew that. Believed it.
But as she shut the door to their room behind her, Raine wished it didn’t feel so wrong.
CHAPTER TEN
STRANGE, HOW THE SENSE of relief, of freedom, that Raine had assumed she would feel after running never came. It’d been nearly an hour since she’d bailed on McConnell, but she felt even more trapped than before, as if there was a rush of darkness closing in on her, squashing her down. With every step she took, she became more certain that she’d made a critical error in judgment. After all, she knew that Seth’s fighting skills were legendary. He might be human, but he was a human that the other species feared. So, then why had she run? Was she just using her vision of Spark as an excuse to put distance between her and McConnell because she didn’t trust herself? Didn’t trust that she’d stick to her bloodthirsty agenda if she allowed herself to keep falling for the complicated, compelling soldier. And she was definitely falling for him.
Had she turned away from McConnell because she knew it would have been impossible to hold on to the hatred fueling her strength if she allowed that “something good” he’d talked about to happen to her? Was that why, since the moment he’d tracked her down in Paris, she’d been doing her best to throw all those obstacles between them, lobbing them like emotional grenades?
Raine didn’t know the answer—but the reason didn’t matter, when the result was the same. She had run…and now she was on her own, just like she’d been before. But it didn’t feel the same. The night seemed darker, the air colder. And she was…damn it, she was lonely.
She missed McConnell.
But you made this bed, she muttered to herself. It was your choice. So stop complaining.
Determined to follow that grim advice, Raine kept walking, block after block, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood.
Since she wasn’t wearing a watch or carrying a cell phone, she wasn’t sure of the time, but finally decided to head back to one of the main roads and grab a taxi to the airport, hoping distance from the human might help her to think more clearly. Taking a deep breath, she’d just started to turn around, when something suddenly crashed into her consciousness, like a knife that’d been hurled from the shadows. Or more like a mental wrecking ball, the episode significantly more intense than when she’d “seen” Spark in the hotel room. Dropping to her knees on the cold sidewalk, Raine held her head in her hands, while a boy’s voice called out to her, begging for help.
Scared, that small voice whispered. Don’t want to… Not again… Isn’t there anyone who can help me?
Lowering her hands, Raine forced herself to her feet and turned in a slow circle as she cast out her senses, searching for a clue that would lead her to the boy. She stumbled forward, but his voice became weaker, so she headed back the other way, her feet moving faster as the voice became louder in her mind.
His name was Thomas and he was almost twelve, she realized, hiking her backpack higher on her shoulder as she threw herself headfirst into the psychic pull that was drawing her toward him. Into him. He was a stranger, someone she’d never met before, and yet, his mind was open to her in a way that reminded Raine of how her powers had worked before Westmore had captured her. She could see him so clearly. So much fear and pain and loneliness.
He wasn’t a human child, but a Deschanel vampire, like Raine’s father. He was also an orphan, his parents killed by the Collective during a family vacation when he was only five. Thomas had managed to survive because his mother had forced him to hide beneath a pile of dirty towels in the hotel’s laundry room before the Collective had found her. His memories of his parents were hazy, but Raine could see that they’d been from warring families, and after their deaths his relatives had shunned the young boy. He’d lived on the streets ever since, scrounging for food, his Deschanel strength the only thing that had kept him alive, whereas a human child would never have made it.
Following those wrenching, silent pleas for help, Raine wove deeper into the heart of the city, no longer paying attention to the street names, her entire being focused on following the sound of Thomas’s voice.
And then she found him.
She was standing in a small, cramped alley set between two run-down apartment buildings and blocked by a high, barbed-wire fence at the back. Two foul-smelling Dumpsters were wedged against the fence, the boy hiding between them, his back to the rusty metal. There was barely enough room for his slender body in the narrow space, a single shaft of moonlight illuminating his frail form…and the object of his panic.
Lying on the ground before the Dumpsters was the unconscious body of a homeless woman in her late twenties, her mouth hanging open, clothes as tattered as Thomas’s, her chest moving with slow, shallow breaths. Looking into the boy’s mind, Raine could see that he’d been napping in that small space, only to awaken and find the drunken woman blocking his exit. And that’s when the hunger had slammed into him, scraping him raw inside. He’d been trying to fight it for hours, not wanting to hurt her. But it was so hard…and he was so hungry and cold. He knew her blood could warm his belly for a little while, that it could take away the pain twisting his guts into knots, but he was trying so hard to fight it.
I don’t want to be a monster, he whispered to himself, over and over. Don’t want to be a killer.
The child was so focused on the sleeping woman, on fighting his internal battle, he hadn�
��t even noticed Raine was there. Keeping her voice as gentle as possible, she said, “Thomas, don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He jerked at the sound of her voice, pressing harder against the fence at his back, his eyes huge in the silvery moonlight as he stared up at her. Those big gray eyes reminded Raine of her little brother, Luke, and she wondered if this was how Luke had looked when he’d been Westmore’s prisoner. Had he been this frightened? This pale?
After Westmore had taken Raine and Rietta hostage, her parents had sent Luke into hiding with relatives, hoping to protect him. But Westmore had managed to find the boy, and after Rietta had been killed, Westmore had threatened to torture Luke, as well, if Raine didn’t tell him the location of the next Marker. But she’d had no information to give him, since Saige Buchanan hadn’t yet decoded the next map, and so Raine had tempted the Kraven with information that he wanted about a rogue Casus named Gregory DeKreznick. Then she’d refused to share what she knew until he’d released her brother—and it had worked. Luke was now in Rome with her parents, and though he was still traumatized by Rietta’s loss and his own captivity, he was slowly returning to normal, acting more like a carefree little boy every day.
Raine only hoped there was a way to save Thomas, as well.
“Who are you?” the child croaked, shaking, his teeth chattering as she lowered her backpack to the ground and slowly inched forward, moving deeper into the alley.
“My name is Raine, and I’m part vampire, like you, and part psychic,” she told him, crouching down until she could grab the homeless woman’s ankle and pull her to the side, wedging her against one of the buildings. With that done, she edged closer to Thomas, giving him a tentative smile. “My psychic powers help me to see inside your mind, so I know what you’ve been through…and what you’re afraid of. I want to help you.”
“You…can’t,” he whispered, his hunger rising, fighting against the hope that wanted to bloom inside him.
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