“How did you get away?”
“He got bored with me, and let me go.” She shrugged and returned to stare at the window. “He’d already turned me. Broke me. Made me into a monster. What more fun could he have with me?”
The words, so flatly spoken, ripped a hole in him. Crossing the room to stand near her, he pulled her back against his body and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Syl… you’re not a monster.”
“You don’t know what he made me do.” Sylvia bowed her head, staring at the floor. “You don’t know what I let myself do…”
Was it any worse than what he would have done? he wondered.
“I was a teenager when I was bitten.” He turned her around and lifted her chin, stared into her eyes as he spoke. “Five weres attacked me.”
In the mirror, he saw her blink, watched as her face went blank, then watched as understanding bled into her eyes. “Did you say five weres?”
“Yeah. Five. They left me dead in an alley, my head split— brain scrambled.” He shrugged and added, “The years before that are lost to me. I don’t know who I was. What I was. If I had family… none of it. The woman who found me was a Hunter. And the first thing I did after she saved my life, nursed me through the fever, all of that…? I tried to rip her throat out.”
“Five—” She shook her head, her tone faint. “I didn’t think it was possible to survive if more than a couple bit you. The virus is too high.”
“If I hadn’t had pretty much the strongest healer around on hand to nurse me through it, I wouldn’t have made it.” He shrugged. “And when the fevers got bad, she was still there. When I almost went mad from it all and tried to eat her? She was still there.”
“You tried to eat her.”
He grimaced. “It was driving me mad— the hunger, the need for meat. That was what she was— I looked at her and saw meat. It lasted for months. And she stayed with me anyway. And then one day… it was easier, I could breathe, I could think. The next day, it got better, and then the next…”
He shrugged, staring at the wall past her shoulder without seeing it. “Eventually the good days outweighed the bad and I no longer looked at every breathing thing as a possible meal. I could control the hunger. But if it wasn’t for Nessa, I wouldn’t have pulled through. I was on the edge of turning feral— the madness was trying to eat me up inside from almost the minute I was attacked. If she hadn’t been there to help me through it, I would have been put down.” He reached up and touched her cheek, stroking the pads of his fingers along the soft, silken skin. “You didn’t have anybody there to guide you— you were locked up, made a prisoner, tortured… and you pulled through sane. You’re not a monster, baby.”
N
OT a monster—
She wanted to believe that.
But she couldn’t.
Curling her lip at him, she knocked his hand away and turned back to the mirror. “You pulled through because you’re destined to be a tried-and-true do-gooder. That’s why you pulled through, Hunter. Me? It was just luck, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a monster.” In the mirror’s reflection, she met his gaze and asked softly, “What if I told you I’d killed a child? If I told you that my maker threw some poor, stupid kid in there and I killed him? Would you still say I’m not a monster?”
“I’d say it’s a miracle you didn’t snap completely— he’d starved you.” Toronto shrugged. “Then I’d ask if he’d made the child bleed first— if he’d pushed you to bloodlust first, all he did was aim a pointed gun and pull the trigger. He made you into a weapon and used it. You stopped giving him control all those years ago. Don’t give it back, not even to a memory.”
She stared at him. “Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded. “I killed a child! Fuck, you’re a Hunter, you ought to just kill me now.”
“I heard you.” He came up and dipped his head, murmured in her ear, “You’re not the first vamp who was pushed into bloodlust. The question is this… did you learn to control it? Yes. You did. So you can’t be controlled anymore. Will you let that bloodlust control you again? I think the answer is no. We don’t kill because of one break, especially when somebody was tortured. We go after killers, monsters and murderers. We don’t go after victims, unless the victims have become monsters themselves.”
He nudged her aside and started poking around the mirror. “Since you’re feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll go downstairs and look around. Then I’m heading out. I’ve got an idea of where we need to go now.”
F
EELING sorry for myself—
She watched, her jaw hanging open, as he fiddled around with the mirror. “Jackass,” she muttered. “I’ll do it. You’re not even clo—”
The door opened with a whisper.
As he shot her a look, she glared at him and then pushed past him. “I’ll have you know, I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”
Jerk. Who in the hell did he think he was?
That burn of anger managed to carry her all the way down the stairs. But once she reached the lower floor, she froze. Cells. Rows of them. Each one not much bigger than a closet… and each one had bars in place of a door. “I guess he’s into the retro look,” she said quietly.
“Looks like a dungeon.”
“It is.” She closed her eyes, recalling the endless nights, the hunger, the pain. “It looks like the place where I was made. It was a dungeon as well. Although sometimes I was certain it would be my crypt.”
“It wasn’t. This one won’t be.” He stroked a hand over her shoulder and then surveyed the room. “And I can make sure of that. I’m going to have the place torched.”
“Torched?”
“Yeah.” He paced around, eyes half-closed, as he breathed the air in. “People died here. He brought victims here, bled them, killed them… and he made a vampire here, too. You smell that?”
“So you’re burning it.”
“Not me. That would be too fucking dangerous. I’ll have the Council send a witch, somebody who can bring the fire, then shut it down before it spreads past the house. Whoever built this place won’t ever use it again.” He turned and looked at her. “So get what you need from here— look around, if you need closure. Hell, if you want to trash the place or go punch that fucking mirror, do it. Do it fast. We need to get on the road.”
She clenched her jaw, tempted to tell him to shove it. What if she needed more time?
We don’t have time…
Taking a deep breath, she turned and studied each cell, walked in front of them. There— she smelled that faint scent. Death, then the faintly stronger scent of vampire. The second vampire she’d smelled earlier. She hadn’t caught that. Yeah, a new vampire— she could still smell the scent of him as a mortal.
“While I’m totally flattered that this has you so hot under the collar, have you forgotten we have a monster to catch?” she asked him as she finished her circuit around the room, coming to a halt in front of him.
“No.” Stroking his hands down her shoulders, he lowered his head, pressed his brow to hers. “There’s a connection between all of this… Angel wouldn’t have brought you here if there wasn’t. She wants Pulaski found, the same as we do. And I was already thinking there was a connection.”
She frowned and looked back around the cell. “A connection between this place and Pulaski?” What in the hell was he… wait. Shit. No. Shit. Staring at the cell, she whispered, “Can you tell how long ago the vampire was made here?”
“Not long. No more than a month, I don’t think.”
She met his eyes.
“Right about when Pulaski went missing.” She closed her eyes. The ankle bracelet had been found broken…“A vampire could easily break the ankle bracelet they put on him.”
“Yes.”
“Shit.” The monster that was her fury started to roar inside her head as she thought about what vampirism could do to somebody who was already a monster. Already terrible and perverse. “If he was made into a vampire…”
“Then
we find him and kill him.” Toronto lifted a brow. “That’s all there is to it. You wanted him dead anyway— this just makes it that much more urgent. We need to go. Are you done?”
With the bitter wave of fury and fear riding her, she turned in a slow circle, studying the underground room. It would have been hell, she knew. People would have died here, knowing this was the last thing they’d see— that nobody was coming for them, that nobody would save them.
“Angel said there was something here I needed to see. I don’t know if this is it, or if there’s more.” Stopping, she stared toward the cell where the vamp had been made. “All I’m finding are bad memories. I don’t see anything that will help me find Pulaski.”
She didn’t tell you that you’d find Pulaski, something inside her whispered. She just said you’d find something…
Yeah. She’d found something all right. A reminder of hell on earth. Setting her jaw, she turned to look at Toronto. He wasn’t looking at her, though. He was staring off at nothing in particular, a distant look on his face.
“Don’t worry. I already know where to look.”
CHAPTER 20
S
HE woke to hear screaming—
Rolling off the bed, she landed in a crouch. A bed— wait, what? She hadn’t fallen asleep on a bed— she’d fallen asleep next to one, shielded from the rays of light that might come in through the curtains.
What the hell? Fuck it. She already had a blade in her hand and was staring around, trying to get her bearings.
The bed made sense— she was in a hotel room. And it definitely wasn’t the hotel she’d fallen asleep in earlier. It was nicer, for one. And cleaner. Newer. Louder—
It had that fake rustic thing going and was a little nicer than some, but still a hotel room. And the screaming was coming from just outside the windows. Unconsciously, a snarl pulled her lips back from her teeth and her fangs slid down. Rising, she made her way to the windows. Faint light streamed in from underneath, but it was faint. Her internal clock told her that it was still day. The sun was still up, although not for long.
Easing the curtain aside, she flinched as she saw the light pouring in through skylights. Her eyes watered at the brightness, but it was indirect— she could do indirect light. What in the world…
Suddenly, the screams made sense.
Screams. Laughter. The air was heavy with the scent of chlorine, burgers, pizza.
A water park. Somehow, Toronto had managed to get her to one of those weird water-park hotels. With a frown, she turned back and studied the room. The only windows were the ones at her back, opening up not to the outside where direct sunlight could pour into the room and leave her with a nice, crispy burn, but to the water park. No direct sunlight.
She didn’t remember getting here, but she wouldn’t.
They’d stopped driving about twenty minutes before dawn. It had been one of those little cheap, roadside motels, the kind of place she hated and tried to avoid, because she was never sure she’d be safe there.
But she’d been fine staying there with him. Because she knew she was safe with him.
She checked the time. It was after seven. She didn’t have that weird, unsettled feeling that she sometimes had when her sleep had been disturbed or when she hadn’t been able to settle for fear of the sun.
Hearing something at the door, she turned just as he opened it. In one hand, he held a box of pizza. She eyed the pizza enviously. Those things always smelled so good. She could swipe a small taste of the sauce, but anything more than that would make her sick.
He lifted a brow at her. “You’re awake.”
“Nah. Just sleepwalking. Dreaming about pizza and big hotels. Because I’m pretty sure I went to sleep in a rinky-dink one.” Spying the water on the table tucked up against one wall, she went and grabbed herself a bottle. She needed to feed. Water would help the thirst, but she really needed to feed.
She barely managed to twist the cap off before he was there.
“You probably need to feed, don’t you?”
Wrinkling her nose, she brushed around him. “I’m pretty sure mind reading is a vampire thing, not a wolf thing.”
“Hey, some of the close-knit packs can sense each other’s thoughts. It’s not really mind reading, but it’s pretty close.” He came up behind her, one arm sliding around her waist as he draped the other arm around her upper body.
Sylvia sighed and rested her head back against his shoulder. It should have felt stifling, to be held like that. Pinned back against his body. Instead she felt… wanted. Treasured. His lips brushed against her temple and he murmured, “You didn’t feed that heavily from me the other day. Have you fed well recently?”
“It’s been a few days. I’ll find somebody tonight before we—”
He lifted his hand, exposing his wrist. “I’m somebody.”
“You don’t need to feed me.” Even thinking about it had her fangs pulsing. Staring at his skin, at the faint tracery of veins underneath, she willed herself not to move, not to breathe. It would be so easy to get used to this…
“I like doing it. You need it. I kind of like taking care of you, when you let me.” His blond head lowered to her neck and he nuzzled her there, whispered, “Besides, it also makes me hotter than hell. Why don’t you make me hotter than hell, Syl?”
“Don’t call me Syl.” Still staring at his wrist, she tried to think of reasons not to do this. Other than how easy it would be to get used to it. It wouldn’t hurt him. Wolves healed too fast, and that included blood. She’d have to drain him half-dry before it would do him much damage, and vampires just didn’t need that much.
Slicking her tongue across her lips, she dipped her head, pressed her mouth to his wrist. She couldn’t think of one good, solid reason that wasn’t an excuse. It wouldn’t hurt him, she needed to feed… and he wanted to do it.
“You’re getting too easy to have around, Hunter,” she muttered, as she stroked her tongue across his skin.
Salty. Warm. Male.
A low, rough growl rolled through the air. Tension spiked. The arm he had wrapped around her waist stroked downward, resting on her hip. Kneading the flesh there, he nudged himself against her and said, “You’re the only person I’ve ever known who’s ever called me easy to have around.”
She laughed and then, forgetting about everything else, sank her teeth into his flesh.
H
E’D fed vamps more times than he could recall.
It wasn’t his favorite thing to do, but he’d lived for more than a century. For close to nine decades, he’d served as a Hunter— years he’d spent with vamps. Vamps, just like weres, just like witches, could get hurt. When a vamp got hurt, the vamp had to feed. Although he was an ass of the highest degree, he wasn’t going to let a fellow Hunter suffer if he could help.
Up until Sylvia, feeding was generally just a responsibility… and on rare occasion, something he’d indulge in with a lover.
With Sylvia, though… he could come to crave it. It could become a need…
The feel of her tongue brushing against his flesh, just before her fangs pierced his skin. Then the pleasure—
Growling, he buried his face against her hair and rocked his hips against the scrap of silk that covered her butt. He’d stripped her jeans away when he’d put her to bed and now he was damn glad. Pushing his fingers inside her panties, he sought out the slick heat between her thighs. She stiffened and then sagged, her mouth still pulling on the wound at his wrist.
When her fangs pierced his skin a second time, he grunted and pulled his hand out from her panties, tearing at the silk until it shredded under his hands. “You…” She lifted her head.
“Don’t stop,” he muttered, catching sight of her flushed face in the mirror hanging across the room. “That feels almost as good as it did when I fucked you.”
“You tore my panties,” she muttered, lowering her head back to his wrist. She licked at the closing wounds like a cat.
“Yeah.
I can buy you more. Do it again.” He nudged his wrist closer to her mouth as he used his foot to bump one of her ankles over, widening her stance.
“You want me to drain you dry or what?” She laughed, teasing his skin with the tip of one fang.
“You won’t.” He reached between them and tore at his zipper, at the button of his jeans, swearing when his fingers seemed to get too damned clumsy on him. Finally, he managed, and the cool kiss of air on his aching flesh was almost torture. Then it was torture as Sylvia continued to play with him, taunting the skin inside his wrist with her teeth and tongue.
“Witch,” he rasped.
It wasn’t until he pressed the head of his cock against her that she stopped toying with him. As he pierced the snug, wet heat of her sheath, she pierced him… driving her fangs deep as he drove his cock straight into her core. She shuddered while he fought against the howl building in his throat. Not here— fuck. Not here. One hand flexed, shifted and he swore as he saw the black flaring on the tips of his fingers.
He didn’t lose control like that. Not unless he felt like it. Sucking in a desperate breath of air, he grabbed the ragged bits of his control— waited until he thought he could move without shattering.
And then he started to rock, stroking her slowly. The slick wet tissues of her sheath gripped him, milked him. Sylvia twisted against him, rolling her hips backwards.
With a shudder, Sylvia pulled her mouth from his wrist and dropped her head back against his shoulder. The soft moan that fell from her lips made his heart race, and the look in her eyes had something deep inside him twisting almost painfully.
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