Bite Me (Blood Chord Book 2)

by Alex Owens

  Bonus: It would be hard as hell to kill someone by screwing them to death.

  “And I’m supposed to thank you for that?” I was not ready to forgive the ruse. I couldn’t let him off that easy.

  Clive leaned back against the wall, a bit of his swagger shining through.

  “One would think so. It’s been a while since I gave a woman a proper shagging. The past few decades I’ve been more of a lay-back-and-wait sort of vampire.”

  I shot him an incredulous look.

  “What? There are a finite number of ways to accomplish sex. After a few centuries even reverse cowgirl gets boring.”

  “Well if sex is boring, you haven’t been doing it right; or doing it with the wrong people.” Snarky-me was making a comeback.

  “Obviously.” A faraway look crossed his face and I wondered what he was thinking about, right before I realized the conversation was taking a too-personal turn. It was bad enough I’d screwed him, I’d be damned if I’d actually start to like the bastard.

  I had to distance myself from the damned Triad, yet again. So what if their meddling had proved helpful this time. Every time I got involved with them things got so convoluted that I didn’t know which way was up.

  Thanks to my unknown Empathic abilities, most of the decisions I’d made over the course of my life were in question, but now with my abilities harnessed, I did not like feeling indecisive. Ambivalence had no place in my current life.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Her voice broke the silence, grating on my heightened senses.

  Fabulous, the bitch was back.

  Crystal stood at the base of the stairs with her hands on her hips, pouting. She lifted her nose into the air and inhaled. “Idiot! You were supposed to kill her, not fuck her!”

  It was clear then, that while Clive and Crystal had conspired against me—there had been two plans in the works, not one. While Clive wanted to help me (and screw me, yes) I’d be willing to bet that Crystal had been counting on my demise.

  Why did she hate me so much? Until a couple of days ago, I didn’t know she existed, so how in the hell had I pissed her off bad enough to warrant my own bloody death?

  I felt the connection with Clive flex and he stood at my side before I had time to register the cord pulse. With my shields still down, I felt every ounce of emotion coming from the two of them. From Crystal, pure, un-cut rage boiled toward me, like lava rolling down a mountain. Oddly enough, it felt a lot like the crippling feeling I’d experienced out on the dock that night.

  It had been her, watching me. She’d been right there and could have fed me to the sharks or whatever. Danger had been seconds away and hadn’t known. I rubbed my arms with that knowledge.

  Next to me, Clive put off a mix of things. He was angry, sure, but under that he was disappointed and sad.

  “Why?” was all he said, looking at Crystal with a face that belied no emotions. She gave him a look back and I had to wonder if I was missing something. Were they speaking telepathically? Bette had done that with me once upon a time, so it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility.

  My suspicions were confirmed when a spike of disgust leaked from Clyde’s thoughts.

  “I don’t know how I missed this,” he said to himself, running his hand through his hair.

  “I can tell you how...” she spat. “For months, all I’ve had to listen to is Claire this and Claire that. It’s like you came home from that stupid trip a different man. Or just a man, weak and pathetic. Whatever this tramp,” she flung her hand in my direction. “Whatever she did to you, you are not the same Vampire that I’ve served for one hundred and seventy seven years.”

  I started to take a step forward, but Clive grabbed me by the arm, holding me back. I hissed at him, baring my fangs. She had to go.

  “Easy, you don’t want to do that,” he said.

  I turned to face him and ignored the smug look on Crystals face. “Yes, I do.”

  Well, I didn’t want to do it but I knew it had to be done. Granted, the only life I’d ever taken was that psychopath at the mall. And while it had been a necessary evil, the moment made my stomach roll even now. Still, I knew what was in Crystal’s heart—not that she had one, but you know what I mean. She would kill me at some point and she was just twisted enough to try and torture me first—probably by hurting my family and friends.

  So you see, I didn’t have a choice. I’d do what had to be done, regardless of the impact on my dwindling soul. I shot Clive a deadly look. Back off, it said.

  He released my arm and put his hands up in contrition. “Okay, have it your way. But first...”

  I hesitated for one split second, to see how Clive was going to finish that sentence and poof! One second he was standing in front of me and the next I was looking at an empty wall. Where the hell did he go?

  A wet slurping noise drew my attention to the stairs. I turned and gasped.

  Clive stood there over Crystal’s body. In his outstretched hand was a bloody lump, her heart I assumed, judging by the giant hole in her chest and the blood pooling around her body.

  My fangs twitched at the crimson stain as it spread. It wasn’t hunger, but habit.

  “What? Why?” I stammered.

  Clive was silent and still as a statue. He only stared at the heart in his hand like he expected it to start beating again at any second. Finally, after an uncomfortable silence he tossed the heart beside the body and picked up a rag from the nearby workbench.

  “Because it had to be done.” He wiped at his hands with the rag and positioned himself between me and the body, blocking my view of it.

  “But why did you do it?” I asked.

  Clive’s face tightened, “For you. So you wouldn’t have to. My hands are already stained from years of living this life.”

  He stepped close and took my hands in his own, “You deserve a chance to remain unblemished as long as possible.”

  I was stunned by gesture. What he had done, for me... I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I wanted to protest. I was far from innocent, that much I knew. But I supposed there was some difference in what I’d done so far and what I’d been about to do. It was a small line, but one that he’d kept me from crossing—at least for a little while longer.

  “Thank you, then.” I gave his hands a squeeze and backed away. I could see the body again and I pointed at it. “What am I going to do with that?”

  “Forget about her. I will take care of it.” He held out his hand to me. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  I took his hand and let him guide me around the body at the base of the stairs. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget seeing it there. No chalk outline needed. So much for my unmarred haven of a home.

  We reached the landing on the main floor and I slammed the door to the basement shut. Standing awkwardly in the hallway, I felt my two worlds collide—the normal with the dark and dangerous. It was not a pleasant feeling.

  Clive shuffled from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable as well. I’m sure he didn’t spend much time in a normal house with pile of laundry and children’s toys scattered about.

  I checked the clock on the wall, not sure what time of day it was. “Come on, I need some fresh air.”

  I led the way outside and over to my favorite spot for thinking—the tree that had come down during a storm within the first week of us being in the house. After a particularly self-depreciating mood, I’d stopped to brood by it early one morning and had been using it as a place to retreat to whenever I had the need.

  Since then I hadn’t had the heart to cut it up and haul off the logs. It was the perfect vantage spot to gaze out into the creek and beyond, to the mouth of the bay. I needed that brand of solace at the moment. I took a seat and Clive joined me.

  “I know why you did it, but not why you did it.” I finally said.

  He sighed beside me. “She was with me for a very long time. Early on, we had a thing, but that waned decades ago. I thought she was well over it, but she was no
t, apparently.”

  I wasn’t sure what that all had to do with me, but my lack of a response kept me silent. Instead I watched a pair of bats swooping over the mosquito-filled marsh grasses. Their black bodies were a blur against the inky night sky.

  Clive cleared his throat and continued. “I’d grown so used to her calculating, cold personality that it didn’t occur to me that underneath that was another layer she kept hidden from everyone. To her, you were a threat that she would eliminate at all costs. She wouldn’t listen to me on that, even under direct order. She would have hurt you eventually and I could not allow that, however much the alternative pained me.”

  His voice was raw and dark, so much emotion contained within each word that it broke my heart just a little to listen to him. This was a road that should have been left untraveled.

  “Well, what’s done is done... and I’m sorry that you had to,” I stood and thrust my hands in my pockets. “You know, do that.”

  “Right.” Clive stood and looked around. “I’ve got a few calls to make. If you’ll give me a few hours with your house, I’ll have it good as new. Okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll just grab my purse and be out of your way.” I saluted him and started walking back to the house. About half way there, I turned and saw that Clive’s back turned to me. He looked out over the sparkling dark water in silence. I was going to thank him again, but instead I decided to grab my keys and put some quick distance between myself, Clive, and the bloody mess downstairs.

  Somehow I knew that when I returned home in the morning he would be gone, as would any evidence of the past few day’s activities, and I had my suspicions that it would be a good long while before I saw him again too. You’d think those thoughts would have comforted me, but I took no solace at all in them.

  I was ready for things to get back to normal—whatever “normal” meant these days.

  Chapter Twenty

  Most of my life is spent exercising bits of irony.

  Take for instance, the amount of time I spend washing dishes each day, despite that fact I never use any of them myself. That’s what I was doing a few days later when Morgan breezed into the great room announcing I had a visitor.

  I grumbled under my breath. I’d had enough of people dropping in for a while. Lately, the odds of visitors bringing trouble were astronomically high. I needed to get a guard dog or something. Or I could just hire my neighbors.

  Yeah, that’s where my mind was at the moment—squarely in the land of Bitchville, population—one.

  “Uh, Claire?” Morgan snapped me out of my stupid, petty thoughts.

  I turned with a scowl on my face, but as soon as I saw the person standing at the end of my island, I squealed like an honest-to-goodness teenager. And yes, I am ashamed of that fact.

  “Cass!” I dropped the dish I’d been scrubbing back into the soapy water, grabbed a towel to dry my hands and scurried to greet her.

  “Oh my goddess, I’ve missed you!” I hugged Cassidy with a touch too much joy.

  “Ummph. Easy there tiger,” she grunted as I twirled her in a wide circle. “Too tight!”

  Oops! I eased my hold on her. It wouldn’t do to break my best friend, no, not at all.

  I set her back down and held her out at arm’s reach. “Look at you. Showing up at my house out of the blue. Not that I’m not glad to see you, of course.”

  She was the same ginger-haired goddess I remembered from the trip to Florida. So wholesome that she practically glowed. Her skin was smooth and pale, her eyes were greener than any field in Ireland and her hair was a fiery mass of ringlets. She was dressed in a free-flowing sundress covered in intricate embroidered symbols.

  Runes, my inner-mind supplied. I briefly wondered how I knew that, but dismissed the errant thought quickly.

  Cassidy’s eyes sparkled with things unsaid. “Well, you know I’m a free spirit. Going where the wind blows and all that.”

  I wasn’t buying it, but I decided to give her time. Cassidy was nothing if not up-front. Whatever had brought her to my house would be said soon enough.

  “Where are your bags?” I smiled and changed the subject.

  “In the car,” she smiled, free and easy. “I’ve already reserved a room at a fabulous sounding B&B in a town nearby. I think it’s called Onancock?”

  I giggled at her pronunciation of the quaint little town about 10 minutes away. She’d done what most people did, called it Ah-nan-COCK. Emphasis on the cock.

  “Nope, that just won’t do.” I shook my head and smiled. “How in the world will we ever catch up if you’re holed up in a room miles away? Nope, you’ll stay here.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Morgan’s face twist. She was thinking it was a bad idea, I’m sure. I couldn’t blame her. It probably wasn’t the brightest idea, having a houseguest who’d be privy to my little predilections.

  I winked at Morgan to let her know it would be fine. She shook her head slightly and volunteered to bring Cass’s bags into the guest room. As soon as she was gone, I asked Cassidy if she was hungry or wanted something to drink.

  “Nope, I’m good. I could use the restroom though, if you’ve got one?” she asked.

  “Well, I usually make Morgan and Quinn go in the bushes outside, but this being a special occasion and all, I could make an exception for you.” I deadpanned.

  “How big of you,” Cass laughed.

  I pointed toward the hallway. “First door on the left.”

  She slapped me on the arm on the way by and I went back to my constant pile of dishes.

  The absolute moment the notes echoed through the house, my blood ran colder than it already was. I dropped the plate in my hand and ran down the hall toward my office, reaching the door before the ceramic shards ricocheted around the kitchen floor in my wake.

  As I pushed open the door, I froze. I was not prepared to deal with what I saw. Not at all.

  Quinn sat cross-legged in front of my open closet door. A large box lay empty beside her, and in her hands she cradled the cursed violin. Holding it under her chin carefully, the tiny bow vibrated over the strings under the guidance of her perfect little hands.

  She was playing the damned thing.

  And like fateful moment when I’d been entranced by the violin in Florida, Quinn’s song was dancing around the room in ribbons of colors. Pale pink, lavender, baby-chick yellow. The room smelled of daffodils.

  “Quinn! What are you doing? Put that down!” I crossed the room and snatched the instrument away from her, my thoughts only on the violin and what playing it did to me. Not my Quinn. No, over my dead body would she be pulled into the disturbed world I’d landed in.

  I instantly regretted my knee-jerk reaction.

  Quinn flinched away from me and her eyes started to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  Her voice trembled as she stood, keeping her gaze on the floor. “I was looking for my ball and I heard something. Like talking. And I heard my name so I walked around and listened, and then I found the box and I had to open it. I just had to. And it was so pretty I had to touch it, and then I played it. I just played it. I’m... sorry.”

  Quinn flopped on the floor in a heap, crying her little heart out. Given my life-status, I already knew I wouldn’t be winning mother of the year any time soon, but in that moment I felt crappier than pig poop on a white carpet.

  I carefully laid the violin on my desk. I’d deal with that thing later, most likely by boxing it up and sending it back to Bette with a nasty message, but for the moment Quinn was the priority.

  Gingerly, I sat beside my heartbroken child, gathered her in my arms and held her tight. I smoothed her hair and rocked her back and forth until her wails turned to quiet, uneven sobs.

  “Shhh, baby. Don’t cry,” I whispered into her ear. “I’m not mad, not really.”

  “I know,” she said, timidly.

  “Well then, why are you crying, silly girl?” I responded.

  “Because,” Quinn said, looking up
to me with big blue eyes. “I want to cry.”

  I quirked my eyebrow up, confused. “Why do you say that?”

  Her eyes brightened as she looked past me. “It was just so beautiful. Didn’t you see it?”

  “I did,” my own eyes misted over and I began to cry right alongside my child.

  I did see it. And I’d seen it before. It was beautiful, and haunting and could have meant so many things—none of which I wanted for her. I cried for myself. I cried for Quinn.

  And then I cried some more for the scary unknown of things to come, for both of us.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “What was that all about?” Cassidy said as I made my way back to the kitchen some twenty minutes later. She had taken a seat at the breakfast bar and was snacking on an apple so bright red that it looked fake, like a prop from a movie.

  “What? Oh, my daughter was playing with something in my office that she shouldn’t have.” I grabbed the broom and dustpan out of the closet to clean up the broken plate.

  “Captain Obvious, care to elaborate? I saw you with her in passing and it looked like a bit more than that.” She finished her apple, stood and threw the core into the trashcan.

  “It’s complicated.” I surveyed the mess I’d made in my haste to reach Quinn. Shards of the broken dish were everywhere and I needed to get it cleaned up while Quinn was napping. Spying the broom leaning on the wall beside the pantry, I snagged it and went on a hunt for the dustpan. Why was the stupid thing always missing?

  “Everything with you, Claire, is complicated. Now spill it.” Cass bent over in front the breakfast bar and emerged again with the dustpan in hand. She held it out to me and I took it.

  “Thanks.” I started sweeping up the mess, my mind running circles around itself to figure out how much I should tell Cassidy. I mean, she knew the weird magic bits, but how I got there was still a mystery to her. I’d also conveniently left out any mention of Bette’s involvement and the biggest lie of all—the fanged one.