by Leia Shaw
Chapter 1
Marcelo elbowed his way through the crowded bar, growing more irritated with each step. Music assaulted his ears, vibrating painfully through his skull. He choked on the thick scent of tobacco, alcohol, and sex. Not good sex, but cheap, dirty sex. At least there were plenty of shadows for a vampire to fade into.
While walking to the counter he’d been bumped twice by drunk adolescents. One particularly rowdy juvenile spilled his drink on Marcelo’s boots. He loved these boots. His queen owed him for this “small favor.” The next drunk frat boy that got within a foot of Marcelo would be growled at, fiercely.
One bold woman offered to buy him a drink. Interesting, he mused. It didn’t happen often, although he’d been told he was terrifyingly handsome. But Marcelo wasn’t there to drink or pick up women. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. He was there to pick up one very specific woman.
He turned on his phone and studied the picture his queen had sent of her sister one more time, although he’d already committed it to memory. Erin Bolton. His hunt had landed him at a small liberal arts college in Albany, NY. He chuckled remembering the look on the students’ faces when he’d demanded to know Erin’s whereabouts. Sometimes it was good to be a vampire.
Hunting the girl had been the easy part. The next step would require a certain amount of finesse this battle-scarred vampire did not possess. He had to convince Erin to trust him, and then escort her to the Underworld.
He stared out into the sea of faces.
At the other end of the packed room, a woman jumped onto a table and yelled, “Let’s get some karaoke going!” Cheers erupted around her as she waved her hands in the air. Marcelo shook his head in disapproval. Date rape bait.
His mind drifted to the conversation he’d had with Sage, the Queen of the Underworld. “Five days,” she had said, “and I’ll meet you by the portal in Wales.” This was only day two. “Oh, and Marcelo, be gentle with her. She’s timid.”
Then what the hell was she doing in a bar like this?
With an aggravated sigh, he scanned the crowd for her again. More noise came from the table where the same girl was singing about putting a dime in a jukebox and loving rock and roll. He rolled his eyes. He remembered when music used to be good.
His gaze made its way up the girl’s body. Might as well get a good look since she insists on displaying herself. She wore brown leather cowboy boots, her slender calves changing to shapely thighs. Her short denim shorts were ripped up on the bottom and cut off at the perfect spot just below where the thigh met the buttocks. Her shirt was an almost see-through white billowy blouse covered with a brown leather vest. On top of her head was a matching brown cowboy hat. This girl, whoever she was, had sexy down to a science. No wonder the men were drooling over her.
Honey colored hair flowed down her back in loose curls as she shook all the right parts at all the right times. Her hair wisped wildly around her sweaty face. She threw her cowboy hat to a tall boy cheering loudly in the back then spun around giving Marcelo a full view of her face. Big brown eyes looked out into the crowd – eyes that looked oddly familiar.
Bloody hell!
Marcelo flipped to the photo on his phone again. He held up his phone next to the girl dancing provocatively on the bar table. It was the same girl though the phone displayed a much more innocent version with a bright smile. The sister he’d been sent to retrieve was drunk and dancing half naked on a table. And Sage had called her timid?
He took several determined steps forward, hurrying to finish this inconvenient side trip. Before he made it half way through the crowd, one distinctive word echoed above the noise around him.
“Fight!”
Oh shit. A glass bottle broke then the crowd turned vicious. Alcohol did that to hormonal adolescents, which was why he hated it – alcohol and adolescents.
Of course anyone who dared bump into Marcelo was thrown aside, but he feared for the girl. He’d made a promise to Sage to protect her sister, a job he took seriously. When he looked up at Erin, still on the table, it was just in time to see a beer bottle launched straight into her head. Shock filled her eyes as she staggered backwards. Marcelo shoved his way towards the table. He caught her when she tumbled off the ledge then cradled her against his chest. Up close, the girl was smaller than he’d thought. She weighed close to nothing.
He strode towards the exit with Erin hanging limply in his arms. The crowd parted once he slapped on his “get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way face”. He’d expected someone to fight him, or at least question him. He was a dangerous looking man carrying away a beautiful woman. But no one approached him. Was this woman here alone? Dressed like bait? Drunk with no one to watch over her?
He was irritated before but now he was downright fuming. He’d never been so glad to step out into the warm summer air. It wasn’t exactly fresh air, but it was enough to soothe his anger. The last thing he needed was for the human to wake up and see fangs poking out from under his lips.
After he checked over both shoulders to be sure he wasn’t followed, he turned down an empty alley. In Marcelo’s world you didn’t stay alive for long without being paranoid. Closing his eyes he concentrated on his intended location, a hotel room he’d reserved several blocks from where they stood.
Nothing happened. Puzzled, he tried again.
Still nothing. He stood in the piss and garbage filled alley, holding the unconscious girl in his arms, confused and growing angrier by the second. He’d never been unable to traverse before. So far Marcelo was the only vampire he knew that could traverse – or teleport, as his queen called it – to any place he’d previously been. This ability was the only reason he’d agreed to perform this “small favor” in the first place. Traveling the mortal way held no appeal, especially toting a very breakable, easily killable, drunk-on-her-ass human.
After trying three more times, he gave up with an exhausted sigh. Yes, he and his queen would be having a talk soon. He carried Erin the four blocks to the hotel, receiving plenty of odd stares, but still no one questioned him. When he reached the generic hotel room he gently laid the girl on the bed.
Scrubbing a hand over his unshaven face he stared at the body stretched out before him. Now what? Should he undress her to make her more comfortable for bed? Someone ought to smack him for that thought. If she woke up in a hotel room next to a stranger with nothing on but a bra and panties, she would surely have a fit. As it was, he expected some sort of panic when she awoke. Hopefully she had more sense than her sister and wouldn’t try anything foolish like attempting to fight him.
He brushed her hair away from her face to inspect the wound at her temple. He’d need to get ice when she awoke, but it didn’t look like a serious injury. Most likely she was passed out more from being drunk than from being hit. He combed his fingers through her hair; it was silky like Natalia’s. The small reminder made his heart heavy. How he missed her. But the similarities stopped there. Natalia had pale porcelain skin. Erin’s was a shade darker, almost matching her honey colored hair. She had unimaginably long thick lashes that spread delicately over her skin. As he looked her over, he realized everything about her was delicate. She was so fragile. So human. So mortal. Yet she’d ventured out, barely dressed, to a rowdy bar with no one to look after her? So foolish! He growled with an odd sense of protectiveness. It wasn’t his place but he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from giving her a stern lecture about her disregard for safety once she awoke.
Her fingers were long and thin, but he could see the tips of her fingernails were chewed off. A nail biter. Nasty habit. His gaze moved down her body and rested on her boots. Might as well take them off. Two reasons. One, it might be more comfortable for her to sleep. But more importantly, it would keep her from running. He tossed the boots
under the bed.
How long would she remain unconscious? He wanted to feed but wouldn’t risk leaving her alone. He suppressed the urge to shake her awake, command her to stay put, then go in search of a woman to feed from. But Marcelo knew from experience, human women did not like being ordered around by men. His queen had taught him that when she had tried to kill him only a few months ago. And all because he’d forced her to drink blood and steal the throne from her twisted father. Women were so temperamental.
With that in mind, Marcelo settled himself onto the bed and plotted the next place he would resume his hunt for Natalia.
Two hours later, the body next to his began to stir. A soft moan broke free from her lips.
When her eyelids fluttered open, he sat up straight and said, “Be careful. You were hit hard. I’ll get some ice as soon as –”
Her eyes were pools of terror. “Be calm, female. I mean you no harm.” He put his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.
Before he could reassure her with an explanation about Sage, she flew off the bed and bolted into the bathroom, where she slammed and locked the door. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t threaten him, she didn’t even scream. He was glad he’d grabbed her boots. She was a runner.
Marcelo walked to the bathroom door, chuckling a bit about the lock. A steel door couldn’t stop him from getting through it. Not unless it was silver. Still, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her further.
He knocked. “Come out of there. We need to talk.” He waited for a response. Nothing. Feeling a flicker of frustration he barely stopped himself from twisting the doorknob and barging in. Patience, Marcelo. She needed reassurance, not a brute showing of strength. “Your sister, Sage, sent me to see you to safety.”
Still no response. “Please, open the door. I will not hurt you.” He could hear her heart racing with fear. But there was a chance she could have a concussion. Rather than waiting until it was too late, he took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob, breaking through the lock. If she was scared and mad, so be it. Safety came first.
As soon as he stepped a foot through the bathroom door, a glass vase whizzed towards his head. He barely dodged it before it thudded onto the carpeted bedroom floor.
For fuck’s sake. Timid my ass!
Erin stood in the corner, a bottle of sample shampoo clenched in her fist. He gave her his sternest expression. “Don’t do that again.”
She dropped the bottle and started gasping, dragging air into her lungs as if it were suddenly difficult. Her body slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Mierda! She was hyperventilating. He rushed to her side, kneeling on the bathroom floor. She flinched away from him.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded. Her wide eyes darted around the room as if she were searching for invisible threats. No, not looking for threats. Marcelo was the threat. She was looking for an escape.
With a deep breath he softened his voice and tried to tone down the feral look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you. But I am not going to hurt you. You can trust me.” The shallow breathing continued. She looked like she was going to faint any second. At least she’d be easier to deal with. He mentally kicked himself. That’s just not right.
“Will you not speak to me?” he asked the girl.
She didn’t respond.
“Do you need medical care? Should I take you to the hospital?”
She shook her head so hard he thought he heard it pop.
“Then calm down so we can talk.” When she continued to gulp air, he added, “Female, I will have no choice but to take you to the hospital if you do not calm down.” A tear slid down one cheek as she covered her mouth with trembling hands. “Aw, hell. Don’t cry.”
“Go…away,” she said between gasping breaths. “Or…my boyfriend…will…kill you.”
He repressed the urge to laugh out loud at the ridiculous threat. Instead he pressed his lips into a grim line. “I’m sorry, I can’t go away. Sage sent me to protect you. I’ll bring you to her as soon as possible but we need to get a few things straightened out first.”
Her breathing quickened, growing louder and more labored with each one. Seeing no other alternative, he dialed Sage’s number then thrust the phone into Erin’s shaking hands.
“Do you have her? Is she safe?” Sage’s voice rang clear on the other end. She must have heard the heavy breathing because she said, “Erin? Is that you?”
Erin inhaled sharply. “Yes...” Another gasp then she tried to form a sentence. “Who…who…what…”
“Fuck! I should’ve known this wouldn’t go well. Look, just calm down. I know Marcelo isn’t Mr. Personality but he won’t hurt you.” Erin continued to breathe raggedly into the receiver. “Slow down, Dot. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Marcelo will take care of you. I promise. You can trust him with your very life. Just calm down.”
“I’m…trying…”
“Hey, remember when I punched that kid Joey in the face cause he called you a freak? The principle was going to expel me but you convinced him my fist had Tourettes.”
Erin choked on a laugh but the distraction seemed to calm her enough to listen to reason. Though Marcelo could hear Sage as clearly as if she were in the room, he kept his concentration on Erin’s eyes. They narrowed, taking him in with skepticism as Sage described his appearance. So mistrustful. He supposed it was only fair. If she’d had a life similar to Sage’s, then she had every right to be mistrustful. Once Sage had confirmed who he was, relief washed over her features. Marcelo smiled when her heart rate slowed to a steady pace. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his own breath until he finally exhaled.
“I’ll see you soon,” Sage said. “Miss you, Dot.”
“I…miss you too.”
She shut the phone then looked up at him with those big brown eyes. No, not brown. Amber, with flecks of orange and black. Captivating.
“Will you speak to me now?”
She shook her head.
“Just one little word?” he coaxed with a half-smile.
She stared at her hands for a long moment, then inhaled deeply and squeaked a meek, “Hi.”
He offered her a comforting smile. She scooted back an inch. Guess I need to work on that. “You’re going to have one hell of a hangover.”
She winced and nodded. Sage had been right, Erin was timid. Then why had she been dancing on a bar table? He shrugged. Wasn’t his problem.
“Come then. Let’s get you some coffee. I won’t be bringing you to your sister half dead.”
She took his outstretched hand and he helped her off of the bathroom floor.
“We need to treat your head wound as well. How do you feel standing up? Are you dizzy?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared it with a cough.
“I think you’ll be okay. Coffee first. Then I’ll get ice for your head.”
She nodded, pulling on her boots when he handed them to her. Silently she followed him out the hotel door towards the 24 hour gas station and snack shop across the street. Marcelo smiled to himself. Maybe this would be easier than he’d thought. Although he was still confused and worried that he hadn’t been able to traverse that night, at least the girl followed directions. Not like her sister at all. He stepped over a bum passed out against a garbage can. The store’s florescent lights stood out against the black of night.
Outside the snack shop, Erin froze. “I’ll wait here,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.
He shook his head. “Not possible. You go where I go.” Clearly she didn’t know the danger she was in. They’d be having a talk about that later.
“Not in there.” She gestured to the store with her eyes.
“I’m not asking,” he said with a warning growl. Perhaps he had spoken too soon about her willingness to follow his orders. Either way, she needed to know that they would be doing things his way. And better to clear that up right away.
“No!” She took one shaky step back.<
br />
What the hell is wrong with this girl? “Why not?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer but she tensed as if she were going to flee.
“Damn it, tell me!”
She shook her head.
“If you won’t give me answers I’ll assume you’re being difficult. In which case I’ll throw you over my shoulder and march you in there myself.”
Her skin paled at least three shades. Her eyes turned to saucers as air hissed in and out of her mouth. A wild heartbeat reverberated in his ears. She smelled like fear.
Grasping Erin’s elbow he pulled her down an alley, stopping under the brick building’s outside light. She leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands on her knees, calming her breaths. Marcelo looked from the store, to Erin’s face, then back again.
Realization struck. “Are you having a panic attack?” he asked.
She cringed and nodded.
“Because of this store?”
Another nod.
“Only this store?”
She gazed up at him, auburn eyes peeking from under thick lashes. Slowly she shook her head.
“Everywhere?” he asked, praying to gods she said no.
“Just about,” she answered.
He staggered back several steps. “Bloody hell!” He rubbed his hand against his forehead as if soothing a headache. Only vampires didn’t get headaches. “Bloody, bloody hell.”
***
I hate when they do that.
Erin watched the towering figure pace before her. He was obviously irritated about her…disability. Most people were, once they found out exactly what it meant. Erin had social anxiety. Anytime she was around new people, she panicked. No grocery stores, no restaurants, and no shopping malls for her. Not without alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Which was why she often drank. It was the only time she felt free. Free of fear. Free of anxiety. She could be herself. Well, a really loose, reckless, impulsive version of herself.
She trusted the man her sister had sent only because she trusted her sister. I wonder if he knows she’s not my real sister. Sage and Erin had spent several years in the same foster home as children. They were the closest thing either of them had to family. And they’d fiercely protected one another throughout their lives. Sage would never have sent someone who would hurt her. That was why she felt like she could give him a little push.