“I’ll do anything,” Byron promised.
Since then, Byron had learned what HARP was. Hunters Against Radical Paranormals. A group who actively brought down anything not human that posed a threat to humanity. They left supernatural beings alone as long as they stuck to themselves. However, there were some paranormals who never left humans alone. Vampires couldn’t. Most demons fed off strong emotion or action. Then there were others who preyed on humans for sport. HARP hunted the predators.
Their leader, Jones, paced through the room. His hands twisted in front of him, his brow pinched. “Edenton? Where all the Others, as they call themselves, co-exist?”
“Yes. I found her through the blog I told you about. There are shifters, casters. Things I’ve never heard of. Victoria has to die for what she did. With the demon protecting her, I don’t see how I can take her out on my own. The shotgun should have at least wounded her enough I could’ve finished her off, but the creature nearly blinded me before I got away. The bullet ricocheted somehow and hit me.”
Jones stopped, turned, and made eye contact. “Blinded, you say?”
He nodded.
Jones eyes seemed to burn with fire for a second. When he blinked they were back to cold onyx. “Did you find out who this demon is?”
“No, but I will.”
“I need to know what we’re up against. If you require help, call me.” With that he walked out of the room.
“You’re lucky he isn’t sending me with you,” Mena offered coldly.
He agreed. The woman scared the shit out of him. “I’m here to help my brother. Not to start a war against all creatures different than me.”
Evil danced through her eyes. “You really believe you can save a vampire? One who fell hopelessly in love with a beautiful monster, only to lose all his humanity?”
But had he? Is Monty beyond saving?
Clinging to the one positive of last night, he argued, “He never tried to taste the blood dripping down my arm. I sat within reach of him, and he didn’t seem fazed.”
“He’d drank a bag of blood minutes before you arrived. He was sated for the moment.” Her brow arched. “Do you really think we want you to die at your own brother’s hands? We’ll attempt to keep him civilized, but that always wears off.” She tied the last stitch and cut the thread. “Remember that, Byron. We could always free him from his cage, and he’d kill you in a heartbeat. He wants nothing more than to wreak havoc on the world.”
Byron had a hard time believing that.
* * * *
Lincoln stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked up to the barn Slater had transformed into a woodworker’s paradise.
Slater was an old werewolf whose power could sweep through the room, and bring the wolves to their knees when he needed to. Still, he was fair, caring, and proved time and time again that he preferred to listen to his wolves and choose a path accordingly. For him, it wasn’t about power, but about keeping their community together. Something Lincoln truly admired.
Didn’t prevent Lincoln from being nervous. Slater had a long, intimate relationship with Victoria. It ended when Jess walked into Edenton, and had never been romantic. Despite his obvious love for Jess, Lincoln feared Slater’s response to his interest in Victoria.
Slater set down the chainsaw and Lincoln gulped.
Lincoln dipped his head. “Hey, Slater. I had a few questions.”
“Jess told me. Want a beer?”
He shook his head.
“Tea?”
No need to be nervous. He may be the alpha but he is a good guy.
Drawing a slow breath, Lincoln forced himself to relax. “Beer is fine.”
One corner of Slater’s mouth tipped up “Whatever you prefer. I’m sure there are other things in the fridge.” Slater wiped his forearm across his brow and nodded toward the house. “Come on, I’m thirsty.”
Lincoln followed. “Beer is fine. I’m finding I’ve acquired a taste for it.”
“Have a seat.” Slater motioned to the stools at the counter before going to the fridge. He popped the caps off a couple of beers while Lincoln took a moment to put his thoughts in order.
Choosing a direct path, Lincoln started, “I want to pursue Victoria, but I don’t know how. Last night I managed to go to her house and invite her to a dinner party.” A smile pulled at his lips as he looked away. “She enjoyed herself, and didn’t want the night to end. It wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the shooter.”
Slater brought the beers to the counter, nodding. “Don’t give up, and for god’s sake, keep approaching her.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
“I’ve seen how she watches you. Talk to her, listen, make her feel special.”
“How?”
Slater took a seat and turned toward him. “That’s up to you. Her past haunts her. Get her to talk about it, then make her see she isn’t the evil person she believes. You bring light to everyone when you open up and let them in. Look at Dacia. And yeah, some of that’s Preston. Not all though. For instance, when she shows up alone for lunch, you sit down and talk to her. It brightens her mood, and she’s warmer to everyone.”
“Victoria is different. I’ve never wanted Dacia, or anyone else. It was easy to put myself out there and talk. I didn’t want anything more. Victoria,” he glanced away and closed his eyes, “I’ve always been attracted to her, for as long as I can remember. She’s the only woman I’ve ever craved. I’ve always chickened out in the past. What if I choke?”
Slater nodded. “If you do, you aren’t ready for her. You’re either all in, or you need to wait.”
“I don’t want to wait. I need to know what this is.”
Slater nodded. “She wants acceptance. Get her to open up about the past, and whatever you do, don’t make her feel worse for things she couldn’t control. She needs to be seen for who she is now.”
“I can do that. I appreciate the talk.” He took a swig of his beer, then looked at the label. “This is good.”
“Jess keeps it at the bar for me.”
“I like it better than the Heatwaves Dacia prefers.”
“If you ever need to talk, about anything, I’m here. I can’t imagine it’s easy without your mom after the way she sheltered you, but you’ve grown into a good man. I’m proud to call you a friend.”
Which reminded him of the night before. “Did you know what I was?”
Slater shook his head. “Knew you were special. Ethyl never said what your father was, or who for that matter. I remember her coming here when you were a few months old. She was so religious, I probably should have guessed.”
“She was a little on the fanatical side.”
“She ever tell you why he didn’t stay?”
He shook his head. “Not exactly. Mentioned something about him protecting her from some radical group.”
“Who?”
Lincoln snorted. “HARP. I can’t imagine what’s threatening about an instrument.”
Slater gave him a long look. “I know that name.” He rubbed at his beard, staring out the window. His eyes widened as he looked to Lincoln. “Shit, I know what they are. Hunters Against Radical Paranormals. The rumors are bad. They recruit humans to hunt us, only their leaders aren’t human. Something big must be going down.”
“I want to help stop whatever this is,” Lincoln told him.
“You will. We all will.”
Lincoln took another drink.
“Nothing we can do about HARP until we have more information.”
“Unfortunately,” Lincoln muttered.
Slater tapped his fingers on the counter before raising one. “Have a game plan for tonight? Regarding Victoria?”
“Not yet.”
“She likes to walk out by the lake, especially when she has a lot on her mind. You could catch her there. She goes most nights, right after the sun is down. There’s a dock behind her property. That’s likely where you’ll find her.”
Lately, she’d come to watch h
im in the shower right at sundown. After last night, he had a feeling she’d go back to her old habits. This opened up a perfect opportunity for Lincoln. “Thank you. I should go.”
“Good luck.”
Chapter 6
Minutes before the sun went down, Victoria woke with a shuddered breath. Desire pumped through her veins. She wanted nothing more than to sneak into Lincoln’s backyard and find him showering as had become his habit at sunset.
For me. He’s doing it for me.
He was aware of her unsolicited visits, the way she watched him. His eyes always found her though he couldn’t possibly see her hidden in the shadows. The knowledge should have made her stop, but he seemed to encourage her, taunt her.
Not tonight. I must resist until he has the strength to come to me. Maybe then I won’t feel like I’m damning his soul the same as mine.
Lincoln wasn’t a conquest. He was special, someone she felt a real connection with. If she let him in, she wanted it all. No booty call, no wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. She wanted romance, love, everything she never had before. The root of her fear was not knowing if he wanted the same.
With a somber sigh, she rose from the bed to find another dress. This evening she would go to the lake and skip the nightly shower show ritual.
As the last rays of sun left the sky, Victoria slipped into the nearly dark night, and heavily covered back yard. Stealing one longing glance toward Lincoln’s house, she reinforced her resolve and sprinted for the lake, small bag over her shoulder.
Her heart felt heavy as she sank onto the dock. She slipped her shoes off and dipped her feet into the chilly water before unpacking the canvas sack. Setting her diary and pen aside, she pulled out a three-wick rose-scented candle and lit it with a match. She smiled at the memory of Lincoln bringing the beautiful flowers.
A snapped twig caught her attention. Whipping her head in the direction of the sound, she found Lincoln striding from the forest, toward her. His voice resonated within her. “Evening, Victoria.”
“No shower?” she asked breathlessly.
One corner of his mouth tipped up as he glanced away with a shrug. His chest heaved with a heavy breath. “That tactic isn’t having the desired effect. Figured a more direct approach might. I hope. Otherwise I’ll look like a fool, if I don’t already.”
Her heart pitter-pattered, and a slight tremble started in her hands. “Care to join me?” She patted the worn boards beside her.
“Would be my pleasure.” He closed the distance and sat down next to her, close, but not touching. “May I ask you something?”
She nodded, afraid of her own voice, and not daring to hope.
He turned toward her, and stared into her eyes. “Have I misread your interest?”
“No,” she answered truthfully, her gaze drifting over the water. “Lincoln, I’m very interested. You’re so young though, and,” a smile pulled at her lips, “inexperienced. I’m afraid my influence may change you.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You hardly know me.”
Lincoln reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. He was warm, full of positive energy that chased away some of the doubt. “I want to. All of it. The good, the bad, everything.”
“You don’t want my darkest secrets, Lincoln. I don’t want you to hate me as much as I hate myself.”
“Then you don’t know me very well. I can’t imagine hating you.”
Turning toward him, their eyes locked. “I want to believe you, but you can’t possibly understand what I’ve been through, what I’ve done.”
He squeezed gently. “You can tell me anything, and I won’t run.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.” She moved to look away.
He gently caught her face, holding eye contact. “Don’t be so sure I’ll walk away.”
Leaning into his palm, she closed her eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Open up, let me in, Victoria,” he pleaded.
“I’m not sure how.”
“How to what? Get to know someone?”
She nodded, opening her eyes. The pale green of his drew her in.
Smiling, he dropped his hand. “Talk to me. If I ask questions, answer honestly. I’ll do the same.”
“When did you get so fearless?”
His brow arched. “Fearless? I can’t claim that. Though I’m learning that sometimes the only way to get what you want is to take risks.”
“Something I should remember,” she answered thoughtfully.
* * * *
Patience, Lincoln, that’s generally something you have in spades, he cautioned himself. She hadn’t shut him out yet, and he seemed to be making progress. Still, he was incredibly nervous.
Hoping he was making a move in the right direction, Lincoln jumped in the deep end. “Let’s start at the darkest moment, and maybe I can prove I won’t give up. What’s your biggest regret? The worst thing you’ve ever done?”
A sad laugh escaped her lips. “You weren’t kidding about taking risks.”
He squeezed her hand. “Nope. I took one, now it’s your turn.”
“I tried to take my life. Not once, but twice.” She looked out over the water and shrank in on herself.
He knew she hated what she was, but she clearly loved life. She would have had a compelling reason to go that far. There was one way to prove she could tell him anything.
Leaning closer, Lincoln said, “Tell me why.”
“You aren’t going to tell me it’s the worst sin?”
Holding her gaze, he smiled softly. “I imagine something horrible must have happened to convince you death was the only choice.”
* * * *
If he could be brave and jump into the worst question, she would honor him with an honest answer.
“I was seventeen, my parents had died days before…” She paused, drawing a slow breath.
The memory came at her in full Technicolor. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, blood rushing out as Moncleve took brutal pulls on her vein, while each thrust of his cock battered her will to live.
Her body was no longer in pain, finally numb to his torment. Her soul was another matter. This wasn’t life, this was hell, and she would do anything to make the torment end.
Releasing her hair, his fangs withdrew. She fell, bent over the table, as his hot seed splashed against her cheeks and thighs.
“Don’t forget to clean yourself up before my return,” he told her harshly before walking out the door.
She slid to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, praying for a sign.
The front door banged shut, and she heard the locks click into place.
Finally opening her eyes, she found herself in the dining room. Not her usual prison, the one he called a bedroom. As she stood on weak legs, she saw the mirror above the hearth and the heavy candlesticks.
Victoria rushed to the window to find the carriage traveling into the night. She ran back to the mantle, picked up the heaviest candlestick and smashed it against the glass, shattering the mirror.
Finally, salvation.
She took a shard and pressed it against her inner wrist before drawing it up to her elbow. It took every ounce of strength to repeat the process on her other arm, before everything began to fade to black. Relief settled in. Moncleve had finally lost. Death welcomed her into its dark embrace.
Peace was ripped from her as thick, vile liquid coated her tongue before sliding down her throat. Something clamped onto her nose as the wrist was pressed tighter to her mouth. Unable to fight, she swallowed hard, again and again. Pains prickled through her body as it woke up.
Her eyes flew open to find his burning red with malice.
“You don’t get to leave. I’ll throw you away when I’m done with you. Instead of my broken doll, you’ll be my beautiful monster. I’ll drain every last shred of humanity, as well as your dignity from you.”
She shoved at him, but her strength hadn’t returned. The room spun, but she could have sworn h
er arms were whole, no jagged gash in either.
Lincoln brought her back to the present with gentle circles he rubbed against her back. She leaned into him as her arms wound around herself.
“Moncleve abducted me shortly after their bodies were buried. He was the Shadowstalker who changed me, but not until after months of torture. I was nothing more than a blood slave, and… worse.” She shook her head, a tear escaping.
He wiped it away with his free hand, then caressed her cheek. “Moncleve violated you?” His voice wavered, thick with emotion.
Nodding, Victoria closed her eyes. “I was an object to be used however he saw fit. Moncleve was not a kind man. He thrived off my terror, agony… humiliation.” Sighing, she looked over at Lincoln and found despair etched on his face.
“I won’t judge you,” he promised.
“When he was out feeding, I broke a mirror, slit my wrists. I would have died, but he wasn’t done with me. He changed me that night, and still used me, but taught me to be ruthless, to take what I wanted from everyone. Eventually I gained strength, and killed him the moment I had the chance.”
The night she rebelled came back like a tidal wave.
Moncleve’s eyes flashed red. “You won’t drink from your pretty present? I could order you.”
Her eyes swept to the girl tied to the bed. Barely a woman, nude, bruised, and terrified. She saw herself after her parents had died and Moncleve took her into his custody.
Glaring back at Moncleve, she shook her head. “No, I won’t drink from an innocent.”
“You have, countless times,” he spat. “You’re a monster, as you so charmingly call me.”
“I’m nothing like you. You use anyone you want, break them down, and throw them away. Is that what you’re trying to do now? Throw me away because I won’t fall into your ways without you forcing the compulsion?”
“You’re weak. I wanted a woman who savors our gifts the way I do.”
“I’m not weak. You have to play mind games in order to control me.”
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