by Liza Street
She tried not to let out a breath of relief. Bo could read her expressions better than nearly anybody.
“You in love with some shifter now?” he asked. “You in love with Sheriff Rhees?”
“He’s not Sheriff Rhees,” Gracie said. “He’s related to him. Not his fault, is it?”
Bo slammed his hand against the door frame and stepped inside. “What the hell, Gracie? You sympathizin’ with them now? Who the hell are you?”
“I’m still me, Bo. It’s just not his fault.”
“We made a blood oath, Gracie Jane. That’s not something we take lightly, you and me. Or maybe your oath don’t mean as much a hundred fifty years after the fact. Well, mine fuckin’ does. You’re dishonoring Clive. You said you loved him, Gracie, or was that a lie?”
“It was the truth,” Gracie whispered. “Still is the truth. He was the best man I know.”
“Then you need to figure your shit out and stop dilly-dallying around with the shifter.”
“I will.”
“So let’s make a plan, then.”
She looked at her phone. “It’s nearly dawn, Bo. You’re gonna collapse and I don’t want to have to carry your sorry ass back to your room.”
He ground his teeth. “Fine. Tomorrow we’ll start making plans.”
She nodded. “Tomorrow.”
“Wish I believed you.” He turned and left, slamming her door behind him.
Eight
Dristan’s Deli was a little shop started by Fraze’s brother, and Fraze couldn’t be prouder of it than if he’d started it up himself. Dristan had long wanted to have something tying them to the town, and with it, a quiet little life in the mountains.
Fraze looked around the room, at the shining counters, the tile floor that looked like planks of wood, the bright menu that featured some of Laura’s whimsical drawings, and wondered how this place would look at night. If he could bring Gracie here. If Dristan would ever accept her.
It was possible, wasn’t it? He didn’t know. Dristan had hated the vampire court ever since Marlana had forced him into the cave and they’d overpowered him. They’d taken his blood and Dristan had never forgiven them for it.
It was crazy for Fraze to want to consort with the enemy. To take her right there against the old farmhouse. It was absolutely fucking insane, and it couldn’t be repeated.
He wanted to tell Dristan. Ask him what he thought about it.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he stood up and walked over to the counter where Dristan stood.
“What’s up?” Dristan asked. He moved a cake plate laden with scones over to one side to make room for a plate of wrapped sandwiches.
“Nothing. Just coming over to say hey,” Fraze said.
Dristan chuckled. “I can hear your lie. I could hear your lie before I woke up this morning. I could hear your lie before you were born—”
“Shut up.”
“You sound…sad. Are you on a sad stick, Frasier?” Dristan asked. “Is it…a woman?”
“Shut up,” Fraze said.
“Look you wanna talk, I’m here for you, brother. But stop dancing around the problem like a nitwit in one of Laura’s dancing movies, Magic Mike or whatever.”
Fraze finished his coffee and set the empty cup on the counter. “Never mind, man. I thought I wanted to talk, but I don’t.”
Dristan shrugged. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Dristan wouldn’t understand—Dristan had a mountain lion shifter for a mate—a mountain lion just like him. Fraze was…what. Going interspecies? Or was it enough that they were all basically human? Or that Gracie used to be human?
It hurt his head.
He jogged back to his car and drove out past Marlana’s estate, following the highway until the turn-off for an old logging road. He drove on the logging road for two miles until he reached the driveway, out in the middle of nowhere, which led to the forgotten cabin that had belonged to his parents. Dristan knew it was here, and Marlana probably did, as well, but nobody except Fraze had been out here in over five years.
This little piece of land was the perfect place for Fraze to be alone and think.
Getting out of his Mustang, he used his senses to make sure nobody was around. He walked for a bit, over the ground covered with pine needles, past the tiny cabin, and into the trees. After taking off his clothes, he folded them one by one and set them on a log. Then he crouched and let the lion take over his body.
Thoughts were too hard as a human, but as a lion, everything became simpler, clearer.
And the resounding image pulsing in his mind was of Gracie’s face, just after her orgasm, and her dark look of love.
Nine
Bo came into her room as soon as dusk hit. He’d woken from his slumber early, and Gracie frowned. Maybe he was gaining a talent like hers—staying awake during the day. Maybe she’d get company during these long hours of summer.
Two weeks ago, she’d have been happy to spend extra time with Bo.
Now she just wanted him to go boil his shirt, as Clive used to say when he wanted someone to get lost.
“All right,” he said, slapping his hands together. “Where’s the best place to grab him?”
“Grab…him?” Gracie asked.
“Yeah, your shifter boyfriend. We’re gonna knock him off, so where does he go alone?”
“I don’t know,” Gracie said. “I don’t stalk him or anything. I’ve just seen him those two times.”
And oh, she’d seen a lot of him. She wanted to see more—take off his shirt and watch his muscles ripple as he moved and bent his body to her pleasure.
She felt a flush on her cheeks, and suddenly felt thirsty. She’d have to hunt soon. Taking a little bit from each human meant she had to hunt every night. Inconvenient, but it was better than draining someone by accident, or taking so much their memories were impossible to adjust.
“You’re hiding something,” Bo said, his voice accusatory. “You never hid anything from me before.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Let’s plan this. But…I think we’re going about it wrong.”
He leveled a stare at her. “Really.”
“Really. We want to, what, kill him? That’s gonna be quick.”
“Don’t have to be,” Bo said.
“Even if we drag it out for days,” Gracie said, “then at the end of it he’s dead, right?”
He nodded.
She took a step nearer to him. Maybe they didn’t have to kill Fraze. Maybe she could—hell, how selfish was this?—maybe she could keep him. “What’s your biggest regret?” she asked Bo. “Your whole life now, what’s your biggest ever regret?”
“Easy.” He looked down. “Becomin’ what I am.”
“That’s right. We’re demons.”
“So, what do you wanna do?” he asked. “Get to the point, Gracie.”
“I think we should make him a demon,” she said. “He’ll never get to eat a meal again. Never see the sunrise.”
Bo scoffed. “You think it’ll even work? He’s already a shifter. Does that…happen?”
Gracie didn’t know. She just knew that a world without Fraze Rhees in it was worse than the one she was living in now. She couldn’t bear the thought of purposefully taking him out of it.
“It’s worth a try,” she said.
“What’s worth a try?”
The voice came from the hallway outside Gracie’s room. Ana. A cold fear filled Gracie’s body and gripped her neck. She hadn’t heard Ana approach—she hadn’t heard anything.
Ana’s silence was just one of the indicators of how powerful she was. Gracie’s vampire instincts had her bending her head as Ana walked into the room. From the corner of her eye, she could see Bo bending his head, too. Exposing the back of the neck—where a well-placed slice of a sword would easily remove them from the world. Reduce them to dust. As her subjects, they gave that opportunity to the queen at every turn.
&
nbsp; Just by existing beneath her, it could be their fate at any time.
“I asked you a question,” Ana said. “And as you know, I’m not a very patient queen.”
“We’re discussing how to turn one of the Corona lions into a vampire,” Gracie said.
“That.” Ana was quiet for a moment. The queen didn’t sputter, she didn’t act shocked. “That’s an interesting plot. I approve.”
“Have you ever heard of it done?” Bo asked. “A shifter turning into a vampire?”
“Yes, I have. My maker had two former shifters in her service. There’s a short period of madness as the shifter loses access to his animal, but then,” she touched her chin, “then they’re just like the rest of us.”
Gracie lifted her head to look at the queen. She stood regally in front of them. Ana’s hair was almost as dark as her eyes. Other than her pale, pale skin, Ana looked like midnight. She looked like a beautiful demon, the kind who would smile while she was sucking out a person’s soul.
“So you’ll capture this shifter somehow,” Ana said. “Then exchange blood, give him the final kiss.”
“Thank you, Ana,” Gracie said. She knew it wasn’t right, the idea of taking Fraze’s animal. She knew it wasn’t fair. But wasn’t this better than killing him, like Bo wanted to do? Like the rest of the court would do if given half a chance?
Ana turned to go.
“Wait, please ma’am,” Bo said.
“Bo,” Gracie hissed. “Hush.”
Ana spun back around, her face curiously blank. “What is it?”
Bo cleared his throat. “I just was hopin’ we could do it on Saturday. Not tonight.”
“Why Saturday?” Ana asked. Instead of looking at Bo for a response, though, she looked at Gracie.
Gracie bit her lip, drew blood. It hurt, but it gave her some measure of confidence. “Because that’s the day his ancestor took my lover from me, and Bo’s brother.”
Ana’s laughter was tinkling chimes. “That is perfect, then. Saturday it is.”
Feeling as if she’d lost more than she won, Gracie watched Ana turn to leave.
Ana looked over her shoulder. “This is something you probably know already, but not a word. To anyone outside the court. If I find out anyone is talking to those shifters, there will be hell to pay in the form of the sun.”
Gracie nodded. How had she gotten herself into this?
Ana left, and Gracie looked at Bo. “I’ll see you later. I’m goin’ hunting.”
“Want company?” he asked, looking at her for the first time like they might be on the same side again.
She hated to take that conviction from him, but she just couldn’t be around anyone. “No, thanks. I don’t want to…I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”
“You still need to come to the cliff. I set up a stone there the other night. We could go together if you want, plant some flowers.”
“Blanketflower,” she murmured. “He loved that one.” He’d always talked about how happy the yellow blossoms looked.
“So?” Bo said. “You gonna come with me, finally?”
She shook her head. “Not tonight.”
His shoulders fell. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her, and it wouldn’t be the last. Without another word, he turned around and left her little room.
Gracie waited until he had time to fly off on his own, then she went outside to hunt. She didn’t feel good about not paying her respects to Clive.
She felt even worse about helping the court give Fraze the final kiss.
Ten
Fraze had been more lion than man the past two days. It wasn’t healthy to spend too much time in his animal form, but it felt so damn bad to be human and obsess over the vampire.
The vampire.
His Gracie.
It killed him.
The morning had started early for him—he hadn’t been able to sleep and so he’d shifted to lion and run in the woods near Marlana’s property. It was fine to go there because that was part of the reason she owned all the land, but he wanted to be there early to avoid company. Mountain lions weren’t pride animals, not like African lions. It was just the people who needed the company. And Fraze didn’t want to be a person right now. Fraze, as a person, was all tied up in thoughts of a vampire.
So messed up.
Maybe he could forget about her. Or maybe…maybe he’d see her again if he went to Hart’s.
It was a thought. He certainly wouldn’t run into her during the day, and he wouldn’t run into her at night if he were aimlessly roaming the woods as a lion.
But Hart’s—it was where they met. Where they’d reveled in each other’s bodies.
He simultaneously wanted to avoid it, but he couldn’t resist anymore.
As if on autopilot, he worked through the day. The morning was taken up by a job for a human couple, acquaintances of the Channings, who wanted a new walkway leading to their porch. In the afternoon, he headed to Rafe and Brigitte’s place. They were hiring him to build a large deck behind their little cottage. Both Rafe and Brigitte were working this afternoon, so he was alone in their back yard, taking measurements and writing notes in a small notebook he carried for jobs. The math and problem-solving were a blessing right now because they took his mind off of Gracie.
Beautiful Gracie, whose red lips had parted while she gasped his name. Beautiful Gracie, who’d locked her arms around his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, encouraging him to move faster, harder. She hadn’t had a problem with him being rough. Not at all.
He threw down his notebook in disgust. It was impossible to forget her. He’d never be able to forget her as long as he lived.
Evening fell, and he went home to shower.
If he wasn’t going to be able to forget her, maybe he could see her again. It was a stupid move, and he could imagine his brother’s disapproval. But fuck it, he had to see her.
His only chance was Hart’s. He dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. He covered it up with his leather jacket.
Because it was Tuesday, the farmhouse-turned-bar was quiet, just one couple slow-dancing in the middle of the room. A small party of people played pool. Some loners sat at the bar.
Gracie wasn’t here.
Fraze decided nothing was more depressing than a Tuesday night in a bar.
He sat down and waved over the bartender. “Hey. Can I get a pomegranate margarita?”
She nodded, eyes sparkling. He knew he was probably a joke with the fruity stuff, but he didn’t care. He liked what he liked.
Sipping his drink, he stared at the top of the bar. It made no sense to people watch—he knew with every fiber of his being that if Gracie was in this old farmhouse, he’d know it by now. He’d feel her presence like a cool breeze on his neck.
A woman came up to him. “Hey, handsome.”
He laughed. “You and I both know I’m not handsome by any means.”
“Well, handsome enough.”
“To what?” he asked. “To spend the night with? To flirt with for a few minutes?”
“You’re a bit confrontational, mister,” she said, and walked away.
He hadn’t meant to be rude. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she was flipping him off over her shoulder.
Oops. He turned back to his drink. The bartender gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You dodged a bullet, there. She’s been on the hunt all night.”
“That lonely she’d approach me, huh?” he asked.
“Aw, you’re a catch. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
He shook his head. Sweet of her to say so.
A crowd of barely twenty-one-year-old girls came in and crowded the bar, knocking into him a little. He scooted down because their mixtures of perfumes were going to give him a headache.
He finished his margarita, left an extra five on the counter, and left. He felt disappointed to his core that Gracie hadn’t been here. He didn’t know what he wanted from her, but he knew that staying away fro
m her was slowly gutting him. Hence, tonight’s visit to Hart’s.
He stepped outside and leaned against the porch railing. From there, he looked out over the empty field, the tiny, one-lane driveway that led to Hart’s from the deserted end of Alpine Street. And then he felt it—Gracie’s presence.
“Gracie?” he asked.
No response. He peered into the darkness, glad his shifter genetics gave him good night vision. At the end of the porch, she stood in the shadows. In her dark jeans and a black tank top, she looked dangerous and sexy.
“Hey, there you are,” he said. “I was hoping to see you…”
He trailed off, awkwardly. Because instead of smiling like she was happy to see him, she wore an expression that said she’d rather stake him through the heart.
Eleven
She didn’t know what had come over her, but when he stepped out of that bar smelling like another woman, or several other women, rather, Gracie wanted to bleed the entire population of Belnedge dry.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, clipping her words.
Pissed. She was madder than a wet hen, as Clive would have said.
“What’s wrong?” He came down the porch and stopped in front of her.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
“Lie. I can’t smell a lie on a vampire, but I definitely know you’re lying, woman. Why don’t you tell me what you’re really thinking?”
“Fine, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. I’m thinking you’re ridiculous. A charmer, apparently. I hadn’t thought that before of you, but now I know better.”
“Aw, really? You think enough people would want to talk to me?”
“You smell like you came out of a whorehouse.”
“Ohhhh.” Now he seemed to get it, the cheating bastard.
Gracie stopped her thoughts there. Cheating? Like he belonged to her? Oh no, he certainly didn’t.
“I came here to see you,” she said, “although I don’t know why, especially not if you’re just here to see a bunch of other people.”
“It’s not like that,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s not,” Gracie said. “Anyway, forget it. You can get back to your party.” She turned and tried not to stomp away like a little kid, but in her mind she was throwing a grand tantrum.