by Ruby Raine
They had plenty of other uses for a bed she thought breathlessly, plus, she needed sleep even though the vampire didn't. Maybe they could just sneak off to a hotel for a night? It would be more romantic, and they wouldn't have interruptions.
She shuddered, the mere idea of talking to William about spending the night together reverted her right back into the Melinda Howard she no longer liked. The one who'd rather put off uncomfortable conversations as long as possible. But she'd learned that lesson the hard way.
Still, what if William loved her, but didn't want to make love? It would be just like him to want to wait or worry he might hurt her, or—Melinda sucked in and froze, the air in her lungs catching—footsteps shuffled in the shadowy depths of the alley.
She spun to run away, first instinct to get back into the light and around people. But she stopped with a shake of her head.
Duh, witch, hello! I can handle this. I should handle this, it is my job after all...
Melinda reaffirmed her stance, palm raised and ready to strike as the footfalls clapped against the pavement and a figure formed in the dark. A body stepped into the dim light and the shock of seeing a face she recognized fizzled the stunning spell right off her lips.
"Dominic?" As in Dominic freaking Landon—aka Jerkwad—aka crap excuse for a man she'd let take her virginity to which he'd proceeded to insinuate how lucky she'd been to let him.
But the jerk didn't even say anything and before Melinda's befuddled thoughts cohered into action, he'd pulled out a knife, lunged forward, and plunged it into her gut. Her body slammed against the wall of the building behind her, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of her as warm blood oozed outward all over her front.
She gasped, eyes pinned on Dominic in breathless horror as the reality worked its way to the depths of her mind. Dominic was a sick excuse of a man, yes, but a killer?
And this is how it was all going to end? Not in a battle. Not doing her duty as a witch. Not of old age with William by her side. No, she was going to die after being stabbed to death in a dark alley by the sick excuse of a virginity stealer.
Her death would destroy William. Her family would never forgive this act.
This was one of those turn everyone's lives upside down acts, and she would not be around to see what repercussions awaited.
Many thoughts ravaged her brain in a blink of time—it was true, what they said about life passing by in your moment of death. So much memory and thought in a mere blip of time.
But she was not dead yet.
Melinda blinked a few times, ordering herself to get it together and fight back—and this is when jerkwad covered her mouth, yanked out the knife, and tore her shirt as she felt something cold press below the wound.
She cried out and saw Dominic holding a small jar against her skin, collecting her blood.
But it was the reviling grin on his face that finally reached her resolve, unfreezing her and getting her back in action. This smug ass prick had taken enough from her already. She refused to let him take a single thing more.
With all the effort she could manage, she shoved her palm against her attacker's chest and blasted him with magic.
A weakened spell, as she was also weakened and woozy from the blood loss, so it did not kill him, but merely caught him off balance—his main concern, protecting the jar of her blood. Which he capped and held like it was precious.
Melinda expected him to fly off into the darkness and vanish, but he did not. Instead, he stared her down with a vile grin she vowed to curse right off his face as he spoke to someone she wasn't able to see.
Her breaths came out in short pants that almost iced over in the sudden frigid air, making it feel more like the bitter nights of winter, not fall. But it wasn't only the temperature that left her chilled to the bone—it was the malicious warning riding the air. The evil presence dominating the space.
Dread consumed Melinda, and not just for her life but because of what this evil arrival meant—a demon. A demon on the Isle. It materialized behind Dominic in a haze of red.
"My Dark Guardian." Dominic turned and bowed as if he'd been expecting the thing.
"You got it. Well done."
"And my reward?" Dominic pegged on the demon.
"Soon enough. Come. You're no longer safe here and are valuable to us."
"Yes, my Dark Guardian. I am your humble servant."
There was something familiar about the voice of this demon. It's pitch, darker and more sinister, but the tone unmistakable. Albeit it was also impossible. Like, stupidly impossible.
And right before Melinda's eyes the demon leaned into the dim light, it's darkly shrouded face visible. She choked over words that made no coherent sense as the demon took hold of Dominic and they vanished in a halo of red—with her jar of witch blood, leaving her stunned and holding herself together as she bled out.
"Mathew?"
She had to be seeing things. The blood loss was addling her brain. There was no way she was seeing correctly. It was an absolute impossibility that Mathew was a demon.
Something was not right here.
"William..." His name echoed across her lips. "I need you, William."
His name was the last thing she remembered before her body slid down the cold wall and everything went dark.
CHAPTER 3
THE MOVING VAN PULLED out of the Howard's driveway leaving Michael and Emily swirling in a mix of excitement and trepidation. They were really doing it—Michael was leaving the Howard Mansion, the family home and headquarters for the witches. Emily had sold her house, the place her father had been murdered, and together, she and Michael had found an adorable three-bedroom cottage overlooking the ocean. A perfect first home to share together.
Although he had to admit, it was a strange thing to be leaving the place he'd called home all his life. But it wasn't like he was going far. A mile down the road. But far enough to start having a life of his own, outside of being a witch, an empath, and a death reader.
He grabbed Emily's hand and they spun around to stare at the mansion. This last month since they'd gotten married had been some of the happiest in their life.
"You okay with all this?" Emily asked him for the hundredth time. She'd been worried he might regret his choice to leave the mansion.
He cast his gaze to meet hers. "Not a single regret. I am so ready to start a life with you."
She squeezed his hand. They'd had a lot of long nights, talking things out. There were some moments when it felt like they were moving along at lightning speed, and others when it was like, why haven't we done this already!
"I can't wait to spend our first night in our home," Emily whispered.
"Did we tell the movers to set up the bed first?" he asked, with a teasing grin on his face.
"I'm pretty sure they got the hint after the first twenty times," she laughed giddily. "C'mon, let's grab the last couple of boxes." They had just enough room in Emily's car to squeeze them in.
Inside, Charlie and Lizzy were found in the kitchen eating pizza and having a well-earned beer, after working on moving into their new space. All their parent's belongings had been either moved to storage or donated to a local charity group. While Courtney and Annie were sucking up some warmed blood after helping out all around, where ever needed.
"Slice?" Charlie asked his brother and Emily.
"Or way better... beer?" enticed Lizzy.
"Both sound perfect." Michael's stomach growled as if on cue. And what the hell, one last pizza in his childhood kitchen before starting out his new life in his new home. He grabbed a couple of plates for him and Emily and as they ate, he wished all his times spent in this kitchen felt this good.
Everyone's happy vibes were rubbing off on him and it was a thousand times lighter than sensing all the dark and foreboding that had been their summer. Fall was looking much better. But as incredible as this moment was, he was looking forward to time alone with Emily. Away from the chaotic weight his empathy sometimes threate
ned to drown him with when surrounded by so many people all the time.
The brothers cast each other an understanding smile. And a nice reminder that change didn't always have to be difficult, or brutal even, or come with unwanted surprises. In this case, it was easy as breathing and the right choice for them both.
Life, moving forward and for this brief moment, all was perfect in their world.
WILLIAM MANAGED TO track down the rude man and his car, caused a distraction, and proceeded to disable the man's car in such a way that he'd have to get it fixed before getting back on the road. He might have happened to do some extra unneeded damage as personal punishment for being such a rude ass to the woman he loved.
Satisfied, he was about to return to Melinda when his name whispered desperately in the breeze—it called to him like a haunted warning swirling with an alarming dread that seeped into his bones and boiled his icy blood.
An enticing smell followed it.
Blood.
Melinda's.
Panic swept through him like a flash of heat sizzling against his skin and a snarl pushed out of him as his body moved swiftly to get back to her.
Blood.
So much of it.
He found her slumped against the wall, unconscious.
He smelled the trail of magic mingled with her blood—she'd fought off something. She'd been attacked by something.
A feral need for revenge almost sent him into a rage, but it ended the moment her shallow breaths and blood loss broke through the haze of anger churning into a terrifying reality. He ignored the enticing smell that would normally have ravaged his senses—there wasn't a single moment of vampire weakness in needing to taste the life leaking out of her.
Gently, but in desperation, he cradled her limp form in his arms and sped back to the mansion hoping salvation was in Charlie's healing gift.
PIZZA AND BEER MADE everyone tired and ready to crash for the night.
They were cleaning up the mess expecting to call it a night when something crashed through the front door and a feral snarl called out for Charlie.
All of them scurried into the living room where William was collapsed on the floor looking like death run over with a bloody Melinda in his arms.
"Fix her," William pleaded, his voice edging on a complete meltdown.
It took a full breath of time for Charlie to force his mind and body to catch up and push through the shock and rush over and sink to his knees next to his bloodied sister.
His hands shook, the terror that his healing gift might fail stabbed at his own gut as his inner thoughts screamed, please let this work. It can't be her time. Not like this. Not now.
His mate reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Lizzy's gaze paled, though, frozen on Melinda looking blue and lifeless.
William's thoughts replayed in its own loop—destroy whoever did this.
This demand was backed with the possibility of letting her die if it was her time or making the hard choice to change her into a vampire. Neither option something he was ready or expecting to make that night.
They'd promised each other a life together, but they had not spoken in any detail as to what that future might look like if his vampirism was not curable. Would Melinda choose death over being a vampire? Over being like him?
Annie flew Courtney out of the room—not that she didn't trust the new vampire, but this was a bloody mess of a test the newbie didn't need tonight. Michael and Emily held onto each other, in shock, the reality barely sinking in, their breaths frozen in fear.
Charlie let his hands hover over Melinda's wound, begging the unknown powers that be to heal her—the fear he might not succeed sent a cold shock through his veins that poured out of his skin in a flash of cold sweat.
A golden glow began to emanate from his palms, healing her wound.
A few seconds later Melinda groaned as she came to awareness again... and well, to say there was a collective breath of insanely relieved people was an understatement.
If a vampire was able to cry, William would have been sobbing a river, and everyone else's relieved tears might have caused a flood.
The vampire's old fears knifed back in, just like the implement that made Melinda's wound—he wasn't good enough for her. She should not choose him. If Charlie hadn't been able to heal her, would he have given in and turned her, or let her die? He'd made that choice once and regretted it, with Angelina. He'd let her die. If he let Melinda die, his only future was to die with her.
Which was the better outcome, he wasn't sure it was his judgement to make. It always came back to the same problems... but he lowered his gaze to see Melinda's eyes flickering open and those fears dissolved into utter relief that she was still with him and none of those fears had come true. Tonight, they hadn't. But they inevitably would return.
Perhaps they were living in a delusion this relationship could work?
He refused to give in to that fear. It was one battle at a time. Live day by day and they'd figure out how to make it work. But he sure as hell hoped it wasn't like this all the time.
Melinda gasped, memory returning to her. She sat up to get her bearings as a thousand questions slung at her from all directions because everyone wanted to know what had happened. William understood her overwhelm, and raised his hand for silence while she worked her brain back from the brink of death.
She checked out her wound—all healed—but the bastard, Dominic, had ruined her new shirt and jean jacket, which was a bloody mess. She landed her gaze on William who leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, letting her know in that simple act that he wasn't backing down, he was still here, not going anywhere.
He helped her to her feet and get steady, but as Charlie opened his mouth to ask just what had happened, this time, Melinda raised her hand for him to wait as she searched her memory for something. She relived every second of the horrifying experience searching for some lost detail she was sure she'd overlooked.
"I don't think it was real," she finally whispered, looking up to William. "The vision I had—I think it was a set up."
"That's a disturbing thought," William admitted as everyone else waited impatiently for them to explain. But he'd get to the bottom of the truth if it was his last act on this earth.
Melinda eyed her family and friends. "I'm okay, and I'll explain everything. I just need a few minutes, okay?"
Charlie and Michael nodded, jaws grinding with the need to know. But they were also impressed by how cool Melinda was being about the whole, she'd almost just died thing.
"Get cleaned up," offered Lizzy.
"We'll be in the kitchen," Emily said with a weak smile.
"Making coffee," Lizzy added, as she and Emily pulled their husbands into the kitchen to let Melinda and William have a few minutes alone to recover.
The vampire didn't leave her side, which Melinda supposed should have made her nervous as he helped her to her room and got her bloodied and ruined clothes off. But their minds were too raw to feel remotely worked up about any skin touching skin.
Once cleaned up and redressed, William brought her in for a deep embrace.
"Are you really okay?"
She nodded against him, pulled back, and met his gaze. "And you?"
His eyes closed in a moment of wonder, but he reopened them, his answer was firm.
Yes. He was still with her and would not break his promise even though it seemed like the world was out to make him do so.
"Okay. Good." Melinda wasn't quite ready for him to release his hold on her yet though. She leaned back into him and William's head came to rest on hers. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Melinda felt her blood pressure return to normal and was ready to explain to her family what had happened.
"I'm going to kill the bastard who did this." The words left William's tongue like a venomous warning.
Melinda pulled away from him with a shudder. "I want to tell you not to, but I'm struggling to voice that opinion. It was a guy named Domi
nic, and he is not an innocent."
And while William agreed, it was something else about her tone that had him wondering what she meant.
"Something really bad is going on, William."
"You don't think this was just about you," he put together.
"No. Maybe, this time. But no, overall. It was a demon, William. Not just Dominic. He's working with a demon."
If his lungs held real air, they'd have been crushed under the weight of what she'd just told him.
A demon attacked the woman he loved.
Demons were attacking out in the open and on the Isle.
It took every ounce of control he could muster not to scour the Isle and search out the fiend.
"William." She had called out his name a few times, but he'd only just now heard her. "I'm okay. And even you can't kill a demon."
True, that. Vampires had no more power against demons than witches.
"I'd still enjoy trying," William admitted in a low rumble. Melinda had no doubt.
Vampires were fast, strong, had incredible hearing, and were nearly impossible to kill. And in the case of an aged vampire, like William, had invaluable knowledge at his disposal.
Witches were human and suffered the frailties of humans—but they had powerful magic on their side, like the magic that had saved her life tonight. But it could be made to serve evil just as equally as it could serve good—as with all things human, magic served its master, good or evil.
Guardians and demons, however, were higher up on the power chain. In their human lives, they were no different than any other human. But upon that death, their spirit side was set free and their real power awakened. While the physical bodies they possessed could be destroyed, their spirit forms could be given a new host. Guardians had a ring to help protect their human forms from harm, which could only be removed voluntarily.
And while demons had worn their own, they'd secretly changed the rules and broken that truce, and turned that protection into a tattoo that could not be removed, thus, making them impenetrable from most dangers—other than Rae. Her power to destroy both the Human and demon side, still her own secret gift.