Fractured

by Suzanne Wright

  “Why, Marco? What was it about Imani that made you want to start your own line?”

  “Bring her here and I’ll tell you.”

  I growled at that. He smirked.

  Sam’s nose wrinkled. “Nah, I’ll give that a miss.”

  Marco jerked his chin in my direction. “Get him out of here, and summon Imani.”

  Fuck that.

  “I can’t quite work out why you think you’re in a position to make demands.” Sam turned to her mate. “Can you?”

  Jared sighed. “No, I’m stumped here.”

  “Why do you want to see her?” Sam asked Marco.

  “She’s mine,” he replied simply.

  Sam made the sound of a buzzer. “Wrong.” Very fucking wrong.

  “She is mine, and I want to see with my own eyes that she’s alive.”

  “She doesn’t think she’s yours, does she? She severed all ties with you long ago.”

  “You watched over her though, Marco, didn’t you?” said Jared. “You’ve spent all these years keeping her safe from people who would hunt and use her for their own gain. And how does she repay you? By shacking up with another guy.” Jared put a hand to his chest. “Personally, I’d be pissed. Aren’t you?”

  When Marco didn’t respond, I said, “You wanted revenge. You wanted to punish Imani for being with me. You wanted to hurt us both. Her death would have achieved that.”

  Marco looked at me, upper lip curled back. “I’d happily see you dead. But Imani will always be safe with me.”

  Sam snorted. “Considering you’re a bloody psycho, forgive me for not believing that.”

  “You’re being blinded by your anger,” insisted Marco. “Think. Why would I use serum to kill someone when I can do that with my bare hands? Why would I go through the trouble of keeping Imani safe all these years just to later kill her?”

  “If it wasn’t you, who was it?” I asked.

  “If I knew that, they’d be dead by now.”

  My gut tells me it’s not him, Jared said. Sam gave her mate an odd look, so I guessed that he’d said the same to her. I don’t think Marco would hurt her. Yes, Turning her against her will hurt her, but I don’t think he sees it that way.

  Honestly, I was beginning to think that just maybe the guy wouldn’t physically harm her, but that wasn’t to say that he hadn’t injected her with the serum. Maybe he didn’t want to kill her. Maybe he was hoping the serum would work and he was trying to repay her by giving her back her human life or something.

  “Whether you’re guilty of this or not, you deserve to die,” I said. “You stole her human life from her.”

  “Perhaps, but you really shouldn’t kill me,” said Marco, smiling. Freak. “I have information you’ll want to hear.”

  “Is that so?” Sam snorted. “I think you’ll say anything that you believe will keep you alive.”

  “You could be right. But you could be wrong.” He cocked his head. “Would you like to know what the little insignia is on the blog that’s leaking info about our kind?”

  Jared stiffened. “How do you know about the blog?”

  Marco’s smile widened. “You’re not the only one who keeps a lookout for such things.”

  “There is no insignia,” said Sam.

  “You didn’t notice the ‘O’ that had a ‘T’ running through it?”

  There is a small symbol on the blog, but I didn’t think it meant anything, Jared told me.

  “What do you know about it?” Sam asked Marco.

  He took a step back. “Can’t say I’m tempted to help you. I don’t like you much. But there is someone I’d like to speak to.”

  No prizes for guessing who he was talking about. “Fuck that.”

  He ignored me. “Bring my Imani to me. If she wants to hear about the insignia, I’ll tell her.”

  “You’ll toy with her,” I corrected.

  Again, he ignored me. “It’s a fair deal. You let me live, and I’ll tell Imani what the insignia means.”

  “If we let you live,” began Jared, “it would be inside this cell.”

  “At least I’d be alive. Bring her to me. Or don’t. The choice is yours.”

  Before I could tell him to go fuck himself with a jagged blade, I found myself standing in Sam and Jared’s office.

  I immediately began to pace. “He doesn’t know anything. The bastard’s just buying time and playing games. He’d say anything to see Imani. He’s obsessed with her.” Not that I was in a position to judge.

  “I agree,” said Sam.

  I heard a ‘But’, and I didn’t like it. “But…?”

  She sighed. “But this has to be Imani’s decision.”

  “No,” I bit out.

  “Butch, think about it—”

  “He’s bullshitting us, Coach. We can’t ask her to let him play a fucking game with her. He’s hurt her enough.”

  “I know, but I will not make decisions for her. It would insult and disrespect her. You know that, which is why you’re not going to pressure her into making the decision you want her to make.”

  Inwardly, I snorted. Sam didn’t know me well if she thought that. I was as overprotective of Imani as I’d warned her I’d be. During the transition, she’d been in so much pain, so crazed, and so close to death, that there had been several moments when I’d been sure I would lose her—and it had been fucking excruciating. Whenever I thought about it too much, anxiety chafed the edges of my consciousness until I wanted to punch something.

  It had been so fucking hard to watch her in such gut-wrenching pain; to feel so helpless because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to take it away. The only way I’d been able to help was to feed her. Sam, Jared, and Antonio—being the most powerful on the island—had also acted as regular donors. I’d be eternally grateful for that.

  Although a whole lot of people had stopped by to see Imani during the transition, I hadn’t allowed any inside; aware that she wouldn’t have wanted everyone to see her that way. The only vampires I’d let inside that hadn’t been donors were Chico and Lena.

  Of course, Fletcher being incredibly dramatic, had staged a protest outside her apartment; marching with huge ‘We want to see Imani’ boards. One deathly look from me had sent him scampering.

  Taking a calming breath, I unclenched my fists. “You saw her, Coach. She’s not at full strength yet. And we have no fucking idea what ‘full strength’ will even be now for Imani.”

  “I know, and I hate that as much as you do. But there are different kinds of strength. Imani will never be weak. She can do this. Marco can’t hurt her when there’s an impenetrable glass wall between them.”

  “There are different kinds of hurt,” I said, paraphrasing her. “We could just torture the info out of him.” I was up for that.

  She shook her head. “Imani told us that his gift is to shut off pain, remember?”

  I cursed. “Coach, I can’t condone this. The sick fuck will sense that she’s vulnerable, and he’ll leap on it.”

  “Probably,” said Sam, grim. “But it still has to be her decision.”

  “And if she decides to do this and he fucks with her, we pull her out of there,” Jared vowed.

  There was no ‘if’ about it. Imani would do this, Marco would mess with her, and she’d been through enough the past few nights. Still, I nodded, because I knew it was the best deal I’d get. I just hoped Imani declined.

  (Imani)

  I was just making my way back from the bathroom—and I was not about to admit to anyone that the simple act took a fair amount of energy out of me—when the front door opened. Seconds later, Butch strolled inside the bedroom with Sam and Jared close behind.

  As Butch’s anger crashed into me, I tensed. “Did you find out which one of them did this to me?”

  “They’re still maintaining their innocence,” said Butch before smacking a kiss on my mouth. “Tait says she’d happily see you dead but claims it wasn’t her. Juliet says she doesn’t care enough about your exist
ence to bother trying to end it. And Marco swears you’ll always be safe with him.” Butch gave a snort of derision. “There’s something else that Juliet said. She claims Marco didn’t abandon you; that Lazarus sent him away from you to punish him. I don’t think she was lying, baby.”

  I frowned. “But why would Lazarus lie to me about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There’s one other thing we need to discuss,” announced Sam.

  Cursing, Butch cupped my neck. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Sam spoke again. “We never mentioned this before because we didn’t think it was significant, but there is a small symbol on the blog that’s blabbing about our kind. Marco claims that it’s some kind of insignia and it means something. He offered us a deal. If we let him live, he’ll talk. But…he’ll only talk to you.”

  “There’s a very high chance he’s just playing games,” Jared warned me.

  As I took in Jared’s expression, I said, “But you don’t think he is.”

  “He had every motivation to hurt you,” Jared conceded. “But from all accounts, Marco isn’t a messy killer. He covers his tracks. We can’t link a single kill to him. If he was going to hurt you, it doesn’t make sense that he’d do it in a way that put him under suspicion.”

  Though I was loathed to admit it even to myself, Jared made some good points. “I’ll talk to Marco.” Because whether he tried to kill me or not wasn’t the issue here; it was whether or not the insignia truly meant anything.

  Butch froze. “Imani.”

  “You can be there,” I told him. “You’ll know I’m safe. He can’t reach me through the glass.”

  “Which is why he’ll play with you,” said Butch. “Even if he’s telling the truth, he’ll still play with you.”

  “I know. But what do we have to lose?”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I do.”

  “You can take Fletcher along as well,” said Sam. “He’ll give us an idea of Marco’s emotional state. I want to know whether he’s pissed with you or as obsessed as he seems.”

  “It’s probably a little bit of both,” grumbled Butch.

  Seeming in agreement with that, Sam and Jared headed for the door. Just as they were about to leave, she turned and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Lazarus and Annalise have been asking to speak with you. Obviously, it would be via teleconference since Lazarus doesn’t leave his castle and none of us are comfortable with you going there. Will you be up to speaking with them tomorrow after meeting with Marco?”

  I nodded. “Sure. I’d like to talk to them.” I’d like to know whether Juliet was telling the truth.

  “All right. Take some time to wind down and recover your strength. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Once the pair was gone, I asked Butch, “Do you think Marco even knows anything about the insignia?”

  His mouth twisted. “I think it’s unlikely. But I also think we shouldn’t talk about it or that fucker. Sam’s right; you should wind down. After the rough time you’ve had, you need it.”

  “We both need it.” Being with me during the transition had to have been hard for him.

  He surprised me by running a bath; filling the bathroom with the scent of jasmine. As he slowly stripped me, his touch was caring and soothing, not sexual or invasive—dammit. His eyes glittered with possessiveness as they raked over me. My nipples tightened under that heated gaze, but the bastard ignored that and helped me into the tub. After shedding his own clothes, he slid in behind me.

  Resting against him with a happy sigh, I caught sight of his toothbrush next to mine. It was only then it occurred to me that a lot of his stuff had found a place in my apartment. I kind of liked that. “So are you just planning to move your things in here, little by little, hoping I won’t notice until suddenly bam you’re all moved in?” Butch could be sneaky like that.

  He nuzzled the crook of my neck. “Don’t you want me here?”

  “Well, sure. You’re nice to have around—you’re a good cook, you’re pretty to look at, and you make baths and showers much more fun.”

  “But…?”

  “There’s no ‘but.’ I just thought you would have liked to stay in your own apartment until you were certain that this is working for you.” I didn’t want him making huge decisions like moving in here permanently unless he was one-hundred percent sure. I didn’t want him to regret it.

  His fingers traced my collarbone. “This isn’t a complicated situation for me, Imani. I have no doubts whatsoever about you. I’m sure that this is what I want. Just because I’m not very good at relationships doesn’t mean I’m scared of the commitment.”

  “Okay, I was just checking.”

  He spoke into my ear. “You know, sometimes I’d dream that you were with me. Then I’d wake up, and you weren’t there. And I’d remember that I let you go. I hated that. I don’t want to wake up and not find you right there again.”

  Swallowing, I shook my head. “I really had no idea you were feeling this way. I’m sorry that you were hurting. And I’m sorry I didn’t see it. As your friend, I should have seen it.”

  “It was my own fault. You offered me you, and I didn’t give you what you need.”

  Well he’d given me what I needed over the past few nights. “It just occurred to me that I haven’t thanked you yet.”

  “For what?”

  “Staying with me. Taking care of me during the transition.”

  He nipped my ear. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re mine. I’ll always take care of you.”

  “Dude, you say some pretty nice things.” It wasn’t that he was attempting to be romantic, sensitive, and soppy. He was just being honest, and I loved that. “Did you even take a break while I was going through the transition?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Not even for a change of clothes?”

  “Jared packed me a bag and brought it to me.” He kissed my hair. “It was hard to see you like that. Weak and in pain. You didn’t even know who I was most of the time. When you did recognise me, you kept asking me to make the pain stop. But I couldn’t, and I hated that. I couldn’t even hold you tight because your skin was so sensitive. Then you turned into a cat in heat, and I was worried I’d hurt you. But not fucking you seemed to hurt you more.”

  I grimaced. “I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

  “I’ve seen you in worse states than that.”

  My frown deepened. “Oh yeah? When?”

  “Like the time you and your squad were totally shitfaced and stripped down to your underwear to go for a swim in the ocean. You then fell asleep on the sand with seaweed in your hair—but not before putting a shell over each nipple.”

  And, in my drunken state, I’d been convinced I looked like a mermaid. “You saw me?” Oh, the shame and horror.

  “Who do you think carried you to your apartment?”

  I blinked. “I thought I walked home but just didn’t remember.”

  He snorted. “You couldn’t have lifted your head, let alone walked. You did mumble a few things, though, while I was carrying you.”

  Something about his tone told me this was going to be embarrassing. “What did I say?”

  “You started squirming, so I told you it was just me. You said that no one who’s as much of an asshole as me should be ‘so damn hot and so good with his hands.’”

  Groaning, I closed my eyes. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I shit you not, baby,” he chuckled.

  “You just left the other girls sprawled all over the sand?”

  “They aren’t mine. You are.” He kissed my neck. “Onto other things…You haven’t told me how you’re feeling about Lena’s news. It can’t have been nice to hear.”

  Total understatement. “It would be fair to say I’ve avoided even thinking much about the subject.”

  “Then think about it now. Work it out in your head.”

  “What do you want me to say? Am I worried? Ye
ah. Am I pissed? Yeah. Do I find it ironic that I was devastated at the thought of being human again when once upon a time it would have thrilled me? Yeah, I definitely do.” I shrugged. “But there’s no point in dwelling. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still a vampire. Just a vampire with an edge.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  (Imani)

  Waking up alone, I did a long, languid stretch. I could hear Butch moving around my apartment, and I smiled. He wasn’t an early riser, but since I was a late riser he was often awake before me.

  Slipping out of bed, I took inventory. The nausea had subsided and my head no longer hurt. Also, my body didn’t feel so heavy tonight. In fact, I felt refreshed. Invigorated.

  How awesome.

  I pulled on a long t-shirt and headed straight for the bathroom. While I was standing in front of the mirror, checking my irises for signs of any changes, Butch came up behind me. I met his gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Hey.”

  “Hey, baby.” His bare chest pressed against my back as he curled his arms around me.

  I snuggled into his warm hold. “There’s no change to my irises.”

  “Lena said your body’s state was frozen again now.”

  “I know, but she also said there are all kinds of symbols in my DNA that she doesn’t understand.”

  He nuzzled my neck. “You don’t look so tired tonight. How do you feel?”

  “Better.”

  “Still queasy?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I feel fine. Really.”

  “Good.” He sucked on my pulse as his hand slid under my t-shirt and closed around my breast. “Because I want to fuck what belongs to me.”

  I was totally down with that. He whipped off my t-shirt one-handed, and I arched into the possessive hold on my breast, hooking my arms around his neck. It felt like months since he’d touched me like this—the sex we had during the transition didn’t count as I barely remembered it—and I’d missed it. Missed him.

  His fingers danced down my navel to my slick folds. He gently squeezed them together, teasing my clit. I gasped. Damn, that felt good. He did it again. And again. And again, driving me freaking insane. I moaned when he rubbed them from side to side. “Butch…”