by L. D. Rose
Might as well start digging his own grave now, since he’d probably end up buried in it by the end of this.
Right beside Maddy.
Kayne popped his head back outside. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” Dax cursed under his breath. “Let’s go.”
TEN
She’d overheard everything. Every painful word.
Huddled under the huge bed in the master bedroom, Cindel kept her ear pressed to the carpet as the door slammed behind them. She breathed out a shaky sigh of respite but didn’t move, simply laid there, stewing in her thoughts.
What would Dax think of her now?
Would he decide to finish what he’d started, to finally rid himself of her?
Whore. Junkie. Leech. Even if she’d never taken the drugs voluntarily, the hybrid would probably presume otherwise.
Cindel shut her eyes against the awful memories emerging from the dark caverns of her mind. The last time Victor had injected her, she’d become violently ill for days on end—so ill she’d prayed for death, for anything but the suffering she’d endured. The fact he’d used her as a test only drove the knife deeper into her heart.
You’ll like it, he’d said with a smile on his gaunt face, as if she enjoyed anything he’d put her through.
The convent was gone, reduced to ashes, and good riddance to it. She wondered if Victor had perished along with it.
She hoped so.
And now this Ballard was after her, a powerful sire, hunting her for God knew what reason. Fear crept up her spine at the notion of Alek being aware of any of this. Did Ballard know her true origins? If he found her, would he deliver her to her maker? Keep her for himself? Use her as some kind of leverage?
If she’s dead, all the better.
Maybe the Irish hybrid was right. Maybe she was better off dead. She didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to return to her old life, didn’t want to flee anymore. She was so tired of playing these games, of running from the inevitable.
He lied for you.
The whisper was a beacon of light in the dark, a brilliant blue flash within the black ocean of her mind. Dax didn’t give her up. He’d kept her presence secret when he could’ve easily surrendered her and put an end to this madness. Why? Why was he willing to protect her, even from his comrades?
Whatever the reason, she hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about her.
You’re wallowing. Make yourself useful.
Crawling out from beneath the bed, Cindel decided to vent her angst on cleaning instead.
While she scrubbed away the bloodstains in the kitchen, her worries only intensified, sprinkled with erotic visuals of him underneath her, grabbing hold of her hair and dragging her to his mouth. Sexy, gorgeous, his eyes dark as sapphires, his piercings glittering like stars. With his intoxicating scent in her nose, she couldn’t resist touching him, tasting his hot skin, reveling as his every muscle hardened beneath her while she ground against him.
When that tongue ring slipped past her lips, she would’ve done just about anything to feel it between her legs.
He craved her, almost as badly as she craved him. And she’d chipped away at his walls enough to let him show it.
Now she needed to bring the entire glacial barricade down.
The night passed quickly as she finished up her chores, showered, then dressed in a loose sweater and jeans. She plopped down on the carpet in the living room, beside a pile of overturned picture frames and a desiccated plant. Browsing the images of Maddy and her family, she glimpsed their precious moments of time, walks on the beach, ice cream in the park, sun-drenched photos of pure bliss.
But she couldn’t shake the hologram of the girl’s screaming skull against the fairytale backdrop of her bed.
Their smiling faces tugged at her heartstrings and Cindel wondered if she’d had a family before she turned. She certainly never had one after, for she was never truly part of the Temhota, no matter how often Alek involved her in their matters. She wasn’t strigoi, a born vampire, and it made her an outcast in his circle. All she’d been was his weak, feeble wife, following him around and taking orders like a dog.
Taking beatings like one too.
Suppressing her self-loathing and focusing back on the photos, Cindel envied the love on their human faces, the affectionate way the couple held one another and their daughter. She longed for Maddy’s innocence, for when the world was still good, where evil hadn’t yet sunk its claws into her soul. Had there ever been a time in her own life when she felt peace?
No. Never. She’d never experienced solace.
She only hoped Maddy had before she died.
The main door slammed downstairs, reverberating through the apartment’s walls, heralding Dax’s arrival. Cindel’s heart stuttered at the sound.
He was early. Dawn had yet to grace the skies.
She hastily set the pictures down, flipping them back over as they’d been. Rushing over to the sofa, she curled up in the corner and hugged her legs, resting her head on the cushion as if she’d fallen asleep there.
Taking a steadying breath, she braced herself for the worst as he entered, pulling off his ski cap to reveal his disheveled black hair.
Cobalt eyes found hers in the twilight, narrowing at her with suspicion. His nostrils flared, likely scenting the sterile cleaning products. He looked exhausted, weary, the dark circles under his eyes standing out in sharp relief to his pale olive skin. Blood spattered his cheeks, soaked his clothes, hitting her senses with the razor’s edge of smoke and incense.
More dead vampires.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Hello.” She managed a smile, propping her chin on her knees, strands of dark hair sweeping over her face. Shame and insecurity overwhelmed her all over again.
Whore. Addict. Leech.
He scanned the living room, glancing inside the adjacent kitchen. “Thanks for cleaning up.” He sounded earnest. “You didn’t have to.”
She shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”
His eyes remained locked on hers as he moved for the balcony, his footfalls subdued by the carpet. Drawing back the heavy drapes, he displayed the outside world. “It’s snowing.”
Her heart skipped a beat as she lifted her head. “Snow? In April?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty steady too. Take a look.”
She clambered to her feet, a surge of excitement propelling her across the room. The charcoal sky stretched for an eternity while calm, dark waves gently lapped at the shore, as if apologizing for the past week’s lashing. A crescent moon peered out from behind the clouds, its reflection shattering into silver streaks across the black water. A handful of stars winked back at her, yet most remained hidden from sight.
But it was all background music compared to the countless snowflakes dotting the landscape, billowing in the soft wind.
Her jaw went slack, her eyes widening at the sight. Beautiful. A real-life snow globe paradise that held no beginning or end.
As if reading her expression, Dax asked, “Have you ever seen snow before?”
She nodded. “Yes. But I’ve never felt it.”
A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. She could almost hear his mind analyzing her response. Then, his lips curved before he motioned to the landscape. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go outside and enjoy it.”
Unable to resist a grin, she threw on her sneakers and bolted outside, dashing across the street. Her skin instantly chilled, but she didn’t care, ignoring the icy asphalt beneath her soles. Halting at the docks, she nearly slid on the fluffy white powder that had already accumulated, catching herself before she fell.
She glanced back over her shoulder as Dax trailed behind her, slowing to a stop by the fractured stairs of the condo complex. She r
aised her cupped hands, capturing the flakes as they tumbled. They melted when they alighted on her palms, but she glimpsed their distinct shapes before they vanished.
A childlike joy filled her to the brim as she tossed her arms out and spun around, letting out a delighted laugh. She’d always been imprisoned somewhere—Alek’s mausoleum, Victor’s convent, or bedded by another faceless vampire—and most days she’d hardly been able to summon the strength or will to even crawl out of bed.
She never imagined she’d live long enough to bask in winter’s cold kisses on her skin.
Without warning, something thumped against her back, solid but yielding as it struck. She whirled around to find Dax scooping more snow off the ground, molding it into a ball as he grinned.
Did he just throw a snowball at her?
Ecstatic, she dropped down and gathered as much snow in her hands as possible, but he launched another before she had a chance to shape it, and his landed on the side of her head.
She shrieked with laughter as he ran after her, collecting more snow en route. Scrambling toward the beach, she attempted to form another projectile but the snow kept falling apart in her hands. When she dove for cover behind the rock wall, she fashioned a ball of wet sand and fired it at him. He tried to block it, but it smashed into his ribs and he unleashed a comical curse. Having him right where she wanted him, she didn’t let up. They continued to assail each other, laughing and shouting like kids.
“You can’t hide back there forever!” He advanced on her, blocking and dodging her shots. Speeding up, he moved way too fast as he sailed over the wall and landed in a burst of sand in front of her.
She raised an arm, sandball in place, ready to chuck it at him.
He grabbed her wrist mid-pitch, cutting off her momentum as the ball flopped from her hand.
And instinct seized control of her body before logic could intervene.
She flinched, recoiling, throwing an arm up in front of her face in defense. He hadn’t made any motion to hit her with malicious intent, but the urge to shield herself had been so ingrained in her reflexes, she couldn’t deny it, especially with her guard down.
The gesture brought him to a startling halt, and his face not only fell, it plummeted into shock and disbelief. He released her, stunned as she dropped back onto the cold sand, landing hard on her rear end. Guilt and humiliation inundated her, warming her cheeks as his expression shut down, rapidly emptying to mask the emotion on his face.
But his eyes blazed like twin blue flames, burning brighter as the distance between them grew for miles.
Her vision blurred as a gust of wind whipped past them, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. She sat there, sprawled on the beach as he loomed over her, tense as a bowstring. Anger radiated from him like propane gas, ignited by the fire in his eyes, his jaw wound so tight the fine muscles practically leapt off his face.
“Cindy.” He somehow managed to say her name evenly, albeit through gritted teeth. “Why would I hit you?”
She shook her head, bowing it in shame, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. You always ruin everything. “I’m sorry—”
“Look at me,” he snapped, then cursed.
It took her a moment to meet his searing gaze, to muster up the courage through her slurry of regret. The pain that flickered in his expression nearly sent her eyes to the ground again, her chest swelling with a sob.
Ruiner.
He took a single step toward her. “I’m not one of the monsters who used you.”
Her heart cracked down the middle, her chin trembling as the tears flowed faster. She couldn’t utter a word, not without breaking down into a blubbering mess even she couldn’t bear to deal with.
He crouched in front of her, seeming to gather his own strength to speak, but his eyes and his aura never stopped smoldering in all their fury. “I will never hurt you. If anyone ever raises a hand to you, don’t you dare cower, don’t you dare grovel at their feet. You fucking kill that scumbag where he stands. Do you understand me?”
At the emotions warring on his face, she swallowed past the suffocating lump in her throat.
“Say it,” he growled.
“Yes.” She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, unable to hold his fierce regard any longer. “I understand.”
He leaned toward her, the icy-heat of his aura intensifying as he gently gripped her forearms and tugged her hands away. She looked at him through a bleary lens, hating herself more than anything else in that excruciating moment between them.
“Who did this to you?” he murmured, his timbre vibrating with leashed rage. “Was it Victor?”
She bit back another sob, wishing she could tell him everything, wanting to drop this terrible burden of secrets from her shoulders. She shook her head, clenched her jaw, if only to stop her teeth from chattering.
“Tell me, Cindy.” His voice softened, and it was the tenderness that did her in. “Who hurt you?”
“Someone else.” The words scraped past her lips in a whisper, fragile and broken. It was the best she could do. “Everyone else.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line, a slash of disappointment carved into his hard features. “Your sire?”
Lowering her head again, she shook once, tacking another lie onto her mountain of deceit. But every untruth she spoke to him hurt far worse than anyone else she’d encountered.
She didn’t want to lie to him anymore.
The first of the sun’s rays illuminated the dark, the sky brightening by the second. She inhaled sharply when tingles of alarm skittered across her skin, from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes. The snow ceased falling, a rueful retreat at their distress.
Turning her numb palms up, she watched the last of the snowflakes die in her hands.
After what seemed like ages, Dax pushed to his feet, glancing at the gray horizon. “C’mon,” he said, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. “Let’s get you inside.”
He helped her stand, handling her with care, as if she were a delicate object that would shatter at any moment. Shuddering with another warning chill, Cindel hugged herself, and he shrugged out of his nylon jacket, enfolding it around her like a cloak. His hand briefly lingered between her shoulder blades before it slipped off her spine, a brand that quickly cooled in its absence. She greedily accepted every token of kindness, every sliver of his attention, and held it close to her aching heart.
You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve any of this. Liar.
Ruiner.
Wretch.
~ ~ ~
Once they reached the shelter of the condo, she put even more distance between them.
And Dax’s blood simmered.
He was going to filet whoever had done this to her, vampire or not.
Pacing to the center of the living room, Cindy spun to face him, still avoiding his eyes and tucking her head down. “Thank you,” she said, her voice feather-soft. “For your jacket.”
The way she huddled under his coat made him want to drag her in his arms, to comfort and ease even a fraction of the pain etched into her features. And he couldn’t deny the rage boiling in his veins at just the notion of the abuse she must’ve endured.
Not to mention the fact she’d expected it from him.
He nodded tightly, once up, once down. Staring at this beautiful, devastating creature, he couldn’t evoke a response, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Since when was a vampire a victim? Never, in his book. Every leech he’d confronted was nothing short of a sociopath, powered by bloodlust, mayhem, and destruction. Not some battered woman with red-rimmed eyes and the face of an angel.
Apparently, the black print on his white pages was starting to smudge.
“I’m going to shower.” He finally broke the tense silence. “Bed
’s yours. Give me a few minutes.”
“I don’t mind sleeping here—”
“Take the bed,” he cut her off harshly, pitched a sigh, and tried again. “Please.”
The corner of her mouth lifted in a somber half-smile and the vise on his heart squeezed tighter. “Okay. I’ll wait here then.”
Settling on the couch, she pushed her damp raven strands out of her eyes and bunched his jacket closer. When she’d stood outside in the snow, spinning and laughing and shouting, the pure joy on her face had crossed a few wires in his brain. Now he couldn’t picture her as anything less than human, not after she’d begged him to bury a child’s bones, not after she’d flung a snowball at him with delight, not after she’d fucking cowered from him as if he would ever fucking hit her.
“I’ll be back,” he muttered and scaled the stairs before he did something he’d regret.
Shucking off his sullied clothes in the bathroom, he met his weary reflection, pale and rusted with blood. He pressed his fingers to his busted cheekbone and it throbbed in response, the scab scratching at his skin. It had finally stopped bleeding, but it still felt exceptionally tender after a leech bashed his face into a drainpipe. His headache had begun to abate, but his wounds were the least of his worries.
Someone else . . . everyone else.
Throwing a dark towel over the window, he tried not to think about what Catalin had done to her, what Ballard wanted from her. Cursing, he turned on the shower, cranked it to hot, testing the water with his hands. Once the spray reached a tolerable temperature, he climbed in, nearly groaning as the spray buffeted his sore muscles, soothing his aches and pains. Bruises covered him in a patchwork quilt of mottled color with various shapes and sizes, the largest spanning his entire left flank.
If he started pissing blood, then he’d fret.
Dax closed his eyes, exhaustion enveloping him like the steam along his skin. He’d hardly slept in the past week, and after fighting monsters for days on end, he felt like roadkill.