Luther's Return (Scanguards Vampires Book 10)

He grunted as if he’d expected her response. “Suit yourself.” He opened the driver’s side door and got out. Katie followed on the passenger side.

The chill of the December night air was more severe here. They were at a slightly higher elevation than San Francisco, and though it didn’t snow at this altitude, she could feel the difference in temperature. Instinctively she shivered despite her cardigan. She always kept a change of clothes in the trunk of her car, but unfortunately a thick jacket had not been part of her emergency overnight bag.

“Should have taken that jacket from the closet.”

At Luther’s words she glanced at him. “I don’t steal.”

He scoffed, a derisive look in his dark orbs. “No you don’t, do you? You’ve never even taken as much as a piece of candy as a child? Never committed the tiniest of crimes?”

Her pulse began to race as memories tried to push to the surface. She clenched her jaw. “I don’t steal,” she repeated.

Luther nodded as if he’d caught her in a lie. “Of course not. You’re as pure as the driven snow. Is that why you want to become an accessory now? Because you want to know what it feels like to commit a crime?” A low grunt echoed through the night. He stepped away from the car and walked toward the thicket.

Katie marched after him. “I’m not committing a crime.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Oh yeah? What do you call what we’re about to do?”

“Investigating.” She caught up to him and did her best to keep pace with his long strides.

Luther shook his head. “So you don’t steal, but breaking and entering is okay. What other crimes do you manage to justify to yourself? Just so that I’m prepared.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you consider killing a vampire a crime?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just want to know if your sense of justice extends to vampires. Or whether I’ll need to watch my back to avoid a stake in my heart.”

“I didn’t stake you when you were sleeping.”

“I didn’t sleep,” he claimed, but Katie knew it was a lie. “I was aware of you at all times. If you’d tried anything, I would have had you pinned to the ground in a millisecond.”

“That’s funny,” she responded, “considering you had a nightmare I couldn’t wake you from.”

Luther whirled his head to her, glaring at her. “That’s a lie!”

It wasn’t. In fact, she’d awoken from an uneasy few hours of sleep when she’d heard Luther’s voice. He’d been resting on the couch. When she’d entered the living room, she’d found him tossing. His hands had turned into claws, his fangs fully extended. But his eyes had been closed.

“I shook you by your shoulders, but you didn’t wake.”

“I’m warning you. I don’t have nightmares.”

He looked ahead and increased his tempo, anger rolling off him in waves so violent that she could almost see his aura. It looked like flames were licking around him, trying to consume him.

Equal parts frightened and fascinated, Katie ran her eyes over the powerful vampire, while trying hard not to be left behind. She wasn’t used to this kind of tempo, had never been a runner, and felt woefully out of shape for this kind of nightly exercise. If Luther didn’t slow down, he’d leave her in the dust. He continued to charge ahead as if he didn’t care whether she followed or not.

“Slow down!” she called out to him, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

It irked her that he showed no regard for her limitations. After all, she was human, or witch, not a vampire, who could run without breaking a sweat.

Desperate to make him slow down, she searched for something to make him listen. She grasped at something she’d heard Luther cry out during his nightmare. “Who’s Vivian?”

Luther came to a dead halt. His shoulders pulled back, his hands curled into fists. But he didn’t turn his head, didn’t look over his shoulder. Which was almost worse than if he’d whirled around and glared at her.

Only the breaking of twigs beneath her shoes was audible as she caught up with him. When she reached him, she heard the deliberate breaths that came from Luther. She recognized them. Those were the breaths of a person trying desperately not to succumb to a fit of rage or panic. She knew, because she’d been there before. Been at the point where the sheer mention of a name, of an event, catapulted her back to that moment, making her relive her ordeal again.

And at this very moment, she regretted having asked the question. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, choking back a tear. “That was uncalled for. It’s none of my business. I apologize.”

“No, it’s none of your business. So stay out of my life, or you’ll regret it.”

She already did. But it was too late to take anything back. Too late to turn around and start fresh. They were both in this now, and they had to see it through. Soon, she would have the name of the man who’d kidnapped Isabelle, and with Scanguards’ help, they would catch the guy and rescue Samson’s daughter.