Pool of Crimson

chapter 15



Crimson may have been neutral territory for the preternatural community but it was like shooting fish in a barrel for me. I stood outside in line, waiting for the bouncer to let some of us in. I had slim hopes for myself. I was standing in line with thirty or forty super thin women with more skin showing than fabric. Not one of them was older than 24. I wore an easy and comfortable halter jersey dress that flowed freely from my hips to several inches above my knee. The silky fabric easily covered the garter strapped around my thigh filled with stakes and the sheath on my other thigh encasing my knife. I wore a black cardigan over the electric blue dress. It was freakin’ cold outside. It was October for Christ’s sakes. As the 24-year-olds stood in line shivering, I was comfortable.

At around 10:30 p.m., I finally got inside. The house techno music hit me like a freight train, thumping in time with my heart. Did I mention I hate dance clubs?

I pushed through the crowd clustered around the entrance. The music wasn’t the only thing that hit me. Power and magic pulsed through the building like electricity, humming in my brain and tingling like an icy burn across my skin. There were so many vampires and God only knew what else in the club that I couldn’t pick one out from another. All their power blended together to make a pungent cocktail of static that prickled against my skin, making the hair on my arms stand on end. The closer I got to someone, the easier it was to pick out their power signature from the next. I walked, sifting through them as I went.

I made my way to the bar and got a five-dollar bottle of water. The crowd closed in around me, surrounding me with body heat as sweaty bodies touched my skin and their energy clung to me like lint. I couldn’t take the press of bodies. I stepped on someone’s open-toed shoes and ignored the screech of pain as I fought to get out of the throng. I jabbed people in the ribs, extracting grunts of discomfort, as I made my way to the far side of the club. The space was a decent size, crammed full. It was probably way over the fire code allowance.

Red neon lights jutted out from the ceiling haphazardly with no real sense of symmetry, like slashes of blood in the dark.

A familiar cool push of power caressed against my skin and tickled down my spine, making my fingers tingle. “I don’t need this shit,” I said to myself. It was time to move. I pushed through the people again and away from the seclusion of the corner. I wasn’t sure where I was going, just away. A cool hand grasped my arm from behind, and I turned quickly. I knew who it was before I met his dark gaze. I’d know the feel of his power anywhere.

Patrick stood much too close. I had to look up to see his eyes. If I took a deep breath, I would’ve been pressed against him.

Don’t take that deep breath. Dear God, don’t take that breath.

“We should stop meeting like this,” I said with a clear, calm tone that surprised even me. I hardened the look in my eyes and stiffened my muscles against his grip. “We should stop meeting period,” I finished flatly.

“I don’t like that option,” he said with a smile that almost brought me to my knees.

“I don’t really care what you like,” I said defiantly. See, I could be a big bad ass. I tried to pull my arm away from him, but his grip tightened, almost painfully, around my bicep. He pulled me to him in a violent motion that brought me colliding into his chest. Air left my lungs in a rush with the impact, and I gasped. “Jesus,” I breathed as I tried to yank my arm out of his grasp again.

“I think you do care,” he said, his lips desperately close to mine. They were full and kissable as they curved up into a knowing smile. His cool breath brushed across my lips like a kiss.

Around us, I felt the odd sensation of being consumed in a fog of a cool November morning, thick and blinding for miles. I shook my head to try and clear the fog from my brain. The strange power pushed over and around Patrick’s consistent chilled pressure, as if feeling me out but never overpowering him. This vampire was old, really old but not stronger. The power tasted feminine, almost delicate.

I peered over Patrick’s shoulder and saw her. She was short, so short I almost missed her in the crowd. She was beautiful, breathtaking actually. She was Hispanic, with dark penetrating eyes that met mine with a naughty smile, like she knew what I tasted like without my panties. Her hair was bright yellow in a strategically tousled mess. She walked on and disappeared into the crowd.

I looked back up into Patrick’s eyes and found him watching me closely. His free hand closed around my other bicep quickly. He lifted me from the ground and he slammed me into the wall a few feet behind me. My feet dangled above the floor. The air rushed from my lungs again as my back slammed into the cold, brick wall.

“You can feel us,” he said with a furrowed brow. He locked onto my gaze in confusion as his dark eyes narrowed on me. “Who are you?” he asked as if he didn’t really want to me answer. “What are you?” he breathed against me.

How could I answer a question I didn’t know the answer to myself? I struggled against him. I couldn’t defend myself but what worried me was that I was starting to like it.

“Let me go,” I begged. I couldn’t say another word. His lips crashed down on mine. I opened my mouth to him and slipped my tongue between his teeth, wrapping my legs around his waist as he held me against the wall before I realized that I had done it.

He let go of my bicep and slipped his hand underneath my ass, holding me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him to me. His hand was cool against my bare skin as his fingers dug into the fleshy meat of my ass. I clutched him to me. I didn’t want any space between us. His other hand released my bicep and traveled over my shoulder, up my neck, to my face. He cupped my cheek as the kiss changed to something more tender, more intimate.

His lips were full and soft against mine, his tongue sweet and tenacious, and his hands possessive as he seemed to consume me. The hunger in his kiss made my heart race and flutter, but I wanted the tenderness his lips promised. He inched away slowly, as if relishing every last taste. I’d never been kissed like that, not by Danny, not by anyone.

My chest heaved as desire and fear raced through my system, forcing my lungs to demand more and more air and my stomach to twist into fluttering anxious knots. That soft fog of power brushed over me again as I finally caught my breath. “She’s coming back,” I whispered in soft warning. “We’re about to be discovered.”

“That was supposed to cure me of you,” he whispered hoarsely against my cheek.

I completely understood. I wanted him to kiss me again; wanted it, needed it, dreaded it.

“How’d that work out for you?” I asked with a smirk. He stepped back from the wall, loosening his hold on me. I released the grip I had on him with my thighs and slid my legs down the length of his body until my feet hit the floor on wobbly legs. The hard embodiment of his desire pressed against my pelvis as I regained my balance and relearned how to walk.

He took my hand in his and started through the crowd. I stumbled behind him as I tripped on toes, got a few random hands on my ass and a disgruntled “hey” or two before we made it through the crowd. The chill of fresh air hit my face and cleared my senses. His grip on my hand never slackened. I stepped out onto the sidewalk. A black stretch limo pulled up to the curb. The door opened before I understood that the limo waited for Patrick. He pushed me before him and into the limo.

I’d never been in a limo before. It was surprisingly cramped. Seats lined the walls but there wasn’t a whole lot of empty space. Patrick followed me, in then closed the door behind him.

What am I doing?

I was trapped in a car with a vampire. The look in Patrick’s eyes was hungry and dangerous, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He wanted me. Hunger radiated off of him in waves and my own heat pulsed in response.

“Drive,” he barked to the driver.

“Where to?” the driver asked obediently.

“I don’t care, just don’t stop until I tell you,” Patrick said as he hit a button over his head, raising the privacy wall between us and the driver. I sat back against the seat, suddenly very self-conscious.

What am I doing here? I must have lost my mind ...

Patrick crawled toward me, the muscles in his shoulders seeming to work independently from the rest of his body like a giant cat. I knew then that he was the predator. I was definitely his prey, and I didn’t care.

He reached out and caressed my leg, running his fingers smoothly up my thigh like silk. He pushed the fabric of my dress higher and higher, revealing the edges of my stockings and my garters. I trembled at his touch. His fingers were chilled, desire igniting up my leg straight to my hot, wet sex. I released a quaking breath as his lips brushed my knee, then the inside of my thigh. I threw my head back and grabbed a clump of his hair in each hand. It was coarse and thick between my fingers.

His other hand ran up the inside of my other leg, pushing my thighs apart. He stopped momentarily as his hand brushed over the garter strapped to my thigh with six stakes secured snugly around my leg. I heard a soft growl of want as he licked a path up my thigh, ignoring the garter with the stakes and the sheath on my other thigh. The chill of his nose pressed against the warmth between my legs, sending a shiver through me.

The sound of the sharp tear of threads filled the limo as Patrick’s finger slipped underneath my panties and tugged. The cotton was tight against my skin, pinching as the thin fabric tore. His fingers were chilly against my warm body. The longer he touched me, the warmer his skin became, as if he were stealing my warmth. He jerked on my panties hard, ripping them from my pelvis like they were made of tissue paper.

His tongue flicked lightly against my throbbing warmth. Shudders ripped through me. My entire being quivered with pleasure as his tongue lapped at me. I bit my bottom lip and arched my back, waiting for more. God, I wanted more. He kissed me in a deep open-mouthed kiss as his tongue thrust inside of me. I couldn’t help or stop the moan that escaped my throat. Patrick languorously licked his tongue over my *oris again and again, in a steady sultry rhythm that sent electric shocks of heat through me.

Pressure built from deep inside me as he continued to glide his tongue, which was like raw silk over my engorged nub. He slid his first two fingers inside me and curled them ever so slightly. He moved them in and out in time with his tongue.

“OH ... MY ... GOD,” I said with a heavy, heaving breath as I clutched at his hair. My eyes rolled back in my head as pleasure overwhelmed me and my body convulsed. I tried to cry out as the orgasm took me but I’d been holding my breath in surprise. I had no air to scream. My legs shook with the release. Everything I’d been holding so tightly, anxiety, stress, desire and especially fear, vanished in that glorious moment.

Patrick shifted, and the sound of his zipper falling filled the confinement of the limo over the soft hum of the engine. I wanted to watch him enter me. I wanted to be able to think clearly. I wanted him to touch me again, no matter what it cost me.

He knelt on the seat, his body solid and sculpted, like he’d been chiseled out of pale white marble. His midnight black shirt was unbuttoned, open, framing his beautiful alabaster body. I wanted to reach out and touch him. Every muscle covering his chest and stomach rippled with magnificence. I looked down. He was hard, large, and ready.

Patrick’s face was calm, but serious, as he grabbed my arm and urged my hips up to meet him, pressing my breasts firmly against his rock hard chest. I wrapped my legs around him tightly. He anchored me with his arm under my ass. I could feel his cock rub against the inside of my thigh and the wetness free flowing from me. As he slid inside of me, I realized I’d needed this and that I’d needed him. We melded together perfectly as he began his slow, controlled and titillating rhythm in and out of me. I writhed against him as he thrust.

He kissed me in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of me. My body heat migrated to him as he absorbed my excess. The transference tingled of magic as my skin pressed against his. I liked that I could make his cheeks blush with the heat from my body.

Patrick held my gaze as he pushed himself deep inside of me. The pressure built again as he pumped, again and again. I couldn’t hold back. I was going to come. He stared at me hard as if he were trying to read my mind. I knew what he wanted. At that moment, I wanted every bit of him inside of me that I could get. I tilted my head back as the climax overwhelmed me, exposing my neck and shoulder.

He sank his teeth into me in a sharp prick of pleasure as his climax burst out of him. He pushed the pain into pleasure in a rush of orgasm after rippling orgasm as he lapped at my neck, sucking and tugging at my flesh as he drank. The air swarmed around me with the cool tingle of his power and a mix of something else that I couldn’t place. I’d never felt anything like it. The entire limo stank of magic and sex. I collapsed in his arms, completely spent of energy.

A rush of wind whipped against my back as the endorphins of the orgasm started to fade, swirling around me like I was stuck in the middle of a cyclone. It became difficult to breathe. Patrick’s arms tightened around me as his mouth suckled at my neck. My mind went dark as power slammed into me, like I’d been hit with an air bag on all sides. I heard my own grunt as my body froze without my consent.

I went rigid. Pain seared through my body from my toes to the follicles of my hair. It was sharp and all encompassing. I hadn’t realized Patrick had pulled away until I heard his anguished yell, filling the confined space with the sound of our shared pain.

My nails dug into his skin. His fingers clutched the flesh of my ass as the muscles in his neck tightened, his jaw clenched, and the rosy red of his blood-covered lips became thin as he braced against the pain. My mind shoved against something—I couldn’t determine what—as it seeped into my being. It was too strong, and I couldn’t fight the magic behind whatever was sinking into me. I pulled back a little and softened the line between my mind and the magic pushing up against it. The moment I gave just a little, I saw flashes. Pictures of things I’d never experienced.

Patrick, sitting on a river bank with a cigarette in his hands; a beautiful dark-haired woman standing over me with clear blue eyes and dark hair. I felt his fear, his mortification, and his regret. A lovely blonde with green eyes and an adoring expression on her face. Both women looked like they’d stepped right out of a WWII movie. The blonde smiled at me as she waved from the pier. I felt Patrick’s sadness as he watched her and the shore disappear from sight. I saw the woman from the club with bright yellow hair laughing with her hand on my shoulder, only the shoulder wasn’t mine; it was Patrick’s. I felt his love for her. She was a friend.

My mind cleared and the pain receded as my lungs caught up with the rest of my body, allowing air to finally fill my chest. I released a shuddering breath and loosened my grip on Patrick’s back.

My eyes fluttered open. When I tried to pull my eyelashes apart, I’d been squeezing them shut so hard that the mascara had stuck together, his eyes were wide and filled with fear as his fingers clung to me in desperation. His grip was starting to hurt.

“What the hell was that?” My voice still sounded too far away, and my breath was ragged in my throat.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” he growled, and the rumble of it in his chest made me tighten around him. “Uhh,” he groaned, still inside me. “Sweetheart, you have to let me go,” he said with a laughing plea in his voice.

“Sorry,” I said apologetically. My muscles were still relaxing after the orgasm, and the sharp pain of whatever the hell that was. I loosened the hold my legs had around his waist, then brought my knees down to the seat. He lifted me slightly off the seat and pulled out of me. I felt the loss of him, like I was empty inside. I hated that feeling.

He collapsed down on the seat next to me and closed his eyes as if he were about to go to sleep. His whole body was relaxed and fluid, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

I, on the other hand, was rigid with a whole new sensation ... grief.

I’d crossed a line. I’d slept with him. I slept with the undead, and I enjoyed it. I wanted more. The longer he stayed silent, the more despondent I became. Tears filled my eyes. I was ashamed of myself and the desire I still felt. I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted him to touch me again.

I shouldn’t want him to touch me again. I shouldn’t want to stay.

“How long have you seen them?” he asked, thankfully interrupting my condemnation of myself.

A warm tear slid down my cheek as I turned to him quickly, pushing the dress back down over my ass.

“What?” I bit out, confused.

“The dead,” he said, furrowing his brow but not opening his eyes. “I couldn’t tell how old you were, five maybe six. You were scared and surrounded in the dark. A closet? But they wouldn’t leave you alone. You were rocking back and forth but you couldn’t make them go away,” he said.

The second and third tear grazed my cheeks as my mouth fell open in astonishment. My breath hitched in my throat, making an audible sound of pure anguish.

He opened his eyes and finally looked at me. “How old were you?” he asked again.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t remember a time without them.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks, shook my head, and took a deep breath.

I would not cry. I would not let him see me cry.

He gave me a look that told me he knew exactly what those tears had cost me.

“Did you see anything else?” I asked, almost ashamed of myself for wanting to continue this conversation. I just hoped that was all he’d seen. I couldn’t bear it if anyone knew the torture I’d suffered at my parent’s hand. No one knew about that. NO ONE!

“A few things,” he said as he grabbed for his deep burgundy velvet blazer. He reached into the inside breast pocket and pulled out a familiar pair of panties. It wasn’t too many nights ago that those had been ripped from my body in violence. They dangled in front of my face as a horrible reminder of how close I’d come. “I’m glad you killed him,” he said with a growl that vibrated deep in his chest. A flash of horror surged across my cheeks. “I would’ve killed him myself,” he said as his dark eyes turned to me with anger, vengeance, and violence as he clutched my panties tightly in his fist.

“I-I forgot about those,” I said as the image of the vampire ripping those same panties off me with violence flashed before my eyes. The difference between that night and this one were miles and worlds apart. I hadn’t shied away when Patrick ripped my panties. In fact, I’d been hoping for it. Now I held my head high and looked him in the eye.

“I didn’t,” he said as he shoved them back in his blazer pocket. I guess I wasn’t getting them back. “Did you see anything?” he asked softly a hint of fear in his voice.

“I did,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I pulled my legs in. “Just flashes really. Nothing cohesive.”

He nodded as if he understood I was having problems putting the images into words.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he said, watching me shy away.

“I never imagined you as the talkative type,” I said with a sarcastic quip.

He met my eyes with the hint of a smile in them. “Not normally, no.”

“So why now?” I asked, skepticism making my voice sharp. He leaned back and rested both arms out over the back of the limo seat, presenting a very comfortable façade. He looked comfortable. I felt anything but.

“I want you to know me,” he said as his eyes narrowed in on me. I understood what he wasn’t saying. He wanted me to trust him and I didn’t.

“Okay,” I said as I tucked my feet up under me. I slid my hand along my thigh, close enough to reach the garter belt beneath my skirt. His eyes followed my hand, and his lips made a small upturn at the corner of his mouth. “So who were they?” I asked with an edge of jealousy to my voice that I hadn’t expected. He smiled at that, too.

Bastard.

“Who?” he asked simply, with that cocky, satisfied little smile on his full lips.

“The dark-haired woman with the blue eyes and then the blonde waving from the shore,” I bit out.

“Oh,” he said with a little more reserve and a hint of something dark that I couldn’t identify. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. It wasn’t what I’d expected.

“I was with my unit, the 45th Infantry Division, which landed in Saint-Tropez in Southern France that August. I’d been in Southern France for a few weeks as our unit made its way toward Epinal,” he said, and then took a deep breath and focused his gaze on me. “It was a city I wouldn’t see,” he said without hesitation. He sounded sad as he leaned his head back against the seat of the limo, looking everywhere but at me.

“I remember very clearly that with all my gear on it was still ridiculously hot in September. At any free moment, I was trying to get away from the rest of the unit and have some time alone. I read my letters over and over again until they were worn through, especially the letters from Rose, the blonde. I’m not sure, looking back, that I was in love with her but I believed that I was at the time. I think it was more a combination of the stress of war and having something to look forward to once I got home. I’d created a romanticized version of her in my mind.” He turned his head and finally looked at me. His eyes were dark and shadowed. A shiver ran up my spine as I met his gaze.

“It was just after dusk when I ventured out on my own into the high grass of a field,” he said. “I pulled out my cigarettes and my letters. I’d just gotten a new letter from Rose. I was extremely homesick. Even if the letter was three months old, it was something. Rose’s letters reminded me of a time when I wasn’t plagued by nightmares, death, disease, suffering, and remorse.”

“The unit had made camp along the Rhone River, and I walked as far away from prying eyes as I could get and still have the camp lights in sight. I remember sitting in the grass and smelling her letters for the longest time. I’d convinced myself that I could still smell her in the paper instead of the stench of my own sweat and other people’s blood seeping into the paper. I was delusional, of course.” He smiled at me with chagrin. It was a faint little half-hearted smile that made me smile back in reassurance.

“I reached for my lighter and lit a cigarette. I realize now that it was the cigarette that they saw and not necessarily me. I heard the pop and felt the jab in my chest, but I wasn’t completely sure what had happened. It was hard to catch my breath, but I was almost numb all over. I fell back on the ground when I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. I was confused when I couldn’t get my legs to work to stand and run away. I knew I was supposed to run away. I gasped for air as panic consumed me. I was alone. No one knew where I was. I was lost. I know this will sound silly, but all I could think of was that Rose would never know what had happened to me.”

He was quiet for a long while and I remained silent, afraid to move.

“She was like an angel standing over me,” he continued, almost misty eyed. “I knew I had to be dead. I tried to speak but couldn’t find the air to push my words out.” He turned to me with pleading eyes. “She had dark hair that flowed free in the breeze and soft pale skin with the most translucent blue eyes. She was beautiful. I thought I’d been rescued by an angel.”

“‘You are dying, my beautiful,’ she said to me so matter-of-factly in a thick French accent. I almost didn’t understand her at first. Once I grasped her meaning, I was startled. She was speaking to me of death as if it hadn’t happened yet. I could hear my own gurgling in my throat as I tried to breathe. I was drowning in my own blood, and I suddenly understood. I knew it in my bones. She smiled down at me and it was welcoming. Death was welcoming me home. I was both terrified and delighted by her smile. ‘You can perish here on the bank of this river and meet your maker, or you can come with me,’ she said carefully. At that moment, I felt that going with her had to be better than dying. When I nodded, she took my hand gently like she could hurt me. ‘You will not regret it,’ she’d said so confidently. She picked me up and carried me off like I weighed nothing, even with all my gear on. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up and realized that I was no longer the man I’d been. I felt different, more alive, but apart.”

He’d made a choice. Was it the wrong choice? Would I have made the same choice? I don’t know.

“When I awoke, I wasn’t alone. My angel had brought me home to her mate,” he said with a slight smile on his face. He looked like he was remembering a pleasant childhood memory.

“Ethan?” I asked. He nodded and turned to me with an appreciative smile on his face.

“Ethan and Margot were my family. They taught me everything, how to hunt and how to be smart about it. They taught me how to exist in the human world without being noticed and how to survive in it. They were my parents, my family, and my friends. I’ve never regretted my decision ... I would be dead now if I had refused her.” He was quiet for a moment before he continued. He looked reticent and almost wistful. “I do think, sometimes, that I miss being human. I do wonder that if I hadn’t been shot and on the verge of death if Margot would have taken the chance to turn me?” He flexed his hands along the back of the seat.

“What happened to Margot?” I asked, suddenly sullen. The grimace that spread over his face showed the pain that was still so close to his heart.

“She was murdered by a rival colony in retribution for some of Ethan’s activities,” he said softly.

“What happened to Rose?” I asked softly, not wanting him to hear the jealousy that burned through me. He smiled at me, and I could have sworn that I saw his dark eyes twinkle in the lighting overhead.

“I was dead to her. One of the thousands of soldiers missing in action. She eventually married and had children. I think she was happy. She’s been dead for several years now.” There was no regret in his voice. He talked like he was speaking of an old classmate and not a woman he supposedly loved.

I let that sink in for a while in silence as I processed what I’d just heard. “You said you needed me alive. Why?”

He turned his head and looked at me with eyes bright with pride. He turned in his seat and faced me, exposing me once again to his beautiful body and the shimmer of his pale alabaster skin in the soft dome light.

“Ethan is my Liege, but I think he’s lost his mind. He’s become power hungry and vengeful. He’s planning on killing the local pack Alpha. Dean ...” he said as he closed his eyes and pushed his hand through his hair forcefully.

“Dean’s a friend,” I said softly.

“He is,” he said simply. “Ethan’s concocted this ridiculous plan. He’s forbid me from speaking of it with anyone, and I can’t seem to break that hold,” he said, slamming his fist down into the seat.

“Ethan’s raising a demon,” I said, an anxious edge to my voice. Fear simmered in Patrick’s dark eyes. I saw the helplessness in the slump of his shoulders and the thin line of his usually full lips.

“That is Ethan’s intention. He won’t be able to control it either and he doesn’t seem to care. That damned thing could kill us all,” he growled.

“He needs the amulet,” I said sheepishly as I looked up at him from underneath my lashes. His hand reached underneath my chin and tipped my face up to meet his narrowed eyes.

“You have it?” he asked. I nodded once. His dark eyes closed with a sigh of relief. “Good. Keep it. Wear it. Don’t take it off. He doesn’t have anyone strong enough to wield it and control this thing,” he spat out. “Maybe if he can’t find the amulet, he’ll give this plan up.”

“You don’t believe that, though, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You don’t seem to have any problems discussing this with me,” I pointed out.

He looked at me in surprise and smiled with a devilish little upturn of his mouth. “No, I don’t, do I?”

“What does that mean?”

He released his ferocious grip on my chin and cupped my cheek tenderly instead.

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t be able to break the bonds of my blood oath, not with you, not with anyone.” He pushed a strand of hair from my face and met my eyes. “What are you?” he asked me again.

I still didn’t have an answer. “I’ve been told I smell like old magic,” I whispered.

“Ancient, actually,” he whispered, pulling me to him as his lips crashed into mine. His tongue pushed past my teeth and licked at the inside of my mouth. As his lips devoured mine, I understood how so many people walked eagerly to their deaths. To be lost just once in this easy intoxication was sinful and better than a lot of other deaths I could imagine.

I pulled away to catch my breath and opened my eyes. His gaze sparkled with delight and what I thought might have been contentment. I ran my fingers through his hair again. I was afraid that it was the last time I would be able to do it. I was afraid that once dawn came, I’d think better of everything and realize how much danger I’d put myself in. I would be right. Too bad I hadn’t thought of that an hour ago.

“I won’t let him touch you,” he said almost defiantly. “I think I understand better why he wants you for himself. I won’t let that happen.” He brushed my hair back and gazed at me like I mattered to him. I couldn’t trust it. He wanted something from me. It seemed that everyone wanted something from me.

“Why?” I asked, skepticism dripping from that one word.

“There’s power in you and if he can control it, I fear what he’ll do with it, with you. He’s gone quite mad in the last half century since Margot died.”

“You talk like I have no choice in the matter,” I said defiantly as I backed away, my anger showing in the rigid posture of my body and the stiffness in my shoulders. I wanted to be able to think, and I couldn’t think with his arms wrapped around me like a velvet vise.

“Dahlia, if he took you for his own and completed the ceremony for you to become a bonded servant, you wouldn’t have any say left,” he said calmly, but I heard the underlying fear. He didn’t want that to happen. Hell, I didn’t want that to happen. We could agree on that. An overwhelming sense of dread overtook me, and I wasn’t sure it was mine. The dread was based on knowledge I didn’t have. I met his eyes and realized that he could feel my confusion just as easily as I could feel his dread.

“What’s happening?” I asked, fear finally making my voice quake as I spoke.

“I think our magic’s mated. We’re linked,” he said with defeat in his voice as he reached for his pants. “I wish I could ask you to stay clear of this mess, but you’re linked to me now and,” he said as he slipped his pants back on and turned his resignation filled eyes to me, “I think you may be the only hope I have.”

I felt how torn he was and my gut wrenched with his emotion. I needed to get away from him and see if this awful sensation would stop. I didn’t like feeling my own emotions, let alone someone else’s. I hit the button for the partition between us and the driver.

“Stop the car,” I said forcefully. The car came to a sudden stop, and I held on to keep myself from tumbling onto the floor. I got up and reached for the door. Patrick grabbed my wrist, not hard, just enough for me to hesitate. I looked back at him with what I hoped passed for conviction. He sighed and, with a defeated shake of his head, released my hand. I stepped out into the darkness. The driver had stopped a few blocks from my house. Good job.

I looked down the street in both directions. It was quiet and deserted in the late hour. The streets were strangely eerie now that I knew someone was waiting in the dark to snatch me up. I wouldn’t let Patrick see my concern. I wouldn’t let him feel it, either. “Don’t worry about me,” I said with a smile. “I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said as he sat back against the seat of the limo.

I closed the door, then tapped the roof twice. The limo pulled away without hesitation.

I watched it go. I didn’t like the idea of being bonded or linked or whatever Patrick wanted to call it. I didn’t like that my mind had already gone to images of Patrick over me and the feeling of his body next to mine. I didn’t like how weak I’d turned out to be.

I was cold as I walked the five blocks to my house. A shiver ran from my shoulders down to my toes as the wind caressed the bare skin on my legs. It was the first time in a long time that I wanted someone there when I got home. I’d managed on my own for more than a decade. I could survive this, too. I would survive this.