chapter 10
Since reapers traveled the globe harvesting souls, there was never a guarantee of making it back to faerie. Sithens—entrances into the fae realm—were only in a few spots around the world. Unlike most of his brothers and sisters, Frenzy had always planned ahead for the nights when he couldn’t make it back home. He had homes scattered all over, cabins that he hadn’t visited in decades, sometimes centuries, keeping them guarded from rust or decay with wards and spells.
Gathering up what few supplies they had, he wrapped Mila in his arms and transported them to a small cabin lost in the middle of the redwood forest. She didn’t speak, just clung to his back, still practically naked except for a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt.
That he didn’t mind at all.
He smirked, but quickly turned serious again.
Something had happened to him, to them, back there in George’s woods. The sex had been incredible, but that wasn’t the difference. Perhaps he hadn’t been fair to her, expecting her to adapt to this new lifestyle without incident. Because in his head, things were as they were. There were no grays in his world; it was all black and white, yes and no. Life was what it was, and he accepted it and moved on.
Adrianna’s death had taught him that. There were things he could not change, no matter how badly he might want to. But maybe he was wrong.
It irked him to think so. Old as he was, he’d prided himself on seeing truth for what it is. Inevitable. Unyielding.
And yet staring into Mila’s eyes, he’d felt like he’d glimpsed a vision of her soul. Of the ugliness that she’d battled through the years. It’d been humbling and disconcerting because there was so much pain inside her it’d stolen the breath from his body. He understood that pain, understood the need to guard and keep others at bay. Far from your heart, from your soul…to not let others in because it hurt too damn much.
He’d closed himself off after Adrianna. Become a monster, become vicious and so cold that eventually it’d been second nature. Eventually he’d turned all emotion off; any need he’d ever desired to know and be known had died with her.
But this little other, this baby…she understood that need. He’d read the truth of it in her eyes and he couldn’t help but respond in kind.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting the world in long shadows. The woods were eerily quiet, a rolling white fog curling slowly along jewel green moss. This land did not belong to faerie, but it filled him with peace all the same. Made the angry hornet’s nest of too many thoughts quiet down, helped him to take an easier breath. A fae was tied to nature, to the balance and harmony of colors and the purity of a land undisturbed by the poison of those who only sought to control and possess it.
Trees with clay-red-colored bark towered above them, standing like sentinels, guarding them from prying eyes.
The cabin was nothing more than a solid A-frame of logs, with two small windows and a small stone chimney on top. He’d built this place back in the early nineteenth century; nothing fancy, just a place to rest his head during the long winter nights.
It was dark and slightly foreboding, but that was simply part of the ward he’d placed on it. A repellent to make any unwary passersby continue on.
Adjusting the strap of their shared duffel bag, he gestured toward the door. She stood a little to the side and behind him, her liquid amber eyes huge in her pale face. The way the sun shone through the leaves highlighted the prominent scars on her cheeks. She looked like some wild thing with twigs and bark poking up from the strands of her blond hair. There was blood streaked across her neck and jaw, and peach-tipped nipples jutted proudly from her smooth, alabaster breasts. He swallowed hard. She was a nightmarish vision and his mouth watered because what they’d done back there had only fed his beast.
The way she moved, stealthily, easily through the trees, how she no longer blushed about her nudity or his…the transformation from human to other was fully beginning to grip her. But he couldn’t help but wonder which side would manifest strongest.
Vampires were sensual creatures, consumed with their need for violence, sex, and blood. Shifters merely for the feed. It’d taken George a millennium to break the hunger’s hold on his sanity.
Her eyes roamed his body, languishing, reveling in every dip and curve of his flesh. Making him hot and aware that they were alone, that for now, the shadow couldn’t find them.
“What?” he asked finally, sensing her need to talk.
At first it appeared like she might not say anything. “This.” She gestured at the open space. “Even out here, in the middle of nowhere. I’m not safe, am I?”
The melancholy was back in her eyes, but not the anger this time. “Did you enjoy my blood?” he finally asked, not sure why. He knew she had; he’d felt it in the way her body had trembled, her touch had turned frantic.
Her lashes fluttered, but her stare did not waver.
Stepping toward her, he nodded. “Because I did.”
She licked her lips. “Really? It didn’t turn you off?” The last was a mere thread of sound.
Lips twitching, he shook his head. “Come inside, woman. We have to finish this discussion, but I don’t want you out here another second.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she reached his side, taking the hand he offered. In less than a minute he was opening the door.
The cabin had the old musty odor closed homes usually did.
“Where are the lights?” She traced the wall with her hand, gazing at him, perplexed.
He smiled. “I built this home in 1901.”
Her nostrils flared. “You built?”
“I did. Try not to sound so disbelieving.”
She laughed and the sound was nice. Shivery and dulcet all at once. She seemed different now. Not quite so tense or ready to do battle.
“That’s very domestic for a faerie.”
Frenzy snorted. “I like to work with my hands, it helps me think.”
“Think?” she inquired, and he had to admit, he liked this more open side of her. For so long he’d been closed off, not willing to share any part of himself with another soul, but he sensed she needed this. They were walking a tightrope right now: one wrong word or move and they’d be back to arguing, hissing and spitting at one another. He didn’t want that and, he sensed, neither did she.
Rubbing at a speck of dust on the counter, he shrugged. “After Adrianna’s death, I was lost. I became the monster of nightmare.” He shuddered remembering the countless times he’d wake up and realize he was coated in blood, a snarling, raving lunatic hell-bent on revenge. It was like he’d been two different people: one who was void of emotion, so numb that even a child’s laughter couldn’t have pulled a smile onto his face, and then there’d been the creature walking through the night, wreaking chaos and mayhem wherever he went. Using his hand to fell anything that dared to walk in his way.
She smiled softly, as if unsure. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have asked.”
Waving off her concern, he walked over to a drawer in the kitchen. Opening it, he pulled out a thick, cream-colored beeswax candle and a book of matches that he’d left sometime in the late seventies. Pointing at a small cabinet inset within a pantry, he jerked his chin. “There are a few more in there. Grab what you can.”
He probably should say more, try to calm her worries that she’d insulted him somehow, but he didn’t want to dredge up any memories of Adrianna’s ghost. Not now. She didn’t belong in this moment.
Turning, she did as he asked, pulling out another five. “Where do I put them?”
Her voice was calm, taking her cue from him, and he felt an inexplicable urge to hug her, which he promptly ignored.
His cabin was as sparsely furnished as his apartment in San Francisco had been. This was a one-room home: kitchen, bedroom, bathroom all shared the same space. There was a bronze horse trough he’d used to wash in resting against a corner, a small frame bed big enough to sleep two with a feather-down mattress he’d stuffed himself. A kitchen table that would seat four. An armoire to fit his clothes in, an icebox to store perishables, and a farmhouse sink he’d installed. Water ran in from the natural spring well out back.
“Put them on the table.”
Licking her lips, she set down the fat candles, which he proceeded to light one by one. “I hate to break it to you, but this place needs some serious updating.” She chuckled, and the sound of it washed against his flesh, brought color to her snow white cheeks.
“Part of its charm.”
“Charm?” Turning in a slow circle with her hands planted on her hips, she shook her head. “Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?”
Setting the matchbook aside, he leaned against the kitchen counter. He really needed to get her more clothes, something not quite so revealing—it was distracting to look upon so much female beauty and not want to return to what they’d been doing not even an hour ago.
“What would you call it?”
Picking up a crocheted yarn blanket off the foot of his bed, she sniffed it. “Antiquated. Old. Ancient—”
He snorted and crossed his feet. “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘charming.’”
“Pft. You wish. It stinks like my aunt Telly’s rubbing ointment for her bad knees. It smells like old people and”—she laughed again—“I thought the other place was minimal, this is positively medieval.”
He shrugged. “It suits me. Does what I require.” His eyes drew down her form. “You need clothes. And another bath.”
She rubbed her chest, smearing the caking blood. “What? Red doesn’t suit me?”
“Suits you too well.” He shoved off the counter. “I’m going into town to get some supplies. The shadow arrived too soon for me to grab much other than some soaps and toothbrushes.”
At the mention of the shadow she visibly pulled into herself. The verve and vitality so present just seconds ago vanished as her eyes roamed around their place, out the windows into the woods beyond.
He shook his head. “You are safe from her tonight.”
“How do you know that?” She crossed her arms over her breasts in a defensive posture.
“Because I injected enough death into her to sink her into a coma for at least a couple weeks. Go out back, there’s a lake. Take some of the supplies in the bag, whatever you need. Don’t stay out too long; this cabin is very isolated, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes with food and clothes.”
Her jaw jutted out and she merely nodded an okay where before his ordering her about would have turned into a battle of wills.
Zipping open the bag, she knelt and began rummaging through it. The flickering flame played off her body, highlighting the sweet curves of her ass, the graceful line of her back and supple thighs. His body responded and it shocked him that it could. He hadn’t felt a need to be with a woman for too long, so long he didn’t know how to act or think.
She must have felt his look because she turned to look at him, cocking her head in question.
“Nothing.” He turned on his heels and headed back out the door.
* * *
Mila watched him go with questions pounding through her skull. After the sex in the glen, they’d been doing a weird sort of dance around each other. The stupid cry fest had been good for her, gotten rid of the festering poison inside, but now she felt exposed. Like he’d seen a side of her few ever did; it made her anxious and aware in a way she hadn’t been before—that this was it.
This was her life now. She could rant and rave and piss and moan about it, but it changed nothing. The thought of offing herself felt wrong, not because she was suddenly in love, but because when he’d kissed her, moved inside her body for the first time in so long, she knew she wasn’t alone.
It wasn’t a fight she’d have to shoulder full responsibility for again. And it was strange thinking that, because she wasn’t sure where they stood. She hadn’t exactly made a habit of one-night stands in life, so she was socially inept at navigating these waters.
You’d think in afterlife, things like embarrassment and humiliation would cease to exist. They really didn’t; in fact, they intensified by about tenfold.
Riffling through the bag, she yanked out a bottle of shampoo and conditioner, a hairbrush, toothbrush and paste, and a towel. There were some clothes in the bag, but mostly his stuff.
It was surprising to her that she really didn’t care about wearing so little clothing, being practically naked in front of him constantly. Just yesterday it’d been hard to watch him sleep in the buff. Now today she was walking around with her breasts hanging out and her hoo-ha on display and barely thought about it. Just didn’t seem all that important anymore.
But the way he’d been eyeing her, maybe it was best if she at least attempted to cover up. Feel more human. Grabbing a plain gray T-shirt from the bottom of the bag, she exited the depressingly small cabin and made her way to the back.
The woods were electric.
It was amazing how different the world smelled, tasted, looked, now that she was immortal. The setting sun was a deeper shade of yellow. The orange and pink streaks across the sky more jewel-toned, and the green of the leaves was an intense shade of color.
The water was also different. She could smell it in a way she never had before. There was the obvious, fish and muck and brine, but there was more. Each molecule within each individual drop had its own distinctive scent. All her life she’d been taught hydrogen and oxygen had no odor, but that wasn’t true. Even the most sensitive machine couldn’t pick up on it, but there was a smell.
It was salt and mineral, earth and clay all rolled into one. She inhaled again, letting it coat her lungs.
Nesting owls in the trees above smelled of rodent and berries. The soil was rich and pungent. A blackberry bush beckoned her with its sweetness.
This was it.
The vibrancy of life she’d never known existed before manifested itself in a new way—it was more than the colors or the scents, it was tangible. Awed, she held her arms out, watching as the sun played off her skin, and smiled, because it didn’t burn. She wasn’t sure what it meant to be a hybrid exactly, but maybe being part shifter and vampire had its perks, because she didn’t have to fear the sun or the night.
She inhaled deeply, calmer than she’d been in ages.
A hand clamped onto her shoulder and she screamed, tossing everything she held as she jumped onto the nearest tree branch.
Frenzy gazed at her with a perplexed question in his silver eyes. “It’s only me.” He held up his hands.
She frowned, heart still thundering a violent cadence in her chest. It was strange how she felt her heart’s movement since drinking from his vein. Before that it’d been a hollow, empty feeling inside of her. Drinking his blood had made her feel human again.
“Why’d you come back?” She grabbed her chest, flattening her palm against her breast, scanning the woods. “Did you see something?”
Greasy fear twisted her stomach in knots.
He frowned. “I’ve been gone nearly forty minutes. I worried that you might wonder where I’d been off to.”
“Forty minutes?” She shook her head, finally prying her fingers from the branch, jumping back to where he stood. “I’ve only been out here for like two minutes.”
His smile was tight. “You became entranced.” He touched her brow with the back of his hand.
She closed her eyes because it felt good.
“You’re hot.” He sounded worried.
Shrugging him off, she shook her head. “I don’t feel it.”
“You need to eat.”
“I did. I drank your blood.” Just saying it made her want to lick her lips. The taste of his blood had been…ah gods, amazing. Sweeter than grape juice, more addicting than a fine wine. It’d heated her veins, slid warm and hot down her throat, and she swallowed hard because just thinking about it made the hunger return.
She grabbed her stomach.
“No, O’Fallen. You’re part shifter too. You need food, I suspect.”
Wrinkling her nose, she took a step back. “I’m not going to swallow anything raw, livers, or…” Mila thinned her lips. “I can’t do it.”
“We need to talk. Go bathe quickly, and dress.” He shoved a pile of clothes into her arms.
There was a pink shirt with a picture of a fish on the front surrounded by hearts and the words I HEART BASS LAKE. There was also a pair of size-five blue-jean shorts.
“How’d you know what size I am?”
He smirked. “I may not like many people, but I watch.”
“Women.” She stuck out her tongue.
Frenzy shrugged.
“Whatever. Thanks.” She gestured.
Crossing his arms across his chest, it finally dawned on her that he’d changed too. Instead of the slacks and silk shirt she was accustomed to seeing on him, he was in denim jeans and a ribbed black shirt. It highlighted the thick strands of his crimson-colored hair and made her body suddenly ache.
“You look good in that,” she admitted without stuttering. There was one thing she liked about this new vampiric body of hers: it was owning up to her sexuality, being free and unashamed to admit what was on her mind.
His lips curved into a wicked but sensual smile that stole her breath. “Thought you might.”
“Gods.” She rolled her eyes. “Vain much?”
“How is it vain when I’m only telling the truth?” He winked.
Winked!
And why that should bring her such joy, make her feel suddenly so alive, so hot and bothered—it didn’t make sense. Then again, none of this did. She smiled. “Aye, whatever.”
He moved into her space, so close their bodies grazed, shared heat and air. She shivered, swallowing hard.
Then he was trailing his thumb along her jawline, pressing it into the tip of her chin. “The accent,” he said.
She sighed, letting go of the pent-up breath. Her voice was breathy and soft when she said, “I can’t seem to stop it from escaping anymore. All my life I kept myself closed off, alone, and I canna…” She licked her lips, not sure what to say.
“Do it anymore?” he supplied.
Looking at him, she nodded. “I suppose.”
“Bathe. There’s a conversation to be had that’s been long overdue.”
She nodded and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry about that. I really should have finished by now. Did I really hypnotize myself?”
It seemed hard to believe that she’d stood standing in the middle of the woods stark-assed naked for close to forty minutes, but she also couldn’t deny that she now had clothes and he’d changed.
“Go.” He nudged her. “I’ll wait and watch and make sure it doesn’t happen to you again.”
Mortified about her slip, she turned on her heel, grabbed her toiletries, and headed to the bank. Setting her items aside, she jumped into the water, which was, again, nice and temperate.
It wasn’t even spring yet. The water had to be at least in the sixties, if not lower.
Making quick work of washing, not wanting to get lost in the lull and movement of the life pulsing all around her, she moved briskly from task to task. How stupid had she been just standing there that way? What if something had come upon her unawares? She’d dropped her guard; she never did that. Ever. Her life had always been about staying one step ahead. But too often she was losing focus on what mattered, too busy squabbling with Frenzy over asinine stuff. Wanting to change what obviously couldn’t be changed.
Scrubbing her nails across her scalp one last time, she dipped her head under the water. Grabbing some sand, she rubbed it over her flesh, particularly where his blood had been, trying to strip as much scent off of her as possible.
Once she felt seminormal again, she swam back to shore.
He was still where she’d seen him last.
“Have you even blinked?” she teased.
“Not often. Didn’t want to miss the show.” He grinned, revealing even and strong white teeth.
Handing her the towel, he bent and retrieved a bottle of water. Quickly drying, she took the bottle from him with a question in her eyes.
“To brush your teeth. I noticed you brought out the stuff.”
“Thanks.” Taking it, she dipped her head. Then proceeded to brush her teeth. It was weird because she didn’t feel at all like she smelled or even had morning breath. Her body was different, but this was just a way for her to hang on to some sort of humanity.
Brushing the tangles out of her hair with her fingers, she glanced up to note he was still looking at her. But this wasn’t just a look, it was a scorching brand. Primal and raw and full of need.
“How do I look?” she whispered.
“Like dinner.” The sound of his deep voice mixed with the way he was mentally undressing her made her weak in the knees. Made her stomach tickle and heat pool between her legs.
“Come.” He held out his hands. “We’ve been out here long enough and before we give in to this hunger”—he let that word dangle and she knew exactly what he was talking about. She should be offended, but she wasn’t, she so wasn’t—“we need to figure out our strategy.”
Mila licked her lips.
She followed him back to the cabin in a sort of daze, eyeing his ass as he walked. The way the jeans hugged his hips.
Back inside, she noticed that he’d done stuff while she’d been hypnotized outside. The smell of cooked steak teased her senses, and suddenly she wasn’t hungry for sex. Her stomach didn’t just growl, it roared.
“I figured you’d need to eat too. And since you seem inclined to deny yourself meat that’s raw, I bought rib eye, barely seared on both sides.”
It touched her that he’d notice something like that. And that he was also giving her a way around the whole bloody-meat thing. Eating raw steaks wasn’t abnormal or gross, it was the way her nan used to prefer her meat. It felt safe and right now; she needed that.
“Thank you.” She dipped her head as he led her to the table that bore two plates. Both had steaks on them, but one of the plates also had a potato dripping in butter and a mound of broccoli.
Neither of those two items did anything for her, but she couldn’t stop eyeing the steak like it was her newfound lover. Her fingers curled.
“George mentioned that so long as you keep up eating a steady supply of mostly raw meat, the type of meat doesn’t matter.”
She smiled. “Poor lone wolf. He’s gotten a bad rap, hasn’t he?”
“Considering that the zombie he slept with was his wife of forty years, who he had no clue had gotten infected earlier in the day, yes, I’d say he’s gotten a very bad rap.”
That actually was kind of sad and made her feel horrible for how she’d treated him before. She’d heard rumors of the lone wolf who’d been kicked out for sleeping with a dead body, but she’d had no idea the dead body was actually the reanimated corpse of his beloved wife.
He pulled out the chair for her. This all felt so domestic, so comfortable. It was still hard to believe that she didn’t want to gouge his eyes and rip his heart out of his chest every other second. It dawned on her as she sat that most of the battles they’d had, she’d instigated. Maybe if she hadn’t been so determined to be a bitch from the beginning, things might have been different between them from the get-go.
“Would seem so.”
Staring at the hunk of cow meat, mouth salivating with want, it was all she could do not to snatch it up and rip chunks out of it. It felt like forever since she’d eaten a thing. The burned squirrel in George’s lair had nearly made her vomit.
“Dig in.” He gestured, picking up his fork and knife. “I’m sure you’re starved.”
Licking her lips, she grabbed the utensils and sliced off a chunk both big enough to satisfy and small enough not to look like she had no manners. The first bite was succulent and sweet and she couldn’t help but moan in appreciation.
“I didn’t sleep with the shadow, I know I already told you this, but it’s important you really believe me,” he said quietly just before slipping a forkful of meat and potato into his mouth.
She glanced up, chewing. It’d been gnawing at her whether he was being honest then, she wouldn’t deny it. Not that it should matter, because they weren’t much of anything. Sleeping buddies, if that. There was nothing between them.
“You said you kissed her.” She finally admitted the one thing that’d been bothering her most. “Why?”
Spearing broccoli into his mouth, he swallowed before saying, “To learn the truth. How much about me do you know?”
She knew he wasn’t asking about him specifically so much as his kind. Deciding that it was time to be fully honest with him, she nodded. “Not much, truthfully.”
“Tell me what you do know so we can go from there. And don’t stop eating.” He pointed to her plate with his knife.
She snorted. “Aye, death.” Sawing off another large chunk, she chewed and then swallowed. The blood had made her feel powerful, invincible, but the meat helped clear the cobwebs, made the pounding and incessant need for sex not so manic. “Most of what I’ve learned about the others I was taught by gran and mum.”
“And HPA?”
Mila shook her head. “I only freelanced. Enough to get me by, to help me survive. That was it.”
“Who were the vampires following you? Did you know them?” he asked, taking a sip of red wine.
Holding out her glass for some, she waited until he’d poured to answer, curious to see if she could handle drinking wine, or if it would be blood only for the rest of her life.
“I didn’t know them. But I saw them.”
“In a vision?” He lifted his brow and she nodded.
Amazed again at how he seemed to anticipate her answers. “Yes.”
“Why did they want you?”
She laughed, but it lacked mirth. “Same reason I’d imagine everyone else does. My eyes.” Mila pointed to them. “The power to read the future rests in them.”
Studying her, he took another sip of his drink and she did the same, a relieved ahh coming out of her when it went down with no problems. It was sweet and spicy, cool, and filled her mouth with the essence of blackberries and smoked cherries. Best meal of her life.
“I thought the shadow sucked out your soul.”
“Because it’s a gluttonous bitch,” she bit out. “The power rests only in our eyes, but I think it enjoys our suffering as well.”
He nodded. “The thing was”—his look was thoughtful—“intense.”
She snorted. “That’s one way of putting it. It’s got a ravenous appetite and will not stop until it hunts me and my kind to extinction. We’re very nearly there. Last I’d heard, there were less than a handful.”
“How did the vampires find you?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he wiped his mouth off with a napkin and sighed. “A reaper has many talents. Not all of us share the same. One of mine is called death’s kiss. If I concentrate, I can shove a part of my essence into another, killing them instantly if it’s a mortal. She was not. So rather than stop her heart, death spoke to me. It crawled inside her and drew out a part of her consciousness.”
She blinked. The power he claimed to possess was almost frightening, but also exciting. “Did it affect it at all?”
“Yes. It stunned her. She’s probably still lying on my bedroom floor in full rigor.”
Excited, buzzing with a sudden rush of adrenaline, she leaned forward, ignoring her half-eaten steak for the moment. “What did you learn?”
“I learned that once a seer’s scent gets into her she’s like a bloodhound. She never forgets and becomes obsessed with finding that particular seer. She’s so obsessed that she will not move on to another subject until she’s trapped the first one.”
Bringing her fingers to her nose, she sniffed, smelling only the roses from the shampoo she’d used earlier.
“But you’ve been porting us around; how can she still find me? Shouldn’t that kill off the scent so that she can’t trace me?” Fear gripped her heart in a vice.
He bit his bottom lip. “I’m not sure. When a creature is born of the wild hunt, they aren’t stable. Or normal.”
“Normal’s relative.” She snorted. “I doubt I’m normal. Half-shifter, half-vampire.”
“Yeah.” He grinned, swallowing another sip of wine. “I guess you’re right.”
Making a joke about it was easier than giving into the pounding fear sinking its twisted tentacles into her.
His face was serious again, as were his eyes, and she knew it was worry.
“What is it?”
He looked at her. “She can slip through protection wards. I don’t know how, but she’s very powerful.”
That was the death knell to her. “So in essence you’re saying you can’t kill her, you can’t keep her out, and she’ll follow me until the day I die, which now isn’t likely to happen any time soon.”
She shouldn’t be pissed at him, but she was. It was irrational and she wasn’t going to flip out the way she had earlier, but why in the hell had he saved her when her fate remained unchanged?
“I see where you’re going with this.”
Mila shook her head. “Where?”
“You’re transparent. Listen, I didn’t say she wouldn’t be stopped. Everything has a weakness. You should know that by now.”
His words were gentle. She set down her utensils, then steepled her fingers. “I’ve been running all my life. So did my ancestors. In all that time not one of us learned how to slow the shadow down, not wind up either dying by our own hand or having the very soul ripped from us.”
Frenzy scratched his cheek. “The wild hunt is a time of chaos and madness; more than just the shadow was birthed from it. But anything that comes to life during that time is the manifestation of The Morrigan’s will. When I kissed it, I saw a vision of darkness floating before my queen.”
Her nostrils flared. “I don’t understand.”
“It means that the knowledge of how to destroy that creature lies with her.”
She laughed, but it was more ironic than happy. “The queen of darkness? Are you seriously suggesting we go and beg her to tell us the secret? She never will. I’m no fae, but even I know the queen would never help anyone without benefiting from it in some way.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes danced and she felt like she was missing something, like the obvious was right under her nose but she couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Tapping the table for emphasis, he said, “We make it worth her while. Only there’s a problem.”
“Isn’t there always?” Mila rolled her eyes.
He ignored her comment. “The queen rarely leaves faerie. Which means we’d have to go there.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding finally dawning. “I’d have to walk into the lion’s den.” Much as she wanted to end this thing, there was no way she could do that. Out here she wasn’t all that safe, but knowingly walking into faerie, into a place where everyone and anyone was gunning for her, it was suicide. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I’ve tasted the powers of that creature. I cannot stop it. My kiss only stunned her, and for how long, I have no idea. A day, a week, month? Who knows.” He shrugged. “Then we’re back to running again and starting all over from square one.”
“Can’t you kiss her again?” she asked in vain hope.
“No.” He leaned back in his chair. “To kiss her I’d need to get in close and have her unawares; the element of surprise is gone. The only way to stop her is to take this to the queen.”
Her heart quickened as a terrible sort of feeling rolled through her gut. “I’m not safe, not even with the queen. You don’t understand, she’ll use me, just like everyone else. She’ll—”
Getting up quickly, he walked around to her side of the table and latched on to her wrists, dragging them into his chest. “I won’t let her do that to you. I won’t let that happen.”
His gaze was so sincere, his silver eyes hypnotic, helping to ease a little of the anxiety flowing hot and hard through her. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” Her voice was a small thread of sound.
Brushing his knuckles along her cheekbone, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because I was tasked with this duty…”
Heart sinking to the region of her knees, she whispered a small “Oh.” Having sex didn’t automatically mean he’d have to confess undying love to her; she was a vampire now, with vampire’s needs. She’d wanted the satisfaction of his body as much as he’d wanted hers. But there was still that part of her, would likely always be that part of her, that needed to be wanted. Needed to hear that she wasn’t alone because they wanted to be with her and not because of being tasked with a duty.
Lifting her chin with the tip of his finger, he shook his head. “And because no one should have to be alone. I didn’t give you a fair shake when I first met you, O’Fallen. I was angry and jaded.” He shrugged, lips quirking self-consciously. “None of which was your fault.” Chewing on a corner of his lip he turned his face to the side, eyes staring off into the distance, as if in thought.
She sighed. “I saw a vision of you. And a woman in red.”
He jerked his gaze up.
“A woman with eyes a lot like mine.”
Releasing her, he stood back. “What did you see?”
She shook her head. “You loved her. And she was mortal. Once upon a time you didn’t hate humans.”
He didn’t speak.
“Is she the reason why you do?”
Gathering up their dishes, he took them to the sink. She hadn’t been done with the steak, but she was satisfied at least. Felt better than she had in days.
“How much did you see?” He asked with his back to her, turning on a faucet as he set about to clean their dishes.
Seeing wasn’t something she could control. She couldn’t look at a person and decide she wanted to know all their dirty little secrets. It was something that in the past she didn’t get concerned about, so why did she suddenly feel as if she’d peeked into something personal and private?
“You have to understand, Frenzy, I can’t control when—”
“What!” he snapped, spine rigid and still not looking at her. “Did you see?”
Jerking at the boom of his sonorous voice, she shook her head. “Not much.” Which wasn’t really true; she’d seen enough. Her life and love, her grisly murder. She nibbled her lip.
The silence was thick and so loud she heard the echo of her heart beating through her ears.
“Talk to me,” she whispered, raising a hand as if to touch his shoulder.
He was gripping on to the edge of the sink and counter and shifted out of her reach the moment she got to him, as if he’d sensed her nearness. But then she caught sight of his eyes watching her from the reflection in the glass window. They were dark and stormy, angry as they’d been when the two had first met. She had a decision to make: lash out and be vindictive, or breathe and realize that this was genuine hurt he was feeling, and try, for once, to empathize with another.
Swallowing, she grabbed on to his hand. His fingers were strong and so deliciously warm, and she felt the heat spread through her limbs from the point of contact. “I’m sorry, Frenzy. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Rather than let go, he squeezed, and though she still felt the anger vibrating through him, he moved in closer to her instead of away.
Relieved, she began to prattle. “My mouth has always gotten me into too much trouble. It’s why the vampires found me.”
“What’d you do?” he asked after a second’s pause.
“I saw something.”
His brows lowered. He looked so breathtakingly gorgeous in the faint flickering of candlelight. It was still astonishing to her that she could see so much better in death than she had in life. It was dark as pitch out and there was very little light in the cabin, and yet she had no problem making out the deep red of his hair, the bearded shadow along his chiseled jawline. The smoky gray tint of his black, fitted shirt, which helped highlight muscle rather than hide it.
She’d touched him today and he her. Everything was different now. And like a junkie craving his fix, she needed to touch him again. Moving into him, knowing full well he could reject her if he wanted to, she planted her hands on his powerful chest, liking the feel of his heart beating beneath her palm.
“What did you see?” His low voice shivered across her flesh, made her hot and cold, and now that the craving for sustenance had been satisfied a different craving took hold of her again.
They held gazes, the air expectant and pregnant with desire and need so sharp it was a visceral yearning. Her fingers twitched in the soft cotton of his shirt, and her breath came out quivery and airy.
“I saw a little girl. A beautiful little blond girl. She was playing outside the doors of the pub I’d been drinking at for the past hour.”
“Who was the girl?” His minty breath feathered across her lips, making her pulse thunder and her loins tighten with heat. Damning her wildly inappropriate responses to his innocent questions, she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.
The best thing, of course, would have been to step away from him, put some distance between them. Maybe then she could think, reason, and not act like such a sex-deprived fiend, but her brain and her body were two opposing forces.
Swallowing hard, she turned her face to the side. Breaking eye contact helped clear some of the fuzz.
Thinking about that day, she could see the scenario so clearly. Like a picture in her head. The little girl dressed all in pink.
Mila had been feeling low that day, having another one of her “woe-is-me” pity parties. Wondering what the meaning and purpose to her life was. That day she’d been on scene with HPA at a downtown park. They’d found the Candyman’s latest victim on display. The vibrant redhead had been posed as a lounge singer. Wearing a glittering green cocktail dress with red pumps. Her hair had been styled in a fifties poodle haircut, tight sleek curls around her elfin face with a smooth part down the middle. She’d been gripping one of those big silver RKO mics, and on her middle finger was a large red candy ring.
The scene had been no different from the countless others she’d seen. The eyeballs had been taken out and lids sewn shut. The mouth twisted up into a macabre version of a smile.
But this time the killer had made one mistake. A mistake she’d instantly recognized. One that made Mila break out in a wash of cold sweat, made her realize it was time to pack up and go.
They’d found it on the cadaver’s fingertips: a faint blue smudge that’d smelled sweet. The techs had been baffled, murmuring whether the killer had somehow gotten a little clumsy this time, as he’d never left a mark or mar on the bodies before.
Mila had known the truth immediately.
The killer was the shadow. Whoever had been creating the macabre puppets was simply the shadow’s lackey. A way for the shadow to hide what it’d been doing.
The shadow was looking for her.
And now that she knew it, she knew she couldn’t go back home. Couldn’t stay in San Francisco any longer. It was too dangerous. When the techs had asked her if she’d gotten any feel or vision for the woman, whom she may have been, she’d simply shrugged and smiled, feigning exhaustion.
It hadn’t been true.
The moment she’d touched the woman’s hand she’d seen who she was. The first of the four victims she’d gotten a lock on. A Cal-Berkley coed visiting her boyfriend on holiday. Her name had been Sara Thorne and she would be greatly missed.
It was why she’d gone home, packed, and asked her boss’s mother if she could rent out one of her bed-and-breakfast rooms for the night. Mila had wanted to fly out of San Francisco, but the shadow was too smart. It was likely keeping tabs on flights, so she’d planned to leave by boat, but by that time of day, all boats were docked and wouldn’t set sail until the following morning. She’d had no choice but to stay one more day.
All the questions and the anxiety had been too much for her. She’d done something stupid, something her gran would have killed her for. Mila had gone out. She’d worn a disguise of a baggy sweater and pants, a ball cap on her head, and shades. Gone into a dump of a pub to drink some scotch just so that she could settle her nerves.
“O’Fallen?” he said, voice low and gently drawing her away from the memories.
She blinked and swallowed, coming back to the present.
“I was so stupid.” She snorted. “I was sitting in that filthy pub, tucked away in the deepest part of it, where there were hardly any lights, so that no one could really see me. Then a man sat about three seats over from me. You have to understand, I cannot control the visions. They simply come, or don’t; I cannot bring them forth no matter how much I want to,” she said, but she was hoping he understood that she was speaking of more than just that night.
His jaw clenched, an infinitesimal movement, before he nodded and moved deeper into her space. She sighed, gave him a crooked smile.
“Go on,” he gently urged.
She shrugged. “I saw a little girl, like I said. He was a drunkard; the call of whiskey was no match for that child. He’d hidden her in an alley behind the pub, given her some chalk to draw on the street with. I saw three men coming for her.”
“How do your visions work? Are they past or future?”
“Both. Sometimes the past, sometimes the future. I canna control what it is I see, as I said. It simply seems to depend on the individual and their circumstances. But you have to understand”—her voice drifted off—“I’ve seen visions like these before.”
“Of death?”
“Aye.” She nodded, heart trapped in her throat as she remembered what that little innocent would have gone through.
He tipped her chin up, then wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close. “So why didn’t you let it happen with her? They all die in the end.”
The way he said it, not with scorn or malice, but a deep and honest sincerity, it touched her to her very soul. “We all do die, it’s true.”
Frenzy sighed. “But her death was different. It touched you. Made you reckless?”
Feeling safe and secure in his arms, she rested her head against his chest, taking another step into him, before nodding. His hands rubbed along her back, up and down, soothing her in a way very little else could. In some strange way, letting him hold her, opening herself up this way and being completely exposed, it made her feel stronger, not weaker. It was weird for her, this feeling of safety she felt whenever he was around. Like nothing bad could happen to her while he was here. Which was nuts because they’d been on the run the entire time. Nothing had really changed and yet, in some ways, it felt like everything had.
It was scary to feel like this, but it was even scarier to think it could all go away and she’d be alone all over again.
“She was innocent. If her da hadn’t taken her there, if he’d left her at home as he should have, that future would never have happened. I had a choice to make. I’d seen so much death in my life, I was tired of it. Something just snapped in me. I walked over to him, punched him in the head, and told him his daughter was in terrible danger and to go get her right away.”
He chuckled. “You punched him?”
“Yes. Rather stupid of me to punch a drunk, but I was drunk myself. The man went off, called me all sorts of stupid, flipped over a chair. His breath reeked of liquor.”
“And the girl?”
She sighed. “Still in danger. But now I had the bartender threatening to throw me and the father out, and no one was listening. So I ran to the back. All the while the father was screaming at me that I was crazy, that he had no children. A few of the patrons must have followed, because someone filmed the entire episode on their phone. I found the girl, who was already set upon by attackers. I went nuts, screaming and raving like a lunatic. I was piss drunk and remember little of what I said until I saw it on the news that night. ‘Drunk woman recues child from gang rape,’ or some such crap. I knew the moment I saw my face on that screen I was in trouble.”
He frowned. “In a city the size of San Francisco, how did the vampires learn you were a seer?”
“Because of what I was screaming, I suppose.” She shrugged. “It’s all still very fuzzy. I didn’t even finish watching the show. The cops were looking for me, HPA was ringing constantly trying to figure out what in the hell I’d done, and I knew it was only a matter of time before all the dots were connected. I’d had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that night, but I had only forty dollars to my name. I’d spent the rest of what I’d had on that ferry. I was stuck and could no longer stay at the bed-and-breakfast. So I snuck into a neighbor’s home in the middle of the night, intending to only get a few hours of sleep before the sun came up. I knew if I made it to sunrise I’d make it out of there. But obviously, the vampires found me. And that is my story.”
Leaning back so that he could look her in the face again, he brushed a tendril of hair out of her eyes, rubbing her cheek with his knuckles. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” he gently chided, and she winced.
“I know. And yet”—she searched his gaze to see if maybe somewhere deep down he understood why she hadn’t had a choice—“I’d do it again. I could not imagine a worse fate for a child. I’d maybe handle it differently. I wish I could read my own future. That would make my life so much easier.” She laughed, but it lacked humor. Scratching the back of her head, she studied him. “So now you know my secrets. I’ve got to know, why did you let George bite me? Why couldn’t I have remained a vampire? These cravings I get”—she swallowed hard—“they drive me close to mad.”
The pads of his fingers brushed along the scars lining her cheeks. “When I found you, you were less than a second from death. Lise came to me.”
“The Ancient One?” What would Lise want with her?
“Yes. I didn’t understand it then, but having been with you these past few days I understand why she ordered George to bite you. What do you know of vampires?”
She chuckled. “Firsthand knowledge or what I learned postdeath?”
His lips quirked. “Both.”
“That they’re sexually depraved monsters who obsess about blood.” She wiggled her body into his, because just talking about it made her breasts tingle, her thighs tremble, and her center feel heavy and wet. She was so ready it was almost embarrassing.
Snorting, Frenzy said, “All that is true. It is also true that when they bite you and turn you, you become slave to their whims and fancy. They own you.”
She frowned. It was true. Vampires were sired creatures who formed strong, dysfunctional family units. “I haven’t felt—”
Slowly he nodded, as if waiting for her to fit the pieces together, and it was stupid that she hadn’t already. She knew much more than the average human about the others; in hindsight it was obvious. “Shifters do not sire. His bite interfered with that.”
“Contrary to popular belief vampires rarely turn a mortal, and when they do it’s because they desire something. In your case it was your abilities. They would never have killed you—mutilated you, yes, but not true death—because they wanted what you had and I think were smart enough to realize that without you to interpret the visions, the eyes were useless. Had George not bitten you, you would have been slave to your sire’s whims.”
Mila shook her head.
“Lise didn’t stick around long enough to explain herself to me, but I theorize that George’s bite killed off the bits of the vampire’s poison that would have made you loyal to them. You are your own person.”
“But George cannot regenerate. I’ve seen him. He looks worse than a zombie.” She touched the scars on her cheeks, wondering if maybe that was why these ghastly things still remained.
He chuckled, stepping into her. “I shoved you up against a tree when I pounded into you earlier. Shifters can regenerate. The reason why George can’t is because he lacks pack magic. A lone wolf, while still strong, is also weak in the sense that he doesn’t gain the added strength and healing abilities a packed shifter would. But his bite is still a true shifter bite. You seem to have gotten the best genes of both. Stronger than either one of them.”
“But my scars.” She cupped them in her hands.
He gently pushed them away. “I saw you. You were battered and bruised, with bites all over your body. It was a horrific sight.”
Shuddering, she said, “Sure seems like they planned to kill me.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’d incited them to a fury. They were angry. If they’d wanted to kill you, they would never have toyed with you as they did. They were trying to teach you a lesson.” He feathered his fingers along the tops of her eyes. “You healed. The scars, they came from a spelled blade. There is no regeneration from something like that, not unless you go to the witch who created the spell in the first place and ask them to reverse it.”
The odds of ever finding the witch who’d spelled the blade seemed slim to none. At least Frenzy didn’t seem fazed by her deformity.
“Do we really have to go to faerie, Frenzy?” she asked softly, afraid to say it too loud, afraid of who was out there, of what they might hear.
“I wish I could think of another way. The thought of going to faerie doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s the only lead I’ve found. If not there, where do you think?”
She sighed. “Gods, I don’t know. I wish I did.”
He hugged her tight, rubbing her shoulder blades in his strong warm hands. “Let us sleep on it tonight, see if we can come up with something else in the morning.”
“Yeah.” But in her heart she knew there wasn’t anything else. If there had been, they would have thought of it already. Going to faerie was suicide. But so was staying put in any one place for too long. She was screwed either way.