Davina (Davy Harwood #3)

Lucas Roane.

She remembered him now. He was Lucan’s twin brother. Lucas turned on his brother to save her. He protected her, and then Lucan came into his brother’s house and took her. He took her and all of her friends too . . . but no. Davy needed to remember. She had a purpose before. It hadn’t been about power. It was about . . . friendship, love, trust, making her loved ones safe.

Pippa, the wolf. Brown, the witch. Kates, the best friend. There were others, but those three were her human friends.

Gavin, Gregory, Wren, and Tracey—they were Roane’s vampires. They followed him.

She remembered their first kiss.

As if I had no control over my actions, I watched my own hands grasp the front of his shirt roughly. Roane didn’t have time to react before I pushed against him and slammed my lips over his. After that I felt like something unlocked inside of me. My eyes snapped shut, and I pressed harder against Roane. As kisses went, it was forced and impersonal.

And another time, when they were together. Then I felt Roane’s hand slide around to the back of my neck, and he took a breath before he took over the kiss.

He moved his hand from my leg and slowly reached to untangle my hands from my hair. I gasped as the last finger was detangled, and then my fingers desperately sought his shoulders. He slid in, and I surged forward to wrap my arms tighter around him.

“You have to bear something that you didn’t choose. I understand, Davy. I understand it more than you think.” Roane tucked his head against mine. His lips brushed the tip of my ear. “I know what it’s like to have your life suddenly change, and it’s not what you decided. I do understand that.”

I frowned.

His hand curved around my neck, and I felt the cool touch of his lips when he pressed a kiss to my ear. “You can do this, Davy. We’ll figure everything else out.” She remembered the last time she saw him.

Roane pulled me into his chest for a hug. After we kissed again, he thought, “I will be back soon or I’ll call for you. Stay with Gavin or Wren. They are to protect you from now on.”

“Be safe.”

He nodded and kissed me a last time. His lips lingered over mine as I clung to him. Every instinct in my body told me not to let him go. Something bad was going to happen. I knew it. I felt it, but so did Roane.

He was the reason she was fighting. He preceded the need for power, before The Immortal became her own entity.

Davy faltered, stopping on the very top ridge of the hill. The Mori were spread before her. There were five hidden in trees a few yards away. They would see her, but she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to go in there being detached from herself so she cloaked herself. She needed more time, just a bit more, and she needed to remember this vampire that the human inside of her loved so much.

She ordered in her head, “Take me to him.”

The air popped, and she was there.

He was standing in front of her, peering out over a cliff as a war waged on beneath his feet. She didn’t care about who was fighting. There was blood, sweat, and death all over. Many already died and many more would succumb to the afterlife. She wasn’t there for any of them. She moved forward, still cloaked, as she stood beside him.

This man, this vampire, was the reason the girl inside of her lived. She felt her yelling, trying to break free. Even the sight of him, so close and within reach, had her humanity fighting like she had never fought before.

She wanted him.

The rage was whipping through her. It wasn’t rage at him or where they were. It was rage at herself. The human was raging to take control once again, but no, that didn’t make sense. She wasn’t The Immortal. She wasn’t the human. She was the in between. Davy cocked her head to the side and lifted a hand. The in-between was curious about this vampire. She wanted to touch him, and as she lifted a hand and extended it to him, the human grew silent. This was what the real Davy yearned for, to be complete with him once again.

Her fingers touched his cheekbone and held there.

He was beautiful.

His eyes were fierce. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips that Davy wanted to touch, and a warrior’s body. Broad shoulders. A trim waist. Fresh blood was all over him, coating of dried blood underneath, but as she looked over him, she saw it wasn’t his blood. She found herself wanting to make sure. She wanted to clean him, double-checking that none seeped from a wound on his perfect body.

As she had that thought, she realized that she thirsted for his body. She wanted to touch him, press against him, feel his arms wrap around her. Those lips—her gaze went back to them. She couldn’t look away, and she stepped toward him. Her heart began beating, faster and faster. Her mouth was suddenly parched.

She wanted to touch her lips to his . . .