“I’ve made up my mind,” he told Vic.
Vic’s face betrayed only a hint of confusion. “Oh?”
“You’re not a monster.” Johnathan looked up, his gaze connecting with Vic’s stare when he belatedly realized he was, once again, shirtless.
Vic had changed out of his blood-soaked clothing, the fresh shirt a tighter fit on his slim form, accenting his lean muscles. Johnathan’s face grew warm from noticing such a detail.
Vic leaned back in his chair, drawing a finger across his lush lips. “Flattered as I am by your answer, what led you to such a conclusion?” His gaze dipped, perusing Johnathan’s exposed abdomen.
Johnathan blushed and looked away, clenching his teeth at the sharp twinge in his shoulder. The vampire managed to leave him so discomfited with merely a look. “Aside from the great deal of charity and delicacy in your treatment of Mrs. Fairchild,” he answered, “you also showed remarkable restraint as I bled out on the ground.”
There was also his “sentiment” for Alyse, though Johnathan would rather slam his wounded shoulder into the wall than bring that into the conversation. Simply, he knew he didn’t care for the idea of Vic with Alyse—not in a romantic way.
Vic’s eyes gleamed with a mix of heat and amusement that made Johnathan’s face burn even hotter. “How certain are you that I didn’t take a sip while you were under? You do have a rather intoxicating aroma.”
Johnathan’s gaze snapped up, meeting Vic’s head on. There was an odd tension pulling taut between them that made his muscles go tight. “I would know if I had been tasted. And you think I don’t recognize a starving vampire? I see it all over you.”
Vic smiled, revealing much more prominent fangs, yet the alluring curve of his mouth promised something far more dangerous than an attack.
“And I told you John, I have my own methods of dealing with bloodlust.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I have more than one insatiable appetite.”
A flush of heat rushed down through Johnathan’s chest, its destination unmistakable. If this continued, he was certain his hair would catch fire from the heat of his blush.
He swallowed with difficulty. Their relationship had been far simpler when Johnathan had been certain that Vic was a vicious fiend who would eventually turn on him. This version of Vic, though…
Johnathan didn’t rise to the bait. He couldn’t reconcile himself to the stirrings of emotion the vampire roused in him, a confusing, complicated mix he was in no shape to untangle now. Or ever.
He cleared his throat. “Why is it that I find myself waking up in Pastor Shaw’s house? I know Alyse is aware of your condition but what of her father and siblings?”
Vic pursed his lips. “Nice subject change. You are the epitome of subtleness, John. In answer to your question, it was either bring you to Alyse or Alyse to you, and I wasn’t sure you would last for the latter.” He smirked at the question in Johnathan’s expression. “Shaw wasn’t always a pastor. He was a trained surgeon before he settled here and taught Alyse more than a few techniques. I certainly trust them more than what passes for a doctor in this town.”
“But the pastor—” John’s words were interrupted by the passing of the pastor’s brood, the younger children trampling past the sick room louder than a pack of banshees, with Alyse in their wake, commanding their silence. The pastor’s baritone rose once in a quick short command that brought the noise to an abrupt halt.
A small smile played on Vic’s mouth as he listened to the familial chaos. “The pastor does not approve of my…friendship with Alyse, but he is a man of faith, and a good one. He wouldn’t turn away an injured man or ask too many questions.”
Johnathan struggled to give himself more leverage on the bed. His shoulder would be a sore mess for several days, but he didn’t have time to wait for recovery. “Who found the symbol on Alyse’s windowsill?”
Vic leaned back and folded his hands together over his chest. “Alyse’s little sister found the mark. It showed up last night while you slept. She didn’t know what it was.”
“I need to see if it’s the same as the others,” said Johnathan. He swung his bare legs over the bed.
Vic was there in a blink, chair and all, sitting before him. His cool hand rested on Johnathan’s good shoulder, pinning him in place.
He set his jaw to keep from shouting at a hungry, irritable vampire. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You think I didn’t check Miss Fairchild’s room after you went through the damn window chasing the beast? I recognized the symbol, John.” He released Johnathan and ran a hand through his hair, auburn strands falling from the queue at his nape. “It’s the same bloody symbol as the rest.” He released a long, very human breath.
Johnathan followed the vampire’s telling motions. “What happened to you after I gave chase?”
“Thought you were still conscious for that part. The lovely Mrs. Fairchild stabbed me.” Vic tapped his chest. “Silly twit drove the blade right through my breastbone.”
Johnathan recalled Mrs. Fairchild’s words. The act of stabbing someone in the chest to kill them was no easy feat, and attempting to go through the breastbone was an obvious amateur move. Even with some real force behind it, Mrs. Fairchild shouldn’t have achieved much more than scraping against bone.
“I was awake. Up to the hilt?'
Vic sneered and held his fingers a couple inches apart. “It was a damn paring knife.”
Johnathan raised a brow. “Awful lot of blood for such a small blade.”
“Ah, that would be the fire poker her husband put through my back before he went hunting for you.” Vic made a face, reaching to rub a spot on his lower back. “He was drunk and incensed by questions he felt I had no business asking.”
No wonder the vampire took so long to reach Johnathan.
“Mrs. Fairchild neglected to mention that,” Johnathan said lightly. He looked down at his legs, wondering who’d divested him of his trousers. “Did you leave her in the woods?”
Vic was silent for so long, Johnathan had to glance up to see if he was still there, half expecting to see the vampire ogling his bare legs. “I did,” Vic said. “I had more pressing concerns. When I peeled back your shirt, the wound was a pulsing mass of blackened skin, oozing brownish black liquid. I thought you’d been poisoned.”
Johnathan gaped at him, his hand flying to cup his shoulder. “What? What the hell did he shoot me with?”
Vic retrieved an object from his pocket and held it out to him. The bullet sat in the palm of the vampire’s hand, far more warped than he expected of a plain lead ball, but on closer inspection, the metal had a peculiar color. “It’s silver. The moment we managed to pry it from your flesh, your blood ran red again.”
There was a detail here, significant and terribly important, they were missing.
Johnathan clutched his sore shoulder, mentally piecing together an incomplete picture. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.” Vic leaned forward and rolled the ball between his fingers. It was a telling display of his agitation, the small movements a hint of his deep distraction. Vampires were normally still, and Vic was hungry and anxious, his predatory instincts running high. Not a good combination in a household full of children.
“You should feed,” said Johnathan. He looked at the ceiling, wondering if it were possible to winch his lips shut before he made a bigger fool of himself.
Vic tilted his head, biting his lower lip. “Are you offering, John?”
His fingers danced up Johnathan’s bare calf.
The back of Johnathan’s neck heated, and though every instinct told him not to be a fool, to get as far away from this fiend as possible, he soldiered forth in his foolishness anyway. “If Alyse can’t or won’t, then yes. I’m offering.”
Better him than Pastor Shaw’s children. This was what he told himself, anyway.
Vic’s smirk vanished, and his brows knitted together. “You’re actually serious.” He s
ighed. Looking put upon, he slid out of the chair and settled his weight onto the bed.
Before Johnathan could properly react, Vic began to crawl over him, causing him to shrink back, resting on the elbow of his good arm, wide eyed as the vampire hovered over him, fangs bright.
“You’re certain you’re ready for this?” Vic breathed. His auburn hair dangled in Johnathan’s face, tickling his cheek.
Johnathan flinched, his body held in a supremely awkward position while his mind rioted. What should he do? Where should he put his hands? Would it hurt?
He shifted slightly, trying to ease the tension in his bad shoulder, and promptly slid off the bed. Vic caught him midway to the floor, but jostling his shoulder sent a fresh stab of pain through his chest.
“Ow,” Johnathan groaned. Vic, with that abnormal vampiric strength of his, gently set him back to rights on the bed and returned to his chair.
“Consider this a teaching moment. Do you have any idea how much blood you lost, you idiot?” Vic said in disgust. “I think you lost more than I did, by half. And I told you I would not be the one to kill you. Feeding on you in this state would be certain death.” Vic’s expression turned troubled. “What exactly happened out there, John?”
“I saw something.” Johnathan’s gaze turned inward, unfocused as he recalled the horned skull and long spindle limbs.
“How utterly vague. Care to elaborate for the late arrivals?”
Johnathan glared at him. “My apologies. My recall is a bit slow thanks to the bullet wound I sustained to the shoulder.”
Vic held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sarcasm is the defense of a man lacking imagination.”
“I’ve changed my mind. You are a monster.”
Vic ducked his head, a smile tilted at the corner of his mouth. “Do you remember?”
“I do.” He hesitated, trying to summon the memory. At first his mind wouldn’t cooperate, but the determined Prospective who refused to be deterred rose to the fore. Johnathan described the creature with halting but accurate, if not perfect, recall. The little details gave him trouble, such as the number of branches present in the horns, a number far greater than he’d seen in any actual buck or elk. He even managed a fairly accurate estimate of the creature’s height and length of its limbs, though such minutiae were difficult to gauge from a considerable distance. What his description did lack was the mind-blanking terror he felt, and something else, an important detail that lingered just out of his grasp.
Vic nodded, his brow raised. “Well done, Prospective Newman,” he murmured.
There was something about Vic’s soft words that made him feel defensive, though there was no real bite to them.
“I’m a trained Society investigator. I must take note of as many details as I can,” said Johnathan. For a heartbeat, he wondered if Vic attempted to compel him, but when he reached for the details of his memory, they came readily enough. Perhaps he’d broken through whatever influence sapped their importance away, except…he didn’t believe he’d escaped it entirely.
He frowned, unable to dismiss that niggling sense that he was forgetting something, when Vic’s sinuous movements derailed his thoughts.
The vampire stood and began to pace the short length of the floor, flowing with grace in the midst of frustration. “What you’re describing, in theory, almost sounds like a spirit of the wood.” He paused, tugging on his lip. “Or something that could be mistaken for one.”
“Mistaken for one?” Johnathan carefully rubbed his sore shoulder. “Before I came here, I didn’t think much more than vampires existed.”
Vic frowned. “I thought the Society gave you an extensive education.”
There it was again, the desire to defend, to snap back, though Vic’s tone was far from accusatory. Johnathan hunched over, puzzled by the mercurial shift of his temper. “It is extensive, where it concerns real threats. This isn’t the typical fare.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, not believing what he was about to say. “We’re out here chasing creatures that feel as though they belong in a fairy tale. These are unknown entities.”
A knowing look flashed across Vic’s face. “There are a great deal of entities out there who don’t wish to be known, John.” He looked troubled. “When I brought you into this, I believed the Society possessed a greater understanding of the world’s mysteries.” He glanced at the silver ball he’d pulled from Johnathan’s shoulder. “It seems I was mistaken.”
“The Society must have encountered something like this before,” insisted Johnathan, disliking the sense of ignorance that rose as Vic spoke. “Their Hunters have traveled throughout the world. They—”
Vic rolled his eyes. “If they have encountered such beings, why haven’t they informed their Prospectives about them?”
“I don’t know,” said Johnathan, hating the note of uncertainty in his voice. Vic paused, staring at him with a look that brought a very different heat to the back of Johnathan’s neck.
The vampire shook himself. “Well, shortly before we left yesterday, I did track down the contact I was looking for.” His expression turned closed. “I might be able to acquire some clarity to our mystery, but you’re staying here. It’s too much of a risk to bring you,” said Vic, a hint of regret in his voice before his face tightened.
“You’re leaving? Who are you meeting?” Johnathan heaved himself off the bed. The room spun beneath his feet. He ignored the sensation and snatched the bullet from Vic’s hand. “I am not a bloody hindrance.”
“You would never be a hindrance,” Vic murmured, lifting his hands to catch Johnathan if pitched over. A frown knotted between his delicate brows. “I said risk, as in I’m not willing to risk further harm to you. Please, John, rest. You won’t be of much help to us if you don’t heal.”
Johnathan ignored that too. He was getting awfully skilled at ignoring good advice, though he knew he remained standing through sheer stubbornness. Despite this, he refused to let the vampire dictate what he did now.
“Just tell me,” Johnathan demanded.
Vic straightened. His mood was difficult to decipher as he rolled his shoulders and released a slow breath. Johnathan thought he almost looked…afraid? “Who I should have sought out in the first place, rather than entreating the Society to send me a green Hunter.” His nostrils flared. “Though the price for their knowledge will be high.”
Johnathan scowled. “How astonishingly clear. Care to specify who they are?”
“No,” said Vic. “In this case, it is better to keep your ignorance.” The sincerity of his words gave Johnathan pause. The vampire’s gaze glinted. “Don’t follow me, John. If I don’t return, I need you to keep Alyse and her family safe.”
The vampire looked like he wanted to say something else, his expression so torn that Johnathan found himself reaching for him, though he wasn’t sure what he would do if he caught hold of Vic.
His fingers brushed the vampire’s sleeve, but Vic slid away like a breeze, leaving Johnathan grasping air. The door slammed shut a second behind the fleeing vampire.
A tangle of feelings wrestled in Johnathan’s chest. If I don’t return…
He staggered a step forward, bracing himself on the wall. Panic and outrage vied for dominance. Outrage won.
“Don’t you dare think you can leave me behind, you bloody stupid vampire!”
Chapter Seventeen
Outrage gave him the surge of energy he needed to burst from the room with all the delicacy of a raging bull. Johnathan’s chest heaved, each breath filled with hot irrational anger. Using both walls of the hall to shove himself forward, he caught up to the vampire in the foyer, toppling a chair in his clumsy charge across the small room. Vic froze at the sight of him, wide-eyed at the anger on Johnathan’s face.
Johnathan tried to rein himself in so he could hold a rational conversation. He would not let Vic dictate this situation, and especially wouldn’t let the idiot go alone to a meeting he might not come back from.
“Like hell are
you leaving me here.”
Vic’s mouth set in a grim line. “John, you can barely stand. Go back to bed.”
Johnathan shook his head. “I won’t be a liability.
The vampire’s brows snapped together, his own patience fraying in the face of Johnathan’s mulish attitude. “Dammit man, did you not hear me? You can’t handle this.”
Too ignorant, too weak. Johnathan snarled and shoved him, a childish reaction. And like a child shoving an adult, Vic didn’t move an inch. “Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle.” The heat inside him intensified. He fisted the fabric of Vic’s shirt. A flash of pity came and went across the vampire’s face stoking Johnathan’s anger further.
“Big, bad Hunter that you are,” said Vic, his voice dangerously soft as he wrapped a hand around Johnathan’s wrist. He suddenly loomed in hard and fast, with a snap of teeth that forced Johnathan back a step. “You can’t even handle me.”
The snap of teeth echoed through Johnathan’s mind. Heat exploded inside him. The pain in his shoulder vanished as Johnathan picked Vic up and slammed him against the wall beside the front door, hard enough to crack the plaster. Johnathan pinned him there, feet dangling several inches off the ground, breath steaming in his lungs. “Don’t you ever snap your teeth at me again.”
“Christ, I did not see that coming,” the vampire wheezed. He gently squeezed Johnathan’s wrists. “John, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please put me down.”
Johnathan didn’t respond. His eyes were focused on Vic’s mouth, where the edges of sharp teeth were visible through parted lips. A tremor ran through his limbs. The coppery tang of blood bloomed in the air. Vic inhaled and flinched. His grip on Johnathan’s wrists tightened.
“You need to put me down, John.” There was a desperate, panicked note in that voice.
Johnathan looked into the vampire’s eyes. Vic’s pupils had dilated until the silvery blue of his irises were a thin band around a well of black.
“Put me down.” Vic’s jaw quivered.
A Bargain of Blood and Gold Page 13
