She’d worked too hard to risk it all.
Drawing a deep breath, Charlotte left the bathroom to rejoin the others in the front room. But a sound stopped her. She heard Alessandra and Toni talking in the kitchen.
Charlotte moved toward her friend’s voices. The two of them seemed to be alone in there. Good. She could talk to them about Torr before—
“I think we should tell her.”
A chill crept up her spine. Somehow, she knew they were talking about her.
“She’s a dear friend, completely trustworthy,” Toni continued.
“I agree. And I hate lying to her . . .”
Charlotte frowned. Lying to her? About what? Did this have something to do with whatever had happened to Alessandra over the summer?
No longer caring that she was eavesdropping on a private conversation, she moved closer to the kitchen.
“Then let’s not.”
Silence.
“It’s a risk—”
“A small one. Or is the idea of Stone Haven becoming an open town just talk? If we really think it’s possible . . .”
An open town? What on earth did that mean?
“We have to get back. Let’s talk to the guys about it,” Alessandra said. “In the meantime, no mention of Cheld or vampires . . .”
Charlotte stopped listening then. Had her friend just said vampires?
She didn’t even think to move away from the entrance, so when her friends walked toward her, their faces told her everything she needed to know.
Well, maybe not everything. Vampires? She told herself it was just something to do with the Halloween bar opening. Maybe they were considering some added theatrics. A couple of guys in costume. God knew the Derricksons and Kenton would fit the bill. Except none of that sounded right, even in her head.
She shook it off. The important thing was that her friends were hiding something from her, something big, and they didn’t trust her enough to tell her. It made it worse that they both knew.
Charlotte didn’t think. She turned and nearly ran from the house, up the hallway and past the front room where the others were gathered. She didn’t even stop to grab her purse.
Her chest felt like it was caving beneath the betrayal of two people she adored. Yes, she had secrets, but they had to do with her past. This was something they both knew but specifically didn’t want to tell her. Though they called her name, Charlotte didn’t stop until a hand grabbed her arm from behind.
“Charlotte—”
“Not now,” she said to Torr. Without stopping, she continued down the path toward the street until he grabbed her once again.
“Yes, now.”
She spun around. “I can’t. I need to go—”
“Talk to me. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
She shook her head. “I . . .” Charlotte couldn’t breathe. “They . . . lied.” Despite the fact that she’d told him she didn’t want to talk about it, she found herself doing the exact opposite.
“Torr, they lied to me. My best friends. I was in the bathroom. I didn’t mean to overhear, but . . . I heard their voices in the kitchen and thought I’d go in there to talk to them.”
She stopped short of explaining what she’d wanted to talk to them about.
Although the street was abandoned—the two mansions sitting side by side were the only two homes on the block—Charlotte looked behind her before continuing.
“Come this way,” Torr said suddenly, nodding toward his brother’s house.
She followed numbly, her hands trembling. Alessandra and Toni were the last two people she’d ever expected to lie to her. Taking a deep breath as an errant leaf fell onto the sidewalk in front of her, she briefly wondered if she was foolish to follow Torr Derrickson home. He was, after all, the same man who had brushed his fingers between her legs at dinner.
Then again, what was the alternative? To go home and cry alone?
When Torr led her to the front porch, which wrapped around the entirety of the first floor, she began to pace. And proceeded to spill everything.
“I never meant to eavesdrop,” she repeated. “But when I heard my name . . . or maybe not my name, but I knew they were talking about me. They were discussing whether they should tell me something. Toni thought they should, but Alessandra seemed hesitant.”
She stopped.
He looked so freaking normal right now.
Hot, as always. That was just a part of him. But there was no cocky grin, no guarded expression. He stood there with his arms crossed, listening to her as if he cared about every last word bubbling up from her mouth.
“What did they say?” he prompted.
Charlotte reached up to smooth her hair.
“Anyway, they weren’t sure if they should tell me. Then they said some word I didn’t recognize and something about vampires.”
Torr’s arms flexed. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, so she could see them clearly. He probably didn’t even realize he’d done it. And then something occurred to her . . .
“They didn’t come after me—”
“I told them I’d talk to you.”
Something changed in the air between them. It wasn’t his words, precisely, but the serious air in which he’d delivered them. Torr wisecracked and joked. He didn’t do serious—or at least he hadn’t in the three times she’d been in his presence. Where did she get off thinking she knew him?
And yet she felt she did.
“Talk to me?” she repeated, making it a question.
“Sit down,” he said more gently than he’d ever spoken to her before.
Those words had only been said to her like that once before—they’d preceded her father’s revelation that they were about to lose everything. His company. His presence. Their houses. The cars. All of it.
“I think I’ll stand, thank you.”
Torr pushed away from the porch railing to walk toward her. Charlotte was pretty sure the shiver that ran down her back had nothing to do with the increasingly cool weather. Being near him affected her in odd ways.
Like the feeling of an imminent kiss.
Or standing on the edge of a cliff.
“Your friends did not betray you.”
“But I heard them talking—”
“Of something that very few people would be willing or able to comprehend.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.” Charlotte took a step back. His expression almost scared her.
“You heard the word ‘Cheld.’ It refers to someone of a certain . . . bloodline that gives the person special abilities.”
“I don’t understand.”
“All Cheld are descendants of my brother Alec and his wife, Lady Isobel.”
“I thought Lawrence was your only brother?”
“We had an older brother, but he died long ago.” Torr took a deep breath. “Centuries ago.”
Now she really didn’t understand. “What in the name of—”
“I am a vampire, Charlotte. As are my brother and sister.” He made a face. “And Kenton Morley.”
“A . . . did you just say—?”
Had they been served spiked drinks by the bartender for hire?
“Vampire. Don’t be afraid.” Then, without warning, he opened his mouth and—
“What the fuck?” It slipped out before she could bite it back. One of a grand total of three times she’d said the word aloud. Charlotte backed up, her leg hitting the wicker chair behind her. Gripping it, she sat on the floral cushions.
Torr knelt beside her. Which was when Charlotte realized she’d trapped herself.
He must have seen the gleam of fright in her eyes, because he immediately edged back. “I will not hurt you. Alessandra and Toni would never have allowed me to be with you alone otherwise.”
Alessandra. Toni. “They . . . know?”
“That their partners are both vampires?” His teeth went back to normal. “Yeah, they know.”
Gripping both sides of the chair, Charlot
te stared at his mouth. Had she really just seen that? It wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be. “Was that some kind of prop?” she said in a feeble attempt to refute what she’d just seen. “Are you guys practicing for some dinner theater thing at your brother’s bar?”
“No prop. No tricks.”
She gripped the chair harder, until it hurt, and stared up at him as if her gaze could delve into his head.
“I’m going to leave for a moment,” he said. “When I do, I want you to whisper a word to yourself.”
Before she could respond, Torr walked to the edge of the porch and promptly jumped over it. They were on the first floor, but it was still a ways down. She was about to stand when she heard him yell, “your word.”
A word. Charlotte couldn’t think of any.
She sat still, wondering how he’d moved so quickly—and without even gaining a bruise, from the look of it.
“Noir Nights,” she whispered.
A few seconds later, Torr appeared at the top of the stairs. Halfway toward her, he made a face. “Noir Nights? Not what I would have expected.”
“How did you—?”
“Vampires have exceptional hearing. And we can jump fairly well too.”
“Vampires—”
“Which is how I also know you think I have a nice ass.”
She startled. “Excuse me?”
“That day in the bank. Alessandra and Toni took you outside because they knew I could hear you.” He grinned. “I never did get to say thanks. And ‘ditto.’”
Charlotte thought back to that day. He’d . . . heard her? She’d have been embarrassed if not for the fact that he’d blown her mind.
“Yep. And Alessandra is a Cheld. Likely from her father. But since he died—”
Charlotte closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Her eyes flew open at the sound of her friend’s voice.
“I knew you were angry about what you overheard and thought it might be better for you to hear it from him first,” Alessandra said, walking toward them. “But then Toni reminded me of how we first reacted.” She looked at Torr. “And thought he might need some backup.”
Her body suddenly felt as if it were floating above the chair. This was the strangest fever dream she’d ever had, and yet she knew it was no dream.
“What he’s saying is true, Charlotte. I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” Alessandra knelt beside her. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
Charlotte looked from her friend to Torr, and back again, looking for any indication that either of them would smile or laugh. But neither did. They were not joking. They meant every word.
The teeth. The jump. His hearing.
“She doesn’t believe it yet,” Alessandra said, standing. “Sorry about this, Charlotte. But seeing is believing.” After leaning over the porch railing and looking up and down the street, she ran.
Only Charlotte had never seen anyone or anything run like that. Alessandra burst off the porch so quickly that she barely had time to register her friend was missing.
Jumping up from her seat, she took a deep breath in. And out. In. And out.
Until she was, for all intents and purposes, hyperventilating.
By then Alessandra had returned and had thrown her arms around her.
“It’s OK. I’m so, so sorry. I know, it’s a lot. Just breath.”
Charlotte held on to Alessandra as tightly as her nanny had every night at bedtime. After giving her friend one final squeeze, Charlotte sucked in the cool October air and pushed back.
“I have questions.”
Alessandra and Torr exchanged a glance.
“Shoot,” her friend said.
Charlotte’s legs felt a little shaky, but she could no longer bear to sit. In fact, she couldn’t even stand still. Pacing the length of the porch, she asked no one in particular, “Vampires . . . are real?”
Without waiting for an answer, she shot out another question. “Do you kill people?”
That one was for Torr.
He didn’t answer, but he also didn’t need to answer. The look on his face did it for him. Horror roiled inside her. She’d been luxuriating in the caresses of a murderer.
Alessandra frowned at Torr’s lack of response. “They don’t kill indiscriminately, but they’ll do it to defend themselves—”
“Against what, exactly? What could a vampire have to defend themselves against?” She felt her eyes fly open even wider. “Oh my word. There are other creatures—”
Both of them shook their heads. “There aren’t werewolves or boogeymen or anything. It’s not what you’re thinking,” Alessandra said.
“Unless you consider Alessandra a creature,” Torr added dryly.
Which earned him another sharp look. “Stop helping.”
Charlotte waited, not so patiently, for them to explain themselves.
Torr leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “My brother’s wife—Isobel, the one I mentioned—was a powerful healer. When Alec was killed, she accidentally cursed both my family and Kenton’s, creating, essentially, the first two vampire families. Later—”
“How does one accidentally curse their own family?” she blurted out, pacing once again.
“Our families were enemies for many years. She blamed my father for not accepting the earl . . . Kenton’s father’s offer of peace. When Alec was killed, we demanded bloodwite—”
“Sorry?”
“Bloodwite. A blood debt. Payment as recompense for Alec’s death at the hands of their kin.”
“They didn’t pay it,” Alessandra cut in, “because there was no proof it was truly Kenton’s kin who were responsible.”
“No proof except for witnesses—”
“Who were also members of Clan Karyn—”
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Kind of going through a mental breakdown here. Can you focus?”
“Sorry,” Alessandra mumbled, chastened for once.
“Clan? And you said . . . earl?” She whirled on Torr. “Um, I know your family is from Scotland.” She swallowed hard before asking her next question, her heart pounding. “When exactly did this all happen?”
Torr did that thing with his lips. And this time, it had nothing to do with desire.
Well, crap.
“Alec was killed in 1274.”
The hairs on her arms stood straight up. “Pardon?”
“We are . . . I am . . . over seven hundred years old.”
Charlotte blinked for a moment and then started to laugh. At first it was a forced laugh, her smile as fake as her mother’s boobs. But as she continued, tears began to stream down her face, her stomach actually straining with the effort.
As if from some distant place, she heard Torr say something about her being in shock.
Shock? Why ever would that be?
And then she began to cry in earnest.
Chapter 10
Torr had witnessed and taken part in plenty of disclosures over the years. Some worse than this one. Typically, the way the individual took the news depended on his or her willingness to accept the inexplicable. As he stood there, helpless, watching Alessandra comfort Charlotte, he found himself transported back to his own struggle to accept the truth—no less vivid for the passing of time.
The ruin they’d wrought in those first weeks still haunted him. They knew they’d become monsters—why else would they hunger for blood? Why else would they be compelled to attack innocents?—but not why.
Not at first.
Of his family, he’d had the hardest time adjusting to the change. Isobel’s countercurse, the Balance, had made it easier for them to control the bloodthirst. They could feed from humans without giving away their secret, for the victim would instantly forget. And they could also subsist off animal blood.
Only it was hard. Hardest for Torr, for some reason.
He was the first vampire to change a human into one of them. He’d never forget the feel of her limp, l
ifeless body under him. The shock of it had nearly paralyzed him, for he hadn’t remembered attacking her.
The sound of Lady Isobel’s scream reverberated in his mind still. Running up to the girl whose mother had served Clan Karyn for more than forty years, she felt her pulse. Alive, but barely.
After admonishing him not to touch the girl, his sister-in-law ran to her chamber. Feeling every bit the monster he’d become, Torr knelt beside his third human victim since becoming a vampire and simply stared. When Isobel returned, she slathered a poultice on the wound and cradled the girl’s head in her arms.
There was no censure on Isobel’s face, he remembered that much. It was her curse, after all, that had turned him into a beast. The relief that flooded him when the girl’s eyes opened would soon fade when she too thirsted for blood.
And so they learned inadvertently that this Nine Herbs Charm, if applied to the wound of a vampire’s bite when the victim was only a heartbeat away from death, could turn a human into an immortal. A monstrosity, or so he’d believed himself to be at the time.
The feeling of self-rebuke had only strengthened when she was slain by one of the Cheld after she had killed more humans than him and his siblings combined.
Only later had his attitude toward immortality changed. Only later had he begun to see it as a gift.
It was easy enough to forget what it had been like at the beginning. To focus on the strength and power, the knowledge and wealth that came from being alive for so long.
But at times like this, the memories came flooding back, assaulting him with their vileness. With the bitter knowledge of what he was and what he’d done.
Torr was a vampire. And if Charlotte looked at him now with more than a healthy dose of horror in her expression . . . well, he’d earned it.
When she finally pulled away from Charlotte, Alessandra reached up and brushed her sleeve across her friend’s eye.
“Mascara.” She lowered her hand and smiled. “Are you okay?”
Charlotte darted a glance at him before returning her attention to Alessandra.
“I think so. I . . . still have questions. It’s just hard to—”
The Hunter's Affection (Bloodwite Book 3) Page 7
