The Hunter's Affection (Bloodwite Book 3)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “I told her, but she thinks I’ll change my mind.”

  And he wouldn’t. Not with this.

  Torr had only ever turned one person, and that had been a disaster. He’d not repeat that mistake again.

  “That was hundreds of years ago, and technically, it wasn’t the turning that killed her.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  The thought of something happening to Charlotte—

  “So let one of us do it.”

  He’d thought of, and dismissed, that idea as well.

  “If anyone is going to turn her, it will be me.”

  “But you just said you won’t do it—”

  “I won’t.”

  Laria rolled her eyes. “There’s the Torr I know and love. So your alternative—”

  “Is to convince her to come with me, stay with me, as human as she is now.”

  He had shocked his sister into silence. Not an easy feat.

  “Wow.”

  “Lar, she’s amazing. She tries so hard to be perfect without even realizing she doesn’t need to try. There’s a wild side to her—”

  “That can keep up with you?” Laria chuckled. “Hard to believe.”

  “But true. I’ve never met a woman like her.”

  “Then do it. If she’s really willing to leave her life here in Stone Haven, you’d be a fool to leave her behind.”

  “She is. Can you imagine—”

  “No.” Laria shrugged. “Sorry to be so blunt, but no, I can’t. You’re a total pain in the ass.” At least she smiled as she said it.

  “But fun,” he prodded.

  “And arrogant.”

  “Loyal.”

  “With an extremely high opinion of yourself.”

  “And of Charlotte. Trust me on this—”

  “Torr . . .” She began to walk again, so he followed. “I do trust you, with my life. Despite all of your shortcomings.”

  “Of which there are only a few.”

  “But I can’t say I disagree with her. I’ve done it, and can tell you. It’s no fun to watch someone you care about age and die, not when you stay the same.”

  Which was why he’d been hesitant to talk to his sister about this. Unlike him, she had been in relationships with humans. She’d even turned one man, who was kind of the Voldemort of their family, the one who shall not be named. Which was how he knew Laria was capable of understanding how the pain of the past could influence decisions they made now, hundreds of years later.

  Some wounds ran too deep for even time to heal.

  “Why don’t you come with me next door to feed—”

  “No.”

  Unlike Morley, they didn’t keep a storage of blood, the Derricksons preferring to feed on live humans. At least, the males in their family. Laria had always been a bit less discriminating.

  “You just finished saying Charlotte makes you a better man. Prove it. Come over of your own volition—”

  “Laria . . .”

  “And put this feud to rest. Or at least to bed, for a nap. Seriously, Torr. You have to see Kenton is on our side—”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Fine! But you can be cordial to him. Besides, Charlotte and Alessandra are good friends.”

  He shrugged. “Alessandra, I like. Despite her taste in men.”

  They’d arrived on the street just below the two mansions. If they kept walking, they’d reach their temporary home; if they turned right, they’d arrive at Kenton’s doorstep. Straight ahead, Lawrence’s and to the right, Kenton and Alessandra’s. Which reminded him—

  “He refuses to turn Alessandra, and yet she stays with him,” he pointed out.

  “That’s different, and you know it,” Laria said, granting him no ground to stand on. “There are legitimate concerns with turning a Cheld. It’s never been done, and until Kenton has evidence it can be done safely . . .” Laria produced a frustrated sound in her throat that, for some reason, made him laugh.

  “You sound like a wild boar.”

  “And when is the last time you heard one?”

  “It’s been a few years, I suppose.”

  She’d already veered right, which was how he found himself begrudgingly standing next to his sister as Mary opened the ground-level door to the Henry Hutton house. Ushering them up to the living room, she asked if either of them required a drink, but Laria declined.

  He followed suit. The drink they needed wasn’t one Mary could fetch.

  “Laria.” Kenton rounded the corner, spying his sister first. “Alessandra isn’t . . .”

  “We know,” his sister said. “She’s at Murphy’s with Charlotte.”

  Kenton watched him as he would if they were still on the battlefield between their land. Wary. Ready. Certainly not friendly.

  “I convinced Torr to come for a drink.” She said the last word with special emphasis.

  Kenton’s eyes narrowed, his gaze as sharp as ever.

  “I see.”

  Nodding toward the red room, he followed them up to the fully stocked bar.

  Kenton knelt down low, disappearing, and emerged from the small refrigerator with a bottle of what appeared to be sloe gin. He glanced at Laria, who nodded, and then poured three glasses of the deep red liquid.

  “If Mary were to accidentally pour from that?”

  Laria pulled her phone from her purse. “’Scuse me.”

  Although the phone had been ringing, Torr found it awfully convenient he’d been left alone with Kenton.

  “Cheers,” Kenton said tightly, lifting his glass.

  “Sláinte,” he responded, drinking the entire cup of blood in one gulp.

  “Been a while?”

  “Yes. Too long.”

  He looked into the clear blue eyes across from him, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the one standing at this bar in a sleepy Pennsylvania town. He remembered staring at this same man from across a battlefield. Morley had been in full armor, ready to do battle to steal Clan Karyn’s ancestral lands out from under them. It had come to nothing but a brief skirmish—one in a long line. The land had remained with Clan Karyn, to whom it belonged. And yet, he and Kenton Morley had tangled many more times over the years.

  “Provins,” he said, remembering. “Fourteen seventy—”

  “Two,” Kenton said.

  So he did remember.

  “The girl couldn’t have been more than twenty—”

  “A woman. But yes, she was young.”

  And beautiful. Not to mention alone in the world, her arousal in some ways like Alessandra’s. She had not known her parents, so the abilities she’d begun to acquire had confused her. Frightened her. She hadn’t had time to master them.

  “Do you regret it?”

  It was the question he’d wanted to ask since coming back to town. If Kenton truly had joined their side . . .

  “No.”

  Not the answer he was looking for.

  “Not taking her life? Not any of them?”

  “Will my regret save her? Or any of the Cheld I killed?”

  “No, but—”

  “It would only serve to tear away at my soul, little by little. Every Cheld. Every kill . . .” He shook his head. “I can say I’ve never killed one who had not been able to defend themselves. I can rationalize that, over time, they attempted to end my life as well. But I realize now, those are excuses for my actions. I can’t regret the past. But I can learn from it. Or, at least, learn from the present.”

  “From Alessandra, you mean? We spent centuries telling you not all Cheld were bad—”

  “And I spent centuries believing it didn’t matter. That I’d do anything to protect my brothers from the fate that took my mother’s life.”

  Torr surprised himself by feeling for him, at least on that account. For centuries, the Morleys had been together, but now both brothers were estranged from him. He couldn’t imagine how painful that must be.

  “Have you heard from either of them?”

 
Kenton sighed, took another sip, and shook his head.

  “No. I’ve given up trying to contact them. Neither will return my calls.”

  “With good reason.”

  Kenton looked up.

  “You’ve betrayed them.”

  “Jesus, Torr. You berate me for being on the wrong side but also for—”

  “I’m not berating you,” he said, meaning it. “I’m stating a fact. At least, they believe you betrayed them. Neither sees Alessandra as you do. To them, she is one of the enemy. No matter that she would never join the Sect.”

  “Rowan will kill her,” Kenton said flatly. The youngest Morley brother had witnessed his mother’s murder, her head removed by a Cheld. And he’d become the most ruthless of all of them because of it.

  Torr pushed his glass toward Kenton and nodded. His nemesis refilled it, and he drank deeply again. He’d gone much too long without blood.

  “And Drake?” he asked.

  There it was again. The ever-so-slight tug on his heart at the utter desperation on Kenton’s face.

  “I don’t know. But luckily, Alessandra’s instincts are strong—”

  “I’ve never met a stronger Cheld. And after tracking them for so many years, I’ve met plenty.”

  “Perhaps . . .” He stopped. Could he really go down this path? “Laria and I have discussed heading to Lindisfarne once the bar is open. Since we’re on the same side for once, we should talk about a strategy.”

  He’d seriously just proposed working with Morley to uncover the potential seat of the Sect.

  “I agree we should talk more. It may be good to investigate, to learn why the Sect has become so bold.”

  Kenton finished his glass, which had only been partly filled. He didn’t need to feed. He’d only joined them to be polite.

  Kenton Morley. Polite.

  What alternate universe was he living in?

  “Torr Derrickson, the ultimate Cheld hunter—”

  “I’ve always hated that name.”

  In the beginning, he’d been called the Hunter. Despite the Morleys’ keen ability to track new Cheld, he had nearly always gotten to them first. Although the brothers had become more skilled over the years, none of the other vampires could quite match his skill, one he’d acquired well before the curse. He’d been their clan’s tracker and was good at it. Animal, man . . . he could hunt down anything that moved and had been called on to do just that for many years since.

  The Hunter.

  He hated the name. Eventually his brother and sister had stopped using it.

  “I don’t mean it as an insult,” Kenton said.

  “I help, not hunt. If anything, you . . . or your brothers were the hunters.”

  “And you’d been talking so cordially . . .”

  He spun toward the doorway, where his brother and Toni stood. Both of them looked surprised to find him here—no more surprised than he himself felt.

  “Fair enough,” Kenton said as the two walked into the room. “How’s it going?”

  Lawrence sat next to him, still looking as if he’d seen a ghost. Torr laughed at his bewildered expression. His older brother was usually so in control—it was a comfort to see him off-balance.

  “I stand corrected,” Lawrence said to Toni. “Charlotte is exactly what my brother needs. He’s a changed man.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sitting right here, big brother.”

  “So you are.”

  “Good,” Toni said to Kenton. “To answer your question about the bar, everything is ahead of schedule so far. It makes me nervous actually. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “Which means we need to gear up our advertising.” Lawrence accepted a bottle of beer from Kenton. “Did you talk to the ad agency today?” he asked Toni.

  “No shop talk,” Laria said, coming into the room.

  “Good timing.” He was positive now the call had been staged—Laria was a woman of resources—and he gave her a look to say as much. Torr wasn’t fooled by her innocent smile.

  “We have more pressing matters to discuss,” Laria said, playing with her ever-present ponytail. Not a good sign. This was what she did when she was battling her nerves.

  “More pressing than opening a bar in less than two weeks?” Lawrence asked.

  “Yup. I saw something today when I was following Zach.” Something she’d been doing for the past week.

  “You didn’t say anything on the way here—” he started.

  “Anyway,” she said, cutting him off. “He met with Tyler and told him about the journal.”

  Everyone tried to talk at once, Torr included—why hadn’t she mentioned anything? Was she so desperate for him and Morley to talk?—but she raised up a hand with plenty of attitude.

  “Relax. He didn’t tell him what was in it. He just confessed it was the reason he broke into the shop, but he basically admitted to not having a clue why his grandmother wanted it. Which would be good, except Tyler convinced him to find out why, exactly, his grandmother wanted it.”

  “Meddling son of a bitch—”

  “OK, Lawrence, you hate him. We get it. But you’re looking at this the wrong way,” Laria said in her typical no-nonsense tone. “This is how we can figure out what all Annabel knows. If she tells Zach, I’ll find out.”

  “Are you going to sleep outside his window?” Torr asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He was kidding. Sort of, anyway. But the look on Laria’s face said she planned to do just that.

  “Laria, you need to be careful—”

  “Says the only person who I saved from a wooden stake just last year.”

  “Now hold on a minute—”

  “I can take care of myself,” Laria said. “Besides, it’s gotten a bit boring around here. I’d like a bit of a challenge.”

  “Boring?” Toni snorted. “If this is boring, I can’t imagine what kind of life you people lived before.”

  Every person in the room turned to look at her, and Toni burst out laughing. “OK, maybe I can. Forget I said anything.” Torr was laughing with her when she shifted her gaze to him. It narrowed, and he knew he was in trouble.

  “What’s this about not turning Charlotte?” she asked. “She told me all about it, and honestly, I’m with her. The girl has been through hell and back, and if I were her, I wouldn’t run around the world following you without any special powers either.”

  His jaw wasn’t the only one that had dropped.

  “What? No sense beating around the bush. Lawrence plans on turning me. So what’s it gonna be, Torr? I know my girl, and Charlotte will not back down. Turn her or lose her, that’s what I always say.”

  Lawrence’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You’ve never once said such a thing.”

  Despite the gravity of her words, Torr couldn’t help smiling at the pit bull that was his brother’s girlfriend.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t going to like his answer.

  He didn’t much like it either.

  Chapter 21

  Charlotte pulled the covers closer, a draft at her back waking her. No, not just a draft.

  A hand.

  Gliding across her arm . . . caressing her softly.

  She spun around. “How did you get in here?”

  Torr pressed his finger to her lips as she worked out the answer. The window was open a crack. He’d come in through the fire escape and was sitting on her bed.

  Charlotte watched as he lifted her old T-shirt—she’d have worn something a bit sexier had she known he’d turn up in her bed—above her head, the moonlight his guide.

  Wordlessly, he continued to undress her.

  Taking off his own shirt, Torr proceeded to move between her legs, slow and methodical. No wonder they called him the Hunter, though Charlotte doubted his prey were typically as willing as she.

  His kissed her then, so tenderly Charlotte didn’t ever want him to stop. But he did. Moving lower, he kissed her neck and chest, then each breast, as reverently as if she
were made of something so delicate it would shatter at too rough a touch.

  Lower and lower still until he was between her legs. Pushing her knees to the side, he looked up one last time, his cheeks unshaven.

  He knew she liked his scruff, and so he’d kept it.

  Good thing, because as it scraped against her legs, the scratch of it sent tingles straight to her core. And then he was there, his tongue moving expertly as she gripped the comforter for leverage.

  She’d give him one thing.

  Centuries of practice had certainly paid off. He knew how to pleasure a woman, even if she didn’t care to dwell on how he’d come by that knowledge. His fingers dug into the flesh of her legs as she lifted her buttocks from the bed. When he moaned, as if feeling her pleasure, Charlotte lost it. Slowly at first, the pulsations building and then exploding. Shattering. The noise? Apparently her. But Charlotte couldn’t care less if every person in the apartment building could hear her right now.

  Nothing mattered but Torr and this moment.

  Every muscle in her body clenched as his words came back to her.

  You want me to turn you, but you have no idea what you’re asking.

  “Feed from me,” she blurted.

  Torr’s blessedly handsome head lifted from between her legs, but he was no longer smiling.

  “Charlotte—”

  “Please.”

  She knew what they were getting into. By this point, she was well-versed in the effects of a vampire bite. The Balance ensured a vampire’s victim would feel no pain—and that they would not remember the incident. Only after many feedings would the fog begin to lift. Alessandra was unique; the fog had never come for her. Toni was beginning to remember more and more each time.

  “I’m ready,” she said, her voice firm.

  The sight of him poised between her legs, the contrast between his bright eyes and the dark shadow gracing his cheeks, nearly proved too much for her. The anticipation she felt didn’t help matters, because she knew the experience could be an erotic one.

  “Bite me already,” she said, impatient. When he dropped his fangs, her heart began to race.

  He was going to do it.

  Did that mean he was softening on his stance about turning her too?