by Jenn Burke
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because you weren’t happy, and I sure as hell wasn’t happy, and we were never going to make each other happy. I wasn’t what you needed.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it? Think about it. You needed someone to accept you, to welcome you, to love you as openly as they could, and that wasn’t me.”
“It could have been.”
“Not a chance. Not in 1985.” Hudson lifted his hand as though he were going to cup my cheek.
Despite the questions that still lingered between us, I wanted to feel his skin on mine. I wanted to feel the roughness of his hands, the calluses that had always made his touch that little bit more interesting. I closed my eyes—
“And not now.”
I blinked my eyes open, the verbal knife twisting in my heart, but Hudson wasn’t looking at me. A petite woman—and I mean petite; she couldn’t have been taller than five feet, even with her platform heels—was exiting the condo and getting into a taxi. I had a glimpse of short blue hair, skinny jeans and a flowing tunic top before she disappeared from view.
“That’s Gemma?” I was expecting a badass woman in a power suit, not a hippie throwback.
“Yep.” Hudson checked his mirrors and pulled into traffic a little ways behind the cab. “She’s fashionably late.”
“For?”
“A charity thing at the racetrack.”
“You knew where she was going to be all along? Then why the hell—”
“In case she didn’t go. In case she makes a stop on the way there. In case someone decided to visit her instead. There’s a ton of reasons.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, slouching—and then I straightened and dug out my phone as I remembered something. “What’s the charity?”
“Pixies. It’s a wish fulfillment for sick kids thing.” He glanced over as I flipped through windows on my phone. “What are you looking for?”
“This.” I held up my phone to show him the screen.
“I’m driving, Wes.”
“Right. Okay, so, Pixies is doing a series of these small, exclusive events. One a month for six months. This is the third. They’ve each got themes—oh, tonight’s is a modern fairy ring. That’s cool.”
Hudson made his trademark noise.
“Irrelevant, got it. So, this series of events came up when I was researching Meredith. She attended the first two.”
“And Cyril was on the list to attend tonight—that’s why Gemma is going, to honor his commitment.” There was a flash of excitement in Hudson’s voice. “Do you have the complete guest lists for the last events?”
“I think so. Why?”
“Because you might have just uncovered the connection we needed between Meredith and Cyril.”
Chapter Ten
Of course it wasn’t that easy. Contrary to what he’d said earlier, Hudson opted to follow Gemma into the casino so I could work on getting the guest lists for the previous events out of my cloud-hosted research files. I was able to confirm that Meredith and Cyril had been on the list for all of the events, and I skimmed the other fifty or so names on the list, but none stood out. I forwarded it to Hudson and when he returned to the car, he understandably wore a scowl.
It wasn’t the metaphorical smoking gun he’d hoped it was, but it was something. A very small something.
It was almost midnight by the time Hudson pulled up to my car in the hospital parking lot. I didn’t make any move to get out, oddly unwilling to let our night end. “So it turns out I like hanging with you better when there aren’t any murder victims involved.”
Hudson chuckled. “They kind of deaden the fun.”
I stared at him. “That was horrendous.”
“Dead-on terrible, huh?”
“Stop. Dear god.”
“I’m glad our outing wasn’t a total dead end. The investigation isn’t quite dead in the water anymore.”
“I will pay you to stop.”
“I—”
Before he could utter another terrible pun, I pressed my hand to his mouth. I meant it in a fun, joking sort of way, but as soon as my eyes met his, things slid sideways on me. The tension that had kept me from getting out of the car immediately snapped between us, and after a moment, I recognized it.
Thirty-three years. I’d missed his companionship and his presence. I’d missed having a partner to lean on, to share with, to seek comfort from—and to give comfort to. And now my body was speaking up—it had missed more than Hudson’s cuddles and closeness. The bubbles I’d felt when we’d first met were long gone, replaced by taut bands of lust and desire fueled by memories of what being with Hudson had been like. How he’d kissed me, held me, brought me to heights of sensation I hadn’t known existed. How I’d connected with him in a physical way that I hadn’t experienced since we’d split up.
I wanted, damn it.
As if he’d read my mind, Hudson opened his mouth and captured my thumb. I’d forgotten how sensual that could feel, as though the digit were directly connected to my dick. Hudson’s tongue caressed the pad of my thumb, teasing, playing, and I bit my lower lip. Without my permission, a moan escaped, and I—
Was left staring at Hudson as he shoved my hand away. “Out,” he ordered, his voice short. He wouldn’t look at me.
“Hud—”
“We’re not revisiting this. Us.”
I bristled. “Does this hot and cold shit work on other guys? Because, god, you’re giving me whiplash.”
“Stop hitting on me and I won’t have to say no.”
“Stop—” I blinked. “Seriously? Who the fuck just fellated my thumb?”
“Get out.”
“Fine.” I stabbed the seat belt release button and yanked it off me. “You’re fucked up, Hud. I hope you know that.”
He chuckled, and there was no humor in it. “Oh, I know.”
I watched his red beast disappear around the corner, and I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Confused, mostly. Maybe a little horny too, which yeah, totally not used to that. It certainly wasn’t helping me think, and that was something I needed to do.
I had so many questions. So many. And no answers.
But I knew of one way I could start to unravel the mystery that was Hudson Rojas.
* * *
After moving to Toronto, I’d received regular letters from April. They consisted of town gossip and updates about her life, and although I scoffed at them to start, they were a connection to the world I sorely needed. I couldn’t let anyone get too close—particularly when my lack of aging became apparent—so without those letters, and then those from her daughter and granddaughter, it would have been far too easy to drift away from humanity altogether. Then Lexi had cannonballed into my life as an eighteen-year-old student who’d moved to Ontario to get away from her mother and to get to know this weird family friend who’d been around longer than forever (as a teenager knows it), and yeah, I was firmly rooted in the real world now.
About five years or so after my original move across the country, April’s regular update had been shadowed by a two-sentence paragraph about the difficulty of her first (and only) pregnancy. Though she didn’t say as much, I could read between the lines that she was beyond worried. In fact, her terror at the idea of losing the baby came across loud and clear. Or maybe I was projecting my own worries onto her words. Whatever the case, I desperately wanted to be with her, to offer reassurance in person.
And suddenly, I was.
I called it haunting, though that wasn’t the best description. It was more like directed teleportation, using the otherplane to skip instantly through the real world from point A to point B. All I had to do was picture someone I knew and—zoom, through the otherplane I went to emerge into the living plane wherever they were. The effort always drained me, no matter the distance traveled
, so I didn’t use it often.
It didn’t work on places, only people, so when I haunted April by accident, I couldn’t get back the same way. That was a valuable lesson learned. Always have enough money for a train fare—or plane, as the years progressed.
Tonight, I was going to haunt Hudson.
I mulled it over on the drive from the hospital to home. It was the quickest way to get an insight into what made him tick. Fuck this cryptic bullshit. This hot and cold back and forth. He was keeping secrets—and okay, maybe I didn’t have a right to know what they were, but he knew my secret, right? My biggest one, anyway. Or...part of my biggest one. Regardless, whatever his secret was, it might be the thing that tied everything together. If we knew what he and the killer had in common that made their shadows look the same, we would have a starting point.
And if he wasn’t going to share that knowledge, I was going to take it.
I stood in my living room and took a deep breath as I rubbed my hands together, trying to psyche myself up. It had been a while since I’d done this. “Okay, Wes. Like riding a bike,” I muttered.
Closing my eyes, I reached into the core of myself, a little deeper than I normally went to access the otherplane. That was as natural as breathing. This? It was natural too, but more like breathing while running. You had to put some effort into it to get the rhythm right. I kept the image of Hudson, my sense of his essence, at the forefront of my mind—his integrity, his sense of justice, the deeply buried joie de vivre that hadn’t been so deeply buried when I’d first met him. And... I extended myself.
My apartment faded. There was a sense of rushing, then—music.
Really loud music.
Shocked, I blinked and staggered sideways, shaking my head as I tried to acclimatize to the strobe lighting. I bumped into a figure beside me and they pushed me back, but I caught a grin on their androgynous face, so I gave a tentative smile and a thumbs-up. That seemed to be all the apology they needed.
Thank god, because between the flashing colors, the overwhelming noise, the effort of haunting and the crowd, I was reeling too much to offer anything more.
Where the hell was I?
A club, obviously. A loud, over-the-top, riotous club—exactly the sort of place Hudson hated. And I mean hated. He’d always grumbled—loudly—whenever I wanted to go dancing. Some of that was because he didn’t want to be seen heading into the sorts of clubs where we could enjoy each other’s company freely, but mostly he despised the headache-inducing lights and ear-shattering music.
So why would he be here?
I scanned the crowd, looking for him—and surprisingly found him easily. Not too many people had his height and build, and this place seemed to be populated with guys more my stature than his. He was standing by a man who was leaning against the wall on the other side of the dance floor—younger, smaller, with hair that was too dark to be blond and too light to be black. I couldn’t make out anything else about him. Hudson’s head was crooked downward so he could talk to him—
No...not talk.
My mouth dropped open at the sight of Hudson nuzzling the shorter guy’s neck. They were pressed together, and Hudson had one arm braced against the wall, keeping the guy caged. The younger guy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his expression was rapturous, as though this was exactly what he’d been looking for when he came out tonight.
That made one of us.
I should...uh. Go. I should definitely not continue to stand here and watch Hudson make out with another guy, but I felt like I was rubbernecking on the highway. It was a bad thing to do, but irresistible—especially since the desire Hudson had aroused in me earlier was still thrumming through my veins. The memories might be decades old, but were still strong—how his kisses and nibbles had felt on my skin, how he’d whispered into my ear, how I’d felt when he’d loomed over my smaller frame.
Haunting him to get a better picture of the new Hudson crossed a line—I’d known and accepted that. But standing here with a half chubby as carnal memories flooded me while he made out with another guy? A whole ’nother line was being crossed.
Hudson tongued the guy’s ear and leaned back with a grin I’d only ever seen on his face in the bedroom—it was sultry, seductive, enticing, and cocky as fuck. An expression that said, I know you want what I’ve got...so come get it. It wasn’t even directed at me, and I was practically panting, so it was no shock when the guy grinned and nodded.
I expected Hudson to lead the kid to the front of the club, to his monster of a car and then home, wherever that was these days—but he headed for the back. Was he...were they going to fuck in the bathroom?
I trailed behind them, too curious for my own good, and slipped into the otherplane when they started down a corridor with only a few other people in it. Hudson tugged on the guy’s hand and led him to the back door, propped slightly open.
So, not a bathroom fuck—a back alleyway one. “Classy,” I muttered.
Of course I followed. Why stop now?
By the time I passed through the door, Hudson had the young guy pressed up against the alley wall. The area was none too clean, which made me thankful that odors couldn’t cross into the otherplane. I was sure the concrete was rank—but if you were horny enough, it didn’t seem to matter.
There was no one else in the alley but Hudson and his, uh, date. The guy let out a particularly loud moan and Hudson shushed him, murmuring something I couldn’t make out. Or maybe it was wordless, who knew. He licked the guy’s neck at the same time that his hand reached into his pants, and the kid whimpered.
Yep. Those hands. Big, rough, warm, callused—the perfect amount of friction and texture that always got me off in record time.
I closed my eyes as my stomach twisted. God, I shouldn’t be here. Watching Hudson fuck a rando wasn’t what I’d had in mind for the night, and I’ll admit it saddened me. Partly because I’d had what this kid was experiencing and, yeah, I was envious. Partly because I’d kind of been offering him the same thing not an hour before, and he hadn’t been interested. But mostly because I wanted more for Hudson than this. Even though we’d parted on not the best terms, I’d wanted him to be happy. To be fulfilled, not only by his job but in his personal life too.
I was starting to get the picture that the new Hudson had nothing but the job, and that made my heart ache.
The young guy’s breath caught and I opened my eyes. One last look, and I’d—
I’d—
Hudson was...sucking on the guy’s neck. Sucking hard, like he wanted to leave the mother of all hickeys. That had never been Hudson’s kink, but hey, things changed. Tastes changed. Whatever worked...for everyone...
Except the kid was getting loose-limbed. Boneless.
And Hudson wasn’t only sucking. He was swallowing. I could hear it, hear him—gulping—
I lost my grip on the otherplane and slammed back into the real world. “What the fuck?”
Hudson jerked at my shout—and two long, incredibly sharp fangs ripped out the kid’s throat.
Chapter Eleven
“No!” Hudson pressed his hands to the wound, but blood spurted between his fingers. “Shit, shit...no no no.”
Oh my god. His eyes—they were yellow. And glowing.
“What the—What were you—Hudson!”
“Shut the fuck up, Wes!” He lowered the kid to the pavement and bent over him, fastening his mouth onto his wound.
“What are you—” I darted forward, half thinking I’d pull him off the kid—his victim—but Hudson fended me off with one hand. One incredibly strong hand.
As he sucked the kid dry.
“This can’t be happening,” I whispered.
It was a nightmare—had to be. A very detailed nightmare, complete with odors of rancid piss comingling with coppery blood and the ever-present miasma of exhaust fumes from the street in front of the clu
b. Conversation from the distant, unseen sidewalk was a constant buzz, and the bass beat escaping through the cracked door almost camouflaged the sound of the young man’s dying breaths.
Tears stung as I witnessed my ex-boyfriend take another person’s life.
You’re fucked up, Hud.
Oh, I know.
Hudson lifted his head from the guy’s neck and I got a good look at his fangs. His canine teeth had...grown, descending over his bottom teeth like miniature stilettos. They glistened pink in the small but powerful light over the door. He glanced at me, his expression unreadable—and for a moment I thought I was next. No murderer likes witnesses, after all. I was immortal, in theory, but in reality, could I withstand an attack from a—from a—
No. I was not going to say that word. I was not going to label Hudson that. Because then it would be real.
Hudson bit his own wrist and held it over the guy’s torn throat, then his mouth. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone compelling and urgent. “Drink, goddamn it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“Turning him.”
“Turn—” God, I was breathing too fast, but I couldn’t help it. My heart was pounding, and the rushing of blood in my ears drowned out every other noise. I hugged my chest, squeezing hard, but it wasn’t going to stop me from falling apart. I was going to shatter right along with my reality, and fall to the floor of the alley in a million pieces—
“Wes!”
I refocused on Hudson, who was looking at me with an expression stretched thin. Probably not the first time he’d called my name, then. “What?”
“You need to hold it together.”
A laugh burst from me, high-pitched and tripping on the edge of hysteria.
“I’m serious. I need your help.”
I waved a hand at the kid attached to Hudson’s wrist. He was sucking on the skin—no, the wound—hard, and I gagged. “You killed him.”
“By accident.”
“By accident? You—you—you were—you were—”
