He should have been out of there by now. There was no way he could survive those flames as they licked up the side of the building and leapt to life in the third-floor windows. The crashes and bangs from inside quaked the ground.
It became increasingly difficult for her to breathe as the seconds stretched endlessly onward. She struggled to focus on the humans as she turned from one to another.
Then, through the smoke and fire, a figure emerged. Cassidy held her breath as she stepped back toward the building. Please. Please. Please.
Disappointment crashed through her when Zan emerged from the chaos. Bull hung limply over his shoulder, and as Zan bent to lower his friend to the ground, Dante ran out the door behind him.
She released a strangled cry of joy and finished with the human in front of her. She staggered toward Dante as he lowered an unconscious woman to the ground. A glance at the woman’s soot-stained face told Cassidy it was the same woman he carried in the club.
When he knelt beside the woman, he placed his ear to her mouth as he checked her pulse. A frantic, desperate look crossed his face before he sat up and started doing chest compressions. He paused to rest his ear against her mouth while he watched her chest before cupping his hands again and pressing them to the woman’s chest.
“Breathe!” he commanded in a voice made raspy from smoke inhalation.
Cassidy tuned out the chaos surrounding them as she focused solely on him. The concentration on his face and his relentless desperation to save the woman mesmerized her.
He cares so much, she realized.
And that was why she would do everything she could to help him find Julie.
Chapter Fifteen
Cassidy felt like a bus had run her over by the time she trudged down the carpeted hallway toward Dante’s apartment building. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it. It was Kyle or Julian again, and though she’d already told them she was taking care of something and would talk to them later, they wouldn’t take the hint.
She loved her brothers, but sometimes she’d like to kill them. And when she was younger, she’d tried a time or two.
Now, all she yearned for was a shower, clean clothes, and a bed, but she couldn’t go back to her apartment smelling and looking like this. Her brothers were already going to jump down her throat when they learned what she’d been doing. If they saw her like this, they would only be more pissed.
So, instead, she’d gone to Walmart with Dante and bought some clothes while Dante called the hospital to find out how the woman he saved was doing. They had no new information to give him.
The woman hadn’t regained consciousness before the paramedics arrived on the scene, but Dante did get her breathing again. Once he did, Cassidy watched as he bit into his wrist and gave the woman some of his blood.
The sight of him feeding another caused something malicious to awaken inside her, but with effort, she clamped a lid over it. Still, recalling that sinister feeling disgusted her.
He was trying to save the woman’s life, and she was being selfish. And it was selfish because she realized she wanted his blood. She tried to shake off the appalling, lingering effects of that moment, but she could still feel that more malevolent piece of herself churning within her.
And then the sirens started wailing, and Dante pulled his wrist away from the woman as the first responders arrived. Having already awoken, Bull took off with the bartender while Zan took control of the paramedic’s minds. He rode with them to the hospital while Dante and Cassidy followed in a taxi.
The taxi driver was not happy to see them climb into the back seat of his cab, but fortunately for him, he didn’t remember the trip or his occupants. By the time they arrived at the hospital, the woman was conscious and Zan had changed her and the paramedic’s memories.
Zan climbed out of the back of the ambulance and got into the cab with them. None of them spoke as the taxi navigated the subdued city streets before dropping Zan off at Lavender Moon.
“Thank you for helping me find Bull,” Zan said to Dante as he climbed out of the cab.
Cassidy’s eyebrows rose at this revelation, but she wasn’t surprised. She was beginning to realize Dante would go to any lengths to save another. She couldn’t help but admire, and fear, his relentless determination.
While it was honorable, it might one day get him killed. And why was he so determined to find others? What happened to make him this way, or was he simply born with the ability to put other’s needs ahead of his? No matter the answer, she couldn’t help looking at him in a whole new way as she considered crawling into his arms and never letting go.
“You’re welcome,” Dante said.
Cassidy glanced at the driver. They were going to change his memories anyway, but she didn’t want to freak him out beforehand, so she was careful with how she worded her question. “What about those guys who took off earlier?” she asked about the vamps who were losing control before.
“I know everyone who was there tonight. I’ll take care of it.”
“Good,” she said.
“Don’t take offense to this, but I hope never to see the two of you again,” Zan said.
“No offense taken,” Dante told him. “But if you see Julie or Preston, call me.”
“Stubborn motherfucker,” Zan muttered before slamming the door.
Unable to resist, Cassidy leaned against Dante as they went to Walmart and then his apartment. And now, they were standing outside the door to apartment twenty-two. She was about to see the place where he lived; she was excited to see if it would offer more insight into the mysterious man who was steadily working his way into her heart.
“Home sweet home,” Dante said as he removed the keys from his pocket.
She didn’t know what to expect as he slid the key into the deadbolt and turned it. He lived a couple of blocks from her in a brownstone remodeled to hold as many apartments as possible. She suspected they were all studios or one-bedrooms, and the bedroom was more like a large closet.
Dante pushed open the door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. When Cassidy stepped into the apartment, his leather scent, along with the aroma of books, assailed her.
As she’d suspected, he lived in a studio. Thick slabs of pine, each about a foot wide, ran across the space, which was a little bigger than she anticipated. Across the way, a small kitchen with a stove, white cabinets with metal handles, and a refrigerator were separated from the main living area by half of a countertop. Black marble countertops contrasted with the cabinets and oak wood floor.
The neatly made, queen-size bed was to her left and covered in a navy-blue comforter. At the foot of the bed lay a quilt; the vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows comprising the quilt reminded her of the sunrise.
A single recliner sat in a corner near a closed door she assumed led to the bathroom. Bookshelves made of metal piping and wood shelves covered all available wall space and were stacked full of books. More books sat on the nightstand next to the bed and on the table beside the recliner. Mounted to the wall across from the recliner was a small TV.
A handful of pictures decorated the bookshelves, and when she looked closely, she recognized a young Dante in a couple of them. In the closest photo, he sat beside a young woman who didn’t look much older than him. Behind them stood a beaming couple who had their hands on the shoulders of what could only be their children. A panorama of Fenway hung over the bed, one of the Boston Garden hung in the kitchen, and nailed over the recliner was Gillette stadium.
Cassidy tore her attention away from the picture when Dante closed the door. The exhaustion etching his face created lines where none were before. His dark hair stood on end from running his hands through it, and they both reeked of smoke so bad, she could barely stand to breathe through her nose.
“You can shower first,” he said as he walked across the room and opened the closed door. “There are towels in the closet.”
“Thank you,” Cassidy said as she slipped into the small
bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Unlike the bathroom in her apartment, which could have stepped out of a nineteen seventies issue of home and garden, this one was entirely modern. The dark wood medicine cabinet and sink were masculine but also warm.
The shower, with its gleaming white surface, looked more inviting than a fluffy bed full of pillows. It was spotless; not even a speck of toothpaste marred the sink. She wasn’t a slob, but this place made her look like one.
She set her bag of clothes on the floor before examining her bloodshot eyes and drawn features in the mirror. She’d tried to clean herself up before going shopping, but soot still streaked the bottom of her chin and hairline.
She turned on the shower and stripped off her ruined clothes before opening the door across from the sink to reveal a small closet. Dante’s clothes hung neatly inside. They were a mix of sports jerseys, T-shirts, button-down shirts, jeans, and pants. All of the sports clothes were Boston teams. Beneath the clothes, towels and linens were neatly stacked on a set of shelves.
She removed two towels, closed the door, and gathered the bottles of shampoo and conditioner she purchased before stepping into the shower. The hot water made her sigh as it beat against her muscles and relaxed some of her tension. She wanted to stay there forever as she scrubbed the stench of smoke and fire from her, but as appealing as that was, she couldn’t use all the hot water.
Reluctantly, she turned off the water and stepped from the shower. She dried off and dressed before unwrapping the towel from her hair and drying it the best she could. She pulled out the brush she purchased and tried not to wince as she worked the tangles from her hair.
When she finished, she shoved her ruined clothes into the plastic bag and tied it closed. It did nothing to block the potent smell drifting from within. She held the bag away from her as she opened the door and stepped out of the room.
Dante stood at the counter dividing the kitchen from the main living area. His brow furrowed as he glared at his computer screen.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she opened the door and set her ruined clothes in the hall. She’d take them with her when she left.
Dante shook his head before looking at her. Cassidy’s breath caught when those chocolate eyes warmed while they leisurely perused her.
She’d purchased a Rolling Stones graphic tee and black hoodie from the store. The jeans were baggier than what she usually wore, and there was nothing sexy about her outfit, but the hunger in his gaze made her feel like she wore the sexiest lingerie.
Her body reacted to his need viscerally as her breasts felt heavier and an ache started between her legs. She’d never wanted anyone as badly as him; she couldn’t breathe as his ravenous gaze met hers again.
Dante tried to rid himself of his relentless desire for her. However, those baggy clothes somehow made her look more enticing. He would leisurely strip them from her while he kissed every inch of her long, slender body.
Then he recalled she almost died tonight, and it doused his growing arousal. “Nothing is wrong,” he assured her.
It took Cassidy a few seconds to find her voice as she worked to gain control of her body. “Then why do you look like you’re about to kill your computer?”
Dante closed his laptop. “There are more Preston’s in this city than I would have guessed.”
“How many of them are around Julie’s age?”
“A lot of them.”
Cassidy shifted as she fiddled with the sleeves of her baggy hoodie. “What about her friends? Do any of them know a Preston?”
“None of the ones I’ve talked to have mentioned him. Her friend Paris canceled on me today, but we’re supposed to meet tomorrow. When I talked with her friend Missy, she said Paris was the one who knew the most about Julie. However, Missy didn’t seem like much of a friend to me.”
“I’ve had a few friends like that in my lifetime.”
“Unfortunately, I think we all have. I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home; there’s blood in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you.”
Dante hesitated before heading into the bathroom. After the events of this night, all he wanted was to hold her and reassure himself she was okay.
However, he couldn’t stand the smell of himself anymore. He cast a glance back at where she stood by the door, looking a little lost as she played with the sleeves of her sweatshirt and gazed at his shelves. Reluctantly, he closed the door.
Chapter Sixteen
A small pang of loss tugged at Cassidy’s heart when Dante shut the door. She shoved it aside as she turned her attention to the bookshelves. She strolled the shelves, examining their contents. There were so many books that, in some areas, they were stacked two or three deep.
As she studied the titles, she was amused to discover he had a bunch of romance novels tossed in with his collection of sci-fi, fantasy, horror, thrillers, and classics. He didn’t seem to care what he read as long as he had something to read.
It reminded her of her taste in music. She favored music that relied heavily on the piano, like Billy Joel, but she loved and listened to everything as she sought to learn and absorb the beauty of each style. It may not all be as pleasing to the ear, but it was all music, and to her, it was all wonderful.
When she got to the picture of the happy family, she stopped to examine it more closely. They were beautiful, with their beaming smiles and their love for each other radiating from them. This family wasn’t pretending to be happy for the picture. Teenagers made it damn clear when they weren’t happy, no matter the circumstances.
While she studied this young, smiling Dante more closely, she pondered what happened to cause the sorrow that now resided in his eyes. Whatever it was, it must have been bad.
She ran her fingers over his face before pulling her hand away and walking into the kitchen. The violence in the club hadn’t sent her spiraling into bloodlust like some of the other vamps, but she was hungry. She pulled open the fridge, removed a bag of blood, and drank it in three gulps.
She tossed the bag in the trash and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The blood hadn’t completely satisfied her, but she felt a lot better as she returned to examining his books.
Dante turned off the shower, dressed, and opened the door as Cassidy pulled a silver photo album from the bookshelves. Shit!
He hadn’t forgotten it was there; he could never forget that, but in his rush to get clean, he hadn’t considered she might find it. If he had, he would have taken the thing with him and shoved it in the closet.
He almost shouted at her to put it back, but it was too late; she was already opening it. And yelling at her would do nothing more than confuse her and probably make her a little scared of him. He didn’t want her touching it and seeing what lay within, but he couldn’t risk pushing her away.
Being around her was the first bit of happiness he’d experienced in almost twenty years. He couldn’t go back to the dreary existence that ruled his days since Maya’s disappearance. While living in it, he’d made peace with his fate, but after having Cassidy in his life, it might kill him to go back.
He watched as she flipped through the pages covered in protective plastic before turning to the very first page. Her fingers fell on the photo there; she looked at his family picture on the bookshelf and back again.
Cassidy felt Dante’s eyes boring into her back, but she didn’t know what to say or how to react to what she’d discovered in the book. There were at least a hundred photos of young men and women inside it. Each had a name and date above them; some were marked dead while most others were marked found.
And on the very first page was the young woman from his family photo. Cassidy traced her fingers over the girl’s name, Maya, before taking in the letters written in a shaky hand “Lost.” Cassidy gulped as she started to understand some of Dante’s sadness.
She examined the photo and the woman’s sparkling black eyes as she beamed at the camera. In a candid sh
ot, the woman was looking over her shoulder at whoever snapped the picture. Her black hair, caught in a breeze, flowed around her face. She was stunning, brilliantly happy, and lost.
Finally finding the courage to do so, she turned to Dante. His jeans and black T-shirt hugged his lean frame. A brass locket with a rose compass on it hung in the middle of his chest, and she recalled it poking her cheek in the club.
The look on his face caused her hands to tighten on the book. There was something so wounded and guarded about him as he stared at her. She yearned to go to him, hug him, and ease the torment in his eyes, but she also wanted answers.
“Is she your sister?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“She was.”
“Was?”
For years, he’d known Maya hadn’t run away; she never would have willingly left them… unless she was dead. He knew it the minute she disappeared, but he’d never admitted it out loud to anyone before.
“I don’t know where she is, but I know she’s not alive,” he said. “She never would have taken off like some people believed she did. She didn’t have a boyfriend to run away with, and all her friends were still here. She wasn’t into drugs, she was happy, and she loved us. She never would have willingly put my parents and me through the suffering we endured.”
And this is what took the happiness from his eyes, she realized.
He spent years searching for all these missing kids because his sister never came home. He’d been desperate to save that woman tonight because he couldn’t save his sister.
A lump formed in her throat, and it took everything she had not to cry for him, his parents, and this beautiful, lost girl. She couldn’t imagine losing one of her siblings; never mind, not knowing what became of them. They’d all driven her crazy at one time or another in her life, and she may or may not have contemplated choking a few of them, but she loved them all so much.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “No family should have to go through that.”
Relentless (Vampire Awakenings Book 11) Page 9
