Wraith's Awakening (Para-Ops)

by DePaul, Virna

  I gulp. “Is that the way to kill you?”

  “One way.”

  “What would they have done to me?” I whisper.

  He glances at me and starts to walk away, but I reach out, grabbing his arm, barely even noticing the small jolt of pain it brings. “Answer me,” I snap. _

  He looks pointedly at my grip on his arm and I release him.

  “Please,” I add.

  He closes his eyes in obvious frustration, then throws up his hands when he opens them. “They wouldn't have bothered trying to kill you, okay? They believe your kind can't be killed. But they know you can hurt. A lot. And if they didn't have the stomach to do it to you themselves, they'd have turned you in to someone who does.”

  “Would you have let them?”

  “What am I, your protector all of a sudden?”

  Yes, I want to shout, but I don't.

  “Would you?” I persist.

  “Assuming I wasn't dead myself?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don't know. I can hurt too, you know.”

  I nod. Again, I assume he's being honest and that he told me the truth about. . . well. . . having to tell the truth.

  “Would you have tried to stop them if they'd attacked me?” he counters.

  I swallow hard. Raising my chin, I say, “I don't know. I'd like to think so.”

  A strange look flickers across his face. “Then you have a lot to learn yet, wraith. Now let's go. We're almost there.”

  True to his word, we walk less than three more blocks before he climbs the stairs to a small brick brownstone with wrought iron planters and shutters with matching scrolled hardware. He knocks on the door and almost immediately a female voice speaks out of a small speaker beside him.

  “Who's the wraith?” the female snaps.

  Colt doesn't even glance at me. “She's just awakened. I need to rest but we'll be gone in the morning.”

  “Do you have-?”

  Now Colt glances at me, his displeasure evident. “Yes.”

  A buzzer sounds, releasing the lock on the gate. He motions me inside.

  I hesitate. “She's human?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet, you trust her?”

  “I told you, I trust her much as I trust anyone, especially a human. Which isn't much.”

  “Then why-?”

  “She needs me. Right now, we need her. Are you coming or not, doll?”

  I glance around me. The neighborhood street looks deserted, but in the distance I see several forms walking toward us on the sidewalk. I remember the looks on those people's faces when they pointed at us. He'd been right. They'd wanted to hurt me. I'd seen it in their eyes. I'd felt it emanating from them. If Colt hadn't been with me, flashing his pearly whites and his red eyes, they'd have been on me.

  He'd stopped them.

  So I trust him.

  Not completely, but enough to get off the streets.

  “Smart,” he says blank-faced, then holds the door wider.

  I raise a brow and step past him and inside. “Well, we'll find out soon enough.”

  *****

  Colt's “friend” looks like a cross between Orphan Annie and Jessica Rabbit.

  From the neck up? Orphan Annie all the way: freckles, orange 'fro, guileless brown eyes.

  From the neck down? Va-va-va-voom. She is dressed to showcase her assets, too. A ribbed tank top with a low neckline showing lots of cleavage. Tight, clingy material hugging a nipped waist and rounded hips. Taut, muscled calves in four-inch stiletto heels. Despite all that, the way she snaps her gum and blows a bubble makes her seem far more orphan than rabbit.

  I turn to Colt with raised brows, not bothering to hide my “are you shitting me?” expression.

  He's ignoring me. He pulls something from inside his jacket and passes it covertly to Annie-Jessica-I mentally dub her A.J. for short.

  Although I strain my eyes, I can't make out what it is.

  Great, I think.

  I've placed my safety in the hands of a vampire pusher. My thoughts are confirmed by the covetous look that comes over A.J.'s expression.

  “They're not drugs,” Colt drawls. “Not the kind you're thinking, anyway.”

  A.J. doesn't bother waiting to hear what I'll say. Turning, she strides from the room. Seconds later, a door slams shut.

  A girl after my own heart. All I say, however, is “Lovely.”

  I hear voices coming from behind the closed door. Female and male. I glance at Colt, wondering if he'll be jealous. He looks completely indifferent to the fact that A.J. is entertaining.

  “What are we-” I manage, just as the door opens again.

  A man walks into the room.

  He's young.

  He's gorgeous.

  When he passes by me, our gazes meet and I feel a shiver sweep through me. For the first time since waking up, it feels almost like. . . pleasure? Peace?

  But before I can study the feeling too closely, he's past me and walking through the door.

  “Wait-” I murmur.

  “Wait!” A.J. calls from behind me.

  The man turns.

  “C, wait.” A.J. throws herself into the man's arms. He returns her embrace, looking at me over her shoulder, then pulls back.

  “Be careful. I don't trust the Army one bit. . .”

  He chucks her chin. “I'll be saving lives-”

  “Just make sure you save yourself first.”

  He nods. He gives me one final look-there is an odd expression in his eyes, something like curiosity or confusion, but then it's gone-and then he leaves.

  A.J. stands there looking after him before Colt clears his throat.

  She jolts. Glances at us. Then shakes her head as tears fill her eyes. “I hate where this world is going.”

  Colt just shrugs. “That makes both of us.”

  Whirling around, A.J. returns to her room and shuts us out again.

  For a second, I want to go after her friend, but I can't remember why. Or why I'd called out for him to wait in the first place. I wonder what the C stands for. What his name is. But I'm suddenly weary. I want to lie down. Close my eyes. I turn to the vampire.

  “Do you think A.J. would mind if I take a hot shower?”

  “A.J. Annie Jessica.” He snorts and shakes his head. “You've got quite a mind for pop culture. Broadway. Cartoons. And no, I don't think she'll mind. A hot shower won't do much to warm you up, however.”

  I sigh and go in search for the bathroom. “I didn't think otherwise.” But I had. I was tired of being cold. Of being hungry but not being able to satisfy that hunger. I wonder if I have the fighting spirit after all.

  As I pass the kitchen, I catch sight of a butcher-block knife holder. I veer toward it. In a flash, Colt is there, blocking me.

  For someone too weak to teleport, he had moved with inhuman speed.

  Why?

  “I wasn't going to hurt myself,” I say.

  “You couldn't if you tried.”

  “Then why?” Narrowing my eyes, I try to see around him. Had I missed something? Was he trying to hide something behind him?

  But he doesn't budge. “It didn't seem to hurt you when I touched you at first. Then after you tried slicing your wrists with that rock-”

  I suddenly don't care. “I'd like those kitchen shears, please,” I say quietly.

  He studies me for several seconds, reaches behind him, and unerringly pulls out the kitchen shears. He hands them to me, handle first.

  So polite, I think.

  “I try,” he says.

  Nodding, I turn. My steps are slow. Again, weary.

  I want to cry, but no tears form.

  Locking myself in the bathroom strikes me as cowardly but I'm relieved to be alone. I glance down at the tee and shorts that Jonah had given me and wonder where he is. If Candy is with him. If they're alive. My joints feel stiff as I strip, being sure to lock the door first. I know it's a useless precaution. If Colt or even A.J. want to attack me while I'
m naked and unaware, I know a flimsy hollow-core door and cheap lock won't stop them. But the soft snick of the lock gives me some sense of comfort. At that moment, it's just me inside the room.

  Who am I? I cry inside.

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. The white hair is still a shock to my system. I look old, older than my unlined skin suggests. Suddenly furious, I snatch up the scissors Colt gave me. Soon, strands of hair fall to the worn linoleum floor. I keep going until my hair stands out in short tufts around my head, reminiscent of Billy Idol.

  The lyrics echo through my head.

  Hey little sister what have you done? Hey little sister who's the only one? Hey little sister who's your superman? Hey little sister who's the one you want? Hey little sister shot gun!

  It's a nice day to start again. It's a nice day for a white wedding.

  It's a nice day to start again.

  I throw the scissors at the mirror and they bounce off and ricochet back at me. I don't flinch. My hands clench and I see my ugly scowl.

  Song lyrics! I can remember fucking song lyrics. Movies. Roger Rabbit characters and little singing orphans. But not my own name.

  Several thumps come from outside the bathroom, and I close my eyes and try to pull myself together. When I open them, I reason that Billy Idol hair ain't so bad, but maybe some color will do me good.

  I rifle unapologetically through the bottom cabinet in the bathroom, hoping to find hair products. Vindicated, I lift up a box of hair dye. Sunset red.

  A.J. actually colors her hair that god-awful color.

  White seems pretty nice all of a sudden.

  Returning the package to the sink, I shower, cursing when Colt turns out to be right.

  Despite cranking the shower to hotter than hell, the water is insufficient to warm me, not even for a few seconds. And I discover something else. Either A.J. uses extremely weak product or I've started to lose my sense of smell.

  Since it fits right in with everything else that's happened up to now, I'm pretty sure it's the latter. My existence, the one that started out so narrow earlier in the day, is narrowing further. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, I whip back the shower curtain and step, dripping, onto the bathroom floor. I grab a towel to dry off, yank on my clothes, and wonder what else I will lose as the day continues.

  I pray it won't be my mind.

  Gingerly, quietly, I open the bathroom door just a crack. I hold my breath- figuratively, of course-and strain my ears for any sound.

  Nothing.

  I suppose A.J. is still locked in her room getting high on whatever the vampire gave her, and heaven only knows what Colt is doing. My eyes round as the thought occurs to me-what if he left me here?

  Jerking open the door, I run out to the living room. He's not there. Not in the kitchen either. I run to the sliding glass door and look out the back. I see a small brick patio and overgrown garden but no vampire. I feel a crushing weight on my chest, a splintering ache in my head, and head in the direction A.J. had gone. If he was fucking around with her, she might see something she didn't want to, but she needed to know if he'd left her. If he had. . .

  “She's not high. I'm not fucking her. And I'm still here, wraith.”

  I freeze and close my eyes.

  His voice continues to drift from the direction I'd been headed and I follow the sound.

  “You're tendency toward the dramatic, as entertaining as it can be, is likely to lead you to trouble. As I have no wish for more trouble, you need to curb your impulses.”

  He's hunkered down in a big chair in a darkened room, with lots of lit candles around him. It's evident from the crystals, incense, and doo-dads around him that A. J. is into metaphysical shit.

  “Shit?” he echoes with a raised brow.

  I press my lips together. “This is all shitty in my book.”

  He closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

  I wander in closer to him, noting that my own weariness seems to be stamped on his face. “How long will it take you to get your strength back? Enough to teleport, I mean?”

  “A few hours,” he murmurs.

  “Is she going to come out here?”

  “Unlikely.”

  I plop down Indian-style on the carpeting and stare at him.

  A crinkle appears between his brows.

  “Why won't she come out?”

  He opens his eyes and glares at me, which shuts me up. “I know you have many questions. I'll answer what I can. Right now, can we just rest? A few minutes of silence. Please.”

  For all his manners, the word please doesn't seem like it comes from him easily. I nod my head. When he closes his eyes again, I lay back, curling on my side with my hands under my cheek. I'm still cold, still hungry, but the sensations are distant. I finally close my eyes.

  To sleep, perchance to dream.

  And then what?

  My mouth twists into a bitter smile.

  Yep, Shakespeare had it right. There's the rub.

  But oddly enough, when I close my eyes, despite how exhausted I am, I don't fall asleep. I don't dream. I can't keep my mind on Shakespeare, even though I recall enough lines from Hamlet and A Winter's Tale to know I'm well read.

  I don't even think of Colt.

  Instead, I remember A.J.'s friend. The one she called C. The one she told to be careful because she didn't trust the Army. And for one second, I remember why I'd called out to him.

  But then it's gone again.

  THE END

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you've enjoyed this short story about Wraith. Wraith's story continues in Chosen By Blood, Chosen By Fate and Chosen By Sin, Books 1 through 3 of the Para-Ops Novels. Thanks so much for reading this novella! Virna DePaul

  ADDITIONAL TITLES

  If you would like to read additional books by Virna DePaul, you can find out more about the following titles:

  Paranormal Romantic Suspense:

  Wraith's Awakening (A Prequel Novella To The Para-Ops Series)

  Chosen By Blood (A Para-Ops Novel, Book 1)

  Chosen By Fate (A Para-Ops Novel, Book 2)

  Chosen By Sin (A Para-Ops Novel, Book 3)

  Contemporary Romantic Suspense:

  Dangerous To Her (Harlequin Romantic Suspense)

  It Started That Night (HRS)

  Deadly Charade (HRS)

  Shades Of Desire (HQN: Special Investigations Group, Book 1)

  Shades Of Temptation (HQN: SIG, Book 2)

  Shades Of Passion (HQN: SIG, Book 3)

  Contemporary Romance:

  Bedding The Wrong Brother (A Dalton Brothers Novel, Book 1)

  Novellas:

  A Vampire's Salvation (Loveswept)

  Wild For Mr. Wrong

  Molly Wants A Hero (part of the Love Bites Anthology with Lori Foster, HQN)

  Erotic Novellas:

  Arrested By Love (Loveswept)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Virna DePaul is a former criminal prosecutor and now National Bestselling Author of romantic suspense (Harlequin) and paranormal romance (Para-Ops series and new series with Random House).

  CONTACT VIRNA HERE

  Website: www.virnadepaul.com (Sign up for my monthly newsletter for updates and contests!)

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/virnadepaul

  Email: virna@virnadepaul.com

  Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/booksthatrock

  EXCERPT OF CHOSEN BY BLOOD (BOOK 1)

  A firm knock interrupted them. Muscles pumped as if for battle, Knox slowly stood. He didn't turn, not even when Mahone called for his visitor to come in.

  “I came as soon as I-”

  It didn't matter that he was in Mahone's office, that Mahone was watching him, or that he and Mahone had just been discussing something as important as his clan. He hadn't been in the same room with her in years, but his body's reaction to her presence was the same as it always was: instantaneous. Her scent hit him like a sledgehammer and was followed by a wave of lo
nging so intense it almost felled him. His skin prickled and his fangs ached as he fought to keep them sheathed. He couldn't stop the hardening of his dick, however, or the urge he had to grab her and transport her to the Dome. To his bed. To someplace where duty and time dissolved, and he could just be with her.

  She didn't gasp or take a breath. Her words simply stopped. Something rare crystallized inside him.

  Had she gotten over him? Had she found someone else? Another emotion-pure, undiluted rage-filled him at the thought of her with another. It made everything else, every other emotion he'd ever felt, seem innocuous. Made him want to rip off his clothes-the luxurious symbols of civility that he normally loved-and make her see him as he truly was-primal, lethal, and fucking ready to prove to her that she was his, once and for all. Instead, he took a deep breath and willed himself to calm. He opened his mind. Just a hair. Just enough to sense the desire buried beneath her resolve. Enough to dismiss that foreign emotion of fear and tamp down his rage.

  When he was assured of his control, Knox slowly turned and faced the human female he'd wanted to bite from the moment he'd seen her. She was dressed conservatively in a white oxford shirt and navy blue pants, her auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Taller than most females, she was neither delicate nor bulky. While most would consider her average in looks and sex appeal, Knox saw what most didn't.

  He saw the strength in her supple body.

  He saw her courage, her compassion, and her integrity.

  And at that moment, he saw the fiery sensuality that flared in her eyes before she banked it and stared at him with a practiced look of mild curiosity.

  Felicia had always tried to hide her attraction to him, but she'd always failed. Nevertheless, he'd abided by her wishes and kept his distance. But not anymore.