Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2)

by Amanda Pillar

  “A moron?”

  “Yes. Just accept that fact that I wouldn’t hand you over to be killed by those two assholes.”

  A grin flashed across his face, transforming the bruised and beaten visage into something stunning. “Aww, you like me.”

  She caught her breath. Couldn’t help it. Now she knew why all those women had fallen into his arms. That smile...it should be illegal. Then she glowered at him. The sly bastard knew what his effect was on women, and he was just trying to distract her. Just because she hadn’t had much to do with people, it didn’t make her ignorant.

  “You and Byrne are my friends.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Most women like me.”

  She ground her teeth. “This isn’t time for jokes.”

  “You’re right. And Hannah, I feel I should be honest with you.” His Hazel eyes had a glint in them, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was about to be serious or would continue teasing her.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  “I touched you. When you were sleeping.”

  “You what?”

  Chapter 34

  Skarva City

  Byrne headed back into town to find lodging in a were-friendly establishment. It wasn’t that Skarva was any less tolerant of weres than any other vampire-controlled city, but he liked to rest his bones somewhere where he didn’t have to worry about a silver knife finding its way into his back simply because of what he was. Plus, the bear part of his nature preferred to be amongst other weres, when possible. He liked Fin, but the human just couldn’t understand what it was like to be a were, especially a bear trapped in a human skin at the start of spring.

  He’d wrapped Rena in a sling across his chest, and the cub was snuffling as she slept against his torso. He rubbed her back, then focused on getting the two of them, Baldy and the pain-in-the-ass goat to an inn. If he remembered correctly, there was a place just off the main road that catered to all kinds of weres. Sure, wolves and cats had trouble getting along at times, but they could do when needed.

  Keeping the pace slow, he went back through the market and past the peddler who’d tried to manhandle Hannah. He ignored the man, and the stare that was leveled at the back of his head. Turning left down Market Place — which, funnily enough, didn’t have a street market on it — he arrived at the inn. Its iron sign was swinging in the gentle breeze, and the scents of piss, vomit, cooking stew, coal, and about a million other things he preferred not to think about, reached him.

  Cities. They always were an assault on the senses.

  The sign read ‘The Grumpy Bear Inn.’ Painted next to the name, a growling bear held a tankard of ale in a clawed grip. He’d forgotten about that. Ah well, too late now to take offense. He pulled his cart to a stop out the front, and a stable boy ran forward to take the reins.

  “If you keep it here, there’ll be a coin in it for you,” Byrne said. The little lad — or girl, it was hard to tell — was a bit grimy, but otherwise healthy, and nodded with a gap-toothed smile.

  Climbing down, Byrne avoided getting too close to the poor horse. Baldy still wasn’t happy with him. It’d take time.

  At the entrance, he had to duck to get under the doorframe. The door swung shut behind him, and the taproom beyond was dim and smoky, but the stench of vomit and piss didn’t extend to within the walls. Instead, there was the smell of cigars, ale and crushed herbs; it was almost pleasant. It was also a sign they were used to catering to weres, whose senses were so much more acute than a human’s.

  Only two people occupied the room: a woman with white-blonde hair and a man with striped blond and brown hair, which was half-covered by a cap. It being midday, the lack of clientele wasn’t surprising. Weres were more nocturnal, like their vampire cousins. Not that many people admitted that vampires and weres were related in any way.

  Byrne placed his hands on the scarred wooden surface of the bar, and leaned forward a little, careful of the sleeping cub. A woman emerged from the kitchen area, pushing through two half-sized doors that swung shut behind her. She had a dishrag in her hands, and was well over six foot in height, with short brown hair cut into a bob, and yellow eyes that gleamed from her olive skinned face. She looked only about twenty, but that meant nothing.

  Sniffing the air discreetly, Byrne frowned as he tried to work out her species. There were other scents in the air: large cat, something vaguely wolf-like, and bear. That would be the other patrons in the taproom and himself. He needed a bath.

  “What can I do for you?” the woman asked. She was dressed in a sturdy gown of an intermediate shade of brown, with a stained apron over the top.

  “Looking for a room for myself and another, and stabling for my horse and a goat.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow, then set the dishrag down on the bar between them. “Did you say a goat?”

  Byrne nodded.

  She pursed her lips. “Odd traveling companion for a bear.”

  He waved a hand down at the cub strapped to his chest. The woman didn’t seem to mind that the child was clearly not his own — the stark skin-color difference made it obvious. She hadn’t even seen the eye-color variance yet; if weres tended to have non-were kids, which was crazy rare, they were usually Brown-eyed. Not that most weres understood what the eye colors meant; that’s just how things worked.

  But then, most weres didn’t have the unfortunate experience of being kidnapped and held by an insane group of Graced supremacists for a hundred years, either.

  “Ahhh, I see,” she said, her expression warming. Weres loved kids. She smiled, bright and toothy, and there was happiness to it, not threat. “Stuck on cub-sitting duty?”

  “Not necessarily a bad thing,” Byrne said with a half-smile.

  “Too true. We have a double room if that will suit? And I’ll make sure the animals are looked after properly. Are they out the front?”

  Byrne nodded. “How much?”

  They haggled for a few moments, since it was expected. Byrne would have paid more for the rooms, but he knew the deal. When both were satisfied that they’d reached a decent bargain, the woman stretched her hand out. “Name’s Milly, I own the place. Bought it about five years ago.”

  He took the offered palm and shook it. “Byrne.”

  “Nice to meet another bear; they’re not usually traveling this time of year.”

  He grinned fully this time. “Most have better sense than I do.”

  Milly rumbled a laugh and yelled for one of the stable lads, giving him instructions for the horse and goat. “Take a seat. You can have a drink while I get the room sorted.”

  Byrne nodded and sat in one of two large leather chairs by the fire, which was just a pile of smoldering embers. The seats looked sturdy enough to hold him — few did — and the dark brown leather creaked as he lowered himself down. A small wooden table had been placed between the chairs, and Milly set a tankard of ale on it before heading back to the bar.

  Leaning his head against the chair back, he began absently rubbing Rena’s tiny body, his hand dwarfing the infant. She turned her face to the side and let out a contented sigh. She’d probably wake up soon and then scream down the inn in her demand for food and probably a clean diaper. But at least Byrne rather than Hannah was on hand for her. While the vampire had gotten much better at looking after the cub, her diaper-tying skills still left much to be desired. Byrne had lost a few shirts to Rena’s ‘accidents.’

  “Hello, Byrne.”

  A woman took the empty seat opposite him and crossed her legs, which were clad in tight-fitting tan trousers, overlaid by a strange half-dress like a tunic, made of some fine material. Her skin was whiter than snow, and she had long pale hair that was almost colorless, except for the woven string, beads and bones that decorated the tresses. Then there were the dyed strands, which were blue and green.

  She had Pink eyes.

  Byrne hadn’t ever met an albino before, but it made sense they had
to exist. Back when he’d been a cub, they’d been killed on sight. Had been for centuries before that. Only his grandfather had argued against the practice. No one had said why they had to die, of course; the reason had been forgotten due to the enforced memory wipe about the Graced. But Byrne knew about the Graced now. And anyone who had eyes other than Brown, yellow and purple — anyone like this woman, like the albinos — were Graced. And the Graced were more dangerous than anyone he knew.

  Apart from Hannah.

  And Rena.

  And Fin.

  Fine, there were a few exceptions. But the fact was, until now he’d always assumed his kind couldn’t give birth to a Graced. Yet here was proof they could. Because the woman had the faint smell of a were.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t met,” Byrne said, instinctively clenching his hands into fists.

  The were-Graced grinned, and he realized she was striking. Not beautiful, not pretty, but with an appeal that was utterly unique.

  “Silly me!” She clapped her hands and Rena made a noise of protest at the sound. The woman looked abashed. “Of course we haven’t met,” she said, her voice quieter. “Not yet. But we have now, so it’s all good.”

  “Uh, it is?” Byrne was confused, but then, that wasn’t unsurprising. He had no idea what Pink eyes meant when it came to psychic talents. But to meet her, and Hannah — two people with eye colors that weren’t on the normal Graced list — so close together? He didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “It is a good thing. Trust me. I know pretty much everything. Can I hold Rena?”

  He hadn’t mentioned the baby’s name since entering the inn. And he had a mental shield, so she shouldn’t have been able to pluck the cub’s name from his mind.

  “I won’t hurt her. I like children. I just gained a kid sister-in-law, I’ll have you know. She’s not a baby, not anymore, of course, but she’s still much younger than me. Then again, that isn’t particularly hard.” She tapped her chin. “But she has the most remarkable eyes. As does my brother’s fiancé.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” Byrne said. This woman was clearly not all there...

  “It’s Ralia, but you can call me Lia. We’re going to be friends, you and I. Plus, you already know my brother, so we’re practically related.”

  “I, uh—”

  “Come now, let me have a quick cuddle with her. You don’t have much time before you need to go and rescue Hannah and Fin.”

  Byrne handed Rena over; he had no idea what else to do. She didn’t seem like the kind of person to hurt a cub, despite her dizzying chatter. Although, to be fair, he doubted her discourse was meaningless. He just didn’t understand it.

  “Wait — I have to rescue Hannah and Fin?” Byrne was half out of his seat.

  She flicked him a glance. “Sit down.”

  He sat.

  Lia hugged Rena close to her chest. She was muttering quietly to the baby, and Byrne had trouble making out the words, even with his hearing. But the smell of almost-wolf was stronger now. The albino must have been born to werewolf parents.

  “Hannah and Fin?” he asked again, when he realized Lia was ignoring him.

  “Oh yes, they’ll need saving.” She shot him a quick smile, then cooed at the cub.

  “How do you know all this?” Byrne demanded, moving forward to stand. If his friends were in trouble—

  Apprehensively Lia looked to the left and right, before tapping the skin just below her right eye. “You know what most are not meant to know, Byrne.” Her voice was so quiet he had to lean forward and strain to make out the words. “I know about things before they happen. I know that you’ll find your mate sooner than you think; that it was my brother who teased you in the past about the ‘psychic sense of smell’ that later weres possess. I know that Fin and Hannah are in trouble, but they can hold their own for now. I know that they need the time they have; it’s important you don’t rescue them too soon, or Fin’s future will be at risk. And I know that Rena will have a bright life, brief though it will be.”

  Byrne’s stomach dropped to somewhere underneath his feet. She was a foreseer. That’s what she was saying.

  But his mind went to the baby she was holding. “Rena is going to die young?”

  “She’s got the lifespan of a human. She won’t be able to be Chosen or Bitten, you know that.”

  Relief poured through him, and it was in that moment he realized he loved the little cub, like she was a member of his own family. He clenched his jaw. A week, that’s all it had taken for him to adopt the cub into his life. A hundred years of trying not to care about anything, and he’d gone and blown it in seven days.

  “Now, we have a couple of hours before you need to get moving,” Lia said. “And I need to tell you a few things.”

  Chapter 35

  Skarva City

  “Wow, that sounded creepier than I meant it to,” Fin said.

  “You touched me?” Hannah blurted, apparently ignoring his comment. She jerked back from him, almost falling on her butt in her haste.

  “You were out cold. I didn’t know how to wake you up. I’d tried shouting, and talking to you, but I didn’t have any other options.” Fin gave an awkward half-shrug.

  He didn’t need to analyze why he’d told Hannah about the touch. He’d told her because he didn’t want her to keep thinking that he was some kind of hero, that he was trying to save her when he was just as flawed as anyone else. More so. He could handle it if she admired him for his pretty face, but that was different to liking him for his personality. He wasn’t worth it.

  “But, I don’t have any of your memories,” Hannah said. Her arms were hanging loose by her sides, her body slack with surprise.

  “Memories?” Fin asked before he could help himself. Not five minutes earlier he’d said she could keep her ability a secret. Wasn’t he fantastic at keeping his word?

  Hannah just blinked.

  “Memories,” he said again, more to himself. It all made sense. He stared at her in wonder and horror. She could absorb memories. The single most important thing that made a person who they were; their history. Even more intimate than being able to read someone’s thoughts. No wonder she avoided touching people, and why she gave Byrne such a wide berth in particular. She could guess how old he was; and the older the were or vampire, the more memories there were to take in. And obviously the transfer left her vulnerable. How many lives had she lived, while she’d been stuck in her solitary existence?

  “Which hand did you touch me with?” she asked.

  “Uh, my right?” He held up the offending palm. In the dim light, his stitches stood out next to the faint lines of his tattoo. “And I didn’t touch you for long. Just a quick pat to your face.” He was going to say cheek, but didn’t want her to think he’d groped her ass.

  She made a funny sound, like a meep. “Your tattooed hand!”

  “Yes? Is that bad?” He re-crossed his arms, ignoring the pain from his ribs. He deserved a little discomfort.

  “They were inked by someone else; that means their memories would be impressed into your skin, too.”

  “You’d pick up the memories of my tattoo artists as well?”

  That sounded — well, horrible, actually.

  She rubbed a hand over her face. “Mother calls it clairvoyance.”

  “Clairvoyance?” he tried out the word. It tasted unfamiliar on his tongue, which was unusual. Fin could pick up languages easier than breathing; he probably had as many foreign words crammed into his skull as Hannah did memories. He’d travelled a lot in his short life. Easy to do when you were running away from your past.

  “Why would your memories not have been transferred? It doesn’t make sense.” Hannah paced the cell, but since it was kind of small, she could only walk a few steps before having to turn back and head in the opposite direction.

  “Have you been able to pick up on memories from more than one person at a time before?”r />
  She nodded. “The only person I can’t absorb memories from is Mother.”

  Lucky for Hannah. Her mother didn’t sound like the nicest lady.

  “Maybe...” Fin considered for a moment. “I have a natural mental shield. I hear it’s pretty rare. That could be what’s protecting me.” He couldn’t help the fact that it sounded like he was bragging. He was.

  Something lit up in her dark eyes. “You do?”

  Fin squirmed; he wasn’t entirely sure he liked the gleam in her gaze. “Yes?” Argh. He hadn’t meant it to sound like a question. But Hannah was doing her intense thing, and it always got him a bit unnerved.

  He wasn’t going to think of what it would be like if they were together...intimately. All that concentration on him.

  No. Don’t think like that. That is bad, he told himself. You’re disgusting, his mind said rather sternly. She’s vulnerable.

  Fin agreed.

  She took a couple of steps forward and then halted in front of the mattress. “Touch me!”

  Back in the cart, when he’d first heard her voice — that sexy rusty sound — he’d wished her to say those words to him, preferably while her legs were wrapped around his torso. But he hadn’t gotten to know her then; to admire her inner strength, her resolve and her commitment to the abandoned baby she’d found. Hannah wasn’t just a random woman he wanted to spend a night with.

  Plus, women like Hannah didn’t mess around with men like him.

  “Look, we don’t know if my shield will be enough,” he said. “I could have just gotten lucky the last time.”

  If he’d known that she absorbed a person’s memories, he probably wouldn't have touched her in the first place, even to help her. He didn’t want her to know everything about him. He didn’t want anyone to have that kind of knowledge about him as a person. Some secrets were best left untouched.

  “What can it hurt?” Hannah squatted on her heels and leaned forward, as if to grab his leg.

  “I don’t want to.” He pulled his limbs closer to him, the mattress a barrier between his body and hers. She wouldn’t risk touching that.