He’d grabbed Fin by the throat, hauling him into the air. Even poisoned by silver, he’d still been stronger than the human. Gasping, legs swinging, Fin had gripped Byrne’s arm in an attempt to stop himself from choking.
“You said...you...wouldn’t...hurt me.”
Byrne had grunted. “I lied.”
But something in the human’s eyes had stopped him from squeezing the life out of him, even though he’d wanted to. Although sometimes even now he wished he had, but that was more to stop Fin’s blathering than anything else.
“As long as you don’t stop me, you can live.” Byrne had lowered Fin to the ground. Well, lowered, dropped, it was much the same thing.
“Stop you from what?” Fin had asked, crouching on the ground and rubbing his throat.
There’d been footsteps, and then a gasp as his tormentor had arrived and seen what Fin had done. Her Green eyes had focused on Fin, but he hadn’t been affected by whatever mind games she was trying to play.
“What have you done?!” she shrieked.
But Fin hadn’t been listening. “Stop you from what?” he’d asked Byrne again.
Byrne had smiled then, grinned for the first time in a hundred years. “From killing every single person here.”
“Yo, Byrne, did you hear a word I just said?”
Byrne turned in his seat and met the annoyed gaze of his human buddy. “No.”
He was still meant to be driving the cart, but Foxtrot hadn’t seemed to notice his inattention. The horse was still walking along, tail swishing, heading straight down the road. There wasn’t any other traffic, so it wasn’t like Byrne had to concentrate, thank goodness. But still, he shouldn’t let his mind wander so much.
“I didn’t think so. You had this feral grin on your face.” Fin leaned over the back of the cart’s seat, lowering his voice. “Were you thinking about your escape again? You always grin like that when you think about killing all those people.”
Byrne frowned.
“Killing who what now?” Hannah called from the back of the cart. She had Rena tucked in a sling around her, makeshift leather teat held in one hand.
“Can’t keep your fucking mouth shut, can you, Fin?” Byrne growled.
“What?” Fin shrugged. “I whispered.”
“And she’s the daughter of a first generation vampire. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“Gee. Relax. It’s all good.” Fin returned to the back of the cart again. “She won’t care that you killed a bunch of people.”
With a growl, Byrne turned his attention back to the road.
“I won’t care that he killed a bunch of people?”
“Fin!”
“What? You told her about your being held prisoner. She’ll understand.”
“I killed one person, Fin. One.” Hannah’s voice rose a little as she spoke. She was getting annoyed at the human, too.
Good.
“And I didn’t say you did the wrong thing,” Fin said. “I just didn’t think that you’d care that Byrne killed the people who held him captive for a century. Hypocrisy isn’t pretty.”
Byrne could literally hear the blasted human shrug.
“You said a bunch of humans,” Hannah replied. “And I care that I killed someone!”
Suddenly Byrne understood what Fin was doing. That sly little prick. He was trying to force Hannah into talking about what had happened to her, by using Byrne’s history as bait.
“I didn’t say that Byrne didn’t care that he killed a bunch of humans.”
“Well, they were Graceds,” Byrne said. He clicked Foxtrot along; at the back of the cart, the goat gave a bleat of protest at the slight increase in speed. “And no, I didn’t really care that I killed them. Still kinda happy about it.”
“Byrne!” Hannah cried, shocked.
“What? They held me captive for a century. They did horrible things to me, to say the least. I only wish I could have gone back in time and killed the fuckers who took me in the first place.”
Rena wailed. The conversation had distracted Hannah, and the baby still needed feeding.
“Here, give her to me,” Fin said and plucked the baby from Hannah’s grip. He cooed at the little girl and then all but wrested the teat from Hannah’s hand.
Hannah glowered at Fin. “Don’t touch me!”
“Sorry sweetie, but that rule doesn’t apply to me anymore.” The shit-eating grin was back. Byrne let out a whistle.
“Why you little—”
“Come on, ‘little’ is not an adjective that should be used to describe me, in any way shape or form.” Fin held the teat for Rena, who protested for a little longer, then realized that the food was there for the taking. The human clucked.
Byrne imagined he could see steam pouring from Hannah’s ears. He turned back to the roadway.
“How have you not killed him by now?” Hannah demanded.
He pursed his lips, pretended to think about it for a bit. “Sheer willpower.”
“Thanks. So it’s okay to talk about killing me — your savior, for both of you — but killing that stupid dick is something to be upset about?” Fin sounded like he was pouting.
“You’re annoying,” Hannah said.
“So? Randall was an idiot.”
“Just because he was an idiot doesn’t excuse me killing him.”
“But me being annoying is reason enough?”
“Argh!”
From the back of the cart came the noise of something being thrown. It had to be Hannah lobbing something at Fin. Fin was holding a baby, after all.
“If you’re going to throw clothing,” the human muttered, “make it your bra or underwear or something. Vomit covered shirts are a tad disgusting.”
“You never know when to give up, do you?” Byrne asked.
“What? She’s the one throwing her clothes at me. I’m only providing suggestions as to how that could be improved.”
“You are such a sleaze,” Hannah growled.
“I can’t help it if I’m that attractive to women. And some men too, I might add. I’m a panty-dropper for all genders.”
“And modest, too,” Byrne said with a nod.
“Modesty has nothing to do with it.”
“Can you just be serious for five minutes?” Hannah demanded.
“Sure.”
And then there was silence for an instant. It broke when Fin opened his bloody mouth again.
“Fine. You want serious? Yes, you killed that guy, but he was going to murder us both. You know he was. He betrayed your mother, and guess what? She wouldn’t have let the bastard live. And you were right, when you said that what you’d done to him was far kinder than what your mother would do. So in the end, you probably saved him a lot of pain. Imagine what Montrose is doing to those poor fuckers down in the cells. You think she’s going to be offering them puppies to cuddle? If they’re lucky, she won’t torture them until your mother returns.”
Hannah swallowed. “But I killed him.”
“If he hadn’t made a stupid decision to put his life on the line for personal ambition, then he would still be alive. But he didn’t. He made the choice to come after you.”
Byrne kept his eyes on the road, but he wished he could see Hannah’s face. It was a rare event indeed, when Fin spoke the truth, but when he did, he sure didn’t hold back. Byrne had needed to hear some hard truths himself once or twice. Fin may be a flirt and act like a bit of a ninnyhammer, but he was sharp. Even Byrne forgot that from time to time.
“And you’re both fucking vampires,” Fin went on. “What do you think happens when vamps piss each other off?
“They kill each other,” Hannah said softly.
Fin lifted Rena up and patted her on the back. “And what did he do to you?”
“He kidnapped me.”
“And do you think any other vampire, or were, would let him live after that?”
“No...”
Then Rena burped, and the smell of milk vomit wafted through the air.
Fin sighed. “I need a new shirt.”
Chapter 46
Pinton-Skarva Road
Hannah found herself watching as Fin pulled off his vomit-stained shirt. Her mouth went dry as she took in the hard planes of his shoulders and then, when he turned, her eyes trailed down his smooth abdominal muscles and to the golden line of hair that travelled to his waistband. His tattoo — all swirling lines — covered his whole arm and the top of his right pec.
Fin’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “It is a pretty good view, I admit it.”
Cheeks pinkening, Hannah quickly looked down at Rena. Fin had handed the baby back to her, and Rena had heaved a sigh and then shut her eyes, milk leaking out the side of her mouth. Hannah wiped it away with the shirt she’d thrown at Fin.
Up front, Byrne snorted derisively at Fin’s comment, and Hannah hoped the bear hadn’t heard her heartbeat accelerate, too. For the past five days, she’d tried to avoid the thought of being able to touch Fin, or possibly Byrne. The idea that there was someone she could have physical contact with and not have to worry about it, someone she could touch and not be terrified of losing herself, or of learning far too much about them...
It changed things.
She wished it didn’t, but it did. Before, she’d been able to ignore Fin’s charming, annoying self, because she knew nothing could ever come of it. Hannah could simply admire the pretty face that was emerging from the bruising, appreciate the way his muscles moved when he tended to tiny Rena, and enjoy his sense of humor, even if she pretended otherwise. But now there was possibility, and that scared her.
Sure, she’d had sex before; it had been awkward and messy but still kind of fun. Except the downside had been knowing everything about her partner. At the time, she’d been fifty, and living back in Skarva with her mother, testing her ability. She’d spotted the handsome human on the other side of the room and had been instantly smitten. He’d been wearing a gorgeous navy blue suit, with crimson waistcoat and snowy white cravat. His black hair had been swept back off his brow with a pomade that smelled like oranges. She’d been wearing a high-waisted pale green gown, but no corset — she’d made the gown herself, but hadn’t wanted to make the stays as well. At the time, it had been fashionable for young women to faint when speaking to handsome men, so when Evan — that had been his name — had clasped her hand to politely say hello, clearly unaware of the taboo of touching the duchess’ daughter, no one had commented when she’d passed out. Him being human, and only twenty-two, his memories had been easy enough for her to deal with. She’d known he thought her pretty, and that he wished to get to know her better.
Later, in her room, his life had unfolded before her eyes. He was a nice man, interested in securing himself a good future, but he wasn’t ambitious. And he hadn’t known who she was. That had been one of his greatest appeals, aside from the fact that he was so handsome he’d made her heart all fluttery.
She’d been naïve back then.
They’d started seeing each other secretly. Hannah knew her mother wouldn’t approve — more because Tatiana was overprotective, than because she’d have any real objections to Evan. He was human, of merchant stock, and had money. There was nothing to disapprove of, aside from his mortality, which might one day be fixed, given that he had lovely, chocolate Brown eyes. Every time they touched, she’d absorbed the new memories he’d made since their last meeting. It had been flattering at first. And heady. Evan thought her beautiful, smart, the most wonderful woman around. He didn’t necessarily tell her these things; oh, he’d flatter her, but he played it cool. He hadn’t wanted to come across as too needy. Too bad for him that she knew what he really thought about her; how much he treasured the stolen kisses and cuddles.
She’d thought him handsome, clever and funny. But looking back, she wasn’t sure how much of her infatuation had been caused by knowing how he viewed her. Knowing someone was half in love with you changed how you felt about them.
After a month, they progressed their relationship, moving on from stolen caresses, cuddles, or kisses. Hidden in one of the rooms at the Duchess of Roses’ estate, with her mother absent, Hannah and Evan had made love. She already knew about the mechanics of it, but it hadn’t quite lived up to her expectations. But then, whose first time really did? She’d seen enough in people’s memories to understand that much.
But afterward, Evan had lied to her.
He’d told her she was his first lover, and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Oh, she knew he’d wanted to marry her then, but Hannah had known for a fact that he hadn’t been a virgin. When Evan was fifteen, he’d had sex with the local barmaid. And when he was sixteen, the seamstress’ daughter. In fact, he’d slept with a new girl from his town almost every other year. He’d date them for a while, but he never promised them anything more, and he liked to think they’d understood. But Hannah had seen his memories and the looks on the girls’ faces, and she didn’t think they had.
To say Hannah hadn’t cared when she’d discovered his...proclivity...would be a lie. Having the memory of all those other times with other girls flash through her mind had caused jealousy to rear its ugly head. She knew exactly how soft their skin was, how sweet they smelled, but also that he hadn’t felt the same way about those other girls as he did with Hannah. And so she’d told herself to move past it. She was the woman he was falling in love with, not that barmaid with the generous bosom, or the seamstress’ daughter with the large hips, or the squire’s daughter with the rounded butt. But it didn’t help that each one of those girls had something that Hannah was all too aware she was lacking.
Curves.
Evan hadn’t known about her ability, just that she was ‘delicate’, and so she hadn’t been able to call him on his lies. Because how else could she have known? He’d fumbled and pretended to not really know what he was doing when they’d first made love, and she’d thought that kind of sweet. He quickly dropped the act, though, the longer they dated, growing more confident. But as one month turned into two, Hannah witnessed his infatuation with her changing.
In her room at night, she’d see how he found her a little too skinny when he clasped her waist, or how her breasts didn’t overflow his hands when he caressed them. She’d see his memories, as he compared her to his other lovers: how she didn’t please him like the other girls had. But those other girls had all been slightly desperate, willing to do whatever they could to keep him. They’d seen him as their way to advance in the world, and he’d seen them as fun. So whenever he’d asked them to do something, they had generally done it. Or he’d leave them.
That’s why he’d left so many broken hearts behind.
With Hannah, he didn’t dare do that, and she could see the lack of power bothered him. Soon, it was obvious that she was physically much stronger than him, too. Once, he’d wanted to play-wrestle with her, and she hadn’t known she should pretend to be weak to please him. She’d won. Easily. He was human, she was a vampire; she hadn’t been able to understand how he’d been foolish enough to think that it would be an even match, even if he was male and she female.
That memory in particular had burned. His pride had been stung, even though he never admitted it to her, and had laughed the incident away. In person, Evan was always kind and caring and solicitous. He never said a bad word to her, acted loving and like she’d hung the moon herself. But she knew what he thought, and it ate at her. Nibbled away her self-confidence, until she hadn’t known what to do. She didn’t want to be like the other girls, the ones who’d made him happy until they didn’t. She wanted to be Hannah. And it was then she realized she could never be Hannah with him: the vampire daughter of Tatiana Romanov, a girl who couldn’t touch people or things.
Evan had grown suspicious of why she wore the same three dresses over and over. He’d thought she might be a little simple-minded or eccentric, since h
er mother clearly had the money to dress her well. He picked apart her behavior in his mind, until she grew so paranoid her mother stepped in.
And things never ended well when the Deadly Duchess got involved.
Evan had survived, but only because Hannah had ended their relationship. She didn’t think he’d minded too much in the end, especially when he found himself the focus of her mother’s attention. Within a year, he’d married a rich human aristo woman who had an abundant chest, large hips and generous behind, and they’d produced several offspring. Now, now he was just bones in the dirt.
Hannah sighed. Wasn’t that just like her life? Sad. The only man she’d ever half-fallen in love with was long dead, and she was still alone. Alone and pondering a man who was completely wrong for her.
She studied Fin out of the corner of her eyes, hoping not to get caught — the bastard always seemed to know when she was staring. Mentally she ticked off the pros and cons of a relationship with him:
Pros
He had a mental shield
He was nice to her
He was clever, even though he pretended otherwise
He was very pretty handsome
He had nice straight teeth
He was good with babies
He was funny
He had soft lips
Cons
He talked way too much
He could be really annoying
He broke too easily
He snored
His favorite topic of conversation was himself
He currently had a beard
He might not actually like her
Hrm. Should the beard go in the pro column? She’d have a think on it.
What are you doing?
Are you an idiot? Maybe you didn’t pay attention to the last item in the cons section?
Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2) Page 22
