Irresistible (Neighbor from Hell Book 11)

by R. L. Mathewson

  Ethan sighed heavily as he sat on the room’s only bed and ran his fingers through his unruly shoulder-length hair. “Why don’t you stay here and read?”

  “I don’t want to disturb you, Father,” Trace said, wishing he’d lit a candle since he couldn’t tell from the dim light given off from the small fire in the hearth if his father was still angry.

  “Trace,” his father said in a warning tone, “tell me that you’re not going to see her after what happened yesterday.”

  “No, Father,” he said, lying to his father for the first time in his life, but he didn’t have a choice. If he’d listened to her in the first place, no one would have known that they’d been spending time together. He’d been too stubborn to listen and now, thanks to him, she was in real trouble.

  “Why do I have a feeling that you’re lying to me?” his father asked warily as he pulled his breeches on.

  “I’m not,” Trace said weakly, shifting his gaze to the dirt floor, because looking his father in his eye while he lied made him feel sick to his stomach.

  “We need to talk,” his father announced after a short pause, making Trace’s eyes shoot up at the all too familiar announcement.

  “But we’ve only been here four weeks, Father. You promised we’d be able to stay longer this time,” he pointed out almost desperately because he didn’t want to leave the only friend he’d ever had.

  While living with his father was wonderful, it was also very lonely. For the first fourteen years of his life, his father had taken him all over Europe desperate to keep him safe. He’d searched everywhere for answers, taking Trace with him as he did his best to keep Trace’s existence a secret. When Trace was six years old, weak, sick, and barely bigger than a toddler his father became desperate to save the child that his wife had so desperately wanted and did something no other vampire would have dared.

  He’d kidnapped a priest who’d sworn allegiance to the Sentinels, the group of altered humans placed on earth to keep humans safe from vampires, demons, and shifters. With one move, his father had signed his own death warrant, but he hadn’t cared. The only thing that mattered to Ethan was keeping the promise he’d made to his wife and protecting their child.

  For three weeks, he’d kept the priest prisoner in a cave a mile away from the little tavern where he’d left Trace in the care of a local whore. His father had paid her to ignore her customers and focus on his son with the promise of an excruciating death if she’d failed him in any way. Night and day his father questioned the priest, careful to keep Trace’s existence a secret.

  The priest refused to answer. At first, his father had been patient with the old man, hoping to coax the holy man out of the answers he desperately needed. It wasn’t until the whore stumbled into the cave, carrying Trace who’d taken a turn for the worse that his father had lost control. He’d attacked the priest and threatened to turn him if he didn’t tell him what he needed to know so that he could save Trace.

  The threat worked. The priest quickly explained that children like Trace were not human, something his father had feared since his birth. He’d also explained that Trace was a Pyte, the unnatural product between a vampire and a human woman. He’d explained that a Pyte would remain weak unless he was fed blood along with a human diet and if he ever reached his sixteenth year he would go into a deep sleep and wake up changed into a true immortal with absolutely no way to kill him. The priest had refused to tell Ethan anything else. Instead, he’d pleaded with Ethan to kill Trace before it was too late.

  As Ethan struggled with what the priest told him, the terrified whore pulled a small dagger from between her breasts and tried to stab Trace through his heart. She would have succeeded if the priest hadn’t screamed for her to do it when she’d hesitated. Ethan lunged for her, taking the dagger in his shoulder and before she could scream for help, he’d ripped her throat out.

  Using the dead whore’s dagger, he’d slit his own wrist and carefully fed his blood to Trace, praying the priest hadn’t lied to him. For two days straight, his father held vigil over him while the priest prayed for his death. Once Trace managed to open his eyes, his father had been determined to do whatever it took to keep him safe until the day that he would no longer need to worry about him.

  Ethan had kept his word to the priest even though he knew by doing so that he was unleashing a world of hell on the two of them, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to hurt a man of God no matter the reason. He’d made the priest promise to give them a day’s start before he alerted the Sentinels. Once the promise was given, he’d freed the priest, grabbed Trace, and fled. They’d barely made it out of the village before the Sentinels came for them.

  From that point on, his father kept Trace hidden from everyone, too afraid that someone would figure out that Trace was the small boy that the Sentinel Council was looking for. They’d moved frequently, searching for others like Trace and finding nothing more than rumors and old ghost stories meant to frighten small children into behaving.

  No matter how many nests he came across, Ethan couldn’t find anyone that had come across another Pyte before. They’d stayed as long as they could, but once a Master caught wind of Trace’s existence they were forced to run. Most Masters viewed him as a potential threat and wanted to kill him, but others wanted to keep him to find out what he could do for them once he hit his immortality.

  Once they’d outstayed their welcome in Europe, his father purchased passage for the two of them to the colonies. They’d both instantly fallen in love with New England. Although it was already a well-loved area for many demons and shifters, vampires were reluctant to settle in the colonies since it would have been more difficult to hide what they were. It would have been safer for them to stay in Europe where they could move more freely, but his father hadn’t wanted to take any more chances.

  For the past two years, they’d enjoyed a sense of freedom they hadn’t known in Europe. They mostly stayed in small villages, which Trace preferred. When they were in the towns like Boston, Trace hadn’t been allowed to leave their room, but here he could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted as long as he avoided the shifter Packs that sometimes crossed the area.

  He’d made a point of going outside every day, enjoying the sunlight on his skin while he still could. In a matter of days, weeks, or months he was supposed to make his transition and then the sun would be lost to him forever. It was the same reason that his father had settled them here even though it meant that he had to travel most of the night to the nearest town to feed.

  For years, Trace had been counting down the days until his sixteenth birthday. Once he hit his immortality, which according to that priest should be soon, his father would no longer have to worry about him and could return to Europe where life would be easier for him.

  Trace had already decided that he wouldn’t be returning to Europe with his father, not after the warning the priest had given them. Once he underwent his transformation, he was going to move away from everyone and everything. He’d feed on rats if that’s what it took because he refused to be the monster that he was destined to become.

  “I know that I promised that we could stay here, but after yesterday you have to realize that’s no longer possible. It’s not safe here,” his father explained. “They’re shifters, Trace. You know how they feel about our kind.”

  “But, father, Mary doesn’t care about any of that,” Trace said, and when his father opened his mouth to argue he rushed on, “and they don’t know about you. They think I’m here by myself. As long as I stay away from the rest of her Pack and take the long way home through the swamp, we’ll be safe.”

  His father went still. “The Pack knows about you?”

  Trace reluctantly nodded, shifting anxiously as his father’s blue eyes flashed silver. Trace didn’t need any light to know that his father’s fangs had dropped as well.

  “You told me they didn’t see you!” his father snapped, coming to his feet.

  Trace stepped back
from his father. He knew his father would never hurt him, but even knowing that didn’t stop him from stumbling back from him when his father released a vicious growl. He’d seen what his father was capable of and knew that he never wanted to be on the receiving end of his father’s temper.

  He swallowed hard.

  “I-I t-think they spotted me when we were by the stream, Father. Mary told me to run, but I think it might have been too late and that’s why they struck her, but she didn’t tell them about me!” he promised.

  Ethan rubbed his hands over his face, muttering something that Trace couldn’t hear.

  “Father?” Trace said, taking a tentative step forward.

  “You fool!” Ethan roared, slamming his fist down on the small table and breaking it into a dozen pieces before he stormed towards Trace. Before Trace could back away, his father grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

  “Her loyalty belongs to her Pack. Not you! She’s already told them about you!” his father snapped, shaking him harder. “Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you once they get their hands on you?”

  “The full moon isn’t for another two weeks, Father! I’m safe!”

  He knew they’d have to leave before the next full moon when every shifter in the region would be able to turn, because they’d be able to hunt them down. During those nights, they’d have to move to the city where it would be safer since shifters avoided humans on those night to keep their existence hidden. But once it was over, they could come back and he could keep Mary safe.

  “You’re not safe,” his father bit out through clenched teeth. “Their Alpha can change at will. He can hunt you down when I’m not there to protect you, you fool!”

  His grip tightened on Trace’s shoulders as he closed his eyes, almost as if he was the one in pain. “Please tell me that you didn’t tell her what you are.”

  Trace winced as pain shot through his shoulders. “She promised not to tell,” he said softly.

  “You fool!” Ethan roared, slamming Trace into the door.

  “She’s my friend!”

  Ethan backhanded him, knocking him against the wall, and destroying what little hope that he’d had left that his father would understand, making him realize that he no longer had a choice. He had to save her before it was too late.

  “Oh my god...” his father said, looking horrified as he moved towards him. “Trace, I’m sorry.”

  Trace shifted to his right and yanked on the short rope, pulling the door open and flooding their small cottage with sunlight. His father hissed as he was forced to retreat to the far side of the cottage where the sun couldn’t reach him.

  “Don’t!” his father yelled.

  “I’m sorry, Father, but I have to make sure that she’s okay,” Trace said as he slammed the door shut and took off for the woods.

  Trace could still hear his father screaming his name when he reached the woods. He looked up at the bright afternoon sun, noting that he would only have a few hours before his father would be able to leave the cottage and come for him. That was more than enough time to make sure that Mary was safe before he was forced to say good-bye. He needed to explain things to Mary and make sure that she knew that he’d be back for her once he reached his immortality so he could take care of her.

  Maybe she’d run away with him and his father, Trace thought as he navigated his way through the thick swamp. That way he wouldn’t have to wait until he reached his immortality. The more he thought about it, the more he liked this plan. He knew that his father wouldn’t be happy, but once he saw how sweet and gentle Mary was, he’d be more than happy to help keep her safe.

  This could really work, Trace thought with a surge of excitement, quickening his pace, eager to find Mary and tell her. A half hour later, he stumbled through the thick foliage, gasping for air and grinning hugely when he spotted Mary sitting by the stream.

  She looked up at him as he stepped out of the woods, making him frown when he realized that she wasn’t smiling. She’d always greeted him with a smile and a warm embrace, but now she looked nervous. He swore softly. Of course, she was nervous. Her Pack would punish her if they found them together again.

  “I’m so glad you came, Trace,” Mary said, brushing back those golden locks that he’d dreamed of running his fingers through.

  “Of course, I came,” Trace said, reaching for her only to find her stepping back out of his reach. “Mary, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking another step towards her.

  “Nothing,” she said, smiling brightly.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, running his eyes over her face, her well-worn brown dress, hands, and bare feet and sighed with relief when he didn’t find any bruises or cuts marring her beautiful pale skin.

  “Why would I be hurt?” Mary asked, stepping away from him as she toyed with her apron strings.

  He reached out and gently took her hands in his, refusing to allow her to pull away again. “Mary,” Trace said, looking into her eyes, “I saw him strike you.”

  She shrugged it away as if it were nothing. “I broke a Pack rule.”

  “What rule?” he asked, frowning when she pulled her hands free.

  “Mary, what-oomph!” The air rushed out of his lungs as he dropped to the ground, barely able to register Mary’s pleased smile as he watched the large wooden mallet race towards his head, again.

  Chapter 1

  Westdrom, Maine

  Present Day

  “Charlie! Oh my god, don’t pee on that!” Sam pleaded as Charlie raised a dark furry leg and gave her a pointed look that could only be taken as a threat.

  Sam pulled on her old fluffy pink bunny slippers as she eyed her brother’s pain in the ass German Sheppard that he’d left with her when his unit had been deployed two months ago. She pointed a finger at him, trying to look stern as she said, “If so, much as a drop hits that staircase, you will never have another slice of pepperoni pizza.”

  The dog eyed her for a moment before shifting his attention to the two-story colonial house’s original staircase that she’d spent last weekend sanding. The wood was bone dry and would happily absorb every drop Charlie gave it and then Sam would have to come up with the ten thousand dollars needed to replace the staircase, something that she’d been hoping to avoid.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, Charlie lowered his leg, his eyes never leaving hers, looking for a reason to go through with the threat. Sam stood up, putting her hands on her hips and said, “That’s right, buddy. You better remember who controls the pizza in this house.”

  Charlie huffed as he padded past her to the front door. Sam was just about to run upstairs and grab her flannel bathrobe, but then shrugged and followed the horrible dog that hated her outside. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to see her in her brother’s old Superman pajamas out here. They were ten miles from town and their nearest neighbor was eight miles away and was only here during the summer. She could walk around naked all day and never have to worry about another soul seeing her, except maybe for the deer that liked to walk around the small clearing in the backyard.

  She didn’t bother grabbing Charlie’s leash since the dog would take that as a challenge and drag her out back through thorns, weeds, and over the rocks in the stream before he happily dunked her ass in the mud, again. He seemed to really enjoy making her life a living hell, something that she’d reminded Nathan of numerous times before he’d left. Each and every time, he’d sigh heavily and tell her that it was all in her head and that Charlie loved her.

  Her eyes narrowed on the dog as he showed her SUV tire a lot of love. The entire time he stared at her, daring her to say something about it. She narrowed her eyes on him as she bent down and picked up an old slimy tennis ball. Standing up slowly, she held it up.

  “Uh-oh, does Charlie want his ball?” Sam asked in a syrupy sweet voice as she moved the ball from side to side, smiling as the little bastard’s eyes narrowed on his favorite ball. Just when he put his leg down and crouched to spring at her, she pulled he
r arm back and let the ball go flying through the trees and thick brush. “Go get it!”

  The dog threw her one last dirty look that promised all sorts of retaliation before he took off through the brush where she hoped he finished his business. He had a nasty habit of leaving his little “packages” as her Grandmother Powers used to call them, around her truck. She didn’t care what Nathan said. She wasn’t paranoid.

  That dog was out to get her.

  Wiping her hands off on her pajama pants, she walked back into the house, untangling the necklace that Nathan had given her when they were kids from her hair as she decided this would be the perfect opportunity to enjoy a hassle-free breakfast. It was something she hadn’t had since she moved in with Nathan after she’d left Craig.

  It was funny how four months ago her biggest problem was Craig throwing the newspaper away before she could read it. Their mornings together had been quiet, relaxing, and comfortable. The only thing that interrupted their quiet routine had been talk of the wedding. The wedding that should have happened two months ago but didn’t thanks to Craig and the cashier at Anne Marie’s Bakery.

  Apparently, Craig liked his coffee with a little something extra and Beth provided it. Of course, their breakup probably wouldn’t have been so bad if the two of them hadn’t stumbled out of the employee bathroom with their pants down around their ankles for everyone to see, including Sam. Then again, she probably would have survived that humiliating moment if Craig hadn’t taken the opportunity to announce to one and all that she was horrible in bed. That had also led to him pointing out that she was too damn fat to turn any man on.

  Instead of yelling at him, or at the very least bitch slapping him, Sam had been left speechless. Later, of course, she’d thought of a hundred different things she should have said. That always happened to her. She was really horrible at handling confrontation, which was probably why her high school debate teacher handed her a library pass the second week of school with a pitying look and told her that she could skip class for the rest of the year. It had been humiliating, but at least she didn’t have to worry about passing out and hitting her head on the podium, again.