Love is Darkness (A Valerie Dearborn Novel)

by Hanson, Caroline

  Would have, could have, should have.

  The airport outside of Rome was busy, everyone seeming to be in just as much of a hurry as she was. She waited for her taxi and tried to focus on the drive instead of her grief. The taxi driver had a death wish, smoking and swearing at the radio in Italian as he careened down the streets like they were a ball in a pinball machine.

  She knew some of the words he muttered because of Jack. Like when he'd cut his finger preparing dinner and had to get three stitches, or when she'd tried to sneak out and go to parties. All the memories of her life seemed to wash through her, and by the time she arrived at the hospital she was a trembling mess. She got out of the taxi at the hospital and walked to the front entrance.

  There was a bench outside and she recognized Jack sitting there, hands clasped and head down as the world went on around him. She called to him and he looked up, brushing a hand over his cheek to wipe away tears. He came towards her and opened his arms, gripping her tightly.

  She finally pulled away from him and met his eyes. They were so dark they were almost black. He looked haggard and she realized he'd lost weight since she'd seen him last. She could see the definition of his cheekbones, his features more severe in their beauty than they had been, any softness sloughed away.

  “He's gone Val.”

  She licked her lips, her throat dry and her body oddly numb. “Did he say anything?”

  Jack shook his head slowly. “No. He never woke up. Last night we attacked some vampires. A lot of vampires actually, and your father was hit, knocked out. He didn't wake up.”

  “What should I do?”

  His hands went to her arms and squeezed her gently. “I don't know. We can leave or you can see him. He's still in the hospital room. I guess it depends on whether or not you need to see him one last time. If you have things to say....”

  The vampires had killed him. She did want to see it, needed to know how it was done. She wondered which vampire had killed her father. Jack took her suitcase, pulling it behind them as they walked to the elevator. He led her past a bustling nurses station to a closed door. He gestured to it but stepped back.

  “You don't want to go in?” she asked.

  “No, I've seen him. I know.” He nodded and she realized he was angry at her. He'd been there and she hadn't.

  Great. This would be another argument they could have for the rest of their lives.

  She went into the room and closed the door behind her. The curtain was pulled closed and she didn't want to open it, like it would be too noisy or rude somehow. She looked for the separation of material instead and stepped through quietly. Stupid.

  Her father was gray. There were no tubes or monitors in the room. Just silence. He was dead. What would they put in him? Nate’s hand was above the bed spread and she touched it lightly. She didn't have anything to say. But she sat down anyway and waited to cry.

  Nothing happened. She'd cried on the plane, in the airport, even in the taxi. Now she was here and she had nothing left. She stood and looked at him. A bruise on the side of his face disappeared into the bandages wrapped around his head.

  There were no bite marks. Her father would have hated that.

  She left and found Jack sitting in a chair, arms crossed and head tilted back as he stared at nothing.

  “Who did it?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  Jack looked bewildered for a moment. “I don't know. The whole thing was a blur.” He shrugged, watching her carefully.

  “Do you know what the vampire looked like? Male or female?”

  He frowned. “I don't have any idea. The whole place was chaos.”

  She had nothing to say. She needed to find Lucas. Jack stood before her and his hand raised like he was going to touch her arm, but then he stopped and folded them instead. A nurse called her name, waving a phone receiver at her.

  Jack went with her, reaching the nurse first and taking the phone, voice curious. She didn't mind that he took the call, he'd want to do all the funeral arrangements anyway. He was a control freak. “Buono Sera?” The vowels were smooth and liquid.

  Jack's gaze flicked to Val, “Who is this?” he asked in English.

  Val grabbed the phone from him and he let her, leaning against the nurse's station in a lazy motion that made Valerie's heart beat faster in fear.

  “Hello?” She wanted her voice to be blank.

  “Valerie,” Lucas said tonelessly.

  Her voice shook with emotion. “Where are you?”

  “I am in Rome. Shall I send a driver?”

  “No.” Jack was still looking at her suspiciously.

  Fuck it. She hung up the phone and threw up her hands, turning to walk away. Jack grabbed her arm, stopping her, his grip too firm to be comfortable.

  “Who was that?” Each word was punctuated and slow. He moved closer to her, crowding her space and she wanted to back up. She stayed still, her head going back to look at him since he was so tall. He held a finger in front of her face, and spoke in a venomously quiet tone. “Don't lie to me Val. Don't put us on that road. Do you understand me?”

  She pulled free of his grip. He let her go as though she burned him, watching as she rubbed her arm to get the circulation going again. “I'm not your sister. I'm not your girlfriend and I'm not your responsibility. Do you get it, Jack? I'm not.” Each word felt vicious and hard, like she was punching every statement into his body.

  He nodded and looked away from her. “I have to fill out paperwork. Wait for me and I'll take you to the hotel.”

  “No. I want to go now. I'll meet you later. I can find somewhere to stay.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “The hell you will. I know you— I know you and….”

  She could see him thinking, deciding what to say and what not to say, his posture implacable and set. “Nate's gone, Val. Just go to the hotel. We've been on the edge for too long. If you’re not there when I get there things will change.”

  Val didn't know what she heard in his voice, anger and lust, defiance and despair. He'd let her go, that's what he was telling her. If she wasn't there, he wouldn't come find her. She gave a jerky nod and he handed her a card. The hotel and its address. He let her leave and she felt him watching her the whole way.

  Chapter 13

  Rome, Italy

  She went to her hotel room and opened the door. The lights were already on and the window was open, sounds of the palazzo below drifting in with the breeze.

  Lucas was sitting in a chair next to the window, looking as though he belonged there. “I just got here and checked in? How did you get here first?”

  He smiled at her benignly, ignoring the question.

  The anger came back in a rush, scorching her grief into ash. No more being good and frightened. She wanted answers and by god she was going to get them. She’d push and provoke until he told her or killed her. He wouldn’t fucking manipulate her anymore.

  Val closed the door and set the deadbolt. When she turned back towards Lucas he was watching her, a faintly questioning expression on his face.

  “Shall I be frightened then?” he asked mockingly.

  “You promised me! If I helped you, you would keep them safe. All that crap about how your word of honor meant something to you. I even believed you! What a fucking idiot, I am. Why should I have believed you?”

  She'd been stalking towards him, her anger making her brave and reckless. She wanted to hit him, punish him for Nate and Jack, for taking her life away, for making her want him, punish him for every shitty thing that had ever happened to her.

  He let her approach, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward— waiting. Because he was in control. That’s what he was telling her with his mocking voice and patient tone.

  The hell he is.

  The chair looked small, the whole room was small with him in it.

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm her rage.

  “What will you have of me?” he murmured.

  Val walked up to him and he sett
led back in the chair, letting her crowd his space and come between his thighs. “Did you know the Hunters would be there?” Her eyes searched his face, looking for signs of deception.

  “I did not. There were too many vampires in that room last night. It was not safe for Hunters there.” She believed him and she wondered if that was foolish.

  “Then who told them? How did they know?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Guess.” she said, voice filled with rage.

  There was a tension in his shoulders, the sense that he was holding himself very still, like she was an animal in the jungle and he was waiting to see if she’d pounce. Or maybe he was just trying not to laugh at her. “There is no point. I do not know.”

  Her hands fisted at her sides. “I called you. My father was hurt and I needed to be here.” The unspoken accusation was there. Where were you that you couldn't get me here before he died?

  He inclined his head but said nothing.

  “Did you know my father was there last night?”

  “What does this serve? You seek to hold me accountable for actions I could neither control nor foresee.”

  He knew. She was certain of it. “That's not true. I think you could have done something. All this time you have asked for my trust, pretended that you are omnipotent and that you would be able to protect me and my family, but that was a lie.”

  His hand reached up to her and he took her chin in his hand. “Did you expect the truth from me?”

  Val felt stupid but nodded, tears in her eyes. “I did.” Why? Because he’d saved her? Because he was beautiful and she wanted him?

  She looked away from his cold blue eyes and tried to watch his mouth, his full lips and even teeth. She'd never even seen a hint of fang. He must have them.

  “Valerie, it was not foolish to trust me.” She jerked her face away from his grip and he released her easily, the light touch broken.

  Wasn't it? She thought of all the things he didn't tell her. What was his interest in her? Any Hunter, any person would have done his bidding if he'd threatened their family, so why her? She'd been too trusting or too afraid to push for answers but that time was over.

  “Why won't you drink my blood?” It was the question at the forefront of her mind, spoken before she had time to think about asking anything else.

  He smiled at her, a genuine smile that held a hint of something male or chauvinistic. “I would have avoided giving you my blood if I could have. Blood holds power. By drinking my blood you are bound to me. Only lightly. It would grow stronger if it was repeated frequently. And,” he paused, “you may know my feelings as well. They might be clear to you or you might find yourself guessing and be correct. I do not know how strong the bond is.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. She watched him do it.

  Nervous.

  “As for my restraint in taking your blood, your blood would have untold consequences. It would bring me to my knees, and as tempting as that is, my answer is no.” He said it calmly, almost jokingly, but there was a hardness at the end of his words that got her attention.

  He turned his face from her. She didn’t like that, her hand reaching out to his jaw, fingers sliding down his skin. Granite. He closed his eyes and almost flinched away from her touch, she felt his jaw clench under her fingers and then his skin was warm, and she could feel stubble under her fingers.

  She moved her hands into his hair. He didn’t need thick, golden, shiny hair.

  Something dark shifted inside of her and she wanted to tug it, use the weight of his hair to pull his head back, make him look at her. Instead of her constant fascination.

  “It hurts you to play human for me, doesn't it?”

  He turned back towards her and their gazes locked. “Do you know it or guess it?” His voice was deep.

  She thought about the question. “I know it.”

  His hands rose, resting on her waist keeping her between his legs.

  That small touch made her breath hitch. Maybe because it was possessive, or maybe it was the look in his eyes that went with it—hot and dominant.

  Untamed. That was it. The look in his eyes, the tension in his body, he was different tonight because he wasn’t in control of himself. Not like before, where he was only as close as he wanted to be. Right now he was here, present and in this. Right now, he’d give her anything she wanted.

  She decided to ask him again, “Did you know the Hunters would show up last night?”

  “I did not.”

  Her hand fisted lightly in his hair, tugging his head back so that he looked up at her. He could kill her in a moment but he was pretending to be pliant for her. She liked the way he closed his eyes as his head went back, the furrow of his brow and the way his fingers were tightening on her hips.

  What did he hope to accomplish? What did he really need from her that he couldn't get from someone else?

  “Do you want to drink my blood?” Almost the same question but not.

  She felt something from him, an eagerness and a restraint, like he tamped down his first response. But his expression didn't change from polite interest. His voice, when he answered, was deep and caressing, sliding over her body like it was his hands and lips instead. “More than anything I have ever wanted.”

  Truth.

  She became lightheaded with fear and a pleasure so heavy she didn't want to acknowledge it. Her nipples pebbled and she wanted him in her. Immediately. Now. Hard. Fast.

  A rush of desire pulsed through her and he closed his eyes, taking a breath that flared his nostrils, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

  His eyes were sapphire blue when he opened them, his smile rueful and human. He gentled his hold on her hips and said thickly, “I will not drink your blood. As much as I want to, I won’t.” He didn't say the words like a man afraid, or at least not like he was confessing a guilty secret.

  As though he read her mind, he said, “There is no shame in not wanting your blood. If anything, there is shame in wanting it, for your blood is a weakness, a mirror of emotion and feeling which vampires spend centuries disposing of.”

  “Why? What is it about my blood?” He looked down briefly. Was he thinking or hiding his expression?

  With a sigh and a noise so slight she might have imagined it, he leaned forward, resting his head against her stomach as though gathering himself. Then he straightened, leaned back into the chair and stopped touching her. The cool mask back in place.

  “You are an empath. Your blood restores feeling and emotion for a vampire, can settle a werewolf. Your kind were delegates between the vampires, the shape shifters and the Fey.”

  Empath. The revelation cut through the fog of lust and anger that was wrapped around her. Finally, an answer. What he wanted from her and why. His fascination with her. Did it explain her fascination with him too?

  “Are empaths human?” She was scared of the answer.

  “Yes. For all practical purposes, an empath is human.”