With an angry twist, the bike came to life beneath him. It was a beast in its own right. A perfect machine.
The bike roared beneath him as he pushed the machine to its limits. The highway wasn’t as busy as it usually was. Granted, it didn’t do much good when even the police were too afraid to brave the streets.
He glanced up at the window one last time before leaving. Drake was dead, as was his brother, Brad. Whether she thought so or not, she was safe from the Bacalou. With Maya’s marriage to the Baron Samedi, they had what they wanted. The voodoo god’s minions wouldn’t bother her again. There was still the small problem of Angela being considered a missing person by the New Orleans Police. If he sent her home, they’d ask too many tough questions. A single slip up could bring attention on the paranormal community, who required their privacy.
Angela was by far the most puzzling woman he’d ever met. He wasn’t sure whether it was meant as a compliment or not. Being around her clouded every waking thought and he needed space. There was no hiding that his soul had latched onto hers the moment he’d picked up her tiny, broken frame from the church pew of St. Louis Cathedral. Then what? He had an entire army after him. Although, she didn’t need to know about that.
Arlen had the GPS set to the address Loren had sent him. However, instead of working another job, he just wanted the road to pass beneath him for miles until he figured out a way to bridge the gap between his head knew was right and what his half dead heart craved. A part of him was feeling guilty for leaving her alone and unprotected. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He was sure she needed time alone to process and he’d give her that, but why did he feel so damn ashamed of it? The further he got from her the worse the feeling grew, until finally, he could barely take it anymore. He wanted to turn around. God damn you’re whipped, he thought to himself.
It was pathetic how quickly he’d fallen so completely and hopelessly in love with his tiny, golden goddess. The reason behind his overwhelming need for the woman was one that he didn’t think he was ready to face. His people were different. The Fae were created to each have their own perfect counterpart. A true soul mate. Having a human mate wasn’t unheard of, but it was far from common and typically left both partners dead. Fae had very long lives, hundreds of years compared to the short expanse of a human life. Once a mate died, the other would soon follow. Such was their fate if they allowed themselves to bond more than they already had.
Even without the practical ramifications, a man in his position couldn’t risk taking a mate. He’d been hunting the criminals of the paranormal community for quite some time, though he never forgot that he was also the hunted.
Arlen rolled to a stop about a block away from the house in question and cut the engine. They’d hear him coming and that was okay. Vampires had big egos and always thought they were King Shit until Arlen showed them how much they didn’t know.
He tugged on his gloves and checked his handguns.
Safety off, check.
Fully loaded, check.
Extra magazines, check.
He picked up the bag from where he’d strapped it to the back of his bike and swung it over his shoulder.
They’d probably be expecting some type of ambush. Yeah, he’d be walking right through the front door with his finger on the trigger.
The house came into view. It was a shotgun double with faded yellow paint flaking off the front porch and a sagging floor. Whoever owned the house had abandoned it a long time ago or not been the keenest on upkeep. No lights showed through the front windows and several of the side windows were broken out. There were no signs of life and that was exactly what he was looking for.
Most vampires snuck under the radar by inhabiting the undesirables. There were a few who preferred a much more refined taste. Those were the royals. Nasty fuckers, the whole lot of them.
The UV gun was ready on his back. He grabbed it and flipped the switch so it could begin powering up. It was like a black light on steroids and could level a bloodsucker in the blink of an eye. Covens like those were fairly common and typically small with no more than seven or so vampires.
He grabbed a gun from his holster and made his way up the sidewalk to the front door. Arlen stopped, watching each window for signs of movement within the home. With a deep drag of air through his nose, he could smell them. They reeked of death and earth. There was also the stench of decay; they had brought their dinner home. The body wasn’t his concern, though.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
He marched up the steps, the wood was spongy enough to not make much noise. His weapon was trained on the door in front of him with a stake in his other hand. With one final deep breath, he stepped back and launched his foot forward to connect with the door. The flimsy bit of wood flew inwards, cracking the frame when it smacked the wall.
A screech filled his ears and immediately one of them was on him. Its speed was faster than usual; it had to be freshly made. Its nails were like claws and it swiped at Arlen aimlessly. He wasn’t one to begin blindly firing, so hand to hand combat it was.
It circled him. When he’d had enough, Arlen swung. His fist crashed into its face with a loud crack. Arms went around his middle and tightened painfully. He twisted and jerked, bringing the thing in front of him. With a quick shove, he buried the stake into its heart before pulling it back out. The vampire staggered backwards before he dropped to the wooden floorboards and disintegrated into a steaming pile of goop.
Arlen caught a flash of teeth from the opposite direction just before they sank into his shoulder. His head swung back and crashed into its face, briefly distracting it from its hunt. She released him and let off an earsplitting shriek. The fire haired she-devil was crazed with bloodlust.
He was done fucking around. Angela needed him there and he’d left her alone. The job needed to be done because he had shit to do. With a flip of his wrist, he’d flung the stake with precise accuracy and it embedded itself deep into her chest, killing her instantly.
He made his way up the stairway to the second floor of the house. Several of the steps had rotted away to nothing, leaving large holes in their wake. He kept his feet along the edge of the boards in case he needed to move quickly. The air inside the house was stuffy and stale, making it hard to sniff out hiding spots. However, the blood leaking from his shoulder could draw them right out to him.
He rounded the railing and eyed the three rooms before him carefully. Arlen had to make the right decision, because if he didn’t, they could ambush him or escape before he could finish them all. Loren would have his head if the job was anything less than perfectly executed.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Arlen whispered so low it was barely audible. They’d hear him though. That was at least part of his plan.
The house was as silent as the grave was cold. He pulled a second gun from his holster, sporting one in each hand.
Show time.
The creak of a board had him watching the room on the left. He was almost certain the room ahead of him in the center was a bathroom. Arlen held his breath, listening for any sign of movement. He stepped towards the sound he’d heard and as soon as his foot made contact with his next footfall, the door opposite exploded outwards towards him.
Arlen squared up and began firing. His aim was almost perfect, two bloodsuckers dropped in heaps at the doorway. One more scaled the walls like he was Spiderman and disappeared into the nearest room, the bathroom. He charged after him. Arlen kicked the door in. Like a starving dog, the vampire was crouched low in front of the bath tub guarding its meal. He hissed at Arlen and took a swipe at him. His eyes were the color of blood and his fangs were extended and prepared to kill. With a quick shot, Arlen put the man out of his misery.
He checked every other room in the house and found no other vampires. In total, there were five of them, one human, and two corpses. One man was left barely alive and severely low on blood. The authorities would find him soon. Arlen would make an anonymo
us call to notify them of a noise violation. They’d clean up the mess none the wiser. Vampires couldn’t be identified by the messes they left behind, but it would be a huge headache for whichever lab tech got the DNA results. It would read out as a contaminated sample or an error.
Arlen collected his things so he would leave no traces of himself and headed out the back door. He made a small loop back to his bike with the hope he wouldn’t be noticed coming from the house. Climbing onto his bike, he placed a quick call to Loren. The money would be delivered as soon as the job was confirmed. He revved the engine and tore out of there, not wanting to stick around. The vampires had all been newly turned. They were surviving on basic instinct. Granted, that didn’t help to get rid of the sights of their poor victims out of his head. It had been bad, but not the worst he’d ever seen. Unfortunately, the worst he’d seen had been at the hands of his family.
The trip back had Arlen intensely focused on his mate. It didn’t take long for the city to come back in to view with his mind being so clouded with thoughts of Angela. The whole situation was fucked. He knew without a doubt, what he needed to do.
Distance.
For so long, Arlen had been running from the mistakes of his past. He didn’t regret them, but it was those errors that made him ache on Angela’s behalf. She deserved better than him. His demons would tear her to pieces. He wondered how long it would be before the sickness set in. His father had gone down quickly and Lorik, his half brother, he heard he’d had been battling it for some time. Arlen knew his days were numbered; he just hoped he could last long enough to make sure Angela would be okay. She was human. She would find someone else and have a good life away from the insanity his kind brought. Then there was his job to contend with. Would Angela be supportive and accepting when he’d have to leave at the drop of a hat and not tell her where he was going or what he was doing? He didn’t think so.
His decision was made.
He’d help his woman get back on her feet and make sure she would be okay. Then, he’d do one of the hardest things he’d ever done and walk away.
Arlen tore down the exit ramp of the expressway and onto the streets of his city as he made his way back. The neighborhoods had become less crowded since Drake’s attempted take over. The typically pedestrian filled roadways were nearly empty, yet it didn’t stop Arlen from feeling as though he were being watched. His eyes scanned the rooftops as he passed them and scrutinized the darkest of shadows just behind the veil of light. He’d been a hunter long enough to know where to look.
He pulled up to the front of his building and cut the engine. He was swinging his leg over the bike when he caught a glimpse of his stalker.
Brokk stepped forward from the darkened alley beside his building.
The man had been like a brother when they were boys, back before everything had gotten so fucked up. Now, Arlen tensed, ready for an attack. There was only one reason the Fae would seek him out.
Assassination.
“Brokk,” Arlen acknowledged, dipping his head in respectful yet distant greeting.
“Arlen,” he replied. “It’s been a long time.”
Arlen wasn’t the type to beat around the bushes with idle chatter. “Why are you here?” he asked, positioning his body between the visitor and the entrance to the building.
“You know just as well as I do why I’m here, old friend. We were always going to find you, it was just a matter of time.”
Arlen nodded. He knew why they’d finally come for him, but his curiosity demanded some answers.
“How did you find me?” Arlen asked the Fae guard.
Brokk’s face darkened. “We’ve been looking a long damn time with no clues. As luck would have it, you walked into one of the biggest disturbances in the human world in over a century. St. Louis Cathedral ringing a bell? I guess I should be the one thanking you for making my job a bit easier,” he explained as he straightened himself and flexed slightly.
Brokk was burly by Fae standards and his snow white hair was shaved tight against his scalp. Despite his size, he was graceful and agile like a cat. Brokk’s body was poised to spring at any second.
“Is it a kill order? Or was I to be taken back alive?” Arlen asked, trying to gauge the situation.
Brokk rolled his head to the side as if to loosen his muscles. “Lorik wants you alive. He wants you to stand trial for your crimes, as well you should.”
“I see.”
If Lorik wanted him alive then there was more going on with his brother than he knew.
“I’ll give you a bit of advice only because I value the friendship we once had. There will be more of us and we will find you if you run. I’ll even give you time to get your things in order, but turn yourself in. It’ll be easier on everyone if you come in on your own, quietly.”
Arlen remained silent, giving the impression that he was mulling the decision over. After a few beats, he broke the tense silence between the two men. “And if I refuse?”
Brokk’s face darkened. “You murdered the king in cold blood. Your own father. If you think that is something I can forgive and let slide, then you have severely underestimated me.”
Hearing the charge spill from his old friend’s lips made Arlen straighten a bit. He’d walked away from the Fae and the crown for a damn good reason. He was certain Lorik had never let the real story see the light of day. His brother had too much to gain.
“I’ll give you two days to get your affairs in order and surrender peacefully. After that, I will show you no mercy.” Brokk, spun on his heels and slunk back into the darkness like the expert hunter he was.
Arlen knew he’d be watched constantly until his time was up and there wasn’t a point in trying to reason with them. The Fae didn’t live by the American standards of justice. He was guilty until proven innocent. He had killed his father and he didn’t regret an ounce of it.
It was something that Arlen was going to have to face sooner rather than later. Lorik was, undoubtedly, a tyrant on the throne; he’d taken after their father that way. Arlen had thought he could avoid a similar fate by leaving, at least he wouldn’t be dragging an entire race of people down with him.
Chapter 9
Angie
Angie paced back and forth across the open studio apartment. Arlen had been conflicted and she had been admittedly difficult when he’d left. Something buried deep within nagged at her to make things right between the two of them. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he felt important, vital even. The pair had a chemistry between them and she was afraid to admit the depth of her emotions.
A man like Arlen wouldn’t want someone like her, someone who’s been damaged beyond repair. Boys never stuck around once they saw the real Angie. Her insecurities had driven off every guy who’d been interested in more than a quick fuck.
Would he even come back? Angie wondered, her long buried fear of abandonment resurfacing.
She crossed her arms across her chest and brought her thumb to her mouth. Angie bit down on the hard nail surface. She was having a hard time letting go of her anger and frustrations though. They’d been about to kiss and it would’ve been epic. Then, poof, nothing. He had run.
She was sure Arlen was about to run like all the other men who had passed through her life. Then, she heard keys jingle in the lock. The icy tentacles of fear crept into her blood right before Arlen’s handsome face passed through the open door. She heaved a heavy sigh of relief upon seeing that he returned to her.
“Hi,” she squeaked quietly, suddenly feeling shier than she had felt since middle school.
His eyes were dark and it would seem his mood hadn’t lightened in the least. If anything, he’d gotten worse.
He grunted his greeting, not sparing her a glance as he crossed the room to the window overlooking the street. His sole focus lay outside.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, trying to see past him to what he was looking at.
“Nothing.” His tone was clipped and tense much like hi
s body language.
Angie had studied him during their time together and she’d become familiar with the fluidity to Arlen’s movement. This stiff gait was totally unlike him.
“Something has to have you all wound up. What’s going on?”
Angie shuffled closer and hesitantly reached out to lay her hand against his back. His searing heat could be felt through the thin material of his shirt. She was in awe of his raw power as she grasped the lines of sinew and corded muscle beneath her fingertips. Little by little, his muscles rolled and relaxed under her touch.
He peaked over his shoulder at her with a gaze filled with conflicting emotions. His grip on the window sill loosened and she watched as the white along his knuckles returned to their normal peach coloring.
“Stay away from the windows. It’s not safe,” he muttered, barely audible.
She took a step back and broke the hold she had on him. Immediately, she realized exactly what he was doing. He was standing guard and doing what he could to protect her.
“What’s out there?”
“Ghosts who should’ve stayed buried.”
His deep voice held a hint of sadness and he looked haunted. He was a complicated man and she could respect that. He’d tell her what was going on in his own time, when he was ready. Angie already knew he wasn’t a man to be forced into anything. No, he’d been on his own for too long to give into such things.
“Are you alright?” she asked, afraid he’d shut her down. She wanted to be there for him the same way he had been for her.
He sighed deeply and nodded before stepping back from the window. Arlen threw the blinds shut and turned to face her. The tense energy between them was becoming something…more. Suddenly, she was much less sure of herself as she took in his hungry gaze.
He stepped forward and she took one back as if they were playing a game of chess. His brows furrowed at her reaction.
It was the first time she’d actually considered how things would change if she went to bed with Arlen. She knew well enough that sex changed everything and carelessly hopping into bed with him could ruin whatever was growing between them.
Broken (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 3) Page 5
