by Jessica Lee
A wave of loneliness swamped Alex, souring her stomach with her own self-pity. And she hated it. Hated feeling sorry for herself. That wasn’t who she was. She didn’t begrudge Elle one moment of her happiness. Her sister deserved having a mate who loved her totally and unconditionally. There were times like tonight, though, when she wished there was someone in her life who made her soul light up when she talked about him. Someone whom she couldn’t imagine waking up without.
“Having him there for you had to be wonderful,” Alex muttered and directed her attention to the storefront outside the car. The lights inside lowered to a dim glow, mirroring how she felt most days, as if she were functioning with only a partial charge. Only half alive.
“It must be closing time,” she said, trying to shake herself out of her woe-is-me state of mind. She was a fighter, not a loser.
“You’ll find someone, Alex.”
“I know,” she said, and popped the release on the door. “Let’s get out of this car and walk down by the water.”
She had to get out of here before things got any mushier.
“All right. We can do that.” Elle raised the top of the Mercedes, then exited the vehicle and joined her on the sidewalk.
A few minutes later, they strolled the docks, listening to the water lap at the sides of the boats. That was one of the things she loved about her sister. Elle didn’t require conversation. She enjoyed just “being” there for her as much as Alex did without the required heart-to-heart.
“I heard you’ve been training with Eve,” Elle said.
Or so Alex thought.
“That’s right.”
“Any reason for the sudden interest in mixed martial arts?”
“Just thought it was time, that’s all,” Alex said.
“Time for what?”
A straining, gurgling-like sound crested on the night air, bringing Alex to a halt. “Did you hear that?”
The noise was eerily familiar to what she’d heard when she’d been out with Eve and Guerin during a DEAD attack.
“No. What?” Elle stopped and surveyed the area. “Are you trying to change the subject on me?”
Another soft groan came from a few feet away, where a stack of storage crates sat just outside the glow of the scattered lighting. “That.” Alex nodded in the direction of the disturbance.
“Oh God,” Elle whispered. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Alex jogged ahead, with Elle right on her heels. Together, they rounded the stack of abandoned crates. Hidden in the shadows, a large male held another by his throat against the ground, his back to them. The trapped guy bicycled his legs. The effect impotent in his attempt to get away, as the smell of fresh blood permeated the enclosed space. This wasn’t your ordinary attempted murder.
This killer was of a different species altogether—a vampire.
Elle charged, grabbing the vamp by his hair and shirt and yanking him back. “Get off him!” she cried out. “You’re killing him.”
The male hissed and wrenched himself out of her hold. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, crimson stains smearing his mouth and chin, battling with the tangle of red hair clinging to his face. Even in the dark, thanks to their preternatural vision, the scene was a grisly sight.
“Get the fuck away from me!” He swung, claws extended, going for Elle’s head. But Alex leaped, catching his arm before it could make contact with her sister. He roared and snatched his wrist, trying to break her grip on him, and it was all she could do to hang on.
“Christian?” Elle’s voice was soft, hesitant.
His struggle ceased, and the vampire twisted his head in her sister’s direction.
Alex studied him. Christian? One of Marguerite’s former Calyxes? The one Markus had ordered to feed Elle after he’d kidnapped and turned her?
“It is you, isn’t it?” Elle eased closer, assessing him. “Oh my God. You’re a vampire? I barely recognized you.” She shook her head.
“Gabrielle?” He stumbled back and spun around. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt to wipe at the evidence on his face, as if that would make everything okay.
A slight gurgle came from the vampire’s victim, drawing Alex’s attention. “He’s still alive,” she said. Thank God. “We need to call 911 and get the hell out of here.”
“You could have killed him, Christian,” Elle snapped and moved in behind him. “What were you thinking? Do you want to become a mindless Death Euphoria addict—a DEAD?” She tugged at his arm.
“I was just so damned hungry,” he rumbled.
“Didn’t your sire teach you anything?”
He released a sick-sounding laugh.
Elle glanced at Alex, then Christian. “How long ago were you turned?”
Shrugging, he looked over at Elle. “A week, maybe.” He shook his head. “It’s all been kind of a blur since Enrique dumped me here. I’ve had to figure this shit out on my own.” He drove his bloodstained fingers through his hair.
“Enrique?” Alex’s heart stuttered, and she edged closer to Elle and the new vamp. “Enrique did this to you?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” he barked.
Adrenaline laced Alex’s veins, making her hands tremble. “Where is he?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” His fangs glinted beneath his upper lip. “The bastard put my ass on the street. You think he’s on my Christmas card list?”
“Whatever, you two,” Elle interjected. “We need to call an ambulance if this guy’s going to have any chance of making it.”
“Shit. You’re right.” Alex glanced back at the injured human. “Help is coming,” she whispered and quickly made her exit from the scene.
Elle called emergency services as they hurried back to the car. Once there, Alex opened her door and turned back to the others. With tattooed swirls circling his right eye and his wrists, and bloodstains on a ratty T-shirt, the dude appeared one part gangster and one part lost puppy.
“You’ve got to get rid of that shirt,” Alex said. He looked down at his front side. “You look like you’ve just stepped off the set of a Saw movie.”
Christian pulled the offending material over his disheveled head of red hair, revealing a wide expanse of lean muscle and a narrow waist. He looked a hot mess, but beneath the unkempt appearance, the male could have easily passed for an Olympic swimmer.
“What are we going to do with him?” Alex pinned Elle with a pointed stare.
“Hello?” Christian said. “I’m standing right here. I’m not an idiot. And I’m definitely not anyone’s damn charity case.” He started to march off.
Good grief. Alex sighed. “Hey genius,” she called out, and Christian slowed to a stop. “Where are you planning to go?”
He tossed her a look that said he’d rather claw his eyes out than give her the satisfaction of an answer. “Why do you give a shit?”
A part of her didn’t, really. He was acting like an ass. But he’d recently been in contact with Enrique, had lived with Marguerite and Markus when she’d been their prisoner, and he might possess valuable information about what had happened to her.
“Because you’re too new to be out here on your own without guidance,” Elle said. “Look what happened tonight.” She braced her hands on her hips. “You were mere minutes from turning into a DEAD.”
“What are you suggesting?” He faced them.
Elle’s worried expression said she was thinking the same as Alex. She wanted to take him back with them. Except Kenric would shit a brick if they brought someone into Enclave headquarters without vetting the male through him and Guerin first.
“Are we doing this?” Alex tightened her grip on the door.
“Okay. Stop talking like I’m not fucking here,” he said. “I got enough of that from Enrique. If you’re not going to include me in what’s going on then I’m out of here.” He tossed his hands up and started to leave.
“We have a place you could stay for a while,” Elle said. “That is…if yo
u’re interested?”
Christian drew to halt, glancing back at them once more. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll have to make a phone call first,” her sister continued. “But you were there for me when I was turned, so let me be there for you. I can’t make any promises, though. There are others who would have to approve of you staying with us.”
“With you?” Christian strode closer. “Are you suggesting I bunk—”
“With the Enclave,” Alex said.
Chapter Nine
Markus hit the guide button again on the remote control, searching for something, anything to take his mind off the clock. Alexandria had left with her sister more than three hours ago. He hated every damn minute she was out of his sight and his immediate protection. And this “sitting on the sidelines” shit sucked.
Strumming the fingers of his free hand on the leather arm of the den’s couch, he punched the button selecting the Syfy channel: a storm was brewing when suddenly a great white shark flew out of a tornado and consumed some guy in free fall from a helicopter.
“Oh, fuck me,” Markus groaned. “Seriously?” He tossed the remote across the room and shoved up from his seat.
Heavy boots trampling on the wood floors in the other room snagged his attention. Awareness sizzled inside his veins, and instinct had him smoothing a palm over his chest.
Alexandria had returned.
Following the sound, Markus strode into the large living space. Kenric and Guerin huddled near the fireplace in deep discussion about something. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, yet he didn’t have to look to know Alexandria had entered the room. But she wasn’t alone. Behind her, a familiar face cautiously made his way inside.
Christian.
Except the male didn’t quite look like the same Calyx he’d left behind at Marguerite’s estate. Instead of the well-kept blood donor Markus recalled, Christian resembled one of the dirty and half-clothed residents of the New York slums from more than a century ago, when Markus had been a boy.
Christian’s squared shoulders and erect spine conveyed confidence and a lack of fear. But Markus noticed the mix of trauma and desperation lingering in the male’s eyes. He looked much like the humans who had begged for a coin or a piece of bread.
Understanding the origin of anguish and worry in the expressions of the homeless from his past had been easy. Question was, what put that look in Christian’s eyes—or rather, who?
The redhead followed Alexandria, with Elle bringing up the rear. Markus leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, waiting for the story regarding Christian’s arrival to unfold. As if Arran had been expecting everyone, his former partner trotted down the stairs and greeted his mate. So the whole gang was gathering around the bonfire.
This would be good.
The new guy eyed the others one by one, but when his gaze fell on Markus, he came to sudden halt. “Commander?” His brow furrowed, and he took a hesitant step toward Markus.
Oh, give me a break. Like he didn’t know I was here.
“Christian,” Markus said, lowering his arms and pushing away from the wall. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The tall, fair-skinned man edged closer and that’s when his individual scent registered over the others. Blood and…vampire. Markus drew up short. “You’ve been turned,” he said.
“Yeah,” Christian replied.
“What happened?” Markus gave him a once-over. “You get tired of being the donor? Thought it was time you were the one with the fangs?”
“Markus,” Kenric warned. “Take it easy.”
Markus shrugged. “It’s a valid question.”
“I wanted it,” Christian said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
“Okay.” Markus nodded. “I get that. Then what’s your story? Why do you look like you’re about one gulp away from turning DEAD?”
“Enrique Mateo,” Arran interjected, drawing Markus’s attention. “That’s what happened to him. Gabrielle called earlier. She and Alex stumbled on Christian feeding and stopped him before he went too far. He said Enrique had done the deed and then dumped him on the street a few nights ago.”
Tendrils of foreboding snaked their way up Markus’s neck. “Enrique, huh?” Putting them toe-to-toe, Markus sneered at the newbie. “What would make him do such a thing to you?”
Christian met him glare for glare. “I don’t know. He’s a damn ass, I guess. Enjoys watching others suffer. Much like you and Marguerite, don’t you think?”
Something that felt like a smile tugged at Markus’s mouth. The kid had guts. But he wasn’t fooling him. Markus seized the other male by the back of the neck, yanking him hard until they were sniffing each other’s pores. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Red.” Markus’s fangs stabbed his lower lip. “Why the hell are you really here? What kind of game is Enrique playing?”
“For God’s sake!” Elle appeared at their side. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Christian spat, and groped at the hold on his neck.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Markus wasn’t about to let up. Enrique was after something. And he bet his ass Christian was his puppet.
“What makes you think Enrique has anything to do with this other than setting Christian up for a walk through hell as a DEAD?” Elle grasped Markus’s free arm.
“What’s the deal, Markus?” It was Arran this time. “Where are you going with this?”
“I don’t know what you think I know,” Christian chewed out. “Enrique can kiss my ass. There’s no game.”
Without waiting for permission—like that was fucking happening—Markus mentally drove fast and hard into the male’s neurons. Flashes of nameless faces whizzed by on the vampire’s recent bloodletting parade, until Markus spotted the image he sought. Enrique.
Conversations were too scrambled to be of any use. Since the male’s turn had occurred so recently, anything that had happened near the timeline of the event would still be an electrical rat’s nest. Yet Markus hoped he’d get lucky and Christian’s memories would reveal some clue or evidence as to the other bastard’s agenda. But it was a damn long shot.
The young vampire groaned and struggled against the rapid, forceful mental invasion.
“Markus…” Kenric’s voice sliced through his brain, but he ignored him. He had to know if Christian’s presence had anything to do with him or Alexandria. One thing Markus knew for damn sure, Enrique would never get his hands on her.
Various images of the male maneuvering around what looked like an apartment. Markus flicked that shit aside.
Christian on his back with Enrique over him—inside him—then the dark-skinned vampire behind Christian, thrusting.
Fuck.
Markus’s gut roiled. Those were scenes he could have done without. His own memories with Marguerite’s former commander were still too fresh inside his head. Markus barreled through.
Enrique’s face appeared beside the male, grinning—arrogant—ivory-white fangs fully extended.
More.
Come on. Give me something more. Show me what the hell you’re up to.
The Spaniard dove for Christian’s throat and the memory morphed to white static, as if the television station had suddenly gone off the air. Christian slumped.
“Son of a bitch.” Markus stumbled back, leaving the others to catch the new guy. The abrupt disconnect had Markus spinning. He grasped the nearby chair, steadying himself, and shook off the swarm of bees buzzing inside his head.
“Dammit, Markus!” Kenric slammed a hard palm to his chest, shoving him back a little farther. “Was that really necessary? The guy has already been treated like a piece a trash and dumped on the street. We bring him here with the illusion of safety, then within minutes, you’re playing Scrabble with his brain.” Kenric sighed. “He’s only days out of his turn. What the hell did you think you’d be able to piece together?”
Choking back hi
s rage, Markus swallowed hard before finding his voice. “I’m not buying his shit about Enrique tossing him out,” he bit out.
“Then come to me first before you take things into your own hands,” Kenric ordered. “We’re a team. Try to remember that.” The commander looked back, checking on their new arrival. Christian had recovered well enough and was burning a hole through Markus’s head with the flaming daggers of his glare. Kenric refocused on Markus. “Let’s talk.”
The Enclave’s master brushed past him and opened the double French doors to the library. Markus shot Christian one last kiss my ass look, rotated on his heel, and followed the other vampire inside the dimly lit space.
Four overstuffed coffee-colored leather chairs sat across from each other in front of the cold fireplace. Numerous books lined the windowless expanse of the walls from floor to ceiling. One of those ladders used to find novels on the highest shelf stood locked to its rail and shoved to the other side of the room.
“By the way, I like what you’ve done with the new place.” Markus performed a spin-and-survey maneuver before perching on the arm of one of the fine cowhide-covered chairs. “Have you added to your collection? It looks even bigger.” Markus spread his arms wide for emphasis.
“Since when did you start talking so damn much?” Kenric shook his head. “Before Marguerite, you hardly said two words to anyone other than Arran.”
“Well…” Markus began. “Being beneath—and on top of—Marguerite changes a man, wouldn’t you say, sir?” Markus smiled. “That is, if you survive long enough.”
Kenric grunted. “True. And rarely for the better.”
“My point exactly about Christian,” Markus said, and stood. “He’s been Enrique’s fuck buddy for God knows how long. They probably hooked up right after Marguerite’s demise and her Calyxes were left behind—if not before.”
“And you think Christian could be a threat to the Enclave because of his association with Enrique?” Kenric leaned onto the opposite chair and crossed his arms. “What would they be after? Enrique was Marguerite’s pawn, not the mastermind. After Eve, Guerin, and Alex’s run-in with him, I did my own investigation into Mr. Mateo.” Kenric stood. “My informants tell me he doesn’t have any significant following and appears to be keeping things quiet, staying mostly to himself.”
