Sold [The Vampire Games 1] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Doris O'Connor

  He paused in front of her, and Evie had to reach out to him. He recoiled from her as though she had bitten him, put his hands up to ward her off, and this time his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  “Don’t. It all happened a long time ago, and my kids are long since dust. Even their descendant’s bloodline will die out soon.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  Atlan flopped next to her on the settee, shook his head, and sighed.

  “Come on now. You’re a bright woman; you can figure it out. Agnes’s maiden name is James, so…”

  A sick feeling spread in Evie’ stomach as the truth dawned on her.

  “Aggie is your…” She tried to work it out on her fingers, but it was too much to wrap her head around at that point, so she gave up and simply stared at Atlan in wonder.

  “Yes, she is my granddaughter several times over. After my untimely death, Hermione, my wife, moved in one lover after the other, and the house and estates fell into ruin after her death.”

  “No, that’s…no.”

  “It’s all right, my sweet Evie, I managed to buy this place back eventually, and I’ve lived here ever since with what’s left of my family.”

  He reached across to swipe away the tears streaming down her face, and she leaned into his touch.

  “Don’t cry, not for me. Not until you hear the full story.”

  Evie sniffed, sat up straighter, and nodded.

  “Fine, so tell me. What happened between your wife and you? Why did she almost kill you?”

  Atlan’s short laugh in answer sent chills down Evie’s spine.

  “Well, I was on my way home from the club, a little worse for wear. Thugs set upon me, beat me within an inch of my life, and while I was laying there, choking to death on a pool of my blood, Natalia appeared.” He gestured to the woman in the other picture. “She gave me a choice. She could save my life at a price. I didn’t have to think about it. I said yes, and then she changed me.” Evie held her breath, not daring to disturb this tale, even as that sick dread in her stomach grew thicker and spread upward, threatening to choke her.

  “I died and was reborn that night in that dark, damp alley. Natalia did try and warn me. There was no going back to my old life, but I foolishly thought love would win out. Why wouldn’t it? I had a wife, children. They would welcome me with open arms, wouldn’t they? Being alive, even like this”—he looked down on himself—“was better than being dead, right?”

  “Isn’t it?” Evie asked.

  Atlan shrugged and took her hands in his.

  “Right now it is, yes. Back then…not so much.” He lifted her hand up to her mouth and dropped a kiss on the back of it. “I went home, made love to my wife, and fell asleep.”

  That feeling of dread took over completely then, invading every cell in her body until breathing became difficult.

  Atlan sighed, pulled her close to rest his forehead on hers, and continued.

  “Breathe, my sweet angel. I can see you have figured it out. Hermione didn’t react too well to waking up next to what she thought was a corpse, let alone one who came back to life at nightfall. By then everyone had been informed of my death, so imagine the uproar when I turned up to not be dead at all.”

  He laughed grimly and swiped Evie’s renewed tears away.

  “She called me an abomination of nature, a freak, and then she shot me.” Evie pulled away in shock, and Atlan let go of her.

  “She what?”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders and got back to his feet to pace.

  “Not only that, because shooting will not kill a vampire, of course. As I was coming to she tried to take off my head. That will kill me for sure. I fought her off and disappeared. Not that she was content with that. She offered a large sum of money for my permanent demise. It meant I had to leave the country, and I traveled the world for a while with Natalia. She taught me everything I needed to know. How to survive as a vamp and avoid detection, but she too left me, eventually. Vampire hunters got to us, and she sacrificed herself to allow me to run. That too was my fault, because I trusted a human to keep my secret.”

  “Oh my god, that’s terrible. Hang on, those hunters are real?” Atlan laughed and Evie rolled her eyes. “Of course they are. You are real, so it stands to reason that they are real, too. Oh, what else is real?”

  “Everything, my sweet. Every myth is based in truth, and while most have died out by now, the supernatural world is all around us. Vampires, in particular, have a structure in place to keep everyone safe. The games, for those who can afford them, are part of that structure. There’s also a blood bank specifically for us, to avoid tragedies. See, we do try to be civilized. For the most part, humans remain oblivious to all of this, and that’s how it needs to stay.”

  Evie swallowed hard.

  “I see. Why are you telling me all this?”

  Atlan sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Because I wanted you to know the real me. Besides, you won’t remember any of this in the morning, and I want to paint you. Will you let me do that?”

  Chapter Eight

  She was so fucking beautiful, it hurt to look at her. Evie wore her emotions on her face. Atlan wasn’t sure what had prompted him to tell her his life story, admit to things he hadn’t talked about in years, but hearing this beautiful woman put herself down like she had been…something had snapped inside of him.

  Once he’d gotten her up here, had unearthed the paintings he hadn’t looked at in years, he’d simply had to tell her the truth about himself. Her tears—for him—had floored him completely. He had expected disgust, revulsion, fear even, not tears, quiet understanding, and her offering of comfort.

  “What do you mean, I won’t remember this in the morning?” she asked instead of answering his question. “What are you going to do to me?”

  Her pale skin flushed in her rising agitation. She rose and, hands on hips, glared up at him. His sweet Evie had never looked more beautiful to him than right now, here in this moment, her life force beating an erratic pulse at the base of her neck.

  “You said that you didn’t compel me, that you wouldn’t, so how then will I not remember this, us, everything you told me?” She ran out of steam when he shrugged. If looks could kill he would be dust right now, and she growled low in her throat. It was no doubt meant to be threatening, but to his ears, it simply sounded cute as hell. Not that he voiced that opinion, but she must have read his expression correctly, because she rounded on him and poked him in the chest with every word she uttered. “This is not funny, and, no, you don’t get to paint me until you explain yourself. Besides, you said you painted those two within a week of each other, but you can’t have done. You weren’t painting back then, were you? The first Atlan St. James paintings showed up in the fifties. I should bloody well know. I’ve been a fan of your work ever since we studied it in school, so something doesn’t add up here, you…oh…”

  Her words trailed off when he grasped her hand and sucked that index finger—seemingly determined to poke a hole in his chest—into his mouth and bit down. The sweet essence of her blood filled his mouth, and all the fight went out of the woman in his arms.

  “You’re not playing fair. I can’t think when you do that.”

  Atlan let go of her hand and kissed the full lips curved up in a half smile. The desperate way she immediately kissed him back, while she molded every one of her soft curves against him, meant he took the kiss much deeper than he intended to. By the time he broke away, Evie was breathing heavily, and he was so damn hard it hurt. Right now wasn’t about sex, however. He wasn’t at all sure he’d have the strength to let her go if he lost himself in the delights of her body again, and despite her murmured protests, her attempts to unzip his fly and to press closer still, Atlan put distance between them.

  “No.”

  His curt address finally seemed to get through to her, because Evie blinked and pulled away. The tremble to her bottom lip made him feel like a
complete ass, as she wrapped her arms around herself and stepped away from him.

  “So you don’t want me. You just want to paint me?” Her voice held a wealth of unshed tears, and Atlan sighed.

  “Of course, I want you. I’ll always want you. You’re my sweet angel, and the thought of sending you back out there into that world, to the likes of that shit brain Brian, fucking kills me, but you’re human and fragile, and you don’t need to be tied to a creature like me.”

  Evie sniffed, bit her lip, and took another step away, and another until the wall stopped her. Each step was like a blow to his soul, as she distanced herself from him.

  “Don’t mention him. He was a mistake I’m not likely to repeat. You were a fucking mistake. I should never have signed up to those bloody games.” Her voice broke, and she held her hand up to keep him away when he stepped forward to offer what little comfort he could give her.

  “I’ll kill that fucker for hurting you.”

  Evie gasped and shook her head.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Besides, his sort is not worth it. You are not worth it.”

  Atlan reared back at that statement, one he would have believed had it not been for the tears in her eyes and the waves of misery radiating toward him right now.

  “Do you know why you’re not worth it?”

  “I have a pretty good idea, but do enlighten me.”

  At his tight reply, Evie bit back a sob.

  “Because you’re a fucking coward, that’s why. I get you were hurt. I get you don’t trust easily, but we have something here. I know we do. I know you feel it, too. You never have a woman stay over. Agnes told me. She told me what that means. She told me of her hopes for you, and like a fool I allowed myself to believe. You wouldn’t do all this if you didn’t have some sort of feelings for me, and then you tell me all of this—you make me care, and then you simply want to push me aside. Paint me as some sick form of memento, and make me forget I ever met you? You don’t get to do that, do you hear me? I get a choice in this. It’s my choice and I don’t want this, any of this.”

  Evie stopped talking, turned her back on him, and started to cry.

  Big heaving sobs which tore at his soul, but also renewed his resolve. He would never forget his precious little angel, but she had a bright future ahead of her, without him.

  Taking a deep breath, Atlan steeled his resolve and his mind, as he held out his hand and summoned her. This had gone on for long enough. He would only hurt her more if he went through with his original plan to paint her. Not to mention, that her tears cut a path of fiery acid across his black soul. He simply had to let her go before he didn’t have the strength to do so. She deserved so much better than him.

  “Evie, listen to my voice. Come to me.”

  As though in slow motion, his girl turned, her eyes already clouding over in that misty haze which told him he had her in his thrall.

  “I love you, my sweet girl, but I have to let you go. You will not remember any of this. You will forget me and the games.”

  Evie sagged against him when he reached for her. Her eyes closed and she drifted off into the mind-erasing sleep, which would make her forget.

  Atlan lifted her easily, pressed a kiss to her forehead, rang the bell to summon his butler, and carried her downstairs.

  Joseph stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and Atlan could feel the full force of Agnes’s disapproving stare on the back of his neck when he addressed her husband.

  “Bring the car round, Joseph. Evie is leaving us.”

  “Of course, sir, but may I say, it is a shame. She seemed different.”

  Atlan closed his eyes and took one last deep inhale of his girl’s scent.

  “I know, which is why she needs to leave.”

  * * * *

  The bangs on her front door coincided with the pounding in her head, and Evie sat up gingerly. What the fuck was going on, and who was trying to bash her door in?

  She got the answer a minute later.

  “Miss Prewitt, open up, police. We know you’re in there.”

  Police?

  What in the world were they doing here? Evie scrambled to pull herself out of the brain fog she’d woken up in, and scowled at the clothes she was wearing. Why had she fallen asleep in a dress, let alone one she didn’t recognize as hers?

  “Miss Prewitt!”

  Another staccato bashing of fists on her front door forced her to her feet.

  “I’m coming. There’s no need to bash my door in.”

  She shuffled forward and winced when her bare feet stepped on something sharp and cold. Her keys as it turned out. What were they doing on the floor, and what’s more, why hadn’t she put the bolt on the door? She always used both the bolt and the chain.

  Not that her befuddled brain could make any sense of anything right now, as she struggled to unlock the door, and came face-to-face with a duo of uniformed police officers.

  The female smiled at her, while her male counterpart looked Evie up and down and smirked. If she had the energy she’d have thumped him for that look. Then again, hitting a police officer was no doubt a throw-into-prison kind of offense, and she so didn’t need that.

  “Miss Prewitt?” the female officer asked, and Evie somehow managed a smile.

  “Evie, please, and why are you bashing my door in on a…damn, what day is it?”

  The female officer sighed, and her partner positively glared at Evie.

  “Miss Prewitt, have you taken something? You don’t look very well.”

  That got through to Evie’s mush for brains, and she did her best to glare back at him. The fact that she was seeing two of him right now was so not helping.

  “How dare you. I’m not…oh, shit.”

  Her stomach chose that moment to rebel, and Evie just managed to dash to the loo before she threw up. By the time she’d stopped retching, washed her mouth out, brushed her teeth, and drank a gallon of tap water, the smell of coffee wafted around her flat.

  Okay, this morning—at least she assumed it was morning—was getting weirder by the minute because when she gingerly made her way into the living/dining/kitchen area of her flat, it was to see the female cop hand her a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Here, I thought you might need this. A bad night was it?”

  Male cop snorted from behind Evie, and when she turned around, having taken a fortifying gulp of her coffee, it was to see him looking through her bookcase.

  “Do you mind not going through my stuff? I’m pretty sure that’s only permissible if you have a warrant, and as I can’t think of one reason why you’re here, let alone why you’d have one of those, I—”

  “Miss Prewitt, Evie, we just have a few questions for you, that’s all. Tom didn’t mean any harm, did you, Tom?”

  Male cop, aka Tom, laughed and threw his hands up in the air.

  “Just admiring the literature, that’s all.” He grinned when he said that, and Evie fought a blush. So what if she liked steamy romance stories? That wasn’t a crime, last time she checked, and she didn’t have to justify her reading choices to anyone, let alone a balding, middle-aged cop. Typical, really, cops bashed her door in for reasons unknown, and instead of two hunks, she got this little and large duo.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Evie. My partner is right. You do look a little worse for wear.”

  Evie harrumphed at that but did sink into her comfortable couch. It was then she noticed that she wasn’t wearing a scrap of underwear, and she hastily tucked her legs under and brought a cushion to her chest for good measure.

  “I…well…that is, I don’t remember last night.” Evie frowned as she said that because it was true. The more she tried, the more of a gaping hole appeared in her memories. To say it was unsettling was the understatement of the year.

  “You sure you didn’t take anything?” Tom sat down next to her, and Evie was pretty sure he tried to look down her cleavage while doing so. She grasped the cushion a bit tighter to herself and glared at hi
m some more.

  “Quite sure. I don’t do drugs. Besides, I can barely make the rent, let alone fritter my money away on that sort of thing.”

  “Is that so?” female cop asked, and something about the tone of her voice sent alarm bells ringing in Evie’s head.

  “I only ask, because, according to your neighbors and your landlord, you seem to have come into some money, lately.”

  Evie couldn’t help it; she laughed. That was really too ridiculous.

  “Hardly,” she said.

  The female cop gave a tight smile and consulted her little notebook.

  “Then explain to us why you not only managed to pay off your rent arrears, but much to your landlord’s delight, you also paid the rent on this place upfront for the next year.”

  Tom’s voice held a distinctive edge of command, as he said those words.

  Evie’s head started to hurt even more, and a sliver of something crawled up and down her spine. Too fleeting to grasp hold of it, but it was there. She was missing something here, something important. Instead of voicing that feeling, she took another gulp of her coffee, and ignoring Tom, addressed female cop instead.

  “I did? Well, that’s news to me. I know I worked some extra shifts to be able to meet my rent, but…” She stopped talking and bit her lip, as flashes of scantily clad women appeared in her head. Oh good god, what had she been doing?

  “Yes, about that extra work. It wasn’t in the restaurant you work at, was it?” female cop said, all pretense of friendliness now gone.

  “I, that is…I’m sure I have no idea what you are implying here. What is this all about anyway?”

  “We’re coming to that, Miss Prewitt,” Tom said next to her. “Just answer the questions.”

  Evie put her cup down and chewed on her bottom lip.

  “No, I won’t. Not until you tell me what this is all about, and what gives you the right to look into my financial affairs.”

  “Show her the pictures, Tom.”

  Male cop shoved a small tablet under her nose, and Evie gasped when she looked into the beaten and battered face of Brian. Another sliver of something cold and nasty slid down her spine, a memory just out of her reach.