Tempted by Blood

by Laurie London

  “Wh-why? I’m not telling you that. You have me now, so leave her alone. She’s an innocent girl.”

  “If you want to hear why you and your cousin are in grave danger and what can be done about it, then you’d better tell me.”

  She would’ve thought he’d have stopped by the house first. Maybe he had and Krystal wasn’t there. Maybe she was at her friend’s house. Hope sparked in the pit of her stomach. If only she could get word to her, tell her to stay away, call the authorities. “And why should I trust you? You’re a…vampire.”

  “Because I’m the one who saved you.” There was that practiced smile again. “Remember me?”

  Like a dope, she recalled the hard plane of his chest pressed against her, his demanding mouth, the feel of his muscular shoulders as she’d wrapped her arms—

  “Yeah, I do. You tried to pull some mind-control thing on me and make me forget what I saw. In fact—” His words still rang in her head as he kissed her that night. The rich, lulling tone. Intoxicating her. “In fact, you tried to charm me as you forced yourself on me.”

  With the sweep of a hand, he brushed his blue-green hair from his face and she noticed it wasn’t pulled back like it had been before. “I do not force women. If you had wanted me to stop, all you had to do was step away.”

  “That’s not what I remember. You made me…want you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, the one with the tiny scar. “I didn’t make you do anything. You wrapped your arms around me of your own free will.”

  “Free will. My ass.”

  Laughter rumbled from his chest. He gripped the steering wheel and the snake flexed. If she’d had a black Sharpie right how, she’d have drawn Xs over its eyes.

  “Given the blog you just posted,” he continued, “it’s no doubt you remember everything else with great accuracy.”

  “You—you read Paranormalish?”

  “I didn’t before today, but I can guaran-damn-tee you that I’ll be reading it in the future.”

  Future? So that meant he wasn’t planning to kill her? That she’d be around to continue her blog? A huge sense of relief washed over her. But then, they’d obviously kept their existence a secret for centuries, so why would they suddenly let her blog about them. Something in this scenario wasn’t quite right—was he lying about the fact that she had a future?

  “I’ve kept my online identity a secret. How did you know it was me?”

  “Well, when I see my gorgeous mug on a blog and you’re the only one who was taking pictures of me, you do the math.”

  Last night, when she pressed Enter, uploading the article and photos, she had no idea that this was where it would land her. “So where are you taking me?”

  “To your cousin.”

  What was it with her cousin? “Krystal had nothing to do with this. You have to believe me. She doesn’t even know about Paranormalish and doesn’t remember anything about that night. She still thinks you broke up a gang fight.”

  He exhaled slowly, as if he was trying to stay calm.

  “You’re forgetting about the one that escaped. Plus, there are others.”

  A shiver snaked down her spine and she pulled her jacket tighter. “Others? Like how many?” When she’d started Paranormalish, she’d imagined a day when some of the things she blogged about were proven true, that people would finally sit up and listen to her. Realize that she wasn’t some delusional freak. The skeptical part of her doubted that would ever happen. How could she have guessed that having her dream come true was actually a nightmare?

  “Yes, and now that you posted this blog, you made it easier for them to track your cousin down.”

  “What does my cousin have to do with any of this? Besides, I’ve been very careful. They can’t follow my online footsteps. None of my followers know my real name or where I live.”

  “Your cousin is a sweetblood, a human with a very rare blood type, which is addictive. It’s highly sought after by certain unscrupulous members of our kind who want to profit from it. That’s why those men attacked her in the first place, for her blood. Now, because of that blog, you’re both targets. Darkbloods looking for her only need to find you. You’ve basically doubled the chances of them finding her again.”

  She was floored. Krystal was in trouble because of her. She brought the girl to live with her because she thought she’d have a better life, but what a terrible mistake that had been. “Who or what are Darkbloods?”

  “Those two guys who ‘morphed from shadow,’” he said, quoting from her blog.

  Knowing that he read what she’d written made her face heat for some reason. Which was silly. The blog was public. People she didn’t know read it all the time.

  He weaved through rush-hour traffic as if the car was half its size. “Is she at your place?”

  She debated lying to him, but he’d just head there, anyway. “What are you planning on doing to us?”

  “I’m fixing what wasn’t done correctly the first time.”

  Fixing? What did that mean, and did she really want to know? He was a vampire, so it probably involved blood. And his fangs.

  “Which is?” Her voice came out a little more high-pitched than normal, making her sound like an infant. Angry with herself, she cleared her voice and repeated the question, more forcefully this time.

  He darted a glance sideways. “Wiping both your memories again.”

  “Stay away from Krystal. She doesn’t remember a thing.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “And then what?” She realized she’d subconsciously put her hand up to cover her neck on the side facing him.

  He shrugged. “You’ll go on with your normal life without any recollection of me or other vampires.”

  He really wasn’t planning to bite them? She kept her hand on her neck, anyway. “And how will that help things? You just said Krystal is a target. If I don’t know the danger she faces, how can I protect her?”

  “That’s the problem with sweetbloods. Most don’t live too long.”

  She slumped against the seat. It had to be worse than contracting a disease or getting hit by a bus. She couldn’t imagine Krystal being attacked and killed at some random point in her life by those who’d want her blood. She wouldn’t be safe anytime or anywhere. Not knowing the risks in order to prevent them made her sick to her stomach.

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  “Living in the city isn’t helping. The vampire population is generally concentrated around larger cities because that’s…ah…where the largest food supplies are.”

  “Then we’ll move. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere sunny and warm. Like Arizona. No, California. I like the ocean breezes.”

  “That’s not going to be any safer, either. In fact, it’ll be more dangerous than living here. Because we’re unable to process the sun’s energy in our bodies, we must get this energy from you. In warmer climates where the UV rays are more intense, the energies in the human population are more volatile.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that vampires who live in warmer regions tend to be more aggressive. Sweetblood humans are better off sticking to northern cities where the UV index is relatively low year-round and staying away from the larger cities.”

  “Then you can’t wipe my memories. I need to make sure she gets out of the city. How will I know all this if I don’t remember?”

  “That’s not my problem,” he said flatly.

  She balled her fists and wanted to knock an ounce of caring into his thick head. “I get it. This is about saving face, isn’t it? You screwed up with me the first time, so now you’ve come to fix things. Are all of you as concerned about yourselves as you are?”

  He took the corner into her ne
ighborhood a little too sharply, running the tire up over the curb.

  “And my blog?”

  “What about it? We’ve already deleted the post.”

  And for the first time since he forced her into the car, Arianna was more angry than scared.

  “WHERE IS THE GIRL?” Jackson said as he walked through the garage door into a tiny kitchen and looked around.

  “I’m not sure she’s home yet.” Arianna brushed past him, grabbed a plate and set it in the sink.

  “Yes, she is, I can—”

  Arianna held up her hand, interrupting him. “Stop. I’m not sure I want to know how you knew that.”

  “I can smell her,” he finished, anyway.

  “Great. A bloodhound with a tattoo. And fangs.”

  He chuckled.

  “Who doesn’t listen,” she added under her breath.

  They walked down the hallway to the girl’s bedroom, where she was sitting on her bed, reading.

  “Krystal, you remember…ah…Jackson, don’t you?”

  The girl looked up and smiled. “Sure, from the other night out on the street.”

  He still couldn’t believe how much she reminded him of Betsy. Although her nose and eyes were different, it was the hair. The perfect ringlets. And that smile.

  It took less than a minute for him to be sure that she had no memory of him or of vampires. She indeed believed that she’d seen him break up a gang fight, just as he had wanted her to believe.

  “Are you here for dinner?” she asked.

  Now that he thought about it, he was kind of hungry.

  Before he could answer, Arianna piped in. “No, he was just leaving. He…ah…wanted to see how we were doing.”

  “You should stay for dinner. Ari cooks really good food.”

  Far be it from him to turn down a home-cooked meal. In fact, now that she mentioned it, he was really hungry. “She does?”

  “No, he really has to run.” She pushed him out of the bedroom.

  Once they were back in the kitchen, Arianna turned to face him. “See, I told you she didn’t remember anything. It’s just me.”

  He nodded and couldn’t help wondering what she was planning to have for dinner.

  “Hold on.” She held up a hand and backed away. “Since I know you have the ability to plant a mental suggestion, will you at least leave me with the compulsion to do what I need to do in order to keep her safe? I had planned to take her to a motel for a few days till things blew over. Maybe these…Darkbloods will have forgotten about us by then.”

  “Not likely.”

  Wiping Arianna’s memory would keep his people’s secret safe, but it certainly wouldn’t help her or her cousin. He should just do what he needed to do then get out of here, but for some reason, he wasn’t quite ready to end the evening. Instead, he brushed past her into the living room.

  Jesus, it was like a fishbowl in here with these huge windows. Anyone outside in the darkness could easily see what was going on inside.

  He crossed the room in three strides and shut the blinds. Glancing at the front door, he saw that the damn chain wasn’t even latched. What in God’s name were they thinking? Not that it would pose much of a deterrent to a vampire wanting to break in, but every little obstacle helped. Human or vampire, there were douche bags out there from both races. When he messed with her memory, maybe he’d tell her to keep these damn doors and windows secured.

  “What are you doing?” Arianna asked as he checked the dead bolt.

  It wasn’t locked, either. Angry, he spun around to face her.

  She stood, angellike, in the doorway to the kitchen, the light from behind illuminating the edges of her dark auburn hair. It tumbled in loose waves over one shoulder and he found himself wondering how it’d feel to run his fingers through the strands. Would they slide through easily? Or would they get stuck in her messy tangles? If braided, it would probably be thick like a rope. He crossed his arms, cursing his weakness for redheads.

  “Just making sure things are secure.”

  “That’s so damn noble of you,” she said bitterly.

  Definitely not an angel.

  “Listen, before you disappear into thin air, I want to know—”

  “I don’t disappear. I move quickly.”

  “Okay, whatever. But before you do your thing and leave, I want to know how you knew the whole Krystal-with-a-K thing.”

  “And what good will that do? I’m still going to wipe your memory.”

  “Because I want to know, that’s all. I’m curious—I was born curious. Is it so wrong of me to want answers even if I don’t get to keep them? That girl down there—” she jutted her chin toward the hallway “—means the world to me. I didn’t want her to have the same shitty childhood as I did, so I brought her here. The two of us are the only sane, unmedicated members of our family.”

  He’d definitely hit a sore subject. What happened to her when she was a kid? It couldn’t be half as devastating as what he’d gone through. He doubted she’d been responsible for the death of a sibling, then kicked out of the family as a result.

  Guilt tugged at his heart, threatening to unravel him. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be honest with her, given that she knew a lot already. “Because she said that to me when I rescued her the first time.”

  Arianna’s eyes went wide. “The first time?”

  “Yeah, I—”

  His stomach growled. Loudly. A laugh burst from her lips. Startled, he looked over at her. “Well, that was unexpected,” he said.

  “That better not be because of me, because…well…that’d just be wrong.”

  He meant that her laughter was unexpected, not his stomach growling—hell, he was always hungry—but this was okay, too. In fact, it was better. It meant she wasn’t as frightened of him as he would’ve thought she’d be. And for reasons he couldn’t figure out, he found that to be kind of…nice.

  “Tell you what,” he said impulsively, not quite ready to walk out of her life just yet. “Fix me a sandwich and I’ll tell you the story of how I know.”

  She looked confused. “You…eat regular food?”

  “Last time I checked, yes. In fact, I’ve been eating food since I was born. I like my steak medium, not rare. I’ll only eat salad if it has ranch dressing, no mushrooms or tomatoes. And I can’t stand seafood, any kind, but especially the raw shit.” He grimaced, put a hand to his throat. “Just the thought of it makes me want to gag.”

  He thought she was going to laugh again, but she didn’t. “So you guys are…born this way? Someone didn’t…make you a…?”

  “A vampire?”

  “Only changelings, kind of like hybrids, are made. The rest of us are born.”

  “What about…blood?”

  “Need that, too, but not very often.” Liar. He needed it way too often, as in every day, but she didn’t need to know that. The food should hold him over for a little while, at least.

  “What’s the catch?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The catch. You know, there’s got to be a reason why you’re so willing to talk. Are you planning to…you know…drink my blood or something.”

  Don’t tempt me. If only you knew how much I want it. And your energies.

  But then, if she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t be talking to him so boldly.

  “Nope. I’m just hungry. For food.”

  “So I won’t remember any of this? The attack the other night?”

  “Yep.”

  “But you can’t do that. Take away my memories. They’re mine and they belong to me.”

  “This isn’t a debate. I’m not going to argue with you. Vampires have been wiping the
minds of humans for thousands of years. I can either tell you what you want to know or not. But either way, your memories of us will be gone. If you don’t want an explanation, that’s fine. The process is fast and painless. I can be out of here in—” he glanced at his sports watch “—two minutes and be eating somewhere else in ten.”

  She paced to the other side of the room.

  He could’ve sworn her gaze slid over to the fireplace poker leaning up against the bricks. As if she could use that as a weapon to force him into doing something he didn’t want to do. Without much effort, he could take that thing from her before she even realized it was out of her hands.

  “Fine,” she said, obviously realizing that she truly had no other choice. “Since I’m not going anywhere as I had planned, I’ll cook dinner and you’ll talk.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ARIANNA’S TINY KITCHEN was clean, but cluttered. Almost every flat surface had something on it. Coffeemaker, toaster, canisters, utensils, loaf of bread, covered dish of butter. Painted a cheery yellow, it looked homey and lived in. Not sterile. He had a hard time figuring out where to put the foam cooler he pulled from the trunk until she told him to just set it on the floor next to the sink.

  “You can pull a chair in from the dining room if you want. Or—” her gaze skimmed over him from top to bottom “—if that doesn’t work, you can just hang out here. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  Without thinking, he pushed the toaster aside and hopped onto the counter the way he did back at the field office when he shot the shit with Xian. He thought he saw the corner of her mouth turn up as she pulled out items from the grocery bags. “What happened to your arm?”

  “A minor work injury,” he answered, crossing his boot-clad ankles. It felt comfortable, natural sitting here like this, watching her work. “What are you fixing?”

  “You’ll see,” she said, grabbing a large frying pan.

  “Just as long as you don’t use that thing on me.”

  “As long as you start talking, I won’t have to.”