by Susan Illene
His fangs stuck out, and he hissed.
This was not Griff. He was too thin, and he had red hair. Bartol started to cover the dirt back over the vampire, but it was too late. Fire began racing over the vulnerable man’s pale skin, and a gut-wrenching scream tore from his throat. Bartol rocked back on his heels, unable to do anything as the flames burrowed down under the soil to consume every last inch of the vampire. It was part of the magic and could not be extinguished once started.
The vamp twisted and turned in his self-made grave, his screams spreading throughout the woods and startling a flock of birds into flight. Sunlight deaths were not instant or painless, and Bartol felt guilty at the needless suffering he had just caused. He mumbled an apology as the vampire finally crumbled into a pile of ash. It had died for no reason other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time. If he’d been in the area legitimately, though, he wouldn’t have been hiding underground. No self-respecting person from his race would dig a grave as a hideout unless they were trying not to be found, or they were foolish and could not keep track of the sun as well as they should.
Bartol flashed back to Melena. “Not Griff.”
“You’re getting dirt all over my seat,” she said, frowning at him.
He brushed at his pants, sending flecks of earth onto her floorboard. “You sent me after a vampire who’d buried himself. There was only one way to verify his identity, and it wasn’t pleasant.”
She cringed. “Oh, sorry. I was wondering what all that screaming was about, but I thought you were just questioning him.”
“There was no time for that.”
“Damn.” She brushed a lock out of her face. “Now I feel bad.”
Bartol did as well, but it helped that he didn’t know the vampire and doubted anyone would miss him. He wouldn’t have been hiding underground if he had friends.
“It will be getting dark soon.” He glanced up at the sky, thinking he probably should have waited for sunset to check the vampire, but it would have taken too long. “I need to get back to Cori.”
“Okay.” Melena nodded. “I can get home on my own if you want to go now.”
“Are you certain?” Bartol asked.
He knew the sensor could take care of herself, but he still didn’t like the idea of leaving a woman alone in the woods. It seemed rather inconsiderate.
She waved a hand. “I’ll be fine. God help anyone who bothers me on the way back.”
“Very well.” He searched her gaze to be certain she truly was fine and found only confidence in her demeanor. “I will meet with you again at noon tomorrow.” That was the soonest the sensor could get away from work to help with the search.
“Sounds good,” she agreed.
Bartol flashed back to his cabin and took a quick shower. He did not want to show up at Cori’s shop covered in dirt. After he’d cleaned up and put on a fresh set of clothes, he relocated to her place of work. It was about an hour before she would close for the night, so he only found Tormod and a blond female at the front.
“So do you do tattoos?” the woman asked, running her fingers down the nerou’s arm.
Tormod gave her a suave smile. “I’ve been drawing some designs, but I might try my hand at the machine someday.”
The woman leaned forward to reveal more of her considerable cleavage. “You’re welcome to experiment on me anytime.”
Bartol remembered when women used to treat him that way, and he’d enjoyed every moment of it back then. Now he was glad they kept their distance. Seeing the way Tormod and the female acted toward each other seemed frivolous now. Not at all exciting like it once would have been to him.
He joined them at the counter. “Has there been any trouble?”
“No.” The nerou shook his head. “It’s mostly been a slow day.”
“Where’s Cori?”
Tormod pointed toward the back. “Finishing up a tattoo. It’s for that guy who got stabbed the same time she was attacked. He wanted to get it finished and the scar covered up.”
Bartol frowned. Micah had done what he could to patch the internal damage of Hayden’s wound, but the nephilim didn’t have enough energy left to fully repair the skin. It would have taken just long enough to heal that there would have been a faint scar remaining.
“I will go check on her,” he said, leaving Tormod to the blond woman.
They started flirting again before Bartol made it to the rear of the shop. He stopped in the doorway to Cori’s work room. She was leaning over Hayden’s bare back with her tattoo machine thrumming needles into his skin. Some of her dark hair covered her face, and she had a total look of concentration. Most of the work was done, so Bartol could make out a clear image of a reaper she’d created. The human man lay on the chair with his eyes shut.
“It is rather ironic you asked for a reaper and nearly died getting it,” Bartol said, leaning against the door frame.
Hayden’s gaze shot toward him. “Who are you?”
“Another bodyguard,” Cori replied, not bothering to look up from her work.
Bartol ground his jaw. Why did it bother him if she paid greater attention to another man when he was around? This was her profession, yet he hated that she couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge him with a look. He was here to protect her, after all.
Hayden angled his head to glance at Cori. “I thought you were kidding when you mentioned the mafia, but I can see you weren’t joking if you’ve got this much protection around to keep you safe. How many bodyguards does your friend, Melena, have?”
“Plenty,” Cori said, lips twitching. Then her expression sobered. “I really am sorry you got caught in the middle of that.”
She’d been the one to tell Bartol and Micah which story to give Hayden about what happened in the tattoo shop the day of the attack. Apparently, Cori and Melena had made a joke about the mafia prior to the incident, so she suggested they use that. It had been easier than compelling his mind with fabricated memories, especially since he would have a scar and need some reason for its existence. They used a similar story with the police to make certain it all matched up but told the authorities the death of the attacker had resolved the issue.
“I’m just glad we’re both fine,” Hayden said, then scrunched his brows as she moved the needles over his shoulder blade. “I really thought that guy was going to kill you.”
Cori was silent for a few minutes while she worked. “I’m surprised you were willing to come back here after that.”
The human man glanced at her again. “I couldn’t let anyone else finish the job, could I?”
Bartol stiffened. Hayden hadn’t returned because he liked Cori’s work. He’d come back because he liked her and wanted to see her again. This damn human thought because he took a stab wound for her that it entitled him to flirt with her. But what had he truly done? Lay there bleeding while telling her to run? How heroic was that?
Cori smiled at Hayden. “I’m glad a guy with a knife wasn’t enough to scare you off.”
“I do think I’ll take your friend’s suggestion and see about getting a bulletproof vest the next time I come in here, though,” the human joked.
Unable to listen to any longer, Bartol left the room. He strode up to Tormod—who was still talking to the blond woman—and gave him a censorious look. “I think it’s time you go home now. I’ve got it from here.”
The nerou took one look at his expression and swallowed. “Right.”
“Walk me out?” the woman asked, smiling.
Tormod turned to Bartol. “Is that okay?”
“Go ahead.” It was getting dark and probably best for the female’s safety anyway. “But go home after that.”
The nerou grabbed a backpack he’d brought with him. “Alright, see you tomorrow.”
Bartol watched the two young people walk out. After they were gone, he paced the front of the store. It took another twenty minutes before Cori and Hayden came out from the back. The human man was still smiling at her, and she was
laughing at something he’d said. It drove Bartol crazy to see her acting normal and nice with someone else. He also hated that he could not make her smile and laugh like that.
They stopped at the register and Cori ran his credit card. “I’m giving you a discount since you went through so much trouble to get the tattoo.”
“Thanks,” Hayden said. “But if you really want to show your gratitude, let me take you out to dinner sometime.”
Bartol growled. He was a breath away from finishing the job the man with the knife had started. It wasn’t like him to feel jealous, but he couldn’t seem to stop his murderous thoughts.
Cori glanced Bartol’s way, expression concerned, then turned back to Hayden. “Uh, yeah, maybe.”
“Seriously. You’ve got my number, so give me a call,” the human said, taking his credit card back and giving her an earnest look.
She smiled weakly. “I’ll think about it.”
They spoke for another minute before the man left. Bartol was so tense from keeping himself still and not attacking that it took a while after Hayden departed before he could move again. By the time he did, Cori had gone off to the supply room. Bartol found her in front of a large, square metal box with buttons and a small screen on it.
“I just need a few minutes to start the autoclave. After that, we can work on closing the shop,” she said with her back to him.
“What is an autoclave?” he asked.
Cori pressed some buttons. “It sterilizes my equipment, so I can reuse certain metal parts with other customers.”
“I thought you always replace the needles.” She’d mentioned something about that before, and how it helped prevent spreading infection.
“I do,” she confirmed. “But there are other parts I can’t afford to replace every time, so I put them through a sterilization process. Hospitals do the same thing.”
Bartol would have to take her word for it. He appreciated cleanliness more than most, but in this modern age they took it to another level he’d never imagined. “What do you wish to do about dinner?”
She finished with the metal box and turned toward him. “Think we can grab pizza?”
“I could eat that,” he agreed. In fact, it was one of his favorite meals.
“Good.” She gave him a smile that made him feel like he was the only man in the world. “We should be done here soon and then we can go.”
His previous anger fled. It occurred to him then that Cori might have been polite to Hayden earlier, but the human man was gone and she would go home with Bartol. The trouble with that was he didn’t know what to do with her there. Either he’d have to take Melena’s suggestion and try harder with Cori, or he’d have to make himself let her go. He wasn’t certain which option would be more difficult for him.
Chapter 23
Bartol
Bartol did one last survey of the woods before flashing back to his cabin. It was his habit to check the area after dinner each night to be certain all was safe for the woman he guarded. This evening had been more pleasant than usual because Cori had been cheerful and chatted with him about her day. She didn’t ask him any questions in return, though he’d found himself volunteering information about how his and Melena’s search had gone. It had seemed so normal that for the first time in a long while he forgot his troubles. How was it possible for the human woman to do that to him?
“Are you back?” Cori called out from the bathroom.
Since the door was open, he headed in that direction. “Yes.”
He found her standing in front of the sink, combing her wet hair with the new brush she’d bought during their shopping trip a few days before. She had a blue towel wrapped around her body. This confused him since she’d been careful to get dressed each time after a shower and before leaving the bathroom. He’d supposed it was her way of being considerate to him just like she hadn’t tried kissing him again lately. Why had she changed her behavior now?
“You are not dressed.”
She lifted a brow. “I thought you’d be gone longer.”
“I did not return that much sooner than usual,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “What sort of game are you playing now?”
Cori sighed, and as the breath left her body, the towel slipped. She turned her back to him to re-tie it, and he caught a glimpse of the uppermost part of her tattoo. It looked like the top of someone’s head with flowing hair. Mesmerized by the design, he found himself moving forward without thinking and tracing his finger across it.
“What are you…?” Cori shivered as he continued to touch her and glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see all of it.”
She ducked her head, but before that he caught the rare show of vulnerability on her features he found alluring. Her voice came out a whisper, “I don’t let anyone see it.”
“What would it take to allow me?” he asked. At that moment, he would have given her anything. He couldn’t have taken his hands from her right then if he wanted.
Cori didn’t answer right away. “Tell me the real reason you have intimacy issues because I know it’s not just from Kerbasi torturing you, or Lucas would be nearly as bad off.”
“It is not something you want to know, trust me.” If he could have expunged it from his own mind, he would have.
She half turned toward him. “Tell me anyway.”
“Let me see the tattoo first,” he said, pressing his palm to her back.
“No.” Cori shrugged him off. “If I don’t hold up my end of the deal, it would only take you a second to drop this towel and look at my back. If you don’t hold up yours, I can’t force the story out of you.”
She probably could if she tried hard enough, but Bartol would not tell her she had that kind of power over him. He wished she would have asked for anything else, but he also recognized that it might be good for her to know. Cori needed to understand why he wasn’t like other men and never could be.
“While I was in Purgatory,” he began, feeling her stiffen under his palm. “Kerbasi not only tortured me physically. He manipulated my mind as well. Each time I was taken for a session with him, he would steal an intimate memory from me. I would be forced to relive it, but with the horrible changes he made.”
Cori sucked in a breath. “What kind of changes?”
“He turned the women I had sex with into ferocious monsters and made me think they were the ones torturing me instead of him. One by one, over the course of nearly a century, he ruined almost every intimate encounter I’ve ever had so that few good memories are left. He made certain I would associate sex with being tormented and helpless.” Bartol took a step back. “That is why touch bothers me so much.”
There. He’d said it. Now she would know the truth, and why he was no good for her.
Cori’s eyes misted. “Why would Kerbasi do such a thing?”
“It was one of his favorite punishments because I slept with an angel. My memories of Clarissa were the first he ruined,” Bartol answered, doing his best to keep his tone even and simply state the facts. He did not want Cori to feel sorry for him when it was hardly her fault.
“Did you care for…Clarissa?” she asked.
“No more than I did for any of my other lovers. She passed the time, but that is all.” Bartol had already said enough about his past for one day, and he did not want to get into the same explanation he gave Melena earlier. That could wait for another time if he decided it was worth mentioning.
“Thank you for telling me,” Cori said, gazing up at him. “It means a lot.”
Then she turned away and dropped the towel. Bartol sucked in a breath, finally able to see the full design on Cori’s back. It was a vivid sketch of her daughter, Faith, done in black ink. The little girl’s hair flowed around her head, and she had the sweetest smile on her face. The artist who had done the tattoo even managed to catch the twinkle in her eyes. Bartol traced his way down from where it started at Cori’s shoulder blades to the inward curve of her lower ba
ck.
“This is beautiful,” he said, amazed by the design and the woman who wore it.
“I drew the portrait,” Cori’s voice came out soft. “But I had to find someone else to do the work for obvious reasons.”
“Why do you hide it?”
“Because it’s my shrine to Faith,” she explained. “I don’t even look at it, but I like knowing it’s there and that in a way she is always close to me.”
Cori turned to face him, letting Bartol see the rest of her body and her smooth, creamy skin. He grew hard in an instant. “You should cover yourself.”
She started to speak, closed her mouth, then opened it again. “What if there was a way we could be intimate?”
“I assure you there isn’t.”
Cori dropped her gaze. “What if I let you tie me up so you had complete control?”
The thought had crossed his mind before, but he’d discarded it because of her own trauma. “That would require you giving me your complete trust. You said you cannot trust men anymore.”
“I can’t—at least, not the ones outside of this cabin.”
Bartol worked his throat. “You shouldn’t trust me, either.”
“Would you promise not to hurt me?” she asked, staring up at him through her long lashes.
He wanted to tell her no, but it was rather difficult to do with her standing there like a siren out to seduce him. “I would never intentionally harm you.”
She gave him an intense look. Mere inches separated them, and he knew it took a lot for her not to reach out. Her fingers kept clenching and unclenching as though she barely held herself in check. “Then tie me up if it would help.”
Bartol wanted to grab her right then, but this was not a matter that could be rushed. He had to approach this cautiously. Though he might want her more than anything in the world at that moment, there were a thousand things that could go wrong. It was important he made the restrictions clear to her. He was broken, and she’d just offered a potential way for them to get around his difficulties and perhaps seek pleasure in each other. Bartol did not want to risk it going terribly wrong. Not with her, never with her.
