Like a total loser.
He looked so peaceful, like he didn’t hate the world or hate his position within it.
I tapped my fingernails against the glass in my hand, tempted to wake him up almost as much as I was tempted to watch his beautiful face. He was breathtaking, the type of hot that girls gossiped about. Strong jaw, full lips, perfect face. Damn, the man looked like he didn’t have a scar on him. But I’d seen his back; they were just hidden, expertly so, as if someone had beaten him every day of his life only to make sure nobody ever found out.
I cleared my throat.
He didn’t move.
Setting the glass down, I walked over to him and poked him in the shoulder with one of the pens lying on the table.
He jerked awake.
And instead of yelling at me or cursing, he simply pointed a gun at my head.
I jolted back.
“Bee?” He set the gun down. “Damn it, don’t sneak up on me.”
“Then don’t moan my name in your sleep!”
His face paled. “I was saying your name?”
I grinned as a surge of triumph washed over me. “Guess you’ll never know. By the way, we have school tomorrow, so you should probably go to bed.”
“Sleep.” He pushed away from the table and stood, his body cracking as if he was ancient rather than in his early twenties. “Right.”
“I could always keep you company,” I offered. “Like we used to—”
“Hell, no!” He stomped right past me, nearly knocking me against the granite countertop. “Go to sleep, Bee.”
“Right.” I swallowed, all excitement from his earlier reaction flew out the window. “Night, Phoenix.”
The only sound left was that of his footsteps banging on the stairway and the slow drip from the faucet.
I sank onto the chair he’d just vacated and glanced at the paperwork in front of me.
It looked like gibberish. Lots of numbers, names, contacts, off-shore accounts. Really, none of my business.
I pushed some of the pictures around; my fingers hovered over one of a girl who’d been badly beaten.
She looked familiar.
After a quick glance at the doorway to make sure Phoenix wasn’t coming back, I picked up the picture.
Trace Rooks, now Trace Abandonato.
She looked horrific.
I put the picture down and picked up the next one. Bruises lined her ribcage.
Was this what Phoenix was protecting me from? Some sick bastard getting his hands on me or using me against my own brother?
With a shudder, I picked up the final picture; a sticky note was attached to it. “Fingerprint match with Phoenix De Lange — watch list.”
Gasping, I dropped the picture back onto the table.
“So,” a hoarse voice said from the doorway. “Now you know… Those invitations you keep throwing out may as well be labeled monster. I highly doubt you want that anywhere near your bed. Sleep, Bee.”
Phoenix grabbed a bottle of water from the table and left the room.
He did that?
To Trace?
But why? Why would he hurt a girl? A woman? And how did Nixon let him live? A tremor of unease wracked my body.
I lay down knowing full well sleep would elude me, not because I wasn’t tired. I was exhausted. But images of Phoenix hurting Trace seemed to be the only thing my brain would focus on.
By the time I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t even bring myself to be chatty. I grabbed a granola bar and went to the car where Phoenix was waiting.
The drive to school was painfully silent.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Can I at least ask why?”
“Why?” He turned off the ignition. A muscle popped in his jaw. He knew damn well what I was asking him.
“Why did you beat her up?” My voice sounded so foreign and small; long gone was the teasing of yesterday.
He snorted. “I didn’t just beat her up. I damn near raped her. Is that what you wanted to hear, Bee? That I’m the monster that goes bump in the night and steals girls’ virginity?” He shook his head and slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “The sooner you stop looking at me like I’m your hero the better off we’ll both be.”
I swallowed, desperate to get rid of the giant lump in my throat. “And how am I supposed to look at you?”
He turned slowly, his eyes meeting mine. “Exactly how you are right now. Like I’m a monster. Because I am. Now get out of the car before you’re late for class.”
I scrambled out of the car, more out of irritation and anger than fear. He’d almost raped her, and, no matter how many times I tried to come up with a reason for him doing something so horrific, all I could decide was that he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
The Phoenix I knew, while scary, didn’t seem capable of doing those things to Trace, to his best friend’s wife.
The Phoenix I knew had stood in front of me when the first gunshot had rung out, when my father had returned from one of his drinking binges and pointed the gun at my forehead, a regular occurrence, since, according to him, I resembled my cursed brother too much.
Phoenix was a protector not a monster.
To me? Never a monster.
But the evidence was there, in pictures — graphic pictures. I should stop asking questions, stop wanting to claw at the truth.
His answer hadn’t made me less curious.
Or less hesitant to want to find out what made him tick.
If anything, it had fanned the flame. Yes, I was disgusted and fearful, but there was more to the story; otherwise, he would be dead.
My own brother trusted him.
So by default — I trusted him.
I just wished I knew, after seeing all that, why I still did.
And why I still wanted to.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Back to where it all began…
Sergio
I STRAIGHTENED THE PAPERS on my desk and watched the clock like it was a damn grenade. Each tick may as well have been someone chanting pull… pull… pull.
Students shuffled in the classroom, most of them looking more innocent than what I expected from an Eagle Elite freshman. I suddenly felt extremely ancient, like I was one unfortunate sneeze away from having to replace my hip and go on blood thinners.
“Yo.” A kid nodded at me.
Shit, did I look like his homie?
“You new?”
No. Old. So. Very. Old.
“Find your seat.” I barely restrained myself from barking at him then pulling out a gun just to see if the kid would really shit his pants. Then again, it would probably just solidify that whole homie statement.
Groaning, I pinched the bridge of my nose and waited for the rest of the students — kids, young ones with less chest hair than my aunt — find their seats and wait for me, their new teacher to open his mouth.
A few girls giggled.
I hated giggles; it was as bad as having to watch Tex and Mo hump one another during family dinner. The giggles continued — okay, so it was almost as bad.
I checked my watch one last time and cleared my throat. “I’m Mr. Thomas. I’ll be your professor for US History this semester.”
Blank stares.
Yeah, this was going to be absolute torture. I started handing out the syllabus and waited for the inevitable, a hand to pop up.
I had already calculated who it would be.
The girl or guy who had something to prove, teacher’s pet, not a hair out of place, and probably still a virgin. Yay me.
One, two, three, four — ah, and there it is, ladies and gentleman. A hand popped up from the back of the class.
I kept my smile to myself and barely managed to keep a mocking laugh in. The hand belonged to a girl, but I couldn’t see her face; she was too small, hidden behind a kid who looked like he was once a defensive lineman.
“Yes?” I tilted my head. “Please stand while you ask your question, Miss…?”
> “Oh!” She popped out of her seat, knocking a book to the floor and nearly tripping over her own feet. So maybe I was wrong after all.
She blinked overly large brown eyes in my direction as if she was confused as to where she was and tucked a piece of white-blond hair behind her ear. She looked like she belonged in the elf kingdom of Lord of The Rings. Her features were seamless, perfect, from her petite bow-shaped lips to her little button nose.
Beautiful.
“Yes?” I said hoarsely. “Your name and question?”
“Andi,” she said slowly. “And I was wondering if you would be keeping track of attendance. It doesn’t say on the syllabus and—”
“Planning on skipping class, Andi?”
“No, but—”
“Is your education not important? Tell me, how much money does it cost to sit in one of these chairs over the course of twenty-four hours?”
Another hand shot up.
“Yes?”
“Eight-hundred-and-seventy dollars a day, sir.”
“Bingo.” I didn’t take my eyes away from Andi; couldn’t if I tried. “So you tell me, Andi, would it be in your best interest to throw away that type of money?”
“No.” Her lower lip trembled. “No, sir.”
“Good answer,” I said in a low tone. “Now, any more questions about the syllabus?”
“But…” Andi raised her hand again, still standing; the rest of the class groaned.
Surprised, I arched my eyebrows as I stared at her. “But what?”
“Um…” She twisted her hands in front of her. “I, um, I have a condition, and sometimes I need to skip class because of it.”
Her cheeks turned a dull shade of red.
The class burst out into hushed laughter while I continued to stare her down. “Condition?”
She nodded.
“See me after class, Andi.”
With a quick nod, she finally took her seat, and I was free to discuss expectations to the rest of the class. While I talked and they listened, or pretended to listen, I did a mental checklist of each individual: none of them posed a threat, but two of the guys sitting in the front row liked to hang around Pike and his friends, which meant they were officially on my radar, a place nobody should want to be, if they wanted to live to see graduation day.
An hour later, I was dismissing class, and Andi was making her way toward my desk. I studied her movements: the light airy way she walked, the sway of her hips, and the closed-off expression on her face. Her eyes really were huge; a guy could get lost in those eyes.
A guy much younger.
Much more available and not currently pretending to be a teacher in order to possibly order a hit on a drug family.
“Sir…” Andi stopped walking and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry for interrupting your class and asking silly questions. It’s just my condition.”
“Yes.” I gave a curt nod. “Your condition? Do you have a doctor’s note?”
“Well, the doctor doesn’t know I’m a vampire, and that may be weird so…”
“Huh?” I blinked.
She grinned. “I was kidding… making a joke.”
“Ha,” I said dryly. “Now, your condition?”
Andi heaved out a sigh. “Sometimes I get sick and can’t make it to class. I’ve already spoken to the campus nurse. I’ll be sure to get you a note explaining the details.”
“Why don’t you explain the details?”
“Talking about your own death is kind of a mood killer for the second day of school.” She shrugged. “But if you’re asking about my terminal condition…”
“No.” I held up my hand, feeling sick to my stomach. What kind of monster had I turned into that I couldn’t be sensitive to something so serious? “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“Do what?” I stood and started packing the extra pieces of paper into my briefcase.
“Pity me,” she said softly. “I get that enough from my dad. Pity just makes it worse… but feel free to be grumpy like you were before. Makes me feel more normal.”
Chink. Was that the sound of my armor breaking?
With a gulp, I turned to face her again. “So you want normal treatment?”
Her shoulders sagged with relief.
I fought a smile. “Then get the hell out of my class. I have more important things to do.”
Her grin damn near brought me to my knees. “Thanks, sir.”
“Anytime,” I croaked and stared as she bounced out the door. I continued staring at that same door for at least five minutes and tried to figure out why I suddenly felt off-balance, like the world was tilting and I was standing still.
Low blood sugar.
Not interest.
And definitely not attraction.
After all, she was as good as dead.
And so was I.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Squirrels piss Phoenix off — note to self.
Bee
THE ONLY BRIGHT SPOT in my day was when Chuck, the woodland creature I’d befriended, followed me to class or at least tried to until Phoenix told it to screw off.
He didn’t just rain on parades; he freaking hurricaned them, and then when that didn’t work, he stomped around and made obscene gestures with his gun. It seemed no matter what I did that morning, it pissed him off.
I tried giving him a granola bar as a peace offering, and he threw it in the trash.
When I tripped over my own feet, trying to get into the building on time for my morning classes, he told me to watch where I was walking, and that if I tripped again, he was going to put me in a wheelchair and push me down a hill.
My last class of the day was a human anatomy and physiology lab that had me ready to puke into my brand new boots and take off running in the other direction.
But it was a Gen-Ed, so if I wanted to please my brother and not make Phoenix want to strangle me, I had to walk into the classroom.
My feet froze as I stepped through the doorway.
“It’s just another class, Bee.” Phoenix sighed. “A few more steps and you can find your seat. A few more steps after that and you can sit down.”
“I don’t like blood,” I whispered, feeling my face go pale just thinking about it. Would I have to dissect things? Holy crap, was the room swaying? And why in the heck were there pictures of parts on the wall? Human parts. A pair of lungs, a stomach, a heart. Dear God, I was going to lose my breakfast, lunch, and possibly not be able to eat dinner.
I swayed again.
Phoenix gripped my arm in his hand and walked me over to an empty desk.
“Bee?” He cupped my face with his hands, his blue eyes laced with concern. “Bee, are you okay?”
“I don’t like blood.”
“You said that.”
“It should stay inside the body.”
“For the most part, it does.” His smile was small, inviting.
I leaned in until my forehead touched his chest.
He tensed but didn’t push me away; instead he patted my back awkwardly. “You think you can handle sitting in here for forty-five minutes? I have it on good authority you won’t be cutting anything up today.”
I jerked back and covered my mouth with my hands.
He let out a low chuckle. “Okay, so no mention of parts or blood.”
I shook my head no, which only made the room spin faster. Right, I talked a big game about being violent and taking care of myself, but I was pretty confident that if I had to actually follow through, I’d be more traumatized than I was willing to admit.
“Blood isn’t all bad, Bee.”
“Not helping,” I said through my hands.
“Blood…” Phoenix leaned in. “…pumps through your body, keeps you alive.” He reached out and grabbed one of my hands then turned it around, his fingers tracing the inside of my forearm. “Look at the blue lines… the lines that carry your blood, the miracle that’s life. Here’s the t
hing, Bee. You should never be afraid of something that gives you life, purpose, meaning. This blood—” He tapped my skin with his fingertips. “—holds every part of you, and look, it’s on the inside, where it belongs. Nothing to fear.”
“Nothing to fear,” I repeated in a wobbly voice.
“Right.” He pulled back and popped his fingers then flexed his hands a few times before scooting his chair away.
“Phoenix?”
“What?” He didn’t turn to look at me.
The professor walked in and turned down the lights as the PowerPoint presentation started.
“What are you afraid of?”
He cursed under his breath, still not meeting my eyes. “That’s one secret I think I’ll keep to myself.”
“Bees?”
He pressed his lips together, but a smile escaped. “Yeah, I’m scared of getting stung.”
I smiled back, even though he wasn’t looking at me, and whispered so only he could hear. “Well, the good news is I don’t sting.”
He sighed. “But you do. You just don’t realize you’re doing it.”
Phoenix scooted his chair away.
And that was the end of the conversation. I wondered if I’d made it up, the little moment we shared.
But, at the end of class, he was different, not as distant, not as… sad.
“Bee!” Pike rushed toward me. “Hey, you going to Freshman Retreat this weekend?”
“Yup.” I took a step closer to Phoenix. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Pike eyed me up and down. “Can’t wait.”
Phoenix coughed.
Pike rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Or are you not taking the bus?”
“I’m taking her,” Phoenix barked.
“Easy.” Pike held up his hands. “Geez, Bee, think you could tell your guard dog to lay off a bit? At least give him a treat or something.”
Phoenix lunged toward him.
Pike stumbled backward and laughed. “Easy dude. Bee, seriously, put him on a leash.”
In a flash, Phoenix was reaching for his gun.
I moved to stand in front of him and forced a laugh. “See ya later, Pike, we have a thing we have to get to.”
“Right.” He nodded then walked off.
Ember Page 9
