Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2)

by Marie Johnston

  Rourke

  Book 2, New Vampire Disorder

  By Marie Johnston

  Rourke

  Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Elijah

  Editing by The Killion Group Inc.

  Cover by P and N Graphics

  The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental and unintentional.

  Rourke

  Book Two, New Vampire Disorder

  Grace Otto was a vampire child adopted by humans and raised in a secluded but loving environment. When she stumbles across their murders, she comes face to face with Rourke, the male who’s haunted her nightmares, who might have killed her birth family. It’s not long before she realizes the mysterious male is not the one responsible for her parents’ demise, but their pasts are irrevocably linked and she’s forced to leave the human world to find out how.

  Around Grace, Rourke dares to think of a better future, one that can overwrite his traumatic history. Until she unwittingly commits an act of betrayal that threatens her and their entire species. To save Grace, Rourke will need to hunt down the demons of their past.

  To all the readers who love brooding vampires as much as I do.

  For new release information, sneak peeks, and short stories, sign-up for my monthly newsletter.

  Chapter One

  They aren’t moving. No need to ask why. Even her young mind comprehended the violence she’d heard while she squeezed her eyes shut. Eerie stillness surrounded her as she opened her eyes to a tall, dark male stalking through the pools of her parents’ blood. His black eyes searched the room, but she lay hidden under the settee where she’d crawled once the screaming started. The shine of streetlamps reflected off his ebony hair every time he passed a window and shadowed the harsh planes of his face, making him look like the killer he was.

  Her sensitive ears picked up rapid footsteps outside. The breath froze in her lungs as his gaze swept over her hiding spot. Tears that had been imprisoned behind her eyelids rolled down her cheeks. He glanced at the front door, then back to the settee. With a nod, he strode out of the room and disappeared.

  A bell chimed.

  Grace Otto frowned. A doorbell? That had never been a part of her recurring dream before.

  Another chime roused her fully from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open. She heard the sound again and rolled over to answer her phone.

  “Hey, kiddo,” her dad greeted. “If you’re up for the night, why don’t you hit the Bullhead Trail with us?”

  She thought about his offer for all of three seconds. Record an online lesson she could do anytime or go hiking with her family who were the most awesome people ever? “See you in a forty-five.”

  A half hour later, she was dressed in her favorite Freemont-U sweater, a durable pair of jeans and her trail shoes. Her deep henna-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was the oddity in her family—a vampire. It didn’t diminish their love for her, the little two-year-old they’d rescued.

  Her mom, dad, and brother had all gone out to eat, leaving her home. The invite had extended to her, of course, but she had been up until well into midmorning working her at-home tutoring job. She hopped into her maroon Rav4 and drove straight to the Bullhead that wound along the river separating Freemont from its ugly step-sister West Creek.

  The lot at the trailhead where she was to meet her family sat empty. Perhaps they went… Where would they go at ten at night? Grace parked and stepped out. A thick cloud of blood hung in the air. Grace knew the smell. Knew it like her next breath.

  “Mom? Dad?” Panic rose as she searched the darkness. “Nathaniel?”

  She rarely fed from Nathaniel, but of course she recognized her older brother’s scent lingering in the night along with her parents’. Why would their blood taint the air?

  Funny how some memories rush back as soon as a trigger hits the brain. She was barely a toddler when her birth family was slaughtered. She didn’t remember much, just what her terrifying dreams showed her. But every drop of blood she scented flashed a slide show of gruesome images through her mind.

  She took off running, knowing all the trails well, and charged into where the blood fog was thickest.

  No, no, no. Could she find them alive and well when the aroma clogged her senses so significantly?

  The stench of shifter and sulfur hit her. She slowed and went into hiding mode, stepping off the trail into the trees. Their leaves offered little concealment during the fall, but it was all she had.

  Voices.

  “We need you to come out and look at this.” A male voice spoke with urgency. Grace inhaled deeply. He was a shifter and not the origin of the sulfur stench. She didn’t feel any menace radiating off the males. The way they walked and the way they dressed, she thought of a police SWAT team, only supernatural.

  “Vampires attacked a human family,” he continued. “but there’s something I think is your specialty. There’s a mile marker on the county road. If you’ve driven down this way before, you can just flash here.”

  Attacked a human family? No…it couldn’t be. Her dad had just called her…nearly an hour ago… She inched closer, worried they’d hear her chaotic heartbeat, until movement stopped her. Two others had arrived, vampires and both male. As they neared, she peered through the night to get a better look. Her jaw dropped and her lungs stalled.

  It was him. Her nightmare male was supposed to be imaginary. A figure that haunted her sleep, fabricated in the brain of a child. In real life, he was more imposing.

  He carefully stepped over a large object covered by the undergrowth.

  She squinted, trying to get clearer picture. A gasp caught in her throat, her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

  He had avoided her mother’s bloody, ravaged body.

  This couldn’t be happening again. Death. Him. Being helpless.

  Her mother’s throat was ripped out. Grace choked back a sob. The male’s head cocked, his eyes narrowed to scan the woods. She bit her lip, but not enough to draw blood, and held her breath. Another vampire, a large blond goliath, walked to stand next to the first male. They wore the same grim expression.

  The shifter she’d heard on the phone approached the dark male. Her male.

  “The crime scene is all yours. We didn’t touch anything, not after what we smelled.” The shifter trotted to the road where a charcoal SUV idled. Within seconds, he was gone, leaving her alone with the two males and her family’s remains.

  From her spot in the bushes, Grace tracked the vampire’s movements even though he was a hundred yards away. Only her loathing of the male, the one who embodied her nightmares, played the starring role in most of them, dammed her grief as he walked among the remains of her family.

  Had killing her birth family not been enough?

  His attention was drawn back to the body of her father, where it had landed after being flung by an unknown force, his throat ripped out. Grace blinked rapidly to keep her tears at bay.

  Oh god, her brother. The blond giant was looking up, and when she followed his gaze, she realized he studied Nathaniel’s body. His remains were strung over a heavy branch of one of the park’s cottonwoods and a tiny rivulet of blood dribbled through the bark. A tear from each eye spilled over to run down her cheeks. She shook with the effort of holding back a cry of anguish.

  The tall male she detested murmured something to the goliath. Both males’ demeanors were serious. Grace grudgingly admitted they appeared to take no joy in her family’s demise. They seemed as confounded as she.

  Together, the two inspected her dad. Her nightmare male retrieved a phone out of the pocket of his black leather pa
nts and snapped a few pictures. When he moved to inspect her mother, the blond circled the tree. Grace flinched when he suddenly jumped up to a large branch, and just as quickly her nightmare male’s gaze jerked up.

  She froze. Had he heard her, or did he think it was just the big male?

  Nightmare male stood frowning at the blond in the tree who was now taking pictures of her brother. His obsidian gaze finally returned to the body in front of him. As if satisfied, he stalked to the base of the tree cradling Nathaniel’s body.

  To Grace’s amazement, the blond carefully and respectfully lowered her brother’s body. Nightmare male caught him and quickly laid him next to their mother. Then both males hauled her dad to the line-up.

  “The Guardian told you where the car was stashed.” A voice like caramel washed over her, but was lost in her anguish.

  Her adopted dad had always told her vampires killed her birth parents. Regardless of her being a vampire, they’d raised her with love and acceptance, coloring her view of the world as being better than it was. She would not be fooled by this guy. He could be the most handsome male she’d ever seen, but she knew the black heart that beat in his broad, muscular chest.

  The big one walked to the road and when he reached it, hung a left. She wished she could follow, but they’d hear her.

  A whoosh of wind ruffled some loose strands of hair. She lifted her gaze off the goliath to find herself looking into a pair of jet-black eyes. As she gasped, she registered that she was wrong. His irises were not entirely black, but the dark brown mirrored her stunned expression.

  His gaze was cold, calculating, and directed on her.

  Eyes wide, heart pounding, she flashed away.

  Appearing next to her vehicle, she dug into her pockets for her keys—and dropped them.

  She stooped to grab them, but a brush of air caressed her bare neck. She shot up straight, prepared to fight.

  His reflection stared back at her from her car window, moonlight gleaming off his ebony hair. His head tilted imperceptibly as his eyes focused on her.

  Grace sucked in a breath. She couldn’t scream; it was futile. He was so close his heat radiated into her. If she wasn’t terrified of him, it’d snake into her and settle in deep on this cool night.

  Summoning all her strength, she shoved an elbow back into his gut. He easily deflected, and, oh shit, she was in trouble. She didn’t know how to fight. He’d been around three dead bodies and was stalking her without even an increase in heart rhythm.

  She flashed again, this time a mile up Bullhead.

  Her breath puffed in the autumn air, her breathing ragged. She blanched when he formed in front of her. His scent, free from the cloud of death and despair, surrounded her. He smelled…edible. Hickory chips smoking in the grill delicious. Her opinion was not on par with her body’s reaction to his scent.

  “Why were you spying on us?” He stood with his arms crossed as if patiently waiting for her answer.

  Involuntarily, she shivered. That voice! His smell! Coupled with his looks—he was dangerous on many levels.

  She flashed again, two more miles up the trail. Her logical mind informed her that he’d followed her twice already. She hadn’t even known it was possible.

  He appeared in front of her, an eyebrow arched. “Did you have something to do with the humans’ deaths?”

  At the mention of her parents, she went wild.

  For all the good it did.

  She punched, she kicked, she kneed. All easily deflected. He clasped her arms to pull her toward him and spin her around. Both of her legs pumped and flailed, trying to kick back into his shins or loosen his grip, but he restrained her like it was something he did every day.

  From his domineering presence and grim demeanor, maybe he did.

  He jolted her so hard her teeth clattered. It stunned her into momentary stillness. When she tensed to start all over again, he repeated the movement—harder. Her breath whooshed out.

  She struggled to inhale against his vice-like grip. He was an immobile wall at her back. Humiliatingly enough, she wanted to seek comfort in that wall.

  Tears pricked her eyes. She sniffled.

  His grip loosened, then tightened again. “Don’t think that’ll work on me,” he sneered into her ear.

  The dam broke and sob after sob escaped her.

  ***

  Rourke didn’t know what to do.

  The beautiful suspect’s tears were real. Not, oh I’m female and I’ll make you do what I want by crying nor I can’t tell the pleasure from the pain, Rourke. Release the cuffs. He heard the latter all the time. In fact, he strove for it.

  But this female cried for real. Her heart was broken. Had she known that family, been close to them?

  Her curly hair tickled his nose as her short ponytail bobbed with her sobs. Her presence at the crime scene became clear to him shortly after he’d arrived. Through the din of death, sulfur, and the shifters who’d called them in, her scent had curled around him. Lemonade after a hot night’s work.

  He fucking hated lemonade.

  Or he used to. Now he wanted a taste of her. Would she be sharp but sweet?

  His blood supply moved in a southward direction, but he cut off that line of thinking. Arousal did not happen unless he commanded it.

  Unfortunately, his pestering cock didn’t get the message.

  Tilting his pelvis back to not press into her, he discovered her shorter stature still allowed her to curve back into him.

  His damn arms didn’t seem to want to let her go. He forced his grip to loosen, and she slid down his body to collapse on the ground.

  His eyelids drifted shut at the sensation, but he snapped them open. Her legs were curled under her, her face buried in her hands while she continued to weep.

  Loss and sorrow pulsed from her.

  “You knew them.” He stated the obvious, but needed to say something.

  She nodded and inhaled a shuddering breath attempting to regain her composure. He silently cheered her on, selfishly wanting to see her gingerbread brown eyes again. Gingerbread brown circled her pupils.

  “Who were they to you?” he asked

  Her shoulders slumped, bringing his attention to her body. It was unlike him. In the field, he assessed everyone and everything with cold calculation. In his decrepit excuse for a personal life, he selected females based on their athletic frame. His bedroom activities required the stamina. He almost slept solely with vampires for that reason.

  While this little dove was a vampire, she sported the most uncommon curves found in their kind. He estimated her to be about five-six—damn near petite in the vampire world.

  She spoke, shaking him out of his inappropriate perusal. “They were my family.”

  He rocked back in disbelief. “Humans?”

  She made a disgusted sound he assumed was aimed at his reaction. “They adopted me after my birth family was—” she peeked over shoulder, eyes narrowed untrustingly on him, “killed.”

  Spoken as if it was his fault?

  He couldn’t hide his incredulity. “Humans adopted you. Did they know you were a vampire?”

  “Not every species are soulless murderers,” she murmured.

  “Insinuating vampires were responsible for your first family’s deaths.”

  “You should know.”

  His standard coolness returned. She had no idea. “Do you know who killed your family tonight?”

  She wiped her face off on her sweater. It was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. The bottom hem lifted to reveal a creamy swatch of bronzed skin.

  His blood supply plummeted straight to his groin. Inconvenient.

  “I don’t know. I was supposed to meet them to go hiking tonight. When I got to our meeting place, I smelled…” a frustrated noise escaped her, suggesting she was trying not to break down again and was pissed it wasn’t working, “…death, their blood.”

  He stared down at the living conundrum. A vampire adopted by humans. A petite va
mpire. He doubted she was also a suspect, but she might help them figure out what was going on.

  His phone vibrated. Rourke palmed it out of his pocket.

  Got her?

  He texted back, Yes. Clean up?

  Got it.

  Meaning Bishop had grabbed the car and would load up the bodies and dispose of them. They needed to protect the existence of their kind, even if it meant making a human family appear as if they went missing.

  The young vampire at his feet wouldn’t approve.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. The urge to crouch down and soothe her somehow struck him and…it was…odd.

  Nurturing, comforting, soothing and whatever else Thesaurus.com churned out did not describe him. He’d never had the interest. Some millionaire shrink with a TV show might suggest severe abuse as a child had hardened him against hurt.

  “Grace.”

  A beautiful, serene name for a crumpled, distraught female out in the woods.

  “Grace,” he repeated. The word slowly burned into his conscious.

  Maybe he should switch with Bishop.

  No. He shouldn’t. A surge of rage tore through him at the idea of another male alone with her. Grace peered up at him sensing his anger, a hint of fear in her eyes.

  The next emotion was regret, shame that he was the reason for it.

  Hellfire. These feelings going through him rivaled a human in the throes of puberty. He didn’t feel, period.

  “Are you responsible for killing my family?” The accusation in her tone; she’d already assumed the answer.

  The question struck him as absurd. “I gave up massacring humans decades ago.” A sharp twang of hatred lifted from her. Did she think he was serious? “Relax, angel. Killing defenseless creatures has never been my style, though humans wouldn’t show the same reserve for us.”

  She wasn’t appeased.

  He didn’t care.

  He shouldn’t care.

  But it bothered him. And it bothered him that it bothered him.