Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2)

by Marie Johnston

  “Don’t hurt them.”

  “Why on earth would you think that?” His innocent tone missed the mark.

  “We’re faster and stronger. We can get away.” Defending herself was one thing, senseless violence against humans wasn’t in her plans for the night.

  “Ma’am.” The guard’s shadow fell across her. She sped up, indiscriminately pushing the young and old out of her way.

  Osiris released her arm and confronted the guard. She only heard syllables muttered, but whatever he said stopped the guard’s pursuit. What were the chances Osiris would only trance him and not cause bodily harm?

  Picking her pace up to a trot, she wove through the carnival trailers, frantic to get to a concealed area she could flash from.

  A dark form curved around one of the trailers. It was the human, her botched meal from the other night, and he was pissed.

  “I don’t know what your boyfriend told the guard, but I won’t let you go so easily.”

  Stupid, idiotic, moron. “You need to leave,” she hissed. “I don’t know what he’ll do to you.”

  A moment of indecision passed through his features. Not even he could argue with the sincere desperation in her voice.

  “Y—You beat the shit out of me.” He backed up when Grace sensed Osiris approaching behind her, a masculine presence similar to Rourke. “I knew you’d come back to prey on another Joe. I came every night to stop you.”

  His misplaced valor might get him killed.

  Osiris stalked past her, but she slapped her hand on his chest. A growl escaped, vibrating under her fingers.

  “As you can see,” she tried to catch the man’s eye for any persuasion she could use, “I’m tricking no one tonight, but you might get hurt again. Leave, while only your pride is damaged.” And seriously, she hadn’t mugged him for real.

  Osiris’ hard chest quivered, like he’d been predicting serious violence and she’d thwarted his anticipation. His powerful muscles didn’t turn her on in the slightest. If it had been Rourke’s chest she was attached to, well, it’d be a different story.

  The guy’s eyes darted back and forth between her and Osiris. Anxiety wafted off of him in increasing quantities. Eventually, it won over male ego and he took off back around the trailers.

  She dropped her hand from his chest. Osiris snatched it up and nipped at her finger.

  A yelp escaped her. She tugged her hand back to her side.

  His chuckle irritated her as much as it filled her with alarm.

  “Grace. You’re a puzzle. One moment, I could swear you’re terrified of me, the next, you act like you could take my head and drop kick it across the room without raising your pulse.”

  But all the moments with him scared her. “I’d like to see my parents now.”

  “Alas, I cannot go with you in case Ozias smells me on you. Therefore, I’ll take your oath before I give you the address.”

  “That’s not how this was supposed to work.”

  “Grace.” His tone and his nearly black eyes were full of warning.

  “Look. I can’t afford to be stupid. Yes, I’d love to find out my parents are alive. But it’d be terribly impulsive if I trusted you completely, just like it’d be rash if I accepted everything Rourke tells me.”

  “Rourke.” He bit off the word with complete hate. “He goes by that name to fool people. Did you know that? I hear no one mention the commoner Rourke, who was accepted into the inner ring of Demetrius and his prime fold. Why? Because he won’t own up to who he really is and lets everyone assume he has a fancy-dancy prime last name.”

  Rourke didn’t spill his first name readily, so she shouldn’t trust him about anything? Did Osiris think she was born yesterday?

  Of course, if he was older than Rourke, she was much, much younger than him.

  Osiris snatched her arms and dragged her close. Eyes wide, she swallowed hard when her gaze landed on black, soulless irises.

  “I’m being more than patient with you, Grace.” A wild beast had replaced Osiris. Even his voice had dropped to a guttural rumble. “If you want to see your parents alive, you need to swear to me you’ll do as I say.”

  Fighting against panic, she steadied her words. “Isn’t Rourke the danger to them.”

  The demon within Osiris lowered his head, his hot breath caressed her face. She wanted to vomit.

  “I’m not as gullible as my host Osiris is. You’ve been playing him. I can smell his brother on you.” He sniffed again like he was tasting her, and she felt it. She shuddered. “I can smell him in you. I would bet Osiris’ left nut you’re his brother’s true mate.”

  She stiffened. True mate? But Rourke didn’t feel it, or he didn’t act like it. Her mind clicked through all the info she’d learned with Calli. Once true mates crossed paths, they couldn’t get aroused by any others and feeding became an issue.

  Maybe true on her end, but his?

  The demon shook her, yanking her attention back to him. “I repeat, your parents’ life for your words. It’s simple.”

  “What will those words do?” Terror laced her whispered question.

  “Let me know I can trust you.” The black grew to encompass the whites of Osiris’ eyes.

  “H—How?”

  He bared his fangs. “Say them, or they die.”

  Tears welled. She’d been too young to save the two she thought were her mom and dad, but they had died saving her. She’d been too late to do anything about her human parents and brother. This demon offered her another opportunity, but it came weighted with many unknowns—and none of them good.

  The demon breathed into her ear. “I know you don’t believe Osiris. I know you think he killed the humans. And you’re right.”

  The tears spilled, streaking fire down her cheeks. Having it confirmed made it real. “Why?”

  She jerked back when he licked a tear off her cheek. Her arms were still in his iron grip; she’d have bruises for hours before she healed.

  “Because of you.”

  The struggle drained out her. “Osiris said Rourke was involved.”

  “For him, yes. For us, we wanted you.” He grinned broadly. “And here you are. Unless you want more of your loved ones to die, including that little boy you think you can save?”

  No, not him, too. Her eyes squeezed shut.

  “Yes, Grace. Him, too. Repeat after me.”

  ***

  Rourke roamed through the lower level of the upscale estate, noting important details. Class oozed from the furnishings and the expensive decorations, even through the blood splattered across them.

  Creed and Zoey had arrived with him, but they’d split to search all the levels. These kinds of dwellings, the ones of the rich and powerful vampires, were mansions with a large, stately outer appearance. The mansions were used to conduct business during the night and contained at least one ornate level below for daytime.

  Two bodies were in the lower level. Vampires who’d been ripped apart and drained of blood like it’d been shaken out of them.

  Creed approached from behind, his usual jovial expression grim. “The servants were wiped out. Two maids and a butler. I’d say they didn’t know it was coming. The butler and one maid were still in bed. The second female was felled at the door of her bedroom. She must’ve heard something wrong and got up to investigate. The perpetrator took out the prime mom, dad, and daughter first.” He pointed to the remnants as he mentioned them. “Then took the servants by surprise. They fought back the best they could, but it did no good.”

  “How’d the servants die?”

  The male scratched the back of his neck and scanned the gruesome scene. “Ugly, but more merciful than the primes. He incapacitated them before he beheaded them.”

  Rourke nodded. The primes had suffered. The limbs were ripped off, and if Rourke read the damage to the arms correctly, he’d say the victims were beaten with them before being graciously beheaded.

  Whoever carried out the killings either did it for sport and wanted
the gruesome evidence discovered, or they were too chicken shit to pack stakes to dust them. The problem with vampires arming themselves with stakes is the risk of having them taken and used against them. Not much fighting happens after you’re reduced to a pile of ash.

  Zoey entered. She and Creed often partnered together, on and off duty. Rourke stayed out of it, but Demetrius grumbled about how it’d bite them in the ass. For the most part, none of them fraternized, but he couldn’t blame Zoey. Losing her true mate the way she had, she turned to a male she felt safe with.

  Like he had with Grace.

  “I know these primes.” Zoey’s serious brown eyes absorbed the scene. “Went to school with their son…whose body is missing. Since he’s not here and the rest of them are, down to every last drop, he’s the prime suspect—no pun intended.”

  “And we can all smell what the root of the conflict was,” Rourke said.

  Their heads bobbed in agreement. Sulfur saturated every fiber in the room.

  Creed crouched by a large scorched area in the main rug. “Accidental summons or intentional?”

  Zoey made a disgusted noise. “Knowing Peter, their son I went to school with, it was intentional. He was always the entitled type.”

  Both Creed and Rourke raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Well,” she clarified, “more than the usual sense of entitlement we have.”

  We, of course, didn’t include Rourke. All he was entitled to was revenge on his dear brother.

  Rourke broke apart from them, crossing the room. “I went through their office, all their documents, but I think Peter’s room needs a closer look.”

  All three of them descended on the son’s room. Everything was overturned: the dressers, the closet, the mattresses. Creed jumped on top of the furniture to search the vents.

  “Bingo.” Creed extracted a thumb drive. “Digital evidence, my favorite.”

  “There’s a laptop in the girl’s bedroom.” Rourke ran to grab it.

  Creed’s love for electronics grew with each decade until he was downright giddy with each new invention. Rourke had a smartphone that was smarter than him. It was all he’d tolerate. Creed lined up for each new version of anything starting with “i” or he paid a human to do it if it was during daylight hours.

  His friend busted through the password requirement which would’ve made Rourke tap out immediately. Once the drive was plugged in, Creed sifted through documents. Zoey peered over Creed’s shoulder with Rourke.

  “Looks like someone had an interest in the occult,” Zoey muttered.

  Screenshots that’d been saved of various demon mythology comprised several files. Then an interesting website.

  “We’ll have to get this to Calli. She can determine which websites are correct and which are just human fantasies.”

  “Lookit.” Creed sat back so they both could see. “I pulled up a website Peter had saved. I mean, I don’t know if it’s legit, but it seems real as hell. Pun totally intended.”

  Rourke scanned the page. “Is that an advertisement for a cult?”

  “I know, right?” Creed barked a laugh and folded his hand behind his head. “I mean, it’s like ‘Cult Leaders ‘R’ Us: We got all sorts of demons, all the time.’ What idiot is this bold?”

  Zoey scrolled through the site. “Terrance Walkins has the balls we’re looking for.” She straightened. “It’s getting too close to daylight. Rourke, tomorrow night, you and Bishop get out to go shake this guy down. Creed and I will take this back to Calli and arrange for the cleaning of this place to put it up for sale.”

  Rourke didn’t envy the vampire crew that swept through places like these, cleansing them from floor to ceiling, and “rehousing” all the belongings. The items were sold and the crew they hired got to pocket the earnings, as long as it was cleared through Demetrius.

  Bishop. His closest friend was acting weird again. Holed himself up in his room with an excuse along the lines of “blood meal not sitting well”.

  As Rourke wove his way out into the night, images of a naked Grace emerging from the shower earlier arose. He intensely anticipated his return home into her arms, the slow plunge of her fangs into his vein had teased him since the night he’d fed her.

  Before daylight, he’d feel it again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rourke stood outside Grace’s room and nearly choked. An herbal smell so strong he had to take a step back hung like a dark cloud in front of her door. Was she burning incense?

  He knocked.

  No answer.

  Tilting his ear toward the door, he listened. It was quiet, but he sensed her inside.

  He knocked again. “Grace?”

  The movement from within sounded…watery? Then a shuffling of bare feet on carpet carried closer to the door.

  The door opened to reveal Grace, once again clad in nothing but a towel, droplets of water sluicing down her torso.

  The pungent fog of incense nailed him. He sneezed. She jumped and clutched her towel so tight her knuckles turned white.

  “Oh, sorry. I extinguished it a while ago.” She stayed in the opening, blocking his entrance. “Everything was catching up to me and I went to the fair again to relax. But I stunk when I left, I wanted to…smell like something else.”

  He surveyed her fist still on her towel, her brown eyes darting from the wall behind him to her feet then to his boots. “Is everything all right?”

  Deep creases of weariness settled into her expression. “I hope it will be. I’m sorry, Rourke. I think I just need to crawl into bed today and sleep it off.”

  He dropped a kiss onto her forehead, stuffing down another sneeze. Had she bathed in pure lavender essential oil?

  “Good night, Grace. Call if you need me.” His head hung down in thought on his way back to his flat.

  Severe disappointment. So that’s what it felt like. He missed Grace, and he’d continue to miss her while he slept alone in his bed. Not just sex, but her laying in his arms, listening to her soft breaths while she slept spooned into him like before.

  Once he’d even drifted off himself, only to jolt awake, almost rousing her. He’d shushed her back to sleep and beat feet back to his room and the safety of his mattress, where he couldn’t drift off because she wasn’t there.

  It’d be the same tonight.

  ***

  On heavy legs, Grace plodded back to her bedroom. Her shoulders hung as if the weight of the compound hung on them, which made sense.

  After all, she was now a two for one deal.

  Will not cry!

  No demon was squeezing tears out of her. They shared the same body. The demon bitch—what had Osiris’ own demon called her?—could take over at any time. Like she had when she first entered Grace.

  God, she didn’t remember any of it. Her only solace was if Rourke was her true mate and the reason for her recent feeding struggles, not even the demoness could choke down another’s blood or be driven to violate Grace’s body.

  The first thing Grace recalled after she spoke the dreaded oath was hearing Rourke knock. She came awake and it all flooded back—Osiris’ demon and her stupid optimism thinking she could help Ari and find a way out, before she lost all control of her own actions.

  Fuck!

  She dressed into her pajamas. Perhaps she could raid the tome and find a way to expunge this thing from her. Would she have time today before Calli returned to study it for the evening?

  Grace slipped into the hallway. If she tiptoed, she’d look guilty as fuck. The more she considered finding the tome, the more it made complete and absolute sense, like it was the best idea in vampire history. Her muscles trembled as she reined her urge in to dart from corner to corner until she reached the large makeshift library that had been converted to Calli’s office.

  Of course it would be locked. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Rourke’s handsome face materialized in her mind. He’d have lock picks, but this lock was electronic. Oddly, he hadn’t engaged in hack
ing those types of locks. Too different from the ones that had held him captive, perhaps.

  The door suddenly opened. Grace jumped back with a gasp.

  Calli smiled in reassurance. “Sorry to startle you. What are you doing here so early?” She glanced at the clock. “Or late, depending on how you look at it.”

  “There’s some demon…things…that have been bothering me.” Truth. “I hoped to scour for answers, see if anything popped out now that I’ve had more time to absorb it all since we went over it.” Mostly truth.

  “Absolutely.” Calli propped the door open with her hip. “Go through my notes and see what you find.”

  Grace nimbly moved past her, pressing against the door frame. A funny look flittered through the other female’s features.

  “Is that lavender bubble bath or perfume?” Calli stayed in the doorway.

  Chitty chat-chat wasn’t on Grace’s radar, but she exuded politeness and refrained from slamming the door out of Calli’s grip to shut herself in alone. “Essential oil bath salts. Would you like to try some sometime?”

  Calli’s aquamarine gaze remained congenial, though her stance was more serious. “Of course. I love lavender. Talk to you later, Grace.”

  “Thanks, Calli.”

  When the door finally clicked closed, Grace sagged with relief. These people were her friends, took her in when she’d lost everything. Now she was the most dangerous thing under the roof.

  Her resolution to get the monstrosity out of her reaffirmed, she dove into Calli’s journals. Paging through binders of Calli’s printed notes, she searched for any indication there was an incantation to remove the demon.

  No luck. She found the very words she’d spoken earlier, but nothing to undo them.

  A frantic drive to find the tome rose with in her. She must find it. Must. Now.

  Grace shook her head. Yes, she’d come down there for that, but Calli was thorough. If she’d found the anything worthwhile in the tome, it was in her notes.

  Need the tome. NOW!

  Instant headache.

  Oh god. It was the demon screaming through.