Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2)

by Marie Johnston

  “Grace—”

  “Call them, Rourke. We were gone more than a few minutes. Those two wouldn’t waste time looking for us.”

  He wore a scowl but made the call. “Did you find the boy?” He nodded and hung up. A dark brow arched toward her.

  “You said your piece earlier. I need to say mine.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. But…you’re you. You can handle yourself. The people who might be my parents, maybe can’t. It’s not like I gave him top secret information. I said you go out, investigate the killings, and that’s it.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, and she laid a finger across his sensual lips. A predatory glint entered his dark eyes.

  Her breath caught; her mouth suddenly gone dry. “I fed from Ophelia with no problems.”

  Rourke drew back as if the news disturbed him. Yeah, it bothered her, too.

  “But,” she continued before he made any more excuses for why he should avoid her, “I still love you.” He went rigid. “Bonding ability or not, I want an us. At least give us a chance.”

  She dropped her hands from him and waited, a jumble of nerves.

  His shoulders slumped, his gaze dropped, his voice was low. “I don’t deserve you, Grace. You have your whole life in front of you with your prime family. Don’t waste your love on me.”

  Ah, that word—prime. It explained everything behind Rourke’s motivation in life.

  “Ozias Rourke. You have a thick skull.” She cupped his face and dragged it down to hers. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather shower with my love. And shower with.”

  A low rumble in his chest preceded his lips crashing down on hers.

  Yesss. Nothing was crystal clear, or written in stone, but he’d basically given her a passcode to his mental barrier. She’d take it.

  He opened his mouth for her. The smoky flavor she’d missed so much filtered onto her taste buds as her tongue tangled with his. Her hands drifted down to spread across his body, resting on his muscular shoulders.

  His arms wrapped around her. If his guns weren’t poking her in the stomach, she’d probably feel his massive erection pressed into her. Gradually, he pulled back. A deep maroon of desire tinted his dark brown irises.

  That was so hot.

  “I want you in my bed, Grace.” His expression was more serious than a declaration of I want to fuck you.

  She blinked, trying to determine the meaning behind his words.

  “My bed…” He paused, uncertainty in his expression.

  “I’ve never been in your bed,” she blurted out. That was it. He was saying something significant and it had to do with the mysterious piece of furniture that had stolen him from her side after they’d been intimate.

  He inclined his head in agreement. “I had slept,” his features hardened into the terrifying vampire slave who’d killed his masters, “in filth, on the floor, for well over a decade. Then I slept in alleyways, still in filth. After I teamed up with Demetrius, we were intent on taking down our former government that I slept wherever required. Once the compound was built, I made damn sure I bought a top of the line mattress.”

  A warm smile curved her lips. “And Betty keeps you stocked in pristine sheets.”

  He scowled. “And pie. I fucking love her pie. I want to tear into it with my bare hands.”

  She realized the admission he’d just made. He wasn’t speaking figuratively. She’d seen his restraint over meals.

  “One night a week, we can have an eat-with-your-hands meal.”

  Alarm passed through his expression. “Why would I want to do that?”

  She sighed and caressed his cheek. His bonding instinct might be the least broken thing about her male. “So you know you aren’t that helpless kid anymore, that it’s your choice.”

  His muscles shivered under her skin. Her words had gotten to him.

  He laid his forehead against hers; he had to hunch significantly to do it. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “We deserve each other. We deserve to be happy. If we can’t bond when we say the bonding vow, then we’ll make our own ritual.”

  “Grace,” he whispered. He lifted his head, his thumb stroked her lower lip. Such a little movement earned maximum physical response. “Before I take you, I want you to feed from me. When you kissed me, I had a hard time getting past Ophelia’s taste on your lips.”

  A chuckle bubbled past her lips.

  It earned her another frown. “I’m not kidding. For a second, it was disturbingly like kissing a…”

  She understood why he didn’t finish. The guy just dusted his only living relative. “Sister. It’s okay, Rourke. Ophelia and the others are your family more than Osiris was.”

  At the name of his brother, his gaze dropped. “I think he was actually telling the truth. At least in his mind, he was trying to protect me.”

  “It’s messed up, but Osiris did seem to have a thing about not hurting kids.” Adults, obviously, were a different story. “I think your home environment left a huge opening for corruption, but he drew a line and stuck to it. My memory of him was him wandering around the house I was in. He should’ve easily sensed where I was. And Ari—”

  “Is here.” Bishop’s voice boomed across the lawn. He carried a little boy with thick black hair and brown eyes as wide as saucers.

  Creed exited the mansion with a tiny blonde in her mid-twenties clinging to his arm. Her wild curls framed her face like a fluffy halo, and her sky blue eyes stared at Creed like he was every Hollywood heartthrob from the twenty-first century.

  Her scent was a surprise. Human.

  When they got closer, Creed tried to pry her arm off him. It didn’t work. “She was the boy’s nanny. Osiris abducted her to watch him and feed him.”

  Grace gasped and faced the girl. “Did you know about…us…before that?” How terrifying would that have been for the woman?

  She shook her head, her riotous curls flying. “I was leaving work, and he snatched me out of the mall parking lot, like poof. And then I was here, and vampires, and a kid with fangs.” Ari giggled and held his arms out to her. He was enough to persuade her to disengage from Creed. She hefted the boy from Bishop and planted him on her hip. “I mean, vampires? But Ari’s so sweet, and that man told me what happened.” She choked on the words and hugged Ari tightly. “Dear child. What will happen to him now?”

  Grace warmed to her instantly. The woman asked about Ari’s future, as if the fate of her own life paled in comparison. Was that what her own parents had been like?

  “We’ll take care of him,” Bishop said with confidence.

  Grace glanced at Rourke. He wore a troubled expression as his gaze flicked back and forth between Bishop and the child.

  Was it because Ari wasn’t prime or because the compound wasn’t a place to raise a kid? Or both? Grace was sure that was it. Rourke and his team couldn’t raise Ari, not with their violent lifestyle, and he feared no other family would step up.

  She stepped in closer to him and discreetly laid a hand on his back in reassurance. He slanted her a searing look, and just like that she wasn’t worried about him anymore. Thankfully no one noticed because the human hadn’t quit talking.

  “It had to have been awful what happened to him,” she said in a hushed voice, oblivious to the sensitivity of vampire hearing, that Ari would hear every word. “I lost my parents when I was a kid, too. It just messes with you, you know? And that!” Creed flinched. The girl shook her finger. “That’s why that hot guy kidnapped me. No trail, he said. It’ll be easy to dispose of you, Melody, he said. God he was cruel. Hey!” Her finger aimed toward Rourke. “You look like him.”

  The poor thing paled and inched closer to Creed. The normally easygoing vampire watched her out of the corner of his eye, unsure what to do with her.

  “He was my brother, and he won’t harm you any longer.” It was the gentlest Grace had ever heard Rourke speak. Her respect swelled for her mate at his show of consideration.

&n
bsp; “Is he a good guy?” She clutched Ari close and leaned into Creed, who took a step back from her.

  “Yeah,” Creed said, like duh.

  “Oh, okay.” She shot Rourke an apologetic look. “Then I’m sorry.”

  All of them watched her, wondering if she was for real.

  Rourke recovered first. “Flash her and Ari back. Demetrius will sort out what to do.”

  Bishop and Creed disappeared with Ari and the woman who was still talking.

  “At least the landing will finally shut her up,” Rourke said.

  Grace chuckled. “Nathaniel spewed all over my shoes the one time I flashed him, but I thought it was because we’d been drinking.”

  “I think…” He faced her and ran a lock of her hair through his fingers. “I think I may love you, Grace.”

  That might not be enough for many females, but it meant the world to her. “Then I think I’ll stick around until you know for sure.”

  A slow, sexy smile spread across his handsome face. “Didn’t I mention my bed earlier?”

  ***

  Rourke stood next to his mate in front of the closed door to Demetrius’ office.

  “What if they don’t like me?” Grace had faced her worst nightmare. Bedded him even. But meeting her parents for the first time in twenty-three years shredded her.

  “You know they’ll love you.” Rourke’s calm tone seemed to piss her off. “You’ve had a whole day to adjust to knowing they’re your parents. They’ve had a whole day to adjust to knowing their daughter is still alive. It’s time.”

  Grace gulped and faced the closed door. “Can you come in with me?”

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “No, angel. You have my full support, but your parents deserve you. You deserve to have time alone with them.”

  “They’re your family, too, now.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. He admitted he’d come a long way in the short time he’d known Grace. She had spent the entire day in his bed. And much of the night until Demetrius summoned them for the meet and greet. It was a huge change in Rourke’s world, but he wasn’t going to go declaring a prime couple Mom and Dad.

  “They’ll love you as much as I do.” He yanked her in for a quick kiss on the lips. Then he spun her around, opened the door, and tenderly pushed her inside. He swept the door closed behind her.

  He released a long breath. It’d be a lie if he said he wasn’t worried Grace’s reunion with her parents meant she’d want to go live with them and make up for the decades they’d lost.

  “You’re very good with her,” Betty said behind him.

  He spun slowly, not wishing to let the ancient vampire know she’d snuck up on him. Although it made sense one as old as she should know how to.

  Betty trudged up to him and raised her wrinkled hand to pat him on the shoulder. “And she’s very good with you.”

  Hyped up on the surge of emotion his mate caused within him, he rested his hand on top of hers. “Betty, I love your pies.”

  The smile materializing on her maternal face cracked another fissure in his hardened soul. “Ozias Rourke, wait until you try my apple crisp. There’s one cooling by your door.”

  Hellfire, he might have to let out his pistol belt a couple of notches. But…maybe he could wait for Grace at his place. Wait, their place.

  He thanked Betty and turned to go when the office door opened.

  “Rourke.” Grace’s voice was flushed with happiness, her eyes glassy from joyful tears. “Come in and meet my parents.”

  Pivoting, he met Grace’s excited gaze. Behind her stood the couple from the picture, wearing welcoming smiles.

  Rourke’s heavy past rolled off his shoulders. His future stood in front of him.

  Epilogue

  Rancor’s fangs dripped yellow pus. “You discovered nothing?”

  He sat on the dais, surrounded by bones. New ones had been added since Fyra’s last visit.

  She swallowed nervously, going so far as angling her head to expose one breast under her fiery red locks. Any distraction at the moment only behooved her. “He’s proven stronger than expected. I need more time.”

  And it wouldn’t do any good. That frustrating blond Adonis clung to his loyalty. She mentally snorted. As if. In the underworld, loyalty was worse than timidity.

  What was Bishop’s issue anyway? His priority should be her! He’d fed from her, said the vow. She should rule him.

  Rancor rose to his full, terrifying eight-foot height. He stalked down the wide steps, his curved horns throwing off glints of the torches lining the walls.

  Show no weakness. Fyra took a step back. Dammit. Where was Stryke to throw under the bus when she needed him?

  The distance between them was eaten up until he loomed over her, the chamber’s constant stench of terror and death smothered her. She took another step back. The side of his mouth curled, revealing even more square footage of his fangs.

  Tusks were more accurate.

  “Rancor.” Curses, her voice trembled. “I can fix this.”

  His voice dropped to a husky drone. “You’ll make something right.” He fisted her hair and used his claw on the other hand to slice it off until her breasts were fully exposed.

  Oh shit, oh shit. It was going to happen. Her mama told her it was inevitable. You’re smarter than them, Fyra. Do whatever it takes to stay out from under them.

  Mama. No! Fyra couldn’t show any more weakness with Rancor inches away.

  “Now, now, Your Greatness. I have a duty to attend to.” She attempted to skirt around him toward the archway that led to an ice cavern. She knew it like the lines on Bishop’s face. When her heat overwhelmed her, she sought solace in the cavern.

  Rancor grabbed her shoulders, his claws digging in. She bit back a cry.

  She tried one more avenue. “Didn’t I hear Stryke got his ass sent back from the human world within minutes?” He was a strong male—and not Rancor’s type, usually. Stryke was her go-to distractor.

  “He’s being dealt with.”

  His claw stoked down her torso, cutting skin along its path. Her loincloth was ripped off.

  Fyra darted to the left; he caught her and dragged her back against him.

  He bested her in size and strength, proving immune to her coercion, if only she could flash like the vampires.

  Vampires. Her link to Bishop. Was it strong enough? Of course not, he resisted her, but she had to try.

  She closed her eyes and summoned his image. Pretending it was the same as entering the hosts Terrance recruited for her, she allowed the same ethereal sense of vaporizing her physical body to take over.

  The rough flesh of his fingers stroked the underswells of her breasts. His hot, fetid breath choked her. She squeezed her eyes shut harder. Bishop. Think of her bond with the big lug.

  Fresh air assailed her.

  Her eyes flew open. No, she wasn’t outdoors. She was in the bedroom Terrance performed his summons in.

  It worked. Fyra sucked in a breath of relief.

  Dread wiped out the relief. She was an underworld fugitive. Going back was not an option. Second tier now meant nothing. If she went back, she’d be on the menu, the next pile of bones on the dais—and grateful because what she would go through before would be, well, Hell.

  She straightened. Fear could suck it. She escaped Rancor; she was bad ass.

  A tingle of awareness spread along her spine. Her bond to Bishop was strong enough to transport her here and fuck the middle man. That meant he could find her. And he kinda hated her.

  Plans clicked into place. Rancor would dominate the next prime sucker to fall for the Circle’s bullshit so he could hunt her the fuck down and finish what he’d started. She would become the Circle’s bitch before they ate her alive. Then regurgitated her to gobble her down again.

  She needed clothing, a hat to hide her distinct hair, and money because that’s what fueled this world.

  ***

  The sun would rise in a few hours, but Bishop w
as stretched across his bed, seeking refuge in his apartment per his new nightly routine when he wasn’t working.

  She’d been quiet.

  Bishop wouldn’t say he missed his demon’s voice. He didn’t. Really.

  But where was she? What was she planning? When would she turn up again?

  His body reacted to the last question. No, you idiot. Think about something else.

  The events of the night. Yes, those. How nice it worked out that Grace’s parents took in Ari. Grace’s little brother and Ari played and fought like natural brothers. The chatterbox, Melody, even went with them as a live-in nanny. She had endeared herself to the family as quickly as she had to everyone else. Except for Creed.

  Bishop laughed to himself. He loved seeing his brother-in-arms uncomfortable and Melody certainly did that to him.

  A hot flash blew across Bishop’s brow. His head swiveled around, searching for a reason. Another flush of heat lit him up from the inside out.

  She was here. On Earth. His demon was in town.

  Why did he feel it now?

  He scrambled his brains for a reason, and it was obvious. With Terrance dead, she had no host. But she had Bishop and their bond. His demon was walking in this realm in her true form.

  He raced outside, avoiding everyone lest he have to answer any questions.

  He scented nothing. No brimstone, no being roamed the trees surrounding the compound. Where would she be?

  The house where he’d seen the blonde host she’d used before. It was his only lead.

  He crashed back inside to load up on gear and weapons. He’d find his demon and make her pay.

  Thank you for reading. I’d love to know what you thought. Please consider leaving a review at the retailor the book was purchased from.

  ~Marie

  About the Author

  Marie Johnston lives in the upper-Midwest with her husband, four kids, and an old cat. Deciding to trade in her lab coat for a laptop, she’s writing down all the tales she’s been making up in her head for years. An avid reader of paranormal romance, these are the stories hanging out and waiting to be told between the demands of work, home, and the endless chauffeuring that comes with children.