by Nickie Asher
“Let go of me.” Julian’s heart thundered in his chest. His intentions had been noble, but Christopher was beyond reason, beyond stopping. Hatred emanated from him.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Not yet.”
His father was going to knock the shit out of him. Maybe worse.
“I should have killed you when you were a brat.”
“What?”
“I lost the only thing I ever gave a damn about because of you!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Julian’s heart pounded his ribs.
“Cynthia chose you over me. I should have killed you right then.”
No, that wasn’t right. His mother had grieved for Christopher for years. She’d never gotten over him. “You’re crazy.”
“Perhaps.”
“My mother didn’t leave you, there’s no way. She mourned for you.”
Christopher grabbed Julian by the throat and tightened until he choked.
“Nonetheless, she left me to keep you safe. She chose you and threw me away. Now, I’m going to give you what you deserve, you home wrecking little fuck.”
Julian struggled to breathe and hold the growing panic at bay. His father was insane. And he was a hell of a lot stronger than Julian had ever imagined.
Christopher laughed in his face. “You can’t beat me, boy. You would never be strong enough to take me on. I have over two hundred years on you.”
Julian faltered from the shock of hearing his father’s age.
Christopher’s hand tightened.
Unable to breathe and flailing in panic, he hit Christopher’s nose in a blind swing.
Blood splattered.
Christopher roared and released his hold on Julian’s throat. He grabbed Julian’s right hand and bent it backward. Something in his wrist snapped with a horrid grinding, popping sound. Agony blazed down into his hand and up his forearm. He shrieked and jerked his arm away from his father.
Oh God, his bow hand… His wrist was broken.
He drew the shattered limb up against his chest, thinking only of what it meant for him as a violinist.
Christopher grabbed Julian and launched him through the air. He crashed to the sidewalk, landing on his right arm and hand, shredding layers of skin. A cry ripped out of him. Stunned with pain, he lay motionless, unable to pull himself together.
A small dog yapped nearby.
The older vampire approached and stood over him. In a burst of bitter fear, Julian scrambled backward, ignoring the screaming pain in his arm, seeking to put space between him and his father.
Christopher jerked him up from the concrete.
He struggled in his father’s grasp. Now, all he wanted was to escape the hand locked onto his arm. His father had told the truth; Julian couldn’t beat him, no matter how much pain and anger drove him.
“All your life, you’ve been a spoiled little bastard who appreciated nothing.” Christopher snarled, drawing his lips off his teeth. “You took the only thing that meant anything to me.”
Julian’s heart pounded. His father was going to fuck him up, maybe kill him. “I was a child!”
“You took my mate. Do you know how deep my hate for you is? Do you have any inkling of how many times I watched you parade out of Benaroya and considered killing you?”
Cold ran over Julian. “I’m sorry… Don’t you think I didn’t wish for my father? You have no idea how I felt. Mom didn’t even know I existed after you left. I had no one.”
“I’m glad you weren’t happy. Damn you. It was all your fault. Everything that went wrong was because of you.” Spittle flew from Christopher’s lips.
“Father, listen to me, I’m sorry. I can’t change any of it, but I wouldn’t have wanted Mom to deny you.” He was dead. He fought to remain calm enough to think rationally. If he didn’t get away, his father would get tired of talking and then…
“Do you think I care to listen to your fake apologies? I know you’re afraid, stalling for time. You think I’m insane. I’m not. I’m true to our nature, unlike these stupid whelps who have let humans beat them down. And you know what? If you lived to be old, you would be just like me. But, you aren’t going to have to worry about it.”
Julian was out of time and options. His father held his left arm with a crushing grip and his right hand was useless, but giving up wasn’t in his nature. He wrenched hard to the side and dipped his head, sinking his fangs deep into his father’s hand.
Christopher bellowed, but didn’t let go. Instead, he backhanded Julian with his free hand, knocking him loose. “You little fucker.” He groped under his jacket. When his hand reappeared, lamp light glimmered off a serrated blade.
Christopher was fast. The knife flashed.
For a moment, Julian thought his father had punched him in the stomach. The blade flashed a second and third time. More punches. Christopher stabbed two more times, ripped upward, then withdrew the blade and shoved Julian away.
Julian’s legs let go and he landed on the concrete where he stared stupidly at the blood spreading on the front of his jacket. Had his father done that? He hadn’t worn his Kevlar vest but it probably wouldn’t have mattered. The vests only worked with bullets, not blades.
Christopher bent and wiped the knife clean on Julian’s jeans. Without a word, he walked away.
Lightheadedness seized Julian. He had to get up. He struggled to sit. He had to get home. Strangely, he wasn’t in much pain, though vaguely he knew his father had stabbed him.
Julian tried again to stand and failed. His legs wouldn’t support him. Confused, he looked around. He didn’t know what street he was on. What had happened? Things were getting fuzzy.
Hurt. He was hurt. He looked down at the blood on his jacket. He needed someone to help him. He dragged his phone from his inside jacket pocket with his left hand. It weighed so much, he could barely hold it. The damn phone must weigh forty pounds.
He hit Ashton’s number. The street spun and he was falling into a bottomless black pit.
THREE HOURS later, Christopher put down his Scotch and retrieved the wanted posters Banks had given him.
He flipped through the pages until one brought him up short. He stared at a photo of Julian, taken when his son had been brought in for processing.
Julian didn’t look tough in the photo. He looked on the verge of panic. Nevertheless, the whelp was worth $25,000. Not bad. Julian must have seriously gone off on someone’s ass.
He read the details with mounting interest. Julian had not only become involved with the Resistance, he’d participated in a ballsy break in and rescue of another male. And he’d killed at least two humans.
Perhaps Julian hadn’t been the sissy he’d thought. Though that wasn’t important. He grabbed his jacket and keys. Julian’s carcass was valuable. He hoped like hell none of the Halzworth crews had found the body and taken it away.
It took Christopher less than fifteen minutes to return to where he’d left Julian lying on the asphalt. His son was gone. Christopher cursed. Julian hadn’t gotten up and strolled off either. The pavement was smeared with a large amount of dried blood. There was no way he had survived the encounter.
Fuck it to hell. He could have used that twenty-five grand.
Chapter Forty
JULIAN SWAM out of blackness. Pain owned him and he tried to will himself back into the peace of unconsciousness.
Wasn’t happening. His eyes slid open and took in his surroundings. He lay in an uncomfortable bed and IVs dripped fluids into both of his arms.
He felt as if someone had opened him up and taken a blender to his guts. Behind him, out of his range of vision, a machine beeped in rhythm with his heart. His wrist was bandaged in some kind of splint.
Saranna slept in a chair beside his bed. He was at Jason’s.
“Saranna?” he croaked.
Her eyelids shot open. “Julian, you’re awake.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Since Ashton found you two nights ago.
Who did this?”
He furrowed his brow as if trying to recall. “I don’t remember.” Lying to her made him shrivel inside, but he couldn’t bear to let them know the truth. That his own father hated him enough to try to kill him was too much to admit.
“My wrist…” He drew his arm up.
“Jason said you should be able to use it without any problems after it has time to heal.”
“Thank God. If I can’t play…” He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t lose the only thing he truly loved. The one thing that would never hurt him.
“I’ll get Jason. He wanted to know when you woke up.” She slid from the chair, beautiful in her simple faded jeans and white shirt. His cock stirred despite a tube to drain his urine and a considerable amount of pain in his stomach.
“Saranna?”
She stopped.
“I’m sorry. For everything. Will you ever forgive me?”
“We’ll talk later.” She hurried away, her back ramrod straight.
Sounded like a no to him. Pain that had nothing to do with his wounds slashed through him.
A few minutes later, Jason strode into the room. “So, you’ve awakened.” He moved around the bed.
Julian nodded. “When can I get out of here?”
“I don’t want you moving around yet. Your insides were carved up pretty bad. So bad that I had to call in a surgeon more skilled than me. You’re very lucky to be alive.”
“Feels like it.” Terrific. He’d probably be in debt to Surgeon Guy for the rest of his natural life.
“I can’t give you any more pain killers without risking a fatal overdose.”
Jason moved to Julian’s bedside. “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”
Jason gave him a tell-me-another-one look. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s your business. But I hope you have enough sense not to go after whoever did this. He couldn’t have been a human.”
Saranna gasped.
Julian said nothing.
AFTER JASON left, Saranna came back into Julian’s room. She looked wary when she sat beside his bed. “Jason asked me to feed you and to use the wrist.”
Sounded good to him. He was hungry as a wolf.
“He gave you a lot of blood because you lost so much, but feeding is better than transfusions to speed up healing.”
He breathed deep, filling himself with her scent—lilacs and spring rain.
She moved her chair closer and offered her wrist.
He grasped her arm and made short work of taking the offering. When he finished, he licked slowly over the bite wound. A tremor ran through her and a soft moan escaped her slightly parted lips.
Damn it, he was so unworthy of her. He wasn’t even able to give her the love she wanted and deserved. He was a first class prick. Maybe worse. “I wish I could give you the life you deserve, dress you like a queen, and give you everything you ever wanted.”
“Julian, I don’t need those things to be happy. All I need is you. I need to feel safe in your arms. And I need… I don’t need material objects. But we can’t be together until you sort out your feelings.”
“I—”
“No. Let me say this. I won’t be your whore. I won’t have you in my bed if you don’t love me. And if you can’t say it, then you don’t.”
Pain deeper than the wounds in his body twisted his insides. He wanted to love her. He needed her. But he wasn’t ready to take a chance. She’d already torn his heart out. If he loved her … How much worse would it be?
He met her eyes. “So what now?”
“That depends on you. I’m willing to give it a chance and start over, but I won’t sleep with you unless you can love me.”
She grabbed her purse and stood. “I took you for my mate and you still are, but don’t make any demands on me. You need to think about what I’ve said and decide what you want. I can’t make you love me and I won’t try. And I can’t make you any promises either.”
Chapter Forty-one
FOUR DAYS later, Jason released Julian. He’d mended enough to get around and he wasn’t feeling much physical pain. Jason had sent him home with enough pain medication to make him happy for a couple of weeks. He wished the pain meds worked on emotional pain too.
He entered the house as if walking on hot coals with Ashton right behind him.
Vali’s face lit up. “I didn’t think that quack was ever gonna’ let you come home.”
Saranna snorted. “I think Jason was glad to get rid of him. All Julian did was complain.”
“Not true.” Julian affected a hurt expression.
“Very true.” Saranna guided him to the sofa. “Jason’s wife and his assistants were tired of you.”
The door banged open and Slade swaggered in. He met Julian’s eyes and a cold smile curled the corners of his lips.
Julian tensed. Slade was up to no good.
“Welcome home, Julian.” Slade strode across the room. “Remember when I said I’d keep digging until I got to the bottom of your lies?”
Julian’s heart thumped his ribs.
“Well gather around everyone. I want all of you to know what Julian’s real relationship to Michael Foster was.”
“Slade? What are you doing?” Saranna said.
“I’m getting everything out in the open. No secrets.” A cold smirk appeared.
Shit. Things were going to get ugly. Would they tell him to leave? Sweat dampened his back. More importantly, what would Saranna think of him? He should have told her instead of letting her brother make good on his threat. How could he have been so stupid?
She looked at him, eyes wide. “Julian?”
His stomach felt like someone had whipped out the blender again.
“Do you want to tell the truth now or do you want me to spell it out for them?” Slade asked. Now his expression was grim.
“Julian, if you have something to tell us, you need to get on with it,” Ashton said. He looked even more grim than Slade.
Julian swallowed. Too bad he couldn’t drop into a hole in the floor and vanish. It would be better than having the truth spilled out for all of them to judge him. “How did you find out?”
“I spent an enlightening evening with Michael Foster’s father. He knew all about you because his son mailed a suicide note.”
Julian’s stomach plummeted.
“Julian?” Ashton prompted.
Shit, he had to spill it. No getting around it. “What I told you about Michael Foster was the truth. He was my nemesis and I hated him. One night, I saw him and his father. They didn’t know I was there.” His stomach churned.
He forced himself to continue. “I found out he was a half-breed.” He looked away. “After his father left, I caught him alone and threatened to expose him if he didn’t leave Juilliard.”
Saranna sucked in her breath.
“The next day … they found him dead. He killed himself. He left a note in his room. It said he couldn’t leave and he couldn’t stay. He killed himself because of me. I pushed him to suicide so I could win a competition.”
“Julian…” Saranna said.
“Let him finish.” Ashton’s voice was deadly quiet.
“There’s nothing more to tell. It’s my fault he killed himself. If I could change it, I would. I never thought he would do anything like that.”
Saranna looked stricken. “Oh, Julian. Oh my God.”
“I know I can never make up for that kid’s death,” Julian said. “I would if I could.”
“Is that the entire story?” Ashton looked to Slade for confirmation.
“Far as I can tell.”
Cold eddied though Julian. Now what? Throw him out? Or something worse? And Saranna? He looked at her and wanted to beg her forgiveness. Instead, he remained quiet and awaited their condemnation.
“Well,” Ashton finally said. “I’m not the one who needs to forgive or condemn you. I’m not the one you wronged.” He shoved his hair
back. “You had no idea you were anything other than human. I realize this.”
Julian forced himself to maintain eye contact with Ashton. Whatever they did to him, he deserved it. “I—”
“No. Julian. Let me finish,” Ashton said. “You will take whatever punishment Michael Foster’s father wishes to dispense. If he requires your execution, I will not stand in his way. I hope that isn’t the case, but he has every right to demand your life to pay for his son’s.”
Ice settled in Julian’s veins. “I understand.” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice from shaking.
“Ashton, no,” Saranna said and went to Julian’s side. You can’t allow that.”
“I’m sorry, Saranna, but he has the right to demand retribution. I don’t like it either, but, if I shelter Julian, it sends out a message that I’m not fair and play favorites. I can’t have that.”
Julian slipped his arm around his mate. “I brought this on myself. I can’t ask for mercy because I had none for his son. I’ll take whatever punishment he decides on.”
“Michael Foster’s father will be here in a few hours,” Slade said and smirked.
Ashton rubbed his temple. “I suggest you spend the remaining time with your mate.”
SARANNA TRIED to stop the trickle of tears as she lay tucked in Julian’s arms. Despite her resolve to keep him from her bed, she had allowed him to lay with her. How could she deny him when he might be sent to his death within hours? Not that he’d done much of anything other than kissing her and using his hand on her.
He was unable to mate, his injuries were much too severe to even consider trying, but at least he was with her.
He kissed her cheek and drew her closer, maybe for the last time.
THE NEARER the appointed time of the elder Foster’s arrival, the more Julian’s stomach churned. Reluctantly, he left Saranna’s arms and the warmth of the bed. It was time to meet his fate and he had a pretty good idea what that would be.
He went back to the bed and kissed her soft lips. The scent of her tears, as well as her emotions, was sharp and bitter. Neither of them spoke.
