by Aliya DalRae
“I guess I’m still afraid,” she said, and he felt her sincerity, though her honesty was like a vise clamping down on his heart. See, there it was again. That broken heart thing. He heard people could die of this—Jessica said her mother had—and the way his own ticker felt, he’d not be surprised.
“I wish I could tell you not to be afraid, and it would be as easy as that.”
“I do too,” she whispered, entangling her fingers with his. Her skin felt soft compared to his, but he was aware of the occasional callus, the slightest imperfection a reminder that she was human, and that she would be crazy not to fear the likes of him.
“Is there anything I can do to help ease your mind? Or do you still need…to be away from me?” He had to force the words from his throat, but for her he would offer.
“I don’t know if that would make it better or worse,” she shrugged, lifting his hand in both of hers, turning it over, studying his fingers, his thumb. With a sigh, she laid her cheek into his palm, and held it there with her own. She closed her eyes, and he reached for her mind, hoping he would find peace there.
“That itches,” she smiled, her eyes still shut, and he managed a small smile as well. It wasn’t peace he felt, not entirely, but it also wasn’t rejection. Though he wasn’t able to read her thoughts, he could still feel her emotions, and what he felt—was hope.
For now, that was enough.
Chapter Fifty-Five
D amn them to hell and back—every one—every last mother-fucking Vampire that ever crossed paths with Jessica Sweet.
Malcolm was fuming. He needed to find a rat to obliterate. Or maybe an opossum or a raccoon, something that would put up a fight. He couldn’t go into town as Mac and get himself arrested fighting humans, so he would have to take out his frustration on some other life form. Hell, maybe he would get his own ass kicked. At least he would feel something other than this Vampire induced aggravation.
He was making progress with Jessica, real progress. But now good old Raven was innocent, at least of current charges, and it was only a matter of time before she would be running full steam back into that murdering bastard’s arms.
She had been shaking with terror while in the grips of the vision. Malcolm had stood by her, nuzzling her, comforting her the only way he could, and he was there for her when she awoke. It was Malcolm she clung to as images of her Vampire mutilating women flashed like a 9mm film in her mind. Malcolm she tried to protect from the Vampire, Perry, just as Malcolm was trying to do the same for her.
You idiot, he thought. She didn’t know it was you, and seriously—what exactly did you think you were going to do against a Vampire? At your best, you’d be no match, but as a house cat?
Malcolm ran across the little runway Jessica’s father once used for the crop duster he had flown, and into the woods that bordered the property. He jumped onto a rotting log and ran the length of it. When he reached the end, he leaped down into a small ravine, and scrambled up the other side, scenting, searching for something willing to challenge him.
He felt the eyes of the forest upon him, restless birds in the trees and a few squirrels watching him suspiciously from their nests, but nothing with attitude.
Truth was, he didn’t smell like a normal cat. Most of these creatures would naturally steer clear of him, and in fact, that was precisely what they were doing. He came upon a raccoon, digging for crawdads in a small creek bed, and even that masked bandit backed off. Took one look at Malcolm, twitched its stupid little nose and ran away. Chicken shit.
Malcolm sat back on his haunches and chewed on his paw to remove a burr. The whole situation sucked. He hated that Jessica was having horrible visions. No one should have to see what that monster was capable of. The stories alone were the stuff of nightmares.
He hated even more that he wasn’t there to comfort her as a man should. She deserved someone who could be there for her, day and night. Not some halftime Vampire who was only good in the dark. And certainly not a chicken shit tabby cat who was so afraid of rejection that he never gave her a chance to deny him.
Christ, he needed a drink.
Malcolm looked up at the moon, the light refracting in his eyes, making them shine like green glass. It was still early, barely midnight.
His mind made up, Malcolm took off again at a sprint, changing directions and heading to the place where his car was now hidden. He’d found a little old lady to rent him a space in her barn, which worked better than the spot in the woods he was using before. She was aware of his odd hours and asked very few questions, and he had some spare clothes in the trunk.
Jessica was smart. She wasn’t going to jump back in the sack with the Vampire, no matter how good he was. She would think about it, figure it out. Meanwhile, “Mac” needed to come up with a plan to come clean with her. It would either work or it wouldn’t, but he was done with the hiding. And there was nothing that happened tonight that a good shot or ten of Cuervo wouldn’t cure.
Chapter Fifty-Six
I held Raven’s hand to my face, my eyes still closed, and tried to remember the gentleness in him. His hands were smooth, soft, and I imagined how they would feel on the rest of my body, imagined us making love. I tried really hard not to think about the visions or the look on Perry’s face when I opened the door to him tonight. My chest still ached for the anguish he was feeling.
When I opened my eyes, Raven was watching me, and I could sense something different in him. He didn’t seem quite so defeated, and that lifted my heart a little bit. Maybe we could get through this.
He was innocent. Tas had proven it to all of us, Raven included, simply by giving him an alibi when he most desperately needed one. Raven had been adamant all along about his lack of involvement in the murders. But I think he was as shocked and relieved as any of us to learn that he couldn’t possibly have killed anyone tonight.
I removed his hand from my face, placed it on the table between us, and stood to say goodbye. Raven had to get back to the Legion, to report to Mason, and I needed to try and sleep. He stood to walk with me, and when he held out his hand I took it, giving him more confidence yet. I wanted so badly to have us back the way we were.
Maybe there was a chance.
We walked toward the driveway, and the Hummer Perry had abandoned, in silence, our fingers interlaced. I stopped about halfway down the sidewalk and turned him to face me.
“I’m sorry, Raven,” I said, taking his other hand in my free one.
“Don’t be,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms. I went willingly, laying my face against his chest, and when he rested his chin on the top of my head, tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want to let him go, afraid that if I did, we would never get back to us.
Raven stiffened in my arms, and I thought he might be thinking the same thing, or reading my mind again. The next thing I knew I was flat on my ass about five feet away from him, and Raven was standing, snarling, between me and another man.
I couldn’t see who it was, but there was ample light to be able to tell that it at least wasn’t another Sorcerer. My relief was short lived, though, because it was only a moment before it registered. The dude still had glowing eyes, only his were orange, like a rotten jack-o-lantern, rather than the Sorcerer’s evil red.
“Raven?” I asked. I didn’t want to distract him, but I was a little freaked out.
“Go inside, Jessica,” he said, his voice thick with pending violence. To the man he snarled, “What do you want, feral?”
Great. Ferals were bad Vampires, that much I knew. The kind that liked to feed off of innocent little ol’ humans, like me. Jeeze Louise. Why did all the bad guys end up in my yard?
I waited to hear his response, but it never came. Instead, he rushed Raven and they were in one of those high speed Vampire fights before I could blink. I couldn’t follow the action—they were moving too fast. And I was so wrapped up in trying to make sure Raven was okay that I was completely oblivious to everything else.
That w
as my mistake.
I felt the Vampire behind me a second before he grabbed me. I leaned forward a bit to break his hold, flipping him over my shoulder to land on his back in front of me. No time for celebration, though. As I said, these creatures are wicked fast, and he was up and facing me before I could take a ready stance.
He rushed me, and I tried to execute a front kick, but he was there before I could extend my leg. He grabbed my foot and twisted me around so that I landed face-down on the grass. I rolled to my back, only to have him land hard on my stomach, knocking the breath out of me. Still, I struggled, even as he pinned my arms above my head, his feral-orange eyes gleaming at me in anticipation.
I attempted to kick the back of his head, but I had no leverage. He leaned forward as I swung, his face inches from my own, a drop of saliva dangling disgustingly from one fang.
“What do you want?” I screamed. He ignored me, of course, ripping my shirt down the front and rubbing his crotch against my stomach, showing me that I had more to worry about than his fangs.
I tried kicking again, hoping to get in a groin shot, but all this struggling was making things worse. He was hissing with excitement, his eyes locked on my jugular. He tensed above me, preparing to strike, and I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see what happened next.
It didn’t help.
The pain was excruciating, nothing at all like what I experienced when Raven fed from me during sex. This was violent and evil, as though the feral were taking pleasure in my agony and fear, and doing everything he could to prolong it. He locked his fangs into the soft juncture between my neck and shoulder, and was holding my arms with one hand, as his other fiddled with his zipper.
This was not happening.
“Raven,” I screamed, trying once again to connect my knee with the bastard’s naughty bits. No go—I couldn’t get the angle—and the more I fought, the more excited the feral got. His jaws were working up and down, chewing on my shoulder like a piece of Dentyne, and his free hand was now gripping the waist of my jeans, his intentions ominous.
“Raven!” Panic had me in its grip as the world around me threatened to go black. Where was he? Oh God, was he hurt? Was he dead? Concern for Raven pulled my focus a little, but that also made clearer that fact that my death wasn’t going to be quick or painless. This Vampire with his jaws gnawing my flesh and his hand inching down my pants looked nothing like the Raven in my visions. His actions, however, were very much those of the monster currently terrorizing Fallen Cross. I was going to die just like Heidi and Mandy did.
This totally sucked.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
R aven had the feral on the ground, his hand gripping the animal’s neck. A bit more pressure, and he could tear out his windpipe. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell.
“Who sent you?” he growled, and the feral spat in his face. Raven increased the pressure on his throat, moving a knee between the male’s legs and leaning hard.
“Who sent you?” he repeated, but the feral just laughed. Raven lifted his knee and brought it down hard on the male’s crotch, putting his full weight into it. The feral screamed, an inhuman sound, and Raven gave him one more chance.
“Tell me now, and I may let you live.” He had the feral’s attention now. Where he had been toying with Raven before, now he seemed frightened.
“I—I don’t understand,” he hissed, struggling to breathe under Raven’s grasp.
“Who. Sent. You.”
“You—you did,” the feral’s orange eyes were darting in confusion. “To get the girl. You said to make it look like a real fight. Ow!” Raven was driving the knee home again.
“Why would I do that?” he snarled, the urge to rip the bastard to pieces becoming difficult to suppress.
“You said she was a pet of the Legion’s—that you could get close to her, and we would be able to take her. A little payback.”
Another set up. Only now, Jessica was the target.
“Tell me my name,” Raven growled, and the feral looked at him like he was speaking Swahili. “My name,” he repeated.
The creature was pushing at his knee, trying to relieve the pressure, but Raven was having fun now, enjoying this. It felt…familiar.
“You—you’re the Rapist, shit. Let me go. It’s not funny anymore.” He was panicking now, his fear of Raven at last reaching the level it should have been from the start.
“What’s my real name?”
“Your what?” he shrieked.
“My real name. Say it. Now!” Raven felt something rupture in the feral, and he was energized. Gods, he hadn’t felt like this in centuries.
“You never told us. You said you were the Rapist and we would all be part of the—Aiih!—the new revolution. Please. You know me—” He was begging now. So sweet.
Raven’s eyes were pulsing with color, like an amethyst strobe light, and he was feeding off this animal’s fear. The beast was so close to the surface, and the desire to turn himself over to his former self and go apeshit on this piece of garbage was nigh irresistible.
“Where are we taking her?” Raven asked. This could be the break they were looking for. Once they found the ferals’ lair, he could put an end to whoever was impersonating him.
The feral narrowed his eyes, looking at Raven as though he’d never seen him before.
“You’re not you,” he said, comprehension widening his eyes.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Raven sneered, his hand tightening around the feral’s throat. “I am exactly who you think I am. I am the Rapist, and I’m looking forward to watching you die.”
“Wait! Wait! I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Finally, an end to this madness. Raven loosened his grip, but the feral’s arm swung around quickly, planting a fallen limb from a nearby tree square in Raven’s chest. “The bitch is gonna die,” he spat.
Fury and pain coursed through him, and Raven lost the thin thread of control he’d been holding. With one motion, he ripped the feral’s windpipe from his neck, then proceeded to remove the head entirely.
The feral was dead, but Raven wasn’t satisfied. Jessica had been threatened, and the rage that engulfed him needed release. Blinded by anger, Raven tore at the lifeless body, rending it into pieces. The wood in his chest burned, but the need for revenge burned hotter, sharper, and the damage he was meting out wasn’t quenching that burn in the slightest.
A voice sounded in his mind. Jessica. But he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop until there was nothing but an unidentifiable mass around him.
Jessica. The voice sounded again. Raven hesitated, blood and tattered viscera dripping from his claws as his chest heaved with exertion, pulling his mind into focus on the sights and sounds around him.
Screaming. Jessica.
He swung away from the chaos he’d created and searched the property for her. There, near the house, but she wasn’t alone. Another feral—Christ, how had he missed the second one?—was on top of her, brutalizing her.
He moved in an instant, ripping the Vampire from atop Jessica’s bloodied body, and slamming him to the ground. The feral’s pants were undone, infuriating Raven further, and he brought a heavy boot down to demolish the animal’s future prospects. A high pitched scream escaped from the creature, but was cut off a second later as Raven relieved him of his head.
Raven stood panting over the carnage for a moment, trying to regain control of himself before kneeling beside Jessica. Her clothes were torn, and her neck and shoulder were mangled and raw. He reached for her wound, his hand hovering above the mess of it. Was she even alive? He couldn’t hear anything but his own heavy breathing, so he held his breath and listened.
There—a pulse. It was faint, but unmistakable.
“Jessica,” he whispered, moving his hand to her face. Wake up,” he begged, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Wake up.”
“’m awake,” she muttered, her eyes fluttering, then, thank gods, opening. “Thought you were gone,” she said,
a single tear escaping one eye.
“Never gone,” Raven said, gently pulling her into his arms. “I’ll never leave you,” he promised, lifting her and heading for the house. The stake was still protruding from his chest, and the effort of carrying her pulled at the wound. He would have to remove it eventually, but he was afraid he would be weakened by blood loss, and he needed to take care of Jessica first. At least the feral had missed his heart.
Her blood was calling to him, as it always did, the honeysuckle and wine scent of it intoxicating. But instead of being tempted, the beast was nervous.
His own feral side was afraid for the girl’s life. In fact, it had been the beast who had warned him that Jessica was in danger.
Which made Raven wonder. If the beast had been focused on Jessica, what part of him was enjoying that bloodbath?
Chapter Fifty-Eight
M alcolm stretched his legs out beneath the table he now occupied. He decided to go to Buzz’s. It was too much work tonight to fight off the human females that frequented Good Times, and besides, a “buzz” was exactly what he was after.
He was well into his fourth shot of tequila, and the fiery liquid was starting to do its job. His metabolism made getting drunk difficult, staying drunk even harder, but he had every intention of pulling it off tonight.
Jessica was, as usual, in some kind of trouble, only now he was part of the problem. He slammed back another shot, and signaled the barkeep. “Make it a double,” he called when the wolf behind the counter acknowledged him. It was time to become part of the solution.
Malcolm had decided to trust Jessica’s good sense as far as Raven was concerned, but there were the Werewolves to consider. As much as he hated Vampires, the wolves were in heavy competition for the “most likely to screw up Jessica’s life” mantle.
