by Mary Hughes
All the Alliance vampires scattered, including Elias and Rey, leaving bewildered shadow goons. Carrying Ryker’s body, Race hustled me behind Adelaide’s Heart.
There, I held his head to his neck. Nothing happened.
“You’re an ancient vampire, Ryker. Heal!”
Still nothing happened. My heart throbbed cold in my chest.
“Damn it, Ryker—I forgive you.” I forced the words through a thick throat. “I forgive you for being a vampire. I forgive you for not telling me the whole truth. I hope you forgive me, too. Now, please, call on that ancient power of yours and heal.”
Finally, finally muscle and bone rejoined, the bone with a little snick. Skin resealed before my eyes. Race set him on his feet.
Ryker drew a shuddering breath. He would live.
Relief hit me, so stark and fierce it was more painful than a sword to the gut. I started yelling at him, screaming incomprehensible words at the top of my lungs.
He smiled wearily. “You were worried about me. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Flabbergasted, I stopped screaming for two seconds—and then I wrapped both arms around him and squeezed him like I’d never let go, my heart flooding with love for him.
Liese hit something in the van. Lights burst brilliantly from the bar on top. The few shadow vamps who tried to mist away went up in flames. Blue- and red-badges hissed and cringed back.
But all the silver-badges stalked toward the van.
Behind them, Strigorul was a sand sculpture of himself. Not dead yet, though. If they gave him blood… He could still be brought back, and all this would be for nothing.
Releasing Ryker, I drew a silver stake and turned to rush out.
Race caught my shoulder in a vice-like grip.
“Let me go!” I struggled against his hand. “You don’t understand. If Strigorul gets help—”
A flash of light and a whoosh-boom tore through my words.
A fireball had emerged from a port on the front of the van. It razed the Destroyer’s flunkies.
It blew the Destroyer away. Blasted straight through the sand sculpture of his body, fragments flying in all directions, the bigger pieces flaming, the smaller flaring before dying out, like scraps of a firecracker.
Utter silence shuddered in the aftermath. I stood there, hardly able to take it in as burning bits of vampire fluttered to the ground. The monster who’d destroyed my family, who’d dominated my life for so long.
It didn’t seem possible he was gone.
A red-badged vampire limped out from under the same wooden playground ramp Rey had used as shelter. “To me,” he bellowed hoarsely.
Those shadow vamps who hadn’t been stunned by the blast or incinerated loped off into the night.
“Split,” Logan bellowed. “B-team, protect our king! A-team, with me. Let’s make sure those fuckers don’t come back.”
Race put one hand on my arm and the other on Ryker’s. His gaze held a question. Ryker nodded. Satisfied, my father turned and joined the Alliance vampires chasing after the fleeing shadow vamps.
I’d have chased after him, but I’d burned all my energy facing down the vampire who’d destroyed my life. My sister’s life.
“Is he really gone?” I asked Ryker.
“Yes.” He wrapped me in his arms. “He’s nothing more than dust.”
We’d beaten him.
I clung to Ryker, my king, now whole again. He held me against his chest, his arms strengthening as my trembling slowed, his heart steady beneath my ear. It was over.
Tonight…was a good night to live.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After the A-team finished the cleanup, Rey, Ryker, and I went back to my flat. Rey wanted to stay with Elias, but he was headed for Iowa for further “treatment.” They were going to get his ancient blood back in him, though they didn’t tell Rey that—or Elias either, really, having figured out the pair of them were lost in an imaginary world where Elias was a human and not one of the most freaking powerful vampires on the planet.
In my flat, I made coffee, which we took to the living room. We all sat down, Ryker and I on the couch and Rey in a chair, mugs of caffeine warming our chilled hands, in the silence of mutual exhaustion.
I was the first to break it. “How’d you do it?” I asked Ryker.
“Do what?”
“Get your hands on the liquid gold? Logan had it.”
He sipped his coffee. “When Greyson patted Logan’s hand, he took the serum. He passed it to me as we embraced, and I took on Greyson’s form to get close enough to the Destroyer to wound him. Thanks for the distraction. That was brilliant.”
“Brilliant,” my sister snorted. “UV flashlight, brilliant.”
We both looked at her.
“It’s funny.” Her gaze switched between us. “Oh, not another one.” She slumped in her chair.
“You’re tired, Rey,” I said. “Why don’t you stay here?”
She nodded as though it was a good idea. “No, I’d better be getting back to Chicago.”
“The house is wrecked.”
“That’s why I need to get back. Start the insurance claims and stuff.” She didn’t move.
“Help me out here,” I said to Ryker. “Tell her she’s not thinking straight. Make her stay the night, get some sleep.”
“What do you want me to do, compel her?” His arched brow told me what he thought of that idea. “I’ll try it if you want, but she’s an adult, and in this case, she’s right.”
I scowled at him.
He held up a placating palm. “Half right, anyway. Strigorul is defeated, yes. Some of Umbra’s troops got away, though. Troops which will carry the news of Greyson’s great weakness—your sister.”
I sucked in a chilled breath at the implications. “They’ll want to control her, to control him. You think they’ll search for her here?”
“And her home, her work, the homeless shelter. She needs to disappear.” His gaze switched to her. “I can help with that—”
“No, it’s okay.” Rey sighed. “I can take care of it.” She didn’t move, sipping coffee. “You think the Alliance will find Greyson’s antidote?”
“Yes,” I reassured her. “If they don’t, I will. I have all the clues.”
“The shipping label.”
“Among other things.” I mentally catalogued what we’d learned. The vampire factor, like the bacteria in Movile Cave. Our parents, whose real names might have been Gheorghe and Elenuta Keanu. All Romanian.
I sat up straight. “Those weird words Greyson kept saying. We thought he was hallucinating. What if he’d seen the intact label? What if he was repeating an address in Russian or Eastern European—or Romanian?”
“Chee oar moon day,” she murmured, frowning. “Chee oar…or chior? That means blind.” Then she slumped back. “That’s not an address.”
“No, but it could be a city name,” Ryker said admiringly. “Well done, Kat.”
“Thanks.” His praise warmed me—and after everything we’d been through, I let it, for a moment.
Then I took out my phone, calling up the picture he’d sent me of the fluoresced label, and shoved it across the coffee table to Rey. “What do you think?”
She stared a moment. “It could be…” She got out her own phone and tapped in letters. Her red-brown gaze lit, on fire. “Chiormunte. Blind Mountain, Romania. I think we have ourselves a city.”
“If the Alliance doesn’t find something first, you mean.”
“Right.” She set her mug down on a table and stood. “Well, if I’m going to disappear, I guess I’d better get going.”
“Wait.” I stared at her, surprised, as she moved lightning-fast to the front door. “You’ll need money—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll email. Can you take care of the insurance claim o
n the house? It’s still in both our names. I’ll send you the info.”
By the time I hefted myself off the couch, she’d already gone.
“Hell.” I stared at the door. “Sometimes I swear she moves almost as fast as you v-guys. And I didn’t get a goodbye hug.”
“It was probably hard enough for her to leave you.” Ryker lounged on his side of the couch, idly holding his mug, considering me. “You need to eat. Let’s go get you some dinner.”
“Like McBurgers? There’s not much fast food in town.”
“Not burgers. Something healthy. Are there any grocery stores nearby?”
“I’ve only been to the AllRighty-AllNighty.” I shrugged. “Great for beer and brats, but their salad offerings are a little thin. Your spy network didn’t fill you in?”
“Food isn’t usually my first concern. Besides, that’s what the repository of human knowledge is for.” He took his phone out. “Grocery stores near me.”
The nice Google lady responded, “Dur layben-mittle-jest-kaffed is on East Third and Jefferson.”
I glanced at his readout. Der Lebensmittelgeschaft.
“Family name, do you think?” I asked. “Not as bad as Enkidu.”
Ryker smiled as he rose. “It’s German. It means the grocery store.”
“Creative. I’ll drive.”
We took the Alliance sedan, which Logan had given to me for the duration of my stay here. The store was long closed, but Ryker, after disabling the external camera, misted inside then let me in through the employee door. “I turned off the security system. We won’t be interrupted.”
Leading me to the front of the store, he grabbed a cart and tooled it down the aisle. Casually, as if he and I were doing our weekly shopping.
I caught up to him as he dropped a box of whole wheat pasta into the cart.
“Why are you getting food?” I grabbed a mac and cheese and dropped it beside the pasta.
“I’m making us dinner.”
“You. You’re making spaghetti?”
“And a nice, healthy salad.” He arched that wry brow at me. “Arugula, I think, with pine nuts and raspberry vinaigrette. Toasted Italian bread spread with garlic butter and sprinkled with fresh-grated Parmesan. Oh, and perhaps mushroom caps stuffed with sausage and cream cheese would make a good appetizer.”
“But why?” I goggled at him. “You don’t eat.”
“True, but I drink. Speaking of.” Smiling, his body began to disintegrate from the bottom, collapsing into mist like the Cheshire Cat gone vampy. He streamed away while I gawked, sauntering back a moment later with a dark bottle in his hand. “Italian Chianti, 2011. Good year.”
“Fancy food plus wine?”
“Good wine,” he corrected, brow arched so high it went past caustic to downright smug.
“Like a date?”
That snapped the brow down. “No!” He wheeled the cart off.
I caught up again.
“Um…unless you want it to be.” He cut me a sideways glance, both embarrassed and hopeful.
Going on a date, with my vampire king. After I’d already admitted I loved him. A date, after I’d overturned deep-seated beliefs for him, after he’d nearly died for me. Going on a date, after we’d conquered the bastard who’d killed my parents.
Shouldn’t we already be past a simple, mundane date?
Yet, just strolling down the aisles with him, excitement bubbled inside me.
“Yeah,” I said, surprising us both. “A date would be fun. But you’d better pick up a wine uncorker thingy. I only ever buy screw-tops.”
After we swiped a credit card for everything but the wine at the self-checkout—I figured out how to turn the machine on but couldn’t manage the age override, so Ryker left cash for that—we returned to my flat.
While his nimble, capable hands dealt with food preparations, we talked. Oh, how we talked.
He doled out tales of the twists and turns of his long relationship with Elias, including a hilarious couple times he’d pretended to be his brother vampire.
I told him about summers at the lakefront with my family, trouncing everyone at Monopoly on game night, and my eighteenth birthday, when Rey took me out and I first got drunk, and how I kept hopping off my barstool to run around the room hugging all my new best friends.
Ryker nearly chopped off a finger because he was laughing so hard.
By the time I sat down to eat, I was nearly crying because it was all so blissfully, heart-breakingly normal. He uncorked the wine with a flourish and poured it into a pair of plastic tumblers, my only glasses.
A date. What for other people was part of life, we’d had to carve out of danger and horror. I began to see that, if we were ever to have a future, the king and I, we’d have to plan these times to relax. Cherish them.
I lifted my tumbler, my emotions thickening my throat. “To our date.”
He touched his to mine with a clack of plastic, and I sipped something that was not Chateau de Cheap. We were from two different worlds, but I loved him and he needed me. We’d work it out.
If he gets around to telling me about that soul-searing gaze thing, that is.
Once I started eating, I was surprised how hungry I was. The pasta was perfect, the sauce rich and flavorful, the pine nuts and ground sirloin adding just the right texture. The wine washed it all down with its own dry, oaky taste.
I drained the last drop and stood, weaving slightly. “Thanks. I needed this. Let’s get these dishes done, and then it’s bed for me.”
“You’re asleep on your feet.” Rising, he began gathering dishes, deftly, like he’d done everything. “I’ll take care of these.”
“You knocked at death’s door twice tonight. You need rest at least as much as me.” I plucked up the few things left on the table and followed him back to the kitchen.
“Compromise?” He laid the dishes carefully in the sink. “We’ll rinse off what we can and let the rest soak.”
“Sounds good.”
We worked in companionable silence. With both of us at it, it went fast, and five minutes later the dishes were stacked or soaking, and I was yawning toward bed.
“I’ll be heading off now. Good night.” At the bedroom door, Ryker waved a jaunty hand, ruined when he had to use it to cover a huge yawn of his own.
Sitting on the bed with a tired whump, I started prying off my boots. “How far do you have to go?”
“Not far.” He yawned again, so hard he shuddered with it.
“If it’s more than two feet, it’s too far. C’mon, take a load off.” Boots off but otherwise fully clothed, I scooted over on the bed. Patted the space beside me. “A nap will work wonders.”
As he eyed the bed, a strange expression crossed his face, the same aching longing frosted with pain that he’d worn when I’d first met him.
When I’d suggested that we become partners.
But now that I’d heard his story, I ached with sympathy for his pain.
“Or don’t.” I made it airy. “It’s just a bed. No strings attached.”
To emphasize the no-strings, I lay down on my side, back to him, and shut my eyes. Almost immediately I drifted toward sleep.
But not before his weight dipped the bed, and he lay down beside me with a sigh.
All is right with my world.
I slept.
…
Gingerly Ryker slid onto the mattress, careful not to touch Kat’s long beautiful body. He was certain he was doing the wrong thing. Tonight’s date had been truly intimate—a closeness, not of bodies, but of hearts. In sync, like long-married people.
But if he stayed, he’d do something to fuck this up. Drive her away. Touch her or bite her or love her…
Dozens of reasons against stretching out on the bed beside her. Only one reason for—he needed to, like a man dying
of thirst needed water. He lay on his back, so he didn’t surrender to the urge to cuddle her and make it worse.
On his back was uncomfortable. He flipped to his belly. No good. He turned onto his side, back to Kat. That seemed rude somehow.
He ended up on his side in a cuddle position anyway. But not touching. As long as he didn’t touch her, he’d be okay.
In her sleep, she scooted back until she was flush with him. He released a silent groan. The way she nestled into him almost demanded a snuggle.
He surrendered. Curling himself around her, he draped one arm protectively over her.
With a sigh, she settled in, her body relaxing beneath his. Signaling her trust in him. His heart gave a ragged thump.
This might be wrong. But the naturalness, the rightness, flooded him with a deep pleasure.
Not just right. Good.
He normally didn’t give a rat’s ass about feeling good. He did what was right, end of story. But this…to be wanted, needed…to belong…happiness filled his chest like a glowing light. He’d been cold and empty for such a very long time. A few moments wouldn’t hurt. Then he’d release her and turn away, so he wouldn’t kiss her or bite her or love her.
Closing his eyes, he savored the extraordinary feeling for only a moment…
…
A profound sense of peace filled me when I woke. Ryker snuggled up behind me, both of us fully clothed, but emotionally skin-to-skin.
Scary. And yet I wasn’t scared. I was happy.
He’d saved my life and the lives of my sister and friends. I’d accepted him as a good person. I wanted to give him something back.
And it was past time I accepted him fully.
Turning, I rose to one elbow to look down at him. His black lashes were long crescents against the bronzed skin of his cheekbones. Relaxed in sleep he carried echoes of the sweet little boy he must’ve been, before life had carved the man out of him.
The lashes opened, clever black eyes meeting mine. Only they weren’t completely clever, softened with sleep and, dare I say, bliss. A small smile curled his lips. “Good morning.”
