Blinding Light (The Bloodmarked Trilogy Book 2)

by Alicia Deters

  Oh, shit.

  Now, I was thinking of other ways he could keep me up all night, and I wanted to strangle him simply for being the cause of this annoying roller coaster ride of lust and frustration, and everything in between and on the outside of those two things.

  He inched closer and the heat rolled off him in waves. Then, the jackass put his hands on my hips, rubbing his thumbs lazily up and down the thin material on my back, catching slightly at the edge of my jeans.

  He knew what I was thinking. I still didn’t know how he did, but I knew we had some sort of freaky connection. He always seemed to pick up on my thoughts when they involved him, or maybe he simply enjoyed taking advantage of my embarrassment.

  Clint was still staring but shook his head loose from the Gavin trance and glanced back to me. “What kind of bad people are you talking about, Lucy? Are they going to come beat down my door to get to you? Should I be worried?”

  Normally, I would say anyone in my life was automatically in danger by association, but I had no intention of bringing Clint in on any of this. The cops were done with me and had no more reason to chase me, and the assassins had no way of tracing me here. We were safe here, for tonight.

  “No, Clint. You’ll be fine. We just need a place to crash for the night, and then we’ll be gone and no trouble will come to you. I promise. You’ll never have to see me again after tonight. Please.”

  He looked back at Gavin and hesitated. “Who is this guy, your boyfriend or something?”

  “Hi. Gavin West,” he said and extended his hand. Clint grasped it cautiously. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend. I’m sorry to trouble you like this so late, but we really could use an anonymous place to stay for the night,” he said politely.

  He was so good at the kind and courteous thing, but at the moment, it was the whole casual boyfriend usage that dented up the inside of my sternum. Willing my heart to settle before it tore out of its cage, I focused on my former boss.

  “Why can’t you go to a hotel?”

  “It’s too risky. They will be watching the obvious places, or most of them. I don’t want to take that chance. Please, we wouldn’t ask if it was going to put you in danger.”

  “I don’t know,” he deliberated. “Lucy, all of this is so strange. First, you disappear on me. Then, I find out the cops are looking for you. Now, it’s like you’re in trouble with the mob or something.”

  “Please, Clint. I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t need your help. But I do. Clint, please help us,” I begged.

  Wow. A year ago, I’d have laughed if someone told me I’d be asking anyone for help. The words tasted like battery acid in my mouth, but at least they made it past my lips.

  Gavin’s hands traveled to my upper arms, gently massaging the tense muscles. I wasn’t sure if it was to assuage the direness of our situation or because he knew how difficult it was for me to admit I needed help. Either way, I wasn’t stopping him.

  Clint scrutinized me before answering, “I always liked you, Lucy. You were always honest with me. You’re a sassy little shit. But you’re honest.”

  Gavin tried, unsuccessfully, to cover a snort. I whipped my head around to give him my fiercest glare. This, of course, only added to his amusement.

  Clint continued like nothing happened. “I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. My daughter isn’t with me tonight. You can sleep in her room. There’s room for one in her bed, but I can lay some blankets out on the floor. Trust me, the floor is much more comfortable than that damn couch.”

  “Thank you.” I exhaled the breath I was holding.

  He led us up the stairs into a small living room. Attached to it was an equally small kitchen. He wasn’t lying about the couch, either. I didn’t have to sit in it to agree the floor was the better option.

  It looked like it had been dragged from the destruction of a nuclear holocaust. The fabric on the arms was so deteriorated the wood poked through it. Tears in the seat cushions revealed chewed up foam, probably from the post nuclear cockroaches snacking on them. They were so worn down they didn’t really offer much padding from the protruding springs below them.

  Who was I kidding? At this point, that couch looked like five-star accommodations. One would think I’d be well rested after a four-day coma, but it seemed the transformation was just as taxing as the fighting. I was ready to pass out anywhere my head landed.

  Clint disappeared around the corner and came back holding a t-shirt for Gavin. “Sorry, it might not fit so well, but it’s the biggest I have.”

  He handed it over, and Gavin took it gratefully. “Thank you. It will be fine.”

  “Do I even want to ask why you’re missing a shirt?”

  “Probably better off not knowing,” Gavin offered.

  “Right, well, okay then. My daughter’s room is through this hallway.” He led us to the end of a short hall to the last door on the left and flipped on the light. He moved out of the way enough for us to squeeze past him, revealing a room with a twin size bed and a tad more floor space than bed space. There were shelves covered in little girl toys and figurines. The walls were a pale pink, and a Princess Sofia comforter draped the foot of the bed.

  Clint ducked into an adjacent linen closet and reappeared in the doorway holding a stack of extra blankets and pillows. Gavin graciously accepted them as Clint nodded in response.

  “Well, I’ll let you two get settled. There’s cereal in the pantry and milk in the fridge if you’re hungry when you wake up. I’ll have to get up early to open the shop, but I’ll leave the key on the counter for you to lock up when you leave. Just run it over to me before you go.”

  “We’ll be out of here before you leave,” I said.

  “Oh, ok. Um, goodnight then,” he said as he turned to leave.

  “Clint,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he paused at the door and turned back, his hand resting on the door handle.

  “Thank you. For everything. I mean it. I really appreciate this. And for what it’s worth, I couldn’t have asked for a better boss.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, I know. Anyone else probably would have fired you before putting up with that mouth of yours,” he admitted. “You’re welcome, Lucy. Good luck to you.” At that, he closed the door and padded down the hall.

  Gavin chuckled as he laid out blankets on the floor, forming a makeshift bed.

  “You have something to say?” I challenged him. When he kept quiet, shaking his head back and forth, I sighed. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m so bitchy? I’m not that bad.”

  He laughed and turned to me, noticing my folded arms and raised brow. Scowling at him, I shot rusty metal stakes out of my eyes, daring him to say something. He prowled into my personal space, and I let out a ragged breath that was unwittingly held captive.

  “No, you’re not that bad.” He leaned down to whisper the rest. “In fact, you can be very nice when you want to be.”

  His ice blue eyes melted into the liquid fire that has always been incredibly dangerous to my hormones. There were so many cringe-worthy responses sparkling in those blue flames, and I knew he had it in him to rise to the occasion.

  Instead, the warmth cooled and he turned away to lie down on the hard floor. He must have been pretty wiped out if he wasn’t willing to toe the line between flirting and full disclosure.

  Feeling a rare form of nice, I changed the subject. “You can have the bed if you want it. I think you’ve been through enough the past few days.”

  Without hesitation, he replied, “Lucille, take the damn bed. We’ve both been through a lot. And don’t argue with me about it like I know you’re dying to.”

  So it was Lucille again. He tended to use my full name when he was all business, and it was Ms. Masters when he was bossing me around. He eased down onto his back and settled in under the blankets, folding his arms behind his head. He met my gaze.

  “Now who’s the bitchy one?” It wasn’t my fault I liked to argue. It was that damned tone of his that made me
want to. If he weren’t so domineering, we’d get along splendidly. For the most part.

  He smiled at my response but let it drop and closed his eyes. Wow. I think hell just froze over. He didn’t even try to sneak in the last word. He really was more drained than he let on. I flipped off the light and decided that maybe we were both taking baby steps toward a more mature relationship. Or partnership. Or whatever it was.

  I kicked off my boots and quickly stripped out of my pants before sliding into the bed. I briefly glimpsed the streetlights reflecting off his eyes and saw something raw there. And I knew from past experience that this vertigo sensation was a product of the connection between us, allowing me to feel what he was feeling. I could have passed it off as my own desire if not for that telltale sign.

  Well, I guess that answered the recurring question of whether or not he wanted me. The jury was still out on the deeper stuff, though. But I was not thinking about this anymore. Nope, done with the headaches tonight. Nothing but me and this oh so wonderful bed.

  I was half asleep when his tired voice drifted up to me. “Goodnight, Lucy.” And we were back to Lucy again, huh? Even through the exhaustion, I could tell he was smiling, clearly amused by something.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked warily, not prepared to delve into another argument.

  “Just you… surrounded by all that bubblegum pink. I never see you wear pink, and now you’re cocooned in it. It’s so girly and…”

  “You can shut up now.”

  “Cute,” he finished. “It’s adorable, really.”

  “I like you a lot better when you’re unconscious,” I said dryly.

  “That’s not true, and I like you better in pink,” he teased.

  “No, you don’t,” I said.

  He grew quiet, and I thought he fell asleep. Then, he added, “You’re right. I like you in dark grey much better.”

  Dark grey? When had I worn dark grey? When I thought he would say more, I waited. I waited until I heard his breathing level out. Then, I fell asleep.

  †

  I shot straight up, clutching the blanket. My breathing was heavy, but not because I suffered from oxygen deprivation. Not an issue anymore. Apparently, even vampires had nightmares. And this particular one was especially brutal, because it was a memory. It really happened.

  I killed a man. I killed a human being.

  Gavin was at my side instantly. “Lucy, what is it? What’s wrong?” His arms encircled me, and his hand lifted to my face. Gently, he tilted it back until I met his concerned stare.

  I tried squeezing my eyes shut against the tears, but it was useless. They were wrenched free, along with the rest of my nightmare.

  “I killed him,” I confessed. “He was only trying to help me and I killed him.” My eyes went from a steady leak to faucets turned up to full blast. “Guess the monster finally came out to play,” I spat, my self-loathing returning with a vengeance.

  “No, Lucy, you’re not a monst-,”

  “Look at me!” I whisper shouted. “How did I become this way? He’s dead because of me,” I said, dipping my head in shame.

  “Who, Lucy? Who did you kill?” His forehead creased in worry and his brows pinched together.

  “The man in the street.”

  Gavin’s fingers ghosted over my frown lines, intent on comforting me, but I was trapped in the memory. My mouth switched to autopilot and continued to reminisce. “The assassin… He stabbed me in the back. Literally. I was in so much pain, and I couldn’t heal. I remembered I just wanted it to end. But then, something else took hold. I yearned for something I couldn’t name.”

  He listened attentively and nodded for me to keep going.

  “I… I heard his heartbeat and smelled him when he came near. I tried to stop him, but he wanted to help me. That’s when my fangs made their debut appearance, and I knew. I knew what I would do and couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to at that point. I wanted to drain him. I wanted to kill him. And I did,” I sobbed and couldn’t speak anymore.

  He held me tightly while the tremors racked me. “Lucy, how do you know you killed him? Did you see him die in front of you?”

  My gaze shot to his, gaging whether or not he was serious. I knew what I did. There was no way he could have lived. I took a lot of blood. “I didn’t need to see it happen. I was too far gone into the transformation, but when I saw him after I… after I bit him, he was so pale, and his breathing was shunted. There’s no way.”

  “Yes, there is a way. Because he is alive.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. Lucy, I know he’s fine because you would know if he died with absolute certainty. You remember that you’re different, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Well, you would be able to feel if he perished. You were born of the Light, Lucy. Light is energy and connects all things. Other vampires aren’t connected because they are Dark, and when you’re in the dark, you’re just stumbling around aimlessly.”

  He wasn’t making much sense, but something in his voice rang true. “You felt his emotions, didn’t you?” When I nodded, he continued. “Well, by drinking his blood, you made a connection with him. His energy passed to you, so a part of him is in you.”

  Well, that sounded weird and kind of creepy. “So does that mean I’m going to feel what he feels all the time?” I thought of the other guy from the supermarket. Was I going to feel him too? I could barely handle my own emotional baggage. I didn’t need to manage anyone else’s.

  “No. Connections made with humans are much weaker because their… life force, if you will, is much more fragile. Nothing like a vampire’s. You will only be aware of it when they pass.”

  That made sense. Sort of. I was willing to accept anything these days. Relief washed through me knowing the man was still alive. But then, something else occurred to me.

  “So that’s how you do it? From my blood. When you… saved my mom. That explains this freaky connection and how you can always read my mind.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t actually read your mind. Can you read mine?”

  “No, thank God. I’m not sure I want to spend time in that big head. I’d get lost.”

  “Very funny. We can feel what the other feels and, sometimes, are so attuned to the other we can even sense where the other is.”

  “Huh. So that’s how you always seemed to show up out of nowhere when I was in trouble. You don’t think that information was important enough to share say, I don’t know, like a few months ago?”

  He flashed a wicked grin. I wanted to slap him. “Not without telling you the whole sordid story and risk you killing me. And let’s face it. You would be devastated if I was gone.”

  “Hmm, I think your ego would save you. It’s so big it’s impenetrable.”

  “I don’t think I have an ego. I really don’t know where you’re getting that from.”

  “And I don’t think I have anger issues.”

  He smiled wider but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  “Wait a second,” I said. “If you can always feel what I’m feeling, why doesn’t it always work the other way around? Why does it only come every once in a while?”

  “Because I can hide my emotions better than you can,” he said innocently, which earned him a pink pillow in the face. And it was definitely no girly hit.

  “You are going to show me how to block them. Soon,” I demanded.

  He laughed. “Well, all it takes is a level of calm. If you don’t have anger issues like you say, then it shouldn’t be a problem for you,” he said sweetly.

  He dodged the pillow this time. Barely. When he observed my expression, he doubled over in quiet laughter.

  “We should try to get some sleep tonight and head out first thing.”

  “You really can walk in the sun, can’t you?” I asked.

  “Impressed?”

  “You only have the capacity to annoy me, not impress me.”

  “Yeah, you’re impressed. You’ve always been awed by
my badassness.”

  “Wow, ego check, Gavin. Badassness? Really?”

  “You’re starting to rub off on me. And it’s not ego when it’s true. And before you try to deny it, I can sense your admiration, remember? Among other things.”

  “Ok, first of all, shut up. And secondly, you wish I would rub off on you,” I said seductively to try and unnerve him like he always did to me.

  “Very mature, Lucille. Haven’t I always told you not to be distracted by sex?”

  “Yes, but maybe you should take your own advice. You may be good at blocking me, but that connection is a two way street. And don’t get all high and mighty, preaching to me about maturity when you always rise to the occasion. Your thoughts are every bit as immature as mine, but you have this knack for playing the maturity card when we get too close to the truth.”

  “The truth about what, Lucy?”

  “You know exactly what truth I’m talking about. And one of these days we will have to have a mature conversation about the truth. But not tonight because I’m tired, and you’ve already wasted too much of my beauty rest.”

  I turned away from him, flipping on my side, but not before I caught the smile he was trying so hard to hide.

  “Goodnight, Lucille,” he said all too sweetly.

  Ugh!

  He still had to have the last word, and he was using my full name to get under my skin. But all this talk about maturity made me want to prove that I was the bigger person. So I bit my lip and let him keep the last word, even though my middle finger was poised directly beneath the covers.

  †

  When I woke the next morning, a sliver of pale light filtered through the window blinds. It was the light before the sun broke free of the horizon. I must have only gotten a few hours of sleep, but I was refreshed and ready to go.