by T. A. Grey
Everything was bright, the blues too golden and shimmering. He blinked and turned his gaze away even as he heard the stomping steps coming for him. He turned around and found a small army of dancing Grayson’s, looking old, beat-up and sick, dancing toward him, staring at him. The women, all with Anita’s face, came closer.
Turning, he ran for the shadow. Sweat dripped down his temples.
Then the stomping grew loud and fast. They were coming for him. A woman screeched. The terrible cry made the hair stand up on his arms. They ran after him, screaming like wailing banshees. The men, him, grabbed at him, jerking his arms back and wrenching his jacket from him in the process. He had to make it across the dance floor. He just knew it. If he didn’t, they’d kill him. That’s what they wanted. To suck his soul from him as theirs had been.
He approached the hallway, his leather boots slapping the floor in loud beats. Someone gripped his hair and yanked him back nearly sending him crashing to the floor. He righted himself though, and darted away before those cold, dead hands could grab him.
Finally, he reached the hallway. Pitch black nothing stared back at him. He didn’t even know if it was a hallway. It looked like one in that it looked like a path. Yet, nothing but black atmosphere hung there. Where the shadow had disappeared to.
Grayson spun around. They were on him. The wailing banshees, the dead Grayson’s. Pale hands with vivid blue veins, wrinkled like an old person’s hands with discolored spots of sickness. They reached for him and he pulled his head back at the last minute—and fell backward into the hall.
The sensation of falling lasted for only seconds. Grayson’s body undulated in the air, free-floating; tingles caressed his skin from lightheadedness.
The image changed. That quickly. He was no longer falling, no longer in the ballroom. The dancers didn’t try to grab him. He was at the small lake where he and Anita had first consummated their mating. A night he’d recently shared with only one other person—Arabella.
The scene was as real as if he stood there right now. He could smell the grass and moist earth. The water rippled from the breeze. The small pool of water rested in a secluded area by Castle Glimmeric. Trees laden with heavy snow surrounded him. His breath formed clouds as he breathed. But the water, he remembered, had been surprisingly warm when he and Anita had gotten into it.
A rustling sound drew his attention. The sound of someone walking toward him. He came to his full height and lifted his chin, prepared to deal with whatever came his way.
His heart clenched so hard moisture threatened to spill form his eyes. This was his and Anita’s spot. The first time they’d made any kind of connection to one another and the first night they ever made love.
He caught sight of a figure weaving in and out through the trees. A woman with dark hair and a peasant’s dress. Already he clenched his fists, preparing himself to meet his mate again. To face her for the crimes he’d committed, to be finally punished for his sins.
The woman stepped into the clearing, stopped, and smiled gently at him.
He shook his head but that didn’t change the face any.
“Mama?”
Her smile lit up her face and something cracked inside him.
“No, it can’t be.”
“Why can it not be?” she asked. Hot droplets spilled down his face as he struggled to grab hold. She spoke in Turkish. Her voice, that strong, sweet voice—he hadn’t heard it in so long.
“You are dead,” he said.
She nodded, still smiling. Like it wasn’t a bad thing. “Come, let’s get our feet wet.” She walked to the edge of the lake and sat on a rock at the side of it. She lifted the dirty bottom of her peasant’s dress, the same kind she’d always worn. She’d owned four dresses and she was always repairing the same ones over and over again. That’s how poor they’d been. “Don’t be afraid.”
Afraid. Was he afraid? He didn’t know, but he listened to her and joined her at the water. The water felt real around his toes with just enough heat to enjoy.
“The moon is beautiful.”
He didn’t spare it a glance, too busy memorizing her straight nose, her delicate eyebrows; everything was exactly as he remembered. Yet, he also felt like he was seeing something new for the first time.
“What are you doing here?”
“You’ve made me a very proud mama, Grayson, my boy.”
Grayson, my boy. Words she used to call him every day. He swallowed over a lump in his throat.
“I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve gotten people hurt. Anita’s dead because of me. I’ve brought nothing but shame to you.”
She smiled gently, like she understood. “To live is to suffer, my boy. With the suffering comes the possibility for endless happiness though. You must forgive yourself.”
“No, I can’t.”
She stood and came to him, running a hand over his hair as she used to do. And then she leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“You’re forgiven.”
His face crumpled. And for the first time in his life he cried for the pain he’d caused, for the pain he’d endured, and he wept for the loss of his two miscarried babies and Anita.
Gentle arms wrapped around him. “My sweet boy,” his mother cooed. She began humming.
An undefinable amount of time slipped by while his tears dried up. His mama finished singing then stood. He followed after her but she held her hand up.
“You have to stay here. I love you, Grayson. Reach and you will find happiness.”
Don’t go.
She shook her head as if she could hear his inner thoughts. Then she smiled at him and walked back into the forest, weaving in and out, until she disappeared.
He took a step forward thinking to go after her, but the earth shook. He wobbled on his feet, nearly falling over as an earthquake rocked the world.
His eyes flew open, shattering the dream. Instantly alert for danger, he knew something was wrong.
The dream wasn’t shaking. He was shaking because what sounded like a bomb just went off downstairs. Arabella awoke screaming, jumping out of bed.
Grayson raced to throw some clothes on. “Get dressed, lock the door behind me and bar yourself in.”
“What’s going on? I don’t understand!”
Screams came from down below. Grayson strapped on his weapons, blades and his guns. “Vincent’s not waiting on me to come to him.”
She gasped. “Is this my fault because I didn’t track him?” She was beginning to hyperventilate. Grayson crossed to her and cupped her face.
“Listen to me, Arabella. Put your clothes on, grab the gun off my dresser. The safety is off and the bullets are silver. Shoot to kill, got me?”
“I’m not staying here. I’m coming with you. Don’t you dare leave me here!” Wide, frightened eyes stared up at him.
He gritted his teeth. “Be careful.” He kissed her hard. “I love you, too.”
Then he left while she stood there stunned. By time she got dressed and came after him, he’d be away ahead of her.
Grayson sprinted down the hall.
“Get down! Get down!” he heard Dom shouting. He’d never heard his brother so frantic. A woman was screaming and the sound of gunfire and groans sounded like a war zone.
Grayson came onto the staircase that lead down to the front door and spotted the enemy—Vincent’s men. Armed with assault rifles, blades, and bombs they wreaked havoc through the mansion. Grayson came up behind the guard on the staircase. Unspotted, he quickly shot a bullet through the vampire’s head. The body fell, unheard over the chaos.
He took two more down, three more as he made his way toward the screaming, his heartbeat pounding violently; adrenaline surged like molten lava in his veins. He felt indestructible—a dangerous combination, for them.
Grayson made it to the bulk of the mess. One corner of the house had been blown up. He peered into the room through a large chunk of missing wall, keeping his back to it. Inside, he spotted Felicity screaming and
Dominic caught in a hand-to-hand combat with a Were. Grayson aimed and fired. The Were dropped with a yelp, dead.
Dom spared him a glance before picking up Felicity in his arms and carrying her. “We have to get out of here.”
“No! Beth was right there. She was standing right there when it went off. We have to search for her!”
Oh, shit. She pointed at the part of the living room that was now black, charred, and burning. Grayson kept his mouth shut. Dom’s gaze said it all—he already knew it.
Beth was dead.
Rat, rat tat, rat!
At the sound of gunfire, Grayson ran toward the commotion. A thump told him someone just fell to the floor. He ran into the den and found his step-mother clutching her stomach as she dropped to her knees, blood spitting from her lips.
Grayson aimed and fired. His bullet caught the man and put him down. “Are you okay?” he asked.
A blade pierced his side. He turned and forced the blade out, throwing it back at the man who’d attacked him. He stalked to the beast—a Were, another one of Vincent’s men. Growling, he palmed his knife, the blade kept sharp enough to slice through skin with the faintest of pressure.
He grabbed the Were’s head by the hair and cut his head clean off.
“I’m fine. Go help the others.”
Grayson took off once again. He came across Vas and Lucas, both worried and angry. Diane shuffled into the room.
Vas said, “I cleared the south wing as far as I know. We’ll have to do more sweeps to be sure.”
“I checked what’s left of the east side and the basement,” Lucas said. “I took a few bites and scratches along the way but nothing I can’t survive. Where is everyone else?”
Dom spotted them and carried a crying Felicity to the group. “What happened, is she hurt?” Vas asked.
Dom shook his head, looking grim. “No,” was all he said.
“She’s dead. She’s gone!” she cried.
Lucas stiffened noticeably. “What did you say?” he said harshly.
There was sympathy in his brother’s eyes for Lucas. They might not know all the details but they’d all seen the way Lucas looked at her. Something special had been there, a connection. Grayson knew just how much those broken connections hurt.
“Let’s gather everyone and get out of here,” Grayson said.
“Whom are we missing?” Dom asked, all business.
He did a quick count of heads. “The butler and a bunch of our men.” He left out Felicity’s friend’s name. “I’m going to go get Arabella, then we’ll pile into my SUV and get the hell out of here.”
He turned and headed for the stairs. When he peered up the staircase, he jerked, then steeled himself.
A man held Arabella by the neck, Grayson’s own gun pointed at her temple. Locked, loaded, with the safety off. She struggled, fire in her eyes, nails digging into the man’s wrist. The man spotted Grayson and dragged her to the balcony at the top of the staircase overlooking the foyer. She spotted him and bared her teeth. She didn’t look scared, just angry. Her courage and strength impressed him. She was growing stronger before his very eyes it seemed.
“I shot him twice before he took the gun from me.”
“Let her go,” Grayson said. A warning.
The man was dark-skinned with curly, black hair and tall enough he’d have to duck to move through most doorways. He was cut hard with muscle. The body of a trained a killer. One of Vincent’s best men most likely. He fidgeted with something in his pocket and Grayson raised his gun aiming it level between the man’s eyes.
The man laughed, seeing everything. “You pull that trigger and I pull mine. She’ll be dead by time the bullet reaches me.”
His eye twitched.
The man, definitely vampire, pulled a piece of metal out from his pocket. “This,” he said, grunting as he tried to hold a struggling Arabella still while keeping the gun on her, “is a gift from Vincent Donato and his sons.”
He pressed the object against Arabella’s neck. Her body jolted as a piercing scream tore from her throat. She jerked and fought, her skin no doubt burning from the silver. Grayson went into a rage. He traced up the stairs in a blur of movement, knocking the man away with a vicious backhand.
They grew locked in battle as the man charged him. They crashed over the balcony railing. Arabella screamed. Others did too as they crashed hard a story below. The floor caved in as it looked like a meteor crashed into it.
The man hit him square across the face, loosening teeth and scrambling his brain. But Grayson didn’t lose his focus. In fact, he’d never remembered feeling so strongly focused in a fight before. Grayson reached into the hidden sheathe beneath his jacket and pulled out his blade. It wasn’t nearly as big as the knife he preferred. The blade he pulled out was thin and meant for throwing. He took it and stabbed deep into the vampire’s belly whose eyes flew wide in shock.
Arabella appeared behind him, his gun in her hand. She was holding her neck but her aim stayed true. “Get off of him, you piece of shit, before I pull this trigger and end you.” She spoke every word with ferocity.
The man slowly backed away, climbing to his knees and putting his hands in the air, panting. Grayson stood and took the gun from Arabella. He couldn’t help but look at her neck where the skin was inflamed red. He’d marked her with the Donato family seal. The silver had done its job eating through her skin to leave an embedded tattoo of the Donato lion crest.
Silver never healed. The mark would forever be burned into her skin.
She looked up at him, and of all the things she could do, she smiled at him; a tremulous smile that warmed him from the inside out.
He aimed and pulled the trigger, the gunshot explosively loud. The man collapsed in a heap. To finish the job he’d have to cut off the man’s head or cut out his heart. There were too many people around for any of that.
Grayson ushered everyone out of the house, made a call to TJ at work and told her to get a team out here now. They had some bodies to take care of. As of right now, Blackmoore Estate was compromised.
CHAPTER 34
Arabella finished scrawling on the piece of paper and quickly folded it into a small, thick square and stuffed it in her back pocket. Damn, her heart was racing. She felt like she was doing something she ought not to be doing, such as rummaging through her dad’s personal belongings as a kid. Yeah, it was the same awful feeling.
She returned to the bed and opened her duffle when a deep male voice startled her. “Where are you going?”
Arabella spun around, clutching her heart to keep it from jumping out of her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You’re packing a bag, I see. Care to explain why?”
While her face formed a perky smile her fingers couldn’t stop twitching. “Yes, well, I can’t stay here now, right? There’s an enormous chunk of the house missing. Bugs and animals can crawl in. It’s just no good,” she joked. He didn’t smile or laugh which only made her more nervous. Turning back around, she shoved the rest of her clothes and doo-dads into the duffle.
“Like I said. Where are you going?”
“Home.”
He didn’t say anything for several minutes. The whole time she could feel his presence at the door. She pretended she didn’t care, that everything was all right, that a great woman named Beth wasn’t murdered today; that none of this had happened.
She went to pack something else but realized she had nothing. She’d brought very little with her and she’d leave with as much. With little left to do and him blocking the door, she headed into the bathroom and checked her reflection; the sight of the blistering red scar on her neck made her flinch. It would never go away. The Donato family seal would forever be on her neck.
“Fuckers…” she muttered, tenderly prodding the area with her fingertips.
Grayson stepped into the bathroom instantly making the space feel tiny when it was anything but. “That’s putting it mildly I’d say. Let me look at it.”
/> Her breath caught as he closed in on her. He turned her head gently to the side as he took a close look at the mark. “I want to shoot him again.”
The sudden, surprising statement made her bark with laughter. He didn’t look in the least like laughing. He looked rather severe, actually. The next thing she knew, he pulled her into his arms in a fierce embrace. She was helpless not to cling to him; thrilled that he was alive and well.
“Nothing that’s happened changes what I said earlier.”
She stiffened but he continued to hold her and rub her back making her both tense but calm at the same time. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where things moved to from here. They weren’t in a relationship and things were challenging to say the least. She could not think of any reasonable answers to their problem.
She pulled back from the hug and kissed him full on the mouth, unable to abstain from touching him. It was a deep, sweet kiss that went on and on. It was the kind of kiss that made you forget time all together. On a soft moan, she broke the connection. He needed to know. She had to be brave and look him in the eyes and just say it. So she did.
“I love you. I do.” Her voice came out softer than a whisper and uneven.
His dark gaze met hers. “Good, then you’re not leaving.”
“Wait, what?” She drew back. Not quite the response she’d been expecting. Could repeating it back to her really be so hard, she thought? Don’t be so petulant.
“We’re in this together now. I love you, you love me. It’s done. I will take care of you and I can’t have you alone at your house with Vincent out for blood. It isn’t safe.”
And this, she realized, was the crux of the problem. “So, you’re still going after Vincent?”
His face tensed but he gave an affirmative nod.
She released the breath she’d been holding. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“It needs to be done. After this attack, here at our family home, there’s no going back. Arabella, I’m finishing this one way or the other and I need to know you’re safe.”
