Undying Desire

by Jessica Lee

  “Kenric?” A female voice called out from the other side of the room, catching Arran’s attention. But based on the intense stare Kenric already had pinned on her, he’d tracked her from the moment they’d entered the apartment. “Kenric St. James?” A beautiful woman with long dark hair wearing a pair of loose cotton pants and white snug-fitting T-shirt eased forward. “Master of the infamous Enclave?” Kenric gave her an almost indiscernible nod, but it was there nonetheless.

  And then he spoke, one name barely uttered above a whisper. “Eve?”

  “What? You don’t recognize the daughter you left behind?” The question wafted across the room like a pebble tossed into calm waters. But in the next second, a storm surge raged on its heels.

  Eve cried out and went airborne. What the hell? Her arm reared up and back, sending a flash of light glimmering off a blade.

  Kenric! Reflex launched Arran into action. He lunged toward the other male, his only thought to protect the Enclave’s master. But before his boots landed, Eve stood between them.

  “Eve!” Guerin called out and was already over the bed and beside Arran.

  Kenric swung his arm wide, deflecting her first strike from his chest. “Don’t touch her!” he bellowed as the blade jabbed through his leather jacket. Arran watched as Eve carved a path down Kenric’s biceps, ripping the material and his flesh wide. The metallic scent of blood filled the air. Eve yanked the knife free and froze, her chest heaving. Each labored breath she released felt like a second ticking off the timer of a bomb ready to ignite.

  But Kenric stood there. Silent. Motionless.

  What the hell was he doing?

  “Come on!” she cried, breaking the eerie stillness. “Fight me.”

  “I’m not going to fight you.”

  “Yes, you are,” she growled and tossed her hair back. “You’ve wanted me and my mother out of your life for centuries.” Eve scoffed. “Well, one down and only one more to go.” She pulled the blade a little higher, a crimson stain still glistening on the tip. “But I’m not going down quite that easily.”

  “Dear God…Eve!” Guerin surged forward, but Arran turned and blocked him. “Get out of my way,” he growled into Arran’s face, shoving against the hold he had on Guerin’s upper body. Guerin glanced over his shoulder toward the pair. “Don’t do this, Eve,” he added. His voice descended to more of a plea.

  “I have no intention of fighting you. Tonight or ever.” Kenric’s tone was calm, unwavering, picking up where they’d left off. “You’re hurt. Confused. I barely know you. Why would I want you dead?”

  “Damn you!” Eve cried out right before a loud crash ricocheted off the walls. Arran spun. Eve had Kenric’s back against the wall, her blade at his throat. Both men surged forward, prepared to peel her off their commander.

  “Hands off,” Kenric barked the command, aiming it directly toward Arran and Guerin.

  “That’s right,” Eve hissed, pressing the edge of the blade deep enough beneath Kenric’s chin that a thin trickle of blood seeped over his Adam’s apple. “You don’t know me. How could you?” She shrugged. “You were so disgusted with the mere thought of my conception you didn’t stick around long enough.”

  “You only know what you’ve been told.” Kenric gave a slight shake of his head, but not enough to dig the knife in any deeper. “Oh my God. You look so much like her. Marguerite’s hair—the shape of your face. But you have my eyes and mouth.” Eve stood frozen as if his assessment fascinated her. “You’re really my daughter.” He shook his head once more. “I don’t need a DNA test. I can’t explain why. I just feel it. It’s true.” His throat worked. “Christ. I didn’t know about you. ”

  “You son of a bitch!” Eve rammed him against the wall once more, sending the seascape crashing to the floor. She cried out, then flailed at his body, ripping the leather and cotton of his clothing away. “Fight back, you bastard!”

  The commander stood frozen—his expression one of compassion, not anger. Damn. Arran could barely stand there and watch while the commander allowed her to vent her contempt and frustration on his body. Over and over, she slashed at his torso until nothing remained but flesh that looked like a wild animal had gone apeshit on his ass. But to Arran’s surprise, none of the wounds Eve delivered were even close to life-threatening. Shit. Maybe a molecule of Kenric’s genes had survived after all, and she wasn’t completely affected—or infected—by Marguerite.

  As if the battery fueling her rage were running out of juice, Eve’s movements slowed. For the first time, Kenric lifted his arms and gently circled his fingers around her wrists, bringing them to his blood-splattered chest.

  “Eve,” he whispered.

  “Shut up.” She shook her head, her dark hair whipping back and forth like a black fan deflecting his words. “I don’t want to hear your explanations or your damned excuses.” Eve swung her head back and her arms free. “It’s nothing but bull—”

  She stood there, deflated, as if something had sucked the air from her lungs. Arran followed the direction of her stare. Her focus had zeroed in on the Enclave symbol tattooed on Kenric’s arm.

  “Eve…please,” Guerin called out, but Eve didn’t budge. “Let me talk to you. Let me explain.” Pain creased the warrior’s face, flattening his mouth into a grim line. Guerin didn’t look like a man in agony from a stay in hell. He resembled one whose visit was about to begin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oh my God… It’s exactly the same. Eve couldn’t pull her gaze away from the scarlet-stained black ink. Whatever she was about to say had lodged in the back of her throat. The image before her eyes had shut down her ability to speak. Her heart rate sputtered, then kicked back into gear as if it had hit a speed bump. A wave of nausea swelled in her gut. She swallowed back the bitter taste of bile.

  She’d been so stupid.

  From the moment she’d watched Guerin swagger across her club’s floor, she’d been an idiot. The matching ink could mean only one thing: not only did Guerin know her father, but he was one of his damn Enclave.

  Too much for one night.

  Betrayed at every turn. She sucked in a deep breath, pushing past the knot of pain in her chest threatening to take her down. Oh, hell no. Her so-called father may have defeated her mother, but he wouldn’t see her crumble. She wouldn’t be erased from his world that easily. Eve reversed her step, putting the other two vampires plus Kenric in her sight. She’d been so blinded by the surprise meet-and-greet with dear old dad, Eve couldn’t believe she’d turned her back on the other male.

  “You lying bastard.” The insult clawed its way out of her throat, the rage-filled words directed toward the male she’d allowed inside her heart, not the one who shared her DNA. She was beyond infuriated.

  “Eve, I…” Guerin took a step toward her.

  “Stop!” Clutching the hilt of her dagger, she reared her arm back. “Don’t you come near me, or I swear it’ll be the last move you make.”

  “Please.” Guerin lifted his palms as if in surrender. “Give me a chance to—”

  Eve laughed. “To what? Explain?” She shook her head. “Oh, yeah. I’m hanging around for that story, so you can tell me this wasn’t all a setup to take out the last ugly reminder for your boss.” An odd mix of what looked like hurt and regret flashed in Guerin’s eyes. But what would she know about those emotions? She’d made sure to never get close enough to anyone to recognize them. “Did you draw the lucky straw, Guerin, and get to be the one to bait the trap? Must be pretty damn proud of yourself. You even got to get your rocks off more than once before your team arrived to try to finish me off.”

  Guerin’s gaze darted to Kenric, then back to Eve.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Eve gave him her best “oops” expression, including the hand to mouth, then added, “Did you not want Dad to know his prize warrior had slept with his daughter—the target?”

  She glimpsed the man in question. The large vampire with irises that mirrored her own looked torn between which pe
rson in the room to pounce on: her or Guerin. But who the hell knew what was going on inside his head? And she didn’t have time to waste figuring him out. As if she cared anyway. Eve was outnumbered, and not by weak human minions sent by Seth. These were seasoned vampires and judging by the power rolling off the one who was her mother’s sperm donor, he was a master. She might be able to take out two of them with a mental blow, but not Kenric. She had to get out of here.

  Eve bolted for the door, digging deep for every bit of vampire speed she could muster. Cool fresh air blasted through the thin layer of her clothes. Yes. The element of surprise had gotten her through without a snag. At the end of the drive, she slowed long enough to phase. Away.

  She coalesced and landed with a thump on the roof of a two-story home across the street and three houses down. The hard, cold surface of the roof tiles slamming against her bare feet had her gasping for breath. Eve crouched and gripped the molded clay for balance.

  “Eve…” It was Guerin’s voice inside her head.

  He wasn’t yelling. His words were soft and gentle, brushing her mind. She turned toward the apartment from where she’d fled. He stood in the drive, facing her general direction. The hour stretched well past midnight, but her excellent night vision painted him picture perfect.

  They’d fed on so much of each other’s blood over the last two days, sharing a telepathic conversation or picking up her trail would be a simple feat for vampires their age. Yet instead of pursuing, he stood there, staring into the night. A dull ache blossomed behind her sternum. Oh my God. Her head lolled between her shoulder blades, and she stared up at the stars. You have so lost your mind, Devonshire. You cannot be feeling disappointed that he’s not coming after you.

  “I know you can hear me,” he went on to say. “You’re still close. I can feel you. Don’t leave like this. I told Kenric and Arran to stay inside. Let me talk to you alone. I promise I’m not going to chase you, because I don’t want to push you farther away. No one wants to hurt you.” He rubbed both palms over his face, then dropped them with a sigh. “I know…poor choice of words. Because I already did hurt you. Fuck! Eve… I don’t know how to fix this. I screwed up.”

  Eve turned away and her vision blurred behind the pool of tears. She blinked, and the dam broke, releasing the waterworks. “Shit,” she mumbled, and quickly brushed them away with the back of her hand.

  “I just know—I just know it can’t end like this.” A heavy sigh left his lungs. She could hear it. Could feel his desperation. “Come back, Eve.” The deep timbre of his voice slid over her skin, caressing her, beckoning her.

  She shook her head.

  No, no, no.

  Stop it! Eve bit her tongue to keep from crying out the words. He’d lied. Played her for a fool. And she didn’t need a round two to learn her lesson. She’d have to be the stupidest female on the planet to get sucked back in. Kenric hated her as much as he had her mother. And where did that get Marguerite? Dead.

  Their matching tattoos said it all. Guerin was one of them. His loyalty was to the Enclave. His pretty words had been just that, words. Like the rest of them, he’d had an agenda, and it had almost gotten her killed.

  “Come back to—” A litany of guttural sounds followed. Eve whipped back around.

  Oh shit! Her heart raced.

  She phased in closer, nails scratching into the baked surface of the next house. Two vamps had appeared on either side of Guerin.

  Seth’s DEAD minions.

  They must have followed Kenric and the other male here.

  A silver chain, based on the pained expression on Guerin’s face, formed a thick noose around his neck. He clawed in strangled silence at the constrictor with both hands. Fangs bared and teeth clenched.

  “Her scent clings to you like a fucking second skin,” one of the minions growled into Guerin’s ear, his voice low, but the snarl on his lips as he mouthed the words made them easy to read. “If I can’t drag Eve’s ass back to Seth, you’ll have to be the next best thing.” He tossed a grin at his partner, then back to Guerin. “Bet she’ll come for lover boy here.” The filthy bloodsucker yanked hard on the chain in emphasis, bowing Guerin’s neck into an angle that would have snapped a lesser male’s spine.

  Bastards! Eve surged to her feet, closed her eyes, and reached inside for her power to phase once more. Then stopped. What was she doing? She lifted her eyelids and watched the scene unfold below. One of the vampires pulled something from his pocket with a gloved hand, jerked the end covering off with his teeth, and then jabbed it into the exposed part of Guerin’s neck.

  They were drugging him.

  Within seconds, Guerin’s knees buckled. Each vampire held his slumping body up by an arm. Judging from the strained look on their faces, the dead weight of the powerful male was almost more than the two bloodsuckers could handle.

  Her gut twisted at the sight. She should help him. Shouldn’t she? Her fingers curled into a fist. But didn’t he deserve exactly what was happening to him? He’d sold her out. Led her father and his crew right to her doorstep. And they were still inside. If she stuck around, there was a chance the DEADs collecting Guerin would take her, too, or her father and his partner would have her head.

  The threesome phased, then reappeared down the street beside a van parked beneath a busted streetlight. Like a large bag of garbage ready for the local dump, they tossed him into the vehicle. After folding his legs into the cabin, they pulled the sliding door closed with a snap, scrambled toward the front and piled inside.

  Payback is hell.

  Eve clutched the fabric covering her chest. So why did it feel as though she was the one who’d just lost a piece of heaven?

  “Where is he?” Kenric’s deep voice yanked Eve back from her little pity party. She dropped back down into a crouch. The Enclave’s master stood in the drive of her apartment along with the one called Arran, blades in hand. “Guerin,” he called out, but keeping his voice reserved. The blond beside him lifted his head and appeared to take a big whiff of the air.

  “We may be in Germany,” he drawled. “But damn, the DEADs smell exactly the same.”

  “True,” Kenric chimed in. “It doesn’t matter which side of the Atlantic they’re on. The stink is unmistakable.”

  The scent of Seth’s minions must have drawn them outside, expecting to join Guerin in a battle. Eve watched as both males lifted their daggers a little higher. The silver-plated blades glinted in the full moonlight, triggering the memory of the story her mother had told her before she’d left for America about her father’s Enclave. How Kenric had banded a group of warriors in South Carolina to keep the Death Euphoria Addicts or DEADs—vampires who became addicted to the head rush they achieved by feeding until they drained every last drop from their victims—in check.

  How very noble of his commitment to protect the humans. The knot in her stomach twisted a little tighter. Hypocrite. Playing hero to everyone else, yet he’d walked out on his only child.

  Tires screeched, signaling the minions’ exit with Guerin. The males whirled in the direction of the vehicle.

  “Son of a…” Kenric muttered. In unison, they bolted toward the van. “They must have Guerin.”

  “What the hell is going on?” The van had a head start on them and was already making a left on the next street. The two males slowed. “Why take him and not kill him?”

  “Good question.” Kenric pointed to another vehicle, and they crossed the street in a blur. The lights flashed on a Jaguar parked along the curb. “One that I’m about to beat the answer to out of them,” he added and folded himself into the driver’s side of the automobile.

  The car made a dizzying U-turn and hauled ass in the same direction the van had taken. Eve leaped from the roof and landed with a soft whoosh on the grass below. Time to make haste into her apartment while they went after Guerin, grab what she needed, and disappear—from everyone.

  Inside, Eve snatched up her wallet, keys, cell, and what few clothes she’d kept stash
ed there for emergencies. She’d have to find yet another city and start over with a new identity. God, she was so sick of living like a hunted animal. She couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have a place to call home, a family, trust. A fantasy—a longing—she’d keep hidden deep within her heart. Something she’d never allowed herself to dream or dwell on too much, because the two would never be her reality. Yet for a split second when she and Guerin had played lovers, Eve had almost allowed herself to believe he’d cared. She’d dropped her walls and had even trusted him enough to let him see her cry. And he’d held her, promised to continue doing so as long as she needed him. For the first time in maybe never, someone had made her feel cherished, loved. Marguerite may not have been the hugs-and-kisses type of mother, but Eve had never doubted she’d cared for her and had done her best to keep her safe. But what Guerin had made her feel was different. The kind of deep connection a man possessed for a woman. The till-death-do-you-part kind. A laugh bubbled up and out, but she clasped a hand to her mouth, stifling the noise. Damn, she sounded crazy. Trust and love. She sniffed and ran her fingers through her hair. Those two words did not apply to her. Not in her world.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The pounding inside Guerin’s head threatened to split his temples and competed for his attention with the burn at his wrists and ankles. He dragged his eyelids apart and blinked, trying to focus in the direction of the pain in his extremities. Shit, how long had he been out? A single bright light beamed from above and glinted off the silver manacles holding his arms up and out at his sides. Since he’d arrived in Germany, he’d been knocked out and either tied up or caged three times.

  Damn, this was starting to get on his nerves.

  Guerin’s skull bumped off the stone wall behind him. If he didn’t already know he was a badass, this getting kidnapped shit would be giving him a complex.

  A flurry of movement in his peripheral vision had him swinging his head in its direction. The intensity of the hovering spotlight made it difficult to see details in the darker room, especially for his kind. A vampire’s sight was designed for moonlight, not the sun. But of course, whoever had brought him here understood that fact and had used it to his advantage. Constant harsh light would not only make for a miserable prisoner, it would partially blind him as well. But his heightened sense of smell wasn’t impaired, and it told him that at least three DEADs had been, or were, in the room.