Eternal Hearts (A Darkness Within)

by Jennifer Turner

  She kept her eyes pinned to the floor. “He’s really nice.”

  He chuckled. “He has his moments.”

  “It’s good that you have friends like him though. He probably can’t even tell…I mean, it’s hard because you’re so…” She rubbed a hand down her face and stepped inside the elevator when the doors slid open. “I don’t know what the hell I mean. Just ignore me.”

  Drake moved to stand across from her then smacked the button for the nineteenth floor. She’d accused him earlier of not being right, but it didn’t take a brain surgeon to see something was clearly wrong with her.

  He leaned back against the lush, carpeted wall. “Are you all right?”

  She followed suit but added a nod. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m on a rollercoaster…but nobody’s at the controls. I guess I just need a minute.”

  Drake quietly watched Toni as the agonizingly slow elevator ride began, and he did so with a little more interest than he probably should have. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed as she took deep rhythmic breaths. She appeared so innocent standing there, and so damn human that if he didn’t know better he’d have sworn she was.

  Very rarely had he seen vampires, especially females, wear their emotions so openly. Granted, Warriors were known for their ability to flip between moods like a coin dropped from the roof of the Sears Tower, but from what he’d witnessed so far she hid absolutely nothing. And manipulation, of any kind, didn’t even enter into the picture.

  He smiled when, with her eyes still closed, she reached up and scratched the crease of her nose. Her movements were so unscripted, so random. Even her tears back on the street had been real, not contrived or feigned like most vampires.

  Recalling his earlier conversation with Jake, Drake sharpened his senses and took a long hard look at the woman standing across the elevator. Given the faint tang of power that mingled with her spicy blood, he’d guess she hadn’t fed in a week, maybe longer. She was also more fragile than he’d gleaned from the picture in her bio, and while she certainly wasn’t the best looking woman he’d ever seen – there was something about her. Something that set her apart, even from other female vampires he’d met whose beauty defied human standards.

  But what that something was…he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  Maybe it’s all an act. She’s no different than anyone else. No different than any other vampire. Drake forced the colder part of himself, the part he’d allowed to rule him for so long, aside. Maybe her human attributes did lend her a rare, vulnerable quality, but that only served as proof that she wasn’t like every other vampire stalking the night.

  His killer instinct fought its way back to the surface. She’s a Warrior. She’s violence given a physical form. She’ll cut you to ribbons. Turn your back on her and see what happens.

  Drake shook the voice from his mind. He knew violence and it wasn’t the woman standing a few feet from him…

  He’d been part of The Organization for years, and after fulfilling contract after contract, he’d seen violence and unspeakable acts of evil in their purest forms. Sometimes the evidence was still on his hands when the day was over. But violent people had a way about them. Their actions were precise and purposeful. The ever distant look in their eyes said they’d experienced pain in ways most people never dreamed of.

  And he truly believed that violence wasn’t born…it was made.

  Violent people looked for any excuse to inflict the pain they felt on others. It was something he knew and understood, because it was the very reason he’d joined the society of assassins in the first place. The Organization had given him an outlet for his own pain at a time when he’d needed it more than anything. His job gave him a direction to focus all the rage and hatred burning inside him, so he could at least attempt to resemble a functional being.

  Drake reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Although most considered his profession cruel and evil, without it, the very definition of cruel and evil would’ve been severely inadequate to describe the atrocities he was capable of committing.

  As he watched Toni open her eyes and fumble with the room key, it became glaringly obvious that no matter what crime she’d perpetrated in downtown Chicago three years ago, she was not violence given a physical form. But she had killed six humans, which begged only one question…

  Why?

  When the elevator hovered to a stop and the doors opened, he motioned for her to take the lead then followed her into the hallway. She’d no more than taken a full step before she stopped.

  He stared down at the top of her head. “What’s wrong now?”

  “There are only four doors on the whole floor.”

  He reached over her shoulder and pointed at the gold numbers stamped into the white plastic card. “And ours is 108, which is the one at the end of the hall, left side.”

  “The suites must be huge,” she whispered.

  “They are. They’re like big one room apartments.”

  “Wow.” She started walking again, this time with a little more bounce to her steps. “Are they as fancy as the lobby? Ooh, do they have those tubs that are as big as swimming pools? The ones that have those little jet thingies that do the water massages?”

  He rolled his eyes but smiled. At least she was on the incline of her unmanned rollercoaster bonanza. “Why don’t you just open the door and find out for yourself?”

  She mimicked his comment as she turned towards the door. “Okay, Mr. Cranky Pants, I will.” She slid the key through the reader then frowned back at him when nothing happened instantly. “I think it’s broken.”

  Drake silently counted to three then snapped his fingers and pointed at the reader just as the green light blinked and the door popped open. “Have a little patience. It is a virtue, you know. Robert says so.”

  “Well, if Robert says so, it must be true.” Her nose wrinkled as she pushed open the door and stepped inside, triggering the automatic lights. “Oh, holy crap.” She inched in a little more, as though at any moment something might jump out and grab her. “It’s even nicer than the lobby.”

  “It’s a good room.” He nudged her forward with his thigh. “Of course, it’d be even better if I could actually get inside.”

  She whirled around to face him. “Good? Are you kidding me? Are you blind?”

  Drake shrugged as he stepped around her and headed straight for the full kitchen. He opened the stainless steel, double door refrigerator and smiled wide at the dark bottles tightly packed together on the top shelf.

  “It was good,” he said as pulled out a beer and tipped it in her direction. “Now it’s better.”

  She gave a cute rendition of the gag face. “You actually drink beer?”

  He nodded as he twisted off the cap. “Every chance I get.” He swallowed half the contents before he set the bottle on the counter. “I take it you can’t eat or drink yet?”

  “Nope. I tried once but it didn’t go very well.” She turned a slow circle then looked over at him again. “You really aren’t even phased by this place, are you?”

  He cast a glance over the room. Decorated in mostly dark burgundies and even darker greens, the colors were a fitting contrast against the cream colored walls, one of which was covered with floor to ceiling burgundy drapes, drawn and tied shut to guard the matching windows. An oversized bed occupied the far right corner, nearly hidden under a mountain of satin pillows. A small living room, complete with TV, DVD, stereo, a large couch, a coffee table, and two leather recliners commanded the far left corner, while the full kitchen took up the majority of the right corner closest to the door. The left corner directly across from the kitchen boasted a desk setup with a computer and everything someone would need to conduct business. And directly behind that was the bathroom, which no doubt had the tub she’d been hoping for.

  He leaned forward and pushed the door closed. “No, not really.”

  “Did you grow up rich?”

  He bit back the urge to laugh. “Not rich�
�just fast.”

  “Oh.” She twisted her fingers together. “I know how that feels.”

  Drake slid his coat off then hung it on the rack by the door. “Get comfortable, Kid.” He reached into the kitchen and grabbed his beer. “This is your new home, at least for tonight anyway.”

  She nodded as she dropped her bag next to the door then turned and stared out over the room again. For the first time since they’d met, her sun kissed face was nearly devoid of emotion. He had no idea whether the coaster was heading uphill, down, or if the damn thing had fallen off the tracks all together.

  Pity if it had – Warriors lost to the beast tended to be a handful.

  Drake pulled the beer bottle away from his mouth when, for no discernable reason, Toni broke out into a full sprint, jumped, and then squealed like a little girl as she landed on the bed. Pillows catapulted everywhere, one even landing near his feet.

  He blinked hard. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I couldn’t help it.” She flipped over onto her back and wiggled her body, sinking deeper into the mattress. “It called to me.”

  “What called to you?”

  She lifted her head and shot him the most serious look he’d ever seen her give. “The spirit of the bed.” She devolved into giggles. “It was all like, jump on me, you know you want to. And I was all like, no, no, I can’t. But then it cheated…so here I am.”

  Drake smiled in spite of himself. That one simple action was all it took. Toni Tutoro didn’t now, nor would she ever, fit into the category of being just like every other vampire. That particular category didn’t allow for a blatantly innocent, purely childish action like jumping on the bed.

  Hell, it didn’t allow for anything pure or innocent to begin with.

  And the way she laughed again while she swished her arms over the comforter as if she was swimming in the green velvet, spoke volumes. Aside from obviously being very comfortable, she also appeared relaxed, which meant she felt safe.

  And that meant he was doing his job – just like he always did.

  He nodded at the thought. “Well, at least you’re having fun, which is a hell of a lot better than the alternative.”

  She sat up and eyed him rather intently. “Maybe you should put your bottle down and try it.” She flashed a taunting smile as she rubbed a hand over the empty space in front of her. “It’s very therapeutic.”

  “Oh, no.” He took a sip of beer then shook his head. “I’d probably break the damn thing. Then Robert would really be all over my ass for busting his antique whatever bed.”

  She went quiet for a moment as her dark eyes moved over him, lingering on his face before she traced down one arm, then the other. When she’d finished her poorly disguised appraisal, she made an even slower journey back to meet his eyes. “I like your tattoos.”

  He looked down at the litany of tribal designs covering his scarred forearms, representing both sides of his cursed heritage. “Thanks. Some are starting to fade though. I need to get them touched up soon.”

  “Do they still hurt?”

  “Nah. They heal pretty fast. Believe it or not, I have more trouble getting the ink to stick than anything.”

  Her gaze slipped from his eyes back to his arms. “I meant the scars.”

  He set the empty bottle back on the counter then walked over to the end of the bed. “This one does, sometimes,” he admitted as he tapped the thick, jagged line that ran about six inches down the top of his right forearm. “A Mystic caught me with an enchanted blade she had hidden in her boot.” He pointed out the faded circular scar a little lower. “But this one’s left over from a bullet wound. I barely notice it unless I’m looking.”

  She arched a brow. “I know what gunshot scars look like.”

  “Yeah?” He couldn’t help but to bait her. “Seen a few on some of your Warrior boyfriends, have ya?”

  Her caramel eyes sparked with challenge. “You think you’re a Badass? You wanna play Scar Wars with me?” She kicked her shoes off the side of the bed before she stood up on it. “I’ll play with you.” She walked across the mattress to stand in front of him then tipped her head back. “See this?” she asked as she ran her index finger over the barely there line that spanned her neck. “That’s what happens when you don’t have permission to be in Dallas, and all I was doing was pumping gas.”

  He considered the line again, noting how it alternated slightly between thinner and thicker segments. “You got razor wired at the gas station? Did you run the Lord over on your way there or something?”

  “No. I’d already talked to the Lord and he said I couldn’t stay. So I stopped to get gas on my way out. I wasn’t exactly ready when the Enforcement Team jumped me.”

  Drake looked down at the bed and tried to remember the last contract he’d fulfilled in Texas. “I’m fairly certain the Lord of Dallas is a Tech. Do you have GPS in your car?”

  She nodded. “I have a small handheld one I keep in the glove box.”

  “That’s how they got you then. He used it to track you.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “But all I was doing was filling up my car.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Have you pissed off a Tech anywhere else?”

  Her face sobered remarkably. “Um…yeah.”

  “They’re all networked. So if I were you, I’d stay out of cities where a Tech’s in charge, unless you know for sure that you’re better than their Enforcement Team.” He grinned at her. “So is that it? Is that all ya got?”

  She pulled the neck of her black t-shirt down a bit and to the left. An inch or so below her clavicle was a round scar surrounded by a larger ring of raised and discolored skin. “I got this one about a year ago in Miami. I found the Head of Enforcement, but as soon as I said my name she told me to get out. I guess I didn’t move fast enough.” She stretched the neck over to the right, revealing a matching scar just a little higher and closer to her shoulder. “She gave me this one, too.”

  Drake sucked in a breath between his teeth. He knew the mottled burn patterns around her gunshot wounds all too well. After all, only one type of bullets could do lasting damage to a vampire, and his own guns were usually filled with them. “Phosphorus rounds, I’ve been there.” He lifted his t-shirt to show her the tight group of three similar scars on his right side, less than an inch below his ribcage. “I got these in London a few years ago.” He pulled back his left sleeve and rubbed the inside of his biceps. “Same with these two. I’ve got two more on my thigh, one on my calf, and one on the top of my foot. They hurt like a bitch while they’re healing, don’t they?”

  “Are you kidding? Mine still hurt.” She reached out and brushed a cold finger over the mess of crisscrossed scars on his forearm. “But yours look like they heal a lot better than mine do.” Her eyes slowly trailed up his arm to his face. “I’m guessing you don’t have much trouble feeding though.” He stiffened as she pressed a chilly palm against his cheek. “Nice face, good body, strong heartbeat. How do you stay so warm anyway?”

  Drake swallowed hard. Something told him she wouldn’t care for the explanation of how he maintained his body heat, so instead he offered a fitting option for her. “All you have to do is will your blood to warm, which you could actually do right now instead of using me as your personal heating pad.”

  Her nose wrinkled right before she rested her free hand against his other cheek so she held his face in her hands, sending a wave of chills across his shoulders. “I can’t do that. And with how close you are to me right now, I think you know why.”

  He’d known since the elevator, but he wondered if she’d actually tell the truth. “Why not?”

  “Because using you as a personal heating pad is cheaper.” When he rolled his eyes, she flashed the most disarming smile he’d ever seen. “Because I can’t spare the blood, that’s why. I only eat when I have to. The less I feed, the smaller the chance I’ll make a mistake and earn myself another scar, especially since I don’t have any of those nifty Jedi mind tricks everyone e
lse seems to have.”

  Drake had to laugh at the same reference he’d heard Odin use countless times before. “No mental manipulation for you, huh?”

  “Nope. I don’t think I’d be very good at it anyway.” She shook her head then slid her hands down to rest on either side of his neck. “Besides, playing with someone’s memories is just wrong, and from what I’ve heard, way too easy to mess up. The last thing I need to do is break the Veil.” She withdrew her hands as shadows flickered behind her eyes. “Then I’d be hunted… instead of just hated.” Her shoulders slumped a little more with each breath that followed, until the worn, apologetic qualities he’d first seen on the sidewalk had returned in full force.

  And just like that – she was gone.

  The playful woman from only moments before had disappeared, slipped away into some personal Hell where the torturer probably wore her face. A place where every mistake she’d ever made became another lash, and every regret she’d ever felt wove another line into a tangled web of scars that no one else could see.

  And he knew where she’d gone, because he’d been there…and it wasn’t a punishment he’d wish on even his worst enemies.

  Before instinct could stop him, Drake reached out and brushed his thumb across her icy cheek. He waited for her to move back, expected her to push him away, but when she didn’t, when she shivered at his touch and then leaned into his hand…he knew he was in trouble.

  Don’t do it. He knew he shouldn’t, knew what he was about to offer broke every rule attached to a protection contract, but if he could help her regain even a small piece of the life immortality had stolen, for some strange reason that he didn’t understand – he wanted to.

  He lowered his hand to rest on her shoulder. “There’s another way to bring back your body heat for a little while without using your blood, but you have to trust me…and I completely understand if you don’t.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Will it hurt?”

  “No, it shouldn’t hurt. But it’ll probably feel really weird at first, and it will wake up your beast. Not in anger, but you’ll definitely know the little bastard’s there.”