by Dee Carney
Lucy’s heart seized at the fierceness of his words. The utter truth behind his statements. The fatigue threatening to drown her hours ago lifted as absolute determination to see her task through to the end became foremost once again. “Fine,” she mumbled. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“You don’t like the idea of doing the work, you’re going to hate it by the time you’re done.”
“Tough day ahead of me?”
“Brutal,” he confirmed.
“Do I get to kick your ass?”
“I’m counting on it, though I doubt it. You still kind of suck.”
She smiled, perhaps for the first time in what felt like years. She appreciated that he wasn’t trying to turn her mood around but remained his typical taciturn self. If she found humor in his grumpiness, so much the better. “Did you forget that I managed to tag you on the first try?”
“Beginner’s luck.” He stretched as he said it and for some unknown reason, Lucy turned to watch him. Her response was immediate and visceral.
Victor’s body made something in her belly drop low, a simmering heat setting up shop in its place. Watching the eroticism of his muscles, the masculine edge of his body hair, made her so very aware of the beating of her own heart. The slowly elevating pace of her pulse.
“You could have lied to me, you know,” she said, still enjoying the view. “I’d had no idea that I’d tagged you, and you told me anyway.”
“A deal’s a deal. I might be just a merc, but I don’t go back on my deals, ever.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He never ceased to amaze her. He might consider himself just a merc, but she knew this man was so much more.
She feasted her eyes on him, devouring such an exquisite physique. The instinct to curl around him, sliding her foot over his skin, throbbed inside her. In this little cabin where they stayed tucked away out of sight of everyone and avoiding responsibilities, she could easily forget she wasn’t sick.
But what about him? What did he forego to assist her pursuit? “Tell me something,” she said softly, still wanting to keep the mood. “If you weren’t here with me now, what would you be doing?”
“Another job, probably. Just getting some funding to get by.”
It dawned on her how little she knew about him. “Is that enough? Just getting by?”
“Ain’t like you. Don’t need to be in the lap of luxury. I’ve got simple tastes and simple needs. Just need enough money to pay the mortgage—”
“You own?” She didn’t know why that surprised her.
“A three-two. Nothing fancy. It gives me a place to sleep undisturbed.”
“Next you’ll tell me it’s got a white picket fence and a flowering magnolia tree in the front yard.”
“Crabapple.”
She smiled again, a new and lovely habit she could grow used to. “You are a lesson in contrasts and so unlike every vampire I’ve ever met.”
“Those vampires,” he said with dripping disdain, “live in nothing but excesses. They don’t know what it’s like to hunt for the basics. Food, shelter, love.”
Lucy stilled, the simmering hatred a shock to her senses. “But I thought all vampires were wealthy. You live such long lives. As a community, you band together. You have each other.”
“If you aren’t an outcast,” he growled. “If you aren’t rich or powerful or beautiful, then you’re an outcast. Left to struggle through life, feeding off untouchables or stray animals. No community, and the ones who used to know you can’t even look at your face anymore. A pariah.”
Ice dripped from every word, and for the first time since meeting Victor, she almost pulled away from him. She knew he could be a violent man, the nature of his job demanded it, but his emotional distance meant it was business and not personal. Now, though...now she saw personal.
She twisted in his hold, her hand smoothing over his arm to settle the roiling emotion. Victor turned incredibly shadowed eyes toward her though and removed himself from her touch. Somehow she’d stumbled on a deeply sore spot with him and she had no idea the cause of it—or how to fix it.
“I—I should get ready,” she stammered. She’d never considered a caste system among the beautiful creatures of the night, but she should have known better.
“Yeah,” he said darkly.
Lucy watched him leave their warm bed, her heart shredded by the hurt radiating from him. When she’d first met Victor, she’d found her gaze straying toward his disfigurement. Her brow furrowed as now she realized she didn’t notice it anymore. Before their first kiss, she’d wondered how it would feel, if he had to compensate. If anything, the heat behind their kisses made her forget the fault and focus on more important matters. The paralysis didn’t define him, but was a mundane part of his anatomy. Not important at all.
She slid out of bed with a heavy heart. Wanting to stay there and explore more about Victor and the man he’d become. But he had a point. Time was not her friend.
By the time she joined him outside, he was pacing. A caged tiger.
“We’ll skip getting physical for now. Give you a chance to heal from yesterday,” Victor announced. “So tonight’s lesson will be all about fighting dirty.”
She perked, relieved to hear the normality in his tone rather than the fury she’d sensed previously. “You mean like showing my tits?”
He grinned. “If that’ll give you five more seconds alive, then yeah. Show your tits, your legs, get buck naked if you have to. You’re good, stronger than I gave you credit for, but it won’t be enough.”
She’d been about to drop into fighting stance, but his comment startled her. “You think I’m good?”
“Think that’s what I said.”
“But—but what about the other stuff? You said I was weak and kinda sucked.”
“And you are.” He grinned. “And maybe a little white lie.”
“You also said...” She trailed off, unable to recall anything specific. “You implied I didn’t have a chance.”
“You don’t.”
“Oh.”
“Which is exactly why if you get the chance to throw dirt, you throw it. His shoelace untied? Step on it. He’s looking left, you fucking punch him on the right side.”
She’d take the half-assed compliment. “Alright, show me what I need to know.”
They worked for hours, at a less rigorous pace for certain, but grueling nonetheless. Sparring until she couldn’t lift her arms, jabs to the eyes, punches to the throat. Lucy kicked at his groin with feet and knees, taking advantage of the male anatomy. She learned to target his kidneys, pretend-slamming fists into the sensitive areas.
He made her think through every action, not so much as taking a step without being able to justify it. Victor made everything an opportunity. Everything.
A stake through the heart was the only way to kill a vampire, but she could sure as shit maim one until that critical moment.
“Ears are vulnerable. Consider them your personal handles to torture.” Victor not only expected her to jab things in them, an idea that made her wince, but attempt to rip them off altogether. “You’re turning green on me, Lucy. You in it to win it?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, fighting down rising bile.
“Then show me.”
Lucy went after his ears. His eyes. In a moment of desperation, she punched out, fingers curling into his hair. Victor narrowed his eyes after she grabbed hold, then purposely threw his head back. She inwardly cringed as her hand was left aloft, a sizable tuft of hair clenched inside.
“Pretty much useless,” he grumbled before mock-chopping her across the throat in retaliation. “Stings for a bit, but it only buys you a second or two. Dirty means vulnerable areas. Hair isn’t vulnerable. Got it?”
“But I could use his hair to pull his face down, jab up with two fingers into his eyes, right?”
His lips curved into a semi-smile. “Ooh, baby. Now you’re just trying to turn me on.”
Lucy laughed.
; * * *
He had to give her credit. No matter how much torture he sent her way, Lucy kept fighting. She didn’t complain, listening attentively to the advice and instruction he gave. Even during the down times, when he expected her to collapse into a heap, she bit her lower lip and kept pushing forward.
Victor tried to think back to the early days and what he knew about blood slaves. In the past, he’d been so engrossed with indulging himself in them, in what they offered, it would have never crossed his mind to discover who they were. If they had dreams or aspirations. Family.
Hearing about Lucy’s sister at once made him ashamed. They’d been put into service at a young age, which was regrettable. Treated well, anything else would have been uncivilized. But they’d been exposed to spice. Unheard of.
“Come here and put your back to me,” he said after she started breathing heavily. “Show me how you’d break out of my hold.”
He’d thought she faced an impossible task before he’d found out about this illness. Indecision ate at him now that he knew more.
While there was breath still in Lucy’s body, she would feel the driving need to put Sage to ground herself. Still...
“You never did ask me about my fees.”
Her breathing became less labored, but he could see a flush to her cheeks as she struggled to remove his grip to her shoulder. His forearm pressed against her carotid, the chokehold meant to bring her down in a matter of minutes if she didn’t break free. “Didn’t give me a chance.”
Victor gave her an estimate for killing Sage. When she went still, slack in his arms, he couldn’t be certain she hadn’t passed out. Whether from the chokehold or from shock, or maybe a combination of both, he wouldn’t wager on. “Is that in dollars?” she squeaked.
“U.S. You got it.” Hell, he’d thrown in a friends-and-family discount.
“Obviously, I went into the wrong business. Thought you said you’re not rich?”
“I ain’t rich. Step here and get that leg behind mine,” he instructed. After she’d positioned herself into a better position to get free, he brought them back to his original intent for bringing up a potential contract. “What I am is changing my mind. You come up with the money, you can hire me for the job. Might not get it done in the timeframe you’re looking for, but I’ll get it done.”
If he’d learned one thing about Lucy, she had pride by the barrelful. There was no way she’d accept his help for free. While she still had the option to choose, he’d offer her a contract the way she’d wanted in the first place. This way, she wouldn’t refuse him.
Lucy kneed him behind his thigh, forcing his knee to give and alter his hold. At the same time, she yanked her head from between his crooked arm. As he stumbled, she punched out, almost making contact with his throat.
They worked in unison, Victor expecting every move she made, but her execution sent a jolt of pride into him. From the way Lucy grinned up at him, she was pretty pleased with herself too. Her brow furrowed though as his words apparently sank in. “You want the job now?”
“Yeah, I’ll take it.”
“What’s changed?” A new edge crept into her voice.
“I think I can make it work. I have other obligations at the moment, but afterward, I think I could take your job.”
She shook her head, lips tight. “Don’t lie to me. That’s not what’s changed. What’s changed is you don’t think I can do it.”
“I never thought you could.” He’d never disillusioned her about that.
It must have been the wrong thing to say, because color crept into Lucy’s face. “Nice,” she grumbled before storming away. She shot him a perfect view of her middle finger, a storm cloud forming in her wake.
He stared after her, torn. What just happened? Was she under some sort of delusion that she, a human with a deadly illness, could defeat a hundreds-year-old vampire? When had he ever encouraged that? Sure, he indulged this obsession with Sage and would teach her how to defend herself against him, but to believe anything more could happen was folly.
Wasn’t the fucking contract proof he wanted to help her? What else did she want?
He’d complimented her growing skill, but it wouldn’t be enough. She’d come a long way, but between her weak human body, an illness sapping her strength, lack of experience, along with a million other cons outweighing the pluses, she simply could not do it. He could ply her with instruction for the next twenty years, and maybe she’d come along well enough to fight a younger vampire. Sage kept himself surrounded by bodyguards and not only that, had risen to a position of power because he had to be ruthless in some sort of way. Cunning alone gave him a huge advantage over Lucy. She had to know and understand that already, right?
He visually followed her progress into the cabin before glancing up, locating the position of the moon. Funny how every night with her ate up the hours in the most pleasant of ways. The nights he wasn’t on a job had always moved at a glacial pace, but with Lucy, he wanted to beg the sky for more time. She kept him from remembering, from noticing the severe lack of vitality in his life.
Wasn’t that a bitch? If he wanted more of her time, more of her soothing presence, it probably meant finding out where he’d fucked up. Women...
By the time he got inside, Lucy was scooping corn kernels out of a can with a plastic fork. She hunched over the tin like she hadn’t seen food in days.
“Hey,” he grunted.
She issued some unintelligible noise back as she swallowed down the cold food. It struck him how ill-prepared he’d been in bringing her here. Selfishness and survival drove his urgency, when, as Lucy had told him from the beginning, she was used to being treated a certain way. Yet, instead of fine dining prepared by a personal chef like she was probably used to while employed, he’d forced her into canned goods and water if she wanted her basic survival needs met.
Good going, Victor.
Ignoring the tight rumble of his own belly, he said, “What about that supply run? You need fuel.”
“Doing fine.” She stabbed her fork into the kernels. A few went flying out of the can and landed on the floor. Her gaze dropped to where they lay scattered before shooting back to him, a dare to mention them in the harsh squint.
Ignoring every screaming instinct telling him to say fuck it, turn tail and head back to the werewolves, where he’d get a warmer reception, he asked, “You want to talk about it?”
She slammed the can down. “Talk about what? How you don’t think much of me or what I’m doing?”
“Whoa. That’s—”
“Or how you want to do the typical man thing and take over? You’re just as bad as the rest of them, treating me like a pretty trinket incapable of doing more than being eye candy. I think I’ve shown you in just a few days that I’m smart. I’m a fast learner. I’m stronger than I look, and I can take care of myself reasonably well. I’m adaptable.”
Lucy paused to take a breath, and he took advantage. “You’re right. You’re all of those things and more. But you’re also sick.”
As if the universe chose to punctuate his point, Lucy sucked in a breath, one that obviously pained her to take. A part of Victor cracked as he watched her try to stifle the need for air. Those hazel green eyes burned with annoyance lined with fear. Her own understanding of her limitations. Every breath must have been a not-so-subtle reminder that she neared death. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, not being able to ignore it for even a little while.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so tired, Victor,” she whispered. “This is harder than I ever thought it would be. And I’m even more scared that when the time comes, I’ll hesitate. I might look into Sage’s dark heart and see something I don’t want to there. I might hesitate, and he’ll kill me first. Everything I’ve sacrificed, everything I’ve promised Cindy, will be for nothing. But if there’s one thing you need to know about me, especially after all that I’ve been through, it’s that I am relentless about this task. It’s something I have to a
ttempt. If he kills me, that’s one thing, but at least I know I’ll go down having tried to avenge Cindy and all of the other slaves who weren’t given a choice.”
“Then why are you so upset that I want to do this for you? Why can’t I take the chance for you and let you watch from a safe distance?”
“Don’t you get it? Sage has to know I’m the reason he’s dying. Sage actually having to look into my eyes, the knowledge seeping into his brain, is something I want to see for myself. If I thought his death would be enough, I might consider sending you in, but I need more than that. I need him to understand.”
“But if you fail?” he asked softly.
Lucy stared into the bottom of the can. He supposed she hadn’t thought of that, whether vengeance would be as good for her if she were no longer around to witness it. “I don’t know.”
This was an impossible task. Although there were bright moments to her training, there was no way she would be ready to face Sage. Hell, when he took on the job—and she knew it was a matter of when—he’d need at least a few tries to get close. A lot of times, success depended on sheer luck.
She blew out a breath as if shaking loose her frustration. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“When we got here, I had the distinct impression that you were under your own agenda. Like something else was going on. Was I right?”
There had been moments since they’d arrived when he could forget about the werewolves. They weren’t too far from his thoughts, but he allowed himself the luxury of believing it was just him and Lucy. His plans for her had gone awry so far, but at least he knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Something about this place, the small cabin with its rudimentary furnishings and supplies, made him want to forget the outside world. Despite his resemblance to an earlier time when his life hadn’t been worth much more than the clothes on his back, Lucy’s presence helped make up the difference.
He wanted her so much his entire body ached. His hands all but trembled with the urge to touch and caress her skin. His imagination couldn’t supply him with images enough to sate his desire for this woman, but despite their agreement, it didn’t feel right yet. As much as he could still practically taste her on his lips, something vital was missing. Victor’s gut told him to wait a little longer. His gut had never failed him.
