Ravenheart (Crossbreed Series Book 2)

by Dannika Dark

  Maybe seeing Christian as someone who masked his pain was easier than acknowledging he was heartless and didn’t respect women.

  “I’ll take your silly bet if it makes you happy. One week of abstinence,” he promised. “And what are we betting for?”

  That was a good question.

  “I already know what I want,” he said. “If I win, then you’re not allowed to bring up my sexual endeavors—past, present, or future—ever again. Even if I’m engaging in oral sex on the dining room table, which is what I’d prefer dining on instead of Viktor’s goulash.”

  He’s right, I thought to myself. You’re getting a little too obsessed with his sex life.

  I flagged down a flight attendant walking by. “Excuse me, do you have any goulash?”

  She furrowed her brow and flicked her eyes between Christian and me. Every strand of her flaxen hair was pulled into a tight bun.

  Christian leaned over me. “Don’t mind her, lass. She’s a bit touched in the head after falling off her unicorn.”

  Without a word, she hurried away to assist others.

  I crossed one leg over my knee and lowered my voice. “You know, I never realized how much humans lack a sense of humor until I crossed over. They’re always so serious. You say one wrong word, and you get thrown off the plane.”

  “Imagine if this were a Breed airline,” he mused. “This place would be a fecking zoo.”

  I laughed at the idea. “Everyone would revolt against first class.”

  “Sensor pops for everyone.”

  “Flight attendants would be throwing passengers off the plane. Literally.”

  “Chitahs would be flipping their switches over a woman serving them.”

  “Wolves and bears, crapping in the aisle.”

  We laughed quietly and then listened to people chattering around us.

  I looked left and noticed Christian’s head was reclined and his eyes were closed behind his dark shades. I wondered what he’d look like without all the facial hair. Probably strikingly handsome, so it was a good thing he embraced his follicles. Despite being boorish, Christian had a crooked smile that had the power to make panties disintegrate. His features were striking, from his dark eyes to his prominent cheekbones. Maybe that was why he covered his face with whiskers and unkempt hair. Perhaps his roguish looks drew too much attention to a man who would rather vanish into a crowd.

  “It’s hard to look away, isn’t it?” he asked, eyes still closed.

  “Why do Vampires have such beautiful skin?”

  He peeked at me from the corner of his eye. “Our maker’s blood purifies our own, and I guess it goes back to its natural state. Whatever skin color you were born with—including moles and marks—are yours to keep. We still retain natural lines in the face from frowning and laughing, but all the sun damage goes away. Maybe we should talk about the weather before someone overhears this curious conversation.”

  I looked around to see if anyone was listening, but most people had their earphones on and were either watching TV or sleeping.

  Christian noisily wadded up a candy wrapper and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

  “It’s a good thing you can’t get cavities,” I said.

  He shifted the candy around in his mouth. “I like my sweets. Occasionally I might indulge in eating, but I prefer to avoid it. Comes with that infernal habit of going to the toilet. Candy doesn’t have that effect.”

  “I’ll make a note of that.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you want if you win the bet.”

  I smirked. “Planning on losing?”

  “It depends if you want to flatten me.”

  “I don’t even know what that means, but if it’s sexual, you’ll have to find another victim.”

  He slowly pulled the candy out of his mouth and held it in front of his lips. “If that sassy stewardess walks by one more time and bends over, I just might.”

  I threaded my hair away from my face. “How about you owe me a favor?”

  Christian abruptly opened his window shade. “Do you see any pigs flying up here?”

  “I’m serious. Not a big one; I promise I won’t ask for anything unreasonable. Just a favor you’ll owe me at some point. If you’ve got enough willpower, you shouldn’t have any problem agreeing to this. And let’s define the rules a little since you’ll find ways to bend them. No sexual acts—and that includes oral sex, nudity, touching, phone sex, and blood sharing.”

  He snorted with laughter. “Blood?”

  “I’ve heard it turns some of you on. I know all about stroking the arteries.”

  He closed the shade and removed his glasses. “And what on earth could you be scheming in that head of yours to come up with such a bet?”

  Something I’d been thinking about for a while. Christian wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t mention it, but the guilt of having left my father without a good-bye had been weighing heavily on my mind. I didn’t have the ability to charm people or scrub their memories, but Christian did. After the close call with Darius threatening to harm my father, I’d decided to cut ties once and for all. But I knew I’d never be able to live with myself until I saw him one last time. I wasn’t sure when—or if—I’d be ready for that to happen, but if Christian could safely scrub his memory of our meeting, it would give me a chance to say what I needed to say. To tell him I loved him, even if he wouldn’t remember it. God, my heart needed that so badly. He thought I was dead, so I couldn’t anticipate what would happen, especially from a guy like Crush. But having Christian make me that promise would give me the choice to make peace with the decisions I’d made. Or not. But at least I’d have closure.

  I played with a loose thread on my shirt. “Well? Yes or no.”

  “Aye, I’ll play your little game. Then maybe I won’t have to hear your whining about all the women who are throwing themselves at me, like that stewardess up there who looks like she wants to show off those lovely knockers.”

  I waved at the blond flight attendant Christian had his eye on. “Excuse me.”

  “Yes? Is there something I can get for you?”

  “Do you have an ice pack on board? My friend’s on his way to a special hospital in Washington to have someone look at his…” I reduced my voice to a whisper. “Genital rash. It’s burning, and ice usually helps reduce the swelling.”

  When she disappeared, Christian gave me a baleful stare. “I suppose you think you’re hysterical. If you really wanted to win, you wouldn’t be so quick to shoo them away.”

  I shrugged.

  “Miss!” he called out. “I don’t have a venereal disease.”

  Half the plane turned to look, and I scooted down, smothering my laughter.

  Christian flew back in his seat and grumbled.

  “You’re right,” I said, switching on the TV in front of him. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of our flight.”

  When I found a channel showing women running on a beach in their bikinis, I turned my head away and closed my eyes, a smile on my face.

  Chapter 12

  We caught a cab outside the airport and gave the driver the address to the tattoo parlor. I remained quiet for most of the drive, watching drizzle coat the dirty windows. A hazy mist enveloped the city, painting the landscape a dull grey. There was an abundance of trees in Bellingham, and mountains surrounded the city. Even though the temperature was in the upper fifties, I’d had the good sense to bring my leather jacket and boots. I’d also borrowed one of Wyatt’s brown beanie hats to keep my head dry. Christian wore his usual ensemble: a black trench coat and dark sunglasses, but he also had on a pair of leather gloves. I found it amusing since the temperature didn’t faze him, but perhaps he thought it gave him a more formidable appearance.

  Since our bags were still in the trunk, Christian instructed the driver to keep the meter running while we went into the tattoo parlor. I emerged from the cab and stepped in a shallow puddle of water before hopping onto the sidewalk. The overhang had TATTOO writ
ten in large letters, and the windows were colorfully lit with neon signs that repeated the words on either side of the door in red letters. BLACK CAT TATS was displayed on one window, and I noticed a Breed symbol directly below. It didn’t mean they exclusively served Breed, but they were the preferred customers.

  As soon as we walked in, my eyes scanned the yellow walls covered with photographed images of tattoo designs. There were a couple of people on the couch browsing through tattoo books.

  “Where are the chairs?” I asked. I’d never been in a tattoo parlor and had imagined it looking like a beauty parlor.

  “Everyone gets a private room,” a man in a top hat answered. He was standing behind a short counter to my right, his fingers splayed as he leaned forward and regarded us with a fixed stare. Tattoos covered his arms like sleeves from shoulder to knuckle. “What can I do for you?”

  Christian glided up to the counter. “We’re looking for One Eye.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Christian smiled, and his fangs punched out.

  “I’m One Eye,” a voice boomed from the back. “Who’s asking?”

  We both turned to look, and a stocky Native about my height headed in our direction. His wiry hair—a mixture of black and grey—was woven into two long braids, one on either side of his head. The black patch across his left eye explained his name. Unlike his partner behind the counter, his only visible tattoos were skulls on his hands.

  “I’m Christian Poe, and this is Raven Black. We’d like a private conversation regarding a previous customer.”

  One Eye stopped in front of Christian. “If some asshole has a problem with my work, he can come see me himself.”

  Christian retracted his fangs. “Now is that any way to speak of the dearly departed?”

  One Eye flicked a hard glance between the two of us. “Come this way.”

  He led us through an open doorway in the back and down a hall to the right. The walls were narrow and painted blood red, and it smelled like stale cigarettes. We entered a room with a red chair that reclined back—something I might have seen at the gynecologist, minus the stirrups, back in the days when I was human.

  One Eye sat down on a rolling chair. “One of you is getting inked. No one comes into my shop and leaves without ink. It’s your choice if you want me to apply liquid fire.”

  Christian grinned, and it was all teeth. “Ladies first,” he said, making a sweeping arm gesture toward the chair.

  A bead of sweat appeared on my brow. “I’ve never had a tattoo, so you go.”

  “And you assume I have one?”

  “I’m indecisive.”

  He gripped my shoulders and walked me to the chair. “She’ll be getting the recipe for egg rolls… in Chinese.”

  I glared at him as I sat down.

  One Eye had his back to us, busy with his equipment. “Where are you from? You don’t sound local.”

  “I didn’t know I had an accent,” I remarked. “We’re from Cognito.”

  “That’s a long way to travel.”

  While he continued messing with his ink gun, I whispered quietly so only Christian could hear. “I can’t get a tattoo. I’m a crossbreed and don’t know if it’ll be permanent.”

  His expression tightened, and he spoke quietly. “You’re half Mage and half Vampire. Tattoos aren’t permanent for either. Next excuse?”

  “Then we’re going to leave. I’m not doing it.”

  “Oh, for feck’s sake.”

  One Eye turned around in his chair, his ink gun in hand.

  “Change of plans.” Christian removed his coat and yanked me out of the chair. He glared at me. Hard. And that was when I decided I needed to make this opportunity count.

  I grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled a tattoo suggestion on a piece of paper, then handed it to One Eye.

  He gave Christian, who was preoccupied with staring at the ceiling, a stony look. “I’ll put it on your neck.”

  I casually sat down in the small chair by the door. Inwardly, I was falling over with laughter.

  Christian watched in silent torment as the needle moved toward him.

  “Don’t worry, Vampire. You should be used to having sharp things at your neck by now.” One Eye rolled up his chair and began.

  “Don’t you need to draw a pattern?” Christian asked.

  “I freestyle. So tell me why you’re in my shop asking about a dead person. Are you with the higher authority?”

  The needle began buzzing, and Christian let out an irritated sigh. “We’re trying to identify a woman, and we think you can help. She had a tattoo.”

  “Lots of people have tattoos. What makes you assume it’s one of mine?”

  I reached in my purse and held up the photocopy. “Not many people know how to speak this language.”

  He gave it a cursory glance and continued inking his design.

  Christian tried to look at him, but One Eye shoved his head to the side. “Is her tattoo a proverb you put on everyone’s arse?”

  The needle buzzed, leaving a black line on Christian’s pure skin. “It’s an old saying we have. It means that a man knows himself better once he’s suffered, and he shouldn’t go through life avoiding the things that will break him.”

  I put the photograph back in my purse. “That’s an unusual thing for a woman to get. Is that something she requested?”

  He briefly stopped and sat back. “Everyone has a story. Some people come into my shop and pick out something random; others have a design in mind that means something to them. Every so often, I get someone who’s been through a traumatic event and doesn’t know what they want, so I choose for them. She was a woman afraid to love again.” One Eye went back to his work.

  An image flashed in my mind of that poor woman lying in the alleyway. “We know you keep records because of the money transactions. All we’re asking for is her name, phone number, address—anything that will give us her identity. Do you also accept human customers?”

  Christian grimaced. “Feck me. Go easy, will ya?”

  One Eye pushed Christian’s jaw up, not even caring that he was messing around with a Vampire who could crush his skull with one blow. “Everyone who comes in is Breed, but they don’t always tell me what race, and I don’t really care. She asked for liquid fire, so she wanted it to be permanent. Sometimes they leave my shop uncertain and want to wear it around for a while before they decide.”

  Christian had one foot on the floor as if he was ready to get up. “Did she live around here?”

  “Yes.”

  We shared a glance. What could have brought a local woman all the way out to Cognito? Maybe her profession required traveling.

  The moment One Eye rolled his chair back, Christian sat up and gave me a frosty stare. I shrugged but felt no guilt. A tattoo didn’t stay on Vampires unless they used liquid fire to seal it, and since I wasn’t your average immortal, there was no telling how impermanent it would be on my neck.

  One Eye set down his needle and tossed a rag at Christian. “Wipe that over your neck to clean off the excess. If you two want a name, it’ll cost you.”

  “This is a murder case,” I said.

  He wiped his inky fingertips against his dark pants. “If you were law, I’d have no choice. But seeing as you aren’t, that means my time comes at a price.”

  I didn’t like the way he kept staring at my eyes. Something about his expression gave me the shivers. I reached in my purse and handed him some large bills. “This should be enough for a name.”

  One Eye slowly rolled forward and took the money, his eyes on mine. “Penny Burns. I never forget a name.” He abruptly stood up and stuffed the money into his back pocket. “Go to the front desk and tell my assistant to give you her address. I don’t want to see you again, so stay out of my shop.”

  Christian stood up and bowed. “We appreciate your assistance.”

  One Eye turned around with a bottle of liquid fire. “It’s on the house.”


  Christian searched the room for a mirror, but there was none. “I’ll wear it for a while and see.”

  “You do that.”

  When we left the tattoo parlor, Christian still hadn’t seen the tat on his neck. The one that looked like a gift tag with DRINK ME written on it, the strings disappearing into his skin as if they were wrapped around his vein.

  “You’re telling me you don’t have a mirror in that bag of yours?” He glared at me in the backseat of the cab.

  The driver was taking the scenic route, so I knocked on the plastic divider once more to get him to speed up.

  “What’s taking Wyatt so long to call back?”

  Christian widened his legs. “He’s probably downstairs heating up fries. It’ll take him an hour before he’s back upstairs.”

  Wyatt was supposed to research Penny’s name and find out what her Breed was, now that we had confirmation she wasn’t human. Niko had implied she was a Mage, but we couldn’t jump to conclusions without more evidence. I wasn’t convinced. I’d drained many a Mage, and not one of them had ever died from blood loss. Pulling their core light and rendering them mortal was the only way I’d been able to finish the job. Maybe a young or weak Mage could succumb to blood loss, but with so many victims, it seemed unlikely that they all fit that pattern.

  “What’s going on in that noggin of yours?” Christian asked. “You’ve been gazing out the window like a lost child.”

  “Why was One Eye staring at me like that?”

  “Is that all?”

  I adjusted my hat so my hair was out of my eyes. “Maybe I’m kind of familiar with that look. It’s the one people give you when they want you dead.”