Not An Angel (A Poryria Vampire Novel (Book 1))

by Dawn Chartier

  After setting the food on the nightstand, he moved next to her and mentally eased her pain. “You needed sleep and nourishment. I should have fed you. I’m not use to human habits.”

  “Really, I’m okay. My headache is easing up as we speak.” Kira eyed the bag. “What’s that?”

  “You like steak?”

  She nodded, and he pulled the plastic container out of the brown bag.

  “Smells good. I could eat a horse.” She grinned.

  He was glad to hear it, and insisted on feeding her.

  Half way through she stopped. “You’re not eating?”

  “I already ate.”

  Kira blushed. “I remember. Are you better now?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He wanted to warn her to never put herself in danger like that again, but the time wasn’t exactly right.

  He didn’t want to explain the details of his eating habits right now either. Blood was what kept him alive. Just like humans, but instead, he had to absorb it every few days.

  Kira busied herself taking large bite after large bite until she finished the last morsel. She wiped her mouth. “That hit the spot.”

  He placed the empty food container on the nightstand. Shocked by how fast she ate, and how she enjoyed the almost rare meat, he shook his head and stood. They needed to talk.

  “We should discuss what happened earlier.”

  “Mind if I use your tub?”

  Seemed she wasn’t ready to talk. He’d have to explain some things later. Sex and blood exchanging were not only what she thought it to be. “I’ll run your water.”

  “I got it.”

  “No. I insist. You should take it easy.” He kissed her hand and smiled. “I want to take care of you.”

  She smiled. “That’s sweet, but I’m fine.”

  “It’s hard for you to let someone take care of you isn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve always been the one doing for others. I’ll let you in on a secret. I kinda like someone doing something for me. It’s a nice change.”

  “Glad you like it.” He took her hand and squeezed. He leaned closer and kissed her passionately, hints of blood from the steak mingled with her taste. His hunger for her rose once more, but he forced it down. He leaned back, watching a smile form across her lips. She shook her head and then glanced toward the other room.

  The sound of bath water running filled the room. “How’d you do that?”

  Trace shrugged. “Truthfully, I don’t think about it. I just do.” That was true.

  Her eyes widened. “I could certainly use that talent.”

  “I’m sure most people would agree with you.” He took her hand. “Let’s get you bathed. Can you stand on your own?”

  “Yes. Of course. I’m fine. Relax, okay?”

  Trace followed close on her heels. “Allow me to undress you.”

  She smiled, turned and put her hand on his chest. “I can handle this. I’m sure you have things to do.” She turned toward the tub. “I’ll be soaking up the bubbles.”

  She was right. He didn’t want to wear her down. “I’d rather stay, but I do have something that needs to be taken care of. I’ll be back shortly.” Trace watched her blouse and pants fall to the floor. His gaze followed her as she climbed into the Jacuzzi. She slid down allowing the bubbles to cover her. She turned, catching him watching.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you had things to do.”

  “I do.” He hesitated before leaving the bathroom. He wanted to climb into the tub with her, but he had to meet with Dev before he did anything else.

  In his study, he stood leaning over his desk thinking of how he’d love to have her in his tub night after night. Deep in thought, Trace froze when Dev cleared his throat. He did a double take when he took in Dev’s long dark leather coat, jeans ripped at the knees, and white t-shirt shredded across his chest in several moon shapes. The style didn’t fit him. Dev was more of a suit-kinda-guy. No, Dev was a suit guy. “What’s with the garb?”

  Dev glanced at his clothes and frowned. “Don’t like?”

  Trace shook his head. “Not on you.”

  “Too bad. Since you’ve been upstairs playing house, someone had to play terminator, and I didn’t want to ruin my Versace suit.”

  What would it matter? Dev had plenty of money and suits. He knew the outfit was just for theatrics. A way of telling Trace he was not happy that he was neglecting his job. “Mike and I are on it tonight. We’ll get the bastard this time.”

  “Good. Third strike and you’re out.” Dev glared at him. “Last spot I traced the rogue, he was at a warehouse on Gravier. Start there. Oh, and Landon and his crew should be here just in case you should fail again.”

  Trace shook his head. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Don’t thank me. The Queen wants a report directly after.” Dev’s lip quirked then he vanished.

  He scrubbed his cheeks with his hands. The Queen sure had more interest in this rogue than any other they’d hunted before. He thought back to his last encounter with her. She’d acted odd, like she was hiding something. He wasn’t sure what. Trace walked to the liquor cabinet, where he found his hidden stash. He poured the last glass of O+ and downed it. The only type his kind could digest without taking it directly from the source. Kira’s blood had filled his momentary need, but he hungered for a lot more after their time in bed. He couldn’t ask her for more. She’d already put herself in danger from his last tasting.

  *******

  Kira rested her head on the rim of the tub. The water’s steam rose to the ceiling, clouding the mirror over the pedestal sink. She closed her eyes taking in the coconut fragrance from the bubbles. The sweet smell reminded her of a Pina Colada drink. The scent helped her tired body rejuvenate as she soaked in the warmth. She grabbed the soap from the side and it slipped from her fingers splashing water onto her face and onto the tile floor. She leaned over glancing at the mess. The splash brought thoughts of her baby into her mind.

  How Bre had loved her baths. She’d soak the entire floor and Kira, too. Her hands slapping into the water, her eyes squinting, blinking as the bubbles covered her chubby round face.

  God, Kira missed her. Would the ache ever go away? Would she ever fill that emptiness in her heart? She thought of Trace. A part of him did fill her heart, but in an entirely different way.

  Trace was her angel, whether he wanted to believe it or not. He made her believe life could be more than pain again. His touch was sincere. He’d put her first. Pleasing her in bed before he’d allow himself to be pleased. No man had ever done that for her. She no longer worried that he was not human. His heart sure was.

  But, reality hit. He was Poryria. She would die, but he could live for a long time, she wasn’t sure how long, but it would be a lot longer than her life. She thought about that for a moment and realized that would be a switch. Most people died before her or simply left. Then she thought about her growing old, and him staying young. He wouldn’t stick around with an old lady. She couldn’t ask him to do that. She closed her eyes and put the thought aside.

  After soaking for what must have been an hour, Kira noticed the prune-like wrinkles on her fingers. It was past time to get out. She dried herself, grabbed a large blue robe, then strolled out of the steamy bathroom to find Trace sitting in a large wingback chair. His masculine frame filled the chair nicely. The heat in his eyes was undeniable. He stood and then placed a wine glass on the cherry wood table next to him.

  She cleared her throat. “I hadn’t realized you came back in.” She rubbed the towel on her hair.

  His voice was thick. “I didn’t want to rush you.” Trace moved toward her. “But I have to leave.”

  “Oh?” Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t want him to go.

  “Mike and I have to track the rogue you saw. You mind staying here?”

  Kira didn’t like the idea of him having to go after that ugly creature. “Can’t someone else do it?”

  “No.” Trace strode towa
rd her. He put his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

  Mike appeared in the room. “Ready?”

  Trace glared at his brother’s intrusion. “Downstairs!”

  He turned to her. “Sorry. I’ll hurry. Stay put, okay?” He kissed her and disappeared.

  Kira stood with her arms around air. “I don’t like when you do that.” She shook her head.

  She pictured Trace fighting that cold-eyed, purple-skinned thing. Her heart hammered in her chest. She sighed, hating feeling useless and glanced around the room. Then she remembered she was wearing only a robe. She rushed into the bathroom threw on her clothes and quietly went downstairs.

  Before turning the corner, she overheard Trace telling Mike the location of where the Vry should be. She went cold at the mention of the evil, red-eyed creature.

  She entered the room. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  Trace strolled toward her and took her hands. “Absolutely not.”

  His words hurt as she realized how different their worlds were. She felt small compared to the power he held. “I see.”

  “Haven’t you had enough brushes with death?” He pushed her damp hair behind her ear.

  “I’m not saying I could kick the creature’s ass or anything, I’m just tired of—”

  “Let’s go, Trace.” Mike cut her off.

  Trace pulled her against him and kissed her. “You have no idea how much you’ve helped me already.” His lips brushed hers once more. “We shouldn’t be long.”

  Disappointment filled her. He’d rescued her several times. All she wanted was to help him, although she had no clue how, she was tired of sitting around being a victim. She sighed. “Be careful.”

  Trace and Mike left through the front door. She felt empty instantly. “At least you didn’t vanish this time.”

  A thin, dark-haired woman sung and swayed her hips to the music of an I-pod as she entered the room. Kira held her chest, startled.

  “Ma’am?” The woman couldn’t hear her as she swung a feather duster in one hand, and using the can of polish as a microphone in the other. She tapped the woman’s back, and the woman jumped. She placed her hand to her throat.

  “Lord, have mercy!”

  Kira stepped back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Whew. I’m okay. I think.” She took a deep breath. “You must be Mr. Stuart’s guest.”

  “Yes. I’m Kira. I didn’t realize someone was here.” Trace should have warned her. Was this woman a vampire like him?

  “I’m Karen. I help Trace with the house and other things. I’ll only be a few hours.”

  Odd that the woman worked this late, and then she remembered who her employer was. What better time. And why would a vampire work as a house cleaner? The woman was probably human.

  “That’s fine. I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Not at all. Make yourself at home. Would you like me to go shopping and get some food for the house?”

  “Oh no. I’ve eaten already. Thanks.”

  Karen nodded. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said, and then continued dusting.

  Kira plodded into the kitchen and gazed around the modernized room. There were no coffee pots, toasters or any gadgets on the counters. Did Trace eat? She bit her lip, strolled into the den and settled on the sofa. The remote sat on the table next to her. She flipped through several stations and then stopped dead.

  Her mouth dropped open when she recognized Jeff on the news. Shit. He’s out of jail already. What was he doing on the news? She raised the volume and leaned forward. Jeff stood on the steps of the court house holding a picture out for the cameras and media. Her body froze. The photo was of her.

  A news reporter lead-in by saying. “A woman who recently jumped from a bridge has accused the victim of kidnapping her.”

  Another man in a grey suit stood next to Jeff and began speaking. We are very pleased that the judge dropped all charges against my client, who has proven to be an upstanding citizen. Only trying to help his severely depressed sister-in-law. Since his brother’s death, she’s attempted suicide and escaped from the hospital. Even though she falsely accused him and sent him to jail, my client shows generosity toward her by trying to get her the help she needs. Mrs. McCoy is still suicidal and deranged. We must find her before she hurts herself or someone else. If anyone sees her please call the police immediately.

  A sharp stab of fear shot through her body. This couldn’t be happening. Her breath caught in her throat. “Ohmygod.” She closed her eyes tight. “What the hell am I going to do?” Confused, she could only think to find Trace.

  Several reporters began asking questions. She had to focus as Jeff spoke. After I brought her home, she went crazy and tried to harm herself again. Then she slung a big rock, hitting me in the head. He pointed to his bandage across his forehead. She called the police and convinced them that I attacked her. Being her only family, I want to make sure she is safe, and Doctor Reilly has confirmed she was using drugs. All I really want is for her safety and for her to have the best psychiatric care. But as you can see by her current erratic behavior, she is a threat to herself and to others.

  She caught the smirk on his face as he turned away from the cameras. It was as though he was looking right at her, telling her he’d won. He would come for her, and this time, with the help of the police. Oh God!

  Kira sat trembling. She bit the inside of her lip. Her feet bounced up and down on the floor. What if he were waiting for her outside with the police? She stood on wobbly legs and glided along the wall to the window. She peered from the corner of the curtains and scanned the driveway and yard. Dark. Quiet.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Kira spun around. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” No. She wasn’t. She had to find Trace. “Um. Have you seen a set of car keys?” She cleared her throat. “Trace said Mike drove my car here. I need to run to my apartment to get some things.” She couldn’t drag this stranger into her problems. She couldn’t tell her she needed to find Trace because crazy Jeff would attempt to take her again.

  “I saw a set of keys in the foyer on the table. Maybe they’re yours.” Karen walked out of the room and returned. “These?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  “Your car must be in the garage. I didn’t see it out front when I pulled up.”

  “Which way to the garage?” If Jeff was outside, she’d run him over. She’d rather be sent to jail than to feel his hands on her body ever again.

  “Are you okay?” Karen asked.

  “Yes. I’ll be back.” God, she hoped so.

  Chapter 15

  After getting off Convention Center Boulevard, Trace and Mike found the rundown abandoned warehouse. They got out and scanned the deserted commercial neighborhood. All was quiet, including his internal alarms. Something in his gut told him its peacefulness wouldn’t last.

  The dark gray sky threatened to rain on their hunt.

  Mike squatted and ran his fingers through the dirt. “Trace.”

  Trace moved toward him. “What is it?”

  “Footprints. Two different sizes and patterns.” Mike glanced at him. “Could be our rogue.”

  Trace inhaled. “It was.” Trace observed the rusty metal building, noting the rotten piece of tin. The second story windows were covered in grime. A grate ladder hung to the side of the building. “I’ll take the second story. You take the first floor.”

  Mike nodded.

  Trace climbed the stairs, taking his time moving toward the second floor balcony. He turned around, scanning the container yard. Pallets of neon blue barrels lined the twelve foot chain fence. He twisted around and peered in through the filthy glass pane of the door.

  He turned the knob. “What do you know?” The door was unlocked.

  Mike probed his mind. He mentally assured him all was well. “Yep. All’s good.” For now.

  He stepped inside, noticing file cabinets and p
apers scattered along the dirty black and white checkered tile floor. Along the wall sat two wood desks covered with beer bottles, cans and fast food trash bags. Homeless people had used the building at one time. Not anymore.

  Trace searched the rest of the second floor and found no remnants of the rogue, other than the smell. He cursed. This rogue was very careful and smart. Not a common trait. He was dealing with a demented creature. One who was up to something, but what?

  On his way down the inside stairs, it hit him. The burning sensation in his arms lit like fire. He sent a mental push to Mike. They’re here.

  Mike met him at the bottom of the stairs. “Ready to roll?”

  “Oh yeah. The bastard won’t get away this time.” Trace pushed his sleeves up to his elbows.

  Mike nodded. “Hell. If he gets away again, our asses will be served to the Queen on her silver platter.”

  “Not this time.” Trace smirked. “Not this time.”

  A large overhead door slid open, clanking along the way, and stopping with a bang. The rogue and two vampires made their way inside. The Vry from before immediately spotted them. He narrowed his glowing red eyes and hissed. The other two charged them.

  Trace pulled out his knife from behind his back. He nodded toward Mike, then shot forward. A rage of power surged through him as he approached the creatures.

  Trace slammed one of the foul slugs and they fell to the ground. He clamped the vampire’s head between his fists, squeezing. The rogue went crazy. He spun the creature on to its stomach, held its arms behind its back with one hand and shoved the knife deep into its back. The rogue’s body twitched under him. It was over. Trace yanked the knife out. Disappointed by the lack of fight in the vamp, he frowned.

  He rose from his knees and found the vampire who had stolen from him snarling. Oh was he pissed. Mike played games with the other amateur vampire and didn’t need any help.

  Trace turned in time to catch the Vry slamming into him. They rolled on the ground. The beast beat him standing. Trace threw out his leg, knocking the vampire back down. The vampire twisted around and out of his reach.