Undone (Vampire Awakenings, Book 5)

by Brenda K. Davies

  “I’m going.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He tried to sound nonchalant, but that was the last thing he felt right now. The idea of taking her into more locations like tonight made him want to drive his fist through a wall. The vamps in those places may be mostly incapacitated, but they could still be a threat to her. Not to mention, any of those dens could be wiped out at any time by Ronan or some other vamp who discovered them and knew what a risk they were to the vampire race’s existence.

  There were also places he was going to have to go in order to find out more information. Places she shouldn’t be in, but he knew she would insist on going with him. He needed more whiskey if he was going to get through this, and some blood, lots of blood.

  “How did you discover your ability to find people like that?” she asked.

  Walking back into the kitchen, Brian pulled the fridge open and removed two bags of blood. He didn’t care what she said, he could see her exhaustion and hunger in the shadows under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. She had to feed.

  “It was always something I could do a little. Then, one day, I needed it for more than trying to find the best scraps when I was hungry. I had to find someone close to me when I was a child, and I did,” he replied as he handed her the bag. He watched in fascination as she bit the corner of the bag and tore it open. Tilting her head back, she drained the blood in one gulp.

  She wiped the corners of her mouth when she was done. “I was hungrier than I’d realized,” she said.

  He handed her the bag he’d meant for himself before returning to the fridge and removing another bag for himself.

  “What about your parents? Didn’t they feed you?” she asked.

  “They took care of my siblings and I the best they could, but there were five of us to feed. My parents made the most of the little they were able to scrape together and I helped by bringing more food home. When I was twelve, they both died from influenza as well as three of my siblings. My youngest sister was only two at the time, and she was taken to an orphanage. I took off before they could lock me away too.

  “My sister was the first person I ever went looking for. I had planned to rescue her from the orphanage when I found her, but she’d already been taken in by a loving family who could do more for her than I could. She deserved a better life than living on the streets and scavenging for food, so I left her with her new family and never saw her again.”

  Abby struggled against the tears burning her eyes. Her entire life had been sheltered; she couldn’t deny it. When she was stable enough to control her hunger, she’d been let out into the world and allowed to go to school. She’d been given the chance to make friends and have a social life. Her large family was overprotective but also full of love and laughter. She’d never known adversity or loss, not like Brian did. She would have given anything to soothe the scars those losses must have left on his soul.

  “You were so young,” she murmured.

  “There were many who were younger than me on the streets back then, believe me.” He tore the top off his bag and drained the contents. He tossed the bag in the trash after he finished, then grabbed his whiskey glass.

  “What did you do after you left her behind?”

  “I survived, which was no small feat back then. If the starvation, diseases, and cold didn’t kill you, then you’d better watch out for the others running the street with you, because they would. I had no friends then either.”

  No wonder he’s so distant and harsh, she realized. All he’s ever known is violence, loss, and betrayal.

  “When I was fifteen, a blacksmith caught me trying to break in to steal some iron from his shop. Instead of handing me over to the law to have my hand lopped off, or beating me himself, he took pity on me and took me in. He set me up as his apprentice and taught me his trade. He and his wife didn’t have any children and treated me as if I were their own. It was the first time in my life I went to bed with a full belly every night.”

  “That was wonderful of them.”

  Brian tapped his fingers on the counter. Those years with Simon and Martha had been bookmarked by so much misfortune on both ends of them, that he didn’t like to think of the happy years he’d spent with the loving couple. It was sometimes more distressing to remember the happiness than it was to remember the sorrow.

  “Simon and Martha Stover were their names,” he told her. “I haven’t thought of them in decades.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “I hope they lived to be an old and happy couple before passing peacefully. It’s what I’ve always chosen to believe for them anyway. After I was turned, I fled Boston and didn’t return until twenty years later. They most likely would have passed on by then, but I didn’t look for them. Seeing me again, untouched by age, probably would have killed them if they had been still alive.”

  Abby fought against tears. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate them, and might stop talking if she did start to cry, but he painted such a lonely picture of his life. “How much time did you spend with Simon and Martha?”

  “A little over fifteen years. As soon as I was old enough, and experienced enough, I went into business with Simon. He expanded his shop for me, and between the two of us, we were able to do a lot of work. Simon was in his fifties at this point, but still strong and healthy. He was looking to take it easier, so I did a lot of the work, but I was happy to do anything I could to help them. They’d saved my life at a time when it had still been worth saving.”

  Abby flinched at his words. She wrapped her arms around herself instead of around him like she would have preferred. The way he accepted what he said about himself made her ache for him. She ran her hands up and down her suddenly chilled skin.

  Brian’s fingers stilled on the counter as, for the millionth time, he realized it would have been better if Simon had handed him over to the authorities or left him to starve in the alleyways. The earth would be short one less bloodthirsty monster if he had.

  “After I met Vivian, I stayed with Simon and Martha, happy to share the money though I could have made more on my own. They’d become like a mother and father to me by then.”

  “Who is Vivian?”

  “She was my wife.”

  Abby felt as if she’d been kicked in the gut. The air rushed out of her; her hands stilled on her arms as ice and heat licked over her skin in a rush that left her stunned. She didn’t understand the ferocity of her reaction to his last two words. He’d been married! He’d loved another, and judging by the sadness on his face now, he still loved her.

  “You were married?” she croaked.

  “I was.”

  Brian had no idea why he was telling her this. It was of no relevance to what they were both involved in now, but for some reason, he found the words spilling from his mouth. Perhaps, it was her bright, warm soul that had him revealing to her things only Stefan had known until now. Maybe it was because they didn’t really know each other, or maybe it was because she was listening, and it had been so long since anyone had listened to him.

  “Stefan never told you?” he asked. She closed her mouth and shook her head, but he didn’t understand the flicker of distress in her eyes.

  “No, he’s never talked of his past or yours with me. Maybe he’s told Isabelle these things, but not the rest of us. What happened to your wife?”

  “She was killed, along with our two daughters.”

  Abby’s eyes became the size of saucers as she gazed at him. “Daughters?”

  “Two. Beatrice and Trudy.”

  She had to sit down before she fell down. She sank onto the leather sectional couch positioned against the windows. The life he’d led, the suffering he’d endured, she didn’t know how he’d been able to continue living at all, never mind how he’d kept himself from turning into a blood-thirsty monster.

  Then she realized why he hadn’t given into his more malicious vampire urges. “They were killed by a vampire,” she guessed. She lifted her head
to look at him. He hadn’t become a monster who preyed on innocents because he despised what and who those vampires were. Instead, he’d become a vampire who preyed on those he deemed worthy of death due to their actions. “The same one who turned you.”

  His gaze focused on the twinkling lights of the city beyond her. “There were two vampires that night. The male killed my family; the woman turned me.” She pressed her knuckles against her mouth to hold back a sob. “Then they fled, leaving me there to endure the anguish of my family’s death as my body was brutally assaulted by the vampire blood coursing through my veins.”

  “I’ve heard the change is excruciating.”

  “It’s nothing compared to holding your daughter’s hand while she bleeds out in an alleyway, while you are helpless to save her because you yourself have been drained of everything you are. It still haunts my nightmares.”

  “Do you have nightmares about it often?”

  “Not as often as before,” he muttered.

  She was unable to stop the tear sliding down her face. He may be a better man than many judged him to be, but he was far more broken than she’d ever realized. There was no saving him, and she’d been a foolish girl to ever daydream about him. She didn’t know if he could ever truly care for another again, if he could ever care for her.

  What does it matter if he cares for you or not?

  It mattered because she’d always been an undeniable romantic at heart, and a part of her had always believed he was her mate. She’d tried to deny it, tried to replace him with someone her family would find more acceptable, but it had been impossible. Brian had shaken every belief she’d had about what she thought she wanted from a mate when he’d stepped into that hotel room so long ago.

  Prior to first seeing him, she’d always pictured a nice, calm mate, one who would love her family and who would be eagerly accepted by them for his kindness. She’d pictured a man who was a little more like Harry Potter with his massive heart for others, and a little less like Dexter the mindless killing machine.

  She’d pictured her future mate with glasses and wavy brown hair. He’d be patient, would disdain killing, and would be content to curl up with her before a fire and read a book. This man was the exact opposite of what she’d dreamed. She didn’t think he knew the meaning of relaxing and reading by a fire, but she couldn’t deny the irresistible pull she felt to him.

  She hadn’t been ready for him at fifteen, and he’d barely known she was alive, but she’d been only a child at the time. If he had looked at her with romantic interest back then, she probably would have been skeeved out, and her family would have killed him. Now, she was a woman, and though he looked at her like a woman, it was clear he was still nursing a couple centuries old broken heart.

  She couldn’t compete with that, nor did she want to.

  For the past year, ever since the day she’d woken up and realized she reached maturity and would never age another day again, she’d fought the urge to call him. She’d been curious what it would be like to see him again, to know if he could finally do what all the men since him had failed to do and make her desire to be touched by him.

  Well, he could definitely do that, but that was all he would ever be able to do for her. He would never be the uncomplicated mate of her early daydreams.

  “You loved your wife,” she stated.

  His eyes flickered; sadness crept over his weary features. He rubbed at the stubble lining his jaw. “Very much. I will always love her.”

  The little romantic in her was taking a big kick in the ass right now. If he was her mate, something she really hoped wasn’t true, but had the sinking sensation it was, she’d be attached to someone who would forever be in love with a ghost. Just because they were fated to be together, or however the mate bond worked, didn’t mean they had to love each other.

  She couldn’t live for an eternity without knowing love. She couldn’t live with the knowledge that he would forever wish she were another. It would eat away at her soul until it destroyed her. No matter how badly she wanted to have him ease the clamoring urges of her body, she couldn’t allow anything more to transpire between them. She could not take the chance of a bond forming between them.

  This was a working relationship only; she had to keep it professional and stay away from him. It would be a lot easier if he didn’t look so damn delicious and didn’t incessantly pull at her heartstrings.

  “What did you do after you were turned?” she asked, her curiosity winning out over her determination to distance herself from him. “I’ve heard it can be disorienting and that a newly turned vampire must feed right away. How did you survive?”

  “When I came to in that alley, the loss of my family and the shock of everything that had happened nearly drove me mad. I fled from their bodies, unsure of where to go and hungrier than I’d ever been in my life. I fed on a stable of horses, which helped to calm some of my disorientation, but it took me years to figure out exactly what I was and what I was capable of doing. Somehow, I managed to stumble through all of the new sensations and abilities that came from being a vampire without being killed or killing any humans.”

  Stumble he had, badly, many times. “I decided early on to punish vampires like the ones who had killed my family, so I soon discovered that feeding from our own kind gave me more power. I’d vowed never to kill a human even before I knew their deaths strengthened and weakened us by making it so we couldn’t go out in the sun and cross bodies of water. I broke that vow when those hunters attacked me and Stefan and I killed two of them.”

  Abby stared at him, willing him to look at her, but he remained steadfastly focused on the city beyond her. “That was self-defense.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I became the one thing I’d sworn never to be that night.”

  Abby’s fingers dug into her palms. Definitely not like Harry Potter at all, he wasn’t like anything she’d ever encountered before. “But you haven’t killed a human again since then. I would know.”

  “No, I haven’t. I would put myself down before I became a killer of innocents like some of our kind. But make no mistake, I am a killer. It’s what I enjoy most.”

  How was she supposed to respond to that? Oh, I enjoy a strawberry margarita on the beach the most, but hey, we each have our preferences. One thing was for sure, she had no idea how to handle this man. She wanted to run far away from him; at the same time, she wanted to throw her arms around him and ease his torment.

  “It’s time for some sleep now,” he said abruptly.

  She knew he wouldn’t reveal any more tonight, something that was probably for the best for her. “Yes, of course,” she murmured.

  She swung her legs onto the couch and rolled to face the back of it. She’d never been so emotionally and physically exhausted in her life, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

  “What are you doing?” he inquired.

  “Going to sleep,” she muttered.

  She never heard him move, but she felt the heat of him against her back before he touched her shoulder. Electricity sizzled through her body, which only made her feel like crying. If Vicky were here, she would know how to handle this, or at least listen to the whining tantrum Abby wanted to throw. Things had been tough for Isabelle and Stefan. Stefan had led a violent, brutal life like Brian, but his heart had at least been free to love.

  She’d gotten a guy who was more closed off than Fort Knox.

  And Vicky may be sitting in a crack house right now, feeding on drug addicts, so put on a helmet and suck it up, buttercup. It could still get a lot worse.

  Taking a deep breath, she kept that reminder firmly in mind as she rolled over to face him. There were far more important things to concern herself with right now than the death of childish hopes. Vicky was her primary focus. There was a chance she’d been stuck with an emotionally unavailable mate, but she had a kick-ass twin she missed more than she would have missed her own arm.

  “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll
take the couch,” he offered.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I insist.” He pointed to a set of stairs winding to the loft above. “Bed’s up there along with another bathroom. There will be clean towels and bedding.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  She moved away from his touch, rose to her feet, and trudged sluggishly toward the stairs. She was tempted to call Issy and talk to her about everything, but she couldn’t put this on her sister, and she knew Issy wouldn’t be able to stay away if she did. This was her dilemma to deal with.

  She really hoped she was doing the right thing by keeping her family out of this right now. Vicky would be infuriated with her for calling them; they had their own lives and families to take care of now.

  If she and Brian didn’t find Vicky soon, she’d risk her sister’s wrath and make the call, but for now, she would continue to keep them out of it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Brian draped his arm over his head as he stared at the loft above him. Early morning sunlight filtered around the heavy drapes he’d pulled over the windows before crashing on the couch. He’d spent the last hour staring up there, willing her to wake up, praying she didn’t, and trying to ignore his throbbing hard-on.

  What kind of hold did this girl have over him? He’d dreamt of seeing her in that dorm room with no bra and her full breasts swaying beneath her shirt. He’d dreamt of her pale hair spilling around him as she’d moved over top of him while moaning in delight. Dreamt of taking one of those breasts into his hand and suckling upon her pert nipple before sinking his fangs into her tender flesh.

  Now, the object of his tantalizing dreams was up there, in his bed. Had she slept in a nightgown, or had she been naked when she climbed between his sheets? He bit back a groan as he fought the urge to take hold of himself and ease some of his need.

  What would she do if she woke to find him pleasuring himself? Would she blush and run away, or would she watch him in that rapt way she sometimes did? Would she offer to come down and do it for him? The mere thought of her small hand wrapping around him almost made him explode.