Honorable Rogue

by Linda J. Parisi

  Not even the blood. Until now.

  The revelation rocked him right down to his toes. She cared.

  Hunter’s teeth clicked shut, and his breath hissed inward between them. He pulled her head away, lifted her to her feet, slid open the shower door, dried them both off with a quick swipe of a towel, and pulled her into the bedroom.

  He could hear her heart racing—indeed, his was too. Her blood called to him, but this moment was about lovemaking. He pushed the urge deep down where it couldn’t get out and flipped her over. She held on to her bed as he plunged into her warm cavern from behind, licking at her back with his tongue.

  She cried out, and he filled her until he could go no farther. Then he slid out and slammed into her again.

  Hunter sank into sensation. Her warmth enveloped him. Her inner muscles clenched and let go, drawing out every ounce of feeling. He pulled out and thrust again, finding a rhythm between their bodies. She reached the brink, and he stilled until she shuddered, waiting until she cooled off enough for him to begin again.

  He reached up to caress her breasts and play with her nipples. She growled. He thrust deep inside and growled with her. Sometimes the build was slow. Sometimes hard and fast sated the body but not the mind. But this? Together they were lightning. Together they were thunder. Together they outshone even the gods and made a mockery of them. Together they came.

  The explosion emanated from everywhere. Light flashed before closed eyelids. She shouted. He cried out. They shattered together.

  Another first in a night of firsts. Hunter found release. Never pleasure. But at this moment, collapsed on top of her back, his own blood pounding in his ears, Hunter found all that had been missing in his bleak and terrifying existence.

  Peace.

  Chapter Ten

  Tori came to awareness in stages. Her heat warmed his skin, which in turn warmed her as he lay wrapped around her, one arm about her waist, curved to meet her entire length. She settled into the mattress completely content. His arm tightened, and Tori decided she didn’t really want to turn over. Instead, she relaxed and sank back down into his protective embrace.

  Tori didn’t normally sleep with men. Okay, such a statement wasn’t exactly right. Tori didn’t invite men to sleep in her bed overnight. Even afterward. She never wanted to get close to another human being again. Close meant opening. Close meant joy. Tori had no right to that emotion ever again. Close meant laughter, not tears. Close meant trying to live. And how could she try to live when all she felt was the constant pain of loss?

  She’d been through every stage of blame. First, last, and always herself for not being home when they’d tried to rob the house. Second, her father for doing what had come so naturally to him, protecting his family. Third, her mother for suggesting the outing in the first place.

  What good did blaming everyone do? Did it bring them back?

  So much better to simply exist in the world and let the wall take care of the emptiness. Only she wasn’t alone, now was she? And Hunter simply felt right beside her. How was that? Rather than answer, Tori dozed, flagrantly dismissing the rest of the things she needed to do. And when she awoke a second time, she was alone on the bed, covered by a blanket against the chill of the early autumn air coming through an open window and sated beyond belief.

  She threw on a T-shirt and slacks and stepped out of the bedroom. The dishes she’d left on the counter from the dishwasher had been put away. The laundry she’d left in the washing machine had been dried and now sat neatly folded in the laundry basket. He’d even washed and dried his own clothes. And the garbage she’d left to throw in the outdoor trash was gone.

  Hunter sat in her recliner, regarding her carefully. Tori decided to keep things neutral. “You’re handy to have around.”

  She tried to read him, but he sat behind his stoic demeanor like it was a shield. “I don’t like being idle.”

  Bemused, Tori simply stared. If she couldn’t read him, she left herself open to all sorts of thoughts which, of course, led to all sorts of chaos inside as her gaze drank in every detail of his chiseled features. “Umm, thank you.”

  So hard to comprehend. Every time she thought she understood him, even a piece of him, he retreated. He became the ice man, taking what was around him inside but never letting anything out.

  And yet she knew the river of fire flowing just beneath his cold hard exterior. She’d drowned in it. Which begged the question, who was Hunter? Why the on-off switch all the time? Tori wondered if she’d ever know as she walked over and lifted the laundry basket to put her clothes away. “If I’m going to move in for a couple of weeks, I need to pack some clothes and things.”

  “Anything you need can be provided. All of the equipment you requested will be delivered tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? On a Sunday? Impossible,” she blurted.

  He smiled. “Nothing is impossible. Arrangements can always be made.”

  Laughter bubbled, but she held it down. Sam’d said the same thing to her. “I’m beginning to get that.”

  Was his an offer she wasn’t supposed to refuse? Not that she would after what they’d just shared. Then it hit her. Was this all one sided? Had they shared?

  He stared at her, his gaze guarded. He’d heard the question loud and clear and wasn’t giving her a hint of his true feelings. So here was another one. Did she even want him to share? Then she realized. She was playing with him. Stepping forward. Stepping back. Tori hated those kinds of games.

  Her gaze fell to the floor. There was safety in the wood. From his thoughts. From hers. From what was going on between them.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering in.” Talk about banal. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Don’t think right now. It’s easier not to think. Picture the ocean. “I could’ve cooked. Just for one, and all.”

  “Not necessary,” he replied, studying her. “Food delivery services are very convenient.”

  Am I too? The words popped into her mind before she could stop them.

  He frowned to hide—what? Was that? Could that actually be hurt in his gaze? Because she thought him capable of being beyond callous?

  “Of course, you would know this being a two-thousand-year-old vampire,” she added to keep a rein on her thoughts.

  “Nineteen hundred and seventy-eight, to be exact.”

  Tori wasn’t sure how to feel. One minute he was pulling her close, trying to make her feel better, and the next? God he could be cold.

  “And for that very reason,” he replied, still showing little to no emotion.

  Tori wondered if she’d ever get under that thick skin of his. Did she even want to? “What reason?”

  “Knowledge is power. Knowledge is survival.”

  Her first thought was their complete lack of understanding about their own physiology. What could be more important? They had absolutely no idea what constituted their own biology. Then she thought of basic instincts. Animals didn’t question what they were. Was this closer to the point? About to ask, Tori changed her mind. “You say those words as if you think it’s an ‘us’ against ‘them’ world. Sam doesn’t.”

  His face tightened. “I’m not as good at looking at the ‘big’ picture.”

  If what he’d told her was true, then he had just cause. “I guess I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Nor am I capable of caring.” Had he just issued a warning? Sure sounded like one.

  Okay. Neither was she. “I guess I’ll have to remember that too.”

  Tori turned and stormed into her bedroom. She started slamming the clothes from the basket into her drawers, then realized he could hear. Was everything a battle to him? Did he always have to be the victor?

  She went into the shower, rinsed off, fixed her hair, and packed. It became a matter of pride. Because Sam was right. Humans were as good as vampires. And she was a whole lot tougher than she looked.

  Her food arrived. Lobster mac and cheese. Tori opened a bottle of light rosé and sat
down. “I’d prefer it, next time, if you’d stay out of my head. I’m capable of telling you what I’d like to eat. Humans talk with each other. They communicate. I’d have thought you’d remember.”

  He shrugged off her barb, went over to her bar, and picked out a cabernet. Pouring a small amount, he sat down next to her. “I’ll try.”

  Stunned, Tori stared at the glass in his hand. “You can drink?”

  “Small amounts,” he answered with a slight grimace. “More, and we get violently ill.”

  Damn. Despite everything, despite this insane need to one-up each other, he fascinated her. “Liver and kidneys probably don’t function well. If at all.”

  Tori swallowed a couple of bites. The dish was her fave. And really good. After another couple bites, she asked the question that needed asking. “Am I just an object, then? A thing to be used and discarded when you don’t want me anymore?”

  Strange, how he seemed to crawl inside himself. Why? He couldn’t possibly feel guilty. He used every opportunity to push her away and to make sure she knew her place. “I tried to warn you. What happened with Charles and Stacy should never have happened.”

  Confused Tori asked, “Why?”

  “It is forbidden. Humans must not know we exist.”

  She stared at him hard. “And the real reason?”

  He didn’t answer at first, and she got her first glimpse of the wall. Only pain, the kind of pain she knew, made that kind of wall. “Because their union will only bring sorrow. She will live, what? Another sixty or seventy years? And then what?”

  Suddenly Tori realized. “Who hurt you, Hunter?”

  “Everyone.”

  Unable to truly comprehend his human life, Tori could only guess. But he knew. He understood. They shared common ground.

  Still, because Tori was human, she defended. “I feel sorry for you because you’ll never understand. No, correction: you’ll never let yourself understand. Charles is willing to accept that agony. He loves her.”

  She took a sip of her wine and continued in earnest. Because these were the moments that enabled her to get out of bed in the morning and allowed her to trudge on through another day. “Look. I’m happy for them. Stacy is my friend. She’s my best friend. If she’s happy, nothing else matters,” she continued. “She helped me live through a part of my life that was unlivable. I’ll root for both of them.”

  But I carry the pain of a loss no one will understand. “But I already know where this ends up,” she continued. “At least I have that. Chaz doesn’t, and he’ll have to learn this lesson the hard way. While I’m happy for both of them, I’m also really, really sad. Sometimes it’s better to have lived and loved, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?” he barked at her. Bitterness surrounded his next words, spat out as if they were made from acid. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. Sometimes it isn’t.”

  And then she saw it. The agony. So much deeper and so, so much more than she could ever have understood. “I loved once. As much as I was able.”

  “What happened?” she asked in the same earnest tone as before.

  He seemed about to change his mind and not answer. Then in a low monotone he said, “My master found out I cared about her. Groped her in front of me. Forced me to watch. He made sure I knew what would happen next.”

  Tori’s stomach turned over. She pushed her plate away and swallowed a quick sip of wine to remove the sour taste in her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  Without raising his voice yet making the sound as cold as a winter’s day he asked, “Are you? Because she was carrying my child. He made sure I knew exactly what would happen to the baby, what kind of slave it would become. Life became too much for her. Do you want to know why?”

  Tori nodded because she needed to know.

  “Because after my child was born, she knew he would force himself to use her again and again until she got pregnant. With his child this time. Because a child with patrician blood would make a truly good slave. Good stock. A better breed.”

  Bile rose in her throat. “Force himself?”

  “Yes. He preferred men.”

  She sighed, hating the cruelty humans were capable of. “I guess you do know.”

  He nodded. They shared the pain of losing a loved one. Now the shower made sense. She reached out to cover his hand with hers. He pulled back. “I don’t want your pity,” he hissed.

  Tori retreated and rose. Now Hunter made sense too. The push and pull. The warm and the cold. The take and no give. She emptied her plate in the garbage.

  “We were things. Animals. Cows. Pigs. Slaves. Do you know what being a slave was like? To be painted and dressed and sold to the highest bidder every night? To fight in an arena and kill and kill and kill?” She watched him stare at his hands, and she knew he was seeing the blood on them.

  “I tried to warn you,” he shuddered, drawing in a deep breath to collect himself. “Don’t care about me. I’m incapable of those kinds of feelings.”

  Hurt. Hurting for him, Tori rose. She picked up her wineglass and walked out onto her balcony to watch the night deepen. In the distance she could just about hear the ocean against the shore. A song entered her mind. An old Barry Manilow song whose words talked about the wonder of sharing and letting a person inside. She hoped he was listening as she sang it inside her head.

  Because Hunter was wrong. Every fiber of her being told her she was right. The human race? Not known for its stellar moments. And God knew she’d been the victim of one of those moments. But Hunter’s problem wasn’t that he was incapable of feeling. They were kindred spirits in this sense, for his problem was he felt too much, and when the dam broke, those feelings would drown him. Destroy him.

  Someday it would happen. She almost felt sorry for him. For when it did, he’d realize circumstances didn’t make a man a man. Or a vampire a vampire.

  What was inside did.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tori drank too much. Finished the bottle. Hunter didn’t stop her, hoping it would ease her pain. He wished for a moment he could join her and try to erase the memories haunting him.

  He also knew nothing would.

  Hunter tucked his past deep inside where it belonged and got down to the present. While Tori slept, he could use this time. So, Hunter hunted, with some unexpected help. As he scoured Tori’s parking lot for any sign of Casperian or Casperian’s minions, a sleek, black sedan pulled into a space near Tori’s townhouse.

  Hunter knew his opponent all too well, making the extra help very welcome. Still, he’d given no order, so he flashed Mercedes a questioning glance as three of her soldiers slipped out of sight to guard Tori.

  “I’m off duty, sir. As are my men.”

  Highly commendable. Mercy was the consummate soldier. “You should be enjoying your time off, then.”

  She paused, her mouth quirking as she picked up on the scent of his recent lovemaking. “As you’ve been doing, sir?”

  Was she needling him? “Yes.”

  She seemed to hide a smile as she answered, “We all took care of that before we left the compound.”

  He frowned. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  She shrugged. “I like her. This human. She’s different.”

  “She’s food,” he reminded her.

  Mercy surprised him with a sigh. “She wants to help us.”

  “She’s dangerous. Emotional bonds are dangerous. They make us vulnerable.”

  “They make us”—she stared at him hard—“human.”

  Hunter didn’t answer. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Sam had said the same thing. His hand fell, fingers closing into a fist. He wasn’t wrong. Invisibility was the key to survival.

  “We need to accept change, sir. I was thinking of talking to Tori and asking… I’ve been wondering ever since I met her, and then, when I saw you take her down to the lab, the question came to me again.” Mercy hesitated, and he wondered why.

  “Wh
at question?”

  “I keep wondering why we don’t work on finding a blood substitute, something with the ability to sustain us, something that would make us free to blend into this world.”

  “This isn’t a television show!” he shot back.

  Mercy gave as good as she got. “I know.” She surprised them both with her vehemence. “I also know time dictates change. At the very least, we need to know more about ourselves so we can survive.”

  “Perhaps,” he sighed. “Though right now, we have a duty to fulfill.” He held up his hand to stop Mercy’s next tirade. “And we need to protect her so we can find out how these rogues are being created.”

  “My men are perfectly capable,” Mercy shot back, her tone filled with frustration.

  “No, they aren’t,” he insisted, knowing he was right. “Even all four of you. Even as well trained as you are. You’re still working against the odds.”

  “Not when I’m around.”

  Hunter whirled. How the hell hadn’t he sensed her? Damn, the woman was like a cat. And the absolute last person on earth he wanted to see now. “Vanessa. It’s been a long time.”

  Flaming-red hair, emerald-green eyes. Tall. Almost as muscular as a man. Yet stunningly beautiful. Another Paladin who called herself Vanessa because one definition of the name was “being overlooked by others, taken for granted.” He wasn’t sure how that was possible. She was hard to miss.

  “Hunter,” she acknowledged.

  Hunter couldn’t help noticing as Mercy paled for a moment. He stiffened. “Let’s agree to not like one another and be done with it,” Vanessa added, her gaze not on him but on his lieutenant.

  “All right. Let’s also agree that I didn’t ask for your help. This is a private matter.”