Vampire Undone

by Shannon Curtis

  He stilled at her touch, then turned his head, but not enough to meet her eyes.

  “You’re hurt,” she whispered, not sure how to hide her concern.

  “It’s just a graze. Silver bullet. Takes a little longer to heal.” His words were clipped, but his tone was gentle.

  He really had put his body on the line for her. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He turned to face her, a light frown marring his handsome features. His blue eyes were troubled as he met her gaze. He opened his mouth but hesitated. He reached for her, pulling her against him, and enfolded her in his arms against the warmth of his muscled chest. Her eyes widened in surprise as he hugged her tightly and lay his cheek on her head. She could hear his heart beating against her ear, could smell him, all manly musk from the hike and their escape down the mountain. She hesitated then slid her arms around his lean waist and hugged him back. He was so warm, so strong. So...protective.

  He held her that way, his hand caressing her shoulder in small circles, an oddly comforting gesture, until the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She tilted her head, expecting him to step back, but he remained where he was, eyeing her. The doors started to close and his hand shot out. His bicep bunched as he prevented the doors from closing, and he eventually stepped out, his hand sliding down her arm to clasp her hand. He didn’t say a word, and she found it hard to read him, to figure out what exactly was going on inside his head. He hadn’t said anything about her ability to see ghosts, but she didn’t get the impression he was ignoring it. No, Lucien Marchetta was quietly assessing the facts and would discuss it when he was ready. Well, if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine by her. She couldn’t believe she’d admitted it to him in the first place.

  They walked, hand in hand, to their room. As soon as they were inside and the door was closed, Lucien led her to the sofa and took one of the armchairs opposite her. She eyed him. He really was a gorgeous man. Broad shoulders, smooth skin, and muscles that rippled with his every move. Not that she should be noticing this at all.

  His expression was calm, his tone mild. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Ghosts. You were saying?”

  Okay, so apparently he was ready to discuss it now. She took a deep breath, regretting her lapse from before, but he shook his head, as though he could see her trying to figure a way out of this conversation.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Tell me. What do you mean by ghosts? And what happened back there?”

  Did he realize he was sitting there without a shirt? And he expected her to concentrate? Okay, so maybe she was treating that gorgeous chest as an easy distraction, a way to avoid talking about something she found really difficult to talk about. Knowing Lucien, though, he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he got to the heart of the matter. She sighed.

  “When I... When I died, something...happened.” She shrugged. “I’m not quite sure what, but when I was revived, I could see people that nobody else could.” She folded her arms, her mouth turning down at the memory. “Initially, when they told the press I’d died, they had to hide me somewhere... When I started to speak to people who weren’t there, they hid me in the psychiatric ward.”

  She smiled bitterly. “My injuries healed, my white blood cell count went up. I was the first person to be cured of this type of cancer, and they thought I was going mad due to the trauma of losing my parents.” She shrugged. “To be honest, they weren’t too far off the truth. I was a mess when I realized they were truly gone and I was left. I had cancer as a kid. We all thought I’d die before them. I’d never once considered that I might outlive them.” She took a deep breath. “Do you...do you know how many people die in those wards? How many ghosts walk the halls of a hospital?” She shuddered as she remembered that time.

  “You...see ghosts,” Lucien repeated carefully. As though he was considering the insane idea might actually have merit.

  She nodded. “I know how crazy it sounds, but sometimes if I touch an object, it’s like waking up any ghosts attached to it.”

  His gaze dropped to her hands. “The gloves.” It wasn’t a question; he was just stating a simple fact as he put the facts together.

  She nodded. “Yeah, it helps minimize contact.”

  “What is it like? I mean, when you see a ghost?” He looked around the room. “Are there any here, now?”

  She smiled, surprised by the humor that tugged at her lips. “Uh, no. That book is in the car—”

  “That book? Our book? Our book has a ghost?” He leaned forward, surprised.

  “Yes. Her name is Courtney, and she was a student who was studying the poem when her school bus crashed.” Natalie winced. She’d had a nice little chat with Courtney back in Westamoor.

  “Is she...is she an angry spirit?” Lucien asked hesitantly, and then rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. Spirit, ghost—how does this all work?”

  Well, at least he wasn’t calling her all kinds of crazy. That was a good start, right? Natalie rubbed her arms and her brow dipped. “I’m not quite sure,” she admitted. “I thought I understood, but...” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so people die. Sometimes they must go on to some sort of happy place, whatever that might be. Other times, they may attach to something, or someone... They get confused and hang around what’s familiar, I guess.” She carried around her mother’s locket, on the off chance she might actually see her parents again, but as yet that hadn’t happened, may never happen.

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed, his blue gaze glittering as he tilted his head to the side. “Is there a ghost at the institute?”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Yes. His name is Rupert, and he’s very sweet. He died of a heart attack during one of his lectures, way before my time.”

  “He threw the book at me, didn’t he?” Lucien stated, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the chair.

  She tried not to stare at the play of muscles across his chest.

  “He’s a little protective, sometimes,” she acceded. “He’s also been a ghost for so long, he’s learned a few tricks. But when that book hit you in the face, it wasn’t Rupert. That was...unusual.”

  Lucien’s eyebrows rose. “Another ghost?” He frowned. “What do you mean ‘unusual’?”

  “Most ghosts can’t move anything. Rupert has learned a few tricks, but that’s because he was a professor of occult studies and has spent all of his time trying to figure out how to communicate from beyond the grave. Ghosts are—” she gestured with her hands, trying to find the right word “—ethereal. Insubstantial.” She nodded. Then frowned. “Mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Well, other than Rupert, Grace Perkins is the only ghost I know who could control an object’s movement.” She winced. “She’s the one who hit you in the face with her diary. You pissed her off by reading it.”

  “Officer Pumpkin?” Lucien glanced warily around the room.

  “And because you couldn’t get her name right,” Natalie sighed.

  “She’s the one who told you about the bunker, isn’t she?”

  Natalie nodded. “Yes.”

  He nodded then leaned back in his chair, and she got a good look at his naked torso, the smooth skin rippling over a washboard stomach. Her mouth dried. She forced herself to remember—this is Lucien. The guy who used to read her bedtime stories, who sat with her teddy bears and played tea parties, who wasn’t there for her when she needed him—like he’d promised—and who’d later threatened Ned Henderson and everyone else she cared for. She shouldn’t be noticing how his pecs dance when he gestured with his arms or how temptingly low his pants rode. Geez. She must be in shock from the mountain. Shock made you lose all sense of rationality and self-respect, right? Shock could make you horny...?

  “What happened at the bunker?” he asked her quietly.

  Oh, wow. Way to kill the mood. She rose from her seat, rubb
ing her arms briskly. She couldn’t get warm, damn it. She felt so chilled. Shocked. “It was horrible,” she whispered.

  Almost immediately she felt warmth at her back. Lucien’s arms enveloped her, pulling her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, as though trying to share his warmth. It stirred a heat within her, something that was at once comforting and comfortable but also stimulating, as though her senses were finally awakening after a prolonged slumber.

  “I was really worried about you,” he said, his voice husky. “I didn’t know what was going on...”

  She swallowed, staring at the black-and-white artwork on the wall. Her arm muscles clenched as she remembered the corridor, those dark shadows, the pain...

  “Ghosts aren’t supposed to be substantial. Those ghosts—they fed on emotion, I think. Fear and anger—their fear and anger—made them strong.” She thought about the horrific information she’d read in the reports. If even a fraction of that was true, she could see why they were so angry.

  “They tortured them, Lucien,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears as she remembered that teenage boy’s report. “What they did in that bunker to the shadow breeds—it was too cruel. There are a lot of ghosts down there, Lucien. A lot of angry, violent ghosts.” She didn’t like vampires or werewolves, but she’d never considered abuse of the breeds as an appropriate reaction. She would defend herself when necessary, but she wouldn’t actively look for ways to hurt them.

  “They hurt you.” He rubbed her arms and she relaxed under his gentle caress.

  “Yeah, I was taken by surprise. I think something really bad happened down there, Lucien. Worse than the experiments. I’ve only seen human ghosts, but down there, there are vampires, shifters...” She shuddered as she recalled the growl of the bear, the claw ripping into her...that boy with the missing hand. “They are angry, but I sense that they have good reason to be.”

  Her eyes widened and she spun to face him. He jerked his head back to avoid being whipped by her hair.

  “I almost forgot—I think I found something,” she said.

  He gaped at her for a moment then shook his head. “Natalie, you were hurt. You’re done.”

  “No. There might be a flower—”

  “A flower?” Every time he thought he got close to a cure for his sister, there was a setback and another bloodied bunny dangled in front of him to chase. But this time, Natalie had been hurt.

  “Okay, maybe more like a weed, found in the desert. We could—”

  “No, Natalie. No more. Do you have any idea what I was going through outside?” he said to her, his voice low and harsh. His hands rose to grip her shoulders, his lips tightened. “I could hear you screaming inside, Natalie, and I couldn’t get to you. I was stuck outside because of that damn witch barrier spell and, for all I knew, you were dying inside. Do you have any idea what that did to me?” he finished on a pained whisper, his eyes touring her face. “I thought I was losing you, all over again.”

  His hands rose to cup her cheeks as he lowered his mouth to her lips.

  * * *

  Her lips were so soft, so gentle, beneath his, Lucien thought. He heard her gasp and he seized the opportunity, sliding his tongue between her lips. His hands delved into her hair, the strands sliding between his fingers like ribbons of silk.

  He thought he’d lost her again, back there. He’d been paralyzed by fear. Fear for her. It had stirred up so much anger and pain, hearing her cry out, and him not being able to help her. He’d felt trapped in a vortex, reliving that night of his mother’s death. Right now, though, with her safe in his arms, he felt relieved, calmer, stronger than he had in a long time.

  He kissed her, taking his time, his hands tangling in her hair, destroying the remnants of her ponytail as he angled his head to kiss her deeper. Holding her, kissing her, he could convince himself she really was safe, really was okay.

  There was a discrete knock at the door, one that he was fully prepared to ignore, but she started in his arms. Stiffened. He moaned. Damn it. Whoever was on the other side of that door was going to cop hell from him.

  He ended the kiss slowly, pressing gentle kisses against her pouting lips. She wasn’t fighting him off, wasn’t trying to withdraw from him. That encouraged him, but it also confused him. Each time they’d kissed, he’d been injured. This time, though, she wasn’t throwing him across a room, and no ghosts were hurling books at him. No, she’d kissed him back. He raised his head to look at her directly. Her eyes reflected desire warring with confusion, with skepticism. Yeah, he could relate to that.

  The knock sounded again, a little louder, a little firmer. His lips tightened and he let her go. He strode over to the door and peered through the peephole. He felt his shoulder muscles tense. Damn it.

  “You might want to go to your room for this,” he said, turning briefly to glance at Natalie. She stood there in the sunken living area, all beautifully tousled, her lips swollen. God, just looking at her made him hard as a rock.

  Not a reaction he wanted to experience with this particular person at the door, though.

  She folded her arms, frowning. “Are you seriously trying to send me to my room, old man? That’s not going to happen.”

  He sighed. Shrugged. Winced at the slight pull of skin at the bullet graze in his shoulder. “Fine, your choice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

  He opened the door, keeping hold of it as he leaned against the doorjamb, effectively blocking the entrance to the vampire standing on the other side.

  “What do you want, Enzo?”

  Enzo stood there in his dark suit, with his dark hair slicked back, his brown eyes gazing past him into the room. “I’m here for an update for your father.”

  Lucien leaned forward slightly, using his bulk to shield the room from the guardian prime’s gaze. “If there was something to tell, I’d let you know. For the last time, scram.” He started to close the door but Enzo’s fist slammed against the timber.

  “Why were you up at Devil’s Leap?” the guardian asked in a silky tone.

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm. I know for a fact that you didn’t follow us...” He’d taken measures to avoid that very thing, including using Heath to distract Enzo when he was leaving. Realization dawned and his lips pursed. “There’s a tracking device on my car, isn’t there?” God, how could he have been so dense? No wonder Enzo was able to find him everywhere.

  “Tell me what you found—and why Devil’s Leap?”

  Lucien realized Enzo would have only been able to track him to the car park at the bottom of the mountain and wouldn’t know where they’d gone from there. He wouldn’t know about the bunker. He heard Natalie move behind him, sensed her approaching until he could feel her presence behind him. His gaze remained on the guardian, though.

  “Devil’s Leap saw some heavy shadow breeds traffic before The Troubles,” Lucien stated brusquely. If he gave Enzo something, maybe the guardian would leave them alone. “We were just checking the area to see if there was something we could use.”

  “And did you? Find something?”

  Lucien kept his expression neutral. For some reason he wasn’t ready to share anything with this vampire, with his father. Natalie had mentioned some sort of weed, but, really, that could amount to nothing.

  He shook his head as Enzo narrowed his gaze on Natalie and demanded, “What did you find?”

  He heard her contemptuous snort. “I don’t owe you any explanations.” She moved away. “I’m going to bed.”

  “I second that.” Lucien smiled at the guardian and started to close the door.

  Enzo’s eyes flashed red. “If she’s unable to give us anything, she’s outlived her usefulness.”

  Lucien stilled. Natalie halted in the sunken living area and he heard her swift intake of breath. Lucien met the vampire’s eyes wit
h his own determined gaze. “She’s not a loose end to be tied up, Enzo. She’s helping us, and she’s under the protection of the Nightwing Vampire Prime,” he said in a moderate tone.

  Enzo tried to step forward but Lucien blocked him. The guardian glared at him. “If you found something—if she knows anything—we have to protect that information.”

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever happens, at the end of this, Natalie will be free to return to her life, untroubled by any of us,” he told the guardian. “I don’t know what my father expects, but that will be the reality.”

  “We are talking about a cure for a lycan’s bite,” Enzo said in a low voice. “How do you see that working? If it’s not kept secret, everyone will want it. The other vampire colonies will fight us for it. The lycans will fight to destroy it. The witches and humans will want to destroy it, too. We have to protect it.”

  “What are you implying, Enzo?”

  “If anyone else finds out what you may have found, or be close to finding, they will try to take that cure off you, or prevent you from finding it altogether. We can’t let that information get out. If she has nothing to offer, she needs to be silenced.”

  Lucien ignored the sound Natalie’s machete made as she drew it from her sheath. He shook his head in disbelief. “Has this been my father’s plan all along? If that was the case, I’ve spoken to many people about this search for the cure. Is he going to kill them, too?”

  Enzo shot him a deadpan glance and Lucien’s shoulders sagged as realization hit. “He’s already done it, hasn’t he?” Horror filled him at the implications. “My father has killed people whose only crime is that they spoke with me.” He shook his head. “That’s barbaric.”

  Enzo shrugged. “Your father can’t be blamed if those people met with accidents...”

  “It’s wrong,” he responded, aghast his father would operate in such a way. And now they wanted to “silence” Natalie? For helping them? No, damn it.