The Immortal’s Salvation: Bloodwite Book Two

by Mecca, Cecelia

  An unreasonable reaction, she knew, but she was too wrapped up in the moment to care.

  “I dare because I see myself in you.” His voice lowered, becoming huskier and more intense. “I am you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How could you possibly—”

  “I know about your parents. And I know you think it was your fault.”

  His words cut her to the quick. It was as if he’d split her open and read her soul. When words finally came to her, they were defensive, biting. “You take me away from my friends, who were trying to make me forget about Tyler—”

  “You’ve already forgotten about him, and you feel guilty for that too.”

  Oh. My God. Was he serious?

  “Or should have, at least,” he clarified, making the offending statement marginally better, but still . . . “I’m sorry. This isn’t a conversation we should be having right now—”

  “Oh no,” she snapped. “You started it, and you will finish it.”

  Toni felt like her chest was going to explode.

  Lawrence at least had the decency to look chagrined.

  “You blame yourself for your parents’ death,” he forged ahead, “and I blame myself for getting my brother killed. I get it, Toni. More than you can ever imagine.”

  Not wanting to think of the crash, of that night, she focused on what he’d said about his brother.

  “But your brother died in battle—”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Lawrence didn’t elaborate. Thinking back quickly, Toni tried to remember what Alessandra had said about Kenton and Lawrence, and why they’d hated each other for so many years. By her account, it had all begun when Alec, Lawrence’s older brother, had died in battle, something the Derricksons blamed on Kenton’s family. The feud had kicked up a notch when the English earl, Kenton’s father, refused to pay bloodwite for his death.

  “But—”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. About Alec. Or your parents.” He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. She could practically feel him withdrawing. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you back to your friends—”

  “Wait.” This time it was she who stopped them. “Tell me.”

  Something told her that if she walked away from him now, he might never open up to her again . . . and she didn’t want that.

  “There’s nothing to tell. Come on—”

  “Lawrence.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago—”

  “Clearly,” she said, smiling despite her temper. “Given the circumstances.”

  Cocking his head to the side as if evaluating her again, he said, “It happened after the battle. I should have been with him, but we thought the worst was over. A truce had been called . . .”

  Lawrence closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before opening them again. When he looked at her, his expression was so raw she almost didn’t want to hear the rest, despite the fact that she’d pressed him.

  “I left him unprotected—”

  “But he was your older brother. Wasn’t it his job to protect you?”

  Lawrence shook his head. “My brother was second to the chief. My place was by his side.”

  Maybe it was all the medieval jargon, but she didn’t understand. “But—”

  “It was a long time ago,” he repeated. But she could tell that didn’t matter. And he was right, they did have something in common.

  For her, that phone call could have occurred just yesterday . . .

  “Come on.” This time, he didn’t give her a chance to protest. Taking her hand, Lawrence led her from the entrance of the alley back onto Main Street.

  Which was exactly how Tyler found them.

  Hands clasped, emerging from the shadows like two lovers.

  And then Tyler swung.

  Chapter 6

  Back when they were first turned, the Derricksons had killed indiscriminately for weeks. Lawrence wasn’t proud of that fact, but the bloodlust had overpowered them. It was only after his sister-in-law began to understand the ramifications of her curse that they found alternative means for their bloodlust.

  Animals. Deer mostly. It wasn’t the same, but it satisfied the worst of their hunger. And then, when they discovered they could feed on humans without killing them, without giving themselves away, he and his family had made a pact. They would only kill any errant, dangerous vampires or Cheld who crossed their paths.

  Tyler Hayes came close to making him break that pact.

  It wasn’t the punch that set him off—a fledgling vampire could do more damage to him with a tap—it was the epithet the bastard directed at Toni. Lawrence saw red. He dragged Tyler back into the alley and held him against the red brick building.

  By his throat.

  He heard Toni’s shouting behind him, but that wasn’t the reason he finally let go. Lawrence was a monster, yes, but that didn’t mean he needed to act like one. His white-hot rage faded quickly to pure anger, and when it did, he let Tyler drop to the ground.

  * * *

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Laria asked from behind him.

  A fair question. One he’d asked himself a time or two since Toni had walked away from him that afternoon.

  Lawrence straightened his black tie in the hallway mirror of the Addy Hutton Mansion, letting it fall against the crisp white shirt underneath. “A tie and suspenders,” the owner of Amendment 18 had said when he was hired. Lawrence could appreciate the Prohibition-era style, having lived through that era himself. He and Torr had tracked down a Cheld in Nashville in the mid-1920s. They’d arrived just in time to offer protection for the man’s entire family—and they’d stayed to have some fun.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted. Despite his foul mood, Lawrence smiled at her in the mirror. “You never did make it to Nashville, did you?”

  Laria made a face behind him in the mirror.

  “Nashville?”

  “Remember Torr and I spent a few months there a century or so ago?”

  “Oh, I certainly do. No, I never had the pleasure of being arrested for bootlegging—”

  “By the Bureau themselves,” he boasted. He and Torr had managed to ensconce themselves in one of the largest rum-running enterprises in the nation.

  “Do you miss him?”

  As he turned toward her, he saw a flash of the woman she’d been—her hair pulled away from her face in braids, her long hunter green gown trimmed in gold. She’d been beautiful in her innocence, just twenty-eight years old when the curse struck, the clan’s princess, even if such a thing didn’t exist. Everyone had loved Lady Laria, the chief’s daughter, whose countenance was as endearing as her name.

  “At times,” he said of his brother, pulling himself out of a reverie that would only sadden him. They’d long since ceased to be the humans they had been. “But someone has to keep Rowan in check.”

  Laria pursed her lips at the reminder. They all knew the danger Rowan posed. Although Kenton had forsaken his mission to kill the Cheld, his brothers had not. Of the two, Rowan was the more dangerous. Torr was watching him, following in his footsteps, but they all knew it was only a matter of time before Rowan returned to Stone Haven. He knew about Alessandra, and Lawrence suspected that not even his brotherly bond with Kenton would keep him from trying to kill her.

  “Yes, and he likes it,” Laria said. “If he didn’t need to keep Rowan at bay, Torr would grow bored.”

  Which was true. The idea of remaining in a small town like Stone Haven for more than a week or two would drive his pleasure-seeking brother mad.

  “I have to get to work—”

  “Wait.” Laria reached out and grabbed his arm. “We need to talk about what happened today—”

  “Nothing happened today.” He shrugged. “Tyler acted like an asshole. I course-corrected him. Toni went back to partying with her friends. And that’s it. End of story.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And if he does it again, I will kill him.”r />
  He was only partially joking.

  Her mouth lifted at the corners. “So maybe tell me what you were doing with Toni that made—”

  “I don’t have time for gossip,” he said a bit harshly. Turning from his sister, Lawrence made his way downstairs.

  “Call it what you will, Lawrence,” she called after him. “But we will talk about this later.”

  Grabbing his wallet and phone from the table in the foyer, he yelled back, “Can’t wait,” and left. There was something to be said about an empty home. Had he really wished for a bit of company just a few days ago? He took it back. The mansion was large and quite empty with just him in it, but at least the silence hadn’t required him to share his feelings.

  By now, he assumed Toni and her friends had long since gone home. It was too late to find her. Too late to apologize.

  Confronting her had been a mistake, but Kenton’s text last night had unleashed something inside of him—like a dam being opened. It was as if every reason why he and Toni shouldn’t be together had been obliterated in one fell swoop.

  Except life was more complicated than that, something he of all people should know by now.

  Lawrence arrived at the building for Amendment 18, a two-story structure with a false bar on the ground floor that attracted the occasional locals, and let himself in through the back before climbing to the second floor. The owner had already opened the place up, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  The barback had thankfully been prepped. He checked the jalapeno and ginger syrup and frowned when he spotted the citrus peels. The twists were supposed to be cut fresh. Jeff would fire the poor kid if he saw them. Hiding the evidence, Lawrence prepared for a long night. Unlike most other businesses in Stone Haven, Amendment 18 didn’t cater to tourists. In fact, few knew of its existence. The owner had done a good job transforming it into a true Prohibition-era throwback, complete with glass-topped cocktail tables, red lanterns, and a wall of skulls.

  The rules of the house were simple: No beer. No wine. No cell phones. If a patron tips poorly, they’re banned.

  When he’d come in for his interview, he and Jeff had laughed about that over a couple of drinks Lawrence had made freestyle. Jeff had hired him on the spot, not surprising given his centuries-old knowledge of cocktails.

  This was his sanctuary—and as the place began to fill up, he welcomed the distraction. He needed some space from the woman with a unique ability to arouse a part of him he’d thought long since buried. Concentrating on the French 75 he was making, Lawrence put thoughts of the beautiful redhead from his mind.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m pretty sure we should go home,” Alessandra said.

  They’d started the day early, a Sunday Funday for the books. Only three of them remained, the Hardcore Hellions, they’d named themselves. But they had taken a break, eaten dinner and drunk enough water to warrant more trips to the bathroom than Toni cared to contemplate.

  “I’m pretty sure we should stay out,” she sang out.

  She didn’t want to be alone just yet. Besides, she wasn’t all that tired—she hadn’t had much to drink after the incident with Lawrence and Tyler.

  “In that case,” Charlotte said. “We stay out.”

  “I’ve always liked you,” Toni said.

  “But not when we first met,” Charlotte said as they walked aimlessly up the darkening Main Street.

  “Not true,” she protested, knowing full well it was a lie.

  In truth, she’d thought the South Carolina native a tad on the snobby side the first time Alessandra had brought her to Murphy’s. She’d been dressed to the nines, despite the fact that they were in an Irish pub, and she hadn’t talked much. It wasn’t that Charlotte was quiet. At least, not once you got to know her. But she also wasn’t the most vocal in the crowd, preferring to watch and listen. Those quiet types always made her nervous, and so at first, she’d not warmed up to Alessandra’s friend.

  But that had not lasted long.

  The girl was a walking contradiction. She had an angelic smile, complete with dimples, but anyone who crossed one of her friends would bear the marks of her sharp claws. The vitriol she’d aimed at Tyler since last night was marvelous to behold.

  “Luckily, I don’t hold a grudge,” Charlotte said sweetly.

  They all burst out laughing.

  “Tatiana Lee is singing at Amendment 18,” Charlotte suggested. “I just adore French gypsy jazz—”

  “Uh, no.”

  Alessandra got the words out before Toni could. “Lawrence,” she reminded Charlotte in an undertone that probably wasn’t as quiet as she’d intended.

  “Oh.”

  “Besides, what the hell is French Gypsy jazz?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I have no idea. I just saw it on a flyer in The Witch’s Brew.”

  “You know . . . ,” Alessandra said in a way that immediately put Toni on the defensive.

  “Absolutely not.” And yet, she found herself trailing after them as they walked toward the very place she’d claimed she didn’t want to go.

  “Why?” Charlotte was a fan of getting straight to the point. “The man did defend your honor.”

  And he had. When Tyler had acted like an utter ass, insinuating all sorts of bad things about her character as he jumped to the assumption that she’d moved on already, with Lawrence, her ex found himself up against a building so quickly Toni feared the others may grow suspicious. She’d seen Kenton and Lawrence, and now Alessandra, move like that before, but typically it was in private. But no one seemed to think anything amiss, other than the threats Lawrence made, which no one took as idle chatter. Though part of her had been scared at the sheer power he displayed, she’d be a complete liar not to admit it had been a bit of a turn-on as well.

  No one would mess with Lawrence Derrickson, certainly not Tyler freakin’ Hayes.

  Why don’t I want to see him? Because I can’t handle my feelings for Lawrence right now. Because I’m worried I’ll jump over the bar and tackle him. Because . . .

  “Because . . . I don’t like craft cocktails.” She ignored the girls’ smiles. “I don’t! Give me a plain old glass of red any day.”

  “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.” When Alessandra turned off Main Street, they followed. “He’s stuck behind the bar.”

  “Mhmmm. Says the girl who has been trying to hook me up with him since day one.”

  “I haven’t!” Alessandra protested, only to break into laughter the next moment. “At least, not the whole time. I gave up on that scheme long ago.”

  Except clearly she hadn’t. Because they now stood in the alleyway beneath Amendment 18. The time to object had run out—Charlotte was already knocking on an unmarked door. When it opened and she gave the password, Toni found herself following the two traitors to another closed door at the back of the small bar. Another password and they were heading upstairs, where the music had apparently already begun playing.

  And it was French, all right.

  It almost sounded like a live band, but when they stepped through the doors, a lone woman sang to the accompaniment of a taped saxophone. Jazz, definitely. But with a twist that was not altogether unpleasant.

  She’d seen Lawrence before in his tie and suspenders. But Tyler had always been with her before, which meant she’d had to suppress her fantasy of sliding those suspenders off Lawrence’s shoulders. Although she knew the outfit was just a gimmick that went along with the bar’s theme, it suited him to a T. It also reminded her that he had been alive during Prohibition, and much, much longer . . .

  He didn’t see her.

  Alessandra and Charlotte stopped to talk to the owner of the bar, who hardly ever came out of his office.

  Of course, her attention was fixed on Lawrence, who was using both hands to make Lord knows how many drinks at once. He was a skilled bartender.

  What else could those hands do?

  Holy sweet Jesus. He’d noticed her, and she was pretty
sure if he continued to stare at her like that she’d orgasm right here where she stood.

  So much for subtlety.

  Something vital had shifted between them, and she wasn’t the only one to notice. Alessandra had stopped talking to Jeff and was now watching her.

  “What?” she whispered, looking away.

  “Oh, you know what,” her friend said, nodding toward the bar.

  Lawrence had gone back to making drinks as if that hadn’t happened. But it had. In that one look, he’d told her everything.

  Toni just wasn’t quite ready for it.

  “Let’s get some drinks,” Charlotte said in a singsong voice. She’d pulled away, too, and was watching Toni as if she were an interesting specimen.

  Sure. Why not jump straight into the fire?

  “Hey there,” Alessandra said to Lawrence as they sidled up to the solid oak bar.

  His smile lit him up from within, so different from Tyler’s easy charm. His whole demeanor spoke of genuine pleasure and companionship.

  She was desperate for him to look at her like that, but when he turned to her, the wattage of his smile faded just a little. His green eyes grabbed her, even more intense than they’d been from across the room. She didn’t care how many questions she’d have to answer from Alessandra later. She simply could not look away.

  “Dealer’s choice?” he asked her.

  She swallowed, coward that she was, and nodded.

  His hands moved so fast, she could barely keep up with the number of liquids he mixed together. Somehow Lawrence managed to make three drinks at once, though all were completely different. He knew what they liked since she and her friends had been here plenty of times before while he tended bar.

  But tonight was different.

  “I thought you ladies would have gone home by now.”

  He said it to no one in particular, his attention still on the drinks he made, but Charlotte answered.

  “We’re the last holdouts,” she said. “And not doing too badly, if I do say so myself.”

  “I would agree,” he said, darting a glance at Toni. “In fact, I think you’re doing quite well.”