by Liliana Hart
No doubt I looked scary to her. I swiped away the blood and I wiped it off on my pants. “No I’m not. See? It’s just a scratch. Come on.”
She hesitantly inched her way closer. In the distance, a group of people were racing our way unnaturally fast. It became clear we didn’t have time for her to build up the nerve to jump. I grabbed her ankle and yanked her down. It hurt. I could tell by her wince and cry, but I didn’t stop to say sorry. I slung her over my shoulder fireman style and ran. I tossed her into the car, jumped in and forced the pile of rusted parts to move faster than it had ever moved before. We spun out of the area and rolled down the street at a scared rabbit’s pace.
Anara glanced back, her arms tense against the car’s frame visibly concerned she might be thrown from the vehicle any second. Her lips were moving, but no sound came from her mouth.
After the next couple of turns, I was confident we’d lost our pursuers. The girls, whimpering and shivering from the encounter, were huddled in the back seat, and I whispered to Anara, “You can relax. We’re not being followed.”
She licked her lips and dropped her arms. “I’ve never been in one of these.”
Few in America ever got to see the beginnings of the Mini Cooper craze. It wasn’t pretty. At least my brother’s specimen wasn’t. “It’s claustrophobic, that’s for sure. I don’t know what my brother sees in this car, but he loves it.”
She didn’t relax until I pulled to a stop in front of the house.
I urged everyone out and hustled them inside. With the door shut and locked, I faced them. “What happened?”
“The lights went out,” Anara said, and Sage jumped in to finish, “and Baby started crying.”
The littlest girl stood with her head bent and her hands twisting the old fabric over her stomach. “I’m sorry.”
I stooped and tipped her chin up. “It’s not your fault. Are you tired?”
When she nodded her head, I picked her up and grabbed Sage’s hand, then glanced at Anara. She suddenly bent and began unbuckling her muddy leather boots. “Don’t you want to help put them to bed?”
She threw me a frown and returned to unbuckling her boots. I took that as a no and led the girls up the stairs.
“Do you share your room?” Baby asked, her head nestled on my shoulder and her finger flicking at my earlobe. “I always have to share.”
“No.” The floorboards creaked under my feet as I turned and pointed Sage right at the top of the stairs. We headed toward my room at the end of the hall. “My brother has his own room, but you still have to share my bed with your sister.”
“I guess that’s okay. I bet your room is blue, with lots of pillows and pictures of all sorts of pretty girls. Girls give you their picture when they like you. Kiki Truny said so, and she’d know. She’s twelve. I don’t have a picture to give you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you, ‘cause I do.” She turned to her sister excitedly. “Sage, it’s blue. I know it is.”
We stopped at the last door across the hall from the bathroom. My knees bent, and with the hand that held Baby, I managed to open the door to reveal white walls, no pictures—not even one of my old dog and I loved that dog—and the unimaginative color palette of gray tones that covered my king-sized bed. “Ta-da!”
Baby wrinkled her nose. “This is it? It’s not pretty at all.”
“I’m a guy.” I ushered Sage inside before us. “We don’t do pretty.”
I placed Baby on the bed at the same time Sage flopped onto the mattress. She kicked off her shoes and said, “Don’t listen to her. It’s perfect.”
As Sage helped Baby take off her shoes, I closed the door to my walk-in closet. “Listen up,” I said using a stern voice and turned to find twin sets of blue eyes looking at me. “This closet is a no go. Totally, completely and unequivocally off limits. Understand?” It housed not only my clothes, but an assortment of weapons that could cause more than a small disaster if they got into them.
“Got it.” Sage yawned, tossed Baby’s muddy shoes on the floor and flopped back onto the bed. Baby rolled over to her sister and snuggled close. Her dirty little hand stroked Sage’s equally dirty hair. “Are you still mad at me?”
Sage stared at the ceiling for a moment, then relented and put her arm around her sister. “No. I’m too tired to be mad.” She kissed Baby’s forehead and snuggled her closer. “You got to promise me you’ll get tougher, Baby.”
“I will.” Baby placed her hand on Sage’s cheek. “I won’t be scared of the dark anymore. I promise.”
“Good, now go to sleep.”
They were out before I even backed out of the room. I eased the door closed and put my hand on the white painted surface. Baby’s promise sat hard on my heart. How could she ever do what I couldn’t? Because the more time I spent in the dark, the more scared I became, and I was an adult. That actually wasn’t true. I respected the dark. I knew what it hid and the dangers that lurked. And I knew, without a doubt, one day it would see the end of me.
This was crazy. I was supposed to be herding vamps toward the Opera House and my brother, not tucking scruffy little girls into bed. This house wasn’t suited for kids. It had hard-ass male written all over it. I shot a glance down the hall to see Anara standing at the top of the stairs, her torso enclosed in armor, her legs wrapped in leather and her feet bare, toes scrunching against the cool wood of the floorboards.
She looked out of place, like she’d walked through a rip in time and didn’t know what to make of the future. God help me, even in all her awkwardness, she was gorgeous. I started down the hall.
Leaving me to tuck the girls in, I had to wonder if Anara was mad at Baby. When I reached her, I asked, “Do you blame Baby for tonight? She’s little. I’m pretty sure it’s natural for kids her age to be scared of the dark.”
Sympathy slid behind her eyes. “I used to be scared too.” Her jaw tightened. “Now the dark is afraid of me.”
All of us had to make that transition when we were younger, except with Anara, the transition had yielded deadly results. When in fight mode, she was nearly unstoppable.
“I questioned one of them. Their mistress wants the girls for their innocent blood. It will give her more power.”
“I kinda thought so. At least we know for sure now.”
Her gaze softened and landed on the side of my head. “You’re hurt.”
I cleared my throat and tried for the manly approach, twisting away so she couldn’t look at the mess. “Yeah, it’s just a scratch really.”
She tilted her head for a better view and frowned. “For a scratch, it’s bleeding quite profusely.”
“I’m a bleeder. That’s why the vamps love me so much. I tease them with my free flowing A-positive.” She made to touch my head, and she winced when her arm went up. I called her on it. “You’re hurt, too. Don’t deny it.”
Her lips twitched and she threw my words back at me. “It’s just a scratch.”
How on earth would she know it was just a scratch with all that armor she wore? “Let me take a look.” I touched her arm and she flinched, her eyes rounding as she stared at my hand on her arm. She could go all hissy on me if she wanted. It wouldn’t change what we needed to do. I steered her toward the bathroom. “Come on. I have an idea. You patch me up. I patch you up.”
“I’ll help you, but there really is no need on my account. I should be—”
She was not leaving. Not until I had some answers. “And while I’m patching you up, you can start talking. A promise is a promise…” I angled my head close to hers. “You do keep your promises, right?”
“Of course I do. My word is the only thing of real value I have.”
I pulled away and as I did, I let my hand slide down her arm. She had more value than that. At least to me she did. Without her, I would have been dead a few times over.
Her skin was smooth and crazy soft beneath my hand. Her eyes widened at my caress and a quick shiver ran through her. Not a shiver of revulsion, but one that told me she liked me more
than she was letting on. I gave her one of my I-like-you-too grins, slipped her fingers in mine and gently tugged her into the small bathroom. She looked around, unsure of herself. She radiated nervousness. Cornering her wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, but I’d do anything to crack through her defenses. I wanted answers…and I was still bleeding. I’m all about getting a two for one. With a quick yank, my shirt came off and I balled it up before pressing it to my bleeding head.
“That isn’t sanitary,” she whispered and quickly looked away.
I guess grimy shirt on open wound wasn’t the smartest idea. “Right. Sorry.”
I tossed my shirt to the floor and reached behind her to turn on the water. She quickly glanced the other way. Why wouldn’t she look at me? I took a quick peek at my bare chest in the mirror. My daily bouts with evil had kept my body lean and strong. Nothing wrong there. It must be her. Who’d believe a girl who looked like her was shy? I plugged the sink and when the basin was full, I handed her a washcloth and got down to playing twenty questions. “How long have you been in Boston?”
She soaked the cloth and peeked over at me. Her eyes held an innocence I hadn’t expected. She timidly touched my jaw, tilting my face to dab at my cut. “May I ask you a question?”
I tried not to wince, but failed. I covered my unmanliness with a winning smile. “Lucky for you I’m an open book.”
“Who lives here?”
“Me and my brother.”
“You live with family? That’s good.” Her shoulders loosened, revealing how tense she’d been. “But what about the third bedroom? It’s a woman’s.”
Someone had snooped while I was putting the girls to bed. I guess I couldn’t blame her. I technically was a stranger even though I’d saved her life. “Mom’s room. She died a few years back.”
“I lost my mother. My father and brothers too. Everyone I loved gone in a moment.”
“Car crash?”
“Murdered.”
Vamps. It had to be. Wasn’t that why Beau and I were in the slaying business? Once you see someone you loved murdered for no reason, it changes you. The hurt in her eyes reflected my own. Without Beau I would have been lost. How much worse for her, the lone survivor?
The cloth dabbed at my wound while her free hand caressed my cheek. I held my breath as she drew her fingers along my jaw and down my throat to rest on my chest. Watching her hand on my skin, a fascinated look shone from her eyes. The caress was totally unexpected. I covered her wandering fingers with mine and pressed them still.
Her pale blue gaze snapped to mine. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I haven’t—”
She pressed her lips together and looked away. Did she think I didn’t want her to touch me? I’ve never wanted a woman to touch me more. If only that cold steel didn’t still cover her from chin to waist…
Before I could rouse myself to say anything, she pulled her hand free from under mine and dunked the washcloth in the water. “Your mother…she must have been very proud to have you as a son.”
My tongue flicked over my suddenly dry lips, and I swallowed hard. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve been watching you.” Though she dabbed at the cut, it no longer hurt. All I could feel was her nearness and it was driving me crazy. She stopped and looked me straight in the eyes. “You’re not like other men. You’re a talented warrior. Very impressive, actually.”
For a moment, we just stared into each other’s eyes until I croaked out, “You have no idea how many of my talents my mom didn’t appreciate…or find appropriate.”
Her gaze lifted to my wound. “The bleeding has stopped.”
I took the washcloth from her and set it on the counter by the sink.
“Good. I need to clean your wound now.”
She bit her lip and gave him a reluctant nod. “Very well.”
I stepped closer, so close I could feel her warm breath on my shoulder. I skimmed my fingers along the bottom edge of her armor. When I got to the spot above her left hip, I stopped and moved my hand to the warm leather, and I instinctively squeezed. The intimate touch caused her an unsettled blink. Giving her a reassuring smile, I unclipped the scabbard and eased it free. My body skimmed hers as I leaned past her to place the weapon against the wall.
When I straightened, the vein on the side of her neck throbbed heavily. Her pupils grew larger when her eyes met mine. “What are you doing?”
I’d conquered the art of smiling innocently when I was anything but innocent years ago. “Disarming you. You’re bleeding and I can’t help if you have all this on.”
A soft “oh” slipped past her lips.
“What’s this called?” I asked as I unlatched the metal encasing her hips.
“A tusset. It protects my hips.”
I placed it by her sword. “Interesting. I know this is a breastplate,” I said and nudged her arm up to reveal four buckles holding together the beautifully etched metal. Underneath, attached to the metal, butter soft leather fit her torso like a second skin. Although it didn’t seem possible, the vamp’s sword must have slipped its way between the hard plates that made up her armor and her leather waistband. A smear of blood along the lower portion of her armor was the only indication she was hurt.
I settled her arm on my shoulder, exposing the row of buckles. I couldn’t help wondering what she wore under the armor. Anticipation made me as giddy as a hormone-raging teenager. It was torture to go slowly, and my heart raced as I unlatched the first one. “Who helps you get into this?”
“No one. Angels and saints watch me, but no one can help me.”
“I’m no angel or saint. Good thing I’m here to help you get out of this.” My fingers slipped underneath the metal-plated leather. A silky piece of clothing met my touch, and I made my way to the next clasp. A deep inhale and staggered exhale from her was my reward. With a gentle tug, the buckle’s soft leather tongue slipped free. “I’m thinking you’re some kind of contortionist to latch all these so tight.” The armor loosened and she took an even deeper breath. I edged closer and whispered in her ear, “You have talent.”
A sweet blush touched her cheeks, and I smiled, knowing I was the cause of it. Try as she might, she was having a difficult time staying detached. She twisted her neck until she could see what I was doing. “Dressing oneself doesn’t reveal talent when it’s a basic daily necessity. Even a child of three can dress himself.”
Putting on a pair of pants and a t-shirt that don’t match, yes, but wiggling into a metal vest? I found the whole idea strangely sexy. I studied her face. I’d never seen someone so beautiful, yet so unaware of that beauty. Did she really not know what she was doing to me, just standing there? I cleared my throat. “I guess practice makes perfect.”
Her eyes were locked onto my hands. I skimmed the silkiness of her shirt beneath her armor as I moved lower. “Where do you live?”
When she didn’t immediately answer, I looked up. The pulse at the base of her throat had quickened. “Do you know where Trinity Church is?”
I paused in unlatching the third buckle and looked into her eyes. They were clear and bright with an exotic curve to them that made me want to stare all day. “I’m not aware of any homes by the church.”
She wet her lips. “My home is.”
I released the buckle and moved to the last one. Slipping it free, the armor dropped away revealing a silky, white, lace-edged shirt and nothing else. It revealed, yet hid so much, I couldn’t help not staring. When I noticed a long, sharp cut through the fabric starting at her hip and ending deeper near her lowest rib, I instantly sobered. The whole of it was crusted with blood. She hadn’t said a word about it. Brave and tough. The more I uncovered about her, the more I liked about her.
I gingerly touched the area. “That’s one mean sword jab.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Her admission made me frown. The thought of any vamp hurting her made my gut tighten. What the hell did she think she was doing running around dressed like a character from
World of Dark Magic? Fighting vamps wasn’t a video game. When the bad guys shoved a sword at you, death usually followed. No rebooting. No magical energy healing. No second chances allowed.
I had to wonder…though Beau implied otherwise, she seemed human to me. She bled like a human, she felt like a human, and definitely responded like a woman.
I started to lift her lacy top by the hem to expose part of the area, and she bit her lip, wincing as the dried blood pulled on her skin and reopened the wound.
My gaze darted to hers. “Sorry.”
I plunged the washcloth into the warm water and brought it to her wound, loosening the rest of the blood adhering the fabric to her skin. We stood face to face, my left hand riding her hip and my right plastered to her midsection. We were only inches apart. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was a complete stranger. Everything about her was unique, yet something about her stirred my memory. I couldn’t place it. Her gaze lifted to mine and then quickly dropped. Her breathing skipped within her chest, and she ducked her head, causing her long hair to slip around her shoulder and rest against the back of my hand at her hip.
I made her nervous. Good. She did the same to me. My fingers tightened on her hip. Her body heat seeped through the leather she wore and warmed my hand. I was actually sweating. The feel of her curves made me want to pull her closer. I swallowed and said past the tightness in my throat, “What do you do during the day? You know, before you go all Viking warrior princess?”
She lifted her head, her full lips tipping at the corners like she held a secret. “I’m not a princess. I’m far too imperfect for that title.”
“If you say so.” I let my doubt sound in my voice. She seemed pretty damn perfect to me.
“I’m not.” Her gaze rose and locked with mine. “Faults I have aplenty.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Even my perfect brother had been known to confess to an odd mistake every now and then. Without thinking about what I was doing, I slipped my free hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer. My fingers played with the ends of her hair, and she didn’t resist. Her hand slid to my shoulder and her gaze dropped to watch her fingers sweep along my skin. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel.
