Oh, honey . . .
Nessa stilled at the sound of Morgan’s voice. It was unwelcome, but more . . . it was surprising. There was a note of . . . well, Nessa couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It almost sounded like she cared.
“I did care, you old bitch,” Morgan snarled, her voice an angry roar in Nessa’s head. “She was my sister.”
“What’s her name?”
“What in the hell do you care?”
From the corner of her eye, she saw the mother on the porch, watched as she took a step down. Aggravated, Nessa spoke silently to Morgan. “Look, you insolent, arrogant, foolish little bitch, I asked you a damn question, and unless you just want me to kill them both, you’re going to give me an answer.”
There was a hesitation. Then, angrily, Morgan said, “Her name is Jasmine. I used to call her Jazzy.”
Finally.
The mother was still moving closer. Nessa ignored her, focusing on the girl. Judging by the look in the girl’s eyes, she wanted to believe that Nessa was her long-lost sister—no matter what her mom said.
Fine enough. If it would keep the girl safe for a bit, Nessa would act like her sister, then.
“Is it true?” Jazzy asked, her voice breaking. “Is my sister really dead?”
When Nessa spoke, it was with no trace of an accent. “Come on, Jazzy. Do I look dead to you? She’s just messing with your head.” Slanting a look at the woman on the porch, she added, “That bitch’s favorite pastime is to mess with people’s heads, after all.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The older woman threw down her cigarette and snarled at Jazzy. “She’s a fucking liar. You think she’d honestly tell you if she’d killed your sister? Why would she do that? Hell, if that really was Morgan, do you really think she’d come back here? Why in the hell would she?”
Confused, Jazzy looked from one face to the other. Can’t lay it on too thick, Nessa suspected. It seemed Morgan had cared for her sister some, but if Nessa laid on the protective sibling bit too much . . . well, it probably wouldn’t ring true.
She didn’t know the woman, but somehow, Morgan’s mother struck her as the greedy sort—she might not love her daughters, but she wouldn’t want to share them, either.
Focusing her thoughts, she projected them toward Morgan. “Did you ever tell her you’d come back for her?”
For a few seconds, it seemed as though Morgan wouldn’t answer, and then finally, there was a reluctant assent.
“I’m here for you, Jazzy. I told you I’d come back, didn’t I? She didn’t want me coming back for you, did she?” Nessa said.
“Lying cunt,” the woman snarled. Her voice was thick with hate, with anger.
Jazzy’s eyes were wide . . . almost glowing . . . hopeful. “Morgan?”
“Come on now, Jazzy. You go on inside and let me talk to Mommy Dearest, okay?” Nessa gave the kid a reassuring smile.
“Don’t even think about it, Jasmine.” The mother’s blue eyes narrowed as she spoke.
Heavens, she stank. Reeked with the same foul magics Morgan had practiced.
“Jazzy, go inside.”
“You don’t get to order my kid around,” she drawled, lifting a cigarette to her lips and taking a deep, hard drag. It was hand-rolled and judging by the pungent scent in the air, there was more than just tobacco in it.
Nessa gave the woman a hard smile. “Jazzy, go to your room. Now.”
The mother glanced at Jazzy and said in an offhand voice, “If you move one inch, Jasmine, I’m going to beat the shit out of you when I’m done here.”
“No, she won’t.” She had, though. Nessa could see the fear bloom in the girl’s eyes and she knew, as surely as she knew her own name, this woman had beaten the girl. One of many sins, she supposed. “She’s not going to touch you, Jazzy. Not again. I told you I’d come back, told you I’d take care of you. That’s what I’m going to do.”
Jazzy darted into the house.
Dimly, she heard Morgan’s voice. Heard it jeering her on. She tucked her hands in her pockets as the other woman shot an ugly, hate-filled gaze at her.
“Well, then.” She smiled at the older woman as the door slammed shut behind Jazzy. Not bothering to hide her accent, Nessa cocked her head and said, “Let’s get this started, shall we?”
Nessa was covered in blood and half of it was hers.
She ached from head to toe and her head . . . oh, her head.
Staggering, she shoved upright and glared at Isis. “You know how this ends,” she snarled.
“Yeah, with me killing you. I’ll get a good charge from your blood,” Isis said, but her voice shook as she said it.
“You’d choke on me.” Nessa swiped a bloodied hand over her eyes. From the corner of her eye, she saw a blond head. Swore hotly.
The girl.
Isis took advantage of her distracted state and attacked. The energy bolt sent Nessa flying. Even as she crashed to the busted-up pavement, Nessa sent an energy bolt of her own hurtling back.
Isis screamed, but Nessa barely registered the sound as her head smacked against the ground with enough force to set her brain rattling.
It took a few minutes for her head to clear, and a few more to realize that Isis had taken off.
Ran away, the malicious cow.
Now I’ll have to run her down again.
Damn it.
Exhaustion, heavy and cold, hit her, square in the chest.
Gray dots swarmed in on her vision and Nessa lay there, staring up at the night sky.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want this life.”
Tears burned their way out of her eyes to trickle down her cheeks, mingling with the blood.
“I don’t want to remember this life.”
The gray dots merged together, forming a huge, enveloping gray cloud that came up and swallowed her whole.
CHAPTER 6
IT was too fucking early for him to be up and moving. Rafe had literally forced Dominic out of the bed, using the bond between them and giving Dominic a command he’d been physically forced to obey. The sun was hours away from setting—fucking hours. The sun wasn’t even kissing the horizon. In a foul mood, he trudged around his room, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. Rafe’s Master strength might be enough to have Dominic out of bed, but it wasn’t enough to wake his mind up. Everything was foggy and surreal. Even the scalding hot shower didn’t help.
As he shuffled out of the bathroom, there was a knock at his bedroom door. He sniffed and scowled as he recognized the scent. It was Lindsey Sue Whittaker, a relatively new addition to the Memphis enclave.
If he knew Rafe, he had no doubts about why she was here.
Snagging a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and headed to the door.
It took a minute or two. He felt like he was walking, wading, through a room stuffed with cotton. He was pretty sure his head was stuffed with cotton.
Opening the door, he stared at Lindsey. She was one of Rafe’s newer recruits and had a habit of flirting with anybody with a dick. Dominic didn’t read much into it. It was just her way.
Right now, she had a semiserious look on her face and she gave him a quick smile. “Rafe sent me down—he wants you to feed.”
Dom grunted and turned away from the door. He’d figured that much out. “I can get my own food.”
“You won’t have time tonight, and he said you weren’t eating bagged blood right now. You need something to help you wake up and you’re still healing. Bagged won’t cut it and I’ll do a better job than mortal, too.”
Grabbing a pair of jeans, he disappeared back into the bathroom and dropped the towel. Once he’d pulled the jeans on, he threw the towel over the rod and went back into the bedroom. “So basically, you’re my wake-up call.”
“Yeah.” She grinned at him. “I grabbed me a double mocha with extra espresso before I headed home. You might even get a caffeine jolt.”
He didn’t ne
ed the caffeine, not if he was going to feed from a werewolf. Their blood had more than enough kick in it. And considering how much trouble it was just to think, he needed that buzz. Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her to come to him.
Her voice was slightly husky as she asked, “Where do you want me?”
There had to be something seriously fucked-up with him. Lindsey was adorable, slender and cute, with big breasts, a tiny waist and a voice that just screamed sex. She had short, spiked black hair and big green eyes and she dressed like a gothic version of Tinkerbelle. If the look in her eyes was any indicator, she’d be more than happy to give him something besides blood.
All he could think about was a blonde with big blue eyes and a sad smile. The words Good-bye, lover were still haunting him.
He patted the bed beside him, watched as her brow arched, as her smile widened. But when he took her wrist, she sighed.
Dom didn’t look at her. As he sank his teeth into her, he focused on just that—the hot, potent rush of shifter blood and the energy it sent hurtling through him. He drew at her flesh, shuddering as a second hunger roused.
Blood and sex—for a vamp, they often went hand in hand. When he fed, his body wanted sex. When he fucked, he craved blood.
Lindsey seemed quite happy to give him both, curling close. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, her warm body a welcome invitation. Her scent, wild and rich, grew heavier.
He kept it businesslike, even though his cock was pushing for more. He withdrew his fangs and flicked his tongue over the pierced flesh. Between his saliva and her own hyped-up healing, the small wounds were closed in seconds.
“Thank you.”
Lindsey chuckled. “Oh, no problem, honey. If you’re ever in the mood for . . . well, much of anything, you come find me. Rafe said to haul ass once you fed. He’ll be waiting in the garage—you’re being taken to the airport in one of the vans.”
He didn’t look at her as she left.
Now that he’d fed, his head was clearer. It wasn’t an improvement though, because now he couldn’t stop thinking about just what it was that had him out of bed before sunset.
Shit. He’d much rather walk around in a fog for a while.
Too late now.
JUST as Lindsey had promised, Rafe was waiting in the garage. He wasn’t alone, either.
Toronto was with him. Toronto, one of Rafe’s lieutenants, was a werewolf and a general pain in the ass. He had pale, pale hair—almost too white to be called blond—and it fell in a straight line more than halfway down his back. His eyes were also pale, a faint silvery blue. He looked almost too pretty for a man, a fact that Dominic loved to razz him about, under normal circumstances.
Today’s circumstances weren’t normal and Toronto’s smart-ass ways weren’t welcome.
As he stormed into the garage and caught sight of the werewolf, he stopped dead in his tracks and met Rafe’s gaze. “Fuck. Shit. Damn it. Rafe, find somebody else.”
A faint grin tugged at Rafe’s mouth.
Toronto popped a piece of gum into his mouth. The scent of Hubba Bubba filled the air.
“Sorry, Dom. There isn’t anybody else. You need a pilot. Tor flies. Nobody else here does.”
“Fuck. Shit. Damn it.” Dominic whirled around and drove his foot into the base of the concrete wall.
“Lighten up,” Toronto said, grinning at him. “You act like I’m flying you to your own staking.”
Dominic climbed into the back of the plain white van. “You need to do something about your van, Lassie. Don’t you know serial killers just love this make and model?”
Toronto flashed his sharp white teeth. “Don’t worry, Dom. You might be pretty, but you’re not my type.”
Memories—ugly and hated—flooded Dominic’s mind. Slowly, he turned and gave the werewolf a look.
“Ease up, Dominic.”
It was a quiet order.
Sliding his gaze past Toronto’s shoulder, he glanced at the Master. Rafe stood just a few feet away, his face dark, his mouth unsmiling. To a stranger, it might have looked as though the vampire was in a shitty mood.
But Rafe looked the same on good days, which made it harder to tell when he was really pissed.
He might not be really pissed now, but he was heading that way as he gave Toronto a dark look. “You’re playing chauffeur today—so be a good little chauffeur. As in get your ass in the driver’s seat and drive—leave Dom alone.”
Toronto obviously wasn’t as skilled at gauging Rafe’s moods as the others were. “We touchy today?” He cocked a brow. “Gotta suck, losing your punching bag. Don’t worry. While Dom here is gone, I’ll let you pound on me in the gym. I might even let you win a time or two.”
“Just shut the fuck up and get in the van,” Rafe snarled.
That clued Toronto in and his brows drew together, something swirling in his eyes. Tension mounted in the air, heavy, thick, like a summer rainstorm about to open up over them.
Toronto might be happy to play at serving a Master, but he was powerful enough to be a Master if he chose.
Werewolves were notoriously hot-natured, too, and Rafe’s pissed off mood looked like it was now feeding into Toronto’s. A growl rumbled out of his chest.
Rafe narrowed his eyes and said quietly, “You gave a vow when you settled here, Toronto.”
“I’m aware of that.” Toronto’s eyes began to pinwheel, swirling with shades of gray, black and blue.
“Then why don’t you—”
“Rafe.” Dominic settled on the floor of the van and closed his eyes. “Just drop it, okay?”
Rafe grunted under his breath and backed off. Toronto opened his mouth, but then he glanced at Dominic. The shadowed interior of the van didn’t do a damn thing to conceal him, and Dom didn’t need a mirror to know there were dark, ugly secrets written all over him. He knew it, and even though he blanked his expression, he didn’t do it quickly enough.
The anger faded from Toronto’s face, quickly replaced by self-directed disgust. A red flush crept up his neck and he rubbed it. “Dom—”
Without saying anything, Dominic slammed the door shut behind him.
He wished he could have waited for full night. Then he could have just taken one of the bikes and driven himself to Excelsior. Would have taken two nights to make the trip, though, and that was the problem. Rafe wanted him there quicker than that, which meant flying.
Outside, he heard Rafe snapping at Toronto. If he focused, he could have heard the words. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember.
IT was just after midnight when they landed at the private airstrip a half hour from the school. The entire flight had passed in tense, uneasy silence. Toronto, sensing Dominic’s uneasiness, hadn’t attempted to break it, not even once—proving he actually did possess two brain cells in that pretty blond head of his.
As the plane touched down, Dominic took a deep breath and braced himself.
All the what-ifs in his mind were screaming. What if he was going crazy? What if there was something wrong with him? What if . . . what if . . . what if . . .
Kelsey would be here waiting for him. No matter what Rafe said, Dominic had the worst feeling she was going to look at him and tell him he was going insane.
As he climbed out of the little plane, he glanced around. It was still and quiet, the air cool and damp, smelling of spring flowers and grass. The air smelled different here. Different kinds of trees. Different people. He grabbed his duffle without waiting for Toronto. Up ahead, he could see Kelsey at the hangar.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” he muttered. Behind him, he heard Toronto trotting to catch up.
As the blond wolf fell in step beside him, Dominic shot him a dark look. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Well, shit. Maybe the bastard didn’t have those two brain cells.
Thanks to his preflight meal—courtesy of Lindsey—Domini
c had plenty of blood circulating in his body. Right now, it circulated right up his neck, settling in his cheeks as humiliation and shame curled through him.
He worked to bury it—it had been years. Years. He wasn’t helpless anymore. He’d been in medical school before the attack and since then, he’d worked with so many victims—he knew all the logistics. The feral vampire that had Changed him had done a hell of a lot more than that, showing Dominic just what it felt like to be brutalized.
Dominic had done his time in hell. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t to blame.
But even now, the memories still had the power to sneak up on him and sucker punch him like this.
“Leave it alone, Lassie,” he said, hearing the edge in his voice and not caring.
Toronto sighed but said nothing else, ambling along at Dominic’s side, hands tucked in his pockets.
Kelsey met them halfway between the hangar and the plane, smiling at Toronto. The werewolf caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “Kelsey, you look gorgeous. Leave that fucking vamp of yours. You need a warm-blooded man.”
A smile curled Kelsey’s lips and she leaned forward, kissed Toronto on the cheek. “I’ll be sure to give him your regards, Toronto.”
Toronto grinned at her. “You do that.”
As Kelsey focused on him, her smile faded. Dominic’s gut clenched. She arched a brow at him, her green gold eyes curious. “Well, you don’t look happy to be here.”
Dominic didn’t say a word.
He’d rather be sunning himself on a beach somewhere. Even though it would leave him with a murderous sunburn—literally.
Charred vamp sounded a hell of a lot better than having some witch play armchair shrink for him, and he had a feeling that was what lay ahead for him.
THE drive to Excelsior took place in silence. Dominic appreciated that. He’d much rather the interrogation start once he was wherever he was supposed to crash for the duration. Preferably some place loaded with tequila. If he got enough of it in him, maybe it would dull the effects. Might take a tank of Patrón, but he could do it. He thought.
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