“Ah. The book.”
“Are you all right?” he asked carefully. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m just tired from our workout.”
Rick would see through the lie since Jaden had the stamina of an immortal, but he didn’t call her on it. “How about we do something else tonight? A movie maybe?”
“No. I’m beat. I think I’ll just sleep tonight.” Jaden forced a yawn.
“Fine,” he answered, shading his eyes from her. “You’ll still join me for dinner though, right? You did send me halfway across the state for these things.”
Rick waved the sandwich bag at her.
“Of course.” Heading towards her room, she yelled over her shoulder, “I’ll be right down. And you won’t be sorry. Those are the best sandwiches in New York.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?” he called after her.
“Ah, no! I have a water bottle in my room.”
Rick let her leave, watching until her door closed firmly behind her. She was hiding something from him. Sleep? At night? Jaden hadn’t slept a full night since she was a child. Mack made mention of it more than once.
She’d tried too hard to get rid of him. So, he let her think she did and then watched the house to make sure she didn’t leave. A servant was only too willing to make the trip across town for the food.
He wished with all his heart that Jaden would confide in him. Past experience told him that she would try to face her problem alone—and with a book on witchcraft, no less. With a shake of his head and a frown on his face, Rick made his way to the dining room. Jaden was clearly in over her head and it was up to him to save her.
* * *
Jaden studied her half-eaten sandwich as she rubbed the back of her neck. Smiling politely, she pretended to listen to Rick. She couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept wandering back to the impression of ice-blue eyes. A few short days hadn’t lessened her longing for the disapproving vampire. In fact, despite the direness of Tyr’s impending visit, Jaden found she was almost looking forward to seeing him. Such a development did not sit lightly with her conscience. Since he first started aggravating her, she had stopped dwelling on death. His arrogance lit a fighting spirit within her until she almost felt alive again.
Sure, she was alive with anger, but it was better than feeling nothing.
The dining room consisted of a long table surrounded by hand-carved chairs and a matching elegant sideboard. With low lighting and soft, warm colors painted onto the paneled woodwork, the decor made the imposing room feel more intimate than should have been possible,
Jaden reached for her sandwich. A strange lethargy came over her as she tried to bite. She missed. Setting the food down, she looked at her plate. Her teeth felt oddly numb, and her gums lost the ability to feel the press of her tongue. Rolling her neck on her shoulders, she blinked heavily. Rick’s face danced before her.
“Jaden?” Rick questioned, stopping in mid-sentence.
She struggled to her feet. Swaying slightly she looked at him then stumbled to the dining room door, ignoring the sparkling light as it rained down from the chandelier. The wiggling spots waltzed across Rick’s face. She saw his hands reach for her but shooed them back with a quick slap. Her aim missed, falling far to the right. “What did you do?”
He reached for her again. Jaden darted past, running for the stairs, tripping over the hard steps as she moved.
“Jade.” Rick followed her. “Wait a minute.”
She circled around to face him as she reached the top. Holding onto the rail, she backed away. “What did you do, Rick?”
“Jade, please.” His guilt played over his features. He glanced behind, as if becoming aware of the gathering servants. They stared at Jaden and at him, though none moved to help her as she stumbled. Rick shooed them away with a wave of his hand. They immediately obeyed. Lifting his hands towards Jaden as he approached, he tried calming her as he said, “It’s just to help you sleep.”
“You drugged me?” Reaching her bedroom door, she fumbled for the knob.
“You gave me no choice.”
“You deceitful…” Her speech became slurred. She blinked hard. Sound echoed strange and hollow in her ears. Jaden stumbled into her bedroom.
“Me?” Rick scowled. “You’ve been lying to me for the last three days, Jade. I know you are up to something. I can read it plainly in your face.” His words became desperate. “Tell me what is bothering you. Trust me. Let me help. I can take care of you. Please, Jade.”
“I don’t need taken care of. I don’t need anything from you.”
Rick barged into her room, staying close enough to catch her if she fell and far enough that she couldn’t hit him until she did.
“How?” she whispered. “When?”
“Your sandwich. Your uncle left me some pow—”
“I don’t believe you. Mack would never!” she yelled with a shake of her head. But then a memory from childhood surfaced, a dim memory she never visited. It was the same feeling now swimming in her limbs, slowing her blood. Then her arms had been small and Mack’s voice had been soothing, begging her to sleep, to rest without nightmares.
Jaden’s neck swung back on her shoulders. She fell roughly into the side of the bed. Using all her strength, she pushed herself to standing. Her fingers twined around the post for support. Her thoughts danced haphazardly in her head—a laugh from childhood, the voice of an unimportant tutor lecturing algebra to a ten-year-old girl who wanted nothing of it, the clang of swords, a line from a Broadway play shouted by painted actors. Rick’s face danced and she tried to focus on it, blocking out the sounds. “I am up to nothing.”
“I don’t believe you,” Rick countered. “I can see the packed bag you’ve hidden under your bed. Where are you going?”
“You don’t know what you have done.” A trail of spit slid down the side of her jaw and throat. Jaden could no longer stand. She sank to her knees, powerless against the tide of the drug as it drowned her in its languid pool. “He’s coming here…for me…tonight. You don’t know what you’ve done.”
Rick barely heard her words, but what he understood was enough. Going to her, he gathered her in his arms. His hands were tender as they stroked over her. “Who, Jade? Who’s coming?”
“The devil,” she mumbled. Her eyes rolled in her head. Her mouth fell slack, as she said, “He’s come to collect. He’s come to judge.”
“I’ll take care of you, Jade. I’ll always take care of you,” Rick whispered. Jaden didn’t hear him. Her mind had already collapsed into blackness.
He hugged her pliant body to his chest. Her strength weakened until she was a moldable mass within his arms. Her mouth opened in even breath. He reached for her pulse. It was steady and sure. Adjusting her in his arms, he lifted her from the floor. Her limbs flopped as he cradled her carefully before him.
Kicking her black bag from beneath the bed with his foot, he leaned over and picked it up. He angled the heavy duffel bag over his shoulder, keeping Jaden held fast in his arms. It was too late to take her to a safe house, but first thing in the morning he was going to get her out of New York. Tonight they would just have to make do with his apartment.
“I won’t let him take you,” Rick whispered when she fussed in his arms. Even in sleep she fought the effects of the drug. Or was she fighting him? He studied her restless features. The bruise was almost faded. Her clear skin was soft and free of makeup. She was so pale, the skin a gift from her father. Along her eyes he could see the purpling shadows of little sleep. She looked peaceful and so vulnerable. Knowing that he may never again get the nerve, he said, “I love you.”
Jaden moaned as he bounced her in his embrace. Her lips parted. Rick leaned over, his heart in his throat, to hear her soft whimper.
“The devil is going to take me for my sins,” she mumbled, half asleep. Her eyes opened once, the lids too weak to remain so as they fell over her pin-pointed pupils. “And I am going to let him.”
* * *
London, England
“Why are we meeting in London?” Mack asked, breaking into a long silence. He hunched forward, leaning partly over the small round table of the café. His elbows pressed into the wood, feeling the imprint of the rough-hewn top. The opulent cut of his suit was sorely out of place in the literary atmosphere of the dark café. Someone spouted poetry into a microphone, annoying him with the college-boy whining. The kid really knew nothing of suffering.
Mack stared into cold eyes that bore from the depth of an ageless face. Skin that was once dark glowed with a ghostly undertone. At Mack’s words, the creature searched his face. Mack turned his gaze away, pretending to look for a waitress in the dank room.
Stagnant air curled with smoke from burning cigarettes. When the old vampire didn’t answer, Mack dared a glance at him. The face hadn’t changed. Mack made out the flatness of the creature’s nose and the thinness of his lips more from memory than the light afforded him in the dark corner. The vampire looked out from the straight length of his dark brown hair, the eternally graying temples hugged to his cheeks.
“Has something happened, Pietro?” Mack did his best to sound calm, but his words were a bit rushed.
No,” Pietro answered evenly in his thick Albanian accent, though his English was flawless. He didn’t move, showed no enjoyment in their surroundings. “I am monitoring a situation here.”
“What situation?” Mack demanded, still avoiding the vampire’s eyes. He knew better than to study the old gaze too long.
“It is nothing to be concerned over. Just a vampire and his club.”
“Fine.” Mack waved his hand in distraction.
“What urgency forces you to seek me out?” Pietro asked at length. He lifted his hand absently as a woman tried to near the table. She turned around, taking her tray with her. The microphone crackled in the background as a new speaker cleared his throat.
“Is the list you gave me accurate?” Mack queried, finally looking at Pietro directly.
“Yes.” A woman with pink hair passed their table, her bangs pulled high off her head. She didn’t pay any mind to them as she led her lover away. Pietro waited for her to pass, glancing briefly at her back. Then, smiling enigmatically, he added, “As complete as you need it to be.”
“Then you have left some names off,” Mack concluded. “I thought as much. Why? Who are you protecting?”
Pietro’s lips tilted. He didn’t answer.
“You promised that Jade and I would be protected,” Mack asserted. His breath left his throat in a hiss.
“And so you have been,” Pietro responded. “Here you sit before me—protected.”
“Jaden has been marked,” Mack insisted.
“Then she was careless.” The ancient vampire shrugged. “You should have trained her better. I told you all she would need to know. Methinks it is you who cannot control her.”
“She is trained,” Mack defended. “And she is loyal to me. She listens to me. You wanted proof of it so I gave you proof. Bhaltair is dead, is he not? Dead by her hand.”
“Mmm,” Pietro hummed. His eyes closed. Before opening them, he said, “You tricked her.”
Mack ignored the accusation. “She was attacked by an aged vampire. One she was not prepared to fight.”
“If she was not prepared, she shouldn’t have sought him out,” the creature said evenly, showing no sympathy for her.
“She did not seek him out,” Mack retorted in mounting frustration. He pounded his fist on the table in anger. Pietro raised a brow in warning. Mack knew well that Pietro didn’t like tempers. Mack raised his hands in apology. Still frustrated, he softened his tone. “She was sought out. I believe the one that has sought her is named Tyr. The only reference I can find for such a creature is in a book of myths. It is said he is a legendary Dark Knight.”
“He is,” Pietro said evenly.
“Then it is true,” Mack whispered, shaking his head. “There is no hope for Jaden. She can’t possibly defeat one so strong.”
Pietro shrugged, unconcerned.
“You sent him after her,” Mack accused. “Why? We had a deal. I have kept my end of the bargain. I have killed who you’ve asked me to kill. And I have done what you have asked me to do. Our plans are so close to becoming a reality.”
“Not I,” he responded, “but the council. They caught wind of her activities. They sent him to investigate her.”
“So you knew?” Mack asked. “You knew they would send Tyr after her if she killed Bhaltair.”
“I knew only that he was watching her,” Pietro answered. “But I didn’t know he would mark her—such a curious thing that, but hardly worth noting.”
“I won’t lose Jaden like I lost her mother,” Mack swore. “You promised me protection. Call Tyr off. Get rid of him.”
“Mayhap you won’t have to lose anyone.” Pietro’s eyes lit with a devious charm.
“What do you mean?”
“Use the Dark Knight to your advantage,” Pietro answered. “His blood is strong and pure. It is second only to that of the tribal leaders. It will help you in your cause.”
“And how do I capture him?” Mack’s brain greedily formed around the idea. His heart pounded with excitement.
“You have an expendable army,” Pietro shrugged. “And you have your niece. If he has marked her, he will come for her.”
“You mean use her as bait?” Mack asked, part in disgust and part in uneasy consideration.
Pietro nodded once.
“Maybe he only tracks her,” Mack said, doubtful. “What if he doesn’t come for her at all?”
“Vampires are drawn to those they mark. And I have seen the beauty your niece was in her youth. If the rumors of it are now true, he will go to her again. The Draugers,” Pietro stopped with a look of disgust as he mentioned the tribe, “are vain in that way. Beauty and youth sway them. You should use her as bait. Then, when he comes, trap him.”
“But he may kill her,” Mack protested, torn between his ambition and his love for his only family.
“Yes,” Pietro said without sympathy or pity, “he may kill her either way.”
Mack turned his gaze away, knowing he would do as Pietro said. He always did as Pietro said. He didn’t have a choice. It tore at his gut to use Jaden, but he had done it her whole life. Soon though, his work would pay off. Then Jaden would understand the sacrifices they both had to make. She would be happy then. He would make her happy.
“I am famished,” Pietro said quietly. His gaze traveled down to the table.
Mack visibly swallowed before jostling out of his jacket. Rolling up his sleeve, he laid out his arm across the table. Bracing himself for the first sting of pain, he didn’t have to wait long. Pietro leaned forward, his fangs biting into the flesh offered him. Mack turned his gaze away, staring at the stage. His jaw hardened at the feel of cold fingers wrapping around his forearm. He felt teeth moving within him, lips sucking the fresh wound.
Soon it was over. Pietro didn’t bother to stay around. Within a blink he was gone. Mack grimaced, reaching to a nearby table to grab a napkin. He pushed it to his opened wound and bent his elbow to apply pressure. Glancing around to make sure no one saw the interaction, he waved a waitress for a drink.
Soon, he thought. Soon it will be all over. And I’ll finally be free.
Chapter Six
New York City, New York
Rick sighed nervously, setting Jaden down gently on his bed. Drawing his hands out from underneath her unmoving body, he tenderly pushed the hair back from her face. Her head rolled to the side, limp. He maneuvered it back onto the pillow.
“Don’t worry, Jade,” he whispered as he adjusted her limbs. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he talked anyway. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll keep you safe.”
Rick watched her face carefully, hearing the even fall of her breath.
There were no windows in his bedroom. A single thread of light made its way from a lamp in his living room, giving he
r pale cheek a soft glow. Taking a quilt from the end of his bed, he covered her up and tucked the edges around her slender frame. Still she didn’t move.
Rick let loose a deep breath as he touched her motionless cheek one last time. The longing he felt for her welled inside his chest. He’d loved her for a long time and part of him believed if he just waited long enough, she would come to feel the same way for him. He had felt it in her when they first met—before the reality of their worlds collided. He could give her space, because he knew she had a hard life. Mack MacNaughton wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of father figures.
Stretching his neck, Rick wearily rubbed the tension from his muscles as he stood. He made his way to his living room, leaving the door cracked so he could listen for her as he rested on the couch.
Picking her duffel bag up as he walked, he dropped it unceremoniously on his metal coffee table. His feet didn’t break stride as he retrieved a bottle of beer from his kitchen. Twisting the cap, he threw it in the general direction of the wastebasket. It bounced off the wall, landing neatly in its target. Rick didn’t wait to watch it.
Going to Jaden’s bag, he took a long pull off of his beer, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He studied the bag for a moment, debating with himself. Then, his decision made, he sat on the couch.
Rick unzipped the bag, looking in over the content. It had been so heavy that he expected to see an arsenal of weaponry within. Instead, he found her clothes. He smiled slightly, seeing the haphazard way they were thrown into the bag. She hadn’t stopped to fold them. Snagging the strap of her underwear with the corner of his pinkie, he lifted it up into the light. He grinned sheepishly, gazing at the fine lace panties. He couldn’t stop his mind from picturing them on her. How he wished things were different between them.
Dropping the panties back inside the bag, he dipped his hand in after them to feel around. His fingers met the bottom. Just as they began to curl around a book’s edges, a deadly voice intruded his thoughts.
“Did you think you could protect her from me?”
The Jaded Hunter Page 10
