Haven

by Celia Breslin

  He rolled his sky blue eyes, a clear ‘shut up already.’ Those eyes appeared extra bright at the moment, thanks to his light blue T-shirt. It was tight, too, showing off his sculpted torso. My gaze strayed lower. His gray slacks weren’t a tight fit, but I knew muscle, muscle, and more muscle resided under that loose fabric.

  Adrian patted my arm, his hand settling on my waist. His touch was warm and comforting, like a favorite old blanket on a cold night. I wanted more. I leaned into him until our lower bodies touched.

  He eyed me warily. “What are you doing?”

  My hand encircled his neck and I pulled him in for a kiss. His lips were soft, warm and plump. Almost too plump for a guy, a bit girlie in fact, but they suited him. We kissed with ease. Years of practice made it effortless. Just what I needed. No deep thoughts, no out-of-control feelings. Something safe. Comfortable.

  Without warning, his large frame crushed me to the bed. He kissed me hard, powerful hips grinding against mine. Steel fingers trapped my arms above my head.

  “Tell me what you feel.” His voice was gruff.

  “What?” Of course, I felt his hard penis pressing against my girlie bits. Did I need to spell that out for him?

  He tightened his hold. “What do you feel?”

  I frowned. “You’re hard and you’re hurting my wrists. Let go.”

  He relaxed his grip, but anger flashed in his blue eyes. “Try again, babe. I swear you’re so obtuse when it comes to this shit.”

  His anger fueled mine. “You did not call me stupid.” I squirmed under him.

  He leaned on my arms. “You bet I did. Now let me dumb this down for you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No. You listen.”

  “Kind of hard to argue since you have me pinned to the bed,” I huffed.

  “Like you can’t call for a little vampire back-up anytime you want,” he scoffed. “Or fight me off with your super powers.”

  Oh, heard about that had he? Unwilling to hurt him, I settled for glaring. “Fine. Get on with it.”

  “Tell me how you were feeling.”

  “I already told you.” Annoyance made my words clipped and cold.

  “How did you feel when we were kissing?” he insisted, ignoring my grumpiness. “What do you feel right now?”

  “You’re heavy.”

  “C’mon Rina.”

  I made him wait a few beats. “Well, when we kissed, I felt, you felt, it felt—”

  “Yes?”

  “It was nice,” I admitted, my irritation fading.

  “Just nice?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. You’re a good kisser. You know that. It was nice. Your lips are nice.” I smiled but my attempt to lighten his mood failed.

  “What about this?” He ground his lower body against mine.

  Last week that would’ve excited me, but now? “You’ve got a hot, hard body. Again I say, you know that, but...” I failed to find a nice way to say he no longer excited me.

  He gave me a curt nod. “Right. Now close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it.”

  I complied.

  “Good.” Adrian rolled off me. “Now, think about Alex.” He trailed a hand down my arm. “Remember what you two were doing the last time you saw each other.”

  His fingers stroked my face then traced a line between my breasts, down my stomach, slipping inside the waistband of my jeans, lower, lower. I took in a shaky breath, quivering from head to toe at the memory of my last hot and heavy encounter with Alexander. Our bodies pressed together, me on his lap, the long, hard kiss, the taste of blood in our mouths, and my deep need for more. I reached out, seeking Alexander, forgetting it was Adrian.

  He reminded me. “There you have it.” His hand withdrew.

  “Have what?”

  He surged to his feet. “You, my dear, are hardwired for monogamy.” His voice was neutral, but his eyes burned.

  “I don’t see what my sexual habits have to do with—”

  “Alex is the one for you. As we’ve already established.”

  “Just because—”

  He gave me a dismissive wave and strode to the door. “You wanted this because it’s safe and easy and you can control it. Or so you thought. Well guess what. You can’t use people—no, you can’t use me like that. I’m not playing, and honestly Rina, you don’t want to play anymore, either. Now stop being such a chicken shit. Get up and get on with it already. With Alex.”

  ~ * ~

  I lingered upstairs until the clink and clatter of pots and cutlery told me Adrian was in the kitchen. Only then did my shame and I trudge downstairs.

  Would an apology be enough to fix the damage I’d done?

  In the living room, Stella reclined on Adrian’s tan leather couch, her booted feet propped up on his one-of-a-kind, glass-topped, driftwood coffee table. She balanced a wine glass of blood in one hand while the other flicked through a magazine on her lap. She gave me a curt nod as I arrived in the foyer.

  My mortification increased. Great. She’d heard what had transpired upstairs. Given the vampire super hearing deal, Jonas had heard it all from the kitchen, too.

  I hesitated in the dining room, peeking into the kitchen via the bar pass-through. At the center island cooktop, Adrian stirred something in a pot. At the kitchen table, Jonas drank blood from a small glass tumbler. My heels clicked on the dark wood floor as I entered and took a seat next to Jonas.

  “Hi.” A quiet, polite greeting. I didn’t want to argue. Too busy working up the nerve for a public apology to Adrian.

  Jonas observed me in silence, face blank, dark eyes unreadable.

  Adrian plopped a pair of chopsticks and a steaming bowl of food in front of me. Inside, a scoop of brown rice, one poached egg, shredded seaweed, sesame seeds. “A nosh before your brothers stuff you full of pasta later.”

  I stared after him as he sauntered back to the island. This was my favorite post-run breakfast. Clearly, I was forgiven.

  He returned with a tiny condiment bowl. “Ginger soy dressing.”

  I gave him grateful eyes. “Adrian, I—”

  He kissed my forehead. “Eat.”

  Relieved, I dug into the food with gusto. Jonas topped his glass from the pitcher of blood on the table, all the while watching me with his inscrutable eyes. A snake eyeing its prey. His black attire contributed to his sinister vibe, from the short sleeve v-neck shirt, to the custom-fit slacks and designer loafers. His gold ankh necklace, as usual, provided the only touch of color on his body.

  As we sat in both inner and outer silence, my mind replayed another meal at another table.

  I occupied a large blue velvet chair, my tiny legs curled under me to reach the tabletop. Jonas slouched in another high back chair, blood-filled wine glass in hand, watching me twirl spaghetti around a fork and try to shove the huge ball into my mouth, only to have most of it fall back to the plate.

  A husky laugh sounded from nowhere. Uncle Zi appeared in tight black pants, riding boots, and a black shirt unbuttoned to the waist. A shiny ruby-encrusted gold ankh on a long gold chain rested against his pale chest. His long black hair was damp and spilled over his shoulders in loose ringlets, smelling of rain and lavender.

  His red lips curled upward. “You forgot this.” He produced a spoon out of thin air.

  I squealed in delight at the magic trick. He put the spoon in my left hand, and covered both my tiny hands with his to help me twirl a small pasta ball on the fork, using the spoon as a support base.

  A hand squeezed my shoulder jerking me back to the present. My chopsticks slipped from my grasp.

  “Easy there, babe.” Adrian patted my back. I coughed, trying to shake off the head rush from the flashback.

  “I’ve gotta go to the club now. You two play nice, okay?” He kissed us both on the cheek, me first, grabbed his suit jacket off the counter and sauntered out the back door.

  I stared after him long after the door closed, wanting to go to the club, too, immerse
myself in routine business. Avoid dealing with the mega-weird world back here in the house.

  Jonas’s glass hit the table harder than necessary. “Tell me about your dream.”

  I stiffened. “Tell me about your dream, please.”

  His eyes narrowed. Tiny electric shocks scurried up my arms.

  “Hey!”

  His lips twitched. “Please.”

  “What happened to playing nicely?” I groused.

  “This is nice.”

  “Back off.”

  Stella appeared at the table, empty wine glass in hand. She arched a questioning dark brow.

  Jonas said nothing.

  I spoke for us. “We’re okay. I think.”

  Stella shot Jonas a hard look, refilled her wine glass and disappeared at hyper speed.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I admitted into the ensuing silence.

  Jonas extended one slender white hand, palm up. “Show me.”

  “Did you see that flashback?” I stalled. “Before Adrian touched my shoulder and snapped me out of it?”

  “No. Show me.”

  I placed my hand next to his. “So, I hold your hand, and you’ll get it? Just like at the clinic?”

  He nodded.

  My fingers found his, warm from the blood he drank. Eyes closed, I pictured the spaghetti dinner memory. His fingers squeezed mine, an unexpected and welcome gesture of affection. I did love the grouchy guy despite our near constant friction, so I squeezed back.

  The Dixon dream flowed through my mind. Jonas stiffened and hissed as Dixon and the shadow dude attacked me. When the dream room burst into flames, Jonas shot to his feet and pulled me into his arms. My eyes flew open. His glittered with protective anger.

  Stella whooshed into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

  Jonas bared his fangs at her and snarled. Stella had no time to react because Lorenzo stormed into the house cursing and yelling for her in Italian. She strode back into the living room, exchanging heated words with my brother. He was angry over the Ferrari. No surprise there.

  Thomas appeared in a rush of cold air. “What has happened?”

  “Her dream,” Jonas replied, releasing me.

  The two men faced each other and conversed in their heads. Shutting me out, yet again.

  I slumped into my chair. “I know you’re talking about me. I think you should let me in.” There. That was polite. Reasonable even.

  She’s right, Tessa agreed. Let her in.

  “Tessa? Where are you?”

  Unimportant, my darling one. Listen.

  The two men were arguing.

  Now is not the time for full disclosure, Thomas said.

  When is the time? When it is too late? Jonas grumbled. When she is dead? Or our Prince?

  You exaggerate, my friend. It will not come to that.

  You do not know that.

  It will not come to pass, Thomas insisted.

  If we act now, perhaps not, Jonas countered. Silence. Then, We cannot ignore Dixon’s transgressions.

  An unfortunate complication, to be sure.

  A hostile challenge, Jonas growled.

  Yes, Thomas conceded. It is a shame he failed to recognize the truth before him until it was too late.

  It matters not he presumed she was your food, Thomas. Be she food or Tranquilli, his was an act of aggression.

  He has been punished.

  Clearly inadequate, Jonas snapped. Even caged in the Deep Freeze, he has sided with our enemy, opened the way for l’uomo nero’s second attempt. We cannot remain idle in the face of this threat.

  Patience, my friend. The Dark One is incorporeal and that limits him. Remember how easily we contained him within the Seer.

  “Wait a second,” I interjected. “L’uomo nero means boogeyman. Are you saying the boogeyman came after me in my dream? And possessed Faith? The boogeyman. Seriously?” I laughed. “No. Way.”

  They ignored me.

  Do not underestimate him, Thomas. That he did not meet a true death at our Prince’s hand, as we had all believed, speaks to the greatness of his power.

  We were all there, Jonas. He perished, his body burned to ash. In spirit form, he is but an echo of his former dark self. A mere shadow. I say again, this restricts his reach.

  Jonas is right, Tessa interjected from wherever she was. We must act. The Dark One has revealed himself twice in the here and now after more than a century of silence. According to our young Seer, his minions are still many.

  No. Thomas’s tone brooked no argument, but Tessa pressed on.

  Have you forgotten the not so distant past? How many dear ones we lost? We almost lost our Little Star when his dark servants attacked our stronghold in His name.

  Of course not, but—

  Tessa cut him off. We hid her well these twelve years past, but she has been made whole once more, and already she begins to shine like the beacon she is. All too soon all will see her and know her instantly. The Chosen One. The Star. L’Uomo Nero sees her, Thomas. He will come for her. And with Dixon at his side...Jonas is right. We cannot afford to underestimate him now.

  Thomas shook his head. No.

  You stubborn man, Impatience edged Tessa’s voice. How can you continue in this obstinacy when the Dark One has touched our beloved’s mind and attempted a coup? And Maurizio has summoned her to his presence, ordered her to use the Key, and you know she understands none of this. It is time for considerable revelation.

  No.

  Interesting. Of the three of them, Thomas held the veto power.

  Dammit, Thomas! Jonas’s power burst over the room like an electrical storm. Thomas didn’t even flinch but I jerked and bumped the table. The glass of blood wobbled. I grabbed it.

  All three vampires spoke at once, an incomprehensible jumble of painful sound in my head. In the dining room, Stella and Lorenzo argued about cars and responsibility and respect and the chain of command and assorted other things I didn’t want to hear.

  I shut out the cacophony, frowning down at the glass as my brain processed this latest bit of info. Not only was Dixon out for a piece of revenge pie, but he had a partner in crime, the mythical boogeyman. The latter just happened to be a super powerful, bodiless vampire with an unhealthy interest in me.

  I mean, c’mon, seriously? How am I supposed to fight a shadow? Can I please cry ‘foul’ now?

  “This makes no sense,” I muttered. “I’m not special.”

  Thomas lowered himself into the chair next to me. “Yes, you are.”

  The house was quiet now. Lorenzo and Stella sat at the table with Thomas and me.

  Jonas placed a chair backwards next to Thomas and straddled it, arms resting along the top. “You are unique. Others will seek you out.”

  “Yeah, I get it, I’m a monster magnet and they all want a piece of me. Peachy.”

  A lengthy silence ensued until I asked, “How do I get rid of the big, bad bodiless boogeyman, before he gets rid of me?”

  Jonas, ever the warrior, gave an approving nod.

  Thomas’s green eyes glittered. “Excellent question, cara mia. So practical.” He cracked a smile, showing full fangs. “Your father would be proud. You are like him in many ways.”

  “Thomas!” Lorenzo banged a fist on the table and glared at the other man. “You promised me. You said ‘no.’ No, dammit!”

  I eyed my brother. “Dude, what’s your problem?”

  Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression murderous.

  “He is afraid,” Thomas supplied, watching me.

  “Afraid of what?” I sensed we no longer discussed the boogeyman. I clutched the glass of blood to my chest.

  “He fears the truth. And your reaction to it.”

  “Don’t do this, Thomas. Not now. Not like this.”

  Lorenzo was begging? How odd.

  “Like what?” I drew the glass to my nose and sniffed. The metallic smell tickled my nose in a pleasant way.

  Jonas leaned forward, re
sting his chin on his hands, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  “Rina, stop.” Lorenzo stood. Stella’s small yet forceful hand pulled him back down.

  I put down the glass. “Dude. Again I say, what’s your problem? It’s blood. It’s not like you haven’t seen someone drink blood.”

  “But not you,” Jonas supplied.

  Lorenzo’s brow furrowed. “You really want to drink that?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. What does it matter?”

  My brother gave Thomas a pleading look. Was I missing something?

  “It matters.” Jonas picked up the glass and drained the contents.

  Thomas refilled it and slid it to me. “Drink.”

  It wasn’t a command, but suspicion arose. “What’s going on now? I thought we were getting into some big truth telling.”

  “Why tell when showing is much more—”

  “If you say fun I’ll punch you in the face.” I disliked the excited twinkle in his green eyes, the hum of anticipatory tension in his body.

  “Try a little sip.”

  “Now you sound like a drug dealer.” My hand circled the glass.

  “Taste it,” Thomas uttered at the same time my brother pleaded, “Don’t do it, Rina.” The latter pounded both fists on the table.

  “That’s enough from both of you, especially you, Mister Melodrama.”

  I raised the glass. Lorenzo cursed. I rolled my eyes and took a sip.

  “Oh.” Warm. Wonderful. Yum.

  The top of my head tingled and a drug-like warmth engulfed me. Major headrush. Another sip tugged at my stomach. Wow, this is so good.

  “Rina, sorellina, smettila per favore. Please stop,” Lorenzo croaked.

  I chugged it.

  A raging fire flared to life in my gut, searing me from head to toe. I dropped the glass and shot to my feet, only to collapse to the floor on all fours, trembling under the weight of the power roaring inside me. This power was big, worthy of attention from the bad monsters on the block. It differed from the power plays I’d experienced with Alexander. It triggered alarms in my brain. Red Alert. Danger. Extreme Danger.

  Yes, this power was dangerous. I was dangerous. Bad things would happen if I let the power escape the confines of my body.

  “Sorellina!” Lorenzo lunged for me, overturning the table.

  Stella tackled Lorenzo. They crashed into the cabinet near the bar pass-through, breaking the door and the dishes inside.