by Tessa Dawn
Jocelyn took a step back as his words began to register.
Tristan seemed to sense her uneasiness. "Are we really so different, Joss? I mean, think about it: How many friendships have you made with informants? How many times have you gone undercover or built a relationship with someone you were...cozying up to...in order to get to a suspect? I'm a hunter. You're a law enforcement agent. We do what we have to do."
Jocelyn shook her head. "Is that what it was, Tristan?
Cozying up? It's not the same and you know it! We were partners."
All at once, Tristan stepped forward and cupped her face in his huge hands. He brushed the bones of her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs as he leaned in to kiss her: The kiss was soft, tender, and totally unexpected. "And we still can be." His voice was a low, husky whisper.
Jocelyn gasped, her eyes growing wide. "Tristan! What are you doing?"
He smiled. "Something I've wanted to do since the day I met you." There was no apology in his voice.
Jocelyn rubbed her temples, trying to focus on the situation at hand. Dealing with this new...romantic revelation...would have to come later. As it was, she was already overwhelmed. All I could think of was getting to you.
Rescuing you. Taking you as far away from that monster as I could...before I could even consider hunting him. She replayed Tristan's words in her head: Hunting him.
Hunting Nathaniel!
Her stomach lurched and her heart skipped a beat. "Wait a minute! When you say you needed to rescue me before hunting Nathaniel, what exactly do you mean by hunting? Are you talking about trying to...kill him?"
Tristan sighed and looked her directly in the eyes, his deep golden irises growing dark with intent. "Nathaniel is a vampire, Jocelyn—far more dangerous than you realize. Yes, of course. And not trying to kill him. Killing him."
Jocelyn staggered back as if he had physically struck her, and fear began to take hold where only confusion had stood before...as the gravity of what Tristan was really doing in the valley finally sunk in. This man she believed to be her partner had come to Dark Moon Vale for one purpose—and one purpose only—to take a strong, intelligent creature with hauntingly beautiful eyes, fearsome power, and unexpected gentleness...and kill him. The flesh on her inner wrist began to burn even as her heart began to ache.
"You can't be serious, Tristan. He may be a vampire, but he isn't evil. You can't just kill him."
Tristan looked at her then with a hint of derision in his eyes. There was something dark—barely discernable—just below the surface: jealousy, maybe? Anger or contempt? The look of a boss who had been challenged by a subordinate? It wasn't clear exactly what he was feeling, but his determination to finish his job—to kill Nathaniel—was unwavering.
"He is evil, Jocelyn, and tomorrow morning, after I fly you out of here, I am going to do what I came here to do." He caught at her wrist with his hand, held her in a viselike grip, and stared directly into her eyes with absolute authority. "And then I will return to you, and we will have the...partnership...we were always meant to have."
Jocelyn caught her breath and let out a shrill, high-pitched sound. She yanked at her wrist, but it didn't budge. "Tristan, let me go!" She made it an order...when it was really a plea.
Tristan slowly released her wrist, but he continued to hold her in a steady, unyielding gaze. "Don't look at me like that, Jocelyn. Your sympathy for this vampire is beginning to wear thin. Did you know he killed seven inmates in a California prison the other night?"
Jocelyn frowned and shook her head. "Impossible...when?"
"Sunday. Around four o'clock in the morning."
Jocelyn looked down at the blazing fire, watching as the glowing orange flames sent sizzling sparks across the hearth, shimmering upward as they disappeared into the chimney.
Her own life...and everything she had known to be true up until that moment...was just like the fire—vanishing before her eyes. Melting. Disintegrating. Simply going up in flames as reality continued to do a tailspin in her mind.
She closed her eyes as she tried to remember: Saturday night...and four a.m. Sunday. What had happened that night?
Ah, yes...Nathaniel had discovered her memories of Valentine and Dalia, and he had become so enraged that Marquis had needed to calm him. In fact, Marquis had ordered him to go out and...feed.
Tears welled up in her eyes, burning her retinas, even as she tried to deny the conclusion. It was true then. Nathaniel could have easily killed a dozen people that night with his devastating rage. And he would not have shown any mercy to a gang of criminals—especially if they had committed crimes against women—innocent victims like Dalia. Yet she still couldn't accept Tristan's verdict; she still couldn't believe he was evil.
Jocelyn had seen the face of evil...and that wasn't it.
"Tristan," she said cautiously, trying to appeal to his better nature, "I'm asking you...as your partner—" The words caught in her throat because she knew it wasn't true anymore. Still, maybe their past would appeal to him on some elemental level. "As your friend...don't do this...don't go after Nathaniel. Come with me when I go tomorrow and leave Nathaniel and his family alone."
Tristan stepped forward, his body so close to hers that he towered over her. His once familiar eyes glowed a pale yellow, and the lines of his face hardened with disapproval. "I would've expected more from you, Jocelyn. After all these years, chasing and taking down bad guys, I would've thought you would despise a killer...of any species. And now, you offer to trade your company for his safety?"
Jocelyn shook her head, indignant. "What do you mean, trade my company?"
He bent his head and nuzzled his mouth against her ear, his long, wild hair spilling forward. "You only ask me to leave with you because you're afraid for Nathaniel. If I had any thought to spare his life, you can believe it's gone now. Know this: I will take his head and remove his heart before I return him to the world of the dead."
He slowly traced the front of her body with the pad of his index finger, drawing a straight line from her chin to her navel...stopping just short of the waistline of her skirt. "And I will have you, his celestial bride, for myself." He nipped at her throat like an animal and purred against her jaw.
Jocelyn jolted and stumbled back, both stunned and confused; she was completely disoriented from the continuously changing events. As her heart froze in her chest, she began to think of ways to escape—ways to get away from a man she had thought to be one of her closest friends for the past three years. She put her hands to his chest and gently shoved him back, trying to push him away. She needed distance, but she didn't want to set him off. What in the world was going on with this man? Oh...no, she thought, is Tristan even a man?
After all, what kind of a man knew about and hunted vampires? And why did his eyes darken when his mood changed? Where had that throaty growl come from? And why in the world did he care about her celestial blood?
All at once a knock came at the cabin door.
Tristan stepped back, unfastened the front of his long, wool coat—opening it just enough to show her the heel of his gun—and pointed to the old brown sofa beside the fireplace in a gesture that told her to sit down.
Once she was seated, he gave her a harsh look of caution, and then he held his finger to his lips as he approached the front door.
The knock came again. "Tristan, let me in! I just locked up the shed. It's cold as hell out here!" The voice belonged to Willie Jackson, Jocelyn's long-time informant.
"That's Willie!" Jocelyn exclaimed. "What is he doing here?
How the heck did he find this cabin?"
When Tristan turned around to regard her, she saw the answer in his carefree shrug and tentative smile.
"Another hunter?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"The two of you work together?"
Tristan didn't respond. He didn't have to.
Jocelyn shook her head in disbelief. She didn't know what emotion she felt the strongest—betrayal, fear for
herself, or fear for Nathaniel. How in the world was she going to get out of this? Her head was beginning to spin.
"What's in the shed?" she asked.
Tristan frowned. "The truth?"
"I see no reason for you to lie to me now." Her voice betrayed her hurt.
"An arsenal," he quipped. "And a dangerous one at that: you stay away from that shed, Joss."
"Jocelyn."
"What?" He sounded annoyed.
"My name: it's Jocelyn."
Jocelyn sat further back on the sofa, suddenly feeling even more trapped than before—all at once realizing she had been far safer with Nathaniel. What was it he had told her? This man is not who you think he is....
Nathaniel knew!
He knew Tristan was a hunter....
And if that was the case, then he would come after her...she was sure of it. After all, his life depended on it—and maybe hers did too, now.
Tristan studied her intently, as if he were trying to read her mind, and then he frowned, not bothering to address her last comment. He opened the door and stood back as Willie rushed in out of the cold. A thick blanket of white powder blew in after him, creating a miniature whirlwind of snow in the doorway before Tristan shut the heavy wooden door behind him.
Willie shivered. He was headed toward the fire when he noticed Jocelyn on the sofa and smiled. "Hey, cop." There was a tell-tale note of satisfaction in his voice.
Jocelyn smirked.
Willie looked at Tristan, over at Jocelyn, and then back at Tristan again. He removed the hood of his jacket from his shiny, rapidly balding head and smoothed a calloused hand over his unkempt goatee. "Oh c'mon now. Don't be pissed, Levi. You thought you were playin' me and you got played. All the same game, though, right?"
Jocelyn glared at him, her fuse running short. "This isn't a game, Willie." She turned to stare angrily at her...partner.
"I've been...hunting...human traffickers all this time, while the two of you have been hunting...vampires! And using me as bait! What if I had gotten killed out here?"
Willie took a step closer to the fire and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. The flames reflected back in his muddy brown eyes. "And what if I'd gotten killed givin' up info on the traffickers? I don't remember you gettin' all worried about me, cop."
Jocelyn shook her head, clearly disgusted. "You're wrong, Willie. I have always protected my sources."
Willie smiled a sly, mischievous grin. "Well, you don't look any worse for the wear, Levi." His eyes met Tristan's. "You two good? Or did I walk in on somethin'?"
Tristan smiled and looked Jocelyn up and down. "No, we're good. We're real good."
Jocelyn sneered. "What about the trafficking ring, Tristan?
The women...the dead bodies...the suspect we've been investigating for the last several months? Was I way out in left field with that whole thing as well?"
"Actually, no," Tristan answered, matter-of-factly. "In fact, you were dead on with that whole investigation: Luca Giovanni was running a human trafficking organization. And he was selling the women for slaughter...but just not to some sick human psychopath. He was selling them to vampires without even knowing what they were. Luca knew some of the girls were being murdered, but he had no idea his clients were—"
"A bunch of blood-sucking ghouls." Willie spit into the fire, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up toward the front window. "This storm is lookin' real bad, Tristan. We're gonna need to hold up a night or two before we do any serious hunting."
Tristan's eyes narrowed as he frowned at his cohort. "I think we'll manage to stay warm...somehow." His voice was heavy with sarcasm, and his eyes held a hint of menace.
Jocelyn winced. "You guys aren't going anywhere tonight, are you?"
A heavy wind picked up outside the cabin and began to howl so fiercely that it muted Tristan's voice as eddies of icy snow whipped against the window-pane like small handfuls of pebbles being thrown against the glass. Jocelyn only heard the last three words.... "We hunt tonight." But the tone of Tristan's voice was absolute.
She swallowed her anger and tried to maintain her calm.
Nathaniel and his brothers would not be easily defeated by the likes of Tristan Hart and Willie Jackson—that was for sure.
She needed to keep her wits about her and find a way out of her own predicament. And the fact that they were going...hunting...was probably to her advantage: It might be her only opportunity to escape. Even as her mind thought it, her heart had a hard time believing it. Tristan. Her partner.
Now her greatest threat.
Jocelyn shook her head. She needed a moment alone.
Some space. An opportunity to think. "Does the water run in this place?"
"Sure," Tristan answered. "Why?"
"Because I'd like to go take a shower." She hesitated then, waiting to see how Tristan would react. Waiting to see just how strict her confinement was.
When he didn't respond, she pressed on. "I'm freezing, Tristan. I need to warm up."
Tristan nodded and walked over to a tall birch armoire that stood at the entrance to the hall. He pulled a large bath towel and a travel bag of toiletries out of the upper cabinet and tossed them to Jocelyn. "First door on the left. You have to let the water run for a few minutes to flush the pipes."
Jocelyn nodded and tried to fake a smile of appreciation.
The more room Tristan allowed her, the better. Resisting his authority would only get her tied up or handcuffed to a chair somewhere. She was better off playing on their old partnership as long as she could.
"Thank you, Tristan," she said. Her voice was flat, but at least she managed to get the words out.
Tristan shrugged, and then he moved his hard, muscular body to the center of the hallway and blocked her path. As she stopped in front of him, he looked her straight in the eye, refusing to blink. "Joss, understand this: You are with me now. Nathaniel isn't coming to get you. Not tonight. Not ever.
And as much as you might resent me for all of this...one day you're going to thank me. So don't try anything, partner—we can do this the easy way or the hard way—and you know me well enough to understand what that means."
Jocelyn shoved at his chest, ducked under his arm, and quickly walked by, careful to hide her mounting fear. "I understand, Tristan...."
She knew exactly what he meant.
"We'll figure it out later. Right now, I'm going to take a shower. And you have my word...I won't try anything."
Chapter Seventeen
Joelle Parker had just snuggled under the warm goose-down comforter at the Dark Moon Lodge when she heard a heavy knock at the door. She sat up quietly and listened, her senses fully alert.
The women in the Parker family had been rounded up and ushered to the lodge along with all the women and children of the Lighter vampires, the round-up taking place less than an hour ago...right before an early, freak winter storm had begun to blow into the valley.
Being human, Joelle had not been given so much as a cursory explanation as to what was going on, but it had only taken one glance at the sentinels—the three fearsome Olaru brothers, who stood like splendid Greek statues at the base of the stairway just outside the lodge entrance—to let her know that whatever was going on...it was serious. And she needed to follow orders. The lobby had been full of warriors.
Joelle sighed and held her breath, hoping whoever was at the door would just go away. Ever since the night Marquis had frightened her half to death—the night he had rejected her—the last thing she wanted to see was a lodge full of female destinies and their children: mated women who were loved and cherished by males like Marquis.
Women who had not only been wanted...but chosen.
It was like having a knife thrust into her heart over and over, every time she saw a wife smile or heard a husband say good-bye, but her family was one of the few that had established a long, loyal partnership with the descendants of Jadon—and she could not have refused the order to take shelter at the l
odge even if she had wanted to.
The knock came again, louder this time, and then she heard a deep, melodious voice: "Joelle? Joelle...are you in there?"
Joelle's heart stopped beating in her chest and the air left her body. Her stomach did a funny flip as she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, listening attentively, trying to identify the voice.
It couldn't be....
One more loud, insistent knock: "Joelle, can I come in?"
There was no mistaking that voice—Marquis Silivasi.
Joelle slid deep beneath the comforter, knowing that Marquis could materialize through the wall at any moment.
She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to see him...whether or not she could withstand any further humiliation...but then, he had to have come for a reason. Was he concerned about her welfare? She didn't dare hope.
Joelle adjusted the straps on the pale satin nightgown she was wearing and quickly ran her fingers through her hair. Oh hell, it was dark as midnight in the room. It wasn't like he could see her anyhow.
"Marquis?" she called, knowing he could hear her no matter how faint her voice. "Is that you?"
"Yes," he answered.
Her heart skipped another beat. This just wasn't happening. "What do you want?"
She heard him knock again—lightly this time. "Open the door, Joelle. I need to see you."
Joelle swallowed hard, her heart pounding so loud she was afraid he would hear it. "Okay...just hold on." Her voice was shaky.
Marquis knocked again. "Joelle...I need you to invite me in."
Joelle paused for a moment then, confused. Why didn't he just materialize through the wall? "You can come in without me answering the door, can't you?" She didn't want to leave the safety of the covers—however false the sense of security.
What if he hadn't come out of concern? What if he had decided to fire her, after all?
