by Rye Brewer
I looked up at the door to the club, where a trio of males was walking up red-carpeted stairs to get inside. Werewolves. No, shifters, I corrected myself. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my fangs threatened to descend. Only they weren’t the sort of werewolves I was used to. Instead of a bunch of hulking thugs wearing grungy clothes, half-covered in fur, these shifters were classy. Sophisticated. They didn’t stink of dirt and grime. They wore Rolex watches and tailored dress slacks, polished shoes, and sunglasses even though it was as dark as night could get. I still didn’t trust them.
I could almost understand why human women would want to go there. Almost.
The girls watched the shifters enter the club, then just about dissolved into the sidewalk.
“Oh… my… God!” Tall Girl looked and sounded like she was either going to have an orgasm or a seizure. “That’s what I’m talking about! You mean to tell me you’re gonna stand out here—alone—and miss out on that?”
Carissa hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She didn’t look anywhere near as sure of herself as she had before.
I could sense she was starting to buckle, as I could smell her rich, fragrant, sweet blood.
Don’t do it. Don’t you give in like that. You know there’s something wrong, don’t you? You can sense it. You’re smarter than your friends. They’re not like you, those men.
“I really don’t feel comfortable, you guys.”
I could sense her friends losing their patience—I could see it, too.
“You’re all going to hook up with random guys and leave without me, and I’ll be all alone.”
“Come on, Cari! You’re being ridiculous. You know you could pick one of those guys if you wanted to. Jesus Christ, you’re ruining the whole night.” Tall Girl tottered over to the red carpet. “I’m going in. You can go home if you want to.”
Yes. Yes, go home. Go anywhere. Just don’t go in there.
“Wait.” Carissa went after her.
I shook my head; she couldn’t be that gullible.
“Okay. If it means that much to you.”
Tall Girl folded her arms and looked the other way.
So, she was the alpha of the group. What she said was law. And Carissa had fallen for it.
As she was crossing the sidewalk to go after her friend, a pair of shifters stepped out of a long, sleek, black car and walked toward the door.
I watched them warily.
“Hey, gorgeous,” one of them growled, looking at Carissa. “What are you doing out here? You should be inside with me.”
I wanted to rip his throat out and shove his designer sunglasses in the hole I left.
Slimy bastard.
Tall Girl, on the other hand, pounced on the chance to pull Carissa in with her. “She’s a little shy,” she purred, walking up to the shifter who’d hit on Carissa. “I think she needs a little coaxing.”
He smiled, and his teeth flashed white in the light from the streetlamps. The smile of a predator. “Don’t worry. I can do all the coaxing in the world.” He slid an arm around her waist and left no question about whether or not she was going in with him.
I watched, barely holding myself back, as he steered her inside.
Her friends, as well as his friend, followed them in.
Never in all the years I’d been alive had I ever felt so useless. I couldn’t step out of the shadows and save Carissa from the shifters. They would be on me in a minute—them, and all their friends. I couldn’t follow her in, so there was no way of knowing what was happening.
I hoped she was as smart as I tried to give her credit for.
She wasn’t smiling as she walked in, so she might call it an early night.
I could only hope.
I waited for her to come out. What choice did I have? I couldn’t let her go. Her blood sang to me. I couldn’t get the scent out of my head. I wouldn’t be able to exist without knowing whether she was all right.
I saw one shifter after another walking in and out—and when they exited, they inevitably had a hot young thing on their arm.
Sometimes, the crowds outside the club were so thick, I could barely make out one face from another for all the moving, teeming bodies and their conflicting scents. Not that it mattered; I would’ve known her scent anywhere. It cut through all others.
When the redheaded friend stepped outside, giggling the way a girl giggles when she’s had just shy of too much to drink, my senses went on high alert.
Were they leaving? There was hope yet.
A well-dressed shifter stepped out behind her and stroked her hair. She nearly swooned. They walked off together.
I checked my watch. It had been two hours. Two hours! I could hardly believe how time had flown. It didn’t matter when I was waiting for her. All my senses were focused on one person.
The tall, dark-haired alpha girl stepped out maybe twenty minutes later with a beefy creature on her arm. She was practically draped over him—he nearly had to carry her, but not because she was drunk. He waited for a valet while she nuzzled him, arms around his neck.
My blood boiled. Had she left Carissa in there? Selfish. It was one thing to separate during the night if that was everybody’s plan—I had done that enough times with my brothers when we were out at the club, and the disco before that, decades ago.
But when somebody didn’t want to be there to begin with, it wasn’t right to leave them.
I muttered curses under my breath as they got into a sports car.
The rest of her friends left the same way over the next half-hour. Even the bigger girl, who looked like she wanted to pinch herself as she walked hand-in-hand with a massive shifter whose thick, black hair hung past his shoulders.
But no Carissa.
I wasn’t sure what to think.
She couldn’t be having a good time in there.
I couldn’t go in and get her—what would I say if I could? I smelled your blood and need you to come with me? Right. That would seem much less threatening than a bunch of shifters.
Suddenly, my problem solved itself when she hurried outside.
Alone.
I could almost taste my relief, leaning against the cool, brick wall for a second.
She looked back and forth, maybe debating on whether to catch a cab or walk, before heading in the direction from which she’d arrived with her friends.
She had company.
Just as I was about to trail her, the double doors to the club opened and out stepped the shifter who had made a pass at her and ushered her inside. He looked furious as he took off in her direction.
I followed, almost running to catch up. I didn’t reach them until he had already grabbed her arm.
“Hey, asshole! Let go!” She tried and failed to wrench her arm free.
“What’s your problem?” he growled. “Don’t you know when a guy’s trying to show you a good time?”
“I can have a good time on my own, thank you. Let me go!” She tried again and let out a little whimper of pain when his hand visibly tightened.
“Let her go.” I stepped up beside him, hands balled into fists. “She said she doesn’t want to hang out with you tonight, friend.”
His head swiveled in my direction, and his already dark eyes turned nearly black with hatred. “I’m not your friend.”
“No. You’re not. Now, let her go, or we both know you’ll regret it.”
Our eyes were locked.
I almost forgot about Carissa, I was so ready to fight.
That would’ve been catastrophic—and knowing it would be catastrophic was the only thing keeping me in check.
A public brawl between a shifter and a vampire? The last thing we needed.
“You’re alone. You know I have a lot of friends across the street,” he whispered menacingly.
“You wouldn’t have time to get them out here,” I promised. “Now, let her go. There are plenty of other girls in there for you to choose from.”
His f
ace contorted into a mask of disgust, but he released her. “This is war,” he snarled. “Wait and see what we do to you for this.”
I watched as he strode away, every muscle tensed with rage.
I relaxed then remembered the overwhelming girl standing just behind me.
I turned to find her staring up at me with wide, blue eyes and wondered what I was supposed to do with her.
27
Gage
What was that all about?” she asked, eyes still wide. “What did he mean by war? Who was he to you? And who are you, anyway?”
“A lot of questions.” I grinned.
“Answer the last one first, please.” I admired how self-possessed she was after what had just gone down. I guessed a girl as beautiful as her, living in a place as rough as New York, would have to learn to let things roll off her back.
“My name is Gage. I saw that guy harassing you and thought you could use some help.” I shrugged.
“But what did he mean by war?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
We stood there, me with my hands in my pockets and her with her arms wrapped around her thin, easily broken body.
She had no idea how close she’d come.
“Are you all right getting home?”
“I guess so.” She chewed her bottom lip and hesitated.
“Do you want me to walk with you?”
She shook her head then nodded. “I can’t even think straight,” she admitted, blushing. “Not that that guy bothered me all that much, but that club… I didn’t have a good time. It’s been a strange night.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve had a strange night, too.” Very strange.
For starters, I had never felt such a pull toward any human. She drew me to her without saying a word, consuming my entire being with the need to have her.
“Would you mind walking me?” she asked with a shy smile. She was so endearing.
“Of course.” I let her lead the way—it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to know I had been following her—and fell in step beside her.
It was still fairly early for Manhattan on the weekend, barely midnight.
“Were you out alone tonight?” I asked, reminding myself again I wasn’t supposed to know anything about her.
She let out a hard laugh without humor. “I am now, I guess. It didn’t start out that way.”
I remembered the tall girl who’d manipulated her, and frowned.
“By the way. You never told me your name,” I murmured.
She smiled that same shy, little smile. “Carissa. But you can call me Cari. Anybody who saves me from the clutches of a monster gets to call me by my nickname.”
She had no idea how right she was, either. It was uncanny how sharp her instincts were.
Then again, what about the monster who is walking her home?
“Carissa. That’s pretty.”
“It sounds like something out of an old romance, one of those Victorian melodramas,” she joked.
I wished I could tell her I was alive when those Victorian melodramas came out, and that, yes, her name would’ve fit in perfectly in that era.
A breeze blew past us and lifted her dark-blonde waves, sending her scent even more alluringly to my nostrils.
I gulped, fighting back the bloodlust raging all through me.
“So, Gage, what do you do?” she asked as we continued to walk.
Unlike the people going past us, we were strolling. Neither of us was in any hurry to get anywhere.
“For a living, you mean?”
“Of course,” she smiled.
“I help run the family business. My father passed away a long time ago, so my brothers and sister and I keep things going.” The image of Fane’s face flashed before my eyes.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured. “My father died a long time ago, too.”
“He did?”
“9/11,” she said, and we left it at that. No further explanation needed.
“What do you do?”
“I work for a magazine. Nothing special.”
“What do you want to do?”
We waited at a corner for the light to change, and she turned to me.
“Huh?”
“What do you want to do?” I asked again. “Everybody wants to do something else, something other than what they’re doing. Isn’t that the whole point?”
She laughed. She had a great laugh. “I guess you’re right! Between you and me, I would rather be working in one of the offices instead of sitting in a cubicle out on the floor. Writing or editing.”
“You’re a writer?”
“I wish.”
“Do you write?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like to write?”
“Sure.”
“Then, you’re a writer.”
“You make it sound so simple.” She smiled.
“It is when you boil it down.” I took her elbow to help her across the street—not even thinking about it, just wanting to be sure she was safe when there were cars waiting to turn in our direction.
She didn’t pull away.
“I should keep you around as my career manager,” she joked. “If you ever get tired of your job, let me know.”
“Eh, for me it’s not that easy.”
“I thought everything was easy when you boil it down.” She winked.
I had to laugh. “For me, it really is different. It’s more of a… family business.”
Her eyes went perfectly round. “The mafia?” she whispered.
I burst out laughing so hard I had to stop walking for a second. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like this, or if there was ever a time in my long existence when I needed humor relief. “No, no! Not at all.” I laughed some more.
“I didn’t think it was that funny,” she said, but she was smiling.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “If my brothers had heard that, they would die. No, we’re not that way at all. Think more… like the way certain positions are passed down from one generation to the other.”
“Royalty?” She sounded skeptical this time.
“In a way. In a very, very loose way. And I think we should stop talking about it now.”
Her eyes twinkled wickedly. “Am I being walked home by an actual Prince Charming, who saved me back there?”
“I see you’re not willing to let this go.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”
We walked to a pizza shop with a window facing out onto the street.
“Would it be ridiculous if I told you I’m starving right now?” she asked.
No, it wouldn’t, because I was starving, too. But not for food.
It was everything I could do to hold a conversation with her when the pull of her blood filled my consciousness.
“Of course not. You’re human. You get hungry.”
She smirked. “Yeah, but girls aren’t supposed to like to eat. Didn’t you know that?”
“I might have heard something like that, but it doesn’t mean I believe it.”
“Oh, I like you.” She grinned before turning toward the man leaning halfway out the window. “Slice of white, please.”
I watched as she carefully dabbed off the excess grease with a handful of napkins before sprinkling salt and garlic powder—oh, the irony, vampires, and garlic, supposed to keep us away. A stupid legend with no basis in fact.
She folded the slice in half—it was almost as big as her head—and took a large bite. She closed her eyes and let out a little groan of pleasure.
I didn’t know whether to applaud or kiss her.
Kiss her? Where had that come from? And yet I felt it.
“I’m sorry. Are you hungry?” she asked, pointing to the window. “I didn’t mean to hog the space.”
“I’m fine.”
She took another bite, and we walked more slowly while she ate. Even after she was finished, we kept a slower pace, tal
king about whatever came to mind.
We couldn’t seem to stop coming up with things to say. I knew I couldn’t. She told me she was a Yankees fan in a family full of Mets fanatics, she had five siblings in all, and that her mom was a school teacher.
“And Dad was an investment banker,” she quickly added, voice tinged with pain.
I marveled at how years could pass, but the pain was still there. I knew the feeling.
“I lost both my parents at the same time, actually. Years and years ago.”
“Wow. Both of them?”
“Yeah. My brother and I, we’re the oldest. Twins. We sort of had to keep everybody else in line. We weren’t ready to take over the business, I don’t think. But I wanted to, you know? He was older by around a hair’s breadth, so he got the job. I wasted a lot of time being mad at him because of that. I got myself into trouble over it, too.”
“We all make mistakes when we’re young.”
I held my tongue. She had no idea how young I wasn’t.
“Anyway, I still remember the uncertainty and pain of those days. Sometimes I still feel it, in little bursts. You know?”
She sighed. “Yes! It’s like sometimes, I almost forget it happened. It was so long ago. How is it possible I would forget after all these years of not being with him?”
“I don’t know. A defense mechanism, maybe. Our brains want to keep us safe, and I don’t know… Functioning, I guess. If we thought about the pain every day, all the time, how could we function?”
“I guess that’s true.” She smiled—a little sadly, but it was a smile.
My hand itched to take hers, but I didn’t dare let myself do that. If I did, I would want more. I already wanted more.
And when did I go from wanting to taste more of her blood to wanting to hold her hand?
We reached a block of brownstones, and she stopped around halfway down, in front of a stone staircase. “This is me,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
I realized then that we’d been together for hours.
It was almost four in the morning—the newspaper trucks were driving past as we stood there, wondering what to do next.
“The whole house?” I asked.
“No! I wish. Just an apartment.” She looked up the stairs then at me. “Do you want to come up?”
