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“The debut novel to a new paranormal series, “Blood Rogue” is a fast-paced, action-packed fantasy from page one…. it is an entertaining story readers can devour in no time.”Arec Rain
In D’Tale Magazine
“Blood Rogue took me on a journey filled with suspense, danger, humor, and romance.”Nadene
Totally Addicted to Reading
5 out of 5 starsMandy Parmenter
“…a charming story that was a nice derivative of a standard vampire story… I loved the drama and danger throughout the book… the insights into vampire politics were fascinating… well written and very easy to read and understand it was a great start to the series and I'm looking forward to what happens next.”
MP Book Reviews
5 out of 5 starsApril the Book Dragon
“…Stacy and Chaz light up the page together and are downright unforgettable. Plenty of steam and just enough danger to keep the plot zipping along at a fast, thrilling clip combine to make this a phenomenal read in the vein of JR Ward that fans of paranormal romance will adore as much as I did.”
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Synopsis
There is the blood and can only ever be the blood. So, how will love survive in a world of pain?
Vampire Charles Tower never knew anything sweeter than the taste of Stacy Morgan's lips.
He never imagined anything crueler than her being marked for death by the only father he's ever known.
Mikhail reared him. Taught him how to survive. Now he's gone rogue and it's up to Charles to put the man down.
But can he convince himself, and Stacy, that love between them is impossible?
That's hard to do with a woman like her, especially when she offers herself up as bait.
Now they must fight against the centuries-old customs that bar them from being together and the rogue vampire who wants every last drop of Stacy's blood.
If you like Richelle Mead, Ilona Andrews, or K.F. Breene, you'll love this vampire paranormal romance!
Release date: September 8, 2020
Publisher: City Owl Press
Print pages: 293
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Blood Rogue
Linda J. Parisi
CHAPTER ONE
Chaz
Every city has a pulse, a vibration, a sound. Take New York City, for instance. The city that never sleeps; it’s unstoppable, frenetic, and definitely treble. Then there’s the new New York. Hoboken, New Jersey, the land of thirty-something’s tired of living four to a one-bedroom apartment, the city across the Hudson, anchored in the bedrock of the Palisades. Hoboken pounded out bass, slow, deep, rhythmic, and solid, like the beat of a human heart, the one organ a nine-hundred-year-old vampire would never take for granted.
Charles Tower, Chaz to those who knew him best, stood in Beans— his guilty pleasure. He stared at the rows of jars with black beans, brown beans, beige beans, appreciating that in his human life, coffee would have been as foreign to him as a heavy metal band. As a human born in the year 1094AD, he would always wonder what the brew tasted like. He hoped it would be as heavenly as the aroma permeating the store, sweet, earthy, and pungent. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, feeling a little bit like an addict.
Yes, he knew all about that word, as well as need and cravings, the likes of which a human could never understand. There was the blood, and there could only ever be the blood, even when he tried to enjoy something as simple as a coffee shop.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Would there ever be a time when he could step up to a cash register and pay for a bag of Arabica that he’d give away, without thinking about the river of life? Maybe he’d be better off thinking of the rogues, the out of control vampires that he’d had to kill too often lately.
Frowning, he turned, left the store, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Mayhem assailed with a cacophony of sound. The blare of a car horn, the rumble of a truck over uneven pavement, to the thoughts of the hundreds of people he didn’t want to listen to. He tried to block out the sounds, to no avail. He stepped right into the path of three lovely women who parted like the Red Sea then came back together again as they passed. One, the blonde with the ponytail, looked back over her shoulder.
Chaz stilled. Her round face could’ve used more chin and less cheekbone. She had dark brows and even darker rimmed glasses. But, there was something about the beautiful eyes behind the lenses. Bright, the color of a midday sky, filled with energy and curiosity and such life. God, he could drown in that gaze, never surface, and remain happy forever.
Except for the blood.
She turned to her friends, and the moment died the way moments like this do, except he heard her say, “Oh my God. I just saw the most gorgeous guy.”
“What?” asked the tallest of the three. “Stacy? Stacy Ann Morgan? The geek-cop? Noticing—oh-my-goodness—” She placed a hand against her chest. “—a man?” Her tone oozed attitude.
“Ease up, Kels.”
Stacy. He liked that name. Curiosity piqued, and the irrational need to see those eyes again had Chaz wanting to hear more. He turned and followed them at a safe distance.
“No way. This is simply too delicious. Maybe Stace’ll try and dissect him first. Wait. No. She’ll run a two-week background check on him right down to his seventh cousin’s middle name.”
“Low blow, Kels,” the woman on her right said. Her shoulders drooped a little, then her back straightened. “You do realize she carries a gun, don’t you?”
“Ladies…stop! I’m right here you know.”
Yes, indeed, he thought.
She walked with a long determined stride and had a trim, athletic body. She seemed to assess everyone and everything around her as she walked. Was that out of curiosity or protectiveness? By blocking out the myriad of voices around him, he also blocked out hers, so he’d have to find out.
“Of course you are,” continued the one they called Kels. “But we know all about you quiet ones, don’t we? You may act shy around the opposite sex, but still, waters run deep and all, right?”
They walked a few steps into Adrian’s. Chaz continued down the block. Sometimes prudence really was better. But then he pivoted, turning back. This time, not for the blood but for the want of simple human contact. Stopping in front of the steps, he hesitated again. There would only be one winner tonight, the blood, and for a moment that made him sad. He shook that off and walked through the door. They were standing in front of the bar like they were waiting for a table to the restaurant.
He walked over and ordered a glass of Cabernet and leaned on the wood as he took a small sip. He watched Stacy’s gaze soften as she leaned toward the sad woman.
“How are you holding up, Tori?”
A woman wearing expensive-smelling perfume approached him, and he tore his gaze away. Every pore on her face was filled with artifice, and he shook his head, making it clear he didn’t want to be picked up. Her lips thinned at the rebuff, but she turned around and went back to her friends while he focused on the conversation he wanted to hear.
“They say time heals. Some days it’s almost bearable. Some aren’t.”
He watched Stacy reach out and hug her friend, wishing he had someone that deeply invested in his well-being, someone close. Vampires were singular and very territorial. They had to be to survive.
While Stacy and the one she called Tori spoke together, the woman they called Kels turned to stare at him. Her brow lifted, her hips shifted so that the line of her leg drew his gaze. He palmed his chest and mouthed, “Who, me?”
She nodded, offering a sly, knowing smile. He took his time pushing off the wood of the bar and sauntered up to her, already feeling her claws dig deep. She entwined her arm with his, but Chaz had no interest and extricated himself with deft precision. He ignored her pout and flashed them all a huge grin.
“Good evening, ladies. I know this is incredibly forward of me, but might I buy you all a round while you wait? Charles Tower at your service.” He bowed, gracing them with the manners which had been proper in his time, and they hemmed and hawed, all except her. Stacy simply stared at him, assessing, head slightly cocked as she made her judgment. Funny, for the first time in just over a century, he didn’t want to be found lacking.
You can service me anytime.
How…unexpected. He nearly grinned. Then he heard, Where the hell did that come from? He wanted to ask the same question. Too bad this night was about need and not pleasure.
Kels, the dark-haired one who was all talk licked her lips like he was some kind of treat. She turned him off, much too full of herself to be inviting. Tori, the sad one, frowned and eyed him up and down a couple of times, her gaze filled with mistrust. He let her see what she wanted to see, someone normal, someone human, and she nodded slightly. Then he claimed the prize, sinking into that incredible crystalline blue gaze once more, made even more delectable by the doubts she expressed.
“Sir? What can I get you?”
He started and looked up, indicating that the ladies each give their order to the bartender. “Put it on my tab.”
Kels refused to give up, wedging her body into the tight space between the other women so that she separated him from her friends. Chaz steeled his features, daring her to touch him again. Her human instinct warned her, and she stepped back, allowing him to reach out and move Stacy away from getting stepped on. He trailed a light finger across Stacy’s skin as he let go, pleased to see her skin bead from his touch.
“Do you come here often?” She winced, and he held up his hand, feeling a touch of dismay. “I know. Lousy pick-up line, right?”
He cocked his head, gave her a rueful lift of the corner of his mouth, and let the truth ring through his words. “But I’ve been so overwhelmed by your presence that I don’t know what to say.”
She didn’t answer.
“Okay, that came out a bit too much, didn’t it?”
She nodded, and he drowned in her killer blues, which was hard to do for one already dead. “Shall I rephrase?”
She stared, disbelief filling her gaze as she shouted her thoughts. Make that more than once.
Outwardly determined and in control, that was very evident. But inside? How fascinating. “Perhaps I should start over?”
She still didn’t answer.
“You don’t talk very much, do you?”
Her gaze flitted from her hands to his chest and then after a deep breath, made eye contact. But at that moment, her shoulders squared and she gazed at him openly.
Her cheeks bloomed pink. “I work in a lab.” She half laughed. “The extent of my conversations run from who took an evidence bag to why the damned mass spec is down again.”
She tightened her fingers around her glass and stared down at her drink again. Is this really happening?
Now he couldn’t help himself as he grinned.
Look at the simple curl of his lip—the arch of his brow.
“Perhaps we could start with your name?”
Her heart sped up, and he could hear the rush of her blood in her veins. His mouth watered. Chaz swallowed, hating his reaction to her. She seemed nice, too nice to simply be used.
“Sorry.” Again, twin spots of pink tinged her cheeks. “Stacy. Stacy Morgan.” Nice going, dumb head. Probably thinks I’m sixteen now.
Actually, Chaz found the combination of her boldness and insecurity intriguing and decided to reassure her.
“I’m a bit rusty in the world of social gatherings myself,” he said.
She certainly made for an interesting combination. Supposedly she was some kind of scientist, her friends called her a cop, but she carried an innocence about her he hadn’t encountered in a very long time.
The bright light in her gaze dimmed with uncertainty. Chaz might be considered more human than his fellow vampires, but make no mistake, this moment was all about the blood and only could be about the blood.
“Me too. Umm, let me introduce you. This is Kelly.” Chaz wondered if his message had been clear enough. She shook his hand and let go quickly. “And this is Tori.” Her sad friend was much more reserved and much less trusting.
“Ladies? A pleasure to meet you both.” He inclined his head with a slight smile and leaned against the bar again. He picked up his glass, his gaze studying them over the rim. “This place is really busy tonight.”
Kelly agreed. “More than usual.”
Tori didn’t answer.
He turned his attention back to Stacy. “I gather you’re here to celebrate? Special occasion?”
“No,” she answered. “We try to meet up when we can.”
“Then I wouldn’t be tearing you away from your friends if I asked.”
Her nose scrunched up, making her glasses fall. She pushed them up with her finger. “Asked what?”
“Would you like to get out of here? Grab a bite?”
She gulped a deep draught of her drink then put her glass on the bar. He followed with his glass, still holding onto the bag of coffee. She seemed caught as she hesitated.
“Somewhere quieter? I can hardly hear myself think.”
Her heart began to flutter. “I’d like that.”
With a nod, the bartender came over, and he handed the young man a hundred-dollar bill. “For the tab and anything else they want.”
“Ladies? Again, a pleasure to meet you. I’ve given the bartender enough to cover your drinks and perhaps more. Stacy’s agreed to have dinner with me. So if you’ll excuse us?”
Are you kidding me? For real? Kelly practically shouted.
Tori was much more skeptical and cautious. She threw Stacy a look. He couldn’t help but hear her shout. If I don’t get a text from the restaurant, I’m calling the cavalry.
She had good friends. “Stacy, you won’t forget to send a text, will you? To let everyone know you’re safe?”
“Of course,” she answered, nodding, looking ready to roll her eyes, so Chaz led the way outside, blowing out a deep breath before he gave her a smile.
“Much quieter.”
She didn’t answer.
“You have some very good friends.”
“Sometimes they forget I can take care of myself.” A wisp of hair had loosened from her ponytail to frame her face. She blew it off her cheek with a sideways breath.
“I’m sure you can, but they also care about you.”
“A little too much, but I guess I shouldn’t complain. Certainly not to someone I’ve just met.”
He dipped his head, lifted a brow, and smiled. “Let’s make this a special occasion then. Our first meeting. The Chart House?”
She shifted her pocketbook strap on her shoulder, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “I’ve been there. That would be lovely.”
He inclined his head but drew his brows together as if he had a problem. “I have a favor to ask. Would you mind driving? My car is in the garage of my building. We’d have to walk a ways to get it. Or Uber.”
“Sure.” She turned, and Chaz followed, admiring the view before falling into step next to her. That long stride of hers nearly matched his. “You had everyone going, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“My friends. They’re not exactly subtle.”
He lifted his eyebrows, hoping he appeared ignorant or innocent, but she didn’t seem to buy it.
“Come on. You mean you didn’t see the drool all over the floor? Kelly tried to chain you to her.”
“That’s why I stood next to you. I’m not interested in the obvious.”
“Okay. So if I’m not obvious?” she asked, heading down another block. “What exactly am I?” She stopped next to a beat-up Jeep.
A word popped into his head, and he hated it immediately. “Intelligent. Strong. Beautiful.”
She tipped her chin, head tilted, eyes widened, and huffed. “Really?”
“Really,” he repeated. He climbed in the passenger side while she got in behind the steering wheel. As she put the key in the ignition, he covered her hand with his. Her gaze lifted, filled with confusion, anticipation, and a bit of curiosity. He leaned in and breathed in her scent, a heady mixture of expensive perfume and hormones. Her skin pebbled as he blew lightly on her cheek. Chaz heard the distinct rhythm of her heart as it hammered in her chest, which rose and fell with short rapid breaths.
His incisors grew, and he swiped a taste of her neck. Perfect.
She moaned as he bit down. God, she tasted sweet. Much more like dessert than a meal. He sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, and her heart slowed, pounding in his ears to the same rhythm as the city.
Chaz.
He reared back away from her neck. Had he taken too much? Horror filled his gut. No, her flesh was still warm, pulse low and steady, eyes closed.
Thank God.
He leaned over again and bit down, but this time it was to give her the Lethe, the drug that would make her forget he ever existed. He admired her beauty one last time, then reached in her purse and found her driver’s license, committing her address to memory. Shouldn’t have done that, Charles. He climbed out of the car and placed the bag of coffee in the crook of her arm. She would wake up in about an hour or so and not remember a thing.
Damn. That sucked.
***
Chaz walked home deep in thought. He couldn’t get Stacy out of his head. He replayed every moment they spent together, and then he remembered a small detail he must have disregarded. She was a scientist and a cop? What if she could help him understand what was happening to his people, why there were more rogues now than he’d seen in the last three hundred years? The idea tantalized. Then his stomach hollowed. He’d be putting her in grave danger. The Council would never allow a human to know about them.
But she was strong. A police officer. She’d be able to stand up to The Council.
And if they decided to end her life anyway?
Chaz shuddered. Then his cell phone buzzed. He stared at the number and smiled. “Pitch?”
“Charles Tower, as I live and breathe.”
“You don’t.”
“Semantics.”
“Captain Pritchard. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’m at your place. Apparently, you’re not.”
Chaz smiled. “I will be in two or three minutes. It’s been a long time. You slumming?”
“Uh, no.” Pitch hesitated.
“What’s going on?”
“When you get here, Chaz. When you get here.”
Pitch wanted to talk in private? His stomach clenched. He walked as fast as he dared without attracting too much attention and made it home in two minutes.
With the sun having set, a chill breeze picked up, adding to his unease. A police siren sounded in the distance, reminding him of his duty to protect, making him wonder if there was another rogue they needed to put down. Pitch pushed off the wall and stepped out of the shadows when he arrived at his building. Black hair pulled into a knot at the nape of his neck, slight of build, but with a wiry strength and determination that just wouldn’t quit, Pitch was the one vampire Chaz would always want guarding his back.
He clapped his friend on the shoulder, gave him a quick hug, and opened the door. “Smells like you just fed.”
Her address was a burned tattoo inside his brain. “I did. Do you need to go out and come back?”
“Nah. If I leave, I’m not planning on coming back. You feel me, bro?”
Chaz winced. There was something out and out wrong about a Colonial Army Captain trying to mimic modern slang. He stepped into the elevator, and Pitch followed. Still curious and out of sorts from wishing he was with Stacy and not Pitch, he didn’t say anything. He opened the door to his loft and walked up to a credenza, opened a drawer, and pulled out a key, which he threw to his friend. “In case you need a place to crash.”
“Thanks.”
Turning, he pinned his friend with a stern stare. “Okay. So what’s going on?”
Pitch rubbed the back of his neck and started to pace. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I’m worried about Mick.”
Chaz snorted then let out the laughter he tried to hold in.
“I know. I know,” Pitch answered. “I’m crazy, right? But I’m really worried about him.” Pitch stopped pacing, and his brows drew together and two creases furrowed his forehead. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for two weeks. He’s not answering my calls or texts. So I went by his place. Doesn’t look like he’s been there in a while.”
“He’s been off the grid before.”
“Yeah, but if I’m a real pain in the ass, he’ll answer. Eventually. Not only have I tried him like three or four times a night, I even checked out his cottage up in Vermont. No sign of him.”
A chill crept down Chaz’s neck. He dismissed it immediately, as the idea of the three laws and that robot movie filled his head. Vampires had their three laws also.
Vampire rule number one stated a vampire may drink but were forbidden to drain a human to death. Rule two: humans must never know vampires exist, and every human must be given Lethe, so they never remember anything after a vampire has fed. Included in this rule was an edict that, unless a vampire was willing to put his life on the line to defend his actions, he dared not turn a human into a vampire. A long time ago, Chaz figured that was because there weren’t that many humans walking the earth. Now he figured this was to continue to safeguard their anonymity.
The final rule, the most important, Chaz believed, was that a vampire should not drink from another vampire. Ever. Drinking from another vampire created a connection for as long as their eternity lasted. Before Pitch was born, Chaz and Mick had been forced to drink from each other to stay alive. Chaz would’ve known if Mick was in trouble.
A chill settled on the back of his neck anyway. “Mick is a big boy. He’s been taking care of himself way longer than we’ve been around.”
Pitch waved his hand, dismissing Chaz’s explanation. “I know. But this…this feels different.”
“What do you mean, different?”
“Well, for one,” he paused, glancing at the bottles of wine in the rack. “You gonna offer me a drink?”
Chaz walked over to his bar and poured them both a small glass of wine. Pitch chugged his. That chill on his neck turned ice cold. “The last time I talked to Mick, he sounded, well, I know you’re not going to believe it, but he sounded concerned. Anxious, even. And we both know that’s just not Mick.”
What? How was that possible? Why didn’t he know? Oh shit. What the hell was going on? Chaz sipped on his wine to cover his angst. “Did he say why?”
Pitch stared down at his glass like he wanted ten more. Chaz knew what kind of pain that caused. “Got mad and told me to quit bugging him, that I’d know what was going on when I needed to.”
Chaz nodded. “Well, that sounds like Mick, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Except that was the last time I talked to him. Over two weeks ago.”
When Chaz clapped his friend on the shoulder, Pitch looked up. His gaze was filled with worry. “Listen. You need to feed. I’ll check around. Try and find him, although we both know if Mick doesn’t want to be found…”
Pitch nodded.
“Let’s touch base tomorrow night, okay?”
“Hey, look,” Pitch said. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid. But he’s like a father to me.”
“To us all.”
He walked Pitch to the front door and gave his friend a quick hug. “He’s probably doing it on purpose ‘cause you’ve been bugging him.”
“God, I hope so.” He punched Chaz in the shoulder and straightened as if the weight on his back lessened. “Thanks, man.”
“And not a word to Ozzie or the others yet.”
Pitch nodded. “No need worrying them.”
“Agreed.” Chaz smiled. “Next time, let’s go hunting together. Like the old days.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. I’m glad you stopped by.” But as Chaz shut the door, he knew he was lying. Mick had sent him a file a couple of days ago that made no sense. Pictures of an abandoned estate up in New York. No message. Just the pictures.
What the hell are you doing, Mick? And why aren’t you talking to me?
A few hours later, Chaz was still trying to figure out what was going on when his phone buzzed. He read the number, and relief flooded his veins. “What the hell, Mick? You’ve had Pitch going crazy. Even had me worried.”
Silence. Then a voice whispered. “Help me.”
CHAPTER TWO
Chaz
What the devil? “Mick?” It didn’t sound like him. “For the love of God, Mick. Talk to me. Please.”
Silence.
Chaz stopped his fist just in time before he shattered the laptop on his desk. He waited. And waited. And finally, dead air, and the tell-tale beep-beep that said the call had disconnected.
Vampires never experience nausea, but right at this moment, he could swear his stomach churned. He went back to the pictures, trying to glean any kind of information from them. His thoughts shouted in his brain.
Call me back, Mick. Talk to me. Please.
Again. Silence.
He paced, raking his hand through his hair, hating their connection. With Mick, it tended to be all one-sided. His. And yet he couldn’t get away from the awful feeling that Mick was in terrible trouble and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
He’d met Nicholai Alexander Mikhail Kirilenko in the kingdom of Poland in 1223 AD. Chaz had been a vampire for over one hundred years, and truth be told, not very good at it. Mick explained in his singular dry humor that draining people even though he didn’t kill them, was very counterproductive to their existence, and that Chaz could manage the hunger if he tried. Mick said he’d learned some things from the people in China, things like meditation that could help with the thirst. Chaz couldn’t fathom it until they journeyed to Asia sixty years later.
Chaz threw himself back in his chair. He rubbed his face. He stared at his hands, long fingers, pale skin, the hands of a killer, the hands of a Paladin.
They were all Paladins, the protectors who kept rogue vampires from killing anyone or anything carrying blood, each unique in his or her own way. It wasn’t like Mick was taciturn, like Ozzie. Or mean spirited, the way Vanessa made herself seem sometimes. Mick simply didn’t talk much unless he was teaching. He was a quiet man, thoughtful, intelligent, and yes, irascible. But there wasn’t a Paladin among them that didn’t love the old man deep inside their hearts.
Mick? Where are you?
A picture flashed in his head. A long blonde ponytail. The curve of a hip he’d never forget. What? Wait a minute.
Mick. What the hell?
Mick laughed, and the hairs lifted on the back of his neck. Chaz had no idea what was going on but he had never been able to see Mick’s thoughts before, only hear them, and Mick never laughed like that. His mentor sounded like he’d lost his mind. If so, then Stacy was in danger.
I don’t understand. But whatever is going on with you, please don’t hurt her. Don’t do this.
Vignettes flashed through his brain, randomly scattered pieces of the past. Some he recognized. Some he didn’t. He grabbed his keys and threw on a jacket, not for the cold, but for the hidden tools of his profession—the extract, a long silver-handled knife with an edge so sharp it could cut through bone, a steel stake with a vicious point at the end. And then he realized. Chaz had no idea where to go.
He ran down to his car anyway. One hundred and thirty-eight. Confused, Chaz didn’t understand. All of his instincts screamed at him to throw the car in drive to go somewhere, anywhere. Instead, he centered his being and let the world fall away.
Tell me more, Mick.
One hundred and thirty-five.
Chaz pounded his fist on the steering wheel. A loud crack brought him back to reality. He stared at the leather-covered plastic and was grateful it wasn’t hanging in pieces.
What the hell was Mick trying to tell him? He was counting out, oh shit, of course. Numbers.
Chaz punched the ignition button, and the engine roared to life. His tires screeched and his nose wrinkled at the smell of burnt rubber as his car sped out of the garage.
He headed onto 78W and then got on the Garden State Parkway heading south. Mick was reading road signs.
Come on, old friend. You’re stronger than this. Whatever it is, you need to fight it. Let me help you fight it.
Sweeeeeet….taaaassssttte.
Chaz didn’t have to ask who; he already knew. His fingers trembled. Mick had always had secrets, but he’d never been coy about them. Belligerent? Unbearably so. So his behavior didn’t make sense. Normally Mick would’ve told him to go fuck off by now. And the only true vibe he’d gotten from his friend was about blood.
“A rogue loses all capacity to reason as the fever progresses. Remember that, my young friend,” Mick had told him decades ago. “The need becomes all-consuming. And if a rogue vampire marks a human, he’ll stop at nothing to drain that human dry. He’ll travel to the end of the earth to taste that blood. For that will be the last blood he drinks before death.”
Please no. Don’t let it be true.
Chaz gripped the steering wheel even tighter. He shifted in his seat. The miles sped by. Red Bank. Seaside. All of a sudden, his heart dropped. He knew where Mick was going. Her address filled his vision. His foot stomped down on the gas pedal. Finally, he pulled off at exit fifty-nine and, following his nav system, drove as fast as he dared to her house. There was no sign of her car or Mick. Then he picked up an image—a bar by the bay.
His tires kicked gravel everywhere as he wheeled the car around. He sped down the road, following the familiar thick and dank scent of the bay. Up ahead, he spied the semi-lit billboard of O’Reilly’s Bar. His tires screeched to a halt as he slammed on his brakes. He threw open the car door and scrambled out.
A different scent filled his nostrils, one he knew all too well. For a human, death has no smell until the body begins to fester. But for a vampire, the end of life was decay, piece by piece, bit by bit, until all that was left was the rotted remains. Mick wasn’t Mick anymore. His hair lay matted, and greasy flaky tendrils hung limply to his shoulders. Flesh, unable to keep its composure, sloughed off in raw patches from his face making his mentor barely recognizable. Chaz recoiled at the putrid stench; Mick was decomposing right before his eyes.
Chaz had never seen any vampire this far gone rogue and still left stand standing.
“Put your hands up where I can see them, and don’t move!” Stacy commanded. She stood, feet braced, arms extended, the handle of her gun firmly gripped in both hands, ready to fire.
“Whatever you do,” Chaz warned. “Please, do not fire your weapon.”
She hesitated.
“Mikhail,” he said. “Listen to me. You’re better than this. Try to remember who you are. You’re a Paladin. You know what you have to do.” He paused, having no idea how this was all going to go down. “Please. I beg of you. Don’t give in to the madness.”
Stacy’s gaze followed the creature’s every move. Creature? To call the one man he named his father a creature? He watched her make sure the muzzle of her gun never wavered from his heart—Mick’s heart. Only Mick wasn’t a man anymore. He was…oh God…a thing. And the thing Chaz chose to call a man shifted from foot to foot, and crouched like an animal waiting to strike.
He tried to move slowly so that his body came between Mick and Stacy. Only, Stacy kept circling to keep her gun trained on Mick.
“What the hell is going on here? Is this some kind of horror movie?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he spoke to…it. “Mick. You need to go to Sanctuary. Please.”
“Charlessss,” the thing hissed.
Like fingernails on a blackboard, the long talons sprouting from Mick’s hands scraped against the macadam. Droplets of what looked like old blood, dark and brown, splattered the fabric of what was left of his shirt.
“Mick. Please. If you have any humanity left inside, stop this insanity. Go to the caves. Don’t make me kill you.”
Man? Sunken cheeks, lips drawn back in a grotesque caricature, were proof that whatever-it-was in front of him, it certainly was not a man. “Mikhail. Friend. Mentor.” Each word filled the air with heart-wrenching anguish.
The creature lifted its head. The words found their mark. “You taught me how to accept my life,” Chaz continued. The agony in his belly dug deep. “You taught me there was integrity in what I’d become. Don’t make me erase that goodness. Please.”
With the ocean not far away, a foggy night thickened with clammy cold air. Chaz shivered as a gust of wind brought a fresh wave of salty decay to his nostrils. A murky haze seemed to settle around them, making everything slow down.
Short, staccato breaths left Stacy’s mouth in rapid succession. “Wait a minute. You know this…thing?” For a split second, her gaze flew to his. “What are you?”
“The only thing keeping you alive.”
“Comforting.”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Mick, if you want to die on your own terms, then let her go. No collateral damage.”
“Collateral damage? Really?”
Chaz watched Stacy stiffen, arms steady as she took aim. Her fingers tightened around the butt of her gun, and she inhaled. In the time it took her to release that breath, Chaz turned, sprinting over to the corner of the bar, pulled a vent pipe off the building and then charged, using the pipe like a baseball bat, swinging so hard he thought the muscles in his neck would break from the strain.
Mick staggered and fell, screaming in pain.
“Stacy. Run!”
“Not on your life,” she cried, holding her ground.
Mick shook his head and lifted into a crouch. A wave of foul decay filled his nostrils, dank, and putrid. Stacy coughed and choked just as affected.
“Get out of here now!”
“No!”
“You don’t understand,” Chaz said. “A terrible craving is tearing at his insides. Mick can hear your heart race, feel your blood pump. You’re the one he wants. Not me.”
“Feel my blood pump?”
Mick balanced on all fours ready to spring. His lips drew back in a feral snarl. Long sharp incisors hung over his bottom lip, unable to retract anymore. He stalked towards her.
“What the hell?”
Time to get her out of here. Only there was a huge problem. Mick stood between her and her car. She could run into the bar, but that would only put the two humans inside in danger. “Run! Run into the complex.”
Suddenly, Mick stopped moving. Dank, filthy tendrils of hair swung as he whipped his head around. The click of the handle sounded at the same time. A door opened and closed with a bang.
“Stacy. Shoot. Shoot now!”
She hesitated. Mick twisted, first towards the sound, and then towards her. And then it hit him—the sound of another human heart. Still beating normally as the person it belonged to had no idea the danger they were in.
“For the love of God, Stacy. Fire!”
She pulled the trigger, and her revolver exploded. Three shots in rapid succession, yet Mick still half-stood there even though his left shoulder flew backward with the force of her bullets. All three. Straight into its heart. If he had one left.
Just as a tiger can lie placid on the grass so it can leap and kill its prey in mere seconds, so could Mick. Or whatever Mick had become. He gathered and bunched and vaulted for Stacy. So did Chaz, landing on his back. Rooted to the spot, he realized Stacy could only stare as Chaz pulled back Mick’s head, yanked open his mouth, and tried to pour the extract inside.
Mick wasn’t having any of that and threw Chaz off him with a mighty swipe of his arm. The guard, hearing the commotion, came charging into the parking lot. Chaz scrambled to his feet. “Get back!” he yelled to the guard. “Get away from here! Run!”
Mick couldn’t make up his mind. Two human hearts thundered. Chaz ran to protect Stacy as the guard tried to scramble away. Stacy raised her revolver again. Before she could get off another shot, Mick lunged, tackled the guard, grabbed his collar, and tried to run. Chaz bolted after Mick and jumped on his back. He wrapped his arm around Mick’s neck to pour more extract, but Mick swiped his arm away. Mick threw him off his back, dropped the man, and sprinted away.
Chaz ran back to the guard and knelt down. Blood began pouring out of a wound in the guard’s neck. How fitting that Mick would use the last of his humanity to put him between a rock and a hard place. For he was going to have to try to save the guard while Stacy watched.
And he was going to have to try not to drain the man dry.
***
Chaz lapped at the wound, hoping he could seal it. But it was pretty deep and very close to the man’s carotid artery. Funny that even at a time like this, he could notice the subtle difference in taste. Stacy’s blood was brighter, cleaner. This man’s was deeper, earthier. He couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking at the moment, all he could hear were words and phrases jumbled together. Even as he tried to get the wound to close, he drank, hating himself for his weakness.
There was a chance this man might die. Sometimes, in order to save a life, a Paladin had to take a life. That was his duty. Even though he felt remorse, his feelings didn’t matter. Mick was so far gone rogue, he could kill hundreds before Chaz was able to stop him.
He heard Stacy approach with hesitant steps. He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the horror in her gaze, the fear, the realization that he was a monster and not a man. He did anyway and found he was right, except there was still that underlying curiosity in her gaze that gave him hope, hope that she might believe he was still a man.
She fell to her knees beside the guard. Her thoughts raged through his skull with the precision of fine cut steel. She couldn’t comprehend what just happened and couldn’t equate that to what he was. She wanted to help the man lying on the ground, but more than that, she wanted to get him far away from the guard.
Chaz didn’t have time for human fear. He had a rogue to follow. He rose and scanned the parking lot. The trail wasn’t hard to find. Drops of blood like the breadcrumbs in a fairy tale dotted the pavement. He became a bloodhound, half walking, half- running as he followed. And then he realized, Mick had circled back. He was going after Stacy.
In the time it took for him to reach the bar parking lot, he found them both. Stacy didn’t have time to even draw a breath as she turned. Mick lifted her up off her knees by the neck to bring her flesh to his mouth. Chaz didn’t think. He leaped and pulled out his knife, slashing at the hand that held her. She fell to the pavement coughing and gasping for air, the sounds music to his ears. She was still alive, for a grip like that could’ve snapped her neck in two.
Mick howled in agony. Chaz crouched as they circled one another. He feinted with one hand and threw the knife into the other and lunged. Mick knew the trick. He sidestepped and swiped at Chaz, long talons tearing at the flesh of his stomach.
Chaz groaned with the pain but never let his focus wander. His left arm now cradled his belly, but his right still held the knife. Mick lifted his own wrist to his mouth and sucked and sucked then lapped at the wound.
How did he know to do that? Could there still be some of Mick inside? Somewhere? “Charlessss,”
“Let me make it quick. One stroke of the blade, and you can be at peace. Think, man, think. You don’t want to hurt people. You spent your life protecting them.”
Chaz lunged again. He missed Mick’s heart but caught him in the shoulder, feeling flesh and muscle tear as he yanked the knife free.
Mick screamed this time. Chaz choked on the decay. But that split second of lost focus gave Mick the chance to charge Stacy. Chaz didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He threw himself between them just as Stacy fired her weapon. He felt the bullet pierce his shoulder first, before the burning tear of his flesh, then the crunch of landing on the ground. Air whooshed from his lungs, his head spun, his midsection curled in upon itself for protection.
Mick faltered. Whatever humanity was left inside, the vampire stopped him from finishing Chaz off. Mick froze. Perhaps it was the shock of trying to kill Chaz; perhaps it was the last of the principles he held so dear. No matter the reason, Mick turned and ran off, disappearing—once again—into the darkness.
Heavens above, the pain.
She ran over and fell to her knees beside him. How wonderful the human spirit. “Oh, no. Oh, no. I just shot you.” Her hands fluttered over his body. “Oh God, I’m sorry. You got in the way. Why did you do that? You shouldn’t have gotten in the way. I had him. Dead to rights. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.”
Amazing. Even now, she called Mick a him instead of an it.
A wave of searing hot agony as painful as his own misery spread from his side to his middle then rolled back again. He moaned. “Listen to me. Please.”
She stilled. “Yes. Yes. What?”
“Too late.”
“Pat! Mike! Over here!”
She called them Pat and Mike. They came running out of the bar. “Stacy. We heard something like a—holy shit. It was gunshots.”
“He’s hurt. Badly. Got in the way. Call an ambulance. NOW!”
“NO!”
She whipped her head around and stared at him. “But I shot you…the security guard.”
A terrible sadness filled him. With his injuries, he couldn’t possibly move fast enough so that she wouldn’t have a ringside seat to watch what he was about to do. He rose to his knees, gulping air, and used her shoulder like a brace to stand. He targeted the older man first as he wouldn’t be as strong.
He grabbed the man’s arm and pulled his wrist to his mouth. Humans have an incredible instinct for survival that he’d always marveled at. The older man brought his free fist down to punch Chaz’s back and pull away. Using his own free hand, Chaz stopped the man and held him still.
Blood, warm and sweet, filled his body. The man weakened as he sucked and swallowed. In the remaining few seconds before the younger man dove at them, Chaz gave the older man the Lethe. He tore away but not before Stacy got a good look at what he truly was.
He really hated that look on her face.
With fresh blood in his system, energy zipped through his body. That energy enabled him to pin the younger man up against the wall of the bar. A wave of pure need buckled his knees as he sank his incisors into the man’s neck.
Blood. Always the blood. Every time he fed, he faced the question of whether to kill or not to kill, and he always answered the same. Chaz reared back. He repeated his vow as he had thousands and thousands of times before.
I will not kill again.
He gave the younger man the drug, lapped at his wounds to seal them, and stepped back.
Turning, he found that Stacy had already pulled out her cell phone. He plucked the phone out of her hand and put it in his pocket. Her mouth opened in surprise. So many thoughts were racing through her mind; it was like the flow of a swift-moving stream. In a way, he was glad. He didn’t want to have to explain anything at the moment.
Brushing past her, he went back to the young man and lifted him in his arms. The best place to leave both of them now was the bar.
Pain laced through his shoulder. A gunshot was harder to heal than other wounds, even with the fresh blood zinging through his system. He put the younger one on top of the bar and stepped out into the parking lot again. Her feet were braced. Her gun pointed right at his heart.
And she stood over the body of the elder gentleman ready to protect until her dying breath.
“Who are you?”
“Charles Tower.” He started to laugh at the absurdity of his next action. He bowed as he would have during his day. “At your service.”
“What are you?”
Now that was harder to answer. What did they call them these days? “Your worst nightmare.”
“I got that already. What did you do to Mike?” Her chin lifted, so he realized that would be the young man on the bar.
“He’s on the bar. When he awakens, he’ll be absolutely fine.”
She looked down at the man lying at her feet. “And Pat?”
“The same.”
But she didn’t lose focus. How…police-like of her. She kept the gun trained on him every time he moved. “What did you just do to them?”
“Do you really want to know?”
His question seemed to catch her by surprise. The thoughts and words inside her that kept cascading down that streambed began to slow. She hesitated, wiping her chin against her shoulder. He felt her pain, which surprised him. She winced, and he moved closer, but she shook her head. “Uh-uh. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Then her mind kicked into gear. “You need to give me my cell back so I can call an ambulance for that man over there.” She pointed to the guard.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” Chaz listened carefully. He barely registered a heartbeat.
“Do it now!” She started circling him, trying to get closer to the guard.
“You don’t understand. I can’t.” This was one night he was going to regret for a millennium.
“Or won’t?”
“Both.” The heartbeat grew fainter. “Look. Keeping me talking isn’t going to help the situation. Nor is calling an ambulance. They won’t be in time. He’s dying, I’m afraid. He must be bleeding internally.”
“I’m only going to ask one more time. Then I’m going to shoot you for real.”
The guard’s heart stopped beating. Chaz stepped back and allowed her access. She ran to the guard and knelt, feeling for a pulse for quite some time before she sat back on her heels in defeat.
“I’m sorry,” Chaz said.
“You’re sorry? I just put three bullets into the heart of a nightmare, an innocent man is dead, you wouldn’t let me help him, and you’re sorry?”
“I don’t normally regret my actions, but it seems I involved you in something you should never have been involved in. For that, I am truly sorry.”
She rose. “An apology isn’t going to bring that man back to life.”
“An apology isn’t going to bring Mick back either,” he exploded. “But I was able to save your life. And theirs. Barely.”
“Not the security guard.”
Chaz sighed. “Collateral damage.”
She huffed. “Collateral damage?” she asked. “How cold of you.” She swallowed. “One last time. Give me my cell phone.”
“You’re going to call the police. I can’t allow that to happen.”
Chaz shook his head. He watched her finger close around the trigger. Not wanting to get shot again, he snatched the gun out of her grip. He threw the offending weapon down towards the complex where it skittered against the macadam, finally sliding to a halt hundreds of yards away.
Relentless. Dangerous. Beautiful. Chaz hauled her up against his body. He had no other way to stop her without doing possible damage. So he pulled back her head, exposed her neck, sank his incisors into her sweet flesh, and drank until she passed out. He gave her the Lethe, but this time, he had no idea if it would take or not. He’d never done it twice in one night.
Laying her gently on the ground, Chaz pulled out his cell and hit speed dial. “Pitch?”
“Did you find him?”
“I’m afraid so. And you’re not going to like it.”
CHAPTER THREE
Stacy
Stacy needed a drink. No, make that a bar filled with drinks. She looked around. Well, at the very least, she was exactly where she needed to be. She was in O’Reilly’s, sitting in a corner, propped up by the back of a booth. Strange. She remembered driving here. She remembered a bag of coffee and wondering where she’d gotten it from. But it smelled really good when she’d opened the flap so she figured she’d picked it up and forgotten she did.
She looked down to find the remnants of a meal she didn’t recall eating. God, what the hell did Pat give her? Supercharged cabernet? One minute, her head seemed straight, the next, it seemed to float somewhere between Venus and Mars.
She tried to sit up, and the entire room spun. Damn. Drunk? Maybe she didn’t need those drinks after all. Was that possible? Oh hell. She could swear she only had half a glass. She lifted up real slow and looked around. No Pat. No Mike.
“Hey, Pat? What the hell? Did you spike my drink?”
No answer. That was strange. Maybe they were in the back or downstairs and couldn’t hear her. “Yo! Pat! Mike! Where are you?”
Concern filled her but from a place very far away. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. She tried to shake the murkiness from her head, but that turned out to be a bad move. Her stomach rolled over.
Okay, so maybe it was time to go easy and work her way over to the doorway. Of course, walking turned out to be harder than she thought, but she was finally able to get her wobbly sea-legs under her and wove her way toward the back room and downstairs.
“Hey, Mike? Pat? Somebody?”
Still no answer. And she didn’t see anyone. So she made her way to the front door. And that was when she heard voices coming from the parking lot.
“Took you long enough to get here.”
“I came as fast as I could. I didn’t want to deal with a state trooper or a cop.”
“I know.”
Voice number one let out a huge sigh. “It was Mick. He’s gone rogue.”
“Rogue, as in dying rogue?”
“’Fraid so. Can’t you smell it?”
Voice number two exhaled hard. “Yeah, I can smell it.” Was that pain in voice number two? “I can’t…no, I don’t want to believe it’s true. He wasn’t old enough.”
“It is, Pitch. And you’re right. So we’re going to have some digging to do. But right now, we’ve got a lot to cover up. There’s a security guard over there that’s dead.”
“Oh great,” voice number two muttered.
“And three humans, one’s inside the bar, that I had to drug.”
Drug?
“Was one of them a woman?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I found this over there.” Dead silence. Then three words filled with horror. “Oh. God. No.”
“He has her scent, Chaz.” Chaz? Why was that name familiar to her? “He’ll come after her, won’t he?”
“His last human. Yes, he won’t rest until he gets her.”
Last human? What the hell was this, some kind of horror movie?
“Chaz, it’s Mick. Do you really think after all that he’s done to protect humans, he’ll try to kill her?”
“Yes.” Voice number one sounded determined. “But I’ll stop him first.”
Voice number two let out an agonizing wail, and a shiver coasted down her back.
“Pitch, listen to me. You have to screw your head back on. You can grieve tomorrow. Right now, we have until dawn to clean this mess up. I need your help.” A crash-thud rocked the entire building. “Including fixing the hole you just put in the wall.”
A hole in the building?
Stacy closed her eyes. She needed to screw her head back on too. None of this made any sense at all. She dug her fingers into the wood of the doorjamb and forced herself upright. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked out into the parking lot.
Reaching down, she went to pull out her gun. And that was when she realized she no longer had it in her possession, but one of the men she faced did.
***
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Both men started. The one with her pistol reminded her of a young Sean Connery but with light brown hair and less intense eyes. The one without her pistol reminded her of Collin Farrell but with a rounder face and thinner eyebrows. Both were gorgeous, but there was also something deadly about them. Without her weapon, Stacy was simply going to have to brazen this one out if she could.
“That’s…impossible,” the dark one muttered.
“Twice in one night. Maybe not so impossible as you’d think.”
Was he talking to his compatriot or her? “Twice in one night…what?”
The dark-haired one shook his head. “You’re right. I’ve never seen an evening go so wrong in all my life. Tell you what, I’ll deal with the guard. You deal with her, okay? I’ll notify Ozzie and the rest of the Paladin about Mick. Do you think we should tell Sam what went down?”
Paladin? What was a Paladin? And who was Sam?
The lighter-haired one considered the question a moment. “No. Not yet. Besides, this is Hunter’s territory. He should be notified first. If we need to. You take care of the security guard. And I’ll…I’ll…I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet,” he said, turning and glaring her way. “But I’ll figure it out.”
The darker-haired one nodded. “Good luck with that. And don’t bother trying to find me later on tonight. Depending on how I feel, maybe I’ll find you.”
“I understand.” They clasped hands and clapped backs, then the dark-haired one simply walked off down towards the complex.
“What the hell is going on here?”
He held out his arm to guide her back into the bar. “I’ll explain inside.”
“No, you’ll explain now. And you’ll give me back my gun.” He certainly looked skeptical about doing that. Then she turned her head. There was a fist-sized hole gouged out of the brick. Who the hell could do that with a bare hand?
“Or what?”
“Excuse me?” She shook her head again, and the world tilted. She lost her balance, and he grabbed her elbow to steady her. But being near him allowed an idea. She reached out and grabbed her gun, backing away as fast as she could. The asphalt rolled like she was in a wave machine. He took the pistol back, but this time held it with two fingers, barrel facing down.
“I promise I won’t hurt you. Please let me get you inside so you can sit down. I don’t want you to fall and crack your head.”
Her mind felt as convoluted as the moving floor. “Where’s Pat? And Mike?”
“I took them home, so they’d be more comfortable when they woke up.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. When that didn’t work, she tried closing her eyes. She couldn’t focus. Okay, this had to be a dream. And a bad one at that.
He grabbed her elbow again, this time not letting go. She tried to break away, then she tried to snatch her gun again. “Will you please stop?” he exploded. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He drew in a deep breath and expelled the air in a heartfelt hiss. “Technically, I saved your life just now.”
“Saved my life?” The earth beneath her feet rolled, and his fingers tightened. “What are you talking about?”
Stacy moaned, more from confusion than misery, but he seemed to mistake her intent, for he picked her up in one fluid movement and carried her back into O’Reilly’s. As he walked, Stacy caught a whiff of a familiar cologne and wondered how that was possible. The only men’s cologne she’d had the pleasure of not enjoying was her co-worker Dan’s, and he reeked of it. But better that than the alternative.
“Put me down, please.”
He complied, placing her down in the same booth where she’d awakened.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Why’d you have to take Pat and Mike home? Why is there a hole in the bricks of the building about the size of my fist? Who’s Pitch? Who’s Mick? And for the love of Pete, what happened here?”
He pulled out a chair from the table next to him, swung it around, sat down backward, and folded his arms on the back. “How do you want your reality? Small bites or large doses?”
“Is this some kind of joke or prank or something? Did Pat and Mike put you up to this?”
His features turned grave, and his shoulders slumped. “Trust me, no joke. No prank.”
Her hand fluttered to her brow, and concern filled his soft brown gaze.
“Are you all right?”
“I could swear I’ve been drugged, but I have no idea how that would be possible.”
He rose and walked behind the bar, returning with a glass of cold water. “Thank you.” Stacy gulped half the glass before she stopped. Her stomach rolled a couple of times then stilled.
“My name is Charles Tower. You were attacked. Pat and Mike came out to help. They got a little beat up trying to defend you. Neither one wanted to go to the hospital, so I told them I’d keep an eye on you and on the bar until you woke up. You hit the pavement pretty hard, but I don’t think you have a concussion. They said you would be able to lock up?”
“Yeah, I can. Did you say something about a security guard being dead? Or was I just dreaming that? Because if that was the case, and I got attacked and someone got killed, this place should be swarming with cops.”
“It is, in a manner of speaking. Or it will be soon.”
What? “Sorry. I don’t understand. Who are you? FBI or something?”
“Or something,” he muttered. “You’re very lucky you’re not dead. But I’m afraid I’m not.”
“How’s that?”
He held up a glove. Her glove. “Hey, where’d you get that?”
“You dropped them in the scuffle.”
“Where’s the other one?”
“In the possession of the man who tried to kill you.”
“Kill me?” Stacy rubbed her face with her hands, trying to get the world to solidify. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would someone want to kill me?”
No matter how gorgeous or incredible the man across from her looked, he could get real serious in a hurry. His body snapped to attention, back ramrod straight, brows drawing together to become a straight line. “Because I involved you in something I shouldn’t have involved you in. Not your fault or mine, just bad luck.”
Bad luck? That was one way of putting things when your life was supposedly on the line. Which she wasn’t sure she believed. Still, he didn’t seem like he was trying to hide anything from her.
“Involved in something,” she repeated. “Would you mind telling me what?” Stacy looked down at her watch, then back up at him. “Because as sure as I am that the sun is going to rise in a few hours, I know Pat would never leave this bar unattended unless he was on his deathbed, or if Mike was here. So you’d better start talking and fast.”
He opened his mouth then snapped it shut. He cocked his head, seeming to judge her. “Okay. You want the truth? Here it is. You were attacked by a rogue because I drank from you. This rogue is the only real father I’ve ever known. He picked up one of your gloves in the parking lot, and he’s marked you as his last. He has your scent, and won’t stop until he gets you.”
Was she missing something here? Because not one word he said made sense. “Rogue? Drank? What the hell are you talking about?”
He drew in a breath that seemed almost painful. “Before I answer, I’m going to do something I shouldn’t.” He lifted her gun out of the waistband of his pants and placed it on the table. Stacy noted the safety was on, but that problem could be easily remedied. “You should know that a bullet, even two or three, will hurt me but not kill me. And should you decide upon that route, I won’t appreciate being hurt. Not at all.”
Oh, man. This guy really believes what he’s saying. Maybe I should play along.
“There’s no need to play along. And yes, I’m completely sincere.”
“What the hell? How did you know what I was thinking?”
He didn’t skip a beat, just kept talking like they were having an every-day conversation. “I can hear your thoughts within short distances. Most of the time, I don’t want to. Too many human thoughts are like a discordant symphony, they grate on my nerves.”
“Right.” Hear thoughts? The next thing that’s going to happen is that Robert Pattinson is going to walk into the bar, followed by none other than Kristen Stewart.
“You’re not that far off,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
He seemed to be fighting with himself, shifting in his chair like he wanted to get up then sit down. His fingers alternately clenched the wood of the back of the chair then let go, and each time that happened, his knuckles turned white from the strain. Or were they always that pale?
“A rogue is an out of control vampire.”
Stacy couldn’t help herself. Boiled up laughter spilled out. She picked up the gun and flipped the safety. “An out of control vampire,” she repeated. “Really?” She caught what looked like hurt in his gaze before his face shuttered completely.
“Not a joke.”
“Sorry.” Stacy pushed her hair off her face with her free hand. “Not every day you get told a vampire wants to kill you. So I need to know. Who set this up?”
He frowned. “Fine. Don’t take me seriously. But you need to understand that this rogue has marked you. He has your scent, and he won’t stop chasing you until he drains you dry.”
“Wow.” She sat back and grinned. “You really are awesome. I mean, you should be on Broadway. The big screen. Damn.”
“I’m not acting.” He jumped up from the chair, raking his hand through his hair. “And I’m not joking.”
“C’mon,” she said. “I gotta know. Who put you up to this? Who paid you? Kelly?”
“You mean the brunette with the attitude?” Chaz asked.
“I knew it! I knew it! Wait until I get my hands on her.” Stacy lowered the gun and flipped the safety back on.
When she looked up, Stacy found his shoulders slumped, and his body deflated like a dying balloon.
“How the hell am I going to make you understand? I’m not kidding.”
Her phone rang. He pulled her cell out of his jacket and handed it to her. Her brain clicked back into gear, and she began to assess. Too nicely dressed to be in a bar like O’Reilly’s, and Boss cologne had no place in a world of brine.
Her finger hit the button. Tori.
“Stace?” Tori said. “Hi!”
“Hi, yourself.”
“I thought you were going to text me.”
“Sorry,” Stacy said. “I lost track of time.”
“So how’s the date going?”
“Date?”
“Yeah. With that guy. Said his name was….Charles. That’s it. Charles Tower.”
Stacy started to grin. Ahh, so it wasn’t Kelly, it was Tori. Or maybe both of them. “He’s right here with me. We’re at O’Reilly’s”
“You know,” Tori continued. “I was kind of concerned, what with him flashing around hundred-dollar bills and all and getting you to leave us in like five seconds flat.”
Because you paid him to? “But it seems like you used your head if you’re at O’Reilly’s.”
Then again, if Tori and Kelly had done that, Tori would’ve given up the joke by now. She couldn’t pull a prank to save her life.
“Give Pat and Mike a hug for me,” Tori said.
First thought crashed. Second thought crashed.
“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
It was coming back. Jersey City. Adrian’s. Kelly drooling.
“Be careful,” Tori continued. “And use precautions. Doctor’s orders.”
Stacy lifted her gaze. His head tilted, caution filling his gaze. “Of course.”
“You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Smooches.”
The phone beeped. Tori hung up. Stacy stared down at the screen, a hollow forming in the pit of her belly. She fought with herself. Adrian’s. A man. Way out of her league. Talking about drool. An invitation to the Chart House. Walking to her car.
She looked up. Impossible. But was it? Who the hell knew? So she asked because she had to. “Did you give me a bag of coffee?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
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