Bound by Her Passion Page 12

  “Don’t worry.” She rubs my arm. “We’ll find Xavier. He’s been on our radar for centuries.”

  “Centuries?”

  She leans forward. “Xavier claims to have arrived in North America with the first explorers from France in 1534.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “Yeah.” She shrugs. “I doubt he came with Jacques Cartier, like he claims. Hard to know for sure, but I do know that the first contingent from FJS came to what’s now Québec in 1670, and Xavier was already here.”

  My insides tremble. The sadist who’s after me suddenly looms so much larger, like he’s invincible. “If you haven’t been able to catch him for three hundred and fifty years…”

  My throat closes and my chest caves like the ceiling is pressing down and the walls are closing in around me. “I need to go upstairs.” I dash up from the basement.

  Struggling to breathe, I pause at the top of the stairs at the door to Gray’s bright kitchen. My instincts tell me the daylight streaming into the room isn’t safe, even though I’ve been living inside of Gray’s treated glass for nearly a week now.

  I stagger into the room, crossing toward the sinks. Willing the tightness in my chest to release, I stare out the large double window above the sunken ceramic sinks and the sight seems like a miracle. The sunlight on green grass, on the leaves of trees, the brilliant white clouds floating through the blue sky… My chest opens enough to let me breathe again.

  A butterfly flits past the window, and I lean forward to watch its path across Gray’s yard. It’s been so long since I’ve witnessed daylight. Resting my hands on the edge of the sink, I try to remember the feel of sunlight on my skin, the smell of fresh air in the daytime—but even the sight of sunlight feels good, beyond good.

  “Selina.” Astrid steps up beside me and rests her hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe here at Gray’s. I promise. And we will get Xavier.”

  I shake my head. “So many years…”

  “We’ve never had grounds to go after him before,” she says. “We knew about his false claim of royalty and suspected what went on in his court, but we’ve never had evidence to charge him with any crimes. We’ve never had a witness. Now we have two, maybe three.”

  “Is the third that vampire who was burned under the silver net?”

  “He’s not cooperating.” She frowns. “He’s been charged with attempted murder and kidnapping.”

  “And Kwana?”

  “She’s told us a lot.” Astrid rests her fingers on the counter beside the sink. “But she claims not to know another way in.”

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  “She hasn’t given us any reason not to trust her.”

  “And you can’t find the door I escaped through downtown?”

  Astrid shakes her head. “You haven’t remembered anything more, have you?”

  “No.” I look down and clench my fists. “I hate that I can’t remember where it was.”

  “You were starved, sun-burned, traumatized.” Jumping up, she twists to sit on the counter next to the sink. “Trauma’s probably affecting Kwana’s memory, too. That night was the first time she’d been above ground as a vampire. She was turned in Xavier’s court.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head, but Kwana’s story rings true. “I was blindfolded when I was taken to his court,” I tell Astrid, “and while I knew none of Xavier’s mates ever left the palace compound, it never occurred to me that no one ever left.”

  Astrid adjusts the elastic holding back her thick red mane. “According to Kwana, only a few of Xavier’s most trusted Guard ever come up to the city.”

  A blue jay lands on the branch of a tree. Joy and regret flood through me at once. The bird seems like a sign of opportunity, of hope, but its freedom is a reminder that I’m caged. Even if my cage isn’t Xavier’s now—not directly.

  I turn toward Astrid and lean against the edge of the sink. “Santos. The vampire who recruited me. He was allowed outside.”

  She nods. “Everyone on my team is searching for Santos too. Xavier uses him to find baby vampires—like you—and to lure humans to feed from or turn. That’s what happened to Kwana. She was human when she was captured.”

  Astrid leans and rests her head on the cupboard next to the window. “There is one encouraging thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Kwana doesn’t think Xavier will send anyone after you right away.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would leave him exposed to an attack.”

  “An attack from—”

  “His own so-called subjects and courtiers—maybe even his mates.”

  His mates would never turn against him. Would they?

  I back away from the counter and lean back against the island, facing Astrid. “Xavier’s mates love him.” I think back to Jordina and Alexander, the vampires who bathed and dressed me before my last wedding attempt.

  “If his mates don’t love him,” I say, “they sure convinced me that they do.”

  “Maybe so.” Astrid tips her head to the side. “But Kwana believes most of the court would leave, given the opportunity.”

  My eyes narrow as I consider this. “Most of Xavier’s subjects have free run of the palace from what I could tell.”

  Astrid shrugs. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t trapped.”

  I nod. Some might just be held captive by their own minds, fearing what’s waiting on the surface. Especially if they’ve been down there a long time.

  I try to let my fear pass out of my body. “So Xavier’s not coming after me anymore?”

  “That’s not what I said.” Her expression grows serious and she pushes off the counter to stand in front of me. “But there’s a good chance we have a bit of time before he comes after you again.”

  “That’s a relief, I guess.” I should run away from here. Run as far away from Xavier as I can get.

  If I hadn’t made connections here, more connections than I’ve had in my entire life, I’d leave the city right now. Leave the country. The continent. But, if life as a lone vampire was hard in a place that I know, I can’t imagine being a lone vamp on the run.

  “We’re still learning more from Kwana,” Astrid says. “And then there’s Pike.”

  I raise my gaze quickly to meet hers, my heart rate increasing again. “What about Pike?”

  “Gray thinks he’d be willing to cooperate.”

  “Gray has talked to Pike?”

  She shakes her head. “Not since he released you. Neither have we. My team’s looking for him. We’d like to ask him some questions.”

  “Don’t trust Pike,” I blurt. “He’s a monster.” The words come out on instinct, but something deep in my gut disagrees with what I said.

  “I hear you,” she says. “When we find him we’ll charge him with assault, at a minimum, and for your kidnapping on the night of the attack. But we can’t ignore the fact that he did let you go—maybe twice. And he told Gray that he wants Xavier dead…”

  “It could be a trick.” But I’m shocked to realize that the mention of Pike woke an ache between my legs and—even stranger—one in my heart. I close my eyes to fight the unwanted feelings. What is wrong with me?

  Clearly I’ve spent too much of my life as a prisoner or running from predators. My body no longer reacts to danger in a normal way. That’s the only explanation for how I’m feeling right now.

  And speaking of dangerous men, I haven’t seen Colton since he told me about the symbol carved into the flesh of all those victims. Training so often, I’ve barely been to O’Malley’s since the night Colton and I talked, but Rock told me the cop’s been by a few times, although mostly before dark.

  I need to talk to someone about what Colton told me, and Astrid’s the closest thing I have to a friend.

  “You know how that cop’s been hanging out in Rock’s bar?” I ask Astrid.

  She nods. “Rock says he’s asked about you. Best to steer clear of O’Malley’s for a
while.”

  Biting my lower lip, I shake my head. “I need to talk to him again.”

  “The cop?” Astrid’s bright green eyes spark with shock. “Why?”

  “He told me something about the serial killer—”

  “You talked about that?” She turns toward me, eyes wide. “Why?”

  I straighten. “He brought it up.” Although to be honest, I’m no longer certain how the topic came up. “Colton, that’s the cop’s name, he’s part of the task force that’s hunting for the serial killer.”

  “All the more reason to stay away from him.” Astrid tips her head to the side. “What if he suspects you’re the killer?”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Bad enough if he suspects you’re a vampire.”

  I shake my head, but a shiver runs down my spine. “If he knew that, wouldn’t I already be dead?”

  She shrugs, conceding. “The serial killer’s making life more dangerous for every vampire in the city. The police tactics are escalating. We’re hunting him too.”

  “Not him.” I take a deep breath. “Her.”

  “What?” Astrid leans forward. “Do the humans know the killer’s female? Did the cop tell you that?”

  I shake my head, then draw a long breath. “I know it. Or suspect it anyway. I think the serial killer is my Maker.”

  Astrid’s head snaps back. “What in the world makes you think that?”

  “Colton told me that all the killer’s victims had the same wound.”

  “Sure,” Astrid shrugs. “Most have unhealed fang marks on their necks. Although according to our sources, a few of them had their throats ripped out.”

  “Not that,” I tell her. “A symbol. A symbol carved into the victims that matches this one.” Turning, I pull up my hair and show her the scar at the back of my neck.

  “What is that?” she asks.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “It appeared after I turned.” I didn’t mention it when I described my transition to Astrid, Malcolm and Rock.

  “Fascinating.” Moving behind me as I hold my hair up, she runs her finger over the mark. “It’s very red. Somewhere between a scab and a scar. I’ve never seen anything like it on a vampire. Usually open sores heal during the transition process. Only fully formed scars stay.”

  I drop my hair and turn back to her.

  “Has Gray seen it?” she asks.

  “Probably.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I haven’t shown it to him. Why?”

  She shrugs, but suddenly looks like she wishes she hadn’t asked the question. “Your transition is still a mystery, and Gray knows more about that kind of thing.”

  “He’s never mentioned my scar.” It’s small and hidden by my hair. Besides Gray doesn’t spend a lot of time taking in the details of my body or letting me take in the details of his. We always get straight to the fucking, and as much as I enjoy the sex, physically, his detachment is starting to hurt my feelings.

  Gray’s put up a wall between us—more like a curtain or sheet. Whatever it is that’s hanging between us, it’s like Gray fucks me through a hole in that barrier, taking and giving me pleasure while minimizing any kind of intimacy—or even skin contact.

  “Did you show your scar to that cop?” Astrid brings me back to the present.

  “No.”

  She exhales hard. “That’s good. At least I think it’s good. Or, maybe…” Her eyes narrow. “If you show him, do you think you could get him to tell you more about the serial killer case?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “FJS needs to catch this vampire before the humans do. Bring her to justice with a proper trial.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can get the cop to tell me more.” Colton likes telling me about his work.

  Astrid bites her lower lip. “On second thought. Don’t show him the scar. If he thinks you’re one of the killer’s victims, he might want to take you in to file a police report—during daylight hours.”

  I nod. I don’t really want to show Colton my scar, but I do know that I want to see him again. “Can you help me?”

  “With what?” she asks.

  “With Rock and Gray. They barely let me out of their sight. If I’m going to get the cop to talk, I need to get away from them for a while.”

  Chapter 19

  Rock

  I push a freshly poured beer across the bar.

  “What’s this?” the customer asks.

  I look back at the short man with a beard, who’s glancing between me and the glass like I just poured him a pint of cat piss.

  “I ordered a Barking Squirrel IPA.” The customer shoots me a look of scorn.

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” I move the mild lager below the bar, grab a fresh glass and start to pull the right beer.

  Across the room, Selina leans intimately toward the cop, and jealousy pounds inside me. Jealousy mixed with a strong dose of fear. What if he figures out what she is?

  Beer washes over the top of the pint glass and splatters down onto my shoes. Feck! I shut off the tap, wipe the sides of the glass and hand it to my customer.

  “About time,” he says.

  “It’s on the house.” The customer’s a demanding git, rude, but right now I just want him out of my face so I can keep my eyes on Selina.

  The bell over the front door jangles, but I don’t even look up to see who entered. Danger is already in the building.

  The cop has two wooden stakes stashed in his jacket—two I can see—and I’m shocked that Selina’s taking such a chance with her life. If I see one hint that he’s figured out she’s a vampire, I’ll leap over the bar and kill him before one of those stakes goes anywhere near her heart.

  “Earth to Rock.”

  I turn to see Astrid and Malcolm leaning against the bar. “Hey. Sorry. Didn’t see you come in.”

  “We got that.” Malcolm winks.

  “Cocktails? Red wine? What’s your pleasure tonight?”

  “Red wine sounds great,” Malcolm answers.

  Astrid nods, and I grab two glasses, set them on the bar and turn away from Selina for a few seconds to snag an open bottle of the Cab Sauv that my vampire friends both favor.

  I keep my eyes on Selina as I pour their wine. “What is she thinking, talking to that cop?”

  “He has information she wants.” Astrid lifts her wine glass, swirls the liquid inside, then looks over her shoulder toward Selina and the cop. “Information about her Maker.”

  “What? How?” And why didn’t she tell me? I shake my head. The answer’s obvious. She didn’t mention it because I would have argued even more strongly against her coming to the bar tonight.

  “Rock.” Astrid draws my attention. “Selina can handle herself with a human. But if you like, I can keep an eye on her.”

  “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

  A customer beckons from the other end of the bar.

  I deeply regret that I agreed to let Selina come in on Kev’s night off. But as she very forcefully pointed out when I brought it up, she doesn’t need my permission to do anything. And she’s right.

  I know that she’s strong, and becomes more so every day, but I wish she’d make it easier for me to protect her.

  The customer orders a Manhattan, and I curse under my breath as I prepare it. While I’m searching for maraschino cherries, not often used in this place, Chelle gives me an order for the party of six in the front booth.

  I finish the Manhattan, then rush around pulling three beers, opening a bottle of Pinot Gris to pour a single glass. Then I make two margaritas, one with salt, one without. Don’t these people realize this is a beer and peanuts kind of bar? And why is everyone choosing tonight to order drinks I have to do more than just pour?

  After I put the last of the drinks on a tray for Chelle, I shift my attention back to Selina. I nearly leap over the bar.

  Selina and the cop are walking toward the exit together, and I want to smash the obvious desire and adoration off the human ma
le’s face. But at least that’s better than if he looked ready to stake her.

  “Selina!” I call out.

  She says something to the cop, and he pauses at the door.

  I meet her at the end of the bar. “You just seeing him out?”

  She smiles a smile that makes everything inside me go mushy. “No, I’m not just seeing him out.”

  “Then what?”

  “We’re going for a walk.”

  “What?”

  Heads turn in the bar and I realize I raised my voice. Big time. I lean over the bar and speak more softly. “You’re joking, right?”

  She whispers in my ear. “Astrid is going to follow behind us, just in case. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe.”

  My hearts are thumping out of my chest. “Why would you take such a huge risk?”

  “I need information from him,” she says. “It’s important. Trust me, please?” She looks into my eyes, pleading.

  “Information about your Maker.”

  Her eyes open wider.

  “Astrid told me.”

  “Oh.” She draws a long breath. “I need to know more about who I am, and Rock, if anyone should understand my curiosity about this, it’s you. What would you risk to know more about your people?”

  My breath catches and anger flares inside me. It feels like a low blow for her to bring up how alone I am in the world, how I don’t even know with certainty what I am, never mind who my parents were.

  But she’s right. I’d jump at any lead that would help find my family or anyone who knows about my life before that infernal circus.

  At my long pause, her expression grows colder. She’s angry.

  “I’m going, Rock, whether you like it or not.” She pushes back from the bar, and the cop’s face lights up as she walks back to join him at the exit.

  He holds open the door and his hand softly touches her back as she leaves. I want to kill him.

  Astrid touches my hand. Braced for danger and caught up in my anger and fear, I almost strike her.

  But I’m not nearly fast enough to strike a vampire. Astrid grabs my wrist, her tight grip stopping both the motion and my circulation, and reminding me just how strong my vampire friend is.