Blood Entangled (17 page)

A fantasy of her pretty face truly afraid brought on his orgasm, his body tingling with strange pleasure. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. When he could speak again he announced his decision.

“Tomorrow we’re going to San Francisco.”

Her eyebrows drew together. In the dark room, there was just enough light to show that tears striped her red face. Strands of her chestnut hair were matted to her forehead and she wiped them off with the back of her hand. There was something so broken in her stare—broken like Zoey. His over-used dick miraculously twitched again.

She sniffed and then nodded.

A heavy wave of satisfaction crashed over him. He collapsed and the next thing he knew, the room had filled with the gray light of dawn. He showered, and when he stepped out of the bathroom, Gwen was no longer in the bed. A page torn from her notebook lay in her place.

Finally.

She’d scribbled a portion of her translation, annotated with her notes. On the top it read,
I think you earned this
. He felt rather triumphant about his performance himself, but was too curious about the translation to dwell on it.

The Day Walkers lived according to the ways of Dela-Malkh. (This is one name for the sun deity of the ancient Caucuses.) Their eyes shone with Dela-Malkh's light. (Look in the mirror.) When the Night Walkers came, they drank death. (Blood?) Dela-Malkh hated the Night Walkers. They drank the death of Dela-Malkh's people. They were unclean. (Death was considered unclean by many ancient cultures.)

Dela-Malkh punished them with his flames and banished them to the darkness. But at Night they came to the Children of the Day. They brought shame on the Children with their teeth (fangs?) and their bodies. The Children of the Day were enslaved to the power of Night Walkers. The Day Walkers warned their children: Dela-Malkh will punish you.

But the Night Walkers drank death and stole Dela-Malkh's light. The blood of the Children of the Day made them strong. Dela-Malkh lost his power over the Night Walkers. They could walk in the Day and the Night. (Do you suppose your blood has this power?)

The answer hardly mattered. The mere possibility would be Ethan’s greatest weapon. First Marasović, then the whole world. Blood pumped oxygen into Ethan’s brain so fast he became dizzy, could barely contain his excite—

A shrill scream rang out from downstairs. Gwen.

Was there an intruder? He rushed toward the sound of her wail.

In the far corner of the kitchen, she sat with her head folded over her splayed legs, sobbing onto the tile floor. She gripped the piece of paper where he’d scrawled a name—Mason Kearney.

He shook her, but she wouldn’t speak. He slapped her. Still, she only gasped and returned to the hysterical keening. Like a sharp blade slicing through the chaos came the instinct to hit her, not out of anger, but because she needed it. He punched her, full on the mouth. She went rigid, and her eyes focused on him even as her hand pressed to her bleeding lip.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She held his gaze for a long second. “If we’re getting on a plane, best not to batter my face.”

In that moment, he understood her submission was not a weakness. It would be very difficult to bully the information from her. An interesting challenge. He took the paper with the vampire’s name from her, folding it carefully and placing it next to his keys.

She was practically catatonic as they prepared for the trip and drove the rental car to the airport. In no time, they were airborne. Under the plane, a patchwork quilt of Midwestern states passed by, each one home to countless Hunters in search of vampires. Soon, those throngs of hateful humans would be Ethan’s very own golden-eyed army, his to command.

Ethan grazed his thumb over Gwen’s puffy lip, a split down its center freshly scabbed over. “You have a very pretty mouth.”

She met his eye silently, her expression guarded.
Who the hell was this Mason Kearney?

Her reaction did explain why she’d so easily accepted the existence of vampires—apparently, she knew one.

The flight attendant set complimentary champagne on their trays. Gwen flinched when she took a sip. The bubbles probably stung when they hit that sliver of raw flesh.

With the length of his finger, he caressed the back of her hand. “I will get this secret out of you. I’m very good at getting information.”

“I have no doubt you are.” She leaned closer to him, even though her tone was chilly.

He pretended to sip his champagne, hoping to encourage her to do the same. It might loosen her tongue. “Do you know where he lives?”

Justine hadn’t been able to turn up the slightest evidence of a Mason Kearney in legal records besides one who had died in an automobile accident in 1928. Probably the vampire—they were good at faking these things. But, still, Justine had found no address.

Inching even closer, Gwen whispered. “Are you going to kill him?”

“Eventually. First, I will get any information from him I can. He has a connection to my primary target.”

Although there was no champagne in Gwen’s intriguing little mouth, she swallowed. “How many of them are there?”

Them? Ah, she meant vampires. Ethan closed his eyes and estimated. “Thousands. Possibly millions, all over the world.”

“Are they all like him?”

“I don’t know, Gwen. You refuse to tell me anything about him.” He dropped his voice so he could not be overheard. “But they are all evil parasites who enslave humans.”

Her hand trembled, nearly spilling the wine. She steadied it, clasping the plastic cup with both hands. She gulped down the rest of the champagne, and her pink tongue came out to wipe at her cut.

His dick hardened instantly. What was it about her?

She looked into her empty cup. “He has a house in Pacific Heights.”

“Can you find it?”

Her delicate white throat clenched again. “Yes.”

“Are you willing to help me?”

That question earned him a direct look, the first one in hours. “Yes.”

A plan took shape in his mind. “I’m going to station you outside his house, on a stakeout, of sorts. Anyone who comes or goes, I will need you to take note of them, and photos, if possible.”

“All right.”

She was finally being a good little girl. He surprised himself by bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. Her thin fingers squeezed around his and he felt almost protective. This Mason Kearney had hurt her, perhaps had even given her a taste for being hurt. For that, Ethan was grateful. But anger pulsed somewhere deep inside him, in a place others referred to as their hearts—she was his to hurt, and his alone.

When they deplaned at San Francisco International Airport, Ethan’s phone chimed with a text message.

Napalm in hand. We’re gathering at HQ.

Chapter 14

K
OS
R
ECLINED
I
N
H
IS
C
HAIR
, shaking his head at the way Zoey scraped the last of his poker chips into her lap and licked her lips like a cheetah finishing off a zebra carcass.

His phone rang, and Mason’s name appeared on the screen. It was two thirty in the morning, but between vampires there was no such thing as too early or too late.

“What is up, man?” Mason drawled, the contemporary phrasing slightly at odds with his old-fashioned enunciation.

Mason would find the truth amusing, so Kos winked at Zoey and said, “Just lost my shirt in a game of poker.”

“Strip poker?”

“No, just my metaphorical shirt.” The image of Andre and Kos buck-naked and Zoey fully clothed came too easily to mind. No, he would never be foolish enough to accept that challenge. “Can I call you back from my office in a few minutes?”

“Sure.”

As Kos ended the call, Andre took hold of Zoey’s hand. He’d accepted her victory over him so gracefully, as if her ferocious sense of competition was so adorable that Andre himself no longer cared to win.

Kos scratched his chin.
Did love change you like that?
He stood and offered Zoey his hand. “Thanks for the company.”

Andre rose too, and clasped Kos’s palm firmly between both his hands. “Yes. We should get back in the routine. Cards clear my head like nothing else. Better even than—”

“How about tonight?” Zoey asked.

Suddenly modest, was she? No, her smirk suggested she was protecting Kos’s propriety more than her own. Meanwhile, Andre glowered. Apparently he didn’t mean to resume their old card playing routine quite so soon after bonding with her.

She leaned into his side and jutted her hip into him. “Don’t pout. We can spend the afternoon together.”

Her offer of another night of cards was generous and good-natured. All night, she’d perched in an armchair, legs folded underneath her. With her wide smile and heavy lidded eyes, she was a picture of contentment even as she talked smack about their poker games. Better yet, she’d been still and easy during their extended silences, a particular intimacy between Kos and Andre.

Kos liked her, and his father was as happy as he’d ever been, which made Kos’s insides freeze up with cold dread. Perhaps when things went bad between Andre and Zoey, it would not be the kind of mutually assured destruction Mila had initiated. For all their sakes, Kos could hope.

Pretending to notice something on Andre’s desk, Kos turned from the happy couple and straightened a stack of papers. “Let’s play it by ear. I may go out on patrol with Bel’s crew.”

“Sounds good.” Zoey nodded.

Passing through the musty cellar further dampened his mood. He was in a full-blown melancholy by the time he reached his office. At his desk, he kicked off his shoes and put his feet up.

Mason answered the call on the first ring. “Kos, buddy, good to hear your voice.”

Kos feigned lightheartedness. “Same here. How’ve you been?”

“Great, just great. You?”

With a whistle, Kos let out a long breath. “To tell the truth, it’s been a rough summer. Hunters found us.”

“Seriously? Why haven’t you fled?”

“It’s a long story, but the gist is, we need to stay if possible. We had some help from my brother Bel to fend them off. They retreated, but we know they’ll be back any day.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Mason’s voice pitched slightly higher. “It’s terrible news.”

“Yeah. But, I’m pleased about getting Lena out of here to safety.”

“Good. Good. Are you holding up okay to the wasting disease?”

“Remarkably well.” No sense getting into details about the wine that was keeping them healthy and tied to Kaštel. Mason was a San Francisco native; he wasn’t wasting, so Blood Vine wouldn’t help him anyway.

“So tell me about this Lena of yours, or is she Andre’s?”

“Andre’s.”
Technically.
“She’s amazing. The household loves her food. She’s a knockout. An eleven, if you know what I mean.”

“Big, little, fair, dark?”

“Blond, tall and lean, but with curves.” Huge eyes, too clever and too blue to be doe-like, the sweetest smile, thoughtful. These attributes were probably not important to Mason, so Kos catalogued them silently.

“Why does she want to leave?”

The simplest explanation was best. “My dad’s bonded now. He doesn’t have sex with the householders. She wants the whole package.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m happy to oblige.”

Kos was certain about that, but he really didn’t want to think about it. His heart lurched. Yeah, he really, really didn’t. “I can bring her to your place. Are you still in Pacific Heights?”

“Same as always. Can you come on Friday?”

So soon. His heart stopped altogether. Yes. The sooner the better. He pounded on his chest to start the damn thing up again. “I’ll check with her, but I think that should work.”

“Kos, are Hunters watching you? No offense, but I don’t want them to follow you here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought of that. I’ll have someone from Bel’s crew follow us and check for a tail. If there’s any sign we were followed, we’ll leave Lena in a public place and you can pick her up once we’re sure she’s lost the tail.”

Mason fell silent, and Kos could appreciate his caution.

Eventually the other vampire said, “That will work. But hopefully it won’t come to plan B. It would be great to see you. We can reminisce about the good old days.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon.” Kos ended the call, fixating on the blank screen of his phone and remembering. For him, those good old days weren’t any better than these days. Hearing Mason’s voice brought back memories, but all the women and all the blood blurred together.

Then one unexpected memory leaped out. He’d gone into the living room of Mason’s house one night to find a naked girl, pale as the moon and unconscious on the couch.