Grave Secret

Dedication

To the bosses who never seemed to “notice” when I spent time writing at work: Chris Tencha, Jacqueline Rose and Kelly Porath. Much was accomplished simply because you understood I had a dream I needed to chase. Thank you.

To Carly Montgomery, an amazing woman I am pleased to call a friend and even happier to have killed off in this book. You did my phenomenal Secret tattoo, and if I ever get really, really rich, maybe I can convince you to do the graphic novel. And to Carly’s more beardy other half, Marc Vienneau, who is just as stellar as his lady.

To Stephanie Armstrong. I keep waiting until I write a dirty anthropologist book to put your name in print, but who says I can’t do it twice?

To Mhairi Simpson, who was gracious enough to do the Spanish translations for Sig so I didn’t make a huge mess of them.

To Carla Suel, who donated money to cancer research just to get a fictional kiss with one of my boys—you’re a rock star. And to her husband, Dave, who still holds a place in my heart for the single greatest piece of fan mail I’ve ever received.

And to every reader who patiently waited to see where the last lines in
Keeping Secret
were leading. As always, these books are for you.

Chapter One

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I don’t know if the fool’s errand I was on counted as
good intentions
, but I was pretty sure there was a chance it might take me straight to hell. Handbasket included.

It had been almost six months since Holden had made me promise I’d spend the night with him. Six months for me to pretend I’d never sworn to it and to ignore the reason for his request. Half a year for him to prod and tease and constantly remind me he was still there.

That he was still waiting.

He wanted a night to prove there was more between us than just friendship or a wildly unprofessional work relationship. Neither of us knew what that was, but he was bound and determined to find out.

I, on the other hand, wanted to keep disregarding the chemistry because I didn’t think there was room in my life for another man. Not with two werewolf soul mates. My love life had been complicated enough without throwing a vampire into the mix.

That was then.

Now I was a werewolf queen, but I no longer had any soul mates. One had stood me up at the altar on our wedding day, and the other couldn’t bear to look at me anymore.

Lucas publicly abandoning me had hurt like hell. Desmond looking at me like I’d betrayed him…that ripped my heart to shreds in a way I didn’t think I’d ever be able to heal. I’d always known I loved Desmond more than Lucas, but since Lucas was a werewolf king, he claimed to
need
me more. And being the sucker I was, I believed him.

He’d needed me when it was convenient.

Then I stopped being convenient, and he chose to fight over territory instead of being there for me when I needed him.

I was out two wolves and standing in the open-concept loft of a vampire who’d never been shy about letting it be known he wanted to be with me.

And I was lost.

Holden stared at me, and I took a good look at him for the first time since I’d awkwardly barged into his apartment. He wore perfectly tailored jeans and a white dress shirt with all the buttons undone, exposing a sculpted plane of pale, muscular abdomen.

I swallowed hard, and it didn’t escape my attention that his gaze drifted to my throat. He had a hard time hiding the fact he found my pulse appealing. I wondered—now that I was here—if he was planning to bite me the same way he had in countless dreams.

“I…” My voice trailed off as I tore my focus away from him and let myself take in the room. I hadn’t been to Holden’s apartment for a long time, and I was often impressed by the stark, minimalistic cleanliness of the place.

Hardwood covered the floors, and against the far wall was a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. I’d never asked what he covered them with during the day, or if he left them bare and hid from the light behind the Japanese paper-screen walls at the back of the apartment.

“Secret.” My name sounded different than it ever had before, at least from his lips. There was no exasperation, no teasing or sarcasm. The way he said it made the small hairs on my arms rise.

It proved to be harder not to look at him directly because my wandering gaze found the mostly nude Mapplethorpe portrait of Holden on the far wall, female hands strategically placed to hide the goods. I felt my cheeks flush, and when I turned away from it, he was still there, in person, more attractive than any portrait.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I confessed.

He took a step closer, and the hunter’s instinct in me told me to back away, but I didn’t listen.

“Sure you do.”

Shaking my head, I added, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But you are.” The obvious having been stated, Holden took the final step to close the space between us. A moment earlier I’d been sure there were miles of floor to keep him at a nice, safe distance. Now his hands were tentatively reaching for mine, and when his fingers twined with my own, I let out a shuddery breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

His grip tightened, and he pulled me towards him so my body was up against his. I didn’t usually run hot, and Holden was room temperature on a good day, yet somehow my skin was burning up the closer I got to him.

“What do you need?” he asked.

What did I need? What kind of question was that? I tugged my fingers free of his, and my focus locked on the pearl-colored buttons of his shirt. He might not be able to enthrall me with his gaze, but I still couldn’t look at him. I played with one of the buttons, rolling it between my thumb and index finger.

I could think of a dozen things I needed, none of which Holden could give to me. But I’d been drawn to him because I knew, deep down, that I might never have the things I once did. I’d made a mistake, agreeing to marry Lucas, and I was paying the price for it.

And if Desmond really was gone—which I was starting to believe he was—I needed to forget what it meant to love him. Which would be impossible. So the next best thing would be to feel something else.

Anything else.

“I need a distraction,” I said.

Holden placed his hand under my chin and gently lifted my face so I was looking at him. “A distraction?” The smirk playing on his lips did funny, wobbly things to my insides. He was almost painfully beautiful this close up. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“You said I had to spend a night with you. Here I am.”

He trailed strong fingers over my cheek and raked them through my hair, tangling himself in my curls. “Should I be grateful?”

The small hairs on my arms and the back of my neck bristled. The way he spoke was brusque and slightly predatory. He wasn’t exactly angry, but there was a new charge in the air that had little to do with seduction.

“You wanted this.”

“I wanted you. I made no secret of that…no pun intended.” Holden’s eyes were dark and held a hungry gleam. But hungry for what, I wasn’t sure.

“If you wanted me, here I am.”

“I want Secret McQueen, not some sniffling, mopey, pathetic schoolgirl who can barely get out of bed because she’s
sad
.” The last word was heavy with insult.

My stomach clenched. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said I don’t want you like this.” His grip on my hair tightened, and he jerked my face close to his, close enough our noses touched.

I’d come here expecting to give myself to him, but now that he had me locked in his grip and was looking at me like a victim, I was having a huge change of heart.

“Let me go,” I demanded.

“You’re the big, bad vampire hunter,” he said, his gaze narrowing. “Why don’t you make me?”

Chapter Two

Bracing both of my palms against his chest, I tried to push Holden off me, but he wouldn’t budge. Moments like this functioned as a stark and frightening reminder that full-blooded vampires were stronger than I was. Holden had never flaunted his physical advantages before, but now he was acting like my resistance wasn’t impacting him at all.

“I
command
you to let me go.” If he wasn’t going to yield to my strength, maybe he’d smart up and listen to my power.

“The Tribunal isn’t here. The council isn’t here. It’s just you and me.” He ducked his head, and his teeth grazed my throat. I convulsed.

“Let me go, Holden.”

Pointy fangs scratched the smooth surface of my skin. I balled my hands in his dress shirt because my knees were suddenly wobbly. I didn’t want to admit that in spite of my rage, I didn’t hate what he was doing to me.

Part of me wanted him to bite me.

A bigger part of me wanted to show him that I wasn’t going to let a goddamn sentry vampire get the best of me.

I grabbed his throat and shoved his head away from my neck, my fingers tightening as I continued to move him backwards across the room. The hungry gleam in his eyes was still there, but this time he wasn’t fighting me. I pushed him as far as the apartment’s main wall, where I shoved him hard into the brick.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demanded.

“So you are still in there.”

I released him and put a few steps between us. “You know, if this is how you treat the women you bring to your apartment, it’s no small wonder you’re single.”

Holden smiled. “I don’t usually bring such sad cases home with me.”

I snorted. “The girls you normally bring home are sad for entirely different reasons.”

“I’m sorry…what was that? Was that a joke?”

“At your expense,” I reminded him.

“I’ll take it. So long as you don’t start crying. You know how I feel about women who cry.”

“God, you’re charming.”

“And you came here to fuck me, so there’s no accounting for taste.” He rubbed his throat and smiled at me.

Heaven help me, I smiled back. I was so out of practice, my cheeks hurt to make the gesture.

“Do you have anything to drink?” I asked.

“If you’re hoping for blood, you came to the wrong place. I like—”

“Fresh from the tap. I know. You’ve used that line maybe eight million times since we first met.”

Holden smirked unapologetically.

“How about something a little harder?” I regretted my choice of words immediately when he lowered his gaze and his grin broadened. “Ugh, you’re incorrigible. Truly.”

“You love it.”

He brushed past me and into the miniscule kitchen that made my own closet-sized one look downright palatial. Vampires, by and large, had no use for kitchens. If a girl was hoping for a home-cooked meal from her vampire boyfriend, she might want to reconsider her dating pool.

What he lacked in culinary trappings he made up for in a booze cupboard. Turning towards me, he held Jameson whiskey in one hand and Glenlivet scotch in the other.