Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10) (29 page)

Macey dragged herself out of the dream and lay there, heart pounding wildly, body clammy and weak.

It took her a moment to realize where she was, who was sleeping next to her…then the terror of the dream seceded and was replaced by grief.

It should be Grady beside her in his bed.

Macey stared at the ceiling for a moment, aware of the aches and twinges from a body that had been brutally abused less than twenty-four hours earlier. She found it easier to think about that pain than the emotional strain of knowing her former best friend had destroyed two people—at least—and that her former lover was sleeping one floor below her.

Along with the myriad of emotions that kept her miserable and confused, she found that her belly was very insistent on being fed. Macey couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat—maybe some sort of soup in the hospital?—and when her stomach snarled for a second time, she slid from beneath the blankets and put her feet on the floor.

Savina was sleeping soundly and she didn’t stir as Macey padded silently down the stairs. A glance at the sofa told her Grady still slumbered there—a long, lumpy figure beneath a blanket. She didn’t see her father in a chair or on the floor, and allowed a moment to wonder where he’d bunked down, then shrugged.

He knew what he was doing. At least, when it came to hunting vampires.

Making her way through darkness broken only by a streetlight glancing through the window, Macey found a box of crackers. She winced when the packaging crinkled, then winced again when her glass made a soft clink as she pulled it from the cabinet. The water pump thunked on and went into a low hum when she turned on the tap, and to her ears it sounded like an elephant lumbering around the room.

But the house remained silent and still, and after a moment, she breathed more easily. Standing at the kitchen window, she looked out over the park in the next lot. The swings hung empty and straight, and the trees were just beginning to show their leaves against a dark gray sky. Dawn threatened, and with it would come a new day of challenge and conflict.

Macey’s fingers traced the silver crosses embedded in the sill as she chewed the crackers—which tasted as dry as sawdust and only went down when she forced them by drinking water. But her gnawing belly didn’t seem to mind.

“Did you find what you needed?”

Macey held on to her glass—just barely—and turned to Grady. “Yes. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her heart was in her throat—forget swallowing any more crackers—and her insides were doing the Charleston.

Bathed in a shaft of light from the street, he appeared rumpled from sleep. His dark hair was every which way, and a thick curl had tumbled over his forehead. His eyes were in shadow; his chin and jaw were dusted with stubble that glinted in the dusky light. He wore a flimsy undershirt that outlined the sleek muscles of his chest and broad shoulders, as well as the bulky bandages that telegraphed the locations of his worst injuries. His feet—long and elegant—were bare beneath loose sleep pants.

“You didn’t wake me.”

That was all he said, and Macey couldn’t help but try to meet his eyes in the dark, hoping for something…some sort of connection, recognition,
something
that told her…

Well, what? That she hadn’t done a terrible thing to the man? That somehow Wayren’s golden disk hadn’t worked?

That he still loved her?

She swallowed hard and gestured with the package of crackers. “I hope you don’t mind. I was hungry.”

“Not at all.”

“Well, then…good night.” When he didn’t immediately shift for her to pass by, she swallowed hard and said, “Pardon me,” and went to move past him.

“No,” he said, closing strong fingers around her wrist, halting her abruptly in the narrow space, right next to him. He was close…
so
close…so warm, and delicious smelling, and familiar. Her heart galloped like a runaway horse, her belly filled with fluttery wings.

“I can’t do that, Macey,” he said in a low voice that had gone cold and hard. “I can’t pardon you. I can’t
forgive
you.”

Macey jolted, her belly dropping to her knees, and looked up at him. Rage and accusation blazed in eyes illuminated by a slice of streetlight, and his expression was harsh and set.

He knew her.

He knew.

Oh God… She felt light-headed and nauseated.

Oh, Grady.

Macey tried to swallow, tried to speak, but he released her roughly, turning away to present her with broad, rigid shoulders as he faced the window.

Devastated, she stepped closer, reaching to touch him. Her hand settled lightly on the top of his shoulder. He stiffened sharply, and she sensed the faintest tremor beneath her fingers, felt the heat and firmness of his skin…and discovered that rage and pain could, in fact, vibrate from a person’s body.

“I’m here—
you’re
here—because Max asked me,” he said, still in that cold, awful tone, his body rigid as steel. “That’s the
only
reason.”

Macey recoiled, her hand falling away to land at her side. Her gut churned more violently.

“Never fear—when he no longer has need of me,” Grady continued, “it’ll be just as you intended. As if you never knew me.”

“Grady…” she whispered, holding on to the edge of the counter as her knees wavered.

“Good night, Macey.”

But she knew he really meant
Goodbye.

Throat burning, eyes stinging with hot, horrible tears, she spun and fairly ran back up the stairs.

She’d made her bed, and now she must lie in it.

TWENTY-TWO

~ Wherein the Expectations of Friendship are Enumerated ~

Savina was in possession
of a secret that she knew would cause no small upheaval to certain people. She didn’t know when it would be revealed, or how, or even if it would, and so she could do nothing but sit on it like a hen waiting for an egg to hatch.

Which, in light of the fact that Rekk’s Pyramid was now in the hands of the undead, was a much more tenable eventuality to wait upon—rather than whatever terror and evil the vampires would visit upon Chicago.

When Savina awoke, Macey was still sleeping soundly next to her. Sunlight streamed into the room and she checked the clock—nearly eleven. Late for Savina to rise as well, but that was good—the poor girl had gotten some much-needed rest. Along with her Venator genes and the treatments Max had given her, Macey would likely be nearly as good as new by tomorrow.

Savina slid out of bed carefully so as not to wake her bedmate, and even remembered to drag on a robe over her flimsy nightgown before leaving the bedroom. When she came out into the hall, she nearly ran into Max—who was coming from the bathroom.

Freshly showered, but unshaven.

Wrapped only in a towel.

She was still put out with him, still keeping her distance—besides all of the other issues between them, how could he even imagine for
one minute
that she and Grady had been…well, whatever he’d thought?

But seeing him there in the short, narrow hallway, all clean and wet and muscular and smelling yummy and fresh…with that air of triumph and arrogance, and yet a charming undercurrent of diffidence…

Even wrapped in a towel and with weariness in his eyes and dark circles under them, scars and bites scattered on his shoulders and arms, he looked ready to take on the world. One-handed.

But hell—that was part of why she’d fallen in love with the idiot, wasn’t it?
What
he did,
how
he did it—and the fact that he was so blasted charming and good-looking while doing it.

“Good morning,” he rumbled, his dark eyes sweeping over her with interest.

All the feminine parts of her body sprang to attention, warm and quivering with delight. Drat it.

“I trust you slept well,” he added…with a definite undercurrent of
You’d have slept better with me.

Damn right, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

It was all she could do to keep from throwing herself at him right then and feasting on that warm, sleek, damp skin, and having his strong arms around her, and feel his lips everywhere…

“Eventually, I did,” she replied with a warm smile, her voice still rough with slumber. “After your daughter and I had a thorough chat.”

His arrogance slipped a little at that. “Ah.”

But he recovered quickly and reached for her with a certain look in his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep last night myself,” he said, moving closer. “Spent a lot of time walking the streets. Didn’t get back till after dawn.”

She inhaled a breath of Max mingled with the soap he’d just used, and her knees weakened as he reached for her. “Macey and I talked quite late,” she said, a little more breathlessly than she would have liked. “About all sorts of things.”

But her taunt didn’t work this time, for he’d moved close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body, and now he was pulling her closer so that she bumped against his damp chest.

“Max,” she said, evading him as he bent to cover her mouth with hers. “Your daughter is sleeping
right there
.”

He eased back, glancing toward the bedroom door. “Did I tell you what I walked in on
her
doing?” he muttered, his fingers lingering on her shoulder, touching the ends of her hair. “With that devil Woodmore?”

Savina pushed him back, her hands landing on that broad, warm, taut chest…and stayed there.
Weak woman
, she told herself, then made her palms drop away. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I want her to see
me
in a—in a compromising position.”

“But
I
want to see you in a compromising position,” he murmured, swooping down again.

“
Max
,” she said, but it was more like a moan than a protest. He’d found that tender spot on the side of her neck, just above her shoulder…and when he kissed her there, with his soft, hot mouth, all sorts of hot sensations trammeled through her body. Her knees were threatening to give out. “Not here,” she managed to say.

“No problem,” he said, and the next thing Savina knew, they were in Grady’s tiny, steamy bathroom and the tile wall was against her spine. Condensation seeped through the back of her robe as Max kissed the hell out of her—and she kissed him back, sliding her hands down over the solid muscles of his shoulders and chest.

He’d released his grip on the towel at some point, and now she could feel every bit of him pressed up against her: hard, sleek, and damp.

He muttered something low and intense, and yanked the robe from her shoulders, slid the straps of her nightgown down, and uncovered her breasts. Savina had one foot propped up against the side of the bathtub to keep her from sliding down the damp wall as he bent to kiss one of her nipples.

His mouth felt so good…sensual and warm, his tongue delicate as he slid it around, tasting her sleepy skin, his lips tight and strong as he sucked and licked while she tunneled her fingers into his damp hair, holding on for dear life.

“Savina,” he whispered, lifting away then burying his face in her neck as he backed her fully against the wall, pushing his hips up against hers, “I’m going to tear this if you don’t get rid of it.”

She gave a short laugh, and pushed his hands away from the delicate lace of her shift. “Better not,” she said. “It’s the only one I have with me.”

“You can sleep without it,” he said, his hands sliding up her torso then cupping her breasts as she shimmied out of the nightgown. It had barely joined her robe on the floor, tangling around their feet in a pool, when Max lifted her up.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he found her with his fingers, all wet and swollen and hot.
Oh, yes,
she thought as her head tipped back against the wall as he gave a soft sigh of his own.
Yes.

Then he shifted, and her eyes flew open as he drove up inside her. They both groaned with pleasure—it had been too long—and Savina tightened her legs around his waist, burying her face in his hair, gripping his shoulders as he moved with powerful strokes.

As she came, Savina bit her lip, smothering a cry that would surely alert the household otherwise. She arched against him, eagerly taking the full force of his last thrust as he groaned his release.

She rested there, head back against the wall, panting and damp, smiling and sated. He still held her up against the slippery tile with an arm around her waist. Max was breathing heavily too, and he helped ease her legs from around his waist, settling her back onto the floor.

“Well, then,” she breathed, suddenly feeling
really
good. Her hand slipped down the front of him, traveling over solid pecs and a ridged belly, then slipped around to pat his arse. “I’m definitely awake now.”

He grinned down at her, terribly pleased with himself, and brushed the hair from her eyes. “And I find I’m not as weary as I thought I was.”

Then he stepped back, his expression changing from hubristic to something closed and wary. “You and Macey talked last night.”

Savina picked up her nightgown and slithered back into it. “We did.”

“Did she…did she say anything about me?”

Her heart gave a pang at the mix of emotion in his face. “Not very much, to be honest.”

“She hates me, doesn’t she? I’m gone for thirteen years, then the minute I show up, I stake her.” He looked miserable. No wonder he hadn’t been able to sleep last night.

But Savina resisted the urge to smooth away all of his pain and uncertainty. Only Max could do that, with the help of Macey—and surely that would happen in its own time.

After all, Savina herself had mixed emotions about her relationship with him. She was besotted with the man, and he loved
and
respected her…even if he was an idiot sometimes. He was simply afraid.

The big, bad, fierce
Summas
Gardella was afraid of feeling too much…for he knew how easily it could be taken away. He knew how it could be used against him as well—and that, Savina had to admit, was a compelling reason for his reluctance to become attached or committed to anyone.

His decision to see Macey—though it had actually been forced upon him when he realized Nicholas Iscariot had Rasputin’s amulet—was a step in the right direction.