Secrets in the Shadows (22 page)

***

Apparently, a hundred years, give or take, wasn’t enough time for a man to understand women, Jules mused as he swung his legs out of bed.

Hannah had given him every indication that she’d enjoyed what he was doing, even though he was rather shocked at his own behavior. He’d never been like that with a woman before, always priding himself on his ability to inflict slow, sensual torment on his partners. Tonight, he’d been out of control, wild with lust, the beast within him taking charge.

That’s what I get for being celibate so damn long, he thought. No question about it, he and celibacy were not meant for each other.

He approached the bathroom door tentatively. Maybe Hannah knew what was best for herself and needed a little time alone. Certainly he could understand her feeling a bit overwhelmed by what had just happened. Or maybe she needed a little tenderness, some proof that he truly was a man and not a beast. He honestly didn’t know.

A sharp pain stabbed through his chest when he heard the sound of muffled tears. Hannah was crying? Guilt swamped him and he laid both hands against the door, a knot tightening in his throat.

“Hannah?” he said, his voice showing the strain. “Hannah, are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” she called, but there was no missing the lie.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a brute. Did I hurt you?” If he had, she sure as hell hadn’t given him any indication of it.

“I’m fine, Jules,” she repeated, her voice a little steadier.

“Why don’t you come out so we can talk?”

“I don’t need a nursemaid. Just leave me alone for a bit.”

He swallowed hard, her rebuff hurting more than it had any right to. She’d never been too thrilled about the obvious chemistry between them. Obviously, she was shaken because the chemistry had overruled her conviction that sleeping with him would be a bad idea.

Understanding didn’t make the pain go away. He wanted her in his arms, wanted to revel in the pleasure they’d shared and not think about the consequences. But right now, it wasn’t just the closed door that separated them.

“You don’t need to hide out in the bathroom,” he said, sounding far calmer than he felt. “I’ll go take a walk so you can have the room to yourself.”

He expected her to protest, remind him that it was sleeting out and that they were in a dangerous neighborhood. She said nothing.

Stung once again, Jules left the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

For the hundredth time, Drake wished he’d gotten out of Baltimore when he’d had the chance. He paced the length of the “guest room” where Camille had ensconced him for the night while she prepared a plan to hunt down and kill her own son. The door and the windows were reinforced with iron, keeping him thoroughly trapped despite his strength.

He wasn’t sure why she was keeping him here anymore, but he supposed it was some way of striking back at Eli. No doubt she was blaming Eli and the Guardians for her son’s desertion. Which was wishful thinking, for Gabriel had obviously created his fledgling army long before Drake and Jules had set foot in Baltimore. Something Camille no doubt didn’t wish to accept.

Drake’s phone rang. When he checked the caller ID and saw that it was Eli, he debated whether to answer or not. He still needed more time to absorb the distasteful truth about the man he had once admired so greatly. But he wasn’t ready to give up all that the Guardians and Eli had given him in a fit of anger, so he answered.

“Things have gone to hell down here, Eli,” he said, skipping the polite greeting.

“Tell me.”

Drake recounted the harrowing events of the evening, concluding with the cheerful news that he was now Camille’s prisoner.

“One thing’s for certain,” Eli said when Drake was finished, “whoever made those fledglings, it wasn’t Gabriel.”

“Oh? How do you know that?”

“I know Gabriel. He’s very loyal. Camille would have to provoke him beyond endurance to make him turn on her.”

Drake thought about that a moment. “You mean, like you did?”

He could almost hear Eli’s wince. “I can’t blame him for hating me.”

“What exactly happened between you two?” Drake didn’t expect the usually closed-mouthed Eli to answer, nor was he sure he wanted him to.

“I tried to kill him. When I decided to found the Guardians, I knew I had to start by destroying my own fledglings. Gabriel wasn’t my fledgling exactly, but he was just as much a Killer as the rest of them. I captured him with my glamour and I meant to behead him with my old sword.”

Drake shuddered, wishing he hadn’t asked.

“In the end,” Eli continued, “I found I couldn’t do it. I forced myself to swing, but I pulled up at the last moment.”

“The scar on his face …”

“Yes.”

Drake frowned. “But he was vampire when he was wounded!” And vampires don’t scar.

“I can come up with any number of explanations for that scar. Perhaps it was because of the iron sword. Perhaps it’s because he’s never been human that he’s vulnerable to scarring. Or maybe it had something to do with my own power.”

All of this gave Drake a little more insight into Gabriel’s state of mind, but didn’t really convince him that he wouldn’t turn on his mother. No one who carried that much rage around on his shoulders could truly be predictable.

“Perhaps given a little time to calm down, Camille will realize he couldn’t have been the one to order the attack,” Eli concluded.

“You would mourn him if he died.”

“Yes, Drake. I would. Though no doubt he deserves to die.” Eli’s voice sounded a bit husky, and he cleared his throat.

Under other circumstances, Drake might have felt sorry for Eli, for the burden of pain and guilt he carried. And maybe he would take the time to do so, once he got out of here. If he got out of here.

“What are the chances you can get Camille to release me?” Drake’s phone beeped to let him know its battery was running low.

“Not very good, I’m afraid. I can only assume she’s detaining you to punish me. But I’ll do what I can. Maybe once she realizes it wasn’t Gabriel who attacked her, she’ll calm down.”

The phone beeped again, then went dead.

“Dammit!” Drake said. What condition was he going to be in if and when Camille decided Gabriel wasn’t guilty? Right now, she was too busy planning her hunt to spare him much attention, but eventually she’d remember she had a whipping boy available to take her frustrations out on.

If by some miracle they both lived through this, Drake was going to make Jules very, very sorry he’d started this mess!

The first light of dawn was trying to struggle through the heavy clouds when Jules finally returned to the hotel. He hadn’t meant to be gone so long. He’d originally figured he’d give Hannah an hour of solitude. But when a quick psychic scan of the area told him there was another vampire nearby, he’d gone in pursuit.

Stupid, probably. One-on-one, he was no match for the Baltimore vampires. But at least this one had fled at Jules’s approach. He greatly preferred to keep any and all vampires—save himself—as far from Hannah as possible.

The vampire had led him on quite a chase, continually trying to circle back toward the hotel. No question about it, he and Hannah were going to have to change residences again. If only he could get her to leave him alone, go back to Philly where she’d be safe! Never mind that the thought of her leaving made his chest ache. He hated putting her in danger, and he would never forgive himself if something happened to her.

Shortly before dawn, his quarry eluded him, and Jules was left to return to the hotel, feeling like he was being watched the whole way.

He entered the room to find Hannah fast asleep on the bed, her knees curled to her chest in what looked like a defensive posture. He sat on the bed beside her, careful not to wake her, and softly stroked the cascade of curls that draped the pillow. Her cheeks showed no lingering trace of tears, and she had that freshly washed smell that said she’d showered very recently. Even so, Jules’s sensitive nose picked up the lingering scent of sex that bathed the room.

His throat knotted up, and he wondered if he should wake her after all so he could ask her what had happened. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had gone wrong, but he suspected it had something to do with how she’d opened herself up to him. She was not a woman who was comfortable with feminine vulnerability, and he suspected last night’s events had left her feeling vulnerable. Certainly it had left him that way.

Jules yawned and glanced at the window, where the feeble light was strengthening. Better to let Hannah sleep. He wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer, and he didn’t think this was a conversation they could finish in such a short time.

Not wanting to disturb Hannah, he lay on the floor between the bed and the wall and covered himself with his coat and a couple of sport jackets. It made for a stifling, uncomfortable bed, but the double layer increased the chances he could survive if he tossed and turned in his sleep.

If he’d been human, he’d have been far too uncomfortable to sleep. As it was, his mind started its drift into nothingness within seconds of his lying down.

***

Hannah woke to a subtle feeling of wrongness. She lay still, fighting the urge to yawn or stretch, and tried to figure out where that feeling came from. That was when she realized from the bright glow behind her closed eyes that there was way too much light in the room.

With a gasp, she sat up. “Jules!” she cried, flinging herself to the edge of the bed to see their impromptu second bed on the floor. She let out a huge sigh of relief when she saw the man-shaped lump, covered from head to toe with his cashmere coat and a couple of jackets.

Another burst of adrenaline shot through her system. She certainly hadn’t opened the curtains to let that much light in, and Jules wouldn’t have done it either. The hairs on the back of her neck prickling, she slowly turned to the windows.

Gabriel stood directly in a shaft of sunlight, arms folded over his chest as he regarded her with a distinctly amused expression. She swallowed hard. She hadn’t liked seeing him last night. She liked seeing him now, during the day, much less.

“Are you wearing SPF sixty or what?” she asked, folding her legs to sit Indian style in the middle of the bed. She could make a dash for her gun, but the effort seemed futile. Besides, if he wanted to kill her—or Jules—he probably would have done so by now.

Gabriel smiled, an expression that didn’t reach his icy eyes. She noted that while he had fixed his hair after its encounter with the baseball cap, he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. She supposed he couldn’t go home and change without running into Camille.

“Always ready with a quip, aren’t you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Guess so.” She didn’t want to know how old he was to be able to tolerate direct sunlight like that. “What are you doing here?”

“If you remember, I had some questions for your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, an automatic, knee-jerk response she wished she could swallow back. Could she sound more defensive?

Gabriel’s nostrils flared, and he gave her a knowing look. Suddenly, she remembered that vamps had really good senses of smell. She hated the blush that crawled up her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Trying to ignore her embarrassment, she glanced at her watch and frowned. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon. You have to know Jules won’t be awake for at least another hour.”

“Indeed I do.” Another one of those weird smiles of his. Hannah didn’t like it one bit. “I could have waited until sundown to do what I’m going to do,” he said. “I’m easily strong enough to keep both you and Jules under control. But if I did it in front of him, I’d feel obliged to be a hard-ass about it or it would spoil the effect.”

Fear congealed in her belly and the remnants of the blush vanished with all the other blood in her face. She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything, sure her voice would shake if she spoke. What was the freak planning to do? She didn’t want to know. Unfortunately, she was sure to find out.

“Don’t be afraid,” Gabriel said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I won’t hurt you.” He took a step toward her, and she scooted backward until his glamour seized her and wouldn’t let her move. Panic clawed at her and her breath came in short little gasps that didn’t seem to bring enough oxygen into her lungs. She hated it when Jules used glamour against her, but at least when he did it, she spaced out for the duration. Being fully aware and yet unable to move sucked—no pun intended!

Suddenly, Gabriel released his hold on her. She breathed easier, even though her situation hadn’t in truth improved.

“Don’t run away from me,” he said, “and I won’t immobilize you.” He sat on the edge of the bed, then reached out to grab her wrist. The grip was gentle, but unbreakable. “I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, then drew his lips back in a smile that revealed his fangs.

Hannah wasn’t able to stop the frightened whimper that escaped her throat, but she did her best to fight the fear. “As a Killer who’s showing fang, you lack a certain credibility.” Despite the smart-mouth words, her voice shook.

“I only kill mortals I don’t like. So far, you don’t fall into that category. I’ll let you know if and when that changes.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting at the moment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to bite you.”

She practically screamed. Her attempt to free her wrist from his grip was as fruitless as she’d suspected.

“Shh,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It won’t hurt. And I won’t feed, since I’d have to kill you to do that.”

She shivered. “Your bedside manner could use a little work.”

“I’m just going to leave a mark, a little something to remind Jules what’s at stake.”

She figured he probably meant that, but in her experience so far, vampires weren’t famous for their restraint. She reflexively put her hand to her throat, wanting to keep his mouth as far away from it as possible. She looked at those long, sharp fangs of his and shuddered. Who was he kidding, it wouldn’t hurt?