Authors: Jess Haines

Stalking the Others (21 page)

BOOK: Stalking the Others

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“Is that why you fight me now? You think I intend to rape you, feed from you, make you my slave ... ? Gods, but you are a foolish, irritating girl!”

“What did you do with Sara, you son of a bitch?” I hated that the question sounded so weak, that I couldn’t push him away.

He glared down at me, expression hardening for the first time. “You think I harmed her, do you? Did it ever occur to you that the police might come to me in search of you?”

I glared back, saying nothing.

“She is safe, as she always was while in my care. Dawn agreed to let Sara stay at her home until I could make other arrangements.” He pressed closer to me, those dark eyes sucking me in like quicksand, giving me no way to escape the weight of his presence or look away. “As for you—what have I ever done to make you think so ill of me, Shiarra? I’m tired of being seen as no more than a monster. This misguided attempt at removing me from your life doesn’t change that we are bound. My blood flows in your veins, like it or not. Many have killed for that privilege; you have no concept of what an honor it is. It’s unfair to me and to yourself to continuously deny that we have an unbreakable connection.

“Yes, it is true, my kind survives on blood. I’ve taken it by force when I needed to—but the current circumstances hardly warrant such behavior. I have no intention of forcing you to give any part of yourself to me.”

“Then why won’t you let me go?” I whispered.

A thrill of shock ran through me when he sat back on his heels, his hands briefly brushing over the sides of my breasts and my ribs as he pulled away. He didn’t reach for me when I scooted across the bed until my back hit the headboard, nor make any move to stop me as I tucked my knees under my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs.

“I didn’t let you go immediately because you might have run or made some foolish attempt at attacking me and mine again. You wouldn’t have listened to reason. Now that you are listening, I have no need to use force.” That’s when he smiled, the familiar wicked grin showing a hint of fang, sending a shiver through me.

“Stop doing that!” I demanded, hating the shrill waver to my voice, but unable to do anything about it.

“Doing what?”

I pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at the one visible fang. His smile widened, revealing both extended canines. “That! Put those away!”

He laughed. “Would that I had the control ... Until you calm yourself, it’s unlikely I’ll manage. Now, to business. You are not to wear that belt again—ever.”

I latched onto the anger that flared up at that statement, liking it more than the quivering terror I’d been subjected to only a moment ago. “You don’t own me!”

“No, but whatever is inside that artifact would have if I hadn’t intervened. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized just how much it was altering you. I won’t have that.”

That gave me pause. It had a ring of truth to it that I didn’t like at all. “What are you talking about?”

“As I mentioned the last time we met, I have been quite aware of your emotional state these last few weeks. When you finally calmed, I knew you hadn’t turned Were, and that something had changed. Yet, hours later, you were back in a murderous mindset. And where did you go? Back here, to me. I gave Wesley instructions to detain you so I could see for myself what was causing the problem. Most of that rage has faded with the dawn, leaving the logical conclusion that the belt has been responsible for your inability to think rationally or control your need to hunt. I had put it down to the unfortunate events you’d had to deal with during your little vacation, but it seems there was far more to it than either of us had guessed.”

That was a very terrible thing to consider. Had my actions really been mine this month? How much of what I’d thought and done had been the result of Isaac’s manipulations?

Chapter 30

Royce said nothing while I sat there, second-guessing everything I had said and done for the last several weeks. His words seemed to have shed some light on memories and feelings that had been hidden behind the blindness of rage and hatred that had driven me for so long.

Though I was still frightened of and angry at the vampire, he was right. When I concentrated on it, I could recall moments of doubt and a desire to stop that had faded away like smoke on the wind once I put the belt on. The need to hurt and kill had grown stronger over time, fueled by my fear of change.

“Isaac,” I said, my voice a faint whisper, then paused. “The belt. What will you do with it?”

“I trust Wesley will find some convenient place to bury it. You are not to go looking for it under any circumstances. Once I am assured it has lost its hold on you, if you wish, you may have your guns back.”

I didn’t say anything, breath hitching in my throat. Seeing my expression, his softened.

“I understand you want to right the wrongs done to you, and that you want nothing but safety for your friends. However, I won’t let you do it at the expense of your own life, or at the risk of my people. Not if I can prevent it. Did you know that the belt was infecting you? That it would have taken you over completely if you had continued to wear it?”

Dull horror pierced through my shock, and I choked out a few words. “I knew it was doing something to me. Changing me. I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“No. No, you wouldn’t have. I do hope you don’t mind ...” He waved a hand at me, and I blushed anew at my lack of clothes. He shifted on the bed, and I pressed harder against the headboard—but all he was doing was settling on his side, knuckles tucked under his cheek as he regarded me. His expression was bland and his mannerisms were casual, but the sparkle in his eye and the way he watched me made it clear he was getting quite a kick out of my current state of undress. “Putting you at a disadvantage seemed the most expedient way to shock some sense back into you.”

“Oh, gee, thanks a lot,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to keep fighting me, you know. We could consummate this twisted relationship of ours, put an end to all of the difficulties between us.” He smiled again, one fingertip tracing down my bare leg, making goose bumps rise on my flesh. I jerked back, slapping at his hand. “I would not be averse to using baser methods to prove to you how foolish these notions of yours about me are. That wasn’t my intention when I started, but I know you’re curious.” He closed his eyes and inhaled, deeply, so there was no mistaking what he was doing. Creepy bastard. “I can smell it on you, taste it in the air. There’s nothing quite like the scent of a woman’s desire. It suits you—far better than that rubbish from The Circle you’re using to hide your emotions.”

I scowled at him, flushing all the way to my toes. “You—you sick—”

“Now, now—no false accusations. Am I wrong?”

I didn’t answer, glaring at that shiny ruby on his tie again, my hands clenching into impotent fists.

“Fight it all you want, but you know you’re attracted to me. We’re contracted, yes, but I won’t do anything to harm you. I find it difficult to believe that you have not realized this by now, particularly as this is not the first time I’ve had to reassure you that I do not now, nor have I ever, meant you any harm. You no longer have the moral dilemma of your boyfriend in the way. So, what is it that is stopping you? What are you so afraid of?”

It took a moment for me to find the words. When I met his eyes, I did nothing to dampen or hide my rage and frustration and fear of the situation. “You. I’m afraid of you. You’re—sort of—nice to me now, but what will you do with me after you get what you want? What do I do when I’m left with nothing but need for you, a slave like ...”

I stopped, thinking. Who in this household would match that description? Who did I know who was like those kids screaming and crying for their lost, dead master in the police station some—what was it? Three years ago, now? It bothered me that, though I knew that some of the people in this household had to be bound and that all of the humans in this building were donors, not a one truly fit that mold.

It hung me up long enough that Royce finished my sentence for me. “A slave like the unfortunate Renfield in Mr. Stoker’s fairytale? Like you were when Max and I bound you to us by blood?”

I said nothing.

“Shiarra, I could have forced you to remain by my side when I bound you the first time. Use your head. You must think very little of me if you think I have pursued you only to make you some mindless puppet. I’m not Max Carlyle; I don’t intentionally set out to hurt those weaker than I am. What value would you be to me, broken and without that vital spark that makes you so precious to me? Just because you’re afraid you couldn’t stop me doesn’t mean I’m about to take advantage.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure what for. Since when had I been precious to him? And hadn’t he been on the verge of “taking advantage” of me only a minute or so ago? “I don’t trust you. I don’t know how. You’re”—
a monster
. I left the rest unsaid.

He sighed. “I’m not about to make you do something you don’t want to. What I don’t understand is why you keep denying yourself. You know as well as I do that I won’t force the bond or anything else on you. Really, what are you afraid I’ll do to you?”

“You’ll bite me,” I said, small voiced.

His brows arched, and he sat up, leaning toward me. “Is that all it is? You don’t want to feel that again?”

“No!” I cried, the admonishing finger I waved at him trembling, even as anger rose up to quash any lingering sense of desire or curiosity I might have been harboring. “I won’t go through it again, Royce. Not with you, not with anybody. It’s bad enough I wonder sometimes what it would be like, what you could make me feel—I’ve already lost everything else. If you touch me, I won’t be
me
anymore. Don’t you understand? I don’t want to lose what little is left. It’s all I have.”

He studied the tears tracing down my cheeks, the way my other hand rubbed at the ghost of bite marks on my throat—which I stopped as soon as I realized what I was doing—and his unruffled visage shattered into a deep frown of concern. I hated so much that he could look so calm and sincere, when all I could think about was that night when I had been trapped under the weight of a vampire who had only waited long enough to hear me scream in terror before stealing the life from my veins.

When Royce spoke, his composure grated on my nerves far more than it should have. How could he be so collected when I was falling apart right in front of him?

“The sharing of blood isn’t a horrible, monstrous thing when it’s done between two people who care for each other. What we have may not be love or lust, but there is desire and the potential for friendship between us. All I wish to do is explore and perhaps even solidify that connection. You’ve not done so much as given me the courtesy of a moment’s consideration to my wants or needs.”

“You haven’t exactly done the same,” I accused.

“Not true. I respected your wishes in the situation with Max. I provided you and your friend shelter when I had nothing to gain. I have spent time, money, and other resources to preserve your life even when you seemed bent on destroying yourself. I don’t think I need to explain to you how unusual it is for one of my kind to be so selfless—I’ve not felt so compelled to be so for anyone in centuries. And yet you spurn me at every turn, as though you see me as some terrible, wicked creature.”

“Maybe I do,” I countered, bristling at the accuracy of his statements. “Why do you keep trying to foist yourself on me, then? You’re no saint, Royce. Not even close, and don’t try to pretend that you’ve only done what you have out of the goodness of your heart. What do you have to gain?”

“Must I have an ulterior motive for everything that I do?”

“Answer the question,” I snapped.

He regarded me steadily, saying nothing for a long moment. I was beginning to think he was going to ignore my demand before he spoke again.

“As I have told you before, you underestimate your worth. While there are many who answer to me, I value those of great will and strength and courage over the many who only work for me and mine because of some perceived chance at immortality or power. You have no idea what a rarity it is to find a person who will speak to me so plainly, particularly one who does not crave what I can do to or for them. It is not something I intend to let slip away. True, you are neither terribly wise nor clever—but your valor is what sets you apart. Your damnable stubbornness, or perhaps your prejudice, is all that stands in the way of what could be a mutually beneficial relationship. You so readily turn me away when I doubt you have any idea what it would really be like for you to allow me the liberties our contract grants me. I admit, your continuous efforts at rejecting anything and everything I have ever offered you—save when you had no other choice—both intrigues and irritates me. I’m not used to being thwarted, Ms. Waynest.”

“Oh, we’re back to ‘Ms. Waynest’ now? Well, Mr. Royce, I didn’t take you up on your offer because I don’t
want
to be bitten. Unlike some people I could mention, I
want
my freedom. Did you ever consider that?”

He didn’t rise to my bait, remaining calm in the face of my anger. “Your safety and your freedom are hardly at stake with me, and I have no intentions of involving myself in the minutiae of your every waking move. Answering to me would be much like answering to your business partner—if a bit more intimate.” The slight twitch at the corner of his lips and the way his eyes glittered were the only things that betrayed his amusement with my horrified gasp. “Now. Have you ever honestly considered letting me touch you, or have you only said ‘no’ out of reflex? Or to spite me?”

That shut me up. We stared at each other across the vast chasm of different worlds; he was trying to build a bridge over that nothingness to make me see vampirism in a different light. Knowing it didn’t make it any easier to pause and take an honest look at the situation. He didn’t give me time to come up with an argument or justification.

“Max and his people had no consideration for your feelings or safety. I do. I promise you that you are in safe hands with me. It’s not the same experience when it’s done with someone who cares about their donor. Give me a chance to prove that to you, Shiarra. Give me the opportunity to prove to you that it is not as bad as you fear.”

I shifted my gaze down to my knees, fighting the urge to let the cold fingers of terror creeping up my spine translate into a shudder. My hands tightened in the sheets at the mention of Max. Being bitten by him and Peter were harsh memories I’d sooner leave to rot in the back of my mind. Having them brought up here, now, did nothing to soothe my fears.

Yet he did have a point. I’d never given him a chance before. Not by any stretch of the imagination. My phobia of being bitten had grown stronger after the two vampires forced themselves on me—vampires who didn’t care overmuch whether I survived the experience.

The only times Royce had ever hurt me had been when he was under compulsion by the
Dominari
Focus. Outside of that, he’d been physically forceful at times, but had never actually forced himself upon me.

His behavior was a far cry from that of Peter or Max. Could I trust him? Could I really put my life in his hands?

I couldn’t honestly say no, but just the thought of saying yes made my stomach give a sick lurch.

Perhaps sensing my weakening resolve, he slowly edged closer to me until he could wrap an arm around my shoulder, cradling me to his chest. I started to resist, but then shame at realizing that made me guilty of doing just as he had said—resisting out of reflex—soon had me relaxing against him. I breathed in the scent of mint and some spicy cologne with only the faintest undertone of copper as he lightly stroked my hair, then urged me to rest my cheek against his shoulder.

His touch, though cool, was not unpleasant or unwelcome. He didn’t speak again, waiting with the patience of an immortal for me to give him my answer.

I couldn’t deny that a tiny part of me wanted to know. I wanted to know what he could do, what made him different. Why he had pursued me so heavily despite my adamant refusals.

As I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling for a heartbeat that wasn’t there, he held me as he had when I had wept for the loss of my livelihood and my friends and my family last month—what felt like a lifetime ago. I had the feeling he would respect my decision if I said no; that this might be the last time he would ever ask so much from me. He gave no sign of eagerness or anger, only patience. When I tilted my head up to look at him again, he met my gaze evenly with those black, inhuman eyes, letting his hand come to rest on my shoulder.

Whatever my choice, it was one I could never change or take back. This would alter everything between us.

I leaned up to press a brief, chaste kiss against his cheek. “Okay, Royce. Alec. Okay. You can have your chance.”

BOOK: Stalking the Others

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