Zero to Love (19 page)

Magda sank to the edge of her bed, struggling to center her mind on a task. Whatever was happening to her had to be because of Monroe. She’d tethered herself to him, and he was so high she was yanked off the ground.

Keefe knocked softly on the door, galvanizing her into action. She pulled on a silk robe and knotted the tie around her waist. With a glance down to ensure her cleavage was covered, she wondered why she bothered. Keefe had probably carried her naked up the stairs and placed her into bed.

She told him to come in.

He entered with a half grin. The last moment she remembered seeing him, he’d been fucking the blonde. “What’s up?”

“Did you…did we…”

He stared at her as if trying to figure out what she meant.

“Can’t you see my mind?” she asked.

He pointed at her chest. She jerked a hand to her throat, circled by the golden chain holding the pendant. “You’re going to have to communicate with words while wearing that or being near that.” He cocked his head toward the lamp her mother had made.

Her knees suddenly buckled, and she ended up on the bed again. He came into the room and squatted before her.

“I’m terrified of what’s happening to me,” she whispered thickly.

His harsh features transformed into a gentle expression. He placed his hand over hers where it rested on her leg.

“We’re taking care of you.”

“How? By giving me juice and girls?”

A smirk quirked on his hard mouth. “Fucking hot, wasn’t it?”

Yes. I want more
. “Monroe wouldn’t approve.”

“Monroe gave us instruction to provide whatever you needed.”

A flush stole over her. “Monroe wants me to have sex with these women? And why are they here all of a sudden? Who are they? Keefe, you have to help me understand.” Her voice broke.

He pushed out a sigh. “I wish I understood it myself, sweetheart. You’re in the middle of a transformation.”

“I’m becoming a Mindchanger.” It wasn’t a question. Awareness prickled through her.

But Keefe gave an absent shake of his head. “I don’t even know that. You see, no one
becomes
a Mindchanger. We just
are
.”

Her throat closed off. Great. She was even different among those who might understand her. For her entire life, had she ever truly fit in? Her father, brother, and even her uncle had set her apart. Later with boyfriends, she’d known they weren’t for her, and what she had craved was something entirely different.

Zero-nine. Where the fuck are you?

“What if I want Monroe?”

“Then take that necklace off and get out of this room so he can hear you.”

She sucked in a breath. Now that Keefe had stated it so baldly, she perversely didn’t want to reach Monroe at all. He’d hurt her with Elise. If it had been any other woman, she might have understood. It was food, after all. But knowing Elise had pursued Monroe created an intimate cloud around them.

If she was honest with herself, Magda felt a certain connection to Elise as well. Actually she knew a great protectiveness for all the women who had come to her recently.

Keefe was staring at her. Magda shook her head. “Not yet. But can you tell me that he’s safe?”

Keefe nodded instantly. Too instantly. “He is.”

Magda didn’t like the crease between his brows. And when he stood and strode to the door to avoid her questioning looks, she liked it even less.

He gripped the handle. She gained her feet and looked at him, drilling through his flesh into the pathways to his mind. The flavor of his thoughts filled her, so close to the sweetness of the juice, her mouth watered.

No, it’s my imagination.

“Tell me what’s going on, Keefe.” The commanding tone took her by surprise and him too, if the widening of his eyes was indication.

The knob of his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his long, tanned throat. He shook his head and twisted the handle to leave.

“Keefe.” Her voice boomed, seeming to ricochet around the space. He jerked and spun to face her. Dropping to his knees, he waited while she approached him.

She touched his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. “You can’t withhold information from me.”

“No, my One. I will not. You’re getting close to transforming. Your power shoves me to my knees. How are you doing it?”

She ignored his question. “Tell me about Monroe.” The thirst was slowly crawling up her throat, but she swallowed hard to stave it off. She couldn’t go on her juice bender right now. She needed to remain lucid.

“Monroe is…” He begged with his eyes. She applied pressure to his shoulder and forced him to hold her stare.

“Monroe’s in trouble. He’s almost so weak he can’t remember how to feed.”

* * * *

By the time the plane circled the lush island surrounded by the rich, turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, Monroe was half-gone, his mind a parched wasteland.

He should have known better than to attempt a transatlantic flight without glutting himself before boarding. The plane was the same as the subway—he couldn’t hear a single thought in order to feed. He’d endangered himself by coming to Sicily to find Vincent Brunelli.

His mind slowed, and he mentally forced himself to find a way out of the plane. The door was open, and he was the only passenger left.

Stumbling off, he frantically stared at humans who could feed him. What was he supposed to do?

Thoughts flitted by him. He hit his knees. When his jaw bounced off the hard floor, he drifted for a long minute. Sounds entered his consciousness, but he couldn’t make sense of them.

“A man’s collapsed…”

“Where?”

“Don’t touch him. He’s a Mindchanger.”

“He’s going to die. He’s starving! Can’t I help him?”

Yes. Feed me.

He roused enough to roll onto his side. A man tried to tear his woman away from Monroe, who stared at her, waiting for her to give.

Nothing came.

A slow thought flipped in his mind.
Feelers.

He reached, but she was too far. He too weak.

The walls of his mind shrank a bit more.

He twisted his hand palm up, hoping the woman gave him what he needed, but the tunnel of blackness was closing in, barreling at him like a runaway train.

Magda, I’m sorry.

* * * *

Warmth bathed his face, sinking deep into his skin. Behind his eyelids, orange rays seeped in and lit his dark mind.

He cracked one eye open and blinked into the pool of sunlight he lay in.

“So you’re not dead.” A dusky, accented female voice near his ear jolted him.

Faintly he was aware of her flavor in his mind. She’d fed him—the woman whose husband had restrained her.

“You risked yourself.” He dragged himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found himself on a red velvet cushion of a church pew.

Not any church. A magnificent cathedral one only saw in Italy. Walnut and gilded walls, stained-glass windows that begged for him to stare at them for hours. A faint chant of prayer rippled over him.

He swung his gaze to the woman—Deletta. Feminine with dark waves over her shoulders and eyes that she’d forced him to stare into.

“Thank you for what you did. Really.”

A flush covered her high cheekbones, and she ducked her head. “Now that I know you’re all right, I must go.”

Before she could stand, he encircled her wrist. “How can I repay you?”

She shook her head. “I did it for myself. There once was…” She met his gaze, and he saw it all—a Mindchanger and stolen kisses, exchanged passion. She’d fed that supernatural willingly, but her family had put a stop to it.

He nodded. “I see. Go, then, and thank you.”

She scuttled from the pew and took off down the aisle to the large doors. A beam of sunlight burst through the crack she made when she opened them; then she and the light were gone.

Monroe scuffed a hand over his face and snatched two errant thoughts from the air around him. Stupid food that had nothing to do with the prayers of the patrons.

A man took his place before the altar and began to chant prayers over and over. Mass would begin soon.

After gathering himself off the pew, Monroe had started out of the building when he caught it. Now that he was strong enough, he got a glimpse into a particular mind.

He dropped heavily onto the pew again and trained his gaze on the back of the man sitting near the front of the cathedral. Salt-and-pepper hair not unlike his brother’s. His mind much fuller than his brother’s, however.

What are the chances?
How had he ended up in this place with Vincent Brunelli?

Of course the town was much smaller than Helgedom. Deletta had fed him enough to get him on his feet. Then she’d brought him here knowing people were congregating, and he would be able to easily feed.

And Vincent was simply attending services.

Monroe had managed to align himself perfectly. He’d call it luck, but he didn’t believe that events weren’t taking place because of some cosmic accident. No more than he believed Magda had accidentally stumbled into his life.

He let go of Vincent for a minute to search for Magda. Time and space meant nothing to him. He zeroed in on Keefe, who was near her. While Magda was silent to Monroe—wearing the thought catcher—he got a good, long look into Keefe.

“Fuck,” he murmured.

Visions rocketed through his mind: Magda in a drunken state with her juice, staring, entranced. Then Monroe was pounded by images of a sexual feast taking place in her home. Keefe fucking a blonde who fed him sweet thoughts of lust while he sank into her core.

And Magda splayed on the sofa, a woman named Sara between her thighs, giving Magda an orgasm that lasted longer than any she’d had before.

And the humming.

A soughing noise had burst from her while she came—a sound so similar to that of the frozen Mindchangers that his stomach cramped with hunger.

When he recovered from ingesting this information, he snatched another errant thought from a man two pews ahead of him.

Greens for dinner.

Monroe continued to rifle through Keefe’s mind at will, selecting only information about Magda.

He snapped his hands into fists, and a roar lodged in his throat.

Keefe had carried her up to bed, naked from her orgy. It wasn’t the fact that she gained pleasure without Monroe in attendance that bothered him. No, it was Keefe’s hands on her bare flesh.

Mine.

Keefe roused, aware that Monroe was in his head. But he didn’t respond to Monroe’s anger—only fed him a new image.

Magda standing before Keefe, who was on his knees. Commanding him to give her information about Monroe. And there was more—when she touched his shoulder, he had realized she no longer had fingerprints.

One.

She was transforming into something so pure the Mindchanger race had never seen her like. But what was she? And why?

A yearning ate at Monroe’s insides.
When I’m finished with Vincent and I have what I need, I’m coming back for you, Magda.

He tipped onto his feet and exited the pew. He drifted up the main aisle to the pew directly behind Vincent’s. When he seated himself behind the man, a rush of excitement struck him.

Easily he was able to dig through Vincent’s memories. But he wanted to look into his eyes. He tapped him on the shoulder.

Vincent pivoted his head and glanced at Monroe from the corner of his eye. His face drained of color. Monroe grabbed his shoulders and turned him so he was able to stare at him fully.

Vincent twisted and turned in Monroe’s hold, trying to escape. He raised a fist to strike out, but Monroe knocked it aside.

“You will give me what I need,” he growled.

People around them fled to the far reaches of the church, leaving Vincent and Monroe alone.

“You bastard, I’ll give you nothing!”

Monroe caught Vincent’s swinging fist again and squeezed until the bones flexed.

Panting, Vincent slumped forward.

Monroe trapped him with his gaze, refusing to let him withhold even a scrap of information. Vincent opened his mouth, creating a macabre red slash in his white face.

“Give it all up to me. I need to see why you’ve protected her all these years.”

Information flooded Monroe. He processed it as fast as the pure numbers of the cathedral. He saw that Vincent and Giovanni had created an allegiance against the Mindchangers, an underground organization that intended to gain in strength until the time was right to attack. Ridding Helgedom of the Mindchangers was their only goal.

That and keeping Magda from them.

But why? Monroe scraped the walls of Vincent’s mind and met with the same spongy resistance as in Magda’s father.

A thought to protect Magda rose in Vincent, and Monroe sucked it out, devouring it whole. He swelled with power and pushed harder on the walls. Something wasn’t right about the barriers Vincent and Giovanni shared. They’d been placed there, but by whom?

Monroe held Vincent’s dark gaze, refusing to release him. “Give me what I need to understand her.”

Vincent’s voice was a hot knife. “Never.”

Monroe tightened his grip on Vincent’s shoulders. “Give it up to me. I don’t know how you’re hiding it, but I need to know what she is.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He shook Vincent. “You do. She’s transforming, and you know why. It’s the reason you’ve protected her all this time.”

Vincent moved his head back and forth, mouth slack, though he was unable to disengage his gaze. He started to tremble.

“She has a thought catcher in her room. Her space is a hive, created to protect her. Why?” Monroe pressed harder but found no way in. Still instinct told him the barriers concealed information. To a common Mindchanger, it would have looked as if Vincent didn’t know the answers either. But Monroe was no ordinary Mindchanger. He knew better.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Her mother was connected to Mindchangers.”

Something moved inside the corner of Vincent’s brain, and Monroe pounced on it. He shoved hard, and the wall crumbled.

Information flooded out like water gushing around a broken dam. Monroe drank it in, drawing every drop of information about Magda’s mother from Vincent.