Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3) (4 page)

She picked up a chunk of glass and shivered. “You think Aidan is the one we need to fear.”

“I think Aidan is already powerful enough. I think vampires—Jane being the damn exception—live to kill and destroy. What the fuck happens to an alpha werewolf when he suddenly has all of those dark desires?”
I don’t want Aidan losing the humanity he has.
“I tried to get Jane to drink from me instead. I thought maybe that would be safer.”

Her hand fisted around the glass. “Let me guess, Aidan didn’t like that plan.”

He raked his hand over his face. “Serious understatement.”

Her gaze met his.

“So what am I supposed to do now? How do I help him?”

She put down the chunk of glass and slowly rose to her feet. Her steps were silent as she rounded the table and came to his side. Then her hand lifted and touched his arm. Paris swore that touch singed him. “You be his friend. You stay close to him. And if you see him crossing a line…” Her breath whispered out. “Stop him.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Like stopping an alpha was child’s play.

“I’ll see what else I can learn. I’ll scry. I’ll check my books. We
will
fix this. Aidan is a good man. And Jane isn’t going to let him go into the darkness.” For an instant, he could actually feel the swirl of magic around them. He stared into Annette’s eyes and saw her gaze go distant, as if she were watching something he couldn’t see. “She’d follow him into the darkness,” Annette murmured. “Long before she ever surrendered him.”

That didn’t make him feel better. It made him worry even more.

***

Annette watched Paris as he drove away. His shoulders had slumped as he left the Voodoo Shop, as if he carried a terrible burden.

He did.

Paris was right to be afraid. All of the wolves should be afraid. A change was coming, she could practically feel it in the air. She went back inside, making sure to shut and lock the door behind her. She wasn’t in the mood for tourists that day. Didn’t feel like making love potions or telling of what fates might come.

She almost wanted to hide because the danger she felt…it was that consuming.

Annette headed into the back of the shop—into the room that was her haven. Her steps quickened and—

“I was starting to think the wolf would never leave.”

She stilled.

The man who’d been waiting for her—the
vampire
who’d arrived to visit her just moments before Paris appeared on her doorstep—lifted one brow. “What? You knew I was waiting.” Vincent Connor smiled at her.

Yes, she’d known he was hiding out of sight, but Paris hadn’t so much as scented the vamp, a bad thing. Werewolves were supposed to have the best noses in the world. “You really do have some powerful magic.” Or rather, she suspected he had one very powerful witch working for him.

Vincent laughed. “It’s just a little trick to disguise my scent. And if I didn’t move, I knew the wolf wouldn’t hear me. It’s not like Paris is an alpha.”

No, but Paris was still plenty strong and dangerous. There was a reason he was the alpha’s assassin.

Vincent lifted both of his hands and put them in front of his body. A gesture that she knew was supposed to show he was no threat.

Too bad she always believed vamps were threats.

“Despite what the alpha believes, I am really not here to hurt anyone. I don’t know how many times I have to say it but…not all vamps are monsters. We aren’t all driven mad by bloodlust. Born vampires—vamps like me, vamps like Jane—we stay in control. We were meant to be this way. It’s only the ones who are transformed that go mad. And really, how can you blame them? They are becoming something that nature never intended. Humans weren’t meant to be vampires. They can’t handle that kind of power.”

She scooped up a few chunks of broken glass. “What about werewolves?”

His hands fell. “I heard what Paris said.”

I know you did.

“And I’ve maintained, all along, that Jane and Aidan never should have been involved. Vamps and werewolves aren’t meant to be together. I’m afraid that when Jane tries to leave him, Aidan won’t be quite…sane about it.”

Now she was the one to laugh, a shocked laugh of disbelief. “You actually think Jane will leave Aidan? She loves him.”

“Love isn’t always enough. Especially where monsters are concerned.” He paced closer to her and his index finger tapped against her fist, the fist that she’d made over the chunks of glass. “So that’s what became of your magic mirror.”

Her eyes turned to slits. The guy was
mocking
her?

“Too bad. I think we could have all used your foresight about now.” He exhaled. “How are we supposed to stop the threats, if we never see them coming?”

Such a very good question.

His hand slipped away from hers. “The alpha wants me to stay away from Jane.”

She dropped the glass onto the table. “Do you blame him?”

“I’m not Jane’s enemy, no matter what he thinks. Everything I’ve done, it’s been because I wanted to help her achieve her destiny.”

Now he was getting all sanctimonious on her.

“Soon enough, Jane will see reason. And when she does…” He handed her a slip of paper. “Make sure she gives me a call. I will
always
be there to help Jane.”

Right. Fabulous. “I think you’d better focus more on getting out of the city. Aidan isn’t a man you want as an enemy, but you sure have pissed him off.”

His lips thinned. “I don’t run from wolves.”

Maybe you should.

“Goodbye…for now, voodoo queen.” He gave her a little bow and then sauntered away.

She put his card on her table, right next to her broken chunks of glass. She stared into the glass and, for just an instant, she saw fire.

Fire…

And a vamp rising.

***

“You sure you can handle this?”

Jane glanced over at her police captain. Vivian Harris stood with her in the too bright hallway of the Hathway Psychiatric Facility. Vivian’s badge was pinned to her belt, but the captain didn’t have her weapon with her—both Jane and Vivian had been ordered to surrender their weapons at check-in.

It didn’t exactly work out well to have loaded firearms around mental patients.

A guard stood just a few feet away, watching the exchange between Jane and Vivian.

“I can talk to the prisoner,” Vivian assured her. “You don’t have to do this.” Vivian’s suit didn’t sport so much as a single wrinkle and her hair was pulled back in a twist, emphasizing the elegant lines of her cheeks and jaw. Her coffee skin gleamed, even under the horrible lights, and her gaze was steady as it focused on Jane.

Sympathy.
Jane could see the emotion in her captain’s eyes. Vivian pitied her. Just when Jane had thought things couldn’t get worse.
I want Vivian’s respect, not her pity.

Jane’s shoulders straightened. “Drew hasn’t talked to anyone else. He’s not going to speak, not unless he’s talking to me.” She had to go into that little room and see her brother. She’d been dreading this meeting…dreading it from the moment she realized that death wasn’t going to keep her in its tight grip. Drew would know that she should have died after that shooting spree that
he’d
initiated. And when she walked into that room…

What will happen then?

“Just make sure the security camera in his room is turned off,” Jane whispered. “We don’t exactly want anyone getting a record of this little chat.”

Vivian knew the score. After all, she was a werewolf, one of the many wolves in positions of power in New Orleans.

“Don’t worry,” Vivian assured her as she inclined her head toward the silent, watchful guard. “That’s already been handled.”

The guard nodded back toward her.

Another werewolf?
And to think Jane hadn’t even been aware of the werewolves, not until a few months ago. How quickly things had changed.

“Your brother has been restrained,” Vivian told her. “So you don’t have to worry—”

Jane’s sad smile stopped her words. “I don’t have to worry that—what? He’ll try to kill me? Been there, done that.” But she still hesitated to put her hand on the door knob and open the damn door.
Coward. I am a coward at my core.
Jane licked her lips and risked a quick glance at Vivian once more. “Are we good?” She blurted out those words in a really, terribly awkward way.

Vivian’s dark brows shot up. “Good?”

Jane waved her hand between them. “Yeah. Me. You. Me being all…” Jane pointed at her mouth.
Vampire-like.
Only there was no “like” to it. She was a vampire. And as a werewolf, how did that make Vivian feel? Did it—

“You don’t come at my throat, you don’t start draining any humans, and yes, we’re good,” Vivian said briskly.

But Jane still had to push. “You don’t…feel the urge to attack me?” It was that way for other vampires. Aidan
should
have killed her as soon as she’d transformed. Paris should have gone for her throat but…

They hadn’t.

Because I had so much of Aidan’s blood in me. Werewolf and vampire all combined.

“I don’t,” Vivian said simply. Her head cocked. “You want to tell me why that’s so?”

I’m a crazy vamp-slash-werewolf. That’s why.
Jane knew her smile was weak as she said, “I’d better go and talk to my brother.” Before any
non-
werewolf guards started their shifts and wondered why the video surveillance in Drew Hart’s room wasn’t working.

Squaring her shoulders, Jane took a deep breath. Then she reached for the handle on his door and she stepped inside.

The walls were yellow. Cheery. Sunlight spilled through the blinds and through the bars that were on the lone window.

A sharp gasp came from the right and Jane’s head turned—and her eyes clashed with a gaze that was just as dark as her own. Her older brother, Drew, was in bed.
Strapped
down to the bed. His dark hair was a stark contrast to the white pillow case. His body strained on the bed as he twisted and heaved against the restraints. “
Mary Jane.”
His gaze widened as he seemed to drink her in. “Thank God…
Mary Jane.
”

She shut the door behind her and then Jane pressed her back to it. Not a wooden door—metal. Reinforced. She stared at her brother as her heart twisted in her chest.

“You’re okay.” His voice was rasping. “So glad you’re okay.”

She was far from okay.

“I had to kill the werewolf, you understand that, right?” His hands had fisted. “He was evil. Dangerous.”

“Aidan isn’t evil.” She couldn’t move. Her brother’s face was lined, pale, showing the strain from his recent hospital stay. But she’d read the reports on him—he was healing fast. Almost too fast.

At her words, Drew’s dark brows shot up. “Isn’t…
isn’t evil. Isn’t?”
Drew heaved against the restraints once more. His handsome face reddened. “I shot him! Are you saying he’s still alive? He should’ve died! He should’ve—”

“You shot
me
.” She kept her voice flat with an effort. Her brother had apparently been dead silent for days but the minute he saw her…

I knew he’d talk.

“You jumped in front of him,” Drew muttered. “I never meant to hit you. I was so scared. So worried…but you’re here. You’re alive.”

And she couldn’t help it. Jane shook her head.

He stopped struggling against his restraints. “Mary Jane?”

“You have to let go of all that rage you carry inside,” she told him, her chest still burning. “It’s destroying you. I saw it…for years. Like a festering wound. Just getting worse and worse, never better. I stayed away from you because I saw what you’d become. I thought I was making it all worse. Making you remember…”

Vampires. Death.

Hell.

She took a step away from the wall. Then another. She walked slowly until she reached the edge of his bed, then she stared down at Drew. His hair was mussed, sweat beaded his brow, and his eyes….

“You killed me, Drew.
You
did that.”

“No!” He screamed the denial. “I was just trying to stop the werewolf! He’s a monster! He thought you
loved
him!” Drew gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “You don’t belong with someone like that. Some
thing
like that!”

“I do love him.”

Drew shook his head.

“And I love you.” That part hurt so much. “Even with what you did, I still love you.” That was why it hurt so much to look at him. When Jane gazed at her brother, she remembered the boy who’d pulled her from hell one dark night. A dirty hand, reaching out to help her.

Her side seemed to burn. Her side—her scar. The twisting mark that she’d been given when she was just eleven years old. A twisted, sadistic vampire named Thane Durant had broken into her home. He’d killed her mother and step-father, then he’d tied Jane to the table in the basement. He’d pulled out a soldering pen and burned the Greek letter Omega into her skin as she screamed.

Omega.
The end. Is that what I am?

“You aren’t dead, Mary Jane.” Drew wasn’t screaming any longer. He was whispering. “I see you. You’re right here. You’re breathing. You’re talking. You’re—”

Jane leaned down close to him and in his ear, she whispered, “I’m a vampire.”

His whole body jerked as he tried to pull away—from her. Her gaze slid to his forearm and the tattoo there, a tattoo of the Greek letter Omega. A tattoo to match her burn. Only he’d chosen to get that tattoo. He’d said he’d done it to remind him of her.

The pain in her heart just got worse.

“If you get free,” Jane asked him, “what will you do?”

He wasn’t looking at her. Just staring at the far wall.

“Will you come after me again? Go after Aidan?”

Again, no answer. Drew just kept staring at that wall as if it held all the secrets in the universe.

Her laughter was sad. “The silent treatment, huh? Aren’t you tired of that bit?” Then, driven too far, Jane just broke. She caught his chin in her hand and wrenched his face toward her. She stared at him, their faces inches apart. “I am not your enemy.”

His jaw hardened. “Get me the fuck out of here.”