Dante parked the motorcycle in the alley by The Dark Side, right under the “No Parking” sign. Donna followed him to the back entrance doorway, the one she’d fallen out through a few days earlier.
“Just so you know,” she told him, “that stupid door doesn't have a handle.”
“It doesn't need one.” He made a phone call and said, “I'm at the door.” A few seconds later, a buzzer sounded and the door popped open.
Of course.
Donna rolled her eyes and followed Dante in. They walked through the club, Donna sticking like glue to Dante, who strode confidentially past people on the dance floor, like a badass ballerina. Dante stopped suddenly near the bar.
“Stay here,” he instructed, then sought out the person he'd apparently come to see; the bouncer who'd been working the night of Mo's grand plan. Bruce? Donna only remembered his girlfriend's name was Liz. She scanned the bar for her, seeking a friendly face, but instead of Liz, a pink-haired bartender wearing a red and black lace bra under a see-through shirt glowered at Donna. Her hair had just come out of a helmet. She was wearing no make-up and an old pair of sweats. At least the glowering bartender couldn't see the bare feet and goddess toes, though the rest of the look still earned Donna a scowl of derision. She looked toward Dante, who stood under the strobe light talking to Bruce, who nodded, gestured, shrugged his boulder-sized shoulders, and then turned back to his job. Dante hurried back to Donna.
“There's good news,” Dante shouted over the music. “Hunter was here about half an hour ago. Bruce said he mentioned something about Samee and The Commons.” Dante grabbed Donna's hand.
Donna climbed on the bike behind Dante all by herself and barely had time to strap on the helmet before he started the motorcycle and pulled out of the alley. They weaved through busy streets and this time, Donna's eyes stayed open. The wind whipped Dante's ponytail against Donna's cheek. He ran red lights, drove above the speed limit and arrived at The Commons in no time. He stopped the bike, hopped off, and took off running at a pace Donna couldn't match. She scrambled to follow in the dark, stumbled over a rose bush and sliced open her left cheek. Dante backtracked to pull her out. She wiped the blood from her face and could've sworn Dante's gaze lingered on it. He shook his head, took her hand and pulled her deep into a dark tree grove.
“Dante,” she said breathlessly. “Please, slow down.” Dante stopped in his tracks so fast that Donna bumped against him. He stared at the darkness and she tried to push in front to get a glimpse of what he was sensing, but he held her back.
“Stay behind me,” he warned. “I'm not sure which one's out there. They're brothers, after all.” Then a twig snapped ahead of them and Dante hissed, which seemed out-of-character for the generally refined way Dante presented himself earlier.
“What are you doing here?” A voice came from the thick darkness.
“You're okay!” Donna wanted to rush to Hunter’s arms but Dante stopped her again.
Why is he keeping me from Hunter?
But then she saw the steely glare in Hunter's eyes reflecting in the moonlight.
“Why did you bring her here?” he growled. “Are you trying to get her killed? Is this your way of exacting revenge upon me even after all these years?” Donna peered around Dante to see both vampires glaring at each other - two mighty kingdoms preparing for war.
“I no longer harbor resentment for your choosing as you did,” Dante sounded reasonable. “You know that.”
“What I know is that I asked you to keep her safe in her home but instead, she's here.” Hunter's tone wasn't quite so reasonable.
“She's here, but she's with me, so she's safe.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Hunter's eyes were black holes in the universe. “Do you think I'm incapable of protecting her?”
“First of all,” Donna began in a choking voice, “‘she’ has a name. And second, I appreciate you trying to protect me Hunter, but -”
“This is between Dante and me,” Hunter snapped. “So just...shut up please.”
Donna gasped. “Excuse me?”
Dante spoke, the wind chime in the tempest. “Stephen called. He assured Donna you were in danger. I suspected trickery on his part, but when it comes to him, one can never be sure.”
Donna's throat tightened. “Shut up” singed itself to her like a brand. Hunter's next remark burned the rest of her.
“Sometimes I just wish Stephen would've just killed me instead of Turning me.”
“Oh, I see,” Donna voice was eerily calm. “You would've preferred to trade your life, such as it is, in order to not endure the disappointment of me all these years.”
“I didn't mean it like that,” Hunter's nostrils flared and his neck muscles flexed. “I just meant...I don't know what I meant, Donna. I'm not good with words.”
“You're not good with me, either.” Donna turned away, half blinded by a sudden storm of tears. A commotion went on behind her. She ignored it and ran. In fact, she ran all five blocks back to the house and by the time she got there, her lungs threatened to explode from a combination of exhaustion and anger, and her bare feet stung from slapping against the hard ground.
She'd not quite unpacked everything from the move back to her parents’ house, so some belongings were still shoved in the suitcases on her closet floor. Stuff like her favorite frying pan, salad tongs and the star-spangled pot holders that didn't match Mom's kitchen décor. Donna tossed in three pairs of shoes, her favorite fleece sweater, two pairs of jeans and the pink Capris Mo hated. Donna grabbed the phone charger, laptop and her favorite DVDs from the collection on the TV stand. She tore apart the bathroom and tossed in her toothbrush, hair products and a toilet paper roll. All in all, Donna filled two suitcases and then she forced the zipper shut on each one. She stared at both bags.
She felt terrible leaving without knowing what had happened to Samee. She also felt terrible leaving without telling Mo her plans, but she wasn't even sure what they were. Maybe she'd go to the Bahamas and enjoy a few final moments of sunshine until her savings ran out or Stephen got her, whichever came first.
A motorcycle pulled in the driveway and shut down.
Damn it, what’s Dante doing here? Probably coming to talk “sense” into me. Well, he can just forget it. For the first time since laying eyes on Hunter, I’m thinking clearly.
No more vampires, Eternal Partners, psychotic big brothers, cold-hearted hit men, or nightmares. Donna tossed the first suitcase out the bedroom doorway without looking. It smacked him right in the crotch as he tried to enter the room.
“Ow. My nads didn't appreciate that.”
“I don't care what your nads think. Where's Dante?”
“Trent and my supplier are taking him to look for Samee.”
“Why do you have his bike?”
“I asked him if I could take it.” Hunter looked at the floor and spoke in a low voice. “I want you to come home with me on the back of it.”
“I have a car. If I wanted to go with you, which I don't, I'd just take that.”
“I'm trying to make a romantic gesture, Donna. I thought we could ride off into the sunset together.” Hunter's face darkened just enough for her to detect a blush. She hadn't ever considered it until now; she’d just assumed vampires weren't capable of that.
“Don't be ridiculous,” she said. “You'd turn to dust.” She picked up the second suitcase. “Get out of my way.” He didn't move. “What part of 'Get out of my way' is lost on you? Please hurry up and find it because I want you out of my way.” Hunter sighed and cleared the doorway. Regret punched Donna in the gut, but she shut down the pain and lunged past Hunter without even looking him in the eyes. She grabbed the suitcase that had hit him in the crotch and headed toward the stairs, but she was teary-eyed and missed the first step. Her suitcases tumbled down the stairs and she followed. Hunter rushed ahead and caught her before she broke any limbs or crashed against the ceramic foyer.
“Thank
s,” Donna muttered and then wiggled away from him. She tromped down the remaining steps to retrieve her suitcases.
“Donna,” Hunter sounded tired. “I'm sorry. I don't know what to do to fix things.”
“Good,” she scowled. “Now you know how I feel.”
“You're wrong, sweetheart. I don't know how you feel. I'm staying out of your head, like you asked me to.”
Donna grunted and picked up both suitcases. “I keep thinking if I pinch myself hard enough, I'll wake up from this nightmare. Stephen's just the icing on the cake, you know. There’s a shit-splatter of other stuff that’s wrecking my life - moving back home, my parents splitting up, Samee missing, and now I’m preg -” she sucked in her breath at that last one.
“Donna,” Hunter took one cautious step closer. “Dante told me you won't reincarnate if Stephen kills you again.” He thundered down the remaining stairs and took Donna in his arms before she even knew it had happened.
“Look at me, please.”
She stood stiffly in his arms and refused.
“He also told me about the baby,” Hunter said softly. “This is no longer just about you and me, sweetheart. You may not want to face me now and honestly, I don't blame you. Do you think I don't know how intolerably bitchy I can be?” Hunter's eyes bored in to her. “I want to hear it from you. Is it true?”
“Yes. You're intolerably bitchy.”
Hunter snickered. “I mean, is it true that we're going to be parents?” He raised Donna's chin, making her look at him. His eyes were a mirror of hers – a million emotions frantically swimming, each trying not to drown. She wanted to tell him that Dante was wrong, that she was no more pregnant than he was.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “We're going to be parents.”
Hunter looked away, which made Donna's tummy tie in knots because she couldn't see his expression.
Is he angry? Disgusted? Does he blame me?
He turned back and placed his hand on her abdomen, his fingers traveling across it. He murmured something Donna couldn't hear, but whatever it was, made something inside her belly twitch.
She gasped. “What was that?”
Hunter smiled. “It was the baby and I saying hello to each other.”
Donna wanted to retain the powerful feelings that were ready to propel her out the front door and away from Hunter forever, but with each touch, with each sensation, their baby pulled her back. She and Hunter locked gazes, and just like that, the anger was gone. In its place, a couple of long, lost souls who had found each other in the larger meaning.
“Do you realize how happy this makes me?” His words brightened the room like a rainbow after a fierce storm. Hunter looped his fingers around Donna's. “I want you to accept my apology. Please, for all three of us. I say thoughtless things sometimes.”
Yes, he did say thoughtless things, but he also did amazing things, like healing her after Stephen's attack, making sure she was always safe, and giving her the ring that dazzled with color and richness.
I can’t imagine my life without Hunter and I don’t want to.
She hugged him. He embraced her and the scent of spice enveloped her like a warm blanket. It felt good to be in his arms - like puzzle pieces finding each other in a box.
All we need now are the rest of the pieces to gather together.
“What about Samee?” Donna whispered.
Hunter shook his head miserably. “It's like she's disappeared into thin air. The good news is Dante senses she's scared but otherwise unhurt. Stephen's biding his time, waiting for the moment when he'll strike - like a rattlesnake under a rock. He'll wait patiently now because he's holding something dear to me. He'll wait until he gets what he wants.”
Donna's skin grew cold, even under Hunter's touch. “I'm what he wants.”
Hunter didn't say a word. He just took Donna's suitcase and headed upstairs. “Come on. Let's put away your stuff.”
“Don't you want to help look for Samee?”
“I don't want to leave you.” As selfish as it seemed, Donna was glad he said that. She didn't want him to leave her, either. She followed Hunter upstairs, smiling a little, despite everything that was still wrong. Hunter set down the suitcases and Donna reached down to open the biggest one.
“It’s all come back to me now,” she said. “What happened the other night. Stephen said some things that have been bugging me.”
“What kind of things?” Hunter's jaw tightened.
“He...said he and I were lovers. Were we? I mean, before you and I got together?” She searched his eyes but they quickly glazed over. His nostrils flared, his breathing labored. Oxygen ripped from the corners of Donna's room, gathering like a tornado, spinning and swirling around Hunter. It circled faster with each revolution, collecting energy with every turn. Those romance novels Donna hadn't touched since 10th grade flew from the shelves and her ceiling light bulb splintered.
“Hunter!” she screamed. “Stop it.” But his eyes grew redder, his skin paled and his fangs lengthened. He became the vampire he truly was, the one she'd met that first night they were together. Only this time, he was angry. “Why are you changing?”
His arms and legs twitched and then they trembled. He swung wide and Donna covered her head. There was a terrible racket. Wood snapped, plastic cracked and glass shattered. She looked up. Hunter had punched the wall and blasted a hole right through it with such force that it had shattered the nearby window. The DVD and bookshelf collapsed. Every horror film Mo had ever given Donna scattered across the floor. The porcelain treasure box from Grandma on Donna's fifth birthday crashed and shattered. The TV went next. Hunter threw it just as Donna backed toward the furthest corner, which was exactly the direction he'd thrown the TV. She screamed, ducked, and waited for the explosion against her head. But it didn't happen. Instead, Hunter zoomed in front of her and grabbed the TV. He intercepted it just in time. Then, just as quickly as the transformation had happened, it reversed itself. Hunter's fangs retreated. The hatred in his eyes faded. It was a lot like the first time, but this time Donna didn't try to run. She stood there and took it all in.
Hunter's shoulders sunk. He took a long, deep breath.
“I'm so sorry,” he looked at Donna from under his lowered brow. “I never wanted you to see me lose control like that. It won't happen again.”
Donna crossed her arms. “Yes, it probably will happen again. I just don't know if I want to be around when it does.” She gestured toward the hole in the wall. “How will I explain that to my parents?” Hunter looked down, backed away, set the TV on the floor and sat on the bed. He mumbled something she couldn't hear. “What did you say?”
He mumbled it a little louder. “I'm ashamed.”
“What do you mean?” Donna's fingernails were in her mouth and she chewed them fiercely.
“Isn't it obvious?” He made a sweeping gesture around her room. “I'm ashamed of what I am.”
“It might be more productive if you'd be ashamed of what you did.”
Hunter looked her in the eyes with his own defeated ones. “I try to be human enough for you Donna, but I never am. You always end up thinking I'm a monster.”
“I don't think you're a monster. You just sometimes behave like one.” She moved from the corner, negotiating through broken glass and sat next to him on the bed. He turned away.
“Mortals hate vampires,” he said. “Even vampires hate vampires. We're parasites.”
“What about Dante? He's not a parasite.”
Hunter snorted. “Dante may be a healer by nature, but he's a vampire by design.” Then he added, “By my design.”
“Either way,” Donna spoke clearly despite feeling like her heart was going to explode, “I'm not subjecting myself or my child to your tearing things up every time you get angry at Stephen. Stephen is something that needs to be faced and stopped, not railed against on innocent furniture. Whatever Stephen is, he doesn't deserve this kind of outburst from you.??
?
Hunter bolted up. “You don't realize what you're saying.”
“One look around this room explains it pretty well,” she gestured.
Hunter's eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to know what Stephen is capable of? Even when he was mortal, Stephen was cruel. As a child, he mutilated our livestock until Father stopped him. He used to stab dogs and smile at their pain. He would capture birds, break their wings. He-”
“What did he do to me, Hunter?” She couldn't stand hearing any more about Stephen's cruelty toward innocent animals.
“The same thing he always does. He kills you.” Hunter avoided Donna's glare.
“There's more you're not telling me, Hunter. And unless you do, I'm going to insist you leave and never come back until you've learned something about anger management.”
Hunter glowered. “Stephen kills you with maddeningly slow precision and intense amounts of torture. He drains your blood and it takes hours for you to pass away. During those hours, he...” Hunter's hands shook, “does things to you.”
“Like what?”
“He beats you. He tortures you, repeatedly. He breaks you down mentally, physically and emotionally. By the time I get to you, you're too gone to bring back. You're bruised, broken, your body defiled and I hold you while you breathe your last.” Hunter's hands shook, sweat beaded on his forehead. “That's Stephen's calling card to me. He destroys you and I get to know how much you suffered. He tells you that if only I wouldn't keep coming to find you, you wouldn't need to suffer.”
“Yeah,” Donna's voice quivered. “He did tell me that.”
Hunter shook his head and looked at the floor. “I've tried to avoid getting close to you. I've tried protecting you from a distance, but Stephen goads me. He threatens to hurt you anyhow.”
“Is that why you tried to avoid me when we met at The Dark Side?”
Hunter nodded slowly. “Samee had warned me that you were planning to go there.” His voice was sad when he spoke her name. “She knew The Dark Side was where Stephen had been biding his time and alarm bells went off when she heard you mention it. So we staged an intervention. I wanted to do it without me getting too close. I had hoped to get Dante and Trent to step in instead of me, but you were drawn toward the back which is where I was hiding. And as it turned out, so was Stephen.”
“You tried to avoid me.”
“For your own good, sweetheart. This is a centuries-old battle between Stephen and me and you're caught in the middle. Whoever gets to you first should win, but even though I always get there first, he always wins.”
“He won't win this time,” Donna said.
I need to believe it for the baby's sake.
She kissed Hunter. “My stomach's queasy. I'm going to grab a soda. Do you want anything?” Hunter shook his head. She hurried downstairs and grabbed a coke. Silently, she thanked Samee for the full fridge and begged for her to be okay.
Now, how to deal with the mess in my room…
Donna walked back upstairs and her jaw dropped in surprise when she entered the bedroom. The broken glass was scooped up, the shelves restacked, the clutter off the floor and the curtain was drawn shut to hide the shattered window.
“Trent will stop by later to fix the other damages,” Hunter explained a bit wistfully. “He's the builder, not me. I'm sorry.” He paused. “Somebody’s here.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
Hunter parted the curtains and poked his nose through the broken pane. Then Donna heard what had captured his attention. A car door slammed shut. Then, giggling.
“Who owns a Jaguar?” Hunter asked.
“Shit. My mother's home, and about three days early.” Donna turned off the light and peeked through the window. Mom's young boyfriend lifted suitcases from the trunk while Mom clicked in high heels back and forth from the trunk to the front door, carrying one bag at a time. Then Mom and Brad stood directly in the car's headlight glow, tangling together in a long kiss.
“That's disgusting,” Donna sneered. “She and Dad aren't even divorced.” Yet.
A few minutes later, the front door opened and bags were shuffled in amongst the sounds of hushed voices, light giggles and one rather unforgettable moan. The front door shut. Brad slithered to his fancy car and backed out from the driveway and Mom hustled up the stairs. Donna expected her to trot right past, but she knocked on Donna's door. Donna eyed the hole in the wall and looked nervously at Hunter, who swallowed hard. She slipped from the room and let the door shut behind her. Mom stood in the hallway, smelling like coconut lotion and expensive cigars. Her intense smile pierced the dimly lit hall.
“My goodness, Donna. You certainly answered the door quickly. Were you sleeping with your cheek pressed against it?”
“Why are you home so early?”
“Well,” she chuckled and it sounded like a hen cackling. “That's a fine hello.” She squinted, which accentuated her crow's feet, then held open her arms for a hug. A bracelet that sparkled with rubies clanked on Mom’s tanned arms. “I came home early to surprise you for your birthday.” She grinned. “Surprise!”
“Thanks,” Donna picked at her thumbnail.
She snorted. “You don't seem happy to see me.”
“I don't feel well.”
Mom examined Donna closely – like a medical examiner observing a carcass before disemboweling it. “You do look a bit exhausted,” she admitted.
Exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Donna tried to smile. “On the other hand, you look great.” In fact at that moment, Caroline McCormick was exactly like a perfect red rose in its fullest moments, just before the petals start to drop.
She grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you for the compliment, dearest child. Now tell me, why is there a motorcycle in the driveway?”
“Um,” Donna had forgotten all about that. “It...belongs to Mo.”
Mom stared, without blinking, like Ms. Schmill. “That huge hunk of metal belongs to tiny little Mo?”
“Uh-huh.” Donna nodded feverishly.
“Why is it here? Is Mo spending the night while you're not feeling well?”
Donna thought quickly. “She let me borrow it. I'm learning to ride.”
Mom surveyed her from head to feet, a butcher considering a slab of meat to be filleted. “Yes, well. Thank you for explaining. It all makes sense now. Good night.” Mom turned and sauntered down the hall. Her suitcases were still by the front door.
“Mom, do you want your bags?”
She slammed her bedroom door shut in response. Donna crept back to her room and shut the door behind her. “She knows I'm lying.”
Hunter pulled her away from the door. “We just have to remain calm until Trent fixes the wall.”
“I hope he can do it quietly.” Donna rubbed her temples and wandered around the bedroom, chewing on her nails. A minute later, the door crashed open and Mom stood there with her arms folded, glaring at Hunter.
“You must be the real owner of that death trap in my driveway.”
“Actually, ma'am, I'm not.”
She glared at him.
Donna stood between her mother and her Eternal Partner. “Mom, you really should knock first.”
Mom snorted. “This is my house and you're not paying rent in it.”
Donna crossed her arms. “You said I could live here.”
“I didn't say you could use my home as a brothel.” She coldly eyed Hunter.
“Mom, this is Hunter -”
“I don't care if he's Zeus. He has no permission to be here.”
“- And he's the father of your grandchild-to-be.”
Mom opened her mouth, probably to accuse Donna of reproductive irresponsibility, but that's when she noticed the hole in the wall. “What in the hell is that?”
“He'll fix it,” Donna said. That didn't convince Caroline McCormick, whose faced reddened and eyes glazed.
“I'll have you arrested for destruct
ion of property,” she glared at Hunter. “In the meantime, get out of my house.”
Hunter started to leave.
“Don’t go without me,” Donna implored him.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He took Donna's hand and pulled her toward the doorway.
“My stuff,” Donna said. “I need my suitcases.”
“We'll buy you new stuff,” Hunter said.
“My phone...”
Hunter reached back to her bed and picked it up. Mom shouted after them. “So help me, Donna Anne, if you leave this house now, you'll never be invited back in.” Donna turned to face her mother, who glowered. Caroline's glower was nothing compared with Stephen's, though. So Donna shrugged and glared back at her mother.
“I don't want to come back.”
Mom’s jaw clenched. “You’ll regret saying that, Donna.”
“No, Mom. What I regret is letting you hold Sam’s death over my head for the past nine years. You were in charge of him that day, but you got an important phone call and told me to watch him while you turned away to chat with your important client. It’s not my fault he died.”
Tears welled in Mom’s eyes. “I never said it was -”
“It’s not your fault either, Mom. Sometimes bad stuff happens to good people. That’s all. I love you and I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be your scapegoat anymore.” Donna hurried downstairs and was out the front door and on the back of Dante's motorcycle even before Hunter could get on and start the engine. He grinned.
“I love you so much,” he said.
“I love you, too.”
Hunter handed Donna a helmet which, thanks to Dante, she could put on all by herself. Hunter straddled the bike, a Greek god on his crotch rocket. The engine roared to life.
“Hold on tight,” he said.
“I intend to.”
chapter eighteen