Amelia sucked in a breath. “Are …” the words caught in her throat, and she had to clear it a few times before she could make her voice work. “Are they all …” she tried again, looking out over the front yard at fifty, maybe more, cloaked figures, and it looked like every single one of them had a bow in hand.
“Yeah,” Josh said. He put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. He grimaced. “We are kind of like bees.”
“What?” Amelia asked. She shook her head, trying to make sense out of that, but she couldn’t.
Josh ran his fingers through his hair and then scrubbed at his face roughly. “Well, um…” he hesitated, and cast his eyes to the ground, refusing to meet her confused gaze.
“What he’s trying to say,” Cole said from behind Amelia, “Is that, just like bees, we have attack pheromones. When one of us dies, well …” he paused, mulling over his thoughts for a second, and then he sneered. “I warned you at the fire. I told that bloodsucker he’d regret killing my team.”
White-hot rage flooded over Amelia, and her blood boiled as she spun around to face him. “Stop calling him that! His name is Mitchell. Not bloodsucker, or fanger, or monster, it’s Mitchell!”
“Fine!” Cole yelled back, like a child throwing a tantrum. He huffed and pouted for a second before continuing. “When we are injured or we die, we release a pheromone which signals the others to attack. And with you here, the call was a bit stronger because …”
Realization dawned on her, and waves of hot and cold rushed through Amelia’s veins. She snuck back to the window, parted the curtains an inch, stole a quick peek, and she breathed, “I’m the queen bee.”
“Oh good,” Madame Crystal said with a clap of her hands. Amelia jumped, dropped the curtains, and faced her. “They’re here.” She stood in the entryway of the foyer with an excited smile, and the look in her eyes, Amelia thought, was as if Madame Crystal believed that the hunters, which were littering the front lawn, were the answer to all their problems. Amelia wasn’t so sure.
“You knew they were coming?” Amelia blurted, stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The psychic grinned and put her hands on her hips. “I did tell you. When you were in the van, remember? I said more were coming. But that doesn’t matter,” she said with a wave of a hand, and her grin turned into a wide smile. “Now we have a plan.”
“We do?” Megan asked, poking her head around Madame Crystal as she made her way into the foyer.
“Of course,” the psychic said, as if it should be obvious. “We can outnumber them now.”
“Seriously?” Tyler rolled his eyes. He went to the window and drew the curtains wide open, surveying the yard. “That’s just as bad as Millie’s plan.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a hard stare. “You think going to the fair is a bad plan?”
Tyler barely glanced at her, before he said crisply, “Don’t give me that look. You know Mitchell was usually the one with the plans. Yours kind of suck. Like when you locked yourself in your bedroom or the time you thought it was smart to text me to pick you up. Your plans usually fail epically.”
“It was my idea to join the hunters and lure them out,” she countered, raising her voice defensively. She knew her ideas weren’t always stellar, but really, they weren’t that bad.
“That’s what I mean,” he said with exasperation. “They fail epically.”
A loud thumping at the door stopped Amelia from snapping something she was sure would have been counterproductive at Tyler. Cole smirked, and before anyone could stop him, he had pulled the door open. “Hey, Dad,” he said, stepping back and gesturing for a man to come inside.
The man didn’t acknowledge Cole, which Amelia thought was odd, at least until he locked his shiny gray eyes on hers. He pushed the hood of his cloak back, took two large steps towards her, and dropped to his knee and bowed his head. “We came as soon as we could,” he said, his voice deep and rough, and then he took Amelia’s hand in his large one and kissed it. “Please forgive us for taking so long to arrive.”
Amelia snatched her hand away, and she felt her cheeks burn bright. She shot a look at Tyler and Megan, pleading for help, but they wore identical clueless expressions. The man hadn’t moved from his place at her feet, and she inched back half a step.
“Arthur,” Josh growled. “Jeez, you’re making her uncomfortable. Get up.”
****
There were fifty-nine vampire hunters (including Josh and Cole). It took twenty-five excruciatingly long minutes to fill them in on the little accident—that’s what Josh was calling it—and to ensure that they all knew they were not to kill a single vampire, no matter what. To Amelia’s surprise, they didn’t question her. It was as if they couldn’t. She saw the contempt on their faces, the hatred that burned in their eyes, but not a single one of the hunters voiced their objections.
“I don’t understand why they’re listening to me,” Amelia whispered to Madame Crystal as she led the way around the house to the carport. The sky was clear, denim blue, without a single cloud. A soft breeze rustled the budding leaves, and with each breath, Amelia breathed in the sweet scents of spring.
“They don’t have a choice,” Madame Crystal replied simply, in a way that made Amelia feel like she should have already known the answer.
“If they don’t have a choice, then how the hell were Josh and Cole able to try and kill her?” Tyler asked, as he veered left and headed for Eric’s shiny green Corvette.
Megan raced up to him and snatched the keys out of his hand. “You are so not driving my car,” she said, shoving the keys in her pocket.
“Not your car,” Tyler said, and he jutted out his bottom lip in a pout.
Megan narrowed her eyes at him. “Actually, yeah, it is, you know, marital property and all that.”
Tyler looked as if he was about to say something horribly stupid, but before he could, Josh jumped in, answering his question, “Because before she only asked us to stop; she didn’t command us.” He cut Amelia an apologetic look. “But, I was pretty sure they were going to kill you and just wait for you to come back when they found out you were siding with the vamps.”
“We would have,” Arthur chimed in. “And her cousin, but thanks to my useless son, she knows who she is, and with that knowledge, she not asking anymore, she’s commanding.” He was rigid; his voice, his posture, everything about him was coiled, tight as a spool of sewing thread.
Amelia didn’t let that bother her. “Standing right here,” she said, and cut Arthur and Josh a look that she hoped told them that she was not impressed, and when they both rolled their eyes, she stomped over to her Jeep and jumped in.
The ten-minute drive to the park only took five. Josh had insisted on riding along with Amelia and Megan, and Tyler drove Madame Crystal, Cole, and Arthur in the Hummer. The other hunters had followed along in their own vehicles. No matter how much Amelia pleaded with them, they all insisted on coming along, just to ensure she was safe, and well, she couldn’t deny them that, especially after one of them pointed out that without her there to stop them, they could use the free time to hunt the enemy. She wasn’t entirely sure if they could in fact do that, but she wasn’t about to test the theory. Soul or not, they were her family, and she wasn’t about to risk their lives.
When they pulled into the lot at the park, there were three cruisers waiting, and the set up for the fair was well underway. Small booths stretched along the side of the parking lot, and the top of the Ferris wheel poked above the thick tree line. Amelia’s gut twisted with nerves as she tried to come up with a better plan than just showing up.
Once she parked, she wordlessly jumped out of the car and instantly heard the dings and chimes of the games, and music, and laughter, drifting through the air.
“Amelia,” Officer McLean called, and waved a beckoning hand at her. The gesture died off quickly, and his eyes grew wide with something that looked a lot like guilt mixed with horror. She looked over her
shoulder and spotted the horde of hunters strolling casually into the parking lot from the street. McLean shuddered, or shook might have been more like it. Amelia thought he looked like a wet dog shaking water from his fur.
“McLean, shouldn’t you be vacating the premises?” Josh demanded.
Amelia was about to snap at Josh and ask him who had made him the boss when she noticed McLean’s complexion had turned ghostly. “I … I um … I …” he stammered.
Josh growled and balled his fists as barely controlled rage emanated from him. “I told you …” Josh started, but then he glanced at Amelia and clamped his lips shut.
What the hell? Amelia thought, shifting her gaze between the two of them. She clenched her teeth, put her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes at Josh. “What did you tell him?”
Josh relaxed slightly and offered her an unconvincing smile. He opened his mouth to answer, Amelia assumed, when a deep male voice yelled, “Run!” It blasted through the speakers and rang with a frenzied panic. “They’re going to kill everyone.”
CHAPTER 14
Screams erupted from the park. A high-pitched cackle blasted from the speakers followed by a deep chuckle.
Amelia ran. Raw adrenaline hit her hard and fast, and the familiar warmth of magic swirled around her in a whirlwind of energy. Smacking footsteps rang out behind her, and Josh and Cole fell in beside her as she reached the opening in the trees that led to the park.
“What’s the plan?” Josh yelled over the chaotic screams and panic. People were pushing past them, full tilt to the parking lot.
The plan… Amelia was drawing a blank. She burst into the clearing, slowing her pace slightly, and scanned the crowd. With a quick tally, she came out with two dozen or so humans, and she didn’t know whether to be glad or completely disappointed that not a single local was there. At least the locals would have been easier to contain …
Gleeful laughter continued to belt out over the speakers, drawing her attention to Erin and Lucy dancing around the stage in circles. Her blood ran cold. Tristan stood behind them, watching people scramble for safety, with a toothy grin.
“Spread out. Round up the humans and get them out.” Amelia shouted. “And don’t kill …”
“Oh, look.” Angelle’s syrupy voice stopped Amelia dead in her tracks. “It’s Amelia coming to save the day.”
Amelia’s insides shuddered as she looked her friend over. Angelle watched her with a cold and calculating intensity that was just…wrong. Her ruby red fingernails, which matched her blazing eyes perfectly, were wrapped around a man’s bicep. Amelia took a quick glanced at him, hoping it was a local, and her stomach twisted. She had never seen before. Angelle’s skintight jeans had brownish-red splotches, and her blood red halter top was filthy with what Amelia told herself was just dirt.
“Angelle, let him go,” Amelia said, eyeing her with caution. She was grateful that her voice didn’t give away the tremors that were seizing her stomach. “This isn’t you. You’re not a murderer.”
Angelle threw her head back and laughed, and in that second, she looked so much like Fiona that Amelia’s nerve faltered. Angelle didn’t miss it. She watched with predator-like eyes as Amelia scampered back a step.
“Angelle, please,” Amelia said, and she cursed herself for sounding so scared and small. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Angelle released the man, shoving him away, and stalked towards Amelia. “Oh, that’s so sweet. But you know …” Her eyes blazed brighter, and she flashed her fangs. She brought a tentative finger to her lips, drumming it lightly, as she paused for thought. “I will hurt you.”
“I think we should leave her for Mitch,” Lola said, stepping beside Angelle, her blond pixie cut hair was wild, standing on end. She smirked and nudged Angelle playfully in the ribs. “A treat for when we break him out.”
Amelia felt the color drain from her face, and she tried to shake it off. They’re playing with you, she told herself. She heard Tristan’s laugh, and something dawned on her. If Tristan was here then … “Where is he?” she demanded.
“I kind of feel sorry for her,” Angelle said, ignoring her question. “It’s like she actually believed that we cared about her.”
“Where. Is. He?” Amelia asked again, enunciating every word in a short and clipped tone. Her heart was jumping in her throat and her palms began to sweat. And at that moment, she didn’t know what scared her more, the possibility that Mitchell could already be dead, or the idea that he could here right now, watching, without her even knowing it.
“Not important, Amelia,” Josh said, and he moved a little closer, pressing against her side.
She turned to Josh and was about to order him to help the others, when a deep velvety voice said, “I’m right here, love.”
“Mitchell?” she said, turning towards the sound of his voice. When she laid her eyes on him, her body ached. Sexiest man alive, she thought, taking in his messy hair and noticing the soft curls that he always tried to hide with gel. His sky blue eyes and chiseled frame looked even better than she remembered, and she longed to run her fingers along his muscled chest and rippling abs. She licked her lips, and he extended his hand to her.
Amelia felt her legs move. She couldn’t stop them, and she would have been lying if she had said she wanted to stop them from closing the distance between herself and Mitchell. She heard him call her name, Amelia, but his lips did not move. The soft velvet of his voice filled her thoughts, and her heart fluttered erratically. The bond. It’s back. It’s fixed. Amelia just knew it, and she took another step.
Josh stepped in front of her, and his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him. His eyes were wide, panic marred his face, and for a moment, Amelia stopped walking. She titled her head from side to side, trying to read his lips, and she pulled at her earlobe, as if to loosen the clog.
Come to me, Amelia. Mitchell’s voice was loud and clear in her mind, and just like that, she stepped around Josh and began to move again. Mitchell’s voice was like a song that spoke to her heart, and enveloped her in warmth. She looked at him; his cloudy white eyes, like creamy milk, took her breath away.
Creamy milk? She knew that seemed wrong but … She didn’t even like milk, well unless it was chocolate. And then she saw his lips—full and seriously kissable—twitch upwards into a devilishly, sexy smile, and right then, Amelia was pretty sure her heart stopped beating.
A strong hand planted itself in the center of her chest. She pushed against it and swiped at it, but it wouldn’t move. She growled in frustration, her eyes locked on Mitchell, and without thought, she let loose an electric charge. White-blue electricity rushed along her skin, and jagged lines of lightning shot out. And then the hand was gone, and she was moving again. And the only thing she saw was Mitchell.
Amelia placed her hand in his, and he pulled her tightly against his lithe chest. He smelled good. The tangy spice surrounded her, and her skin tingled. “Do you trust me?” he whispered, his warm breath puffing against her ear.
“Yes,” she breathed. She trusted him with her life.
“And you love me?” he questioned, and his voice grew deeper—eager. He searched her face with confused eyes, and his bottom lip quivered slightly.
“Always,” she answered.
Mitchell arched a brow, and his sweet smile vanished. “Why?” He seemed so confused, lost, and alone.
Amelia placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly, and brushed away his soft, wavy hair out of his eyes. “Because you are mine, and I am yours.”
“So I own you?”
“What?” Own me? That sounded wrong and cold and dangerous. Warning bells were ringing in her brain. Something was wrong. She knew that. She could feel it, but being in his arms … it just felt so right, and she felt herself relax further into his embrace.
“You said that you are mine,” he stated with a matter-of-fact tone.
“I am,” she agreed, because in that moment, she knew she always would be. She was his, ful
ly and completely, forever.
He brushed her long curls from her neck, and lazily ran his fingers along her jaw to her ear and over her collarbone. She shuddered with pleasure. Her skin felt as if it was on fire, sparks igniting beneath his fingertips. She closed her eyes; her knees grew weak.
“What have you done to my mark?” Mitchell’s voice boomed. Amelia’s eyes flew open. A pinprick of red flared in the center of his eyes. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath until the air hit her burning lungs. Confusion, love, anger, and something else that Amelia couldn’t place passed across his face, and then his fangs snapped down like two sharp daggers. He tightened his arm around her waist, and glared furiously at her. “You say you are mine, but yet you have removed my name?” he seethed.
“I … I … I am yyyyours,” she stammered, suddenly all too aware that she had no idea how she had ended up in his arms. The nearby screams and pandemonium hit her hard and fast, like steel drums ringing in her ears.
He lowered his head, and his nostrils flared. “Who have you let touch you?” he demanded. When she didn’t answer, he yelled, “Who!”
“Let her go, fanger,” Josh spat.
Mitchell laughed. He locked eyes with Amelia and said, “Do not struggle. You will stay right here with me.” And then he spun Amelia around, pulling her back against his chest. “Stay out of this, hunter,” he snarled at Josh. “She’s mine. She said so herself.”
Amelia watched in horror as Josh notched an arrow on the bowstring and raised the bow, drawing the arrow, and aiming it at Mitchell. She couldn’t stop herself from wishing she wasn’t so short, her head only coming to the base of Mitchell’s neck. If she was just a few inches taller … “Josh, don’t hurt him,” she shrieked.
Mitchell’s muscles tightened against her back, and he pressed his lips against her ear. His heavy intakes of breath sounded like she was caught in a wind tunnel. “It’s him,” he snarled. “You let my enemy touch you. I can smell him in your hair, on your clothes.” He pressed his nose against her neck, running it down and along her shoulder. “His scent is on your skin.”