The Vampire Always Rises (Dark Ones Book 11)

  To my annoyance, the man named Han leaned forward, too, and took a couple of exploratory sniffs. I clutched the sheet to my chin again, and made mean eyes at them both.

  “Holy shit,” Han said, his eyes widening.

  “Language!” I snapped.

  He looked curious. “Pardon?”

  “Your language. There’s no reason to be so rude,” I said, and returned to my plan of escape. Maybe if I screamed and banged on the wall, the person next to me would complain, and the manager or someone would come up to see what was going on.

  “So you smell it, too?” the first man, whose name I gathered was Ciaran, asked his friend. “I wasn’t just imagining it? It’s pretty faint.”

  “You didn’t imagine it.” Han leaned forward and sniffed again. “It’s not terribly strong, but it’s there. Holy everlasting shit. Who’d have thought?”

  “Right, that’s it,” I said, standing up right there on the middle of the bed. With a dramatic flourish, I pointed to the door. “Out! I’ve had enough of you both! It’s bad enough that Giovanni, or that man who threw me into the car like I was a sack of groceries, or Carlo, or whoever hired you to kidnap me, has sent you in here to ogle my frontage and scatter profanities like they were wildflower seeds, but you needn’t be insulting, as well!”

  “I never insulted your breasts,” Han said, giving them a considering look. “On the contrary, they’re quite nice. Merrick is a lucky man.”

  “I don’t care what you—” I stopped, the words finally filtering through my brain. “Wait, what did you say?”

  “Merrick is a lucky man.” He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed again, and patted the sheets. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetness. We have a few things to talk about.”

  Slowly, I knelt down, wary of him. “Talk about what?” A horrible thought occurred to me. “You haven’t done anything to Merrick, have you? Because if you’ve hurt him—”

  I didn’t let the thought finish. I threw myself forward onto Han, knocking him down off the bed again, but this time I went with him, slamming my fist into his nose at the same time I tried to knee him in the groin. My knee missed the mark, but my fist hit true, and I had the pleasure of seeing blood on his face.

  “I swear by all that is holy if you’ve hurt him—” I got my hands into his hair with the intention of slamming his head on the floor when I was summarily yanked backward.

  “That will be quite enough,” Ciaran snapped, jerking me against his body when I lunged forward, intent on beating the truth out of Han. “Stop fighting me, woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You ass,” I yelled, snarling with frustration, and struggling to get free of Ciaran’s hold on my arms. “He hurt Merrick. No one does that and gets away with it!”

  “I haven’t hurt Merrick in decades, but that’s only because he refuses to box me since I broke his nose sometime in the 1930s.” Han sat up, touching a finger to one nostril that was leaking blood.

  “I remember that match,” Ciaran said. “Didn’t he break your collarbone and three fingers?”

  Han got slowly to his feet and waved away the idea with a bloody hand. “Possibly. I don’t remember the exact details. Luckily, our fiery little morsel of delight didn’t quite break my nose, although it hurts like hell.”

  “I am not your fiery morsel of delight.” I almost spat the words at Han. “I’m Merrick’s morsel, and so help me, if you have done anything to him—”

  “That’s three times she’s threatened you,” Ciaran told his friend.

  “Shut it.”

  “And knocked you down twice.”

  “I said shut it.”

  “And she got in a punch.” Ciaran released me and gave me a shove that had me stumbling backward to the bed, where I sat down suddenly. He gave me a little nod. “You ought to be proud of yourself, Red. It’s not many people who say they have bested a Horseman.”

  “I wasn’t bested,” Han said with a roll of his eyes. “You think I can’t defend myself from a woman?”

  “Hey,” I said, the anger that had blinded me with rage slowly fading. It was as if my brain had gone into a reboot mode, and now it was done and back to normal function. “Horseman? You’re one of the Four Horsemen?”

  “Two of them, actually.” Han nodded toward Ciaran, who was going through a leather satchel that held Merrick’s clothing. “The fourth is on his way, although what he’s going to make of a Beloved, I don’t know.”

  I sat up straight at that and stared openmouthed (I was doing a lot of that lately, but there was a lot to be stunned by during this past week). “You know I’m a Beloved?”

  “Yes, we know.” Ciaran looked at Han, who was now in the bathroom dabbing at his nose with a wet washcloth. “What comes as news is that you are Merrick’s.”

  “I’m not a possession,” I said stiffly, and got to my feet, snatching up a T-shirt to pull over the nightgown. “Merrick and I have an—” I stopped, the word “understanding” on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t say it, because there was no real understanding. Merrick refused to accept the role I had in his life.

  “You have a what?” Ciaran asked, pulling out his cell phone.

  “None of your business. If you’re Merrick’s friends, what are you doing creeping around his room, scaring the grass balls out of me?”

  “Grass balls?” Ciaran shook his head. “We were to meet him here. I take it he left you to tell us where he’s gone?”

  “Not exactly ...” I bit my lip, not sure how much to tell them. “I’m sorry, but do you have some sort of identification saying you are Merrick’s friend? A Four Horsemen card or something?”

  Han laughed when he emerged from the bathroom. “Now, there’s an idea for the future. We need identity cards, cousin.”

  “You’re cousins?” I asked, looking from the dark Han to the strawberry blond Ciaran. The latter had a faint English accent, but sounded mostly American to me. “Real cousins, not just ... er ... Horseman cousins?”

  “Yes, we are real cousins, although Ciaran is a good three hundred years older than me. Where is Merrick ... er ...”

  “Tempest,” I said, wondering what I should do. “Tempest Keye. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you where Merrick is. For one, I don’t know, exactly. And for another, I don’t know that you are who you—”

  “Just got a text from him,” Ciaran interrupted, tapping at his phone. “He says he’s a few hours north of here, and on his way back. He should be here before the sun is up.”

  “Tell him we approve of his Beloved,” Han said, smiling at me.

  I narrowed my eyes at him in return. He was just too smooth.

  Ciaran tapped rapidly at the phone, then gave a short bark of laughter.

  “What?” I said, suddenly worried. “What did he say?”

  “I don’t think you want to know,” he said drily, showing his phone to Han, who snickered.

  “I’m Merrick’s Beloved,” I said, jumping up and stomping over to him. “According to C. J. Dante’s books, that means he can’t lie to me, he can’t live without drinking my blood, and he basically has to do everything I say. Let me see what he said.”

  Han and Ciaran exchanged glances before the latter flipped his phone around so I could see the face.

  Don’t encourage her was Merrick’s reply.

  “Mothballs,” I swore, and, before Ciaran could stop me, snatched his phone and typed in, If you don’t start being nicer to me, I’ll leave you and then you’ll be alone and have to drink blood from strange cows and you’ll die alone in your pretty house with no one to care about you.

  Ciaran crossed his arms over his chest, and gave me a long-suffering look while I waited for Merrick’s response.

  It wasn’t long in coming, but it was in Italian.

  “What does this say?” I asked, showing the two men the phone.

  “It says to give me back my phone.” Ciaran suited action to word, and tucked it away in his pants pocket. “Do not touch my phone again without
my permission.”

  “Or what?” I said, feeling a bit obstreperous. I didn’t like Merrick’s friends much. They seemed far too arrogant and unyielding. I disliked both attributes in a man ... except for Merrick. He managed both well. “You can’t do anything to me. I’m a Beloved.”

  Ciaran gave me a slow smile. “Not yet you aren’t. Not fully. And until then ...” He stepped forward until he was a hairsbreadth away from me. “Until then, you’re entirely mortal.”

  “I will not be threatened,” I said with a little spike of fear in my belly.

  “I believe you just were,” Han pointed out.

  “No, I wasn’t.” I lifted my chin and stared down Ciaran. “Because to be threatened, I have to give you the power to frighten me. And I’m not frightened. I might look weak to you because I’m a woman, and most men think women are weak, but you’re wrong. I have taken self-defense classes. I know how to shoot a gun. And I am an almost Beloved, which means if you did something to me, Merrick would be pissed.” The last was a shot in the dark based on C. J. Dante’s books, but I was hoping it was true.

  “What makes you think I care about Merrick’s state of mind?” Ciaran leaned closer, his eyes all but firing lasers into my head, but I stood my ground, and after a few seconds of attempted intimidation, he turned away. “Bah. He is welcome to you and your self-defense classes. We have more important things to discuss.”

  I smiled to myself, not wanting to gloat over the fact that he’d backed down, but pleased with myself nonetheless. Everything was going to be just fine, I decided. All I had to do was hope Savian could find Ellis so that I could rescue him, help track down my cousin, and convince Merrick he couldn’t live without me.

  Easy-peasy, right?

  I sighed. My pep talk to myself did nothing but make me feel just how far from perfect my life really was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Merrick’s arrival wasn’t everything I had hoped it would be.

  I’m sorry if I’m disappointing, he said, giving the two men in my room a fist bump.

  You’re not—wait, did you just fist-bump your buddies?

  I greeted them, yes.

  “But you fist-bumped them,” I said, inadvertently interrupting Han when he was in the middle of asking Merrick about Carlo’s journey north. “Sorry, Han, didn’t mean to stop the conversation, but you fist-bumped. That’s modern! Even I know that.”

  “So?” Ciaran asked, a frown wrinkling his brow.

  “She believes what she reads in Christian’s books,” Merrick said in a mansplaining voice.

  “Ah.” Both of the other vamps nodded.

  I objected to that sort of thing immediately. “Look, I don’t like this boys’ club attitude where you guys are imagining that you’re superior to me, and you can talk down to me.”

  “You’re the one who has problems with us fist-bumping,” Ciaran retorted. “You clearly expect us to act like we’re living a hundred or more years ago.”

  “We wouldn’t last long if we were like the Dark Ones in Christian’s books,” Han said, agreeing with his friend.

  I glared at Merrick, who just raised an eyebrow.

  Well? I asked at last.

  Well what?

  Aren’t you going to jump on the Horseman bandwagon and tell me how wrong I am about you guys?

  No.

  I smiled at him, thinking to myself just how handsome he was. How any woman could look at him and not want to fling herself on him was beyond my understanding, but I hugged the knowledge that he was utterly pounce-worthy, and he was mine.

  I don’t have to tell you, because they just did.

  You rat! Just when I was thinking nice thoughts about you, too. I retract them all.

  Even the part about other women wanting to fling themselves on me?

  “OK, this eavesdropping thing is getting out of hand,” I told him, gathering my dignity to myself, and making a mental promise that I wasn’t going to think anything smutty about him without first making sure he couldn’t hear me.

  What a shame that would be. “Have you heard anything from Carlo?”

  “No.” I had been sitting on the edge of my bed while we waited for Merrick to arrive, but got to my feet and retrieved my phone from where I’d placed it next to my bag. “I texted him my new number, though, in case he wants to explain why he kidnapped me, and where he is now.”

  Merrick, who had been about to ask something of his friends, shot me a startled look. “You did what?”

  “Was there a reason I shouldn’t?” I pulled a small notebook from my suitcase. “I had his number written down, so I figured I’d just text him my new number, and tell him that my old phone was destroyed, and that we found the tracking thingie, and that I really didn’t appreciate it, but if he wanted to explain, I’d be willing to listen. It ended up taking about ten text messages to type it all out, but you said it was important to make sure I was available for contact, so I figured it was worth the effort.”

  The two other Horsemen slid him unreadable looks.

  Merrick’s lips tightened.

  “And then I texted Ellis the same thing, only without the accusations of kidnapping, and asked him to call me when he could and tell me where he was, but I haven’t heard anything back from him, either.” I bit my lower lip, concern about Ellis ruining the joy at seeing Merrick again. “I hope he’s OK. Merrick, we have to find him. I can’t just let him be kidnapped by my cousin without making sure he’s alive and well and unharmed.”

  “What’s this?” Han asked, his head snapping around to glare at me. “Cousin? Victor is your cousin?”

  “Possibly my cousin—” I started to explain, but Merrick interrupted by storming over to me, and inexplicably shoving me behind him so that I was staring at the back of his head.

  What the Heckle and Jeckle? I gave his shoulder a little shove. Why did you do that?

  Self-preservation. I don’t want to have to feed from cows and die alone in my pretty house. Stop shoving me. I don’t like it.

  And I don’t like being pushed behind you to stare at your big fat head, either!

  My head is not fat, and stop poking my shoulder. I know you are unhappy, but right now, I have something more important to deal with.

  I stopped my hand in midpunch to his shoulder, and asked, Like what?

  Keep the other Horsemen from sacrificing you.

  “Your Beloved is cousin to Victor?” Ciaran asked, his face furious. He stalked forward, which just made Merrick growl. “You knew and you didn’t tell us?”

  “Do you have any idea how much time and trouble this would have saved us?” Han asked, his voice a near shout. I had been about to move next to Merrick to show them I wasn’t afraid, but I’ve always had a dislike of men shouting. It went back to when I was a small child, and my father had just joined the cult, and I was constantly being “corrected.”

  “Stop shouting. You are upsetting Tempest,” Merrick said, his voice low, but with an edge of menace in it that caused me to glance at the back of his head with new respect.

  I’m not actually that upset, but thank you for thinking of me. Just out of curiosity, if one of them tried to attack me, would you fight him?

  Of course.

  Even though they’re your besties?

  I don’t have a friend, let alone a best friend. They are compatriots, nothing more.

  But you’d still fight them?

  Yes. I heard the exasperation even though he hadn’t spoken aloud.

  Would that be because I’m your Beloved?

  I don’t tolerate anyone attacking those who are weaker, he answered, sidestepping the question. It offends my sense of honor.

  “But you knew!” Han said, jabbing a finger in Merrick’s chest.

  “We aren’t certain that her cousin Carlo is Victor; we believe he might be one and the same, but until we know for a fact that he is, we’re treating him with extreme caution.”

  I laid my hand on his shoulder blade, and beamed warm thoughts
at him.

  What are you doing? he asked, startled.

  Being supportive. Showing you how much I appreciate your protective streak. Letting you know that I have your back.

  Han snapped something in a language I didn’t recognize, and stormed over to the door, then back, running a hand through his hair. I peeked around Merrick to watch them, decided that although both men looked furious, they weren’t going to attack.

  You have a very odd view of Dark Ones if you think we are steeped in chivalric manners and yet would attack an unarmed woman.

  Han yelled. I could tell he wanted to yell at me.

  I frequently find myself in just such a situation, he thought drily.

  Yeah, but that’s because we’re a couple. I want to shake you sometimes, too, I said, pinching his back.

  He reached back and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me against his side.

  “The solution is easy,” Han said, still pacing. Ciaran was tapping on his phone, no doubt tattling to the fourth Horseman. He came to a stop in front of us.

  “No,” Merrick said before Han could continue.

  “Tempest lures Victor into a rendezvous.”

  “No,” Merrick repeated, this time shaking his head.

  “That’s not a bad idea, if it would work,” Ciaran said, at last looking up from his phone. “But will Victor be drawn out for her?”

  “No!” Merrick said louder. “Christos, how many times do I need to say no? She is not bait. You are not using her to do anything, let alone risk her life.”

  “She’s your Beloved,” Han said, nodding toward me. “He’d have to really try hard if he wanted to kill her.”

  “That’s right,” Ciaran said, nodding. “He’d have to take off her head.”

  “Drawing and quartering would work, too,” Han said helpfully. “Or cremating her alive.”

  “And then there’s disemboweling—”

  “Hey!” I said, my amusement at watching Merrick in full protective mode fading. “Do we have to get specific? I have a blood aversion.”

  Both men burst into laughter. Merrick gave me an odd look. Is that true?

  I don’t lie unless it’s a matter of life and death, and even then, I don’t know if I could pull it off very well.