“I ripped Valerian’s heart out myself,” Eli said quietly.
“I helped Phin burn the rest of his body,” said Luc. “No way can it be him.”
“That leaves Victorian,” said Phin. He moved to stand next to me, folding his arms over his chest. “You have only the venom of the Arcoses. Like Papa said, there can be no other.”
I shook my head and looked first at Phin, then at Gilles. “I’ve seen his hand—it’s . . . rougher in texture, older skin, leathery. Definitely not Victorian’s young pale skin.”
Gilles glanced at Elise, then directly at Eli. “This concerns me, then. My only other guess is that another is projecting himself into you.” He regarded me closely. “You’ve obviously captured another’s attention.”
“Pissed them off is probably more accurate,” said Luc, and he looked at me. With a flip of his head, his shaggy dark blond hair swept out of his eyes. “Could’ve been any of the newlings,” he said. “Or possibly someone they’ve since turned.”
I closed my eyes, grasped the bridge of my nose, and swore in Romanian under my breath. “So what am I supposed to do? Watch innocent people die? Deal?” It’s what I’d done my whole damn life, right? Why stop now?
The room fell silent for all of five seconds; everyone stared at me. I figured the whole Dupré family had read my inner rant. At this point, I didn’t care anymore. Let’em read.
“We find him,” Eli said, that deadly edge back in his voice, his hand going protectively to the small of my back. I shivered. “And we kill him.”
Part Four
MINDLESS
“Everyone knows the phenomenon of trying to hold your breath underwater—how at first it’s all right and you can handle it, and then as it gets closer and closer to the time you must breathe, how urgent the need becomes, the lust and hunger to breathe. And then the panic sets in when you begin to think that you won’t be able to breathe—and finally, when you take in air and the anxiety subsides ... that’s what it’s like to be a vampire and need blood.”
—Francis Ford Coppola’s journal in
Bram Stoker’s Dracula:
The Film and the Legend
“I gotta tell ya—I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty tough Betty. A badass in my own right and proud of it. I’m not afraid of much, and if I am scared, I damn sure won’t announce it—to anyone. Unfortunately, my boyfriend and his entire family take privileges inside my private thoughts and know with certainty what scares me, what turns me on—and what pisses me off. All three of those emotions exist in heavy, intoxicating doses where this mystery bloodsucker is concerned, and the biggest fear I have is not that we won’t be able to stop him, but what it’s doing to Eli. He has become crazy-insane about what it’s doing to me. Heads are gonna roll—and I mean that literally.”
—Riley Poe
I thought I’d done a pretty fab job of holding it together after the terrors began. I mean, damn—I’d always fallen out in the throes of the terrors in front of someone, surrounded by, well, everyone. Yeah, they bothered me. Yeah, they were awful. And fuck-yeah, I wanted them to stop. The thing is I don’t sleep as much as I used to. Tendencies, you see. So that means my waking hours, when the terrors hit? There’re more of them—more opportunities for me to experience them. They do weird things to a mortal body, those terrors. I’m starting to feel different in a way I can’t explain. Just . . . not myself. And when I do sleep, I fall hard, as in coma-sleep. Eli is usually right there. Snooping in my brain.
He’s been on a wicked-dark edge lately that part of me totally digs, and yet part of me totally worries about. I could feel the tension in him; Eli isn’t known for his patience. I mean talk about a friggin’ stick of vampiric dynamite. So unlike his brothers who I know have the same frightening power; they just . . . contain it. Luc was so easygoing and laid-back, and Phin? I guess he was pretty much the same way. They had a good grip on their anger, their power. Eli? Ka-pow! All week at the shop, I felt his anger building. He’d done pretty well keeping it contained, but every once in a while, I’d see it; he’d extinguish it quickly. Today, though, he’d had enough. He’d parked his agitated ass right in the waiting area at Inksomnia and glared half the day while pretending to thumb through the tat design albums. Flip a page, glare. Flip a page, glare. Every freaking time I looked over at him. Glaring. At me. WTF? Nyx even noticed, but she thought we were just having a lover’s spat and left it alone. Today was Saturday, and she’d taken my last two clients so I could cut out early enough to get ready for the formal dinner at his parents’. I hurried upstairs. He followed. I felt his negative energy building, growing, festering, like some big, freakish reverse orgasm. The moment we stepped into the apartment, I shot a puzzled Seth a glance and stormed into my bedroom. I walked to the window and rounded on Eli. Ooh. I was fuming.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked angrily. “Jesus, Eli,” I said for lack of a better choice of words. “All week long, something’s been eating at you. What is up?”
Eli’s stare bore into me, his brows furrowed. “Nothing.”
I blinked. Did he really just say nothing? “You’re freaking kidding me, right? You know—never mind.” No way would I be able to force Eligius Dupré into telling me anything he didn’t want to tell me. Stubbornheaded vampire. I stepped toward him, nearly nose to nose. “Whatever it is that has you so pissed off, deal.” I poked his chest. “Chill out, come to grips with it, and don’t ever show your ass in my shop again. You got a problem with me, no matter what it is, talk to me. Privately. Don’t just . . . piss and pout about it all week. I can handle whatever, so don’t hold it in and get your balls in a twist stewin’ over it all day. Got it?” I gave him a final glare. “I freakin’ mean that, Eli.”
The expression on Eli’s face changed very little; but it did change. Subtly. The angry lines between his dark brows . . . softened, and the dark flash in his eyes dimmed—somewhat. Yet I knew he wouldn’t budge. Since we were due at his parents’ house, I narrowed my eyes, walked past him, blew it off and got ready. I didn’t like arguing, and I especially didn’t like arguing and then attending a family function where I’d have to pretend I didn’t want to strangle the hosts’ eldest son until his pale face turned blue. (Not that it’d matter—they all took liberties in my head, anyway. They’d probably figure it out soon enough.) So a bad mood now shaded my usually chipper persona. Thanks, Eli. I flung open my closet, dug through the dresses hanging there, and grabbed a long, slinky black halter made of rayon that clung deliciously to my skin. I threw it across the bed and stomped into the bathroom. Eli still stood in the same place I’d left him, staring at me as though I had a friggin’ horn growing out of my forehead. I wished I did. I’d have gorged him with it. As I turned on the hot water, I swore in hot, heated, emotional Romanian—several times. I thought I’d heard a laugh in the bedroom, but I wasn’t sure. I dried my hair and dressed. After choosing a kick-ass choker of black velvet with a green-beaded butterfly in the center made in the 1920’s, a pair of silver hoop earrings, a set of silver bangles, and six-inch-high black pumps, I walked out; Eli’s icy eyes were on me again, and I was pretty positive they remained on me the entire time after that.
“Whoa, Sis,” Seth said, giving me an appreciative look as I walked into the living room,. “You look sweet.”
I smiled at my brother. “Thanks.” I checked out his black suit and tie. “You look pretty delicious yourself.”
Seth glanced down at himself and grinned. “Right? Totally Casino Royale–ish, huh?”
“Yeah—and Josie will dig it for sure,” I said, raising my eyebrows. Seth’s cheeks turned pink, and I laughed. Then, I glanced at Eli. Yep, still glowering. I shook my head, made sure Chaz had food and water (Seth had taken him out), and we left in the Jeep. I’d thought the brisk drive through the squares with the top off would chill out the glowering Dupré. We pulled up to the light and sat, and I glanced over. Nope. Still pouting. We drove on to Monterey Square, and I parked in silence. Inside, Eli d
isappeared to get ready. I chatted awhile with Elise and Gilles. Elise, in a gorgeous long red strapless dress, silver strappy heels, and her hair coiffed in a smooth ponytail and secured with a gorgeous silver clasp, was completely delighted to have dinner guests. Gilles, in a dark suit, regarded me as he usually did, with depth and precision. The rest of the Duprés were pretty impressive. Luc and Phin, both wearing black Armani suits and ties, looked, as Seth had said, very Casino Royale–ish. Freaking hot was more like it. One with longer hair; the other with short-clipped hair—I was surprised girls weren’t hanging around the gates of the mansion, twenty-four seven.
“Hey, Riley,” Josie said, suddenly appearing behind me. I turned around and, to my surprise, found a stunning young woman in a tie-dyed, floor-length rayon gown with spaghetti straps, her long, loose waves pulled back in a clasp. The purple pumps made her a little taller. Seth stood next to her, his cheeks flushed.
Josie glanced at Seth. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said, then turned back to me. Her expression, always unreadable, fixed directly on me. “You like it?”
“Totally,” I answered with a nod. “Makes you look at least . . . eighteen.”
The smallest of smiles tipped Josie’s mouth. Her blue eyes regarded me. “You think so?”
“Absolutely,” I said, and I meant it. “Especially with the way you lined your eyes, sort of sweeping up at the outer corners.” I nodded. “Cool. Very Cleopatra-like. I’m gonna have to try that.”
Pride flashed Josie’s face. “Thanks, Riley.” She glanced at Seth. “Wanna go play Xbox until dinner?”
“Sure,” he said, then looked at me and wagged his dark brows. “Later, Sis.”
I watched my brother hurry off into the game room with a two-hundred-plus-year-old vampiress. Would I ever get used to it?
“You look sick, girl,” Luc said, suddenly at my side. “Is there anything you look sucky in?”
I thought a moment. “Square dancing dresses?”
Luc laughed. “I’m picturing it in my head. You still look pretty hot—ruffles and all.”
“Looks hot in what?” Phin said, walking up.
“Square dancing dresses,” Luc said, his eyes twinkling.
“Totally,” Phin agreed. I just shook my head.
As I said, Eli’s siblings were laid-back and easygoing.
“They don’t have someone to protect,” Eli’s voice said, suddenly against my ear. “I do.”
I met his gaze without words. He rounded on me and stood with his brothers. I promise you, a more striking group of guys did not exist. All three glanced at me. All three—even Eli—smugged up. It was ego city, with testosterone overflowing, even with overly confident, somewhat arrogant vampires.
It didn’t take Eli long, though, to resume his edgy attitude. All through dinner I could feel his tension. Even as I gawked at how absolutely freaking hot he was in a black Armani suit and tie, his unnamed irritation boiled inside him—freaking baby. Men, whether mortal or otherworldly, were just freaking babies. More than once I’d wanted to pick up a jumbo coconut shrimp by its fan tail and knock the holy hell out of Eli with it. Or grab a stalk of pickled asparagus and just . . . slap him with it. Every food item became artillery, and if I hadn’t been so pissed at him, I would have laughed at myself. What an idiot I could be. But damn, I couldn’t help it. I hated issues.
By the end of dinner, I’d actually thought Eli had chillaxed; he carried on a conversation in French with his father (in retrospect I should have suspected something was up with this, because, afterward, Gilles stared at me—a lot) and somewhat joked around with Luc and Phin. In between, though, he gave me deep, intense looks that left me breathless—and wanting to dot his eyes out at the same time. He’d grinned after that thought, and I’d really hoped he’d relax. I should have known better.
It was just after nine p.m. when we finished. Seth and Josie wanted to jump the buildings on Bay Street, and, since Luc and Phin agreed to go with them, I didn’t see a problem with it. Seth’s tendencies had grown, and I mean fast. He was nearly as quick on his feet as Luc. I’d even thought it might be a good negative energy release for myself and mentioned going, but Eli grasped me by the elbow and leaned close to my ear. “Not tonight,” he said. It was all he said before leading me in hurried silence, past the amused expressions of his parents, his siblings, and mine, to his private apartment upstairs. Had I not possessed a freakish amount of self-confidence, I might have been a little scared. I mean, seriously. Running through my body was scrumptious, mouthwatering although strigoi-tainted, grade-A crack-blood that was highly addictive to vampires, and a vampire, who’d been giving me fiery looks all night, was leading me upstairs to his totally private apartment with one helluva purpose. One would think I’d lost my friggin’ mind.
I was totally turned on.
We never made it to his actual apartment.
Once we were down his wing, the lights dimmed, shadows flickered against the aged brick walls, and Eli’s powerful presence and built-up tension all but suffocated me, closed in on me, wrapped around me like an invisible silky cloak. The farther we walked down the corridor, the darker it became, the more stifling the air, the subtle light diffusing to less than that of a candle. We were in another place, another time. At the end of the hall were the wide double doors leading into Eli’s apartment. The tension overwhelmed me. I jerked to a stop.
“Eli,” I said, the sound not as strong as I’d planned.
In a flash-second, his hands grasped me by the hips and pushed me hard against the wall; he followed me, leaning in close, crowding me. My breath caught in my throat on impact, and I stared into Eli’s icy, angry cerulean eyes. They searched mine with ferocity.
“What?” I demanded, trying to shove him. It was like pushing on a concrete wall.
“I,” he began, his voice way too steady, “don’t like sharing. What’s mine is mine alone. And I don’t like being helpless or out of control. Lately I’m both, and, as far as I can see, only two things need to happen: Victorian has to die, and whoever else has crawled inside you has to die.” His fingers dug into my hips, his body pressed against mine. Although his face was cast in gray distorted shadows, his eyes all but glowed as they searched mine; intense, radiant, and livid. “I fucking mean it.”
I looked at him, not so stunned. I’d learned a while back that Eli was more than possessive when it came to me. He was a hothead on top of it. “You know, anger management class might do you some good, or a little Xanax—”
Eli’s mouth covered mine, quickly silencing any further words of psychiatric or medical wisdom I might have offered. I didn’t care. My desire for him had been building all night, just as much as his tension had. I grasped his neck and threaded my fingers through his hair, and kissed him back—hard. Our tongues grazed, tangled, and the sensation ignited an intensity of raw need that all but lit the room on fire. I groaned, sucked his bottom lip, kissed him hard again, and shoved Eli around. His back hit the brick wall as hard as mine had. Anger and passion drove me.
We both struggled for control; it became an involuntary game.
Neither of us won.
Our mouths fused. My fingers clawed at Eli’s coat, pushed it off his shoulders, and it dropped to the floor. Blindly, I fumbled with his tie, and, finally, I loosened it enough to get it off his neck without strangling him. Our breathless moans and desperate kissing filled the otherwise silent corridor like a porn movie, and at the back of my barely reasoning brain I could hear it loudly. It turned me on, and I found myself seeking Eli’s bare skin, almost insane to touch him. I unfastened the buttons on his shirt, pulled the hem from his pants, and dropped it, only to find an undershirt.
“Shit,” I muttered in frustration, and I felt Eli’s smile against my mouth. He broke from our kiss long enough to snatch the thin ribbed shirt over his head and fling it somewhere; then he pulled me against him. As his mouth sought mine again, he dragged his lips slowly, erotically, using his tongue against my bottom lip, then against m
y teeth; it drugged me. He tasted sweet, like coconut, and that other indescribable, irresistible vampiric thing that was alluring and uniquely Eli. As my hands grazed his flawless skin, over the muscles etched into his chest and lower, into his abdomen, I shuddered at the sensation the friction caused within me. I straddled his leg, mine on either side, and leaned into him, inhaling, tasting, devouring, and he pulled me hard against his thigh. I moaned and ground into him. When his hands left my hips and grasped the length of my dress and slowly lifted it, my breath caught. Finally, we were skinto-skin. His hands raked over my bare thighs, cupped my ass, and pulled me hard against him. Our bodies fit perfectly, touching in all the right places, and my craving for him reached a level of desperation that shocked even me. My mouth moved to his throat, nipping and tasting as my hands pushed between us, grasping his belt and loosening it enough so my hand would fit down the front of his Armani slacks. The bare shaft of hard muscle I found, covered by nothing but velvety skin, made me groan against Eli’s neck. He let out a low chuckle.
I found myself suddenly flung around, my bare back now digging into the wall, scraping against the rough aged brick, allowing Eli complete control. My mind became total gravy as his hands brushed my skin, over my hips, until his fingers slipped beneath the silky triangle of material that was my thong. Wedging his leg between mine, he shoved my thighs apart and scraped the highly sensitive flesh that throbbed with need. I arched against Eli’s hand, my mind momentarily going blank. Fuck me now, dammit! my inner, primitive, craving-nasty-sex voice screamed without my permission. Maybe that sounds trashy, but good God—I couldn’t help it. Eli makes me mindless-crazy. If I’d had any inhibitions before, they would have been swiftly bludgeoned with Eli’s powerful, sensual touch. He was that potent. I moved my mouth to his ear. “Now,” I half begged, half threatened.