The Hunter's Affection (Bloodwite Book 3) Read online

  “Doesn’t matter.” Lawrence put the whiskey bottle back.

  Torr agreed. “This is only the second Cheld you’ve ever sensed,” he added, taking a sip of the soft, rich drink in his hands. “Can you trust your own senses? Are you certain the Cheld is gone?”

  Everyone looked at him. Because he’d spoken cordially to Alessandra? He’d never disliked her, per se. And Torr did know how to behave himself.

  When it was necessary.

  “I . . . I’m not sure, to be honest.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll all travel in pairs,” Lawrence said. “You should always be with one of us,” he said to Toni, his eyes full of entreaty. “Promise me.” As the only human in the room, she would be the least protected.

  “What about Charlotte?”

  A candle burning at the end of the bar, one with a wood wick that made a crackling noise as it burned, was the only sound in the room. Perhaps he should have circled around to what he knew to be a delicate topic, but her safety was more important than his brother’s wrath.

  And Lawrence would be angry, for the simple fact that he knew of Torr’s aversion to relationships. Which meant he and Charlotte could be nothing more than a temporary fling. As such, he really had no business going out with her tonight. If he were a stronger man, he wouldn’t, but he could not shake the feel of her against him. He instantly hardened every time he thought of slipping into her—

  His fantasies were interrupted by the unlikely sound of his enemy agreeing with him.

  “If there is a Cheld nearby,” Kenton said, “their purpose is entirely unclear. I would have to agree. We cannot be too safe. Every human attached to us must be protected.”

  Torr tried to determine if Kenton were patronizing him.

  “In that case, what about Birdie and Uncle Jim?” Toni asked.

  Torr continued to watch Kenton, the two eyeing each other as warily as hunter and prey.

  “We can’t be too safe. Invite them to stay with us for the weekend.” Lawrence cleared his throat, forcing Torr to break eye contact with Kenton.

  “I’d rather you weren’t alone either.” Alessandra turning toward Kenton, who did not look pleased by his fiancée’s statement.

  “If there really is a member of the Sect here in Stone Haven, they would be coming for you. Not me.” She smiled. “And I can protect you.”

  Kenton’s brows raised. “Can you now?”

  Though he’d said it in a teasing tone, Alessandra bit back. “Yes. I can. Lawrence,” she said, “tell him.”

  “I don’t need Lawrence to tell me you’re one of the strongest Cheld, despite having only trained for a few months. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Still, if it is the Sect, they spend their lives in training, passing down knowledge from generation to generation. You—”

  “Will not be coddled.”

  Torr had never seen Kenton and Alessandra angry with each other. But they were most definitely on opposite sides of this issue.

  He grinned, unable to look past the opportunity to annoy Kenton.

  “You’ve trained with my brother,” Torr said to Alessandra, placing his drink on the bar. “But not with me. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  She didn’t hesitate.

  Without waiting for him to make the first move, Alessandra jumped up off her barstool and charged toward him too quickly for him to react. Laria cleared out of the way at once, her eyes shining—was that amusement?—as she stood back in the empty space that awaited the shipment of their new furniture from Lancaster.

  Grabbing both of his arms simultaneously, Alessandra wrenched them behind his back. She’d become quite strong in such a short time.

  “Well done,” he congratulated her. He held still, waiting for her muscles to relax. When they did, momentarily, he slipped out from her grasp and moved away.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “You’re strong,” she commented.

  “As are you.”

  This time it was he who went on the offensive, pinning her arms to her sides to expose a neck he could have drained had he wanted. Or so he thought . . .

  She kneed him in the balls so hard, Torr immediately went down. But not alone. Sweeping his hands behind her knees, he took Alessandra to the ground with him, buffering her fall with both of his hands.

  He heard Kenton’s growl but didn’t relent.

  It was one thing to train with your fiancé. Another, a good friend.

  Torr was neither. And they needed Alessandra to be strong. This was for everyone’s benefit.

  Back and forth they went, each gaining, and losing, the upper hand several times. Toni and Laria clapped and cheered, and though he could hear Lawrence’s muffled laughter, Kenton remained silent. He could practically hear the man grinding his teeth.

  Neither of them were out of breath, though Alessandra was beginning to break a sweat. They could continue this dance indefinitely, if not for his date, so he called for a truce.

  And that was when she laid him out on his back.

  For the first time since the fight had started, Kenton burst into laughter. Torr should have been annoyed by the arrogant Englishman. Instead, he stood and held out a hand to his very capable opponent.

  “Well done, my lady.”

  “And my wife.”

  They all turned at that, staring at Kenton. They all knew he and Alessandra were at a stalemate—Alessandra would only marry him if he’d agree to change her, and he wouldn’t change her unless he had evidence she’d survive.

  “No more waiting,” Kenton said. “Any woman who can take down the great Torr Derrickson is one I want for a wife.”

  “But we agreed—”

  “And what if we don’t find the evidence we need?”

  “Then you will turn me anyway.”

  Everyone in the room watched as if they were spectators and Kenton and Alessandra the sport.

  “We shall see.”

  Despite the continued stalemate, Alessandra ran to him and threw her hands around his neck.

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of this one, but yes, I agree. Why wait?”

  The embrace turned more intimate as Toni practically squealed. “We’re planning a wedding!” She held up her glass. “To the already engaged but soon-to-be married Mr. and Mrs. Kenton Morley.”

  The couple in question broke apart and held up their own glasses. It struck Torr that he was the only one without a glass in the air. As he looked around at the circle of smiling faces, he felt something in him soften. Hell. Who was he to put a damper on the mood? He grabbed his nearly finished whiskey from the bar and hoisted it up.

  “Cheers,” Toni said.

  And though he did not raise his drink directly at Kenton, he did angle it in his general direction. “‘The great Torr Derrickson.’ Thank you for saying so, my lord.”

  Kenton acknowledged the deferential use of his former title with a tight smile.

  But a smile nonetheless.

  “Unfortunately,” Torr added, draining his drink, “my charge awaits.”

  It took everyone a moment to understand his meaning. When they did, they all began talking at once. Only Toni seemed to be pleased by the news. But Torr was already halfway to the door, heading toward the woman who did not yet know she’d be his close companion until they confirmed the unknown Cheld was no danger.

  Either way, he planned to take his responsibility seriously.

  Torr smiled at the possibilities that awaited.

  Chapter 15

  “He’s on his way.” Alessandra’s voice echoed through her bathroom on speakerphone.

  Charlotte peered at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother stared back at her.

  Everyone said they looked like twins, especially now that her mother had a few less wrinkles thanks to the injectables she received every few months. One time the doctor had botched her mother’s treatment and left her with unnaturally swollen lips. Charlotte had almost asked her who she was trying so hard to impress, but wisdom had pre
vailed.

  You’re acting like her. You’ve spent an obscene amount of time getting ready tonight.

  “You sure about this?”

  Charlotte had forgotten Alessandra was there for a second.

  “Sorry. Was just thinking—”

  “About guarding your heart, I hope.”

  Alessandra knew she was a serial commitment dater. The episode with Torr the other day in her apartment was unlike anything she’d done in the past. There’d never been any talk of him staying in Stone Haven long term, so she had no illusions this could possibly be anything but a fling. Which was probably why her friends had been so shocked when she’d told them about her plans for the night.

  “Exactly,” she said, wiping off her lipstick. Too neutral. Tonight she was feeling bold and needed a shade to match. “No heart involved. Just pure, unadulterated—”

  “Lust. I know.” Alessandra laughed.

  “Or maybe something a bit more than lust,” she admitted.

  “Oh no! You big liar,” Alessandra shot back through her speaker. “This is exactly what I was worried about!”

  “No,” she cut her off, finishing with the new lipstick. “It’s nothing like that. Just . . . I think there’s more to him than he lets on.”

  In fact, she knew it. He was smug, uber confident, and ridiculously good-looking, yes, but he was also complex and . . . dare she say sweet?

  “That may be,” Alessandra said as Charlotte carried the phone through the living room. “Just remember that he’s had years, and God knows how many women, to perfect that game he’s about to play with you.”

  That stung.

  “You mean—”

  “He’s the love ’em and leave ’em type. And if you’re okay with that, then by all means, go for it! But just make sure—”

  A knock landed on the door. “He’s here,” she whispered, making her way toward the front of the apartment. “Gotta go.”

  “Good luck.”

  Charlotte slipped the phone into her back pocket, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  How could an oatmeal cowl sweater look so good, and manly, on a guy? Though he wore jeans, the sweater dressed him up a bit. But as always, his clothing had nothing to do with the reason he took her breath away. It was his expression, so supremely comfortable, that made her knees weak.

  Lord have mercy.

  She was screwed.

  “Shall we try this again?”

  Her heart nearly jumped from her chest. Did he mean—

  “A real date.” Torr held out his hand. Realizing he didn’t intend to come inside, she managed to slow her breathing and went to grab her purse from the counter. After she locked the door behind her, she took his outstretched hand, and they walked down the stairs together, fingers intertwined.

  Those same fingers had been down her pants. Oh dear.

  “You never did say where we’re headed.”

  Stepping onto the street, he squeezed her hand.

  “I figured we did this all wrong,” he said with a sidelong glance. “A first date in—”

  She laughed. “That was hardly a date.”

  “Regardless.”

  They walked up Main Street, tourists packing every last inch of it. Fall was one of two high seasons in Stone Haven. If she worried about being seen with the visiting playboy of the Derrickson family, it was a bit too late. Already, she’d passed two colleagues, both of whom had watched them with interest.

  When he led her down a side street, she realized where they were headed.

  “Amendment 18?”

  “Does that work for you?”

  “Of course.”

  She actually loved Stone Haven’s sole speakeasy. A whispered password got them in, through the regular-looking bar downstairs and up to the town’s best-kept secret for locals. Especially on a weekend.

  Before buying the bank, Lawrence had actually worked there as a bartender.

  “Jazz night,” she said, hearing the music as they climbed the stairs.

  “Apparently.”

  When they did go inside, the lazy tunes of a live saxophone coupled with a red glow from lamps strategically placed around the room instantly relaxed her. She hadn’t realized how on edge she’d been until now, as Torr ushered her to a table that was, oddly, completely empty. At this time of night, the two-person tables and couches were almost always taken.

  When they were seated and personally served—something unusual given that there wasn’t a full waitstaff—she realized why.

  “You arranged this?”

  His wink was her answer.

  “Are you always so slick?”

  “Always.”

  “Hmmm.” Charlotte didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  “When I said we should start from scratch, I meant it,” he said, ordering a whiskey and some appetizers for the table.

  “I’ll have the drink special,” she said, “whatever it is.”

  Torr seemed surprised.

  “Feeling adventurous?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, more coyly than she’d intended.

  Torr leaned back in his seat as the band popped on some background music for their break.

  “So tell me, Princess of Stone Haven, how exactly is a girl who wears slacks and a blazer to a Noir Nights event the same one who learns about my kind without missing a beat?”

  “I am no one’s princess,” she said. “And you know very well that I didn’t intend to end up there, with you, that night. If you’ll remember—”

  “Oh,” he said, leaning forward. “I remember quite well. Every detail, in fact.”

  Heat crept from her chest to her cheeks. Every single word that came from his mouth reminded her of one of the intimate positions they’d found themselves in together. His quick wit, his sensual voice, they slayed her. So did his complete, focused attention. He never looked away from her, around the room, or at his phone. She felt he really saw her in a way few did—and found herself wanting to show him the same level of attention.

  “So I suppose you also remember the ride home?”

  Torr nodded. “Tell me more. And if you think, for a moment, to be embarrassed about the fact that your father was arrested, remember that I can horrify you ten times over with tales of my own past. And not one committed by my family either. I’ve more marks against my own soul without considering those of others.”

  Against that lead-in, her own tale seemed quite tame.

  “We lost everything when my father and his business partner were caught embezzling millions from their own company. At first, I’m embarrassed to admit, I mourned the loss of pretty cars and dresses. But later, when my father was sentenced and my parents’ marriage fell apart, I learned about loss. And not the kind that saw me making my own breakfast. The kind that makes you wish for a new family, a new life. One I started here in Stone Haven after going to college to be a teacher.”

  And although she’d become accustomed to keeping her past private, Charlotte found herself telling him everything. About her mother’s apparent need for wealth having remarried at an alarmingly quick rate.

  “I thought my purpose was finally clear,” she admitted. “But now I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  It was difficult to explain. “Being department chair. Having a respectable job.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not quite the same as protecting an entire bloodline against a threat so strong they can be lethal to”—she lowered her voice—“immortals.”

  “Purpose,” Torr said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ve found nothing yet more powerful to live for.”

  He wasn’t usually so serious, but Charlotte liked this side of him. She also liked the side that winked at her a moment later when he, as usual, took something she said out of context. He could turn pretty much any of her words into something about sex.

  They were on their third round, and the nerves she’d felt earlier in the night had completely dissipated. Torr might be a
centuries-old vampire, but he was also a pretty fun guy.

  As if you didn’t know that from Stage West. Or your apartment.

  She found herself thinking, again, about the first impression he’d made on her. How she’d thought him brash and arrogant and little more. “What’s with the smart-ass, devil-may-care charade?” she blurted out.

  “Charade?”

  “Yeah. And if you think by doing that lip thing I’m going to forget the question—”

  “Lip thing?” he asked, eyes wide, as if he were genuinely innocent.

  Oh, what a tease. The band started to play again, and Torr pretended he couldn’t answer her over the music. Right. They listened for a moment, soaking in the soothing, sensual strains of jazz.

  She was about to explain what she’d meant when he did it again. But this was no quick lick of the lips. Slower and more methodical than usual—a confirmation that the cad knew precisely what he was doing.

  Heart racing, Charlotte would see his boldness and raise it one.

  “Pay the bill,” she said.

  Torr hesitated.

  “The bill,” she said more firmly, getting to her feet.

  Her meaning could not have been clearer. And so he did.

  Tossing a hundred-dollar bill on the table, he followed her out of the bar. Charlotte could sense him behind her as she opened the door that led to the stairs, but she didn’t stop. In fact, she put a little burst of speed on, just for fun. First, the stairwell. Then, the street. Crisp October air filled her lungs as she laughed aloud at her own forwardness.

  Torr caught up with her a minute later, spinning her around and pressing her up against the back of the building they’d just left. His kiss seared her lips. Hot and all-consuming. She forgot everything, including the fact that they were in a somewhat public space. Only when boots clacked against the pavement did Charlotte pull away, quite a feat with her head pressed up against the brick wall. Wiggling out from under his grasp, she found herself running. Never before had she savored the thought of being chased.

  Laughing like a maniac, high on his kisses, she ran all the way to her apartment building. She assumed he was behind her for the two blocks, but he was nowhere to be seen when she spun around.