The Hunter's Affection (Bloodwite Book 3) Page 16

  “It won’t hurt but—”

  “I won’t remember. I know. Doesn’t matter. I’m ready.”

  She wasn’t sure what she expected, but his tongue certainly wasn’t it. As if preparing her for what was to come, it flicked against her skin—

  She flinched.

  There was no pain, only a sudden pressure against her inner thigh . . . Charlotte lifted her head and watched in fascination as Torr’s lips moved against her flesh.

  He moaned again. But it was different than before. More guttural, a baser sound that would have terrified her had she not trusted Torr completely.

  She closed her eyes and sighed.

  A moment later, Torr pulled away and her eyelids flew open as she watched him lick the glistening of her blood off his lips.

  With his tongue.

  Heaven help her.

  “You okay?”

  Charlotte dropped her hand back down to the pillow. She was more than okay.

  “You will turn me, Torr Derrickson,” she murmured, not bothering to watch for his reaction. It didn’t matter. He was going to do it. She was determined.

  “The hell I will,” she heard him say as she drifted off, too tired to argue. Too sated to do anything other than smile.

  * * *

  Torr watched her sleep for a time, soaking in her presence, her goodness, and eventually left the way he’d come.

  He needed time alone to think.

  Could he do it?

  He debated with himself the entire way to the Walsh house. Zach lived with his grandmother on the outskirts of town, just far enough to make it a long walk . . . for a human. He could have been there in an instant, of course, but he didn’t wish to risk running.

  How many vampires had been caught that way? Thinking they were alone, giving just enough cause for suspicion for locals to start asking uncomfortable questions.

  And once the Sect became involved—

  The pit in his stomach had nothing to do with Charlotte now. This one was for his brother. And Toni. And even Alessandra.

  Between Drake and Rowan knowing a Cheld lived here and Zach’s grandmother with enough knowledge to cause concern, it seemed unlikely Stone Haven would be safe for any of them in the long run. Toni thought to turn it into an open town. More likely they’d all have to leave.

  His sister’s perfume led him to the back of the house, one that took up nearly a quarter of the entire block. On the opposite side of town from the Hutton mansions, Annabel Walsh and her grandson lived in the second-most well-to-do area of Stone Haven.

  “What the hell?”

  Laria had such a way with words.

  “How did you even know where . . . oh, that’s right,” she said, moving over to make room for him between the bushes. “You’ve been here before.”

  Torr had been the first person to question Zach. “I think another chat may be long overdue.”

  “No way. Let him spill on his own.”

  “We’re wasting precious time.”

  “Torr. No.”

  Exactly one person on earth could use that tone with him. And it was the woman sitting next to him on the cold, damp grass as they listened to—

  “They’re sleeping.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “Don’t you think it’s safe to go home for the night?”

  “Until he starts questioning Grandma, I’m not going anywhere.”

  They were in for a long night apparently.

  “I figured you’d still be with Charlotte.”

  “I was.”

  Had his sister ever looked at him with pity before? He’d seen plenty of expressions on the face that so closely resembled their mother’s. But never this one.

  It felt . . . odd.

  He’d not even told her yet, but as his chest swelled with the memory of their mother, Torr recognized the emotion, even if it was one he had not given freely throughout the centuries.

  “I love that girl,” he admitted.

  “I know you do.”

  “More than anyone, save you and Lawrence. How it’s possible, so quickly—”

  “There are no rules to love, genius. That’s the point.”

  He leaned his head back against the house.

  Laria’s shoulders slumped. “You won’t do it.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Do you really think she won’t make it through? I mean, Torr, the incident with the handmaiden was almost seven hundred years ago. “I’ve said it so many times before but will remind you, it was not your fault. The turning, the murders, her death. We hardly knew what was happening to us ourselves.”

  “It’s not that. I mean, it is that, but—”

  “But you swore to never turn anyone again. I get it.”

  He suspected she didn’t. How could she understand what he did not? It wasn’t just the handmaiden. He’d witnessed so much death over the years. “I don’t understand why she can’t let it go—”

  “Ever think Charlotte is wondering the same thing about you?”

  “This is different. We’re talking about upending her life—”

  “Which she would be doing anyway, even if you didn’t turn her.”

  “And becoming a vampire, for Christ’s sake. This is not a temporary affliction.”

  Laria sighed loud enough to wake the entire household. “I know you, Torr. And when you get like this, nothing I say will matter.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So I’m not even gonna try to convince you.”

  “Good.”

  “Perfect.”

  Silence.

  Not the kind he would have wanted, but silence nonetheless.

  The sun eventually began to show its face. Torr was about to suggest they take shifts when they heard voices.

  Zach. And a woman, though not the grandmother.

  “A maid, I think,” Laria whispered next to him. “She’s asking Zach if he needs anything.”

  Though he strained to hear them, Laria did not seem to have any trouble. His sister had always possessed the best hearing of any of them.

  But it wasn’t something he heard that troubled him and made him shoot to his feet, Laria right on his heels. No, it was the sensation of an uncloaked Cheld, here in Stone Haven.

  They bolted from the bushes, the risk of being seen less than that of the unknown Cheld.

  “We shouldn’t run,” she said next to him.

  “No.” But they could walk fast. Very, very fast.

  “Who do you think it is?” Laria asked, but Torr didn’t take the time to answer. He did break into a run then, straining with the effort to hold himself back to a human pace.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “But there’s no doubt as to what they are.”

  Fuck it.

  He ran in earnest then. If his brother or friends were in danger, being outed wouldn’t matter anyway. Laria must have had the same idea, for she was only steps behind him. They avoided the main streets as they whizzed past buildings.

  The dual mansions came into view above them on the hill. Wasting no time, he pinpointed the presence to the Henry Hutton house. Kenton and Alessandra’s home.

  Chapter 22

  Charlotte glared at her untouched coffee and waited for Torr to arrive. He’d texted her saying they needed to talk. She’d already been on her way to The Witch’s Brew, so he’d offered to meet her here. Now she sat playing with her phone at a small table near the front window overlooking Main Street. Splashes of memory kept surfacing in her mind. A vision of Torr between her legs, his face unshaven, his eyes intense, peering up at her every so often. The pressure on her leg. Then nothing.

  Charlotte took a sip of coffee, not exactly the perfect remedy for her rapidly beating heart. Her phone buzzed, and she hastened to grab it, but it was only her mother.

  “There you are.”

  She hadn’t even seen Torr come in. But some of the other female customers certainly had. They eyed him with open interest, but both he and Charlotte ig
nored it.

  He sat opposite her, laying out both of his palms on the table. She took them without thinking, and as they closed around her hands, Charlotte knew something was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  “Garrett’s back.”

  Garrett was Alessandra’s younger brother. Another Cheld. After discovering the truth of their heritage, he’d arranged to finish his master’s degree remotely so he could hunt down information about their father.

  At least she wasn’t the last person to find out about all that was happening in their lives. Apparently, neither Alessandra nor Garrett had told their mother yet. Charlotte imagined a reckoning would be coming soon . . .

  “Did he find anything?”

  Torr squeezed her hands.

  “He did.”

  The door’s bell rang constantly, customers coming and going. Though they were removed from the crowd in their window seat, they couldn’t be too careful. It was probably not the best place to talk about private matters, but she’d had a hankering for a strong coffee.

  “He rolled into town early this morning, nearly giving Laria and me a heart attack. We were at the Walsh estate when we sensed him.”

  “But wasn’t he cloaked?”

  “Exactly the problem. Apparently, he lost the bracelet Laria made for him somewhere between getting out of the car and sitting down at Kenton and Alessandra’s kitchen table. We all immediately sensed him—”

  “But that means—”

  “Yep. Drake and Rowan will have sensed it too. They’ll likely know he’s Alessandra’s brother, but it’s an unfortunate reminder to them that she’s not the only Cheld in the vicinity.”

  “Do you think they’ll come?”

  Torr released her hands. Charlotte replaced the loss with her coffee, wrapping her fingers around the still-warm brew.

  “No idea. I mean, they already know Alessandra is here—”

  “But this is different. Even if they’re hesitant”—she lowered her voice—“to kill her . . .”

  “They might not have the same reticence about killing her brother.” He shook his head. “I could strangle him with my own hands.”

  “But this must have happened before? A piece of jewelry doesn’t seem like the most fail-safe way to cloak . . . them.”

  “It’s the only method we have. And yes, it happens from time to time. We’ve gone on some pretty wild goose chases because of it. But”—he shrugged—“it’s rarer than you’d think. Most understand the stakes.”

  It seemed so strange that a piece of jewelry embedded with the stems of a wild rose could mean the difference between life and death, but she supposed it was no more fantastical than living in a world where vampires existed.

  And sat directly across from her. His expression reminded her of . . .

  “You came to me last night.”

  “Yes. I did.”

  Charlotte tingled all over, most especially . . . there.

  “Do you remember it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Some of it. A very pleasurable memory actually.”

  Torr grinned. “But nothing after the bite?”

  Charlotte shook her head.

  Despite the cool fall air wafting in each time the door opened, the heat that crept from her cheeks down to her chest turned into a different kind of heat. One that accompanied rising anger. Because she knew that look . . .

  “You still refuse?” she asked, incredulous.

  He shook his head ever so slightly, but to her, it was as if he’d shouted, No!

  “Dammit, Torr—”

  “You have to understand—”

  “Oh, I do.” She’d asked. He’d answered. Again and again.

  There was nothing more to be said.

  Charlotte stood.

  “We need to talk about this—”

  “No.” She grabbed her purse. “We don’t. There’s nothing more to talk about.”

  She would not rely solely on him to keep her safe, and if he couldn’t understand that, after all that she’d been through . . .

  “Charlotte, please.”

  She would not be swayed by those pleading puppy dog eyes. On this, she had to stand strong.

  He wouldn’t turn her. And if Torr wasn’t ready for that level of commitment, she wasn’t prepared to give up her life for him. To follow him and allow herself to remain vulnerable and weak. To grow old and . . . no. She would not do it.

  “I’m sorry,” and she was.

  Charlotte practically ran from the coffee shop. After half a block, she turned.

  No Torr.

  What had she expected? That he would chase her down the street? Say that he’d changed his mind? Agree to turn her? Take her to all of the places he’d promised they’d visit together?

  Stay by her side for all of eternity?

  Yeah. Wasn’t going to happen.

  Charlotte kept running all the way back to her apartment, where she promptly did what any sane woman would do after walking away from the man she loved with all her heart.

  She went straight from the door to the freezer, despite the fact that it was not even ten in the morning. Her only regret? That it was a pint of chocolate ice cream and not a seven-layer chocolate cake.

  ’Cause she planned to eat the whole thing and not feel an ounce of regret.

  * * *

  “What happened?”

  Torr poured himself a shot of tequila behind his brother’s bar. Ignoring Laria’s question, he drank it. Then refilled it and drank another.

  “You hate tequila.”

  He glared at her and went to pour a third but was stopped by his tormentor, otherwise known as his sister. One week before opening, the bar was chaotic. Between the banging of the kegs being brought in by the distributor and a meeting, of sorts, his brother was conducting with the new staff in the corner, his arrival had attracted little notice. Except from her. She’d been all over him from the moment he walked in.

  “I said not now.”

  He tried to shake her hand off, but she was strong.

  Possibly the strongest woman in the world, in fact—the only surviving female vampire among the two original families.

  “Christ, Laria.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Torr.”

  “Then leave off.”

  “You broke up.”

  She did let his hand go then. But instead of pouring himself another shot, he sank down onto the stool normally occupied by his bartender brother.

  “What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ do you not understand?”

  “Fine,” she snapped, walking away, “you want to be a dick. Be a dick.”

  Toni cocked her head, and he could tell she’d caught Laria’s parting words. But she didn’t question him—instead, she simply looked at him.

  Torr finally cleared his throat, impatient with the staring contest.

  “I’ve always liked you,” she blurted.

  It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected her to say.

  “Pardon?”

  “I said I always liked you.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” he asked, curious.

  “You did everything in your power to act like what Laria was accusing you of being.”

  Like a dick. Right.

  “But I saw past that from the start.”

  Torr would love to argue with her, explain that he really was a dick and that her first inclination had been on target. But there was no denying he and Toni had always gotten along.

  “I’ve always liked you too,” he said honestly.

  She nodded to the tequila. “You sharing? I could use one.”

  “At this hour?”

  She gave him a wry look. Touché. He was man enough to admit it when he’d been a hypocrite. And so he poured two more shots.

  Handing her one of the glasses, he asked why she needed it so desperately.

  “Alessandra did an amazing job of getting some of the SHU students down here for jobs, but staffing is a
lready our biggest headache.”

  “Not very reliable, college students?”

  Toni sighed, looking over to where Lawrence sat in the middle of his trainees. The former chief of Clan Karyn was now commanding a group of snot-nosed teens. Funny, that.

  “Not so much.” She lifted the glass. “To surviving opening week and every other shitty thing life has in store for us.”

  The end of his relationship with Charlotte.

  She didn’t say anything, but something told him Toni knew the latest.

  Clinking glasses, they downed the tequila at the same time.

  Then, to his surprise, Toni turned to walk away. No lecture. No questions.

  Interesting.

  “Hey, Toni,” he stopped her.

  She turned. “What’s up?”

  He probably shouldn’t ask . . . it was a pretty personal question.

  “You said Lawrence was going to change you . . . so why hasn’t he done it yet?”

  Toni didn’t seem to take offense, but the corners of her lips turned down, making him regret the question.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “I’m scared.”

  He almost dropped the bottle of tequila, which he’d reached up to put away.

  “I know there’s no reason to be. And saying so certainly won’t help Charlotte’s cause. But there it is. Lawrence told me to take as much time as I need to adjust to the idea. Which is ironic since I want this as much, if not more so, than he does. But I’ve always been a bit of a chicken, and this is no small thing.”

  “Exactly what I tried to tell Charlotte.”

  He did put the bottle back then. Why the hell had he chosen tequila anyway?

  To punish yourself.

  “Well, all I can say is that I hope the two of you can work it out.” Toni’s smile reached her eyes. “You’re good for each other.”

  Before he could comment, he spotted Garrett Fiore out of the corner of his eye.

  “I forgot to tell Charlotte about Alessandra’s brother,” he realized. With the topic of their crumbling relationship on the forefront of his mind, he hadn’t even filled her in on the latest in the Fiore family saga.

  “I’ll talk to her later,” Toni said as Garrett walked up to them.

  Alessandra’s brother, brown haired and quite attractive, like his sister, had a rare ability, and one that made him plenty leery. Garrett could discern if someone was being truthful.