Aden (Vampires in America) (24 page)

Salvador had clearly been waiting for just that reaction. He attacked again, a pinpoint shaft of power this time. It burrowed through Aden’s shield, digging into his arm, burning through flesh and into bone.

It was an agonizing pain. But Aden had learned at a very tender age to set aside the worst pain imaginable, to keep working regardless of blood or torment. He flexed the muscles of his wounded arm, choosing his own pain, using the agony to fuel his rage, channeling that rage into a whirlwind of razor-edge flails, hammering and slashing at Salvador’s shields, slipping through to slash at his face, to batter his body.

Blood ran freely from every inch of Salvador’s exposed skin, from the rips and tears in his clothing. But still he fought, using Aden’s attack against him, taking advantage of his focused distraction to strike at his legs, narrow beams of power cutting through his flesh like tiny lasers.

Aden nearly staggered, but would not grant himself that weakness. With a snarl of pure fury, he doubled his attack, shifting from the pounding force of a flail to the knife-edge slice of the thinnest of whips, the kind of whip that could fillet a man as neatly as a fish, could slice the flesh from his bones so quickly he wouldn’t even know until he’d fallen that he was dead.

Salvador’s answering howl carried more rage than pain, his head thrown back, his clothes almost gone, no longer able to hold form. Bloody strips of flesh hung from every inch of his body, white bone showing through, his face barely more than a skull. His teeth were bared, his eyes wild and gleaming a ruby-tinged gold as he pinned Aden with a furious stare and launched one final salvo.

And Aden saw it. The weakness in the Mexican’s shields. For the space of a long breath, the constantly shifting plates of Salvador’s shield froze completely as he drew upon every ounce of his remaining strength, draining the shield’s power.

Aden pounced. Channeling his own power into a single whippet of energy, he slashed out, wrapping the thin beam around the Mexican’s neck, letting the whip curl around and around like a snake, and then giving a single sharp tug.

Ramiro Salvador’s eyes met Aden’s in an instant of shocked disbelief, and in that moment, something passed between them, an understanding, a recognition of mutual respect. And then his head separated from his body, and he died.

Aden fell to his knees, his head thrown back as that hidden aspect of his power came roaring to the fore. It drank in the energy of Salvador’s death, as if by dying he released his power for Aden to draw upon. Distantly, Aden heard the screams of Salvador’s minions as they followed their Sire into death, too newly made to survive the trauma of his ending, and Aden drank in their deaths, too. He didn’t like this gift of his Vampire nature, but he used it. It was a morbid and dark power, but it was also a tremendous secret weapon. And he was a warrior. A warrior used whatever weapons were available to him. Aden’s ability to draw strength from the death of other vampires made it possible for him to recharge in the middle of a fight. And it meant that when the battle was over, he was not so weakened by blood loss that he was vulnerable.

Aden became aware of Bastien at his side. He turned and saw the worry shadowing his lieutenant’s face. He reached out mentally to Bastien and the others and felt their loyalty tinged with genuine fear for his safety, because they
 . . .
loved him. His breath caught in his throat. Had anyone ever loved him before? Not like this.

He gripped Bastien’s arm in thanks and pushed back, stopping his vampire children from offering their own power to aid his healing. He didn’t need it, and they weren’t home free from this challenge yet. What if Silas had learned of the challenge and was waiting for the victor to emerge, thinking he would be weakened and vulnerable in the aftermath?

“We must leave, my lord,” Bastien told him. “Freddy has gone for the truck.”

Aden nodded and stood, feeling an ache in his right leg, which he was fairly certain had been broken a moment ago, the bone sliced through by Salvador’s last attack.

“The Mexican was a worthy opponent,” he said.

“Not worthy enough,” Bastien replied loyally.

Aden’s lip curled in a half smile, but he privately wondered what the situation was in Mexico, that a powerful vampire like Ramiro Salvador had come this far north in search of territory. But then, wasn’t that precisely the situation Raphael had described as happening in Europe? Powerful younger vampires forced to extreme measures to find territories to rule?

It was something to consider, but Aden set the thought aside. That was the battle for another day,
after
he was Lord of the Midwest. For tonight, he had to get himself and his vampires home safely. He briefly considered paying a visit to Sidonie. He knew where she lived, of course, and could easily bypass her doorman. And while the energy infusion from his unique ability was useful, there was nothing like blood, warm, fresh, and velvety. Like Sidonie’s.

Unfortunately, he was in no mood to deal with whatever had sent her off in a huff earlier.

“Make sure Hamilton knows I want a daylight tail on Sidonie tomorrow,” Aden said as they returned to their SUVs. “And tell Kage to take over the watch after sunset.”

Tomorrow would be soon enough to find out what bug was up her ass. He’d get his answers first.

And then he’d get his blood.

Sid studied Will as he stared after Jenny’s retreating back. He turned and caught her watching him.

“New girlfriend?” she teased, knowing full well it was more than that. She might not want to marry Will, but she’d known him all her life.

He smiled back at her, and Sid knew she was right. “Let’s talk,” he said.

“I think this one needs privacy,” Sid commented, slipping her hand through his arm. “The patio’s empty.”

The blast of cold air when they opened the French doors told them exactly why the patio was empty, but her parents—or their party planner—had set up heaters for the few hardy souls who were willing to brave the cold in order to grab a quick cigarette break. There was no one out here now, however, so Sid and Will had the patio to themselves.

“Is it serious?” she asked him, glad she’d worn a sweater over her dress. The heaters could only do so much.

“You could say that,” he said, looking out at the sloping yard. “We’re engaged.”

Sid drew back in quickly-concealed surprise, thankful that Will had been admiring her parents’ perfect landscaping instead of looking at her.

“But—”

“I know. I should have told you, but
 . . .
it’s not like you and I were really going to get married, Sid.” He looked at her then, his pretty brown eyes solemn and sincere.

She smiled to let him know it was okay. “Will,” she said soothingly, “I’m not upset. I’m just surprised that you didn’t say anything before this. How can you be engaged when I didn’t even know you were dating someone?”

“It happened kind of fast. We worked a case together a few months ago, one of those multiple plaintiff deals. Anyway, we just
 . . .
clicked. She loves me, Sid. It’s like
 . . .
I walk into the room, and her whole face lights up. Like I matter.”

Sid slapped his arm playfully. “Of course, you matter, you idiot. You always have. Do you love her?”

“More than I ever thought possible,” he said with a dreamy sigh that would have done a teenaged girl proud.

“Well, I’m happy for you. For you both. Do your parents know?”

“We’re telling them this weekend. Tomorrow actually, brunch at the club, both families at the same time.”

“Brave man.”

He laughed. “Nah, my parents will love her, plus they kind of know each other, since it turns out her parents are members, too. But, Sid,” he added, going serious. “I wanted to tell you first.”

She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “That’s sweet, thank you. But I’m not upset, so don’t worry. Will I be invited to the wedding?”

“Of course! Won’t be for a while yet. At least a year. Jenny wants the whole catastrophe, and I’m told these things take time to plan.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sid murmured. She didn’t tell him she’d heard it from her own mother at least once a year for the last several years, and always in reference to her own wedding
 . . .
to Will. “You should find Jenny now,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “She’ll be wondering what we’re doing out here.”

“Right. Thanks, Sid. I still love you, you know.”

“And I love you, just—”

“—not that way,” he chorused along with her, laughing. “Are you going back inside?”

“I think I’ll hang out here a bit longer. It’s kind of stuffy in there.”

“Not too long, though, okay? You’re not dressed for this weather.”

“Got it,” she said, fighting a grin. She watched as he opened the patio doors and was quickly lost in the crowd of partygoers, then watched a little longer. All those people, laughing and talking. There were even a few couples dancing now, including her parents. They were an attractive couple. Her mom pretty and trim, despite her three children, two of whom—Sid’s brothers—had been enormous babies. And then there was her dad. Tall, slender, and handsome in a classic all-American way, the reddish-gold hair he’d passed on to his only daughter now threaded with silver.

Sid knew that all children wanted to believe their parents were in love, but she was convinced that her parents really were. And that’s what she wanted. She didn’t want a marriage of convenience or dynasty. She wanted passion. She wanted
 . . .
Fuck. She wanted Aden.

Stupid, stupid Sidonie.

A sudden cheer drew her back inside as she saw her parents making their way to the front of the room where the DJ was set up. Her brothers were already there, and her dad was searching the room, looking for her. His face lit up in a smile when he found her, and Sid hurried to join them, knowing they’d hold everything waiting for her.

“A toast,” her older brother, Jamie, called out, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “To our dad on his—”