Hunted, The Complete Edition: A Full-length Steamy Vampire Romance (New England Nightwalkers) (8 page)

He tamped back the rush of guilt at his deception. He had to push that aside. Because things were about to get hard, and this was bigger than the both of them. From the second he’d seen her face, he’d known it somewhere deep down. That they were destined from the start, for better or worse. And no matter how hard he fought, nothing would’ve kept them from winding up here. In this place at this moment. The crossroads where he would have to choose between his people or his woman.

That choice was no choice at all. She was the light in a sea of darkness. The good in the midst of so much bad. The piece of the puzzle that had been missing in his life. And while she didn’t know how to process it all so quickly, and couldn’t explain it to herself, he knew she felt the same.

Which was why, when the time came to tell all, he hoped she would forgive him his deceit. Especially once he had officially renounced his former life. His position within The Protectorate. His job at the club. The use of magic altogether.

Soon, he would cease to be the same type of monster that had taken Zara’s father from her.

In all ways but one,
the beast inside him whispered.

Because even now, the urge to feed from her pulled at him, so strong, he quaked with it. For the moment, he could resist. Eventually though, he would have no choice. She would need him to feed to give her longevity, and he would need every ounce of strength he could muster to fight off his nightwalker brethren.

Because if he had figured out that Zara was the daughter of a vampire hunter…the one who had murdered Melissande? It was only a matter of time before the others did.

And when they did? There would be hell to pay.

He squeezed her lush, soft form closer, letting the scent of cherry blossoms wash over him.

Let them come.

Because Zara Matheson was his, now and evermore and he would end anyone who tried to take her from him.

S
o warm
…

Zara’s lids fluttered open and she peered next to her. The sense of excitement tempered with caution that had stayed with her all weekend didn’t fade as she looked into the sleeping face of Gabriel Thorne. His chiseled features were kissed by the soft, morning light peeking through the thick curtains, and she resisted the urge to trace his firm lips with the tip of her finger.

Man was he gorgeous. She almost wanted to pinch herself. If someone had asked her a few days ago if she’d be in bed with a guy who owned a place like Club Nitris, she would’ve laughed in their face.

Now, though? She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“You know it’s almost seven, right,” Gabriel murmured into her hair even as he squeezed her closer.

She let out a groan and burrowed deeper into the crook of his arms, tracing the thin line of hair that led from his navel to somewhere beneath the sheets that was getting more enticing by the second.

“Careful. Another inch there and you’re going to wind up being late for work,” he warned with a low chuckle that held just the hint of a threat…or a promise.

A rush of heat suffused her from head to toe and she actually considered it for a second.

But it was Tuesday. And she’d already called in sick on Monday. Steph had been blowing up her phone since she’d missed the party Friday night. If she didn’t make an appearance soon, she was going to think Zara was being held captive somewhere.

The thought of it should’ve induced a laugh, but instead, it sent a shiver through her. Being Gabriel’s captive actually didn’t sound like a bad idea.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his jaw before forcing herself to roll away. The second she stood, she regretted it. From warm and cozy to downright chilly and lonely in an instant.

"I wish I could stay. I really do, but we have a whole new shipment of books coming in today to be sorted, covered and catalogued, and my co-worker is counting on me. It wouldn’t be fair to leave her hanging."

His eyes gleamed as they trailed from her face downward, growing even darker when they settled on the curve of her breasts.

"I admire that about you," he murmured, his voice gritty. "But in that case, you have three seconds to get out of my sight or I'm not responsible for my actions."

A quiver ran through her, along with a deep pang of regret. "I want to stay, Gabriel, believe me-"

"One."

He crossed his arms behind his head, making his biceps bulge in the most mouthwatering way, and kept his gaze locked on hers.

"Two."

She wet her lips, a tingle shooting straight to her core. "Seriously, I-"

"Three." He moved so fast, she almost wondered if she'd imagined it, but right as his hand reached for her forearm, she squealed and ran for the bathroom.

"Have to go!"

She slammed the door closed and collapsed against it laughing and breathless. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and gasped.

Cripes on a cracker, who was this woman? Her hair was a golden tangle around her head, her cheeks were flushed a shade of pink she'd only seen in a field of wildflowers and her mouth was puffy and red. She definitely looked like she'd spent the night beneath a man like Gabriel Thorne.

But more than that?

She looked happy. A hint of a smile still curved her lips, and her eyes were alight with joy and life. When was the last time she'd felt so good? Ever? Certainly not since her father's death.

She straightened and made her way to the sink, the smile fading. She'd barely thought of him in the past few days. Instead, she'd been wrapped up in Gabriel. Talking with him, playing silly board games, watching bad movies, feeding one another wine and cheese, and when that ran out, ravioli from a can. They’d barely left the house aside from returning her rental car for her repaired Mini and getting her a new phone to replace the one that had shattered in the accident.

But despite her little vacation from reality, hidden away with Gabriel, some things hadn’t changed. In the light of day, her father was still dead, and she still had no answers as to why.

A dull ache throbbed behind her breastbone and she bent over the sink and turned on the faucet. She washed her face with ice-cold water and patted it dry with a plush, white towel before facing herself in the mirror again.

This was it. A crossroads she’d heard others speak of in their own lives but had never experienced herself. She could dwell on the past and continue down the path of self-destruction and grief. The very same path that had almost cost the amazing man in the next room his life, or she could choose to let go.

Let go of her father. Let go of the unanswered questions. And start to let go of the grief, to move on.

"What would dad want?" she murmured softly.

A trick question if there ever was one, because her father would want answers. And if the shoe was on the other foot, he would strap on that stupid wooden stake and that holy water pendant and run around town leaving no stone unturned to get to the bottom of what had happened to her.

But would he want her to do that?

She knew the answer without a doubt. Even at his most paranoid, he had been protective of her. He’d told her from the very start that to be seen with him or connected with him in any way would be dangerous for her. Hell, he believed it so much, he had basically removed himself from her life for the first twenty-plus years to protect her. So would he want her putting herself at risk in hopes of solving the mystery of his death that, according to everyone else, wasn't a mystery at all?

He wouldn't.

He would want her safe. And for the first time since his death, she wanted to be safe. And maybe even happy for once.

Vampires, indeed.

How humiliating that she’d allowed herself to be convinced of such a thing with literally no proof aside from the writings of a very sick man. She had to get her mind around the fact that admitting her father suffered from a severe mental illness and setting aside the things he’d told her wasn’t a betrayal.

Cheeks heating, she sucked in a steadying breath and turned to don the robe she’d adopted as her own over the past few days. Then, she made her way back into the bedroom.

Gabriel was standing by the door with two steaming mugs in hand and she breathed in the heavenly scent. Luckily for her sanity, he’d taken the time to dress in a t-shirt and a pair of gym pants.

"Bless you," she said, and bustled over to him to snag one from his unresisting hand. She took a long sip and marveled that he had fixed it exactly as she liked it. They'd only spent three days together and already he was paying attention to her likes and dislikes. She couldn't deny that the thought warmed her insides almost as much as the coffee did.

"Thank you," she said, embarrassed when her voice cracked with emotion.

It wasn't just the coffee. Whatever happened from here, he had changed her life for the better. She was beginning to heal and she owed that to Gabriel. Now she just had to make sure that she didn't put on loads of pressure or scare him off.

Take it slow, Zara. Let it unfold naturally.

"Will I see you tonight?" she blurted before she could stop herself.

His face gave nothing away as he set his own mug on a nearby dresser. "I've got a lot of business to attend to that I've been neglecting, but I'll be in touch soon, all right?"

Before his vague words could sting too badly, he bent low and brushed her mouth with his, laying his hands lightly on her hips. Even that slight connection sent goose bumps rising on her arms. Her whole body pitched forward toward his until she stopped herself. It was time to leave, or she was never getting out of there.

She pulled away with a sigh of regret and stepped back. “Duty calls.”

She bent low to scoop up her clothes that were scattered all over the floor, and scuttled back into the bathroom.

There was no question that, after only a few hours of actual sleep, the day was going to feel long as all get out. But at least she’d have something to think about to keep her busy.

If only she could see into the future.

Would this be nothing but a bittersweet memory that she would revisit in her mind, or would they see each other again? She didn’t know for sure, but for the first time in months, she found herself filled with anticipation and excited to see what the coming days held.

* * *

"
S
orry I'm late
."

Zara shot Steph an apologetic smile and set her purse down on her desk with a
thunk
.

"I overslept."

"You overslept?" Steph demanded, setting down the pile of books she'd been holding and wheeling around to look at Zara. "Are you sure you're feeling better? You never overs-" She broke off and her lively, green eyes narrowed on Zara's face. She let out a screech and promptly shoved Zara on the shoulder, hard.

"You got laid, didn't you? Oh my god, you little scamp. You got laid!" Steph pushed her again until Zara stumbled back into her office chair. Then, Steph dragged the front counter stool a few feet closer to Zara’s chair before perching on it. "I want every single detail. Don't leave out a thing."

Zara briefly considered lying, but the goofy smile she could feel stretching from cheek to cheek made lying pointless. She was stone cold busted. Might as well come clean. Plus, it would give her a chance to get an outside perspective and relive the past few days with Gabriel.

"Um, okay, where should I start?"

"You left here Friday night, and then didn't come to the party. Start there," Steph said, waving her hand impatiently.

Zara winced. That was the part she didn't want to have to relive. A wave of nausea passed over her as she recalled the thud of Gabriel's body against the hood of her car.

She shoved the memory aside and gnawed on her lip before beginning.

"Well, I had a bit of an…incident with my car on the way home. And, um, this guy helped me."

"So, wait.” Steph held up one hand like a traffic cop. “What kind of incident? And what guy? Like a hot mechanic? Was it like a porno? Did he come up with his tool and coveralls and say, like, ‘'Scuse me, ma'am. Need a little help getting that engine lubed?’ or something?"

Zara let out a crack of laughter and tugged her arms out of her coat sleeves. "God, no. No, he was walking down the street and I, uh, bumped him with my car."

Steph stared at her, unblinkingly. "
Bumped
him? You mean like you ran someone over in the Mini? And I'm just hearing about this now?"

"I didn’t run him
over
. I just ran
into
him. And he’s okay. I didn't know it at the time, but he wound up being fine."

"Obviously, if he managed to do this to you." She swept a hand up and down over Zara from head to toe, likely pointing out what Zara had noted in the mirror earlier that morning. "You look like the cat who ate the cream, the canary and the catnip all in one meal. Damn. I’ve been going about this dating thing all wrong. I’ve been just waiting for guys to ask me out. Maybe I need to run one over with my car."

Zara shook her head with a chuckle. "You have an SUV. That seems like a bad idea."

"True. So stop stalling, keep going. You were about to get to the part where he forgave you for running him over if you agreed to kiss his booboo better. And by 'booboo' I mean--"

"Right!" Zara cut in, cheeks flaming. "Anyway, it was near my house. My phone broke in the crash, and we couldn’t call 911, so I helped him to my house. After I bandaged him up and checked him out, he was okay, but he stayed for a while and we got to talking."

Steph’s puckish eyes gleamed. "And then he ravaged you because he was impressed with your Flo Nightingale routine?"

"Not exactly."

Then he left without a by-your-leave, and, fearing he was a vampire, I stalked him at his place of work which is, oh yeah, a sex club.

This was where things got dicey and she wondered how to gloss over the rest of the details or if she even should. Steph had known loss. Her fiancé had passed away three years ago and she'd spiraled out of control for a year, nearly committing suicide in her own depression. If anyone could understand how grief made people do strange things, it would be her.

Zara made the decision on a dime.

"Look, I've been secretive because it sounds crazy, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about." She sucked in a deep breath and let the words come out in a rush. “At first I thought Gabriel might be a vampire.”

For the next twenty minutes, Steph sat motionless as Zara let it all out. About her father's conspiracy theories, the secret room, the call from Detective Rick Gleason. Even the wooden stake and the sex club.

By the time she finished, Steph's eyes were glazed over and she sat back on her stool with a whispered, "Holy fucking shit."

"Yeah. That's what I thought too," Zara said. She inspected her friend's face and let out a small sigh of relief that she hadn't made a run for the door or called the funny farm yet. That was promising, at least.