Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel) (36 page)

"Yeah, I know they are." He released her hair to enfold her hand in his. "Thanks for reminding me."

"You're welcome to sniff my hair anytime."

"Yeah? Be careful what you offer." He wanted to smile, which indicated just how good it felt to be near her. He never thought he'd be the guy who wanted to smile when he had no time to do so. "Tell me about Skye. You seemed to know each other." He knew they had to get to business. He had to tell her what he'd found, and he needed to know if she'd come up with anything. But for a minute, for a brief respite, he wanted to simply focus on her and to settle his soul. When he'd watched Jordyn and Skye talk to each other, the tangible bond between the women had been so beautiful that he'd wanted to walk over to them and breathe it in. He had that kind of bond with Tristan, but he'd never witnessed it between anyone else. It shouldn't surprise him that Jordyn was capable of that kind of connection, but it had still stunned him to be shown, yet again, what an incredible woman she was.

Genuine affection flashed across Jordyn's face. "Skye was a few years younger than I was," she said as she leaned back in her chair, apparently feeling the same need to be in the moment and step away from the gritty reality engulfing them. "Her dad was an extremely famous singer, but he was a terrible person. He had tons of drugs in his house, and an endless stream of groupies that came through there. Skye used to sneak out and hang out with me. I felt protective of her, especially since I knew what it was like to have a terrible father."

Eric smiled at the tenderness in Jordyn's voice. "Always the one with the heart that's open to others," he said. "I'm sure she appreciated it more than you know."

Jordyn picked up his hand and traced the burn marks on his palm. "I liked helping her. It made me feel good to try to bring some brightness into the world. My grandmother was nice to her as well. David even took her under his wing. It was a team effort. She was such a spunky kid, and I didn't want her father to destroy her."

He was mesmerized watching her fingers stroke his palm. "I'm pretty sure no one has touched me like that in my entire life," he commented.

She glanced at him. "Like what?"

"Softly. Absently. As if touching me is the most natural thing in the world for you, so much that you don't even think about it. It just happens."

Her fingers stilled, and he instantly regretted bringing it up. He knew damn well that she didn't want anything between them, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. "She ended up moving away?" he asked, trying to draw her attention back to Skye.

Jordyn nodded, and began to trace the lines on his palm again. "Her dad sometimes took her on tour with him, and the last time they went, they never came back. His mansion just sat there empty. I never heard from her again, so when my grandmother died, I left. I always wondered what happened to her." She smiled. "I'm so glad she's okay, well, relatively speaking."

"She seems to still have her spunk," he agreed, wanting to draw out the conversation. He liked seeing the sparkle in her eyes. It made her face light up, which, in turn, made his gut clench with need, but he had the discipline not to launch himself at her. Right now, just sitting there with her felt like a treasured moment in time that he had to remember in perfect detail, because he'd never have another moment like this again.

"Do you think she's a NightHunter as well?" Jordyn asked, her face becoming troubled.

"I think David's trying to recruit her, yes." Grimly, he accepted the inevitable intrusion of reality. He grabbed a leather-bound folder that he'd set on the table, and he handed it to her. "He's not the only NightHunter," he said. "He's found others." He flipped open the cover and showed her a list of names, and the vampires they'd killed. He pointed to a man named Richard LaSalle. "I'm guessing that's our friend from downstairs," he said. "He'd killed seventeen vampires, but you can see from the notes that he'd been bitten badly eleven times."

Jordyn leaned forward to read, her hair falling across her face like a shield, cutting her off from him. He didn't like it, so he tucked her hair behind her ear, pulling it back from her face. "David wrote that he thinks Richard is turning." She looked at him. "You think he is the one who attacked Richard last night? Not a vampire?"

"I don't know." He thought back to the moment when David had been treating Richard. "I'd assumed he was trying to save him. It certainly felt that way."

Jordyn met his gaze, refusing to shy away from the truth, no matter how bad it might be. "What if he wasn't? What if David brought him back here to kill him?"

Eric thought back to Richard. There was no doubt the man had been crazed and deadly. He whistled softly and draped his arm across the back of her chair, instinctively using his body to shield her. "David kills his own teammates? He should die for that."

"No." Jordyn sat up, shoving the file away from her. "We don't know he's killed his own people. I'm not judging him." The turmoil of her emotions pressed at him. Doubt, mixed with sadness and love. "He was trying to save him. I could tell."

"I agree." And he did. David had definitely been trying to save Richard…but had he been trying to save his life, or save him from a fate worse than hell? Maybe David had concluded that Richard had become vampire, and he'd pulled the plug on the guy. Or maybe he'd really been trying to save his life all the way until the last moment. For Jordyn's sake, he wanted David to be the good guy, he really did.

Eric watched the play of emotions across Jordyn's face, and allowed them to filter over him. She didn't try to suppress her love for David, a deep, penetrating emotion of warmth that made dangerous energy ripple over him.

She looked sharply at him, apparently sensing the thunderous jealousy suddenly crashing through him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." There was no way on this earth he was going to admit he was jealous of that bastard, because he wasn't. Yeah, it grated at him that she got all soft-looking when she thought of David, and he wanted her to have that expression for
him
, but he was cool with it, right? Yeah, right. "What did you find out from the book?" he said gruffly.

"Oh, well." She sat back in her chair. "My grandmother was a NightHunter. David was correct."

Eric nodded. "Not surprising." He'd figured as much. "I'm guessing that spirit trapped in the shed was a vampire."

She nodded. "Yes. It was a vampire, but my grandmother trapped it instead of killing it because she was trying to figure out how to bring it back to sanity. She died before she could finish her project. Her goal was to find a way to make all vampires sane, but she didn't have much success. She apparently was the one who invented that powder I used to help that one vampire, but she never was able to make the effects last long. "

A small smile played across Eric's face. "Exactly what you would do as well," he observed. "A NightHunter who wanted to save what she was born to kill."

Jordyn nodded. "She did kill over a hundred, though." She sighed. "David's right about vampires in general. They've slaughtered so many innocents. My grandmother met only one vampire who was able to hold onto his humanity for the duration," Her gaze was troubled as it settled on his face. "There are hardly any like you," she said. "Except for that one vampire, even those who start off sane eventually all cross that line."

He shrugged. "I'm a special guy. We both knew that already, right?"

"It's not a joke, Eric." She touched his hand, her fingers brushing across his palm as if reassuring herself that he was really okay.

He squeezed her hand. "I know, honey. It's habit to diffuse the heavy shit with humor. Keeps me sane."

"Humor is the secret, then?" She managed a smile. "Then you should be all set."

"Without a doubt." He nodded at the book, not wanting to get to the point of having to make promises he couldn't keep. "What else is in there?"

She pulled back from him, focusing on the book again. "The first half is mostly the meeting notes for the guild. They were just getting started, so there isn't any new information on killing vampires in that part, just mostly the runes and beheading. I'm guessing David flipped through that section, and didn't bother to read the rest."

Eric sat up, his instincts firing up. "The rest?" He chuckled. "I knew the man was a thug. Of course he'd miss the real value in it. What did he overlook?"

"A lot." She flipped back several pages. "Look here. See this date?"

He leaned over her shoulder, enjoying the opportunity to inhale her scent again. "1595? Your grandmother wrote a journal entry in 1595?" He frowned, reading it again. "Mistake?"

"No." She sat back, and looked at him. "As it turns out, my grandmother was more than four hundred years old. She apparently led the team that was hunting Cicatrice back then. She tracked him to his mansion, which, ironically, is the same house that Skye grew up in four hundred years later. My grandmother went there intending to kill him, but instead, they fell in love."

He blinked. "What?"

"Roses, hearts, shooting stars, the whole nine yards. From mortal enemy to true passion and the kind of love that transcends everything else." She flipped to another page. "He even wrote her poems. See?"

The words were somewhat blurred and faded with age, but there was no doubt that there was something about roses, kisses, endless moonlight, and blood. "Damn."

"Yes, exactly." She closed the book. "An accomplished NightHunter and a master vampire, mortal enemies, fell madly in love. They exchanged blood enough times that she became immortal. So, true love forever, right?"

He raised his brows. "No?"

"No. He was still a deadly killer, and he couldn't contain himself, even for her. One night, after he'd been sane for over a hundred years and had fed only from her, something set him off. She didn't write what it was, and I don't know if she knew. He slipped out and went hunting. He found a farmhouse, and he lost control. He killed the farmer and his wife, and was just heading for the children when my grandmother showed up."

He didn't need to ask. He knew enough about the strength of the women in Jordyn's family. "She killed him."

"Yes, she did." There was no pride in Jordyn's voice, just sadness, because she knew exactly what it was like to have the man she'd trusted betray her. "He stayed true to his nature, and she did what she had to do."

He touched her arm. "I'm sorry, Jordyn."

"There's more." She put her hand over his, but her fingers were cold. "For all those four hundred years when he was in the grave, he kept his spirit alive by feeding on hers. That's why she was so old when I knew her, because he had literally drained the life force from her until she died, taking away the immortality he'd granted her." Anger flooded her voice, and she set her hands on her hips. "Is that love? No. But he did it anyway, and when he sensed that she was dying, he tried to latch onto me."

Eric stared at her, grim realization settling in him. "So, Cicatrice wants you as a replacement for the woman he loved?"

"Her blood runs strong in me. We have the same magic. To him, I'm almost as good." She sagged against the seat, folding her arms across her chest, as if to ward off the memories. "That's why my grandmother spent so much time teaching me how to fend him off. She used to make me sleep out in the swamp by her side, and she would teach me how to weave safeguards against him that held even when I was asleep."

Eric leaned back in his seat, running his hand through his hair. Son of a bitch. A master vampire had been preparing to harvest Jordyn for decades, and now he was back, ready to finally make her his? Shit.

"My grandmother was so scared of him," Jordyn said. "But now I realize she was afraid for me, not for herself." She met Eric's gaze. "She was terrified I would suffer the same fate as she had." She gestured to the book. "Even after all that, even on the last day before she died, she wrote that she still loved him." She laughed bitterly. "It's the curse of the Leahy women," she said. "Love the wrong man until they destroy you. Four hundred years with him, and she could never get free." She pointed her finger at him. "That's why I can't love you, Eric. Do you get it? Seriously? Because loving the wrong man is a terrible, terrible curse that makes you sacrifice those you love."

"Jordyn." He wrapped her index finger in his hand and turned it away. "I do understand," he said softly. "I would never, ever ask you to make a choice that would hurt you."

"You don't want me to love you?" She searched his face, her gaze desperate and vulnerable.

As she asked the question, he thought again of what it had felt like to feel her love for David and Skye, and he knew he'd be lying if he said he didn't want her to include him in that circle of love. He wanted it. He absolutely wanted it.

Jordyn's brow furrowed, and her face paled. She went still, so still that he could hear the rustle of leaves in the trees outside, and the ripple of something swimming through the swamp. "Eric? You don't want me to love you, do you?"

What the hell was he going to do? Tell her that his entire soul literally burned for her to fall in love with him, a cursed killer she might have to murder at any moment? He was a man who was steeped in death and demons, and now, apparently was on his way to becoming the same kind of vile creature that had trapped and killed her own grandmother, if he wasn't already there.

He wouldn't do that to her. Ever.

So he met her gaze, and he lied to the woman he'd promised he would never, ever lie to. "No, Jordyn. I don't want you to love me." He cut himself off, unable to utter even one more syllable of untruth to her, knowing that if he kept talking, he wasn't going to be able to be the guy she deserved and put her safety before his own needs. He'd probably go down on his knees like some sap and offer what was left of his soul if she would, for one blessed second, bestow upon him that love that she gave so freely to everyone else. No, not simply that kind of love. He wanted that one and only love, the kind of love that a woman gave only once in a lifetime. He wanted more than the love she'd given Walter. He wanted it
all.