Buried Passion Page 6

  She dashed down the hall as he made for the front. Seconds later, a lock clicked in the background. A heavy sigh fluttered past his lip. He swung open the entrance door and pegged on a smile.

  “Hey, you cut your hair.” Chayton greeted him with a pat on the back. “I’ve never seen it this short.”

  Ian brushed a hand over the unfamiliar do. A few days before leaving Qualla, he made the trim. Life had undergone a drastic change, so why not a new style to complement his unfortunate circumstance. He stepped aside as Chayton entered. “Yeah, I wanted something different. Where’s Amber?”

  “In the truck. She needs a minute. Morning sickness. It’s unrelenting, I tell you.”

  He snorted a laugh. “I’ll thank her for being considerate and not throwing up in my house.” Physically, his friend still looked the same; jet-black hair layered his face, dark eyes almost black. But there was a definite change. A permanent sparkle lit his eyes, and he smiled…all the time. So different from the depressed man Ian saturated with a fire hose a few months ago. The transformation was all thanks to Amber. A mate did that to a werewolf, completed them, gave them meaning in life.

  Chayton pointed to the covered windows. “Why is it so dark in here?”

  “This might be hard to believe. Take a seat.” Ian hurried to the kitchen, grabbed two cups and a pitcher of water. Back in the living room, he set the beverage on the coffee table, gaze paused over the blue box in his best friend’s grasp. “The blood bags?”

  Dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I can’t figure out why you need these.”

  “I brought home a woman last night.” Ian paced from the fireplace to the armchair, his mouth hung open as he registered what he’d just said. She wasn’t just a woman, but a leech, their natural enemy. Man, how did he explain his situation? Should he tell Chayton her name? Was Rachel even her real name? This was so confusing.

  “Why’d you assume I’d find that hard to believe?” Humor etched Chayton’s tone. “What’s her name?”

  No one, not even Chayton knew of the celibate lifestyle he’d taken up since his mate died. “I’m not sure.”

  Chayton smacked his forehead. “That’s why you called us here. You’ve forgotten her name and hoped we’d introduce ourselves, so you can get your ass saved.” He then frowned and pointed to the cooler. “That doesn’t explain the blood bags, though.”

  “No.” If only the situation was that simple. “You don’t understand. This woman, she doesn’t know her own name.”

  “What?”

  “Ian!” Her shout echoed from down the hall. “The bags…please.”

  Right, starving vampire. He rolled his eyes. Impatient little leech couldn’t wait to bite into one.

  Chayton cocked a brow. “Is that her?”

  With a curt nod, he retrieved the cooler from his friend’s feet. “Give me a sec.”

  A cloudy memory from the horrid morning those vampires attacked flashed back as he headed for the bathroom. If the sun hadn’t risen, they would have finished him instead of leaving him on the ground, weak and suffering. Werewolves were fast healers by nature, but with the great loss of blood, he’d been close to death. They’d laugh now if they saw him aiding one of their own. Cheeks hot, his insides flinched. He knocked on the bathroom door before entering.

  Rachel waited by the covered window, clutching the basin behind her, foot tapping with rapid speed. He tossed the cooler. She caught the case with ease, proving her flawless reflexes. With the lid removed, she snagged a bag and tore into the plastic, as predicted. Droplets spilled on the tiles as greedy sucking and moaning echoed the small bathroom. He grimaced and stomped forward. “You’re spilling it.”

  Her eyes narrowed with silent warning not to interrupt, similar to a dog growling when disturbed during its feed. Plump lips worked the bag as she leaned over the sink and devoured the blood.

  “Feeling any better?” Chayton’s voice travelled from the next room. Amber had come inside.

  “Go easy on them…they have to last.” He shook his head when she stared out from the corner of her eye. Chayton and Amber waited in the living area, but his gaze glued to the monstrous sight of the vampire hacking into another bag. How could anyone enjoy such a ghastly act? Ian’s stomach churned. It was unnatural, barbaric… “You make me sick.” The words shot from his mouth with the energy of his emotions.

  Her pupils dilated as her eyes flashed. She turned, mouth still attached to the bag, and gave him her back. Knots twisted his stomach, the reaction instantaneous. For the first time in a long time he didn’t mean what he said. Everything Rachel had told him, everything she had been through, yet he still stood here and judged her. His behavior baffled him. But why? He’d never had a soft spot for vampires. So, what the hell was wrong with him?

  Whatever answer he hoped for, he wouldn’t find it here. Ian turned and stormed into the living area in time for another round of Chayton versus Amber.

  “What restaurant?” Chayton cocked a brow.

  Amber placed a hand on her hip. “The Mexican one we passed on the way.”

  “That place is great,” Ian threw in.

  Amber spun around with a smile that eased his pent-up tension. Dressed in lilac, velour sweats, hair tied in a sloppy ponytail, and her thick, usually pink lips almost gray, she looked horrible. Morning sickness had to be taking its toll, but none of that deterred the unmissable glow in her eyes.

  “Well well well, Goldilocks, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” So different from the person who fussed over smudged makeup or a strand of hair out of place. Either she was unconcerned with her image or too sick to care. Ian kissed her cheek and veered back in time to evade the slap to his arm.

  “Shut up. I’m having a hellish day without your smart mouth commentating. By the way, the Caesar cut suits you.”

  “Back up a sec, Amber. You stuffed your face with pickles and mayonnaise before we got here, suffered morning sickness on the way, and now want to go to a Mexican restaurant?”

  Ian chuckled and took a seat. Chayton and Amber’s quarrels were so entertaining at times.

  “Now I’m craving a burrito. Got a problem?”

  Woah, Amber sounded like Chayton’s high school bully all over again.

  His best friend raised both hands in surrender.

  Amber gave a victorious grin.

  Whipped. Hard….the lucky bastard.

  “What’s going on with you, Ian?” she asked, snuggled into her mate’s side on the sofa. Chayton placed an arm around her, the movement natural, comfortable.

  Ian's chest compressed; another reminder how he would never be able to embrace his own mate. An image sprouted of Rachel in his lap; tracing her shoulders down to her breasts, her waist, then clutching her thighs, spreading her legs wide before sinking his fingers deep…

  “I think Ian has a vampire in his house?” Chayton questioned with a raised brow.

  “You guessed it.” Regardless of her beauty, these fantasies about the vilest creature on earth had to stop.

  “And she doesn’t remember her name?”

  Jaw flexed, he sniggered. “I guess she has amnesia or something.”

  Chayton scratched his temple. “Wait a sec…how’d you end up in this situation? Especially you. You can’t stand vampires.”

  “I should have left her on the street after she tried attacking me, but she begged me to help her out of the sun. So I drove here.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s ravenous. Right now she’s hacking at the bags as if she can’t get enough. Even though she has fed from more than one source in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s strange.” Amber cocked her head. “Brianna told me one feed a day satisfies a vampire. This woman might be dangerous, like the addicted in Désuet.”

  “An addict?” Oh, what had he ushered home? To be born a vampire was bad luck in itself, but to be burdened with an illness… Ian knew too well how cruel fate was.

  “Yes. Remember my cousin’s moitié, Tristan D
elacroix, the vampire who gave Chayton that letter to deliver to me?”

  “The guy who kidnapped your cousin, right?”

  “Yeah, well, his twin brother Maurice is an addict. There’s a facility in Désuet for vampires with the condition, a rehabilitation centre because they can’t control themselves.”

  Indeed, Rachel wasn’t normal, even for a vampire. After the little commotion earlier, maybe Rachel locked away in a facility was for the best. As for her memory, could it be possible in her mindless bloodlust she’d forgotten her past?

  Chayton leaped from the couch and secured Amber behind him. “We can’t stay here. I will not let Amber be harmed by a madwoman.”

  Ian too, stood. “Relax, do you think I’ll let her touch a hair on Amber’s head?”

  Amber grinned, unfazed. “I have two big werewolves to protect me. Besides, I can always place her under a spell if she gets out of line. Call her out here, Ian. I want to meet her.”

  Chayton’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “No damn way. If anything, we should contact Tristan, let him know about this woman. They might need to take her into custody.”

  Ian cringed inside. More vampires in his house. Perfect. “Chayton’s right. She’s unstable, untrustworthy.” He stopped from telling them about what happened with his niece. Rachel had said she wanted the rabbit. Deep down he believed her, even though he didn’t want to. Was it because he was desperate to hold on to this hatred for vampires?

  Amber sighed and looped an arm with Chayton’s. “Fine, let’s go. I’ll contact Brianna when we’re at the restaurant and wait for them to arrive.” She glimpsed the watch on her wrist. “Which will be soon since it’s almost sundown.” She turned to Ian with a stern look. “We’ll see you later. Be careful.”

  “Start the car.” Chayton kissed Amber on the forehead. “I’ll be right there.”

  Chayton spun on Ian once alone, face red, lips curled. “You may be my best friend, but I am beyond pissed at you for making me drag Amber down here.”

  Overprotective wolf instincts. “I’m sorry. I thought with Amber being a witch she could hold her own.” The stress of this vampire under his roof contributed to his impetuousness. Ian should have thought better, but anxiousness had fried common sense. “Look, nothing happened. If it had, we would’ve both protected Amber. You know that.”

  Chayton growled. “After the miscarriage, I assumed you better than anyone understood how important this child is to us. The last time Amber was injured…” He shook his head as though dismissing a horrible image. “If anything happened to her or this baby…for crying out loud Ian, the vampire is on a blood bender!” The words rushed from his twisted mouth. “Now, I’m going to get in my truck and convince Amber not to return later with the others.”

  “If she does, I swear I’ll protect her and your child with my last breath. Rachel won’t come near them.”

  “Rachel?” An insincere smile matched his frown. “What is she, a pet you’ve now named?”

  Venom swirled in his friend’s dark eyes. If Ian’s bonded was alive, he’d be reacting the same way. Regardless of a werewolf’s supernatural strength, a mate in danger sent his kind into a frenzy. “Chay-man, I’m sorry. I mean it.” Ian averted his eyes. A weight heavier than steel compressed his chest.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  Chayton stormed toward his car. Ian swallowed back another apology as it didn’t help the matter. First, the distress he caused his sisters and nieces, now he riled his best friend. Damn the parasite, she was not family or pack, so why risk those he cared about to help her? She was beyond his help. The vampires would soon come to take her. Once they did, he could forget she even existed, and this whole ordeal would be nothing but a bad memory.

  Chapter 5

  Rachel scrunched the plastic and sucked the remnants of the blood. Stomach now settled, she dropped the third empty bag into the cooler. Crimson spots splattered the ceramic white sink, and she rinsed away the mess. Ian already considered her means of survival atrocious, so the last thing needed was his scornful look at the evidence of her feast. Lid on the box, she tucked her supply into the corner.

  “You make me sick.” His earlier words stung like a bitch. She’d been too busy drinking to lash out, but now that each syllable played on her mind, she’d wished she spat blood in his face. She tilted her chin. So what, the werewolf despised her, as if it mattered. Determined to gain back the dignity his voice denied, she refused to care. And to think she came onto him earlier. Explosive emotions had ruled her body. She’d followed the instinct without flinching. Hell, she might need a mood ring with this unpredictable behavior. As for Ian, one minute the sight of him aroused her, and the next she feared he conspired against her. Did all vampires struggle with such a mixed bag of emotions?

  A car engine hummed. She jumped. His friends had to be leaving. Their mumbles had resounded in the background, but again, she’d been too distracted to pay attention to what they discussed. No reason to hide any longer. She made for the door, but her hand slipped from the handle as pain speared her temples. On a soundless moan, she fell to her knees. Eyes burning, she shut them tight, and greeted the familiar iridescent colors.

  The more she held back tears, the more she cried. The sodden handkerchief used to dab her wet face and neck left a chill on her skin. She stared out the window of the plush limousine, not in the mood to face her mourning family in the car. Hundreds had come to pay their respect. The crowd dressed in black headed to the burial site, their glum faces fit the occasion. She held her breath, nose pressed against the tinted window. The hollow in her chest grew as two hearses entered Lynnhurst Cemetery.

  “Rachel,” a man’s voice soothed. “We’re all waiting.”

  When did the car stop? Why bother facing hundreds of people sharing their condolences? It meant nothing, didn’t change their situation. Curled into the corner of the seat, she glanced at the smiling faces on the booklet in her lap. The title ‘A Celebration Of Life’ blurred as fresh tears fell from her face and skimmed over the words; in loving memory of Morgan and Phillip Johnson. More tears landed on the picture of her mother’s gorgeous hazel eyes and her father’s brown-gray hair.

  Soft music sounded in front. The chauffeur had slid down the privacy screen, his eyes framed in the rear-view mirror as he peered at the commotion in the back. Her dad’s favorite Elvis song played on the radio, evoking memories of the two of them singing in the cadillac. Her throat closed.

  Not once had she apologised to her dad for breaking her promise. They planned to attend the car show together every year, but he ended up going alone. As predicted she grew older and became interested in other things; friends, concerts, the mall…Jeff. Precious time with her father, their special tradition given up. Another sob barrelled out. She clutched the booklet to her chest and blubbered, heart breaking with each painful exhale. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered, wishing she could tear out her heart. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Come on, Rachel,” the man beside her encouraged.

  “No. I don’t want to say goodbye. You can’t make me say goodbye.”

  Throat raw and burning, Rachel came to with a faded scream. Hot tears landed on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. A dull ache attacked her heart, the same sensation as in her memory. No. They can’t be dead.

  Loud banging sounded outside the door. “What’s going on in there?”

  On her feet, she peered into the mirror, blood dribbled down her nose, eyes bloodshot. Were these horrible dreams or actual past events? One way to find out. Rinsing the blood from her face, she dried her nose with a towel. The cemetery had been the same place where she’d awakened. She flicked the lock and barged past a wide-eyed Ian.

  “Why were you screaming?” he called after her.

  Rachel headed down the hallway, limbs trembling. The clock in the living room showed six pm. No natural light shone through the blanket pinned on the window. If it was night, she could leave this place. Her hand shook as she pinched t
he comforter and drew it aside. Darkness. Thank God.

  “What are you doing?” Ian demanded when she snatched her hooded sweatshirt and opened the front door. He grasped her elbow as she took the first step. “Answer me.”

  “Let me go.” She struggled against his hold, but his stronger than steel grip dragged her back into the house. “I need to find the cemetery.” Teeth bared, her shout echoed in the living room. “If you keep me here, I will trash this place. That’s a promise.” Beyond outraged, she was pertinacious and lingered on the brink of ruthlessness. They neared the hallway. With all her strength, she yanked free and spun in the direction of the exit.

  Behind her, Ian gasped followed by a loud thud. The floor shook beneath her feet from the impact. She’d expected to break out of his hold, not haul him to the ground.

  A loud bellow reverberated the walls. “Son of a…”

  She jerked a glance over her shoulder, tempted to salute him with her middle finger. Her heart stuttered to a stop. Ian sat up, clutched his hand. Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the polished hardwood. An orange and cream triangular shard of glass sat embedded in the centre of his palm. The broken lamp. Oh crap.

  By his side before she could blink, she took his hand and observed the damage. Blood seeped from the deep fleshy gash. A lump formed in her throat. “I’m sorry. I could’ve sworn I swept all the remains.” She stood with him and kept a hold of his hand as she led the way to the bathroom. Plug in the sink, she filled it with warm, soapy water. “I hope it doesn’t get infected.”

  He kept quiet. Too quiet. She glimpsed his solemn face, his piercing gaze gave nothing away. Neither weariness nor gratitude shone from his eyes as he studied her, but a deep curiosity. Rachel concentrated on removing the shard. Ian didn’t flinch. Did it even hurt or was he too focussed on her? With the glass removed, she placed the sharp piece on the vanity. About to lower his hand into the soapy water, Rachel choked back a gasp. Ian’s skin weaved itself back together as though the damage reversed. The wound healed.