A Hunters Promise (8 page)

“Good.” Joelle sat in the chair next to the bed. “I wanted to check on you to make sure you were doing okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Aislinn demanded. “I mean, I’m fine. My wrist is great, and I feel much better after sleeping. Because you know I slept a lot so that helps; sleeping, I mean.” She shut her mouth and went back to eating.
Babble much
, she thought.
Jeez, just put a sign up
.

“Sleeping surely does help a lot,” Joelle said dryly. “I know all about it. Talon and I sleep too. A lot.”

Aislinn slowly looked up to find the other woman watching her with a big smile. She wasn’t sure what to say. Did she agree? Did she ignore?

“Don’t feel bad. It’s them, the Hunters, they’re hot. I couldn’t resist either.” Joelle leaned forward and patted Aislinn’s leg. “I’m just glad I have someone else in the same boat as me. Now, I won’t feel lonely being the only girl here.”

“I don’t… I’m not… Wow.”

“If you want to talk or you just need an ear, let me know. It’s difficult to be in the position we are, you know, humans who know about Parakind. It’s not like we can talk to the guys about it; they wouldn’t get it.”

“I’ve never had a friend before.” The words popped out before Aislinn could stop them.
Great, come off sounding needy and whiney. That’s the way to connect with people.

“You have one now,” Joelle said with a smile. “I’ll let you finish eating, and I’m going to rustle up some clothes for you. You can’t run around wearing Charon’s shirts for the rest of your life.”

She looked down at the black shirt she wore. “Is that what this is? I had no idea.”

Joelle shrugged. “Believe me, he couldn’t care less. If he’s like Talon, he likes you wearing his stuff. When I get back, I’ll take you to see Kenshin. He’s the director of the PIA.”

After Joelle left, Aislinn sat for a long moment. Everything had gone so fast she wasn’t sure what to think anymore. One minute, she’s being attacked by a vampire, and the next, she’s here being pleasured by a man she barely knew. Okay, that was wrong, she might not have known his name, but she knew Charon. He’d shown up every night for months to train her. She trusted him. But she wasn’t sure what was going on now.

She’d let him put his hands on her. Put his mouth on her. What did that mean? What did he think of her? He wasn’t there when she woke up, so did he think she let every guy touch her? What would she say to him when she saw him? Would he pretend it had never happened? Aislinn leaned back against the headboard and sighed. The hospital had been so simple. She knew the rules and expectations and did what she was supposed to do. She didn’t talk to anyone but a handful of people. This made navigating the days easier. The less she got involved the less she was bothered.

She finished the meal, knowing she needed to keep her strength up. She would just pretend that what happened between them didn’t happen. It was easier that way. She wanted him to train her so she could fight. Anything else was done. And if, in the dark of the night, she played through what he’d done to her in her head, no one would be the wiser.

* * * *

Reaper stretched and his back popped. Damn, he’d been hunched over papers for what felt like days. He’d discarded the initial packet Quenton had given him when he realized the guy wrote about a host of women instead of just one. That was a no-go in the Liaison category, since only one person could be an Ancient’s Liaison.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Fuck, he wasn’t cut out to sit. He wanted to be out killing stuff. Instead, he’d been volunteered into helping out with research. Yeah, and he’d already covered this ground in his complaining.
Get over it
, he thought.
You’re here so get it done.

A mug containing steaming liquid was placed on the desk beside him. He glanced up to find Quenton and wondered once again what the hell the man thought. He was pretty much an enigma and kept conversation to a minimum. Reaper thought he’d be all Chatty Cathy, but the man had sat so quietly Reaper often thought he was alone. Until he looked up, of course, and there’d Quenton would be with his dark head bent low over some bit or piece of parchment.

“What is it?” Reaper asked, staring into the mug. “Doesn’t look like coffee.”

“Tea, and just try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you coffee.” Quenton said with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand what all of you see in coffee, but to me, it’s bitter and fairly disgusting.”

Reaper started to deny, but actually thought about it. “Well yeah, but sometimes that’s the only thing that can get you going in the morning.”

“You’re going to fall back on the drink being an acquired taste? That’s bullocks, and you know it. Try the tea, you might actually like it. And it has caffeine.”

Reaper sniffed at the cup and took a sip. It was actually not bad. Strong, with a slight smoky flavor and a tad sweet. He took another drink. “It’s pretty good.”

Quenton blinked. “Really?”

“I said it, didn’t I?”

“It just surprised me since most of you all go on and on about leaf water.”

“Well, for leaf water, it’s okay.” Reaper shrugged and leaned back over the letter he was attempting to read. The writing was fairly cramped and small, which made it difficult to decipher.

Quenton put a magnifying glass next to him. “Try that, it might help.”

“Thanks.” Reaper used it to study the letter, thankful that he could actually see a bit better. As he read, he realized this Ancient was writing to a human. A human he couldn’t get out of his mind. “I think I might have something.”

Quenton came to lean over him. “Finally, I was starting to worry that the journal was the only thing in here.”

“Do we have anything else from this guy? The letter reads like it’s part of a series or something. Like they’ve been writing to one another a while.”

“What’s his name?”

“Feral? Maybe? No, wait, Lucian?”

“That can’t be right,” Quenton muttered. “No Ancient has a name like Lucian.”

“Maybe his parents wanted him to fit in,” Reaper suggested.

“Could be, but, I think you were right with the first name. Feral, that’s what the signature at the end looks like. Who is Lucian?”

“I think that’s who he’s writing to.”

“Wait,” Quenton said as he hurried over to a large cabinet.

Reaper watched the smaller man shuffle through papers and books. He was careful, but quick, and Reaper wondered how he kept everything straight. Hell, what did it matter? As soon as he could, he was hitting the streets. He needed to get out and kill something. Sitting on his ass was making him antsy and wired.

“I found it,” Quenton said, carrying a small leather bound book over. “I thought I recognized his name. We have his journal.” He put it on the desk in front of Reaper. “This should tell us who Lucian is.”

“You already know.”

“No, I suspect, but I don’t know. Not for sure.”

“Who? So I don’t have to read every single page in the book.”

“I think Lucian is his Liaison.”

Reaper thought about it for a long moment. Why couldn’t a human male be an Ancient’s Liaison? There were no rules that said only male and female. Hell, right now, they were shooting in the dark, so there were no such things as rules.

“Does that disturb you?” Quenton asked.

“What?” Reaper looked at him.

“Does the idea that a male could be your or another Hunter’s Liaison bother you?” Quenton asked, watching him closely. “Never mind, of course it does. You Hunters are such manly men.”

The last part was said with such sarcasm that Reaper almost smiled. Almost. Instead, he pulled Quenton down and kissed him. The other man fell into him, which gave Reaper the control. He thrust his tongue into Quenton’s mouth and swirled it around, tasting. Heat, a slight hint of tea, and spicy like the man himself. Quenton shuddered and hummed low in his throat. He was a hot handful, Reaper thought, as he slowly pulled away and righted the other man.

“It doesn’t bother me, at all,” Reaper said his voice a growl.

With that, he stood and left the library.

* * * *

Aislinn pulled on the clothes Joelle had brought her. It made her feel more normal to actually put things on that fit her instead of wearing oversized men’s clothing. Charon’s clothing. Thinking of Charon brought images of him to her mind. Him licking her and touching her and…
Stop
, she thought.
Stop thinking of him
. The whole episode was never going to happen again. It couldn’t. He was a vampire, and she was human. His kind scared her.
Yeah
, the voice in her head whispered,
sure he does.
Scares you that he won’t do it again.

“Whatever,” she muttered.

She grabbed up the brush and ran it through her hair. Quickly, she braided the mess and flipped it over her shoulder. She felt more like herself now, and even better, she didn’t have to pretend here. There would be no nurse shuffling in to give her medicine that she’d pretend to take. She wouldn’t have to go to therapy sessions or mix with people who thought she was crazier than they were.

She moved to the door, but it opened before she got there. Charon stepped in. The two of them watched one another warily until Aislinn shook her head. She refused to feel awkward in front of him. What they’d done, they’d done together. She hadn’t forced him, and he certainly hadn’t forced her. Just because it wouldn’t happen again didn’t mean they couldn’t still work together.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m ready.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ready? You’re clothed, so it doesn’t look like it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really? That’s what you came up with?”

He burst out laughing. “Apparently so. I’d planned to get back here faster, but I had to take care of some things. If you want, we can hit the gym.”

“Sounds good, but Joelle said she was taking me to see Kenshin.”

“He’s out, so we’ll hit the gym first.”

He led her out. They walked down corridors, turned corners and went through doors. She was glad he led, since there was no way she’d ever remember any of this. He must have an exceptional memory or lived in the place for a while. Finally, he opened a steel door, and she found herself in a state-of-the-art gym. Machines, free weights, sparring ring, and a wall lined with weapons surrounded her, and she loved it. She moved through the place, touching and investigating, loving how new everything was.

“Here, try this,” he said, interrupting her investigation.

She turned to find he held out to her a
naginata
, but it wasn’t cobbled together like her other. This one was sleek and gorgeous with a black lacquer wood handle and gently curving blade. Aislinn took it from Charon, and the weight settled easily in her hands, as if it were made for her. She twirled it about experimentally, and the blade whistled as it cut the air. If the man in front of her hadn’t given her a bucket of orgasms, she would have certainly had another.

“It’s yours,” Charon said.

“I can’t take this,” she said, caressing the weapon. “It’s beautiful.”

“So are you, but that’s beside the point. You need a weapon, and this one is perfect for you. I made sure of it.”

She looked up at him. “Did you get this for me? Or make it for me?”

“Irish, you ask too many questions.” He leaned down and kissed her very lightly. He’d never done that before, she realized. He’d done everything else to her, but never kissed her.

“So, let’s get you used to it,” he said, stepping back.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She watched as he picked up a long pole and approached her. His weapon had no blade, but she knew no matter how fast she was, she’d never hit him. Now that she knew he was vampire, it made sense, and she probably should have thought of it before. She guessed she didn’t want to think too much since the realization would have scared her. Now, it just made her work harder.

They moved and hit and jumped until she could feel her legs wobbling, but she didn’t give up. Whatever came at her wouldn’t stop if she told it she was tired. Yeah, it would eat her face, and since she only had one, she couldn’t afford for that to happen. Through force of will, she continued until Charon called a halt. He was barely breathing hard, and she was huffing and puffing and sweating like a pig. She went down on one knee, but still maintained a grip on her weapon if he decided to come at her again. He’d done it in the past, and she didn’t trust him.

“You’re learning,” he said. “I’ll set you up with a training program. You need to build up not only your strength, but stamina. We have the time and the space now and don’t have to hide.”

“So you’re saying I’m weak?” Anger leaked into her voice.

“No, Irish, I’m not. But if you’re going to fight beside us then you need to be able to handle it. I won’t take you out into the field if you’re not ready.”

“You’re not yanking my chain? You’ll really let me fight?”

“You’ve been fighting for months now. I’ll just give you a wider field to practice on. But you don’t go until I’m satisfied. Understood?”

She nodded. “Okay. But I want to go again.”