Hunted, The Complete Edition: A Full-length Steamy Vampire Romance (New England Nightwalkers) (15 page)

Z
ara came
awake as if she was rising from the bottom of a warm swimming pool. Idle, languid consciousness of cool air around her.

Background noise slowly filtered in. The low, pleasant crackle of a fire. The sound of rain or ice pattering on the rooftop. She opened her eyes and blinked until the room came into focus. Cedar planks surrounded her, and the woody scent filled her nostrils.

A cabin, for sure. And since she didn't own a cabin, that was very strange. She moved to sit up when the night before came rushing back in one, fell swoop.

Gabriel's hidden rooms.

The book secreted away in the cubbyhole in the corner.

And the picture that slipped out from it…Gabriel's picture from over a century before.

She squeezed her eyes closed as a dozen different emotions clogged her mind. How was it even possible that her crazy, paranoid father's conspiracy theory hadn't been a conspiracy theory at all?

He was right. He'd been right all along. Vampires existed and she, Zara Matheson, small town librarian, had been sleeping with one of them.

An image of Gabriel passed through her brain and stuck, front and center. Of all the times she'd committed his gorgeous face to memory, why was it that this particular one was the one she couldn’t shake?

Gabriel, staring at her, eyes clouded with what she could only take to be resignation and pain as he peered down at the handle of that letter opener jutting out from his chest.

Her lip began to tremble and she bit it hard, trying to ward off the tears that blurred her vision.

She wasn't at fault here. He had lied to her a thousand times and every time they'd made love--the very thought caused a pain sharp enough to make her suck in a breath--had been fake. Based on nothing but lies and deceit.

She yanked the blankets more tightly around her chest and froze. She glanced down and realized she was wearing a soft, oversized sweatshirt that wasn't her own. Yanking the blankets aside, she gazed down at a pair of black yoga pants that she also didn't own.

When she and Gabriel had fought it out in his study, she'd been wearing the robe he'd given her from his own collection. So that meant sometime between then and now, someone had changed her clothes.

"That son of a bitch."

The misplaced rush of guilt she’d felt over stabbing him was quickly replaced by anger. Would the betrayal ever end?

Her stomach flopped as she thought of his hands on her. How quickly her tune had changed. Hadn't it just been a few days before that she'd been telling Steph how a man had never made her feel this way before? Hadn't she been lying beneath him one night ago, crying out, telling him she loved him?

The man whose sole mission in life was to protect her father’s murderer?

Shame roiled up, and she gagged before getting in control again.

She had to start thinking instead of feeling. There was no use in beating herself up for her mistakes. Not now, at least. She would have an entire lifetime of regret and recriminations...if she could get away from Gabriel and his band of fright-show monsters.

She moved to throw her legs over the side of the bed and search the room for a weapon or escape routes when a
jangle
sounded, and her motion was cut short. She yanked off the last of the covers and stared down at the shackle encircling her right ankle. A chain led from it down to a hole in the floor just beneath the bed.

She was momentarily paralyzed with panic as the realization rained down on her. Not only was she stuck in a cabin with a vampire, she was also chained.

Trapped.

His prisoner.

Love, indeed.

The bitter laugh that bubbled in her throat felt better than the bone-deep despair she was barely managing to fight back, and she embraced it.

The anger. The fury. The indignation.

That was what would get her through this. She was strong. If she focused and made survival her only goal, she might get out of this alive. And then? Between the regret and recriminations, she could begin to work toward vengeance.

She'd been so weak, so vulnerable, she'd let herself be swayed from what she'd vowed to do, which was finish the work her father had started and avenge his death.

Now she was back on track.

Hell, maybe she should thank Gabriel. After Deputy Gleason's call a few weeks before when he’d told her they were closing the case, she'd all but given up on ever finding answers. She’d been about to dive headlong into a heap of depression that she had little chance of crawling her way out of. Now, she had a mission again, and this time, her resolve was stronger than ever.

She wouldn't rest until it was done.

But, damn, she hurt right now. And the engineer of her pain was still her captor.

The sound of footfalls outside the door sent her heart pounding into overdrive and she quickly lay back, yanking the sheets over her again.

Okay, so maybe she was ready for vengeance, but she wasn't
quite
ready to see Gabriel again face to face. She needed a little more time to plan. A chance to get control of her emotions so she didn't make another rash mistake that she might not be able to rectify.

When a key scraped into the lock and the door opened a moment later, she was on her side with her eyes closed, breathing soft and slow. She wished there was a way to control her pulse, though, because she could feel it beating wildly in her neck.

Please, God, let him see I'm sleeping and walk away.

"Zara, I know you're awake." His voice was soft, but firm. "The only reason you are is because I released you from your slumber."

Rage returned on a dime and she abandoned the sleep pretense, sitting up like a shot to glare at him.

"’Released me from my slumber’? You mean stopped controlling me like a puppet with your Jedi mind tricks, you son of a bitch?"

So much for calm and rational, but damn it, releasing the venom she'd been keeping inside felt good.

"Do you know how wrong that is? To climb into someone's brain like a wormy little parasite and take over their thoughts? I hate you."

She stared at him, chest heaving with anger, but even through the red haze, she couldn't help but note that he didn't look angry in return. Her words wounded him. She could see it in his eyes.

She narrowed her gaze on his face. He looked terrible all around, in fact. Exhausted, paler than usual, his cheekbones two harsh slashes in the middle of his face.

Had he gotten ill?

She shoved the thought aside ruthlessly. Who cared if he was sick? If she had her way, he'd be dead soon.

So then why was it suddenly so hard to catch her breath at the idea of that?

She choked back a sob and gestured down to her clothes, refueling the engine of fury. "Did you undress me? Did you see me naked without my permission?" She let out a low, bitter laugh. "Or were
all
of those times without my permission? Maybe that's how you like it. Taking what you want whether it's given freely or not."

It was a low blow, and she knew it, but she didn't care. She had sold out her own father because she'd been so taken with this man. He deserved to feel even an ounce of the pain and regret she felt.

"Never."

His response resounded like a crack of thunder, and his eyes went as dark as two chips of coal. "I would never take you against your will, Zara. Not you or any woman."

He raked a hand through his dark hair and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I changed your clothes because it was sleeting out when I carried you in and you were soaking wet. I kept my eyes averted the entire time."

She didn't acknowledge that, but in her heart, somehow she knew he spoke the truth. That wouldn't sway her, though. What was one single truth in a mountain of lies?

She settled back against the headboard, and eyed him, wishing she was standing so she could get a little closer to eye level. She already felt so small.

"Right, you’re a real Boy Scout. So, in the interest of being this good, upstanding guy, you stripped off my clothes and chained me to a bed... have I got that right now?" She crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the sudden chill.

"I chained you in case you woke up and did something rash like try to take a dive out the window in your desperation to escape me," he said, crossing the room toward the bed. When he got a few feet away, she couldn't help but draw back, pressing herself more firmly against the headboard.

He slowed to a standstill and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I would sooner cut off my own arm than hurt you, so you can stop flinching whenever I get close. I know I've earned your mistrust, but seeing you cower from me tears my guts out."

She felt some of the anger and fear drain out of her at his words but then instantly recalled it.

It had been twelve hours since he'd admitted that he was a vampire, that he had lied to her, and that his own brethren were responsible for her father's murder. Surely, it should take more than a few words of reassurance from him for her to feel anything close to safe with this man?

He dragged the chair from the corner of the room over to the side of her bed and folded his big body into it.

"As soon as we clear the air a little, I'll take the shackle off. It's not my intention to make you feel like a prisoner here, but I need to make sure you understand that if you leave my side right now, you’ll be in very grave danger." His lips twisted into a grim smile and he shook his head slowly. "Honestly? Even at my side, you're still in grave danger, but our best chances of making it through this are if we stay together."

She wished she could ignore him forever. In fact, the sooner she could get out of the wide shadow his presence cast, the better.

Again, she found herself searching his face, wondering what was happening with his health that he looked sick so quickly. She refocused her gaze on a spot over his shoulder.

"Making it through what, exactly?" she asked, her tone stiff.

"What I told you last night was the truth. Ezekiel's mate Melissande was killed by your father in what he believed to be retaliation for the Bonfire Massacre. He was then killed himself by Ezekiel, and my kind was thrown into a mad search for anyone else who might have had something to do with Melissande's murder."

"And that's what led you to me," she finished, flicking a glance toward him. "How? Why?"

"We have a tech team who monitors Internet searches on our kind in the area. Usually, it’s just teen goths with a morbid fascination. Sometimes, when things get uncomfortably specific, they hone in and recommend a more thorough investigation. That’s what happened with you. We couldn’t understand why you were so interested in the Bonfire Massacre and the death of your father because we didn’t know you were related to him. There are no records supporting that."

She nodded, her own thoughts pushing her anger aside for the moment. "He made very sure to keep our connection off the grid. Even before the vampire thing, he was sure something insidious was afoot pretty much non-stop. Aliens. Government secrets. You name it, he thought it. And this time..." She trailed off as another thought occurred to her. "Oh my god. So the whole thing where I hit you with my car? That was--"

She knew the answer before he gave it, but she still needed to hear him say it.

"Staged. All of it." He held her gaze solemnly. "Irena wanted me to follow you and then mesmerize you to find out who you were and what your interest in the nightwalkers was. I had to follow orders and find out who you were, but I chose to get the information another way."

Another way
.

Humiliation engulfed her and her cheeks went white-hot as she recalled the "other way".

"So you draw the moral line at mesmerizing someone but you're totally fine with making them think they nearly killed you and then using your powers to seduce them? That's an interesting rationalization method, Gabriel,” she said with a smile that was ice-cold. “You should teach it to me sometime."

"I didn't use my powers against you," he said, pushing his chair back and rolling to his feet. "Except yesterday, when it was done out of necessity. If you had refused to come with me, you’d have been dead by now. What we had was what we had. No magic. No tricks. I can understand why you'd rather not believe that, but it's the truth."

She didn't want to hear that right now, and she chose to ignore it. "So you pretended I ran you over and then what? What was the master plan?"

"To look through your house and see if I could find out who you were and why you were researching us. I needed you to invite me into your home of your own accord."

And, damn her, she did.

"I’m guessing you found nothing, so what made you keep following me?"

"You came to the club. Irena saw you at the front entrance with the doorman. She instantly got suspicious, and I couldn’t argue your innocence anymore. Once I got close to you, I could smell the holy water around your neck."

She blanched, mentally cursing herself a fool. "You must've had a good laugh about that."

Knowing now some of what Gabriel and his kind were capable of? Knowing that at any point, he could just take over her brain waves like he was changing the station on the radio, made her all too aware of how close she'd come to death that night, wooden stake and water or no.

"I never laughed at you, Zara. Not even once."

His tone was so sincere and defeated sounding, a rush of sadness poured through her. Part of her wanted nothing more than to go to him. To cup his face in her hands and tell him it was all right. And then she pictured her father's dead body, and the urge was gone.

"That doesn't matter anymore. What matters is where we go from here. You brought me to this place for a reason, and I need to know what that reason is."

He met her gaze and shrugged. "Simple. I’m trying to save your life. It will take some time, but I know I can find a place to take you where you can hide and they’ll never find you."

"As in, you think I'm going to go someplace with
you
?" she shook her head. "Nope."