Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3) (11 page)

When she reached the top of the stairs, three doors waited…but all of them were wide open. Jane peered inside the first door and saw nothing. An empty office space. The second door also led to a vacant room, one covered with a layer of dust. But the third room…

Jane walked inside. And her breath froze in her lungs.

The floor of the third room was covered in spray paint—a big, looping design. A red paint image of the Greek letter Omega.

The same symbol that had been burned into her right side so many years before.

Jane crept into that room, her gaze darting from the spray paint design to the surveillance camera that was attached to the window.

The watcher did this. He was keeping an eye on me and on my brother.

But why? Why the hell was she so important to him? And who the hell was he? Jane paced closer to the window. No green light glowed from that camera. It was off now…because there was nothing left to watch? She needed that camera bagged and tagged. Maybe the crime scene techs could find some evidence on it, something that she could use. Something that…

A phone was ringing.

Jane stilled. Her gaze darted to the right, to the far corner of the room, and she saw a small phone on the floor. It vibrated, shaking against the wooden floor as it rang again.

Her breath blew slowly from her lungs. Was this another trap? She inched toward the phone. If she picked it up, was the place going to blow up? Would
she
blow up? For all she knew, the whole building could be wired to explode and the cell phone was some sort of detonation trigger. Just in case…

Jane raced toward the phone, moving with her vamp speed—or as much of it as she could muster right then. She snatched it up and rushed out of that building in mere seconds. When she left—she slammed into Mason because he’d been lurking far too close to the building’s entrance. She drove the breath from him with that impact. Jane heard the loud
oof
he gave as he slammed to the ground.

She jerked him up and hauled him away from the building, her hand still tight around the phone. Jane glanced back. The place hadn’t blown…yet.

“You were, um, sure moving fast,” Mason blurted.

The phone had stopped ringing.

“Get some techs out here,” Jane ordered him. “And some bomb sniffing dogs, too.”

His eyes widened. He nodded once, then whirled away as he ran back to the patrol car.

The phone in her hand began to ring again. Since she was clear of the building, Jane answered. “Who the hell is this?”

Laughter. Deep. Rumbling. “Are you missing something, Detective Hart? Or maybe…someone?”

She nearly shattered that phone in her tight grip. “Yeah, I’m missing you. Some jerk who thinks it is funny to play with people’s lives.”

“You’re not a person. We both know that.”

Her shoulders hunched as she paced away from Mason. “I get it. You think I’m some unholy beast that needs to be put down, right? Some big, bad monster that has to be stopped, huh? Then come out—stop me.
Stop me.
”

“I know where your brother is.”

Jane stilled.

“And I’m going to tell you…because I do like to watch you work.”

You are a sick bastard and I will end you.

“It’s not you he hates so much, is it? It’s your lover.” A sigh slipped over the line. “Poor Jane. You thought you’d found a happy ending. You don’t even realize what you’ve done.”

Jane spun around, her gaze searching the street. “Are you watching me right now?” Because she thought he was. After all, that phone had rang right on cue, just as she’d entered that room upstairs and then again—right when she’d cleared the building. He’d left her a burner phone—one that she was sure was going to prove untraceable—and the SOB was hiding in the shadows. Watching her.

“I’ve discovered that I rather like watching you, Jane. More than a job, it’s a downright passion now.”

His voice…it was distorted. Why? Why distort the voice unless…unless he thought she would recognize him.

“You should hurry, Jane. Your brother is going to strike soon. This time, I’m not the one you have to worry about.”

Then he hung up. Sonofabitch.

***

Garrison handed the bagged blood to Annette, his gaze darting nervously around the old club. “Is he…is Paris really a vamp?”

Annette took the blood—the bags were cold because Garrison had just pulled them out of an ice chest. Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she fought it down. Now wasn’t the time for fear or squeamishness.

She didn’t answer Garrison as she turned away and stalked to the back room. The place seemed to whisper to her, dark and twisted secrets spilling from its walls. There had been pain in this place, and not just the kind that was
invited
at a BDSM club. The building had an old history, as did most of the places in New Orleans. Ghosts lingered. Pain and heartbreak pierced the air.

Those ghosts wanted to talk to her. She could feel them pulling at her, and, normally, she’d listen to them. Maybe she’d even try to help them.

Not today. Today wasn’t for the dead.

Today was for Paris.

She shoved open the door to the back room. Aidan was there, staring down at his friend. Paris was rousing, blinking his eyes. His fangs were already out.

“Give me the blood,” Aidan ordered darkly. “Then you’ll need to get back.”

It wasn’t as if she
wanted
to get bitten, so that plan sounded pretty good to her. Annette crept closer, then she put one bag of blood in his outstretched hand. She set the others nearby, then backed up.

“Paris.” Aidan said his name, his voice rumbling with the cold power of an alpha wolf.

Paris looked up at him…and then he was snapping his fangs. One instant, Paris had been slumped on the floor, and in the next second, he’d lunged up, going right for Aidan’s throat.

But Aidan was fast—deadly, wickedly fast. Paris missed the alpha’s throat and instead, a bag of blood was shoved into his mouth. His fangs punctured the bag and blood began to trickle out of his mouth.

But he’s drinking it. I can see him swallowing.

Annette wrapped her arms around her middle as she stood there. Paris sucked that bag dry and he didn’t vomit the blood back up.

That was good…wasn’t it? Or was it very, very bad?

Aidan shoved another bag at Paris’s mouth. Then another…another…Paris drained four bags of blood before his body sagged back against the wall, his hands hanging limply in the chains that bound him.

The ragged sound of Paris’s breathing seemed to fill the room.

Aidan stared at him, and the alpha’s face was impassive.

Paris had closed his eyes.

Annette inched forward.
Come back to us, Paris. Just come—

His eyes opened—and his golden stare locked straight on her. Hunger flared in his gaze. Lust. And…shame.

Annette’s lips parted in shock. “Paris?” Was he really coming back to them?

“Get…her…
out.
” His words were a growl.

Pain iced her heart.

“No,” Aidan fired right back. “Annette isn’t going anywhere. You need her. I need her.”

Paris squeezed his eyes shut. “You…were…s-supposed…to—”

“Don’t even start that kill me shit right now,” Aidan blasted. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with, got it? And I will
not
lose you like this. You’re talking to me. You’re sane again, you’re—”

“Feel it…clawing at me…” Paris gasped. His eyes flew open. She could see the battle in his bright gaze. “Can’t…hold…back…”

“Then we’ll get you more blood,” Aidan said. “We’ll get you whatever you need, but you keep fighting, understand?”

“Werewolves…k-kill…vamps…”

“Don’t tell me the rules,” Aidan snapped at him. “I’m the alpha. I fucking
make
the rules.”

Yes, he did.

Annette tip-toed closer.

“How the hell did this happen?” Aidan demanded. “How did you change? You didn’t have Jane’s blood. You didn’t even have my blood in the days leading up to this shit. You—”

“Ambulance,” he rasped the word. His gaze slid to Annette, and Paris licked his lips. The terrible burns on his body were finally starting to fade. “G-gave…blood…m-made…drink…”

“
What?”

Annette shivered at Aidan’s voice. So quiet. So cold. So deadly.

“Man…r-remember…” Each word seemed a struggle for Paris. His teeth snapped together again.

My, what sharp fangs you have.

The better to drink his prey dry.

And he looks at me as if I’m the prey he wants.

“H-he was there…poured blood…down…throat…” Paris yanked at the chains that held him, giving a guttural cry.

Annette jumped.

“It
hurts!
” Paris screamed. “R-ripping me apart! I feel it!
Inside—ripping me apart!
”

“I know,” Aidan said, his voice dipping so low now that Annette had to strain in order to hear him. “I feel the same fucking way.” His hand clamped on Paris’s shoulder. “You fight, you understand? You keep fighting. You—”

Paris went for his throat again, the moment of sanity seeming to fade.

But once more, Aidan dodged those biting teeth. He shoved another bag of blood at Paris. “Tell Garrison we’re going to need more,” he ordered. “A whole lot damn
more.
”

Annette stared at the two men, her heart aching.
Breaking.
Paris had come back, but only for a few moments before the madness claimed him again. She stumbled away, gave the order to a dazed Garrison for more blood, then she stood there, a dull buzzing filling her ears.

Garrison rushed to get more blood. And she…

Annette lifted her hand to her cheek. Why was it wet? She didn’t cry. She never cried. She didn’t let herself feel enough to cry. She always hid her emotions. You had to hide when you cared. Because if others found out what she cared about…

They’d destroy what she loved.

Only…

Another guttural cry seemed to echo through the building.

The man she’d secretly started to love…he was already being destroyed. But…by his own words, someone had done this to him. Paris had said that someone had given him blood. Some bastard out there…some fool she didn’t know…

He’d dared to fuck with the voodoo queen. With someone who was
hers.

She was going to find the bastard. And she’d make him pay for that crime with his life.

Jane rushed toward the old BDSM club, her heart racing. She was sick to her stomach and she hated the fear that iced her veins.
Aidan. Get to Aidan. Get to—

The door to the building opened and she nearly slammed right into Garrison. His eyes widened as he grabbed her arms. “Jane?”

She pushed him to the side and ran inside. She saw Annette, the woman was swiping at her cheeks.
Annette—crying? Oh, that is so not good.
“Where’s Aidan?” Jane demanded.

Annette jerked to attention. Her hand lifted—oh, crap, her fingers were shaking—as she pointed toward the back, toward the room that housed Paris. Jane ran forward, then stopped at Annette’s side. Her hand reached out and curled over Annette’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Tears gleamed in Annette’s eyes. “What’s the use of all the power…if you can’t save the one who matters most?”

Jane sucked in a sharp breath. “Annette…”

“I looked into my mirror hundreds of times over the years. People came to me—vampires came to me. Werewolves. Humans. They were all so desperate. And do you know what most of them wanted?”

Jane shook her head.

“To save a loved one. I…” Her head lowered. “I pitied them. Swore I wouldn’t ever be like them. Because when you are willing to offer up your own life for someone else…that just means the fates
will
make you pay the ultimate price.”

Jane didn’t know what to say. Annette was hurting and the fault…
it’s mine. I’m the one who didn’t save Paris. It’s on me.
Because she didn’t know what to say in order to ease Annette’s pain, Jane just pulled the other woman close in a tight hug.

Annette stiffened in her hold. “What are you doing?”

“It’s called a hug, Annette.”

Annette stayed stiff. “You’d better not bite me…” Her words were grumbled but her body slowly relaxed. A moment later, Jane risked a look at Annette’s face, and saw that the tears had left her eyes.

For the moment.

“When did you start to love him?” Jane asked her.

Annette’s chin lifted. “Does the when matter? Do you remember the exact moment you started to love that beast of yours?”

No, she just…had.

Jane slipped back from Annette. Her beast was in danger, and they had to be prepared for Drew. But before she could go to him, Annette caught her wrist in a tight grip.

“We have to find a way to save them both,” Annette whispered.

“Trust me, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

But Annette’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “What will you trade?”

That answer was simple. For Aidan’s life? “Everything.”

Annette’s hand slipped from hers. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Her laughter was bitter. “Just like all the desperate fools who came to see me…wanting to save others…and losing themselves along the way.”

Jane shivered as she hurried toward that back room. Annette followed behind her, so quietly, and when Jane stepped inside that room…

Paris was sleeping. Empty blood bags littered the floor around him. Aidan stood over the other man, his hands clenched, his head bowed.

Jane hesitated. “Aidan…”

His shoulders tensed. “You didn’t do this, Jane.”

Yes, she had. Guilt was a weight pulling at her ankles as she crept toward him.

Aidan turned to her and the fury on his face nearly stopped her heart. “Someone gave him tainted blood, Jane.
Deliberately.
While Paris was helpless in an ambulance, some bastard forced him to take vampire blood.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

“He
told
me. My blood gave Paris a few moments of sanity. He remembered.” Aidan’s hand rose and she saw that his claws had broken from the tips of his fingers. “I will find the bastard who did this to Paris. He will
pay.
”

Because there was always a price in this world, just as Annette had said. A price for good deeds. A price for darkness. As she stared at Aidan’s face, Jane could only see darkness. A rage that went soul deep and promised the harshest vengeance. She was staring into the eyes of the man she loved, and, Jane knew without any doubt in her mind, she was also staring straight into the eyes of a killer.

***

Jane had taken the phone with her. He’d rather suspected she would. After all, Jane was so desperate to protect her lover, she’d run straight to him.

And I was able to follow.

The old building wasn’t the hiding spot he’d anticipated for Aidan Locke. But then, Aidan wasn’t really the one who was hiding.

Paris Cole was hiding. Or, rather, being hidden.

He lifted his lens up so that he could focus on that building. He wasn’t getting too close, even with the special lotion he’d used to hide his scent. Jane had run into that building, and she’d nearly knocked over a redheaded man in her haste. The redhead was familiar—he’d seen the guy a few times before.

Another werewolf.
One who should have burned in the explosion he’d set, but Jane had saved his mangy hide.

The redhead didn’t matter to him. He needed to see Paris. Needed to find out just what was happening to that werewolf. Had he changed? Was he a vampire now? Mindless, desperate? Or…something more?

Jane hadn’t come out. He’d wait for her. After all, that was his job. To wait and to watch. He’d been paid so well for that job. For so very long.

And Jane had never even had a fucking clue. She’d thought she left her demons far behind her when she first moved to New Orleans. She’d been wrong. All along, they’d been right with her. She’d trusted the wrong people. She was
still
trusting the wrong ones.

She never even saw the threats coming.

But that was the thing about family and friends. They could blind you to their faults so perfectly. Blind you, trick you.

And in the end…kill you.

***

He had to hunt. Aidan’s claws were out and his beast wanted to take over. The thinnest thread of control held him back from a full shift. What he’d learned from Paris…

Someone did this to him. Someone made Paris this way.

It fucking enraged him.

His gaze shifted to Annette. “He gorged on the blood so he should be sated for a few hours, but I…I can’t leave him alone.”

She immediately shook her head. “He won’t be alone.”

“It isn’t safe to have other werewolves around him, not yet, so I can’t send any of my pack here.” He forced his back teeth to unclench. “Are you sure you can handle him?”

She gave a light, mocking laugh. “I told you before, alpha, I know how to handle the dead.” Her own gaze gleamed with a barely leashed rage. “Go find the one who did this to him. Bring him back…
to me.
”

She thought to get her own vengeance? Ah, not happening. The voodoo queen would need to get in line. Once Aidan was done with the guy, if there was anything left of the bastard, Annette could have the scraps of his soul to torture.

When he turned to leave, Jane immediately stepped to his side. “I’m coming with you.”

Not a good idea. Not when his control was so close to shattering. Aidan shook his head—

“That wasn’t a question,” Jane said quickly, breathlessly. “I’m coming. That freak watcher called me a few minutes ago—he said that my brother was on your trail, Aidan. We’ve got enemies closing in, and I’m not about to let you face danger alone.”

His eyes narrowed as his gaze raked over her face. “You’re afraid I’m going to kill Drew.” Hadn’t she asked him—more than once before—to promise he wouldn’t take her brother’s life? He would do many things for Jane, but that bastard…

He’s a dead man.

Blood wasn’t always the strongest bond.

“No,” Jane snapped back at him. “I’m afraid he’ll get more silver bullets and come after
you.
We’re getting threats on all sides, Aidan. Know what that means?” She caught his clawed fingers with her own. Then she laced their fingers together. “It means we’re stronger together.”

That was what they’d always said. He looked down at her hand. So small and fragile and soft within his grasp.

Jane.

His
Jane.

He wouldn’t lose her. Not to anything. He
couldn’t.
Aidan wasn’t sure if his sanity would survive without her. That thin thread of control that was holding in his mind? It was there because
she
was there. An anchor inside of him, a light pulling him back from the darkness that Aidan could feel threatening to swallow him whole.

“We’ll do it together,” Jane whispered.

His gaze slid to her throat. He could see her pulse racing there, could almost taste the blood beneath her skin. He’d had such a small sip from her before.

He needed more.

He would have
more.

His hold tightened on her. They left that hell, and he glanced back at Paris. Annette had knelt beside him, just beyond the line of dirt that she’d cast around his body. Paris hadn’t been able to cross past that dirt, not yet. Even when he’d lunged to attack Aidan, he hadn’t gone beyond the line. Aidan had crossed it in order to get to Paris, but his friend…

He was trapped.

Caged.

Beasts hated to be caged.

Am I different because I’m an alpha? Has Paris already lost his wolf completely?
It would seem so. No wonder the bloodlust was hitting Paris so hard. He had no defense against it. Aidan’s wolf was still battling, refusing to give up…

Tearing me apart in the fight.

Aidan sucked in a deep breath. He
would
find a way to fix of all of this. He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t.

Aidan and Jane slipped outside. His gaze scanned the street, looking for threats. The cemetery waited nearby, and he could see the statues and the mausoleums creeping above the heavy stone wall. His nostrils flared as he pulled in the scents around him. Humans. Perfume. Wine. Cigarettes.

“He left this phone for me.” Jane pulled it from her pocket. Her shoulder brushed against his chest. “The bastard had another surveillance camera set up, only this time it was in front of the Hathway Psychiatric Facility. He’d been watching my brother. When he called, he said that Drew was going to strike soon. That I had to get to you.”

“And you came running.” His words were rough and the hair on the nape of his neck rose. His gaze scanned the street. He looked back toward the cemetery and…

Light. Glinting.

Aidan didn’t say another word. He just took off running. He went straight for that cemetery wall. Jane yelled after him.

Aidan leapt over the wall. His knees didn’t buckle when he touched down on the other side. He rushed ahead, catching sight of a man’s dark hair.

“Aidan!” Jane yelled.

He glanced back just as she cleared the wall. That was his Jane.
Strong.
He turned back to face his prey—the fool wasn’t getting away.

The light glinted. He was watching us. Peering over the wall. Staring at us through—

Aidan grabbed the bastard.

And the device the man had been holding—a big, black camera—fell to the ground, shattering.

“
What the fucking hell!”
the man screamed. He turned on Aidan, swinging his fist. Aidan took the blow even as he caught sight of the dark lines of tattoos on the man’s wrist and forearm. Aidan laughed at the weak impact of that hit, and then his claws flew toward the fool who had thought to—

Jane jumped between him and his prey. “Aidan, stop!”

A sea of red was before his eyes. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted the bastard to
bleed.

And I’ll drink his blood. I’ll drink him down. He’ll beg and bleed and—

“Aidan?” Jane stared at him, worry flashing in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Aidan drove his claws into the nearby mausoleum. Chunks of stone flew into the air around him. Rage was choking him, and he
knew
the way he felt was wrong. He tried to breathe, to get past the rage.

“Jane!” It was his prey talking—the guy was reaching for Jane, staring at her with
familiarity.
And Jane was—Jane was shielding the guy. Some human who was covered with tattoos, with piercings running up the side of his left ear, and who…

I know him, too. Fuck.
He’d seen this guy before, back at Jane’s old apartment. When a paranormal fire had swept through the building, this asshole had been there. Jane had gotten Roth to safety and then, when an ambush happened on the streets and bullets started flying, Roth had run for cover.
And this asshole just left Jane to protect herself.

“Roth!” Jane looked back at the guy. “What in the hell is going on?”

Roth, Roth Sly. The name clicked for Aidan.
Fucking bastard.
He hadn’t seen Roth since the night he’d gotten Jane away from her old apartment. He hadn’t even given a second thought to the jerk since that time.

Obviously, my mistake.

“I don’t know what’s happening!” Roth yelled back. “I was minding my own damn business and this guy flew at me!”

Aidan tried to shove down his rage, for the moment.
Think. Focus.

“I was taking some pictures—you know how fucking important my art is to me, Jane,” Roth said, his words tumbling out. “Then this freak just came hurtling over the wall and
attacked
me.”

“It’s okay, Roth.” Jane’s voice was flat. “Everything is under control.” She stared hard at Aidan. “Isn’t it?”

His hands slowly slid from the stone. “For the moment.” Maybe. Barely. He glared at the guy. “Roth. I remember you.”

“Oh, shit,” Roth whispered. “Why do I feel like you mean that in a bad way?”

Because I do. I fucking do.

“You lived on the bottom floor of Jane’s building,” Aidan’s voice was a rough rumble. He couldn’t manage more than that. “The night I met you, your sorry ass hid behind a street sign when bullets started flying. You left Jane out in the open, vulnerable. You saved your own hide.”

Roth’s eyes bulged. “She is a cop, man! She knows how to take care of herself!” Roth was nearly as tall as Aidan and the guy was muscled, but in a match of strength, Aidan knew the fool wouldn’t even come close to his level. “I didn’t want to die! So, hell, yeah, I ran and hid! That’s what sane people do!” His gaze fell to the shattered camera. “Look what the hell you did…” He grabbed for the camera.