Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (19 page)

As much as she’d come to loathe his kind, she’d ended up craving him with a terrible need.

She was tired of thinking about him almost constantly, though. More often than not, her thoughts turned into elaborate fantasies that usually involved his fangs buried in her neck and his cock plunging in and out of her sex. Sick as hell.

Tonight, she was determined to change all that.

With a fresh lime in her hands, she moved into her workroom between the house and her garden. She set about creating a spell that she should have used about eleven months and four weeks ago. She had no doubt, once completed, the formula would end her obsession.

She fired up her cast iron pot-belly stove, using elder wood. Once blazing, she placed the blade portion of her hatchet on top. She needed the metal hot enough to slice instantly through a thick wax candle.

On her worktable, she cut the lime in half, then squeezed the juice onto a purified elder wood tray. She rolled a thick black candle in the juice and invoked Connor’s name several times until she felt the spell move into place. At the same time, she made use of one of her most powerful incantations. She then picked up the heated hatchet and held it aloft ready to slam the blade through the thick wax and break Connor’s hold on her.

She felt her witch power racing through her veins, giving her a heady buzz. The swirl of power let her know how potent the spell was. She had no doubt it would work.

With her arm poised and ready to strike, a soft longing ran through her, of things hidden behind the veil of death. Her sister came to mind and she felt, as she often did, a trail of loving fingers down both cheeks.

She closed her eyes, her throat tight. “Violet. Are you here?”

A wind from the garden whipped through the room, smelling of thyme, the herb of love she always associated with her sister. Tears tracked down her cheeks.

Violet was long dead, killed in a vampire massacre nine years ago. Yet, in this moment her sister’s spirit was here, in Iris’s workroom.

“Violet,” she whispered again.

Once more, the wind blew in a strong gust and the scent of thyme thickened in the air. “Don’t you want me to end this obsession?”

This time, the fingers once more touched her cheeks while the wind blew.
No-o-o-o,
came softly into her mind.

Iris talked with Violet a lot, but her sister had never communicated with words before, not once in all these years. Yet, she had now.

She lowered the hatchet and returned it to a slab of cast iron on the long butcher block counter near the sink. It would need time and a safe place to cool.

She felt frightened suddenly. Something was coming and Violet was part of it, as was Connor. She walked back out to her garden to try to calm down, but again she sensed Connor was near, watching her.

But why? She knew the reasons she’d fallen into an obsession with him, but why did he so often hover above her house?

***

Connor’s com vibrated against his shoulder. For the moment, he ignored it because Iris had finally returned to the garden. His whole vampire being was focused on her. He wanted her sex and he wanted her blood. And in a strange way, he longed to talk with her.

He stared down at her as she lifted her gaze once more in his direction, hunting through the night sky. But he knew she wouldn’t be able to see him. All vampires had the means to remain partially cloaked from witches, one of the few defenses they had against Iris’s kind. The distance completed his invisibility.

Using his scope, he centered it on her face once more. Damn, she was beautiful and that was part of the problem. He’d always preferred dark-haired women and her large, brown eyes had a soulful expression he knew reflected her nature, despite that she was a witch.

He knew a lot about her because he’d hunted her down on the Internet and made an illegal search of her home computer. He knew which websites she visited, that she followed a blog called, ‘Witches and Self-Awareness’, and her Tumblr page had lots of pictures of animals, the forest, and travel photos of Europe.

He even knew the porn site she preferred, which had been fodder for his fantasies over the past two months. Iris, of course, played the lead.

He really was just this side of stalking.

Hell, who was he kidding? He was stalking Iris, though to be fair he had no intention of ever intruding into her life.

An owl swooped down on her suddenly, then took up his usual perch in the huge tree at the back of her yard.

Her melodious voice hit the air once more. “Hello, Sebastien.” He could hear Iris laughing and talking with the owl, her pet, or muse or whatever it was witches used to conjure shit.

When his com buzzed for the second time, he swiftly rose another thirty feet in the air then pressed the button. “Connor.”

“Talking pretty quiet. You on a stake-out?”

He recognized Lily’s voice and some of the tension eased out of him. Lily worked dispatch, manning the phones and passing out assignments. “Trying not to attract notice.”

“So, who is she?”

The question startled him. He didn’t think anybody knew what he did between calls. Shit.

Then he realized Lily was fishing. “A beautiful Honda Scrambler, 1973.” Half true. He’d started to collect Café Racers, the older, the better.

He heard Lily snort. “You men and your machines. Okay, listen up. This comes from the chief. We’ve got a runner out at Amado Bridge and he wants you on this.”

Connor frowned. He didn’t usually work the dead-talker end of vampire territory. “Isn’t that Jason’s section?”

“Jason’s MIA, has been for two nights now, and the chief is about ready to explode.”

Unusual for Jason to be missing, but he was a Border Patrol officer and sometimes the men needed to go on a bender just to survive. “He’ll turn up, but his head won’t feel too good.”

Lily laughed. “I totally agree and to answer your next question, yes, Easton was adamant you take this call.”

No point arguing about any decision the chief made. “I’m on it.”

He took off, heading north in the direction of Crescent Territory, wondering what the hell he would find this time. He touched the hilt of his half-sword and thumbed the holster of his Glock. He wore black leather wrist guards lined with steel, a black tank, leathers, and heavy boots. He was ready.

Amado Bridge. He scowled. One of the worst terrains for a runner to attempt to take drugs into the human world.

His instincts lit up. Jason was missing, a runner was out at Amado and Easton wanted him on the assignment.

A sick feeling started crawling around his gut. This call already stunk and it was only midnight. Great.

***

At the same moment Iris felt Connor take off, her cell rang. She fished it from her jeans pocket and saw that the Tribunal was calling. She frowned because she wasn’t working tonight and she had a dozen orders to fill. Her job as a TPS officer barely paid the bills so she supplemented her income by creating special potions. Using a human dealer, she had her products selling at high prices in the various malls and specialty stores around Phoenix. She was doing well.

She touched the phone face. “Meldeere.”

“Sorry, Sweetie, but Donaldson wants you out at Amado Bridge.” Faith doled out the assignments through the night and had a calming effect with the officers. “Know where that is?”

“Northwest Crescent Territory.”

“Right.”

Iris frowned. “But I’m not on duty.”

“I told his royal highness as much, but his face turned red, you know in that fucked up wizard way of his. He then let a few choice words fly. I tossed up both my hands and said I’d give you a shout.”

Donaldson was a prick, no question about that. He was also corrupt as hell, so already Iris was uneasy. Corruption tended to lead to the three drug-lords in Five Bridges. But her fingers were squeaky clean so she couldn’t imagine why any of them would send her out there. “What’s the crime?”

“Some Border Patrol officer has gone berserk. Donaldson wants it documented and you have permission to take the BP’s ass out if you find him abusing the perp, which would be awesome.”

Crescent Territory was home to the
alter
vampires, which meant all Crescent Border Patrol officers were vampires.

Iris chuckled. She liked Faith. “You’re not being very politically correct. We’re supposed to honor all five species. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“What-the-fuck-evuh. Do us proud. Got another call.”

Iris put her phone back and started stripping off her smock. With her Sig Sauer clipped to her belt, she headed to her garage and revved up her TPS motorcycle. It was a big, heavy Harley-Davidson police cruiser, a bike fit for carting her around all five territories, including No Man’s Land. She wished she could fly like some of the more powerful vampire officers and a couple of the witches who served in Elegance’s Border Patrol. She didn’t have the gift of levitation, at least not yet. Maybe one day, if she lived long enough.

But she liked the bike, even though it was more machine than she needed. Although, it worked well for the bigger male bodies on the TPS force.

As she headed out, taking her quiet street at a low rumble, she wondered why she’d been called to Amado Bridge when there were at least a dozen witches and wizards on duty right now at the Trib station.

***

Connor had a flame-runner in his sights, an emaciated female with the telltale marks of drug-use blazing on her neck. He could see the tattoo-like flames. Hers were dark red, so he knew which cocktail she’d been using to get her head swimming: blood flame.

Because she was drug-running, he had every right as a Border Patrol officer to put a bullet in the back of her head. All three drug-lords preferred it as well. Prevented snitching.

But he never pulled the trigger unless he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He’d learned his lesson the hard way. Guilt still clawed at him, ripping him apart on a nightly basis, even though the incident was over nine-years-old now. He shuddered as the memory tried to push to the front of his head, but he shoved it back.

He levitated with long practice, his head bent slightly, arm raised as he gazed down his sights. Jesus, the woman was clawing her way up the steep side of the wash, weighed down by a loaded runner jacket. She must not have known the area.

So what was she doing out here? Runners by occupation were sneaky bastards, using tunnels that often collapsed on them to get from the cordoned off area of Five Bridges to Phoenix. The flame drugs, as well as the
alter
serums that could be added to the drugs, had transformed a fifteen square mile section of North Phoenix into five territories, each partitioned from the next with barbed wire then separated from Phoenix in the same way. The National Guard patrolled the external border of the entire circumference of Five Bridges.

He worked the internal border of Crescent Territory, trying to keep any of the numerous flame drugs from leaving Five Bridges.

That same sick feeling crawled through his stomach again.

He touched his shoulder com. “I’ve got eyes on the runner at Amado Bridge, but she’s a pretty weak female. Shall I bring her in?” Maybe Easton would want a say in this tonight.

When he got no answer on his shoulder com, he tried again.

And again.

He’d been disconnected.

Yeah. Something was off.

The runner was the key. And like hell he was going to serve as some asshole’s assassin, even if it was Easton himself who wanted the woman dead.

He holstered his gun and cursed. He needed to have a talk with her.

Levitating swiftly, he shot through the air. Gauging the distance, he caught her jacket at the back of the neck and lifted her up. She screamed as he carried her flailing to the upper edge of the wash and flung her into the dirt.

“What are you doing out here, runner?”

The woman didn’t move. She lay face down, one hand digging into the weeds. Her head was inches away from a stand of prickly pear.

She mumbled something, but he couldn’t hear her.

“Say again? You sound like you have rocks in your mouth.”

She lifted her head up. “Just kill us. We’ll both be better off.”

“Us?” He drew his gun out, holding it in both hands. He bent his knees and pivoted in a 360. Nothing. Except a witch on the bridge watching him. He stopped the moment he saw the woman. Why was she there?

Then he recognized the familiar dark ponytail. Holy fuck, it was Iris, but what was she doing on Amado Bridge?

He turned his attention back to the runner. “I don’t see anyone else. Who’s ‘us’, Ma’am? You got someone out here running with you?”

“Yes, but you’re looking in the wrong place.”

She wasn’t making sense. Blood flame had no doubt screwed with her mind.

“I’ll ask again; where’s your friend?”

“Here.”

Glancing down, he watched her turn on her side. She held her arm at the bottom of the coat, pressing it against her body.

When he saw the bulge of her stomach, his mind flipped over several times. The memory he’d been trying to suppress shot forward once more of another woman running flame.

Connor had killed her, shot her in the chest as she turned, gun in hand and pointed straight at him. He hadn’t hesitated.

But the gun had been taped to her wrist. A set-up.

She’d also been pregnant, just like this one.

Darkness swirled through his head, a familiar creeping of more regrets than any man should have to bear. He’d killed her and others equally as innocent over the years until his soul was as dark as night. The flame drugs had been at the bottom of it all. He’d gone through the change and become something he despised.

“You gonna shoot, or what?”

He shook his head. Coming back to himself, he holstered his Glock.

Five Bridges had worn him down to the marrow. But right now he knew something sinister was going on, directed at him and involving a drug addict lying in the dirt.

He shifted toward Iris. Was she involved in some way? Had she set him up? As a TPS officer, she had access to a lot of important people. The Tribunal was the combined government for all five species and held sway over each of the five separate territories as well as their individual border patrols.