Chapter 18

Kira forced herself to set the mug down even though there was still a swallow left in it. She slid it across the table to Gorgon.

“I’m done.”

The words were perhaps the hardest she’d uttered, yet she felt an accompanying swell of pride even through the howls of hunger that demanded she snatch that mug back and lick every drop from it.

Gorgon grinned at her. “Only your fifth day undead. You’re a strong one, aren’t you?”

Kira allowed a tight smile to cross her face. “Years of dieting make lots of women tough when it comes to controlling our appetites. Who knew that saying no to desserts would turn out to be boot camp for becoming a vampire?”

Gorgon laughed, taking her cup and rinsing the remaining blood out in the sink. Kira noted that he never drank from the bags that compromised the entirety of her meals, but he did disappear several hours each night. She hoped he varied his donors, or that their nearest neighbors weren’t anemic.

He tossed Kira a bottle of water from the refrigerator next. She drank it, grimacing at how it tasted now, but having already been warned that drinking water was important during her first couple weeks as a vampire. It seemed her new body burned through all the sustenance it received from blood without leaving anything left over to keep her from looking like a grape left too long in the sun. Kira hadn’t asked how it was possible that she could drink or eat, but no longer had any need for a toilet. Some vampire mysteries she wasn’t prepared to have explained to her yet.

On the plus side, she’d never have to deal with her period again, but having motherhood yanked out from under her was rough. Still, Tina had weathered the same inability to get pregnant due to her disease. Kira wouldn’t let herself fall into a slump over her similar new childless state, especially since she could always adopt, way in the future when she’d come to terms with everything her new existence entailed.

“Now.” Gorgon turned around, holding out an egg carton. “Let’s try this again.”

Kira eyed the egg crate with a mix of frustration and determination. A simple rule for new vampires was that if they couldn’t handle egg cartons without breaking the eggs, then they couldn’t be around humans without running the risk of inadvertently crushing them with a casual touch. In the past several days, Kira had demolished more egg crates and had her hands coated in more yolk than she wanted to remember. She still felt like she had some of that sticky substance stuck between her fingernails no matter how she scrubbed, but she was getting better. She managed not to rip doors off anymore, or leave holes instead of footprints in the floor, and the last egg carton she’d handled only had one broken egg in it when she was done.

Kira walked over to Gorgon, chanting “gentle, gentle” in her mind as she reached for the carton. When she managed to take it from Gorgon’s open grasp without any egg guts streaming out onto her hands, she grinned.

“Ha!” Looked like the fiftieth time was a charm.

Gorgon’s smile was proud. “Now, if you can open it and take some eggs out without breaking them, you’re almost ready to be around humans again.”

Very slowly, Kira opened the container and touched the top of an egg. It didn’t break, to her relief. Now all she had to do was take it out.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed Mencheres walk by. That was how she’d mostly seen him lately—out of the corner of her eye. He hadn’t been completely avoiding her, but he always seemed to be busy doing something else aside from spending time in the same room with her. It wasn’t done in a rude way. Instead, it almost came off as though Mencheres wanted to avoid her but couldn’t bring himself to totally stay away. The motivation behind his there-but-not-quite-there presence pricked her curiosity. Was this admittedly far older and sophisticated Master vampire actually feeling awkward about what had happened between them?

“Take the egg out,” Gorgon prompted her.

Kira put three fingers around that cool oval shape, pressing as softly as she could to lift it. The egg trembled but didn’t explode. Think of Tina, she urged herself. This wasn’t an egg; it was her little sister’s hand, and she was going to clasp it without hurting her when she saw her again . . .

The egg cleared the container in one piece. Gorgon whooped. Kira almost jumped in excitement, but smashing through the floor would ruin the moment. She looked up, the egg cradled in her hand, to see Mencheres watching her. He had a pleased expression on his face that quickly turned impassive once her eyes met his.

Still playing Mr. Cool, hmm? she mused, returning her attention to the egg crate. “I’m going to try for another one,” she told Gorgon.

He grinned. “Go for it.”

As she reached for another egg with her free hand, her thoughts returned to Mencheres. After his confession in the forest, Kira mulled over whether he was really as despicable as he’d made himself out to be. After all, she was the last person to think, “Oooh, sexy !” when a man admitted to being a controlling, ruthless bastard. She’d been through that kind of relationship before, so she knew there was nothing romantic or sexy about it. But though Mencheres had painted an ugly picture of himself, on reflection, his actions were in contrast to his words.

When he’d kept her with him that first week they met, he’d gone out of his way to give her as much freedom as possible. Then he’d let her go despite the risk to the secrecy of his race, plus given Kira the means to treat her sister’s disease so Tina would have an average life span. Then when Flare had her, Mencheres had come for her and healed her without the slightest hesitation.

Faced with that ultimatum from Radje, Mencheres did the only thing he could for her: He’d brought her back from death. Since she’d first woken up on that plane, he hadn’t placed one condition or limitation on her that wasn’t solely to prevent her from killing innocent people. She had complete freedom to do anything she wanted, including call anyone, check her e-mail, or even shop online so she could have something other than borrowed clothes to wear. And Mencheres had repeatedly stated that once she was in control of her hunger and her new strength, she was free to go. Again.

“Almost there,” Gorgon said encouragingly, as Kira began to pull out another egg. A slight crack appeared on its white surface. She pursed her lips but kept going. After another couple seconds, the egg lay in her hand, a tiny zigzag crack marring its smooth surface but its contents still safely contained.

“Put ’em back without smashing them, and I think you’ve got it,” Gorgon said, winking at her.

Kira split her attention between returning those eggs to their container and on everything Mencheres didn’t say or do. She’d felt his need the other night, but though she’d practically demanded he have sex with her, he’d refused on the grounds that she might be under the influence of her new senses. Then he’d told her terrible things about himself almost as if he wanted her to reprimand him. Mencheres didn’t act like someone who had little regard for others. He had extraordinary power, but he didn’t flaunt it. In fact, she’d only seen him use them when it benefited other people. If she were him, she’d use those powers all the time. Like teleporting her blood or water to her while sitting on her butt relaxing—and God help everyone if Kira ever had the ability to move objects when someone cut her off in traffic.

No, there was far more to Mencheres than the way he’d so harshly described himself. Despite his admonition for her to forget him once she regained control of her new condition, she had no intention of doing that.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kira watched Mencheres walk into the next room with his usual gliding stride, his posture straight and regal, his ass filling the back of his pants with a sexiness that was sinful.

No, he wasn’t scaring her away that easily. She would wear down that shell he’d erected around himself when it came to her. And then she’d see if the connection between them, the same one Mencheres seemed to be trying so hard to avoid, was as strong as she suspected.

Kira got the eggs back in their cardboard cradle, smiling at her accomplishment and already planning her next move.

Game on.

M encheres heard the door to his bedroom open, but he didn’t open his eyes. The hot water in the bathtub was soothing. He was loath to break the temporary peace of soaking beneath it for something as trivial as Gorgon dropping off his laundry. Even though he’d told his friend that he could see to his own menial tasks, Gorgon insisted doing them himself.

And in truth, it might take Mencheres a few minutes to figure out how to operate a modern washing machine. He usually had a large vampire and human staff in every house he stayed at, so others had handled such tasks for him. Perhaps Gorgon thought his efforts now would be in lieu of needing to replace Mencheres’s entire wardrobe later.

But then a tapping noise snapped his eyes open. He looked through the veil of bathwater to see Kira framed in the doorway, her slim fingers drumming on the frame.

His head cleared the water in the next instant, alarm ringing through him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, coming into the bathroom to lean against the countertop. “Gorgon left to take a walk—which I assume means find his dinner—and I was feeling a little lonely.”

Her green eyes were clear and guileless, but Mencheres rather doubted the veracity of her statement. Never before had Kira even entered his bedroom, let alone surprised him while he was in his bath. She had a method to her actions. What method, he did not know. Yet.

“Lonely?” he repeated, raising a brow.

She shrugged. “Everyone I know is sleeping at this hour, and there’s only so much TV a person can watch before it drives you insane. Since I’m just barely getting a handle on my hunger and my strength, I thought it was a good idea to talk to you instead of stressing myself just pacing the floors until Gorgon got back. Was I wrong?”

That guileless gaze again, but with a hint of challenge this time. Mencheres felt his mouth twitch. She was daring him to tell her to leave with the implication that it would set back her admirable progress. He was curious to see where she intended to take this.

“Please. Do stay.”

He settled himself back against the edge of the large tub, lacing his fingers behind his head. Kira’s gaze lingered over his chest before it flicked lower to the bathwater, paused, and then a slight grin broke out across her face.

“Bubbles. On a scale of one to ten, a bubble bath has to rank a zero as far as things I’d expect an older-than-dirt, bad-ass vampire to indulge in. The only thing that would surprise me more was if you pulled out a rubber ducky.”

He fought another, stronger twitch of his lips. “Bath toys are reserved only for the oldest, most lethal vampires. I have a full century to age and another thousand men to kill before I reach that hallowed landmark.”

Kira laughed, a feminine, throaty sound that made things tighten in him, reminding Mencheres of why he’d tried not to linger long in her presence the past few days. A harsh tingling began in his groin, the silent demand from his body urging him to send his blood there. He ignored that, glad he had control over such things instead of his loins doing as they pleased.

“So how am I doing?” Kira asked, propping herself up to sit on his countertop. It creaked at the first touch of her hands, but she hadn’t exerted enough force for it to break. Again, admirable progress.

He closed his eyes. Perhaps it would be easier to continue ignoring the urges of his body if he didn’t keep looking at her. It was torment enough to have her scent filling the room, teasing him with her nearness.

“You are progressing very well. In another few days, we will show you how to feed from humans. When you’re able to do that without assistance, you will have no need to remain here.”

“I don’t want to feed from humans,” she said at once, that previous lightness fading from her voice. “I’ll stick to the bagged blood. Heated up and in a mug, I can pretend it’s really thick coffee. Biting into someone’s skin . . . no, I don’t want to do that.”

Mencheres didn’t open his eyes. “You must, even if it’s not your preferred method of feeding. If hunger strikes when you’re in a place where bagged blood is unavailable, better to know how to feed without injuring a human than to accidentally maim or kill one out of your own inexperience.”

He could almost hear her chewing on her lip. “You have a point,” she said at last.

Mencheres didn’t bother to inform Kira that once she’d tasted blood straight from the vein, it was doubtful she’d return to her bagged alternative. There was no comparison in taste between fresh blood and bags of plasma. Even the energy derived from fresh blood was more potent than the substitute.

“That crooked cop Radje, what does he have against you?” Kira asked, the change of subject surprising him enough to open his eyes.

He almost sighed. Even if he could sum up several thousands of years’ worth of antagonism between him and Radjedef into a short explanation, he didn’t want to. However, since their bitter feud had resulted in Kira losing her mortality, it wasn’t fair to refuse to answer.

“Radje came from a line of rulers where each heir was allotted a certain number of years to reign over their human subjects. At the beginning of each reign, the heir was turned into a vampire, granting the chance for immortality, but also ensuring that the heir could have no living children. Consorts were provided for the heir’s wife, and of the children they bore, one was chosen as the new heir. This system was honored for many generations, until Radje. He was bitter after giving up his allotted time to reign. When his successor mysteriously died before the end of his reign, the responsibility of choosing a new heir fell to Radje. He delayed naming another and sought to retake power instead. An heir was chosen despite Radje’s objections, but then he refused to relinquish control, citing concerns over the new heir’s ability to rule. When attempts were made on that heir’s life, Radje’s sire interceded and forcibly removed him from the kingdom. Later, a gift of power originally intended for Radje was given by his sire to the new heir instead. Radje’s hatred has burned ever since.”

Kira stared at him, her face reflecting sympathy, understanding, and a touch of anger. “You were the other heir, the one he tried to kill.”

Mencheres inclined his head. “Yes.”

That green gaze didn’t waver. “And what was the gift you got instead of Radje?”

“It would vary depending on the individual, but what I received was additional strength, the ability to read human minds, visions of the future, and the power to locate and control people or objects with merely a thought.”

She let out something like a laugh. “Oh, those trivial things. It’s his own fault, but since he’s too ruthless to admit that, no wonder Radje hates you. World wars have been fought over lesser jealousies.”

Yes, and if he told Kira how many of the wars fought between humans over the centuries had stemmed from feuds spilling out between other Master vampires, she’d be amazed.

“So, before you became a vampire, you were some sort of chieftain?”

Mencheres gave her a slight smile. “Something like that.”

“No wonder you’re used to doing other people’s thinking for them,” she murmured. “Just like politicians today.”

He stifled his laugh at the wryness in her tone. “ ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely,’ ” he quoted.

She jumped off the counter, wincing as the floor creaked when her feet landed, but looking relieved when the tile remained unbroken beneath her.

“And Radje took his bitterness and became the vampire version of a cop instead. Seems like an odd choice.”

Mencheres lifted one of his raised shoulders in a half shrug. “Law Guardians are in the position of highest rule among vampires. Radje was denied one form of power, so he assumed another.”

Kira looked thoughtful. “I wanted to be a cop. It didn’t work out.”

He was intrigued. She had proven herself to be a very determined woman. What had been enough to deter her from this goal?

“What happened?”

She gave him a look. “If you want me to tell you, then I’m soaking my feet in your tub. I’ll need something to relax me for this trip down memory lane.”

Now he was truly intrigued. Mencheres inclined his head at the side of the tub. Kira took her shoes off before carefully seating herself on the flat ledge. He moved his legs to allow her more room, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d deliberately chosen a large tub so it would encompass his entire body when he rested underwater.

Kira let out a noise of enjoyment as her feet, then her calves, disappeared into the water. Mencheres kept his gaze on her face, not on the lovely thighs that were all too bare and close given the way she’d slid up the edge of her dress to well above her knees.

“I told you I get feelings about things. When I was seventeen, I had a feeling about my friend’s older brother, and that feeling was danger. On the surface, there was no reason for it. Pete was athletic, popular, he came from a whole family of cops, and he’d just become a cop himself shortly after graduating high school. I think the only reason Pete noticed me was because I avoided him whenever I hung out with his sister.”

Mencheres couldn’t contain a mild snort. “Of course, it had nothing to do with your intelligence or beauty.”

She gave him a slanted look. “Pete had lots of girls after him just as smart and pretty. But he started putting the charm on me, and I ignored that warning feeling about him because I hadn’t learned to trust my instincts yet. We began dating. Things were good at first, but then Pete’s jealousy started worrying me. He hated it when I spent time with my friends. Couldn’t stand any other guy even looking at me. Right before graduation, I broke up with Pete. He was starting to scare me.”

In the bedroom, Mencheres’s mobile phone began to ring. She glanced over. “Do you need to get that?”

“It can wait.”

He thought of the manila folder he’d given Bones. It contained all of Kira’s information—details Gorgon had gathered that Mencheres refused to look at with the notion that the less he knew about Kira, the simpler it would be to purge her from his thoughts. Now he would let nothing, not even the ring tone indicating that it was Bones calling him, interrupt him from hearing about this part of Kira’s past.

“My mom contracted bacterial meningitis a little after we broke up. Before Tina and I knew it, she was just gone . We were devastated. Pete stepped up and helped with the funeral, took care of things—he was amazing. He apologized for everything before, said he’d realized his mistakes and even wanted to marry me. I wasn’t sure, but . . . the Department of Children and Families was sniffing around Tina. She was just sixteen, my dad wasn’t her dad, and her real father didn’t want her. If I married Pete, Tina would have what they considered a ‘stable home environment,’ and she wouldn’t go into foster care. So even though I’d just turned nineteen and I still had doubts, I married him.”

She paused to give Mencheres a dry smile. “As you can imagine, Pete had not miraculously changed. His possessiveness grew worse. Soon I had no friends, college was put off, and the only family I saw was Tina because she lived with us. I was miserable, but I decided to wait it out until Tina turned eighteen before I left him. I think Pete suspected what I intended. His fits of anger got worse, and he started beating me.”

Mencheres said nothing, but in his mind, he was already ordering Gorgon to duplicate the information he’d gathered about Kira so he could find this Pete and kill him. Yes, he knew the sort. No, they never changed.

“I tried to hide the bruises from Tina because she was already dealing with enough hell from her disease. Then one day, when I was cleaning in the attic, I found a few bags of white powder and a pile of money stuffed in a box. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Pete was doing. I called his partner, hoping he’d step in, but that was a mistake. Pete denied it, said I was crazy, his partner buried the information, and Pete beat me unconscious. Threatened to kill me if I ever breathed a word about the money or drugs to anyone again. Strange people started showing up at the house at all hours after that. I knew Pete was dealing or worse, and it scared the hell out of me because of Tina. I had to try and get help again, no matter what he’d threatened me with. There was an old cop, Mack Davis, who I’d met at my wedding. Pete said he was with Internal Affairs. So I went to see him.”

Her voice changed from the flat, emotionless tone she’d used in her retelling to something softer and richer. That alone told Mencheres that Mack Davis had not failed her.

“Mack believed me. Set up a sting on his own to catch Pete because he knew that with the long line of cops in Pete’s family, someone would probably tip Pete off if Mack went through normal channels. Inside of a month, Mack had all the proof he needed from video, recordings, and things I gave him to go straight to the DA. Pete and a couple other officers involved were arrested for running drugs. I was one of the star witnesses at Pete’s trial. The judge locked him up for thirty years, but Pete was killed in prison within a year of his incarceration.”

Kira paused to look straight into Mencheres’s eyes. “I knew how former cops were treated by inmates when I testified against him. I even knew, deep down when I first went to see Mack, that it would result in Pete’s death. But though a part of me still loved him, I did it anyway. Pete’s family calls me a murderer, but I didn’t kill him. He chose his actions, and that sealed his fate. I regret his death, but I don’t regret saving myself and my sister.”

She glanced away then with a self-deprecating shrug. “After I saw how one good cop like Mack could reverse the damage so many bad ones had caused, I went to college, got a degree in criminal justice, and went through police academy. Aced it, too, but despite getting my certification in law enforcement, no police agency would hire me. Some of Pete and the other cops’ friends blackballed me. So instead of being a police officer, Mack got me a job to train as a private investigator. It’s not much beyond chasing cheating spouses and a ton of paperwork now, but it has potential later for making a difference in people’s lives. Mack died a year ago. His credo was to save one life, every chance he got. He ended up saving a hell of a lot more than one, and now it’s my goal to do the same.”

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