Intertwined

“Yes.”

If Victoria came over—where was she? What was she doing? — he wanted to be ready. Well, as ready as a guy in his condition could be.

“The window…girl…”

“Say no more. I’ll leave it unlocked.”

A moan escaped him as the ache in his head mutated into a sharp throb, pounding against every inch of his skull like a battering ram, determined to split it open. He almost hoped it did. Then the pain could escape. Pain so intense even his companions felt it, moaning along with him.

Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, multihued pinpricks of light suddenly flared— behind his eyes. A scene began to take shape: a darkened alleyway, softly lit by the streetlights beyond it. Every so often a car would pass the alley, but hidden as he was, he was safe from observation. He was glad. His keen sense of smell let him know that no one besides him and his meal were present, no one could watch what he was about to do, and that was good, he thought, very good. Only, it wasn’t his thought. It didn’t spring from his mind. It was a little desperate, a lot hungry. Even shamed.

He was standing behind a man, a man who appeared to be of average height, and yet Aden was at eye level instead of towering over him. He had one pale, dainty hand on the guy’s head, angling it to the side, the other on the guy’s shoulder, holding him steady.

Pale? Dainty? Those were not his hands, yet they were extensions of his body. He glanced down. Nope. Not his body, either. This one wore a black robe and had sweet curves.

Victoria, he realized. He must be living this scene through Victoria’s eyes. Was it happening now? Or had it happened earlier? Was it a memory?

“You are a naughty boy,” Aden said, but it wasn’t his voice. It was Victoria’s. Never had he heard such a cold, unrelenting tone. He could feel her fury, could still taste her consuming hunger, yet she gave neither away.

Have to stay strong, she was thinking. Have to protect Aden, Riley and Mary Ann. My friends. My only friends. Oh, God. When Aden learns about Dmitri…don’t think about that right now. Eat.

Aden experienced a jolt. Dmitri, the boy who had come to Aden’s window, who had watched him with Victoria, who had scared Victoria enough to send her fleeing. His hands fisted the cotton beneath him.

“You hit your wife and your son, and you think yourself so superior,” she sneered. “When the truth is you’re really just a sniveling coward who deserves to die in this urine-scented alley.”

The man trembled. She’d already commanded his lips to remain sealed, his voice box to cease working, so he couldn’t talk, couldn’t even whimper.

“But I won’t kill you. That would be too easy. Now you’ll get to live with the knowledge that you were bested by a little girl.” She laughed cruelly. “A little girl who will hunt you down if ever you touch your wife and child in anger again. And if you think I will not know, think again. I saw what you did to them only this morning, didn’t I?”

The man’s trembling increased.

Having made her point, Victoria savagely bit into his neck. There was nothing slow and gentle about it, as she’d done to Aden. She dug her fangs deep, hitting tendon. The man’s body jerked, his muscles spasmed. She was careful not to allow any of her saliva to seep into his vein, which would have made the experience better for him. It would have drugged him, as Aden had felt drugged.

The metallic smell of blood saturated the air, and Aden breathed it in deeply, exactly as Victoria was doing. She loved it, her hunger luxuriating in it, and he found that through her senses, he loved it too. His mouth was watering, his throat swelling with need.

Why can’t I change their natures? Why can I only play with their memories? What good do I do? On and on she drank, until the man’s legs buckled. That’s when the direction of her thoughts changed. Thank God Aden isn’t here. I’m an animal, an animal with blood all over her face.

Her teeth pulled free, and she released him. He fell to the pavement, his head knocking against the Dumpster in front of him.

Victoria bent and cupped his chin in her hands. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, choppy. Blood dripped from two puncture wounds in his neck.

“You will not remember me or what I did and said to you. You will remember only the fear you felt at my words.” And maybe, just maybe, that fear would actually spur him to change his ways. Maybe not. Either way, she’d done all she could. Except kill him, and that she was forbidden to do.

One did not go against her father’s laws. The first time she’d accidentally killed, she’d been warned. The next and final time—for she’d learned her lesson well—she’d been flogged with a whip laced with je la nune, the substance in her ring.

She opened that ring now, dipped a finger inside and pressed her nail against her fingertip. Instantly her skin sizzled open, creating a pinprick wound. The burn…it rushed through every part of her, blistering, leaving her gasping and out of breath.

Aden cried out, feeling it himself.

Twice she’d done that for him, first to show him that she could and then to feed him her blood, yet she’d never betrayed the brutality of her pain. Because she hadn’t wanted him to feel guilty, he realized. Not when she already felt so undeserving of him.

He shook his head in wonder.

Not wanting to put her mouth on the man again and lick him to health, she placed a drop of her blood on each of the punctures. Flesh began to weave back together, pink and healthy as it closed the wounds, leaving no trace of injury. She stood, hunger assuaged, body strong—fury renewed. She hated relying on the depraved for her survival, but preferred them to the innocent and purposely sought them out.

Never again, Aden thought. He would make himself and his blood readily available to her. She would drink from no one but him. He would hide the wounds so that no one saw them or she would heal them. But either way, she wasn’t hurting herself like that again.

“Better?” a deep voice asked from behind her.

Slowly she spun. Her gaze lifted and Dmitri came into view. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his massive chest. At least six-foot-four, he towered over Victoria. Blond hair was smoothed back from his perfect face. His pale skin seemed to glow. But Aden knew all that beauty hid a monster.

She wiped her face with the back of her wrist and nodded. “You need to return to the house,” she said, giving the falling moon a pointed glance. “You have a long run and morning is fast approaching.”

Lips cocked in a fond smile, he straightened and closed the distance between them. He reached out and wiped a smear of blood from her chin. She turned her head, dislodging his touch, and his smile flipped into a frown. “From now on, you’re supposed to go where I go. That means you return home with me.”

Control your anger. Do not challenge him. She smiled sweetly. “Every time you force my hand, I only hate you more.”

His eyes narrowed. “Resisting me is pointless, princess.”

“Actually, it’s not. Anything that keeps you away from me serves a very important purpose.”

A red glow seeped into the darkness of his eyes. “This is about the boy, isn’t it?”

She raised her chin to hide her tremor of fear. “This is about you and the fact that I want nothing to do with you.”

Faster than the eye—even her eye—could see, he leaned down, placing them nose to nose. “I am everything you need. Strong, capable.”

“You are just like my father,” she countered, refusing to back down. “You see others’ spirit as an insult to your prowess. You rule with an iron fist, you punish indiscriminately.”

He waved a dismissing hand. “Without order, there would be chaos.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Is that what the boy offers you? Chaos? I am not as stupid as you must think. I know you want him.” He wrapped his hands around her forearms and shook her. “You will not be returning to that mortal school, princess. I forbid it.”

Control, control, control. “That is not for you to decide.”