Twisted

mystic from long ago, yet coldly alive, and now as spicy as the human girl had been.

I will not let jealousy overtake me.

Victoria opened her eyes, unsure when she’d closed them. Aden was leaning down, spotlighted by rogue rays of light that had escaped their cloudy prison. His expression was as impassive as before. Dark hair fell over his eyes—eyes of startling violet.

Since she’d known him, she’d seen him with eyes of gold, green, brown, blue and black, but the violet had not appeared until their time in the cave.

When he reached out, she thought he meant to help her up. She offered him a small, waxen smile. “Thank you.”

“I would not thank me, if I were you.” He latched onto her shoulder, and sharp pain lashed through her.

“What do you—”

He forced the bone to pop back into place, and she discovered what true pain really was. A scream ripped from deep inside her. Birds took flight, probably desperate to escape the horrendous, ear-piercing sound.

“You’re welcome,” he said, straightening.

She would take that to mean I’m really truly very sorry I hurt you, my love. “Next time—”

“There won’t be a next time. You won’t be jumping from the railing again. Promise me.”

“No, I—”

“Promise me,” he insisted.

“Stop cutting me off.”

“All right.”

When he offered nothing else, exasperating her, she rasped, “Why did you jump? You could have walked through the house to reach the bottom.” And saved her a panic attack and dislocated shoulder.

“This way was faster.” He pivoted on his heel and marched away. Again.

“Wait.”

He didn’t wait.

Cursing under her breath, Victoria gathered enough strength to stand. Her knees trembled and nearly buckled, but she somehow found the will to remain upright. She trailed after Aden, feeling like a puppy on a leash. A bad puppy who didn’t want to go on a walk and had to be dragged.

Aden never once glanced back to make sure she was okay or even to ascertain that she was there. He just didn’t care, and that hurt worse than her shoulder, cutting at her insides, making her cringe. To him, she either followed or she didn’t, and neither choice evoked emotion.

“Why do you want to talk to everyone?” she asked.

“A few things need to be straightened out.” He strode to the front of the house, up the porch steps and stopped at the towering, arched front doors. Few vampires were out and about at this time of day, even with the hazy milieu, but those who traipsed the grounds blinked in shock when they spotted him, then quickly bowed to show their respect.

A minute ticked by.

More minutes ticked by.

“Um, Aden. You have to walk through a door to enter a house. Standing here won’t do anything.”

“I will. First, I’m surveying what’s mine.”

Once again, he sounded like her father—or Dmitri, her former betrothed—and she chewed at the inside of her cheek in disgust. She hadn’t been fond of either man. Please, please let Aden return to his normal self when the pills wear off.

What would she do if he didn’t?

She wouldn’t think about that right now. She would just get through the day, help Aden conduct his meeting, for whatever reason, guarding him all the while, and then, later, if necessary, she would worry.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked, recalling the first time she’d brought him here. He’d taken one look at the Queen Anne–style mansion—the asymmetrical towers, the gothic stones and glasswork, the narrow windows with their prominent eave brackets sharpened to deadly points and the steeply pitched roofs, all painted a grim black—and grimaced.

“Yes.”

One-word answers were annoying, she decided.

Finally he pushed the double doors open and entered. His gaze swept the spacious foyer, taking in the black walls, the crimson carpet, the antique furniture polished to a perfect shine, and he frowned.

“I know the layout of this place. There are thirty bedrooms, most of them upstairs. There are twenty ornate fireplaces, several rooms with parquet floors, several with red sandstone, a great hall, a throne room and two dining rooms. But I’ve never seen more than this room, your bedroom and the backyard. How is that possible?”

Excellent question. “Maybe…maybe when we exchanged memories all those times, some of mine stuck.”

“Maybe.” He flicked her a blank glance. “Do you recall anything about me?”

Oh, yes. Mostly she remembered the beatings he’d received in a few of the mental institutions he’d lived in —she wished to punish those responsible. She also remembered the isolation he’d endured in several of the foster homes he’d stayed in, the parents afraid of him but willing to take on his “care” for the paycheck that came with him. Not to mention the rejection he’d suffered time after time from peers who considered him too different to deal with. Too weird.

That was why she couldn’t walk away from him now. No matter how distant or unlike himself he was, she wouldn’t reject him.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Yes, I do.” She didn’t tell him what, though. “Do you recall anything specific about me? Besides this home?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A memory could have sparked compassion. Compassion could have sparked a thousand other emotions, one of them reminding him of just how much he freaking loved her. Or maybe this was for the best. There were some things a girl didn’t want her boyfriend to know about her.

“Wait,” he said, blinking. “I do remember something.”

Hope and dread battled for supremacy. “Yes?”

“When you first came to Crossroads, summoned here because of the supernatural blast Mary Ann and I inadvertently created, you spotted me from a distance and thought, I should kill him.” Ouch. See? That was one of those things. “First, I told you about that. Second, taken out of context, the thought seems worse than it was.”

“You mean a desire to kill me is a good thing when in context?”

Her teeth gnashed. “No, but you’re forgetting how strange your pull was to us. We didn’t know why you’d summoned us here, what you had planned for us, or if you were helping our enemy. We—”

“Enemies.”

“What?”

“You don’t have one, you have many. In fact, the only race you aren’t at war with is the wolves, and they’d be fighting you, too, if they weren’t so loyal by nature.”

Well, well. An emotion from him. Only, it wasn’t one she’d wanted. He was disappointed. She didn’t understand why. “You have no idea the things that have taken place between the races throughout the centuries. How could you? You’ve been living in your little humanity bubble, unaware of the creatures that stalk the night.”

“And yet I know alliances can be formed.”

“With who? The witches? They know we crave their blood and can’t control our hunger in their presence. They would laugh in your face if you offered a truce. So who does that leave? The fairies? We feed off the humans they consider their children. They would wipe us out if they could. Don’t forget the fairy prince you helped kill, and the fairy princess who then tried to kill you. What about the goblins? They are mindless beings, caring only about their next meal, which just so happens to be living flesh. Our flesh. Shall I go on?”