his arm completely around me and holding me to his body. He pulled back, just enough so that I could see his face without it being blurry.
Serious, cerulean eyes bore into mine. “I love you, Riley Poe.” He brushed a thumb over my lips. “Don’t forget that.” He kissed me, slowly, erotically, then looked at me again. “Ever.”
I opened my mouth to tell Eli how I felt, but his fingers over my lips stopped me.
“No, Riley,” he said gently. “Another time. When you’re really ready.”
Before I could respond, he pulled me against him again; resting his chin on top of my head. “Go to sleep, mostly mortal woman. We have a busy few days ahead of us.”
Prick , I said in my head.
Eli laughed, squeezing me a little tighter, and I closed my eyes, smiling.
Finally, I fought the exhaustion no more. I was content. I mean, how could I not be? Eli was naked. I was naked. We’d just had mind-blowing, soul-searching sex. The only thing better right now would be . . . I don’t know. Some corn dogs, maybe. Or a bag from Krystal.
“God, you’ve become such a hog,” Eli said, shaking with laughter. “Go to sleep, girl. I’ll get you food after you’ve rested.”
I laughed. “Okay.” I snuggled against him. His body temperature was perfect—not too warm, and definitely not too cool.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Sleep.”
Just before sleep claimed me, I felt relief that the monster hadn’t killed again; it was nearly daybreak, anyway.
How very wrong I was.
I experienced two kills, back-to-back. It was almost too much for me to handle.
I’d just felt that wave of exhaustion and contentedness wash over me.
I found myself walking along the city market. In the harbor, a tugboat blasted its horn, but I paid little attention and continued up the walk. Most of the stores hadn’t opened yet, but in the French Quarter a little café opened its doors to early risers; they weren’t about yet, but I slipped along the wall, to the back entrance of François Patisserie. Silently, I eased inside. The scent of freshbaked bread and pastries filled the café, but that wasn’t what made my stomach ache with need. In the back, near the double ovens and beside a long stainless steel counter, stood a plump, middle-aged woman, pulling a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. She had no idea I was in the kitchen with her. Rising on pudgy tiptoes, she reached for the top shelf over the sink, grasped a plate, then slid a hot croissant onto it. She smiled, moved to the counter, and removed the lid from a ceramic butter tray. With a knife she buttered her already-buttery croissant and took a big bite. She groaned with pleasure.
A feeling of impatience came over me, and I knew it was his feeling, not mine. I did the usual —scream, holler, but nothing came out, nothing worked, and I could not warn the plump baker that her death was coming.
No sooner had the baker woman swallowed her bite of croissant than I moved directly behind her. She must have sensed a presence, for slowly, she turned.
Her scream died in her throat.
The monster wasted no time. He lunged, held his hand over the woman’s mouth, and ripped right through her white cotton blouse. He sank his fangs into the flesh of her chest before finding the pulse of her heart. As he pierced the pumping organ, her warm blood gushed into his mouth and slid down his throat; fast at first, then slower, slower until her life force was no more. He dropped her on the floor, wiped his mouth with a rag left on the counter, and left.
The moment he stepped outside and noticed the jogger heading toward the river, I knew he’d kill again. I don’t know how, but I did. I thrashed, bile rising in my throat at the memory of the poor woman in the bakery, her blouse doused with blood, her dead face contorted in shock and terror.
Thankfully, the next kill was swift. The shirtless man jogging along the river was young, extremely fit, his chest cut with muscle, a six-pack to die for. He wore a Gamecocks ball cap as he ran, his iPod jamming in his ears. The moment he turned off the river and down an alley to cut through to another street, the monster was there. He stepped out, bumping into the man. The jogger stumbled, his blue eyes shocked to see someone else along his path. The monster waited for nothing. He changed; I knew this because of the horror on the jogger’s face. The monster ripped into him just as he’d ripped into the baker woman, nearly snatching the man’s heart out with his fangs. But the moment the hot metallic fluid pumped into him, he relaxed; he drank fully, and, when he was finished, he threw the jogger against the brick wall and walked away.
The last thing I remember before waking and separating from the monster, was his laugh.
It was oddly familiar. . . .
I bolted up in bed, my surroundings unfamiliar for a split second. Only then did I notice Eli was gone. I looked around, noticing how dim it still was outside. Eli must have slipped out the moment I’d drifted off. The exhaustion I felt was too real, too thick, and no way could I get out of bed right now. I must have closed my eyes at the exact moment the monster decided to feed; unless he knew me and was torturing me on purpose. If Eli was right, and Valerian, despite how Eli and his brothers had destroyed him, had manifested himself into one of his newlings, then he was the monster. He did know me. And I was pretty fucking sure he wanted to torment me to the fullest. He was succeeding.
There was nothing else I could do; no one I could save. I needed sleep. As selfish as it sounds, I lay back down, pulled the sheet up to my chest, and closed my eyes, allowing slumber to take me. Hopefully, Eli would return and pull me into his arms. I slept so much better with him wrapped around me. My eyes grew heavy; Sleep claimed me again.
I slept for some time; I don’t know how long.
When I woke, I emerged in yet another dream state. I was sitting in the dark. A dark room, a closet; I was on the floor, my back against . . . something. I felt a presence, though; someone was with me. Immediately, I knew who.
“Where have you been?” I asked angrily.
Victorian’s low, sexy soft laugh filled the dark empty space. “Why? Have you missed me?”
I thought about it. “Yes. And no.”
“Please, tell me why yes first.”
“I have no freaking idea, other than you’re my connection to why I behave and feel the way I do, since it’s your DNA clinging to mine. Yours and Valerian’s. And I sort of like you. When you’re not being so pervy. And I’m glad Eli didn’t kill you.” His soft sigh filled the shadowy space we occupied together. “And that pleases you?”
“Well, I don’t exactly want you dead,” I said. “Not sure why, but somehow . . . it doesn’t seem right.”
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose.”
“If you want,” I said. “But believe me, I’m the only one who feels that way.”
“No doubt. And why not?” he continued.
His presence seemed closer; I can’t explain it, since we were in total darkness, but I felt as though his body was very close to mine. I shrugged, even though we were in total blackness. “Because it seems whenever I experience a terrible vision of the monster making a kill, it’s not long after that you appear. That concerns me.”
I felt the brush of his whisper against the column of my neck when he spoke. “Do you still think he and I are one and the same?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I’ve seen his skin, his arms—they’re not yours. But they’re Valerian’s, aren’t they? Manifested in another newling he created?”
“That you’ve paid such close attention to my physical detail makes me happy,” Victorian said, and that warm breath brushed my cheek. “Very happy. And to agree, yes. I fear your monster is my brother. He’s even more powerful than I ever was.”
“Well, hold on there, Tonto,” I said. “Don’t get too wound up. It’s kinda noticeable that you have
