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She looked annoyed, but her shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh. “If you’re insistin’ on gettin’ yourself killed by whoever this old ass vampire is that’s beheading the order, I reckon that’s your business, ‘innit?”
“It is,” I said.
“There’s a rumor about some idiots in the city trying to round up resistance. I heard they operate out of a place called Bloody Harry’s.”
“Does this group have a name? The ones trying to oppose The Pact?”
“They’re calling themselves Shadow Force.”
Vlad spurted with laughter. “Shadow Force? Do they wear tight little brightly colored suits and helmets? Do sparks fly out when they punch things?”
Jewel crossed her arms beneath her considerable bosom, clearly unamused. “You wouldn’t be laughin’ if you knew the things they done.”
Vlad grinned. “Nope. Pretty sure I’d still be laughing. What a horrible name. Shadow Force,” he said, muttering to himself then barking with more laughter.
“The name is quite silly,” I admitted.
“I’ll make sure to pass your complaints on to the ancient, deadly vampires that are gonna want you dead come tomorrow.”
I motioned for Vlad to follow me, but he bulged his eyes and shook his head, then tipped his chin toward Jewel.
I needed to get back to Cara before I could check out the place Jewel mentioned, but at least I had a lead for the first time in weeks. Whoever these vampires resisting “Shadow Force” were, I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to be anything close to the organized strength The Order I’d known had.
Worse, if there was an ancient vampire out there with an agenda and a terrible ability to name organizations, Cara was in more danger than I’d thought.
I could lay low and wait until the bond was completely gone to make a move, which would avoid the risk of drawing any more dangerous attention on Cara than I already had. But doing that would mean letting my enemies continue to gather strength. If their end goal was the enslavement of the entire human race, I couldn’t exactly pretend I was protecting Cara by waiting to act. Could I?
28
Lucian
I opened my eyes on Cara’s floor, noting that sickening yellow sunlight was seeping through her window. I could already feel the now-familiar fatigue it brought. I got up, rolled my neck more out of habit than necessity. Sometimes, I irrationally wanted to wake up feeling stiff and in need of stretching like I had when I was a human.
But the body of a vampire didn’t experience discomfort like a human’s. I could lay on stone and feel no urge to shift around my position or roll to my side. I could sit for hours in the same spot and be completely at ease. I only grew truly hungry for blood every four to five days, and I didn’t get cold or hot.
My recent over-exposure to the sun had brought back some hints of those old annoyances, but it was still nothing but a dull reminder.
I was nearly a void of physical sensation, except all the carnal senses seemed amplified.
It only made my constant lust for Cara harder to ignore. She was the single pulse of light in a dark room. The flickering temptation to step closer, to explore more. She was the thing I wanted to reach out and put my fingertips to so I could remember what warmth felt like.
I’d already let myself slip too many times with her. In the kitchen and then in the empty classroom. Both moments were on constant repeat in my mind, driving me ever more mad with the hunger for more. She was more than a physical craving, though.
Cara’s innocent curiosity was refreshing. She didn’t treat me like some immortal, terrifying being. She acted like I was any other man, at least as much as that was possible in our situation. She made me feel normal for the first time in ages.
And now the bond was fading. I should’ve felt immense relief to be free of her. After all, she was a glaring weakness all my enemies would love to exploit if they got the opportunity. The sooner we were out of each other’s lives, the better it should’ve been for both of us.
Except I worried I’d reached a point where I would’ve traded my own safety just for another day with her. I’d grown irrational. Sentimental. Weak.
Cara sat upright, stretching her arms overhead in a way that pressed her thin, pale pink t-shirt against her breasts. I told myself not to look, but I saw the hardened points of her nipples pressing through the fabric.
It was all I could do not to go to her then. To throw the blankets off her bed and push her shirt up to her neck, taking her nipple between my teeth and letting out all the suppressed need I’d barely been bottling.
