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The one thing Ethan felt sure of was that Marcus hadn’t been one of the people in his apartment that horrible night. He would have remembered Marcus’s voice. The voices of the two men and the woman were permanently etched into his brain like grooves on a record.
So…if Marcus was a vampire, he wasn’t one of the killers on his list that needed to be exterminated.
But if Marcus was a vampire, didn’t that mean he needed to be exterminated anyway? Hadn’t he killed other humans to feed his need for blood? Didn’t those murdered people deserve justice too?
Except for the fact that Marcus didn’t strike him as a bloodthirsty killer.
Marcus had been quiet and reserved during their tour of his house. Ethan had watched him closely as they walked, noticing the way he would touch little artifacts around the house—a book here and a little porcelain figure there—as if they were precious to him. He would steal quick glances at Ethan when he thought Ethan wasn’t paying attention. When he did, his expression would soften, and there was only what looked to be curiosity in his gaze and maybe confusion, but never hunger or malice.
He seemed to be an awkward rich guy who might also be a little lonely.
Not that Ethan thought he was necessarily harmless. The guy was clearly powerful on a physical level. Tall with broad shoulders and a thick chest. He could probably bench-press a car without being a vampire. His suit did nothing to hide his strength.
And then of course he had those piercing blue eyes and longish black hair. Today it had been tamed. Neatly combed back and styled, but Ethan had to wonder if maybe as the day wore on and Marcus ran his fingers through his hair those locks grew wilder.
Ethan could imagine climbing into his lap and shoving the fingers of both hands through those thick waves, plunging into the softness only to hold his head captive as he leaned down—
A low groan escaped him, and he didn’t give a shit if Marcus could hear him. Why did he have to be so hot with those beautiful eyes, chiseled jaw, and perfect cock-sucking lips?
Leaning down, Ethan banged his head against the counter and winced as pain shot through his forehead. He should never have agreed to this assignment. This was an enormous mistake. He wasn’t some highly trained super spy. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.
They’d made it sound so easy. The perfect way he could do something valuable to give his family justice. Get this job, gather a little intel, and get out again. The professionals with experience killing vampires would handle all the real dirty work.
Except Ethan didn’t want innocent people to get hurt.
And if Marcus wasn’t involved in the death of his family, he didn’t deserve to be targeted. He definitely didn’t deserve to die.
Pressing his hands to the cool marble, Ethan pushed himself upright and glared at the stove directly across from him. He could do this. There was still time. He needed to find actual proof that Marcus was a vampire and a killer. Then he could justify giving information over to Carl and the League.
And if the League was wrong about Marcus, he’d tell them and they could look elsewhere. Plus, Ethan had the added bonus of a damn good paying job for a few months. He’d get to live in a nice place that didn’t have mice, and he didn’t have to worry about getting mugged when he walked to and from the train station.
Closing his eyes, Ethan fought down the swell of uselessness that seemed to swamp him along with the memories of his older sister Lucy and little sister Macy. Lucy would have been out of college and possibly married now if she’d lived. Macy would just be starting college. They deserved to live, to have long and happy lives. But that chance had been stolen.
As their brother, he needed to do something about their stolen lives. He should have done something about it already.
God, why do I have to be so useless?
Chapter Six
Marcus glared at the book in his hands. He’d started reading it because that latest announcement from the Ministry left him wanting to storm out of the house, but the sun was still up, making such an act suicide. New fucking taxes thanks to the ruling vampires deciding they needed a “cost of living” pay raise. Utter nonsense.
So he walked away from the computer rather than destroying it and picked up a book. But he’d read the same damn paragraph four times, and he still couldn’t remember what he’d read. This was his favorite author and one of his favorite books. He could practically recite the damn thing by heart, he’d read it so many times. Why couldn’t he concentrate?
