AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And if he was dead, well, she told herself that was absolutely fine with her.
She told herself that, but she didn’t entirely believe it. Not when she remembered the way he’d held her and calmed her. The closeness they’d shared in those recovered memories. The shock on his face when he’d bared his fangs. The horror and self-loathing in his eyes.
And yet he’d killed her father. The man she loved was the vampire she’d been hunting all these years.
Loved.
Did she love him? Once, yes, she had. She could feel it inside her. Could curl up, warm and comfortable with her recovered memories. But she hadn’t known the truth then. She did now.
“Constantine.” The deep voice spoke with an accent she didn’t recognize, and she cringed as someone draped her favorite afghan over her shoulders. She pulled it tight around her, suddenly realizing she was clad only in the tee, then turned to face a creature with a mangled face, his body hidden beneath a filthy gray cloak. She looked into the dark pits that served as eyes and knew that nothing Luke ever did could spook her as much as this being, whatever it was.
“The dwelling is clean,” it said, in a voice that chilled her to the bone. Behind it, three similar creatures, all clad in the same cloaks with the same twisted faces, moved through her apartment. “There is no quarry. For what purpose did you summon the Phonoi?”
If she’d known what she was summoning, she certainly wouldn’t have. As it was, all she could do was shake her head. The creature studied her, the inspection leaving her so cold she was certain she would never feel warm again. Then it turned its head toward the balcony.
“It fled,” the creature said. “That which scared you. It slipped back into the night.”
“I—” She licked her lips, then swallowed. Wanting to answer, but not knowing what to say.
The truth? That was certainly her usual MO. But then why weren’t the words tumbling out?
He’d killed her father. He’d been about to bite her, too. So why wasn’t she pointing in the direction he’d jumped and screaming for these creatures to find him and drag him back to hell where he belonged?
Because when he broke away, Luke had been in hell already. She’d seen the horror and self-loathing on his face. And the regret.
“Sara Constantine.” The creature’s deep voice thrummed within her, like a heavy bass beat. “I ask again. For what purpose did you summon us?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Couldn’t condemn Luke with the truth. And yet despite the pain in her heart, she knew that she couldn’t completely trust him, either.
* * *
Something was prodding him.
Luke blinked, then sputtered, surprised to find himself floating in inky black waters. Surprised even more to find himself looking into two concerned brown eyes.
“Oh, wow. Holy crap. Hold on. Hold on.” The woman couldn’t be more than twenty-three, her wild mass of blond curls pushed back with a headband, the panic coming off her in waves. She wore bright blue workout clothes and held a pool skimmer on a long handle.The pool.He remembered the elevator panel: Fitness Center/Pool Deck. Fifth Floor.
He’d jumped. Twenty stories down to the pool.
No wonder his head was throbbing.
“Can you grab it? Come on. Grab it, okay?”
He did, his fingers screaming with pain as they closed around the cool metal of the pole. She tugged, and he tried to move his limbs, tried to help, but there was no help to be had. His limbs were utterly unwilling to function.
His mind, however, was firing back to life, the lingering scent of Sara’s hair dancing on the edge of his memory, along with the fear and horror he’d seen in her eyes. A fear that had done more damage to him than any stake ever could.
“Did you jump? Did you fall? God, how high were you? Damn you landed hard! I heard it from all the way in the gym, and then there you were.” She was crouched down, her arms under his as she tugged him toward the steps. “God, oh God. You’re a mess. I gotta get my phone. Gotta call someone. You need a hospital. Your leg, you know, it really shouldn’t look like that.”
She shifted to leave, but he managed a small sound, and she stopped. “Huh?”
“Stay.” Blood. He needed to heal, and the hunger was on him like a living thing, the intensity of the rising serpent only quelled by the shock of the fall.
“I’m not gonna leave you. Honest. But I gotta call someone. You need help, and there’s no one else here. Never is in the middle of the night.”
“Time,” he said, his voice little more than a whispered croak.
“Huh? Oh.” She twisted around to look at a distant clock, revealing a long, taut neck, and he trembled, knowing what he had to do and hating himself for it. She turned back and told him the time, her own words sealing her fate. Because time was running out.
