Lucifer (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 11) Page 7

  She sighed. She wasn’t going to do that. Her feelings might not have changed, but everything else had. What they’d once had was impossible now, and she had to accept that. The best thing would be to get through this investigation, this hunt, as quickly as possible. Find Colin and reunite him with Sophia. Then Lucifer could go back to Aden’s Midwest, and she’d return to Vancouver with Sophia. This was the reality of their situation, the reason she’d run all those years ago. He didn’t need her anymore. And no amount of dreaming could change that.

  LUCIFER WAS IN a fine temper by the time they reached their hotel. He strode through the lobby without stopping at the desk. Cal Christensen had already checked in for them before they arrived, so they were able to go straight into the elevator and up to their sixth floor penthouse.

  As promised, the hotel was small, only ten rooms on four floors. Vampires tended to prefer private residences, but most major cities had at least one boutique hotel that catered to their kind. And for Montreal, this was it.

  They exited the elevator into a wide foyer with a double-doored entry to the penthouse directly in front of them. The doors opened into a substantial living area, with a wet bar to one side and a fireplace on the other. The far wall was floor to ceiling windows with an unobstructed view of the dark sky above the adjacent buildings, all of which were shorter than their hotel. But then Lucifer didn’t give a fuck about the view. The temper riding him wasn’t interested in starry skies, unless they were the ones under which Eleanor finally admitted she still had feelings for him, which she obviously did.

  Hell, what kind of vampire would he be if he couldn’t tell when a woman was attracted to him? And he was a damn powerful vampire. She’d been way more than attracted earlier, she’d been aroused. And he’d bet she still loved him, too; that she’d never stopped. Which suited him just fine, because he’d never stopped loving her. He’d never doubted back then that she’d loved him, but despite the joy of discovering that she was alive, it came with the knowledge that she’d chosen to leave him, to run away in the night without even a word of explanation. There had to be a reason, something truly shattering to have driven her to such an extreme action.

  When he’d seen her standing there tonight, alive and well, and as beautiful as ever, all of the love and desire that had made their life together so passionate and exhilarating had come roaring back to life. But along with it came the pain—the hole in his heart that had taken years to stop bleeding, the ache of waking every night and knowing she was truly gone. And the anger. Hell, the rage he’d felt not only with Derek Pratt, but with Eleanor for letting him believe the lie all these years. For not trusting him enough to tell him the truth.

  Yeah, he remembered the passion, but more, he remembered the pain. If nothing else, she owed him a damn explanation. Hell, she owed him a fucking apology. If she wanted to ignore the chemistry between them, the attraction that still pulled on them every time they got close, the desire that pulsed between them . . . he’d grant her that freedom, no matter how much it hurt him. But he deserved to know why.

  Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be getting an apology or even an explanation tonight. Or rather, this morning. The sun was very near the horizon, blazing a trail of heat up his spine in warning. That didn’t mean he had to retire meekly to his bed, however. He walked into one of the rooms and threw his satchel onto the bed, then strode back out into the common area, where Eleanor was just thanking one of the guards for wheeling in her suitcase.

  Lucifer continued over to the windows, where he examined the control panel for the heavy shutters, which would drop down to secure the room against sunlight. The panel required a code, which he’d be changing before they retired for the day. He never took chances when it came to daylight security, but with Eleanor’s safety at risk, he’d be doubly careful.

  With a nod of dismissal, he waited until the human was gone before turning his attention to Eleanor. She was staring at him with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, the latter of which pissed him off even further. He’d never touched her in anger, barely cursed in her direction. The fact that she now stood there looking at him as if waiting for him to lay into her only stoked the fire of his temper.

  “We need to lay down some ground rules,” he snapped without preamble. “We both want this investigation over with as soon as possible. We both have our reasons. So this is how it’s going to be. This is my hunt. This is what I do, and I’m damn good at it. You’re here as Sophia’s rep. Fine. I have no problem with that. But we do things my way. We do what I say, when I say it. If you get in my way, you’re out. If you or Sophia don’t like it, she can talk to Aden.

  “The only thing that matters here is finding Colin Murphy and bringing him back alive. And that’s what I intend to do. With or without you.”

  Eleanor hadn’t said a word during his entire speech. She’d started out with an intent expression on her lovely face, her big, blue eyes serious and focused, listening to every word. But as he’d gone on, her expression had cooled, even as her eyes had sparked with fire. By the time he’d finished, she was glaring up at him with a narrow gaze that certainly belied the love he was certain she still harbored for him.

  She waited until it was clear he had nothing more to say, and then she muttered, “Arrogant ass,” spun on her heel, and marched into her half of the penthouse, closing the door with a force just short of slamming it.

  Lucifer grinned. “I think she likes me,” he commented to no one in particular. But Cal Christensen, who’d come back into the penthouse just in time to witness Eleanor’s parting shot, gave him a doubtful look.

  “Is that what you think?” he asked.

  Lucifer laughed. He and Cal had been paired on several assignments in the last year, and they worked well together. The man was the closest thing Lucifer had to a human friend.

  “Trust me,” he said now. “She’s definitely warming up to me.”

  Cal snorted his opinion of that as Lucifer headed for his bedroom. “Sweet dreams, boss.”

  “Vampires don’t dream, Cal. I’ll see you tonight.”

  1993, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

  ELEANOR RAN THE brush through her long, blond hair one last time. Lucifer loved her hair, and it had to be perfect for him. Setting her brush down, she picked up her lip gloss and did a final touch-up. It was pink, and strawberry flavored. Lucifer’s favorite. Her friends teased her, saying she was losing herself in him. And some did more than tease. But she didn’t care. She loved him, and she’d never been happier. And he loved her, too. She was sure of it. Not just because he told her so, but because he showed it in a million little ways every single night they were together.

  The sound of knuckles hitting the door made her jump in surprise. She’d left the door unlocked, so Lucifer wouldn’t have to knock. He didn’t like that she did that. He said it wasn’t safe. But she could tell that it pleased him, too. Maybe he’d forgotten, or maybe his arms were full. He’d told her last night that he had a surprise for her. Maybe this was it!

  She ran for the door, her feet barely touching the ground in her excitement. She finally understood what writers meant when they said that. She really did feel like she was floating on a cloud of happiness.

  She opened the door, laughing as she trilled, “Come in, come in—” Her words caught in her throat when she looked up. “You’re not Lucifer,” she whispered, horrified to realize what she’d just done.

  “Gee, thanks,” Derek Pratt said, pushing her back as he crossed the threshold she’d just invited him to step over.

  “Derek,” she said nervously, hoping Lucifer arrived soon. He’d kick Derek’s ass for daring to knock on her door, much less invite himself inside. Okay, so she’d been the one to invite him in, but only because she’d thought he was Lucifer, and had been too stupid to check before she issued that invitation. She never would have let Derek enter her apartment, and cer
tainly not when she was alone. He’d been hustling her that first night, the time she’d met Lucifer. Hell, he’d been after her for weeks before that with no success. Though to hear him tell it, she’d finally been ready to give in to his charm offensive, only a heartbeat away from offering him her vein . . . and then Lucifer had intervened and stolen her away.

  Talk about delusional.

  She’d never liked Derek, had never even thought about giving in to his pursuit. What he saw as a charm offensive, she’d considered something tantamount to harassment. He was good-looking enough, if one liked the strung-out rocker look. Tall and slender, bordering on skinny, but muscular and strong, as all vampires were. It wasn’t his looks that made her dislike him, though. Even before Lucifer had appeared on the scene, she’d seen the mean side of Derek. Not toward her, not then. But she’d seen the way he dealt with others, the way he coveted, and the way he hated those who aroused that covetousness.

  And he coveted her. Especially now that she and Lucifer were together. She didn’t think he wanted her as much for herself anymore, but more because Lucifer had her. Derek had never forgiven her for choosing Lucifer, never forgiven Lucifer for intervening. He never would have understood what she and Lucifer had. Lucifer made her feel safe, cherished. Derek didn’t even know what those words meant.

  And now, standing in her apartment with him, with no one to see what he might do, and sure as hell no one to stop him, she was scared. She was in danger from Derek, and she knew it.

  She tried to be polite, to keep him occupied with meaningless conversation, to delay until Lucifer arrived. Where was he? He should have been there already, and he was rarely late. It made her fear the worst, that Derek had done something to him to slow him down or . . . No, she wouldn’t think about that. Lucifer was stronger than Derek. That’s why he’d been successful in driving Derek off the first night they met. Just another reason for Derek to hate him.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded abruptly.

  He gave her a smirking grin. “Lucifer sent me actually,” he said casually, as he strolled around her small apartment, lifting and touching and moving her things.

  She frowned. “Why would he send you?”

  “You’re an insulting little thing, aren’t you? You must have a magical pussy for Lucifer to put up with that shit.”

  She gasped, her eyes going wide at the crude words. “Get out, Derek,” she said again.

  “I already told you, sugar. Not going to happen.”

  “Fine. Just tell me why Lucifer sent you and be done with it.

  “Not so fast, darlin’. Some things can’t be rushed.”

  “Like what?” she asked sarcastically, absolutely certain he was full of shit.

  “Like this.” He moved in the way vampires could, closing the distance between them in a blur of vampire speed. Grabbing a length of her long hair, he twisted it around his hand and yanked her head to one side. She screamed, pounding on his side, trying uselessly to break away. But it was too late. It had been too late from the moment she’d opened the damn door.

  His teeth sank into her neck, his fangs slicing through her skin and into her vein with a painful burn that she’d never felt with Lucifer. She cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks, but Derek only gripped her harder, groaning in pleasure as her blood rolled down his throat, holding her tight against him with one arm so that she could feel the hard jut of his erection against her belly.

  She was nearly choking on her sobs, thrashing in his arms like a fish on a hook, weakening more with every passing moment, every draw of his mouth. A renewed heat burned in her veins as the euphoric in Derek’s blood hit her, but she was too weak to do much more than shiver, while he sucked ever harder. Her consciousness began to fade, and she realized he was going to kill her. A creeping darkness stole her thoughts, and she drifted weightlessly for a few sluggish heartbeats.

  And then there was nothing.

  She woke slowly, sitting up with a terrified shout as she remembered the attack. She shuddered, remembering the stench of Derek’s breath on her cheek, the shocking pain when he’d sliced into her vein, the acidic burn of his bite in her veins. Reaching up, she touched her neck, almost afraid to discover the ruin he’d left behind. But while her neck was tender and sore, her fingers told her the wound was already healed. She rubbed the smooth skin and came away with flakes of dried blood beneath her nails.

  She blinked to awareness. It was dark outside the windows. She sat up. She was . . . so hungry. How much time had passed?

  “Welcome to the new world, Eleanor darling. You’re mine now.”

  The truth crashed in on her and she screamed, drowning in a loss greater than any she could have imagined.

  Chapter Four

  Present Day, Montreal, Quebec, Canada

  LUCIFER STEPPED OUT of the shower and grabbed a towel, striding naked into the bedroom of his suite, and not slowing until he reached for the knob and yanked his door open wide enough to see directly into the main sitting room. Head tilted, he stared across the empty space to Eleanor’s still-closed door and listened. He could have sworn he heard a scream. But that made no sense. Everything was quiet and calm. He could sense the human guards in the hallway and outside, beyond the shuttered windows. They were alert, their heartbeats steady and even, with no evidence of alarm.

  Still uneasy, he stepped back into his suite and closed the door, then walked over and picked up his cell phone, where he stabbed the speed dial for Cal Christensen.

  “Lucifer,” Cal answered. “You’re awake,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “Were there any disturbances during the day? Anything this evening so far?” he asked, affecting a casual air, as if this was nothing but a routine conversation opener.

  “Nothing all day. The noise is picking up some tonight, a lot of traffic and horns. But the hotel’s head of security tells me that’s normal for a Friday night around here.”

  Lucifer scowled. He hadn’t thought about it being the weekend, but decided it wouldn’t make any difference. “Okay, thanks,” he said to Cal. “We’ll be out in a bit.” He disconnected, and with a final glance in the direction of Eleanor’s half of the penthouse, walked back into the bathroom and finished drying off from his shower.

  EVERYTHING WAS STILL quiet from Eleanor’s suite when Lucifer opened his door again and crossed into their shared space. He was restless and unsettled, an unusual experience for him. He tended to be focused, almost single-minded, some would say. Especially when on a hunt. But he’d woken with that sense of missing something, and then there’d been that scream during his shower . . . . No matter what anyone else said, he knew what he’d heard, and he wouldn’t be able to let it go until Eleanor poked her pretty head out through that doorway.

  He was being foolish, and not very productive. He was the one who’d been lecturing everyone else on the primacy of the hunt above everything else, and here he was, mooning like a day-old calf. And over a woman who’d left him more than twenty years ago.

  Determined to complete the task that Aden had set him, which also happened to be the only reason they were in this city, he grabbed the file with pictures and witness statements, and sat at the table in the living room of the penthouse. He needed to go over everything one more time. He’d missed something, something that his subconscious mind had caught, and was trying to warn him about. This was what he was good at. He noticed the tiny details, the slip of a witness’s tongue, the seemingly insignificant changes in their statements, the color of the door they’d passed two blocks ago. Combined with his natural charisma, and a vampire-enhanced talent that made people want to please him, it made him a very good hunter.

  So he started at the beginning of his evidence, the beginning of what they knew, and went through it piece by piece one more time. Every document was so familiar by now that he could have recited them line by line f
rom memory. But that didn’t deter him from reading them again. And when he finished that, he scanned every photograph from edge to edge, noting the tiny details that could make a difference, that could be the one thing he’d missed.

  As he sat there, part of his awareness registered noise from behind Eleanor’s door, sounds that told him she was awake and alert, moving around, getting ready. She’d be out here soon, and he could ask her about the scream. He frowned. Or maybe not. She probably wouldn’t tell him anyway, and they didn’t need any more secrets between them.

  He was flipping through the photographs, one ear tuned to the sounds Eleanor was making, when something caught his eye. He frowned, staring down at the photograph in front of him. He scrutinized it carefully. Nothing, but . . . the photograph before that one. He flipped back two photographs to be safe, and gave them the same careful examination. The first one revealed nothing new, so he moved on to the second photo, the one he’d passed on just before that shock of awareness stabbed his consciousness.

  It was a standard interrogation photograph. A young human female sitting at a table, being interviewed by a vampire he didn’t recognize. He assumed the vamp was one of Sophia’s people, but couldn’t narrow it down any more than that.

  But that wasn’t the thing that was bothering him. He studied the photograph patiently. He never rushed this sort of thing. It didn’t work that way. He focused on the woman, since she was the only unique aspect of the photo. The interrogator was the same vampire as the previous interviews, the room was the same room, and no one else was in the photograph.

  She was reasonably attractive—early 20s, dark hair cut in a chin length bob, slender shoulders. He glanced at the interview date—just under a week ago, the same Saturday night Colin had been taken. There’d been no delay in discovering his abduction. Several witnesses had come forward almost immediately to report the crime, although most were irritatingly vague on details.