Snapdragons Page 3

  She waited, hoping that he would tell her it hadn’t been her fault, it had all been an accident, and Angelo had brought it upon himself. Peter remained quiet. His eyes, however, just a little too wide, betrayed his shock.

  In the silence of the apartment, Rhea could suddenly hear noises, then steps. She turned her head just in time to see Kaelin walk out of a room, her high-heeled shoes clicking noisily on the wooden floor. She was wearing the same cocktail dress as the previous night. Blonde hair fell on her bare shoulders. She was beautiful, Rhea thought with a pang of jealousy.

  “No clue what’s wrong with the little girl,” she said, her words as stinging as acid. “But I know better than to stay in the same apartment as a pyromaniac. You know where to find me when you have time to play grown-up games, Peter.”

  With that, she threw something at him. It took Rhea a few seconds before she recognized the shiny metal object as a pair of handcuffs, both cuffs broken. She looked back at the vampire. Her wrists were red, she now noticed. She was giving Rhea a condescending smile. Shock and anger ran through Rhea like a blazing fire and her ears started buzzing. Already, though, Kaelin was walking out of the apartment, her head high and her step regal. The click of the door shutting behind her brought Rhea back to the present.

  “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly as she leapt up from the sofa. “I didn’t know… I mean… If I had known you had company…”

  She couldn’t believe she had been stupid enough to believe Peter cared about her. Shame and embarrassment burned her cheeks.

  “Sit,” Peter told her coldly, standing in front of her and leaving her no choice but to slide back down. “Why are you so angry?”

  “I’m not angry!”

  Her nails dug into the palms of her hands but she barely felt the pain.

  “Yes, you are,” Peter said, still looming over her. “Why do you lie to me? I’m trying to help you and—”

  “She called me a little girl,” Rhea cut in, gritting her teeth. “I am not a child. Even if you treat me like one, too. And I know who she is. She’s part of the clan who killed everyone I ever cared about. She’s that same vamp you were protecting even though she was a killer!”

  He shook his head and sat down again, sighing.

  “You’re right about some things,” he conceded. “But very wrong about others.”

  Her hands still fisted on her knees, she simply stared at him, waiting for him to explain. She was disappointed, and hurt, more than she could have thought possible, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Her teenage crush had reawakened in the past week, and deepened into something more meaningful. She’d forgive him anything if he just explained.

  “I do not see you as a child,” he said softly. “And I’m going to prove it to you. I believe you’re strong enough to endure your world being shattered again.”

  At first, she thought he was exaggerating. In just moments, he proved her otherwise. For three weeks, she hadn’t merely lived without her memories. She had also lived a lie. She let him talk without a word, let him break the fragile sandcastle she had built since arriving in Miami, and couldn’t, not for one second, believe he was lying.

  “So they’re not dead?” she murmured, dumbstruck, when he was finished. “You’re sure?”

  “Certain. I talked to Carol the night I met you. She said Paul, Jamie and the others are all fine.”

  “But… the letter?”

  Her hand flew to the purse next to her but she managed to stop herself before she pulled out the letter. It didn’t prove anything anymore.

  “Would it be impossible to believe you lied to yourself?”

  She shook her head, although whether to refute his words or answer his question, she didn’t know.

  “Why would I do that?” she murmured, her eyes staring at nothing. “What happened to me that I would want to forget everything and run away…” She focused back on Peter, suddenly hopeful. “Did Carol say anything about me?”

  “No, she didn’t,” he said, leaning forward toward her. “But I do know what happened to you.”

  She blinked. She would have expected him to tell her everything he knew right away. “So, what is it?” she asked, anxious.

  “It’s not up to me to tell you. Your reasons for leaving are yours to discover. To remember. If I told you, it wouldn’t be your past. Just a story.”

  “A story?” She winced at the high-pitched tone of her own voice but couldn’t calm down. “It’s my life! Not a damn story! And who told you anyway?”

  “Kaelin,” he replied as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “She still has friends in New York’s vamp community.”

  Rhea just stared at him. She couldn’t begin to imagine what New York’s vampires knew about her—but that was the entire problem, wasn’t it? She couldn’t imagine what she didn’t know. She was tired of it.

  “Whatever happened, I don’t want to run anymore,” she said, her voice both strong and shaky. “Help me get my memories back, Peter. Please.”

  He nodded and stood. “I’ve got everything we need. Just give me a minute and I’ll gather the ingredients. It shouldn’t be too hard…”

  He continued to talk as he prepared the spell, but Rhea didn’t really listen. She understood his instructions and helped him to move the coffee table then draw the sand circle on the floor. She placed the candles as he instructed her before she sat, crossed-legged, in the center, but she didn’t listen to his reassurances. She didn’t want to be reassured. She wanted to know.

  Finally, Peter started chanting. That, Rhea listened to, wondering what spell he was using and whether—

  She suddenly went rigid, back arched as she wailed in agony. Her head felt as though it were too tight. She fell backwards, and her arm knocked over a candle. She hissed at the touch of the flame or her bare skin, and then her body went slack.

  * * * *

  One more flight of stairs. Rhea sighed, gripped the rail a little harder, and hoisted herself forward. It had been a long week—no, a long month. With one less Special Enforcer at the agency, she had needed to put in longer research hours, just like she had, a few years earlier, when Peter had left. The difference was that, back then, she had been sad to see him go, but she had lost nothing more with his departure than a friend she had a crush on. This time… this time the loss was very different.

  Two steps before she reached the landing, she froze. A few feet in front of her a man was sitting on the floor, with his back to her apartment’s door and his arms around his knees. But when he raised his head to look at her, she realized it wasn’t just any man.

  “Ca…Carlos?” she breathed, unable to say the name too loud for fear she might wake up and find it had been a dream.

  He smiled at her, and the ice that had encased her heart for the past month melted at once. “Hey baby. You’re home late.”

  She was taken by the irrepressible urge to laugh at these words. He thought she was late when he hadn’t come home for four weeks?

  “Where have you been?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  The two livid scars high on his neck hadn’t been there when she had last kissed him good luck before he and Paul had gone out on patrol.

  He stood, very slowly, clearly trying not to frighten her. “You know where. I wanted to come back to you earlier, but this is the first time I’ve been allowed out on my own. I’ve missed you so much…”

  Stifling a sob, Rhea took a step forward, then another one. Carlos tentatively opened his arms to her, as though unsure whether or not she would come to him. It was the look on his face that decided her. She had seen that same expression in the mirror every morning for the past month.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she said, stepping into his embrace and sighing when his arms closed around her. “I was so scared I had lost you…”

  “Shhh…” He ran his fingers through her hair, the gesture so familiar it was instantly soothing. “I’m here, now. And we�
��ll stay together, you’ll see. Forever.”

  His mouth trailed over her neck, his lips cool and tender. Rhea closed her eyes and waited for the bite.

  The afternoon after his disappearance, she had done a fairly basic spell to find him. For the first time, she had obtained no result. She had done the spell again, certain she had made a mistake, and again nothing had happened. Her hands trembling, she had then done a different spell, this one used to localize vampires rather than humans. At the moment she had seen the familiar red dot come to life on the map, she had known what had happened to Carlos. He was hardly the first Special Enforcer to be turned into the very thing it was his job to hunt.

  Over the last month, she had had more than enough time to think about what she would do if he came for her. She had even started carrying a stake in her purse. Now, though, staking him was the farthest thing from her mind. He had missed her. He had wanted to come back to her. He wanted to be with her forever…

  And still, he wasn’t biting her.

  “Carlos?” she said, her voice trembling. “What—”

  “I can’t do it.” The quiet words felt like a caress on her skin.

  She stroked his hair lightly. “It’s OK,” she murmured. “I want you to do it. You can—”

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m not allowed to do it.” His embrace tightened a little more until Rhea started having trouble breathing. “I was supposed to fetch you, nothing more. My Sire will do it. He’s wanted his own witch for a long time and I will him give one.”

  “Give?” she gasped, dumbfounded.

  “Now you’re going to come nicely, baby. Don’t make me hurt you. All right?”

  But nothing was all right anymore. It wasn’t right that Carlos, her sweet, tender Carlos, would threaten to hurt her. It wasn’t right that he was a vampire when he had hated vampires so much all his life. It wasn’t right that he was speaking of giving her to anyone, let alone his Sire.

  Rage and fear rose in Rhea, blindingly bright as they burned white hot. A word passed her lips—fire—and suddenly, ashes were falling at her feet, tracing a circle around her. She stumbled forward at being free so suddenly and caught herself on the door. Hissing, she snatched her hand back. The door was burning, as was the building around her. The loud buzzing noise in her ears, which she hadn’t noticed until it started fading, didn’t cover the fire alarm or the shouts anymore. She raised her face to the ceiling. It was raining. The water felt cold on her skin. Too cold. And too hot. She had to get out.

  * * * *

  In a flash everything was back, the memories sharp as shards of glass embedded beneath Rhea’s skin. She wanted to cry out and weep all at once in pain, grief, and rage. She wanted to strike, just like she had wanted to not even a month earlier, strike at anything and everything, give someone else the pain that her chest couldn’t hold.

  She remembered walking out of the blaze, unscathed when already paramedics were taking victims away. Someone had thrown a blanket over her, had drawn her away from the inferno and the firefighters who battled it. She had watched from a café across the street as the entire building had gone up in flames, regardless of how much water had been thrown at it, while the surrounding buildings remained untouched. She had heard someone mutter words she wished she hadn’t understood. Casualties. Arson. Magic.

  Only then had she realized that she had done this. So full of power that she had thought she would burst, she had asked a waitress for a piece of paper and pen. Before she could succumb to anger again, before she could kill anyone else, she would make herself as harmless as she knew how.

  And now everything was back. Peter had brought it back.

  “Rhea?”

  “Peter,” she replied calmly, coolly, keeping her eyes closed.

  “You have to get out of the circle on your own. How is your arm? I have a cream for burns in the other room, I’ll be right back.”

  She listened to his steps going away, to his words as he continued to talk to her in that reassuring voice, unaware that all the reassurances in the world wouldn’t suffice, now. Not anymore.

  Following the sound of his voice, she rose from the floor and went to him, to his bedroom. It reeked of sex, and the wooden bars on the headboard were broken. It was a slap to the face to be reminded that not so long ago she had been jealous of Kaelin. It was quite pathetic, really. Behind the fine wrinkles at the corner of his mouth and eyes, it was still the same old Peter, who saw nothing more than a child in her, she was sure of it.

  “You never learn, do you? Always trying to take care of women who are more powerful than you could ever dream of being.”

  He turned away from the bureau and toward her, a small jar in his hand, frowning slightly. Without a second thought, she lashed out across the room. A swipe of her arm was enough to pin Peter to the wall. The jar fell from his hand and rolled beneath the bed. She watched him struggle uselessly against his invisible bonds before coming closer to him. His pleas annoyed her, and she wove another thread of air and gagged him.

  “Did it occur to you that the reason why I didn’t want to remember was to protect other people, rather than myself? You said you knew what happened. Didn’t you understand how dangerous I am? Why in hell did you—”

  She didn’t even try to find the answer to her question, but it came to her—it practically reached out toward her—and all she had to do was pluck it from Peter’s mind. As if realizing what she had done, he stopped struggling. For an instant, he stared at her in amazement before closing his mind.

  “To help you find a fucking boat,” she said coldly. “You didn’t want me to remember what happened. You wanted me to remember how to use my magic so that you could get rich.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Well, I have my magic, now. Happy?”

  He managed to grunt, which she chose to interpret as an agreement.

  “Of course, I may not feel very inclined to the idea of letting you use me.”

  A flash of something passed in Peter’s otherwise impassible eyes, and Rhea smiled.

  “Do you feel guilty, Pete, about trying to take advantage of an innocent little girl? Because that’s how you thought of me, wasn’t it? Poor little Rhea, all lost and alone. Let’s mess with her life just to make yours easier, shall we?”

  He was still immobile against the wall, to the point that it seemed as if he remained there of his own free will. A pang of irritation ran through Rhea and she struck him, her nails leaving bloody marks on his face. She stared at the trickling blood, fascinated.

  “How come she never turned you?” she asked, brushing her finger against the trail of blood and then down his neck—his unblemished neck. “We were all so sure she would kill you…”

  His eyes gave away nothing, but Rhea still noticed the tremor that shook his body at her touch. She thought for an instant that it was fear, but then she saw—his sweatpants did nothing to hide it—how else his body was answering to her.

  “Sensitive skin?” She ran her fingers along the neckline of his t-shirt. “Or is it being tied up like this that makes you hot? Your lovely bitch knows that you like this side of bondage too?”

  She paused and eyed him critically. “Or maybe it’s me,” she murmured, sliding closer to him until their bodies were mere millimeters apart. “Were you planning on taking advantage of poor little Rhea this way too?”

  Still no reaction; it was becoming rather frustrating. At the same instant, she pressed her hand hard against his erection and freed his mouth. His gasp was pure music to her ears.

  “How about I take advantage of poor little you, instead?” she asked, and the flesh hardening beneath her hand answered far more truthfully than he did.

  “Rhea… You have to stop…”

  She squeezed his cock and watched him bite his bottom lip not to moan.

  “Stop what, Pete? Stop hurting? Stop wanting the world to end? Stop remembering that the person I loved…”

  The words refused to come out. It got worse when Peter’s ey
es lit up with understanding.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, quietly, as though she didn’t have him pinned to the wall and in no position to show compassion to her.

  “It’s your fault,” she snapped.

  She was angry at the way her own body was reacting to the feel of his. She didn’t have a crush on him, not anymore, she refused to. She was in love with Carlos. Carlos who was dead. Carlos who wouldn’t be back. Carlos who would have been so disappointed—

  Refusing to think anymore, refusing to let her grief once more obliterate everything, she listened instead to the void in her heart, to the aching need for warmth that she had been feeling for so long. She pressed her body and lips to Peter’s, and tried to forget everything again.

  His body clearly approved of the feel of hers, but then she could too easily guess that he had been in the middle of a sexual encounter with Kaelin when she had turned up on his doorstep. He and his cock were merely picking up where they had left off before.

  He tried to turn his head to the side to escape her mouth, but she threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged, preventing him from moving. He refused to answer her kiss and remained passive under the assault. With a frustrated grunt, she bit down on his bottom lip; Peter gasped. He started kissing her back, using teeth, tongue, and lips as though it were a battle he was determined to win.

  This sudden response startled Rhea and she stepped back, breaking all contact between them. Something that could have been a growl passed Peter’s lips as he uselessly strained forward.

  “Let me go.”

  Her hand rose toward him before falling back.