Evading (Regent Vampire Lords Book 4) (3 page)

S
itting in the kitchen
, alone in the dark, Giselle took a long drink of her vodka and pondered the events of the last several months.

Of the interminable war with Xavier.

Of her torture at his minions’ hands.

Of the unusual fact all three Regent Vampire Lords had met and bonded with their Moiras within the last six months.

But mostly, she thought about one Detective Mike Thatcher.

She knew the moment their eyes met almost a year ago now that he was hers. He was her Fated. The only male meant for her.

But she hadn’t been looking for her mate. She didn’t
want
to be tied to any male.
Ever
. She’d been perfectly content alone.

Until
he
showed up.

And changed everything.

He’d fucking changed
everything
.

And try as she might to fight it—
them
—she was failing. Horribly.

She’d never seen a male—human or vampire—as beautiful as Mike. He was built and bulky for a human. Sensual need always swirled in his stormy blue, hooded eyes, which were framed by thick, dark lashes and brows. The scruff he wore well gave him a rough-hewn sort of vibe that fit him perfectly.

But his mouth—that’s what really got her. His lips cut through bullshit and his tongue was razor sharp. His barbs and verbal sparring went straight to her sex, making her hot and needy.

He was her match. Her equal.

Not one person she’d ever run across had gotten to her like the detective. Every single time she saw him, he’d pluck another thorn from her prickly persona, leaving the tiniest of holes that she couldn’t cover quick enough before he wormed his way underneath. That left her vulnerable. Shaken to her fucking core. And pissed off as hell. She needed those damn thorns. They were the only things protecting her fragile insides. Her skin was a rose bed of them…and the bed was thinning quickly.

Not knowing how to deal, she did something she was not proud of. Going against the grain that made her who she was.

She
ran
.

From him.

From herself.

From
them
.

In the beginning, it was self-preservation. The detective detested her kind and in some twisted way she understood. Xavier had taken away the female he thought he was supposed to spend his life with. But he wasn’t meant to spend it with Jamie. He was meant to spend it with
her
; he just didn’t know it. And he certainly would never accept it. Didn’t that just figure. He hated her guts because of something that was completely out of her control.

Same story. New century. Different male.

Try as she might, though, she couldn’t seem to escape him. They’d been incessantly thrown together now for months on end and it was a daily struggle to keep her feelings hidden. They both pushed each other’s buttons. Danced around their feelings. It felt an awful lot like a game of cat and mouse. While Giselle was
always
the stealthy feline, in this particular game she was most definitely the timid prey. Goading him was all fun and games until she realized he actually wanted her back.

But now…now she ran because…well, she was scared. Terrified, really. Humans and vampires were no different when it came to the ugly truth. They would say they want to know you, the
real
you, but once you let them inside, they’d want to turn away because viewing genuine ugliness through a clear lens is like getting a sneak peek into hell. It’s impossible to comprehend the depths of deviance and depravity others are capable of, and seeing it up close and personal means you can’t deny it’s real anymore.

And when you loved someone, you opened that fucking door and let all your insides pour out. The good, the bad, and the
ugly
.

So this…

“I love you, Giselle.”

…this was almost too much to handle.

He’d want to see her ugly and she couldn’t let him.

So where did that leave them?

She really didn’t know.

It had been more than twenty-four hours since she’d left without a word, running scared. Twenty-four hours during which she’d done nothing but think about him and replay his confession over and over again…
“I love you, Giselle.”
And while it made her sick at how those simple words sent flutters through her belly, she could finally admit that she loved him back. Hell, since the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she was in love with his smart mouth and sexy-as-sin ass. But knowing it and admitting it out loud, especially to him, were two totally different things.

She loved him but she didn’t deserve him, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Soul-searching hadn’t helped. That ended up being a vicious cycle of acceptance, then confusion, then anger. She was getting dizzy trying to deny what they were but wanting it all the same. Convincing herself why it may work, then justifying her spineless decision to cut out on him.

Still, without answers, all she knew was she missed him terribly and desperately needed to see him again. But when she finally drummed up the courage to face him, the bastard was nowhere to be found.

She hadn’t heard from him since she’d slunk out like the coward she was. He didn’t call. He hadn’t texted. He’d been radio silent. At first, she couldn’t quite decide if that thrilled her or angered her. But as the hours passed, it was pretty clear which emotion she was feeding from.

Her slow burn had turned into a raging boil.

So here she sat, stalking Mike fucking Thatcher like a goddamned idiot. And by stalking, what she really meant was crazy-ass, balls-to-the-wall, nonstop hounding. If she were human, she’d probably be in jail by now. Phone calls, text messages, pacing the length of his porch waiting for his home to show any signs of life. But he was just gone, so in addition to getting worried, she was now a volcano of ugly pissiness ready to blow.

He’d begged her to stay. Demanded it, actually. Fingered her until she melted under him. Why, then, was he now avoiding her? Maybe the endorphins from the orgasm they’d both pumped him to while she drank down his lifeblood loosened his tongue and lips and he hadn’t meant what he’d said. Maybe he realized he’d been wasting his time. That she wasn’t worth it. That she was too damaged to invest any more effort into.

Maybe he was finally done with her. That thought sat hard and hated in the pit of her stomach.

Hearing a noise, she looked up to find Ren padding into the darkened room.

“Hey, baby girl,” he greeted, pulling a bowl of fruit out of the fridge.

Dev’s security detail, which included Ren, Manny, Thane, and herself, lived at the mansion with Dev. Manny and Thane were close and shared the same wing of the house, but both Ren and Giselle had their own private quarters. Over the years, she’d become used to living with “roommates.” Most of the time, it was convenient. Except when it wasn’t. Like now.

Taking another drink, she relished the slow burn all the way to her stomach. “Why do you insist on calling me that?” she growled, needing to take her anger out on someone. Besides Ren, she would sooner cut out someone’s tongue before allowing them to use an endearment with her.

Except Mike. I let him call me baby all the time.

Shut up dammit!

“Because it riles you up.” The smooth smile that lit his face was brilliant. Ren was one of the best-looking males she had ever met, but she’d never been attracted to him as a female should. He was more like the brother she should have had. Ren and Dev,
they
were her family. Had been ever since Dev saved her.

“You feed recently?” Ren asked.

Yet another secret of hers that Ren held tight to.

Using Mike the way she had was something she hadn’t done since the day she was fully blooded.

In dire situations, vampires fed from bagged blood, but that was like tofu. It was empty, unsatisfying, barely nutritional. Vampires really needed a live host to thrive. Males fed from female humans and female vamps fed from male humans. It was the way for them. Except her. Giselle couldn’t stomach the thought of touching a male in that way because that would lead to sex, so she’d either nourish herself from a willing female at one of Dev’s clubs or use the bagged crap.

Her belly constricted now just thinking of Mike’s taste—having it on her tongue and running through her veins again. It was Eden. God, her mouth watered.

“I’m good.” Her voice sounded thready, wobbly. He smirked and she ignored him, taking another sip.

“Why aren’t you with your detective now?”

Her retort was hot and fast. “He’s not mine.”

“Yeah, he is,” he taunted knowingly. “Have you fucked him yet?”

No, but God how I want to.
“Jesus, Ren. Invasive, much? Asshat.”

Ren threw a few pieces of fruit in his mouth and chewed, watching her closely. “You know, I never took you for being a runner, a quitter. Guess I had you pegged wrong all along.”

Her anger spiked. Lightning fast. Giselle wanted a good verbal sparring. Could use it about now.
That
she knew.
That
was the skin she comfortably fit into. It was like a tailored glove, molding to her ragged edges perfectly instead of this lovey-dovey shit she was trying to muddle through.

Opening her mouth to verbally assault her friend, her mentor, she caught a gleam in his eye and clamped it shut before she could spear him with a caustic word. “I know exactly what you’re doing.” And she almost fell for it, dammit.

“Elle…”

“Just stop already. I don’t need another lecture from you.”

Ren was very perceptive. Too perceptive. It’s almost like he knew…

“Well, it’s your lucky day, then. I’m all fresh out of giving fucks about what you want. You’re going to listen to me even if I have to sit on you.”

She laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

Pulling up a seat next to her, he removed the death grip she had on her liquor-filled tumbler, taking her hand in his. “Why are you fighting this, Elle? As much as that human gets on my last fucking nerve sometimes, he’s a good male. And I think he’s good for you.”

I think so too
.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he actually makes you
feel
. And you haven’t done that in a very, very long time, baby girl.”

She eyed him, trying to drum up hostility she didn’t really feel anymore. “Where’s your vestment?” But sarcasm still stood at the ready. It always would.

“At the dry cleaners,” he deadpanned evenly.

Sighing heavily and not quite up for confession yet, she hedged. “He makes me feel a lot of things.” She meant it acerbically, her tone acidic, but realized after she said the words, they could be taken multiple ways. But Ren would take it the way it was meant. She was confused, torn. A war raged inside.

Ren was the only person Giselle could ever open up to, but it took years before she could trust him. Before she could trust anyone, for that matter. Even Dev. But she could never talk to Dev the way she could Ren. He was a true friend in every sense of the word. He’d saved her ass—and her life—on many occasions, including from Xavier.

“I just…I don’t know if I can let someone in that way, Ren. I don’t even know if I’m capable.”

“That’s a fucking bullshit cop-out and you know it. The way I see it, you’re intentionally sabotaging this, hoping he’ll just bail so you can have someone besides yourself to blame this failure on.” She bristled. He was hitting far too close to the truth. “Here me out, tiger. You are not that same emotionally scarred young woman who stood in front of Dev and me, not begging for
your
life, but the lives of so many other females you knew could be saved if you’d only succeeded at killing that preying sick fucker, Siobhan.”

Her shame-filled gaze dropped, but Ren hooked a finger under her chin and lifted to connect their eyes again.

“I never told you this—I didn’t want you to think I felt sorry for you when the only thing I ever felt was awe for what you’d lived through and how you got out, but you have the mental strength of ten vampires, Giselle. You are a firestorm, burning up anything in your path that stands in the way of your end goal. Turn those flames up a thousand fucking degrees and ash this shit for good. No looking back. Don’t let your past pave your future, baby girl. Then, they win. Don’t. Let. Them. Win.” He peppered the last four words hard. “That human wants you. He
loves
you and you can deny it until your face turns purple, but I know you feel the same way about him.”

She had no comeback, so she diverted. “I have unfinished business.” Ren knew all too well the personal vendetta she’d undertaken.

After all this time, Siobhan had never been found. Another reason she felt she couldn’t move forward with the detective. How could she tie his life—literally—to hers only to take it if she didn’t make it through the battle with him? Because there was no fucking way she’d ever let that go. She would hunt him and kill him, even if that meant giving her own life. With the shit storm Xavier had stirred up lately, revenge had taken a back seat, but it was by no means over. It would never be over as long as his heart beat.

“Excuses are like assholes, Elle. Everyone’s got one.”

She smirked. “Where’d you get that line from?”

“I may have poached it from Sarah. Pretty good, huh?” His brows wagged in smug pride.

Her smile was fleeting before she sobered again. “I’m scared,” she finally choked. God, that was hard to say. Fear made her feel exposed. Admitting it, however, was akin to splitting herself open for all the world to see her foul, fucked-up insides. Her black heart. She had spent the last one hundred twenty years hardening herself to stone so she’d never be hurt again. Giselle wasn’t scared of anyone or anything.

Except for Mike fucking Thatcher.

Damn him
.

Putting his arm around her, he pulled her close. “I know. Elle, you’ve been evading anything that resembles a relationship since I’ve known you. It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Her voice sounded small and meek. Not at all like the self-assured witch she worked hard to build and maintain. She felt as if she was losing herself piece by small piece.