Bitten by Darkness (7 page)

Her knife
was very sharp. She made sure of it, honing the edge whenever she felt
unsettled. It soothed her. Now she was grateful for her paranoia because Jasper
needed it to be just that sharp. Sienna swallowed hard as blood sprayed out and
down, thick and black. She almost started praying before she remembered that
she no longer believed in God. What now? Should they call the police? But no,
Jasper wasn't done yet. She stared as he tossed her knife to the ground and put
a foot over the monster's right foot. With a sharp, horrible twist, he tore the
creature's head completely off and threw it onto the deck. Head and body
disappeared in a violent puff of red dust. It glittered for a moment, floating
on strangely calm air,
then
disappeared. It was as if
nothing had even happened.

Sienna
fought the urge to giggle wildly. He'd ripped a man's head off!
With his bare hands.
No, wait.
A vampire's
head.
And weren’t they much stronger, sturdier than humans? That meant
that Jasper was stronger, too.
Much, much stronger.
She felt a bit light-headed.

“We need
to move,” her mother said abruptly. “It's not safe here.”

Jasper
shook his hands and a trace of red floated away. “Go to my house. You’ll be
safe there.” He looked at them, eyes shadowed.

Violet
shook her head and shoved herself upright. “No.”

Sienna
frowned, thinking of the weird barrier at Jasper's mansion. They would probably
be more secure there than anywhere else. She stood up, wondering if she should
fetch her knife or leave it on the decking. It had clattered to the ground just
as the creature puffed into nothing.

“Please,”
he said, lifting a hand.

Her
mother shrank back. “No,” she said, louder. Her hand found Sienna's wrist and
pressed, hard.

Sienna
bit back a wince. Her mother was on the edge of hysteria. She'd only seen her
like this once before: when her father had left them. “We can't,” she said,
apologetically, trying to convey her worry for her mother without words, but
Jasper wasn’t getting it.

His eyes
darkened. “Sienna, this isn't a game.”

She
laughed bitterly.
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Somehow she
managed to turn her arm so that her mother's hand was holding her rather than
bruising her forearm. “I've got to take her home.”

He tilted
his head, examining them.

Finally, he buys a clue
, Sienna thought in relief.

He nodded
reluctantly. “I see.”

Sienna
backed away, grabbing her mother's purse as she moved. She decided to leave her
blade.
Let Jasper figure out what to do with it.

Chapter Nine

Jasper
stood at the curb near a large maple and looked over the small apartment
building. Sienna lived on the second floor. It would be tricky to get up there
without anyone seeing him, especially in this mostly rural town. He fingered
her knife, rubbing a thumb over the rivet sunk into the handle. She'd used it a
lot, he could tell by the scratches on the blade. She kept it sharp, though.
The question was: what did she use it for? Why did she have it?

He shook
his head. He shouldn't be here. He'd just barely got the
nanites
working and was nearly out of the samples he acquired on the underground blood
market back on
Dekcol
. Now that he’d had time to look
at some of the data he’d stolen from the Council’s encrypted database, he knew
that the sentient blood market was far more of a well-organized crime syndicate
than a casual money making scheme. And it was run by
Dekcol’s
government, the same one who’d coerced him onto their Council. He swallowed the
nasty taste in his mouth as he considered the entire operation again. He had to
stop them, but the thought of hitting a blood bank here to obtain more filled
him with disgust. He would do it if he had to—he had no illusions about himself—but
he was not a monster. People depended on those supplies and unlike the
syndicate,
he did not function under the misapprehension
that the donated blood supply was endless.

When the
front door opened, Jasper moved. An older woman and a young man, possibly her
grandson, smiled as he caught the door, holding it for them. The man looked him
over curiously, but the old woman smiled.

“You're a
friend of Sienna's,” she said.

Jasper
raised an eyebrow. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Oh, she
described you to me.
Said a tall man with nice eyes might be
stopping by.”
With that extraordinary statement, the woman patted his
arm and let her grandson escort her down the uneven pavement to his car.

For a
moment, all he could do was
stare
, dumbfounded. Sienna
thought he had nice eyes? He wondered if slapping himself in the face would
help his brain restart, then discarded the idea. If anyone saw him hitting
himself
they’d think he was insane. More importantly, how
did Sienna know he would be coming over? The incident with the revenant had
happened two nights ago. He was still trying to determine whether the attacks
he'd seen in the short time since his return to Earth were normal, or somehow
heightened.
Is this violence my fault?
he
wondered, not for the first time. He worried about it. Worried that they could
sense him somehow and were attacking those close to him.
Can they sense
Sienna is my mate?
If so, how?
Her friend was hurt
even before I knew she existed.

He shook
himself.
Enough paranoia.
Most likely the attacks were
unrelated to his arrival. He had no data on revenant attacks prior to his
return and no way to gather it. He’d have to assume it was normal, at least
until some further evidence presented itself. He frowned, a brief spurt of
anger propelling him inside the small entryway. He was here to return Sienna’s
knife, nothing more. He had no intention of lingering, or allowing her to gain
a better understanding of what was happening between them. He couldn’t afford
the liability of a mate, not now, probably not ever. And he wouldn’t be here
long enough for any revenants to sense his presence. She should be safe.

If you
were so worried about her safety, why didn't you just mail her knife to her?
Why are you here in person?
He
took the stairs two at a
time,
as if that would allow
him to outrun the voice in his head telling him he was mad to ignore Sienna and
the promise of her body.
I’m just hungry. I need to feed.
He resolved to
go hunting again tonight. Even if he drained one dry, another deer in the woods
wouldn't be missed, not with the overpopulation so evident near his manor.

“How the
hell did you get in here?” Sienna’s smooth voice asked from the doorway.

He barely
kept himself from smacking into her.
Smooth, Jasper.
Very smooth.

He looked
her over, trying not to feel uncomfortably trapped on the small landing. She
wore a fluffy pink robe that made her unbound hair gleam like gold. Her feet
were bare. He forced his eyes away from the red nail polish on her toes and
tried to smile past the sudden bolt of lust.
Why do I feel so damn
unsettled?
He wondered if she
could see his erection in his suddenly too-tight jeans. He hoped not.

“Apparently
you knew I would be coming. Your neighbor let me in.” He held out his hand,
knife balanced across his scar.

She
glanced down. “Ah. You might as well come in.” She backed up, holding the door
open for him.

Inside,
the tiny dining room held a small wood table and two chairs, neither of which
looked strong enough to support him.
Or her, actually.
Thank goodness she strode directly into the living room and held out a hand
toward the sofa in an impatient gesture he interpreted to mean either
make
yourself
at
home
or
sit down there now
. He
wasn’t sure which, though given the slight frown on his face, it could be both.
The sofa was purple, but at least seemed sturdy enough for someone of his size.

“Do you
actually sit on the chairs in the dining room?” he asked as he walked over,
curious. She wasn't a small woman. In fact, she was one of the few females he'd
met who rivaled his size. It was pleasant not to have to bend down just to hear
her speak.
One more reason to take her for your own
, the treacherous
voice in his head whispered.
Shut it
,
he mentally commanded, squashing the comment with a mental boot.

“What's
wrong with my chairs?”

He tensed,
just now realizing the trap into which he'd put himself. “They just seem a bit
… fragile.” He tentatively lowered himself onto the sofa.

She
frowned and perched on the arm next to him, her fluffy robe falling open
slightly. He forced himself not to stare at her toned thighs. Did she know she
was flashing him? He shifted, trying to make room in his jeans that were now
past uncomfortable and heading for excruciating. His eyes landed on her chest.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“If
you're trying to tell me that I'm tall, don't bother. I already know it. If
you're trying to tell me that I'm fat—”

“No,
definitely not,” he choked out, tearing his eyes away from her cleavage.

She
frowned at him then held out a hand.

He
stared, imagining her palm sliding over his hips.

“My knife?”
She snapped her fingers.

“Oh, yeah.”
He held it up to her, but didn't put it in her hand. “What do you use
it for?”

She let
her arm fall and sighed. “I whittle.”

He
blinked.
“Seriously?”

“See for
yourself.” She gestured to the coffee table.

Perched
on the glass top
was
a drink coaster, a television
remote, and an impish little salamander carved from some kind of dark wood. He
picked it up and turned it upside down. A delicate “S” was etched into the
creature's belly. He traced it with the knife handle, ignoring her shiver.
“Your signature?”

She
nodded.

Jesus
. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with given her
considerable physical beauty, she had to be talented, too? The little reptile
was beautiful. It wasn't just the detail of it, though that was skillfully
done, it was the way she'd taken advantage of flaws in the wood and turned them
into the salamander's eyes and tail. His cock leaped painfully against the
unforgiving metal of his zipper. She wasn't just beautiful and intelligent, she
was gifted.

“It's
lovely,” he said, putting it back down. He wished he could keep it. He turned
the pearl-handled blade over in his hands, then pushed the safety off and
opened it up. “I sharpened it for you.” He held it out, handle first. The blade
rested against his palm. If he moved suddenly, it would cut him. If she grabbed
the knife carelessly, he would bleed. She looked at him, face unreadable,
then
reached out a tentative hand, but to his consternation,
she didn’t take the knife. The woman constantly threw him off balance.

“You were
surprised when I invited you in,” she said instead, fingertips tracing over his
scar. His palm tingled where she touched it.

He
nodded.
Surprised
isn't the right word, he thought to himself.

She slid
her fingers underneath the blade.

“Careful,”
he warned, not wanting her to cut herself. The pulse in her wrist flared and he
struggled not to focus on it. He definitely should have fed before coming here.
His teeth were beginning to ache along with the throbbing in his groin.

She
grinned suddenly and grabbed it by the handle, flicking the blade back inside
where it belonged. He let his hand drop, strangely disappointed.

“It's the
least I could do. You apologized to me at the café and I didn't return the
favor. I'm sorry I kissed you the other day,” she said.

He
searched her face. She was serious. “Why aren't you afraid of me?” he asked,
remembering how good it felt to tear the revenant's head off. Most humans would
have freaked out at that particular display. He remembered her mother’s face,
white and horrified, but Sienna hadn’t been frightened.

“Should I
be?” she challenged, her hazel eyes glittering defiantly.

He tilted
his head. “Yes.”

She
lifted a brow. “So, do you often go around ripping vampire's heads off?”

His
nostrils flared as a sudden burst of anger shot through him. “It was a
revenant, and do you want to die?” he asked harshly, wondering how the hell he
could still have a hard-on while feeling so pissed off.

She
cocked her head at him.
“A revenant?
It looked like a
vampire to me. And no one else I know, except my mother, even knows they
exist.” She shrugged.
“And of course, Linda and her
boyfriend, after what happened in the woods.”