Eternal (2 page)

“You are a sight for sore eyes.” He reached out as if to pull her against him. She found the strength and lurched back, leaving skid marks in the wet grass.

The look-but-don't-touch rule would stand firm.

He stepped toward her. His scent, part musk, part mint, invaded her air. He lifted his hand.

She sucked cold oxygen between her teeth before speaking. “Your eyes aren't the only thing that's going to be sore if you touch me!”

He held up both of his hands, a sign of submissiveness, but his sexy smile signaled trouble. She would not, could not, give in to these crazy feelings. How could she when part of her heart belonged to someone else?

“Fine, I'll keep my hands to myself.” He looked over her shoulder at the falls and then back at her. “But can't you see it's fate?”

A spray of sun shot through the trees and cast swirly shadows over his face. That's when she noticed the purple bruise under his eye. Considering vampires didn't bruise easily, that had to have been a hell of a lick.

“What's fate?” she asked, trying not to care that he'd been hit. Hurt. That he could have been killed.

Bonded.

“This,” he said, moving his hands between them.

“What's this?” she asked.

“Us.”

“Us what?”

“Us. Here.”

She glared at him. “Did you forget how to use complete sentences?” she smarted off.

He half chuckled. “Come on. Doesn't it seem strange that we were both lured here?” He shifted slightly and the precious gold light touched his face. His hair, wet from his trip through the falls, appeared almost black, and his eyes, a light golden green, almost glowed with the sun on them. But noting the bruise again, she felt a sympathy pain under her left eye.

She had to remember not to let herself get lost in those eyes—in emotions she couldn't explain.

“I wasn't lured.” Her heart danced around the mistruth as the sound of the cascading water hummed in the background. “I came here for a reason.” That much was true. She stiffened her shoulders.

“What reason?” he asked.

“To find answers. Answers that you aren't giving me.” Accusation rang in her tone. She pressed both her hands on her hips and stared up at him. Oddly, she'd forgotten how tall he was. He towered above her. She wasn't accustomed to feeling small or feminine, but his presence did that.

He tucked his hands in his jean pockets and tipped back on his heels. “What answers?”

She raised her chin and studied him, trying not to note the bruise or worry what he'd done to get it. “Who sent you to check on me and Chan?”

For a flicker of a second, he hesitated, then spoke, “I did answer that. The Vampire Council.” But the sneaky vamp looked away as soon as the words left his mouth. And she knew he always did that when he lied.

“That's bullshit,” she said. “You're still keeping something from me.”

He glanced back at her. “It's not a lie. I got my orders from the council.”

She studied him. This time he didn't blink or turn away. Did that mean he spoke the truth?

No, she didn't trust him. If he could learn to control his heartbeat when he lied—and he'd admitted he could do that—then he could learn to control his facial reactions. Surely by now he'd figured out why she constantly challenged his word.

“Did they also order you to let Chan die?” The moment the question left her lips, she felt her resolve strengthen. It didn't matter that her strength came from her own guilt—she'd take it.

Chase inhaled and looked down at the ground, shifting the tip of his right boot into the wet earth. When he looked back up, she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

“No. Letting Chan face the rebirth on his own was my decision. I told you, I didn't think he would survive, and if I'd tried to save him, I wouldn't have been able to save you.”

“Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” Her throat tightened. To save her, he'd let Chan die.

His shoulders lowered half an inch. Refocusing on his gaze, she spotted empathy in his eyes.

She hated empathy. It ranked right up there with pity.

She turned to leave. He grabbed her. Gently.

His thumb moved in small circles over her elbow. “I'm sorry. But I'm not responsible for his death any more than you are. We didn't make this happen. And I did what I thought was right. It wasn't easy for me, either. I liked Chan. But he was just too weak.”

Her skin tingled where the tips of his fingers moved. Remembering her no-touch rule, she shook off his hand. “Which is exactly why you should have helped him. If two people are in a river, you save the one who can't swim.”

“And let you drown?” he asked.

“I might have made it through the rebirth. Burnett did.” The second the words left her mouth, she worried Chase didn't know Burnett was a Reborn, but his lack of surprise put her at ease.

A frown tightened the corners of Chase's eyes. “Burnett's an exception. Less than three percent of Reborns live. The odds weren't in your favor.”

“I would have taken those odds if I'd been given a choice. But I wasn't. You didn't even tell me Chan was dead and you knew. You kept this whole Reborn thing and your being here to help me to yourself. And why? Because you knew I'd be opposed to it.”

He kicked at a rock on the ground. The pebble soared through the air and hit a tree with a dead thump. “So I'm the bad guy for wanting to save your life?”

She leaned in. “You're the bad guy for not being up-front. And you're still doing it.”

His mouth tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay. I didn't tell you everything. Be mad at me for that. But you can't just ignore me or the fact that we're bonded. You feel it. I feel it. You can't deny it.”

“Watch me. I'm good at denying shit!” She seethed and darted around him to start back.

“God, you're stubborn!” he called out, then again appeared in front of her.

She came to an abrupt stop, slamming her hands on his chest to stop from falling face forward. He caught her by the waist. Gently. His touch sent her heart racing this time.

“Either tell me the truth or leave,” she said, stepping out of his embrace. It was her last ultimatum. “Who are you working with besides the Vampire Council, and don't tell me no one, because my bullshit detector goes off every time you tell me that.”

 

Chapter Two

Chase stood there, staring at her. She wished she could read his mind.

Della's patience finally snapped. “Leave! If Burnett finds you, he'll…” Then it occurred to her that Burnett should have already found him. The alarm would have gone off. Why wasn't the camp leader already here giving Chase hell and interrogating him? Something was up.

Chase's expression of confidence confirmed it. “He knows I'm here. I had a meeting with him.” Honesty deepened Chase's voice.

She tried not to let her disappointment show, but her expression tightened. Was Burnett in cahoots with Chase again? Hadn't he been just as pissed as she was when he'd packed up his shit and disappeared?

“When we were done, I asked to come to the falls. I told him I kept hearing it.” Chase shrugged. “Burnett's only rule was to not go near your cabin, and I didn't.” He shrugged, almost guiltily. “Not yet, anyway. But I probably would have before I left. I needed to see you. He can get furious at me if he wants.”

He took one step closer.

She took one step back. “Why were you meeting with Burnett?”

“The council sent me back.”

“Sent you about what?” she asked.

He didn't answer.

Tired of playing games, she darted around him in a dead run, her only goal to get away from him—away from the temptation to lean against him, to find out what this bonding really meant. Or if it meant nothing, she thought, wanting that to be true.

This time he didn't follow. Good, she thought, ducking under tree limbs, moving fast. That's what she wanted. So why didn't she feel victorious? Why was she now hearing the falls louder? Was it the falls luring her? Or Chase?

They sent him about you.
The words rang out.

She came to a sudden stop.

Where had the damn voice come from? She stood there, cutting her eyes east to west, then back again.

Did you hear me?

This time she knew the words hadn't come from her left or her right. They had come from within her. She recalled hearing similar internal voices. Chan? But he'd crossed over, hadn't he? She'd been sure of it. Or was he waiting until the FRU, Fallen Research Unit team—the FBI in charge of supernaturals—released his body and buried him.

You listening?

Yes, I am,
Della answered, realizing the voice was female.

“Lorraine?” Della whispered the name of the murdered girl, the last spirit she'd heard in her head.

Yet hadn't Holiday assured her that Lorraine had moved on, crossed over?

So who the hell was this?

Did Della have another ghost hanging around?

“Crap!” she muttered.

Did you hear me?
the voice repeated, as if taunting her.

“I wish I didn't.” Della's heart thumped against her chest. She fought the panic swelling inside her. Inhaling, she tried to find a sense of calm. She'd done the ghost thing. First, communicating with Chan, then with Lorraine. It shouldn't freak her out.

Who was she kidding? Communicating with spirits was a rare talent, one that freaked out most supernaturals. And she was no different. Adrenaline chased goose bumps up and down her spine and then all the way down to her toes, which she curled in her boots.

The Vampire Council sent him about you,
the voice repeated.
Aren't you curious?

For the first time, she really heard what the voice said. “What does the Vampire Council want with me?” She posed her question aloud. And just like that, her fear was replaced with …

Hell yeah, I'm curious
. It had to be about her uncle, damn it!

She swung around and started back—fast. Moving at a dead run … but hoping the dead didn't come with her.

The sound of her boots hitting the wet earth filled her ears and played like background music to the rush of the falls. As she neared, she saw Chase's figure disappear behind the wall of water.

Or, at least she thought it was him. In reality, it could have been anyone.

She didn't care. Curiosity and something else … something she couldn't explain, propelled her forward.

Bonded
. The word echoed in her heart as an explanation, but she refused to believe it.

She kept running, her feet splashing through the stream. Her face hit the curtain of water—cool, but not cold. It spilled over her face, down her shoulders, soaking her clothes. The second she got on the other side, she saw nothing. A cave-like darkness swallowed her. She blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust.

One second.

Two.

No light. Nothing. Even the sound of the falls had been yanked away.

Something wasn't right.

 

Chapter Three

Trapped. Claustrophobic. Hungry. She sat on the cold ground.

Emotions whooshed through Della like a fire chasing kerosene. Then she heard it. Breathing.

In.

Out.

Air being pulled into another set of lungs.

She remembered she wasn't alone.

“Chase?” she whispered his name, but even as she said it, she knew it wasn't him.

It was Liam.

But who the hell was Liam? She didn't know any Liam, so how did she know his name? Her heart thumped a little faster and she tasted blood on her tongue.

Mo fo! What the hell was happening?

“You okay?” a voice asked, Liam's voice.

“No,” Della said.
I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind.

“Here. Drink some more.”

She smelled another vamp. Liam was a vamp. But she'd already known that. How could she know and not know something at the same time? An arm, a strong limb of flesh and blood, came against her mouth.

“Go ahead, drink a little more.”

Knees pulled up to her chest, her empty stomach clenched as she realized what he was offering. Vampires didn't drink another vamp's blood. At least not the ones she knew.

“No.” Della pushed the arm away, but as she moved the limb, her fingertips touched tiny wounds … wounds that felt like teeth marks.

When she rested her arm on her bare knee, she felt the same tiny wounds on her wrist.

“Do it, Natasha. Come on, I'm fine.” His arm came against her mouth again, and she gently moved it away, holding on to him a second longer than necessary, needing the contact.

She started to tell him she wasn't Natasha, but it would have been a lie. She was Natasha. Somehow, someway, she was inside Natasha. Then she remembered this happening before, with Lorraine. But Lorraine was dead. Were these two … She blinked and tried to make out her surroundings. Only darkness filled her vision.

She was locked in a dark, dank place that smelled like wet dirt with a boy named Liam. The tangy taste of blood lingered on her lips. Then the realization hit. They weren't dead. Didn't feel dead. They were actually trying to survive. And to do it, Liam and Natasha were feeding off each other.

“Seriously, I'm fine,” Liam repeated.

“I'm not hungry,” she lied. She barely noted the skip of her heart, listening to the sound of her voice. Not Della's voice. Natasha's voice.

Who was Natasha?

Panic started to swell inside her chest. She buried her nails in the wet earth she sat on, and almost cried out from the pain. Obviously, she'd already tried to claw her way out.

And it hadn't worked.

They couldn't continue to feed off each other. She and Liam were going to die.