Faith Revisited (14 page)

Returning home already feeling like a failure, Bale had discovered Zeke was awake but recalled nothing about his attack—not what had happened to Caym, not if Raym was involved—

not a fucking thing.

And then to top off his already crap-filled night, he'd returned to his room to a very distant Faith. After everything else, he'd gone seeking comfort from the one individual whom he trusted he could show his vulnerability, and she'd refused to let him touch her. It had hurt—deeper than Bale would have ever expected. But he'd let her pull away. He'd had no choice. Chaining her to his bed was not an option. But Christ, he'd really wanted to.

He sighed when he spotted Zeke leaning against his bedroom door. The last thing he needed was his psyche examined. And he knew that was why Zeke was there. He'd noticed the way Zeke's lip had curled up in disgust when Bale had spoken of Faith. Zeke had known he was lying, but he had hoped the other male would understand. Apparently not.

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Bale looked Zeke over slowly. “You look like shit.”

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“I could say the same about you. You look like someone just killed your dog.”

“I don't have a dog.”

Zeke sighed. “You know what I mean, asshole.”

“Yeah.” Bale just hoped Zeke would take his hint and leave him the fuck alone. “Look, I'm tired.” He cursed softly when Zeke followed him into the room. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. Then he moved to the wardrobe and opened its doors. He pulled a six-inch blade from the waistband of his pants and set it inside the felt-covered drawer. Bale felt almost naked without the steel pressed against the small of his back.

“Me too. But since a certain female is not waiting for you to join her, I figure you can spare me a few minutes first.”

Bale pulled a GLOCK from the harness wrapped around his shoulders, unclipping the magazine before putting both pieces away. “Since when is my personal business fodder for the Grigori?”

“Since you looked me right in the eye and lied to me, Bale,” was Zeke's quiet reply.

“Jesus,” he barked, looking incredulously at Zeke. “I figured you would be smart enough to deduce the reason.”

“Kash is not your enemy.”

Bale threw his hands up in annoyance. “And you know this how?”

“I asked him.”

Wearily, Bale moved to the bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress. “You are sure?”

“Yes. I asked him point-blank if he was involved in your attack or mine and if he was involved with any demons. He told me the truth. He had nothing to do with any of it.”

Sighing, Bale watched as Zeke swayed on his feet. “Man, you should be in bed.”

Zeke waved away his statement. “I've been on my back for twenty-four hours. And as soon as Arak finds me, I'll find my ass right back in that bed. Give a guy a break.”

Bale grinned at Zeke's assessment. Arak could be an annoying mother hen when one of them was injured.

“So all that bullshit about your latest fuck was for Kash's benefit.”

Bale winced and was just glad Faith hadn't heard either of them describe her in such a fashion. She'd likely have ripped off his balls.

“You do understand that no one who knows you would seriously buy that crap anyway.”

Zeke folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow at Bale.

Bale was surprised by Zeke's statement and ran a hand wearily over his face. “Why's that?”

“Bale, come on. You haven't been with a female in centuries. If you were Arak, it would be a different story. But no one would believe you've given up your own self-imposed celibacy for a female who means nothing to you.”

Bale stared at Zeke a moment, his words sinking in. “Fuck!” He jumped to his feet, grabbed his coat, and strode to the door. “That means she's not safe.”

Zeke gripped his arm, stopping Bale from exiting the room. “If this is about keeping your female safe, then unless someone here at Castilla de la Tontos is still in touch with the traitor, she is.”

58

Madelyn Ford

Castle of Fools—Zeke had that right. “Penny knows about Faith.” Bale's stomach clenched at the thought that everything he had done to keep Faith safe was for naught. He had left her unprotected against the wolves.

“But does she have any idea how to find her? Does she even know Faith is not still safely ensconced here in your room?”

Bale let his hand fall from the doorknob and breathed a sigh of relief. “No. She took off last night and hasn't returned.”

“So Faith is still safe.” Zeke moved his firm grip to Bale's shoulder and squeezed softly.

“Now we just have to determine if we must terminate Penny or Raym. And then you can bring Faith home.”

Bale shook his head, pulling away from Zeke's support. Running a hand through his hair, he uttered, “This is only the latest in a lifetime of danger. She would never be safe here with me.

It is better this way.”

“She is a vampire, no? Do you really think she is safe anywhere? And didn't Arak tell me she tracks and kills demons for sport? Is there safety in that?”

Bale groaned. “I thought I would find support from
you
, at least.”

Zeke laughed. “You will always have my support, my brother. Whether you bring her back or leave her to fend for herself, I will back your decision.”

Bale snorted. “Yeah. Thanks a lot.”

Zeke grinned as he reached for the door. “Anytime.” He opened the door and paused just inside the threshold. “So when do I get to meet the female who has captured the first Grigori in centuries?”

Bale was saved having to respond when Arak's voice was heard from down the hallway.

“Zeke, what the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“Fuck,” Zeke mumbled under his breath, drawing a chuckle from Bale. Zeke glanced over his shoulder, glad to see Bale no longer looked as if the world had caved in around him. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, asshole. I'll remember this next time it's you. It won't be
me
sneaking you a Kilkenny under Mother's beady eyes.”

Bale grinned, remembering the time he'd been laid up and Zeke and Kash had smuggled in a six-pack of beer and
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
, then sneaked out the remnants of their evening before Arak had returned from hunting. He'd forgotten Kash's involvement in that bit of mischief and felt a pang of guilt for suspecting the other male.

“I heard that, dickweed,” Arak stated as he stepped toward the doorway. “And don't think I didn't know what you had done. You think I couldn't smell the alcohol on his breath? Anyway, Kash was three sheets to the wind. He can't keep a secret when he's shit-faced any more than you can keep from puking all over the interior of Bale's Viper.”

“Excuse me?” Bale questioned, an eyebrow arched as he stared at his two brothers.

“Fuck you too,” Zeke mumbled as he walked unsteadily from the room, knocking Arak out of his way as he passed him.

Bale followed, calling after his brother. “Did I hear correctly? Did you puke in my car?”

“Jesus,” Zeke mumbled. “It's a fucking car.”

“So you won't mind if I take the Charger for a spin?”

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59

Zeke turned and met Bale's gaze dead on. “Touch my baby, Bale, and I'll break your fucking neck.” He had painstakingly redone his 1967 Dodge Charger on his own after it had been totaled by a Rabisu demon in the late 1990s. Now if someone so much as breathed on the vehicle, Zeke went for the balls.

Bale snorted. “That's what I thought.” He met Arak's amused gaze; then the two males watched Zeke walk in what appeared to be a drunken swagger down the hall. When he'd disappeared from view, Bale felt Arak's concerned look land on him like a ton of bricks.

“You okay?”

Bale sighed. “What do you think?” He turned back to the room and pulled the black T-shirt over his head, then tossed it onto the chair.

“I think we'll probably be staking out the bar you said she manages.”

Bale chuckled drily. “You are already a regular.”

“Club Dominus?” Arak questioned in surprise. The Goth bar was a good place to pick up women who didn't raise a brow at all the leather and weapons the Grigori sported. And sometimes demons went there to blend in. Arak could work and play at the same time.

“Yeah,” Bale drawled.

“Well, that is damn convenient. I'm surprised I've never encountered her there before.”

Bale narrowed his gaze at his brother. “Considering you go there to fuck, that's not a wise thing to say to me now. Or ever.”

Arak grinned broadly. “Please. She's so not my type. Too damn sweet.”

Bale grunted as he sat and went to work on the ties of his boots. “Just remember that.”

“She'll be good for you, Bale.”

He grunted again as he dropped a boot on the floor beside its mate, then stood and began untying his pants. He glanced up to find Arak still watching him. “Get the hell out so I can get some sleep.”

Arak chuckled softly as he backed out of the room. “So, we're going tonight?”

Bale stilled with his fingers on the laces of his pants and looked up at Arak. “Yeah.” Then he kicked the door shut with his foot.

Bale stripped and collapsed on the bed, where he lay for a long time, thinking about Faith and hating that she was not beside him. He finally drifted to sleep, his arm curled around her pillow, pulling it into his chest.

60

Madelyn Ford

Chapter Seven

It had been fifteen hours, twenty-four minutes, and thirteen—Faith glanced at her watch—

no, fourteen seconds since she'd last seen Bale. Thankfully Mondays were slow, so she could hide away in her office the whole night. She sat behind her desk feeling melancholy, listening to

“Ball and Chain” by Social Distortion and trying to ignore how fitting the song's words were as they rang in her mind.

As the song ended and then immediately began again, her bartender, Prue, sank into the chair across the desk from her, propped her size 7 Doc Martens onto the flat surface next to her monitor, and while raising one pierced eyebrow, said, “Damn. What's your problem? If it's a man, just say the word. I'll gladly kill him for you.”

Faith glanced away from her game of solitaire and sighed. Prue would probably at least try.

“I don't think even
you
could accomplish that feat.”

Prue contemplated her in silence for a moment. As she pretended to examine her fingernails, she stated, “I know some people.”

Faith smiled at that. Prue probably did. Like most of the employees at Club Dominus, Prue was not human. What she was exactly, Faith still had not managed to unravel, other than she was a half-breed who had taken the whole Goth movement to the extreme. Her alabaster skin glowed against her long black tresses, black bustier, black lace skirt, and of course, her Doc Marten lace-up boots. The only spot of color to mar the all-black look was the bright red lipstick that shone on her lusciously full lips. Without the multiple piercings that graced her ears, eyebrows, and nose, and the tattoos on her shoulder, wrist, and God only knew where hidden beneath her clothing, Prue could have passed for a fashion model.

“Thanks for the offer, but it wouldn't help much.”

Prue's eyes widened. “Shit. You have just transfigured, and already you've found your mate, haven't you?”

Faith laughed, but it sounded bitter to her own ears. “You've got your species mixed up.

Shifters have mates, which I am not.”

Prue crossed her arms in front of her, which caused the bustier to rise and display the swell of her breasts nicely. “Are you sure?” She looked skeptical.

Faith rolled her eyes. “I'm sure. I have the fangs to prove it.” Needing to change the subject, she waved toward Prue's ample bosom. “And you should do that out front. You'll make decent tips even tonight.”

Prue glanced down at her chest. “You think?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well. Okay, then.” Prue rose to her feet, knowing she'd been politely told to go back to work. She paused with her hand on the doorknob and glanced back at Faith, her face lit with The Watchers: Faith Revisited

61

concern. “You should feed. You are giving off some seriously edgy shit. And I don't do females.”

Faith dropped her head in her hands as Prue shut the door behind her. Pheromones. It had been discovered about ten years ago that when a vampire needed to feed, he or she gave off pheromones similar to those a werewolf emitted once reaching his or her sexual prime. But Faith certainly did not feel any desire for blood. The thought of having to touch a human for sustenance left her feeling decidedly queasy.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered as she stood and, with great trepidation, exited her office.

The last thing her conscience wanted to examine was using her business as a feeding ground. She stepped up to the bar, debating whether feeding from one of her patrons was a good idea, when Prue's roommate, Tempy, leaned toward her and whistled.

“Damn, girl.”

“Shut up,” Faith mumbled.

Grinning, Prue leaned across the bar. “Told you.”

“I hate you both.” Faith glanced around the bar, looking for potential donors. On a normal night she was attractive enough, but she certainly never garnered the attention some of her female employees did. But tonight four men sitting at a table in the corner were definitely checking her out.

“You've got admirers,” Tempy said in an amused but hushed tone. She glanced in the direction of the table full of men. “Not bad. The blond is cute.”

“Does it really matter what he looks like?” Faith asked, disgusted with the prospect of what she was contemplating.

“I would think it would help. Do you really want to get that close to someone who is visually nauseating?”