Scarlet Heat (Born to Darkness) (32 page)

My gut twisted with apprehension when I imagined
facing her again, begging her forgiveness for what I had done. But I had to do
it—I couldn’t just let her starve.

I was about to throw on some clothes when I
caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was a fucking mess. Bites,
scratches, blood…I basically looked as fucked up on the outside as I felt on
the inside.

Reluctantly, I decided to take a shower before I
left even though I really didn’t want to. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to
take the time, it was the fact that I would be washing Taylor’s scent off my
skin. And the new scent too—the scent we had made together when I had come
inside her.

The memory of doing that, of pushing deep into
her pussy and filling her with my cum, sent a shiver of longing down my spine.
The feel of her, that sensation of tight, hot velvet squeezing me…

Then I remembered the look in her eyes when she
came to and realized what had just happened. The shiver of desire was quickly
replaced with a shutter of self-loathing. God, I was a shit. How could I hate
myself so much for hurting her and still want to do it again?

“Fucking asshole,” I muttered angrily as I
stepped into the shower and turned the water to the hottest possible setting. I
didn’t deserve to wear Taylor’s scent or bear her marks on my neck. Not
anymore.

My heart was heavy as I scrubbed her warm, sweet
feminine smell from my skin and even heavier as I imagined the wounded,
frightened look in her eyes when I showed up on her front step again.

But all the same, I couldn't stop wanting to see
her. Even if I could never have her ever again, I couldn’t help myself.

I loved her.

* * * * *

Taylor

I hated lying to Addison but I was sure if I told
her what I had in mind, she would try to stop me. And I couldn’t let her do
that—couldn’t let anyone stop me from doing the right thing.

I took a quick shower and changed my clothes.
Though it hurt me to wash Victor’s scent off my skin, I had to look more
presentable. I wound up wearing a clean pair of jeans and a blue button-up
Henley shirt I found in Addison’s closet. I vaguely remembered buying it years
ago when we’d had a little extra money and had gone on a shopping spree to Old
Navy.
Good times, gone forever
. Well,
at least it still fit.

The spare keys to Addison’s Focus were where she
always left them, in the back of the junk drawer in the kitchen. As I got into
her little car, I realized I had left my cell phone inside the house. I started
to go get it, looked at my watch, and decided I didn’t have time.

I don’t need it. I’ll be gone and back before anyone knows it,
I promised myself. After all, how long could my errand take? Not too
long, I hoped.

I found my way back to Gwendolyn’s house in Ybor City
without too much trouble and was relieved to see lights on in the front room
despite the late hour. I parked in front and walked up the path to the neat
little yellow house.

Gwendolyn answered on the second knock, looking
surprisingly un-Goth for once. Every other time I had seen her she’d been
wearing heavy black eye-liner, elaborate mystical looking fingernail polish and
a lip ring. This time her creamy
café au
lait
skin was scrubbed clean of makeup and her long black hair was pulled
back in a ponytail. Her lovely sculpted nails were painted clear and she was
wearing pink and white Hello Kitty pajamas. Other than the lip ring, which
still remained, she looked like an innocent little girl getting ready for bed.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said when she opened the
door. “What do you want this time of night?” Before I could speak she held up a
hand to stop me. “Wait, you’re a vampire. Of
course
you’re up at night.” She yawned. “Sorry, it’s been a long
day.”

“Can I come in?” I said, crossing my arms over my
chest.

“If you make it quick. This is supposed to be my
early night.” She opened the door wider and motioned at me.

“I’m sorry to bother you—I can see you’re ready
for bed,” I said, following her into the living room and sitting on the faded
floral couch where Victor and I had sat together just a few weeks ago. Remembering
that made a lump form in my throat and I had to swallow hard to keep from
crying.

“That’s okay.” She waved a hand at me. “I never
go to bed much before one anyway. No big deal.”

“You look, uh, different tonight,” I said. “I
mean, than the last two times I’ve seen you.”

“Oh, the wicked witch look?” She laughed. “Yeah,
that’s mostly just for clients. They come to visit a witch, they want me to
look like someone who could cook up the perfect revenge spell for their nosey
neighbor or hex their pissy cubical mate at work.”

“Or summon demons from the other side,” I
offered, trying to smile.

Gwendolyn shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I
wouldn’t go
that
far. I mean there
are
lines no witch should cross. If she
wants to continue doing white magic, that is…”

“So the whole ‘I’m an evil, scary witch’ routine
is all an act?” I asked, frowning.

“Yup. Even the piercing.” She pulled the tiny
silver ring from her lush bottom lip and held it out in her palm. “See?
Clip-on. But I know you didn’t come here to talk about my fabulous witchy
fashion sense—you want to know who planted that trap on your man’s land, don’t
you?”

It had been so long since I even thought about
the trap that it caught me off guard.

“Uh, no,” I said. “That’s not actually why I’m
here at all.”

“Good,” Gwendolyn said. “Because I don’t know
yet. Although I am
very
close to
finding out. My discovery spell should be finished in a matter of hours.”

“Speaking of the trap though,” I said, trying to
keep my voice steady. “I had an…experience tonight with something like it. A…a
whip that had the same kind of
feel
about
it.”

She frowned. “You mean spelled? Cursed?”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “There was that same feeling
of…of evil intent. Malevolence almost. Do you think the same person who bought
the trap also got the whip made? Because if so, I think I know who did it.”

Gwendolyn nodded. “Sure. But they must have
plenty of money to spend and a good reason to want to get you if they can
afford to commission two cursed items in one month. Magic that dark doesn’t
come cheap.”

“She’s got plenty of money, all right,” I said,
thinking of LeeAnn and her slutty designer clothes and cute little car. “And
plenty of reason to hate me too.”

“So you know who it is?” she demanded. “Then what
am I running all these spells for?”

“I only put it all together tonight,” I said,
looking down at my hands. “She—the girl who did it—is probably really happy
right now. She got what she wanted—for Victor and me to be apart.”

“Oh, sweetie…” Gwendolyn, who had been in the
worn armchair across from me, came to sit on the couch beside me. “What
happened?” she asked, patting my arm. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I took a deep breath. “And I don’t
want to cry about it anymore, either. I just want…I need to make it right.”

“Make it right? How? You want me to work a
reconciliation spell or something? Because I have to tell you, my Grams is way
better at that kind of thing than I am and she’s out of town at a conference
right now.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I want you to break
it—break the blood-bond between Victor and me.”

“What?” Gwendolyn sat back on the couch and
frowned at me. “Breaking a blood-bond is serious business—dark magic. I don’t
do that.”

“Yes, you do,” I said levelly. “You made the
stake for Corbin and you’re disposing of the trap for Victor. You’ll do it—for
a price.”

She put a hand on her hip, looking pissed. “So
you think I’m for sale? Just like that?”

“I think I have something you want.” I held out a
wrist to her. “Blood. You asked for it last time but Victor wouldn’t let me
give it. This time I’m here by myself. Please, Gwendolyn, I need to get this
done. Victor and I…” I started to choke and forced myself to go on. “We…we
can’t be together anymore.”

“Well, crap…” She sighed. “Look, why don’t I pour
us both a glass of wine and we’ll talk about it? You can drink a little
bit—right?”

“Yes, but I’m not really thirsty right now,” I
said. Suddenly a craving hit me. “This may sound weird but do you have any
pickles? Dill ones?”

“
What
?”
She gave me an incredulous look. “Uh, did you really just ask me for dill
pickles?”

“Yeah.” I nodded apologetically. “I’m sorry, I
know that’s weird. I’ve been having these…cravings tonight.”

“Okay, well actually, we do have some.” She
motioned for me. “Come on into the kitchen.”

I followed her through the house into a
surprisingly large kitchen with yellow and white checkered curtains hanging in
the windows. A green ceramic frog with a dish scrubber in his mouth sat on the
side of the sink and a cheery red tea kettle was on the spotless white stove.
All together it looked like a completely normal kitchen—there was nothing
witchy about it at all except for a huge black pot hanging from the rack over
the oven. Gwendolyn saw me eyeing it and grinned.

“That’s Grams’ gumbo pot. She always says you
can’t make good authentic roux in anything but cast iron.”

“Oh,” I said. “I thought—”

“That we were hunched over the cauldron cackling
and brewing spells?” She arched an eyebrow at me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess there’s a lot about
witches I don’t know.”

“That’s okay—apparently there’s a lot about vamps
I
don’t know,” she said, opening a
spotless white refrigerator. She brought out a mason jar and held it up. “For
instance, I didn’t know you guys could eat pickles.”

“I didn’t either, until tonight,” I said, taking
the jar from her. I unscrewed the metal ring and pried up the lid. The sharp
scent of vinegar and dill assaulted my nostrils, making my mouth water. After
all the fast food I’d had that night, I shouldn’t be hungry again for hours.
But the smell of those pickles made my stomach growl like I hadn’t eaten in
years. “These smell delicious,” I said.

“They’re homemade. Grams still does her own
canning,” Gwendolyn said, handing me a fork. “Dig in.”

I speared a slice and stuck it in my mouth.

“Mmmm…”

“Glad you’re enjoying them,” Gwendolyn said
dryly. “So…does your sudden new appetite have anything to do with why you want
to leave your man?”

I nearly choked on a pickle.

“No,” I said, putting the jar down by the side of
the sink. “It’s…a long story. But we need to get away from each other. I need
to…need to set him free.”

“Set him free?” She frowned. “Free of what?”

“Of
me.”
I
took a deep breath, feeling like I was going to cry. “I did something tonight…something
I can never take back. Please don’t make me talk about it. I just…I need to
break the bond. Can you help me or not?”

“Well…” She crossed her arms over her chest and
looked down at her feet. I noticed that she was wearing white Hello Kitty
slippers with pink bows that matched her pajamas.

“Please,” I said again. “I’ll give you as much of
my blood as you want.”

“I don’t need all that much but I
do
need some and I haven’t had any luck
getting young vampire blood anywhere else.” She sighed. “All right, I’ll do
it—I’ll try to anyway. But it won’t be easy. There’s a certain herb I need that
only grows in the Shadow Lands—demon’s breath. It’s the only thing that can
break a blood-bond.”

“Do you have any of it?”

Gwendolyn shook her head. “No, and it’s not easy
to get either. I’ll have to go to the border to get it—come to think of it, I
can do it at the same time I dispose of the trap. That way I don’t have to go
twice. It’s not exactly a safe journey.”

My heart sank. “So…you can’t do it tonight?”

She frowned. “Geeze, you really want this done
badly, huh? No, if I had some demon’s breath I could, but I can’t get any
tonight. I’m not exactly dressed for a trip to the Great Barrier right now and
like I said, it’s a pretty damn dangerous trip.”

“Not if you have someone to accompany you.”

The smooth, deep voice made me jerk in my chair.
I looked up in time to see a tall man with pale skin and black hair leaning
against the kitchen doorway as casually as though he’d been in the other room
the whole time.

At second glance, I realized he was the same man
I’d seen the last time I had been in Gwendolyn’s house when I was trying to get
answers from her. He was tall—well over six feet—and had broad, muscular
shoulders that nearly filled the doorway. But his most striking feature was
definitely his eyes. In the shadows between the dark hallway and the warm
golden glow of the kitchen they looked red—ruby red.

“Laish…” Gwendolyn sounded exasperated.
“When
are you going to stop showing up
out of the blue like this?”