The Better to Eat You With: The Red Journals (19 page)

His eyes
sparkled. “Touché,” he murmured, just as a faint knock came from the door.

Vincent
rose and moved for the door, and I just then noticed he was barefoot. I tilted
my head as my eyes travelled up his long, muscular legs to his nicely packed
backside. He was built very much like Vampires when they turned, becoming the
perfect hunter in every sense of the word. But where the vampiric virus alters
its hosts appearance to maximum effect, Weres—whatever their alternate species—were
honed from the turn to be at their peak. Weres did not live forever, but they
lived an elongated lifetime, and were a bitch and a half to kill. I knew from
experience.

A man in
a crisp white shirt with two strips of gold piping around his cuffs wheeled in a
trolley laden with food. He smiled openly at me as I took in his clean uniform,
smooth young face, the shine in his shoes and the smart crease down his black
pants. He set all the covered dishes on the table with a swift, friendly
efficiency, and Vincent tipped him handsomely. The man beamed, dark eyes
sparkling, bowed to both of us and left silently.

It
happened so quickly and competently that I just sat there blinking at the door.

Vincent
reclaimed his seat as I murmured, “I should start staying in more expensive
hotels.”

“Why?” he
asked, removing the covers and setting them on the trolley. “You’re a bounty
hunter. All you do is sleep in the bed. What more do you need?”

Exactly!
My inner hunter
proclaimed. However, the inner
girl
in me was like,
nothing wrong
with a bit of pamper after a hard days’ work.

I arched
a brow at Vincent, thinking how unlike Felix he was. “An unlimited supply of
food would be nice,” I said, turning to the table. “How do you want do this? Before
I eat or during?”

“I’m
starved, so how about during?” he replied, turning his plate of steak, fries
and fresh salad this way and that.

I reached
for my plate cover, eyeing the buttered new potatoes, garlic asparagus and all
the dips that I was so-o-o dipping my fries in. “If you don’t mind sitting
across from a washing machine then…” My breath caught as I lifted the cover and
my eyes zeroed in on the plump, juicy grilled fillet of steak just oozing
deliciousness. It was massive, taking up more plate than the fries and salad
combined. Stretching without taking my eyes off the meat, I plopped my cover on
the trolley and took up my cutlery.

“Ask away,”
I said, not caring that I’d be talking with my mouth full and that he’d be
seeing. I wasn’t going to wait to eat this. I was going to savor.

With a
soft smile, Vincent dug into his own steak. After a couple mouthfuls of food,
he sipped from a glass of water and said, “I want you to tell me about the
night you were bitten.”

The food instantly
went stale in my mouth.

“Why?” I
asked, my voice raw as I sat stiff in my seat, my stomach in my DC’s.

“Because
of your reputation as a wolf-killer,” he replied with a shrug.

I
methodically chewed a fry, refusing to show how much the very idea of re-living
that night was making me want to blow chunks right in his nosy damn face. “I
kill Wolves, I kill Vampires, and I kill Fairies, Pixies, Witches and Warlocks.”
I shrugged. “It’s part of my job.”

Vince was
shaking his head at ‘I kill fairies’. “I want to hear the story from you and
see your face as you tell it. I want to know if you are a danger in my
territory.”

“And what
if I turn out to be a danger?” I asked, a hollow feeling starting to well up in
my chest.
I didn’t need this. I was perfectly happy in my anonymity. Why did
I have to go and give it all up for a damn handshake? I want to go home. I want
to go home and sleep in my bed and eat my food and watch my TV.

“Then you
die.”

All my
breath left me in a pained gasp, and my eyes started to burn. My cutlery lay
forgotten with my steak as I slumped back in my chair. “But I never did
anything to you,” I protested softly. “I never did anything to anyone. It’s
just a job.”

God,
it was just a job.

“Red.”

My eyes
lifted to his at the sound of his voice. His face was blurred.

“Just
tell me how you were bitten.”

“But I’ve
never told anyone,” I said, my arms going around my middle as if that would
stop me throwing up barely digested steak and fries.

“And I‘m
the only one you’ll have to tell it to.” His voice was soft, but his eyes were
intent.

Vincent
was leaning back in his chair, watching me with a stillness that made me feel
like a doe in a clearing, ears twitching for the beast I couldn’t see. I
swallowed the lump in my throat several times before I was able to voice my
thoughts.

“I’d only
been home an hour or so when Glenn came through the door covered in blood,” I
whispered, staring into Vince’s eyes but not seeing. I could still see Glenn’s
face, as if it were yesterday. How pale his skin was against the rich red of
his blood.

“Who is
Glenn?” Vincent asked softly.

I
swallowed the lump in my throat. “My husband.”

“You were
married?”

“Yes. For
three years.” I looked away from his face and down at my hands, clenched in my
lap. “I was making dinner. Rabbit pie. It was Glenn’s favorite. And I thought a
warm, hearty meal would please him after his day in the snow. I was…”

I
can’t say it. I’ll never tell him that.

“I heard
a noise outside, and was just going to the door when Glenn came in. His hand
was on his neck, and for a moment, I couldn’t understand what all the red stuff
was.” I gave a bitter laugh, a part of me mourning the innocent, foolish girl
I’d been. “His throat had been ripped out.”

So
much blood…

“But the
wolf wasn’t done playing with him. Right in front of my eyes it grabbed my
husband by the back of the shirt—a shirt I’d made and flung him outside into
the snow.” There had been a ten foot streak of blood that I still see to this
day with a clarity born of horror, whether my eyes are open or closed.

“Why was
the wolf there?” Vincent asked, breaking me out of my memory.

I looked
at him. “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “We’d always had problems with wolves
in the winter, scavenging through the village for food, but they’d never harmed
people.”

“What did
you do?” He shifted slightly, resting one ankle on the opposite knee, rubbing
his stubbly chin with one hand.

“I did
the foolish thing.” I snorted derisively at myself. What could a mortal girl do
against a wolf twice her weight? But I loved Glenn, and the beast was hurting
him. Rational thought didn’t stand a chance against heart-stopping fear and
fury. “I grabbed Glenn’s axe and ran out after it.”

Vince
twitched. “Axe?”

“Glenn
was a woodcutter, and he was named so. Glenn Cutter. He and a group of the
village men used to go out and fell trees for firewood and furniture.” I felt
my lips shift into a soft smile. “He used to carve me forest creatures when I
was little.”

His hands
had been rough, but the way he would carve and mold the wood with his whittling
knife used to captivate me. His brow would furrow in concentration, and he’d
sit there staring into space while his hands worked and a pile of wood curls
formed between his feet. I’d sit by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, my eyes
caressing his strong, bearded jaw and wind-wild hair curling around his cheeks.

“Did you
kill the wolf?” Vincent asked, and my small smile faded, my memories once again
awash with blood and my chest tight.

I blinked
back the burning in my eyes. “No,” I breathed. “I never had a chance.” I pulled
my knees up and wrapped my arms tightly around them. “The axe was too heavy for
me. All I could do was swing it with no particular target. The wolf ran off
before I got to it, and while I ran for Glenn, he hit me from the side.” The
impact had knocked every last bit of air from my lungs, and the pain of landing
had ricocheted up my spine with enough force to make me scream. “He knocked me
to the ground with his teeth in my shoulder. He bit down hard, sinking every
last tooth he had into me, pinning me to the snow.”

“He was
trying to tell you to stay down.”

“If he
was trying to tell me to stay down, he could have done it without embedding
every goddamned one of his teeth in me. I mean, really?” I snorted, my sneer as
twisted as my rage. “He just ripped out my husband’s throat, and he expected me
to be submissive?” I shook my head. “No. When he released me, I could feel my
life flowing out of me along with my blood. I lay there shivering in the snow,
staring up at a full moon, slowly bleeding to death.” My eyes blurred again,
and I swiped angrily at a tear that had the audacity to burn down my cheek.

“Something
else was there, wasn’t it?” Vincent asked. I stared at him, raising my chin. His
features hardened. “Wasn’t it?”

I
flinched at the brutal command in his voice.

“Yes.” I
whispered. “Black hair, pale skin, a voice as rich as wine and as smooth as
honey.” I gritted my teeth. “He bit me too, feeding on the blood weeping from
the wolf’s bite. He fed me his blood when I was too weak to act on my disgust
to refuse him. All the strength I had left went into lifting the axe and
ramming it into his face. He’d staggered back, cursing words I didn’t
understand. My husband was dead, and I was soon to follow. I didn’t want to
live without him.”

“He
turned you?” Vincent asked softly, and I exhaled a harsh breath, trying to
dislodge the weight in my heart and the lump in my throat all at once. It was a
wasted effort.

“I
blacked out. When I came to, I was still lying in the snow, blood all around
me, and the sun was shining. Glenn and the wolf were gone. I assumed the wolf
had dragged Glenn off, but when I followed the bloody trail, it abruptly
stopped.” I glanced at Vincent and shrugged. “I never found his body; I never
got to bury him.”

The Alpha
was quiet for a time, for which I was grateful. He sat, taking in my retelling
of the worst night of my life with stoic calm, while I swallowed back tears and
tried to push the memories back into the box they’d been locked in for three
centuries.

“When did
you know you’d changed?”

I
flinched at the sound of Vince’s voice, and I had to clear my throat to speak.
“Two nights later,” I replied, not elaborating.

He
nodded. “When did you discover you were a hybrid?”

“The
first and only time I killed a mortal by drinking his blood. Before that, all
it was, was just teeth and claws.”

I don’t
remember much about that night, not like the night when I was bitten. That
crystal clarity escaped my first feeding. The only thing I remember is the
rich, exotic taste of warm blood and the filling relief settling in my stomach.
I hadn’t drunk blood since. Well…until Felix. But he wasn’t mortal.

“Have you
ever fully shifted?” Vince enquired, and I shook my head. “We always believed
Red Riding Hood was a Werewolf,” he continued questioningly.

Feeling
the emotional rollercoaster was moving on, I settled more comfortably into my
seat, relaxing. “I tend to suppress the more obvious Vampire traits when I
work.”

“Such
as?”

“The
golden gaze, the bloodlust, the grace.”

Comprehension
sharpened his gaze. “The way you moved in Ozzy’s foyer.”

I cleared
my throat, blushing a little. “Comes in handy.”

“What
about your wolf?”

“Good
senses. Instinct.” I shrugged. “It’s why I’m a good hunter.”

He
nodded, the curling ends of his blonde hair swinging with the motion. He sat
quietly for the moment, then suddenly jerked forward, grabbed the bottom of my
chair, and wrenched me closer. I squeaked, eyes wide, gripping the arms of the
chair.

“What are
you doing?” I squawked as he took my ankle and pulled off my shoe.

“Technical
term.” He grinned, pulling my stripy two-toned green sock off and tossing it
after my DC. “I’m gentling you.”

“No!” I
jerked my foot away, but he easily recaptured it.
Jeez, his hands look huge
on my small feet.

“Yes.” He
drew out the word as if admonishing a petulant child.

My nose
wrinkled in another scowl. “Don’t touch me, Cujo.”

His
head-tilted as his eyes narrowed. “Keep name-calling, darlin’.” He leaned
forward, voice dropping, “I dare ya.”

I
bristled. “Flee-ridden—“

“Jumped-up—“

“—Tick-infested—“

“—Little
brat—“

“—Worm-filled—“

“—Spoilt
madam—“

“—Over-grown—“

“—Who
desperately needs to get laid—“

“—
Dog!
”

“—Just to
loosen up!”

I tried
to yank my foot back as my jaw dropped in indignation. “Excuse me? I don’t need—oohhnmmm…”
I slumped in my chair as the big, bad Alpha dug his thumbs in and pushed them
firmly up the arch of my foot. A satisfied grin spread across his face.