Twisted (6 page)

“Okay, enough.” Riley strode to the bed, grabbed the human, and jerked her away from him. “Leave,” the wolf told the girl.

“I…I…” She swayed. “Yes, of course.” Then footsteps sounded, the slam of a door.

“Victoria.” When the wolf stretched a hand out to the vampire, Aden jumped to his feet and moved between them, preventing contact. An instinctive urge to protect what was his.

“Are you thinking to fight me or her?” Riley asked, seemingly unconcerned by either choice.

“Neither.” Both. He might not like Victoria, but he still wanted her. He didn't want anyone else to have her. The impulse…the two needs…warring…what the hell was wrong with him? He was like two different people.

“O-kay. Why are your claws out?”

Claws? Aden looked down, and sure enough, his nails had lengthened and sharpened, little daggers tipping his fingers. He should be freaked out but could only lift his hands to the light, studying this newest development. “How is this possible?”

Riley blew out a breath and said, “Either you're changing into a vampire slowly, one modification at a time, or you're the first human-vamp hybrid. To my
knowledge. Now, are you going to back off or do I have to make you?”

A little bark of amusement escaped him. Little, yes, but amusement all the same. “You could try.”

Clearly not the response the wolf had expected. He blinked, shook his head. “Look, we'll come back to the male pissing contest in a second. There's something wrong with you, and I don't know how deep the problem goes. So we're gonna have a little chat and find out.”

Behind him, Aden heard Victoria shift from one foot to the other. The fine hairs on the back of his neck lifted, his skin doing that tingling thing. He scowled. He was
that
aware of her? “There's nothing wrong with me. There, we talked. Now, gather my people in the great hall.”

The words echoed with threat, surprising Aden as much as they did Riley. Only recently had he accepted his right to rule, but never once had he thought of the vampires as “my people.” But they were, and now he had plenty to say to them. “There
is
something wrong with you, Aden,” Riley insisted. “You haven't even asked about Mary Ann. She's out there somewhere, on her own, perhaps in danger. Do you not care about her anymore?”

A flicker of emotion sparked in his chest, extinguished before he could figure out what it was. Or what it meant. “She'll be fine,” he said.

“Are you sure about that? Has Elijah told you?”

“Yes, I'm sure. And no, he hasn't.”

Hope bloomed and died in Riley's eyes. “Then how are you sure?”

Because he wanted to be, and in that moment Aden was certain he got what he wanted. Always. And if he didn't, he did whatever was necessary to change the circumstances.

Wait. Was that true? He couldn't think of a specific example, buuut…he simply
knew
. He shrugged. That was good enough for him. Maybe there
was
something wrong with him. Not that he cared about that, either, he realized. He would talk to his people, as planned.

“Perhaps you didn't hear me,” Aden said. “You've got some gathering to do.”

“Gather them yourself,
majesty
.” Riley huffed and puffed, his shoulders straightening, squaring. Aden's lips twitched in renewed humor, but he wasn't sure why that would be funny to him. “I'm going after Mary Ann. Victoria?”

“She stays,” Aden said, the words leaving him before
he could stop them. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, he wanted her with him.

“Victoria?” the wolf snapped.

“I did this to him,” she said softly. “I have to stay with him and make sure…you know.”

Aden didn't know what “you know” was, and he still didn't care. He was getting what he wanted: her presence. That was enough. For now.

Riley popped his jaw. “Very well. Keep your cell with you at all times, and call if you need anything. Anything at all. And I'll call you if I learn anything. Be careful.”

“Always.”

A stiff nod in Aden's direction, and then Riley was turning on his heel, marching away.

Aden didn't spare Victoria a glance and certainly didn't thank her. He wasn't one to say thanks, ever. Right? Even though the desire to do so sparked and died in the same place as that unnameable emotion for Mary Ann. He simply strode to the room's only window, a bay that opened on to a balcony, determined to call his people together on his own.

V
ICTORIA REMAINED IN PLACE AS
Aden stood on her balcony, doing nothing…waiting for…she wasn't sure. He wasn't “chatting with his people,” though. He was alone, barefoot and unconcerned by everything around him. Oh, and someone else's blood flowed in his veins. The knowledge irritated her when it should have delighted her. He was alive. He was awake.

She was still irritated. Despite everything, she wanted
her
blood in his veins.
Her
blood making him stronger.

Get over yourself already.
The open balcony doors let the chilled morning air inside the room, and she shivered. For the first time in her life, she would have welcomed a coat. Something, anything, to melt the frost practically glossing her exposed skin.

How was Aden not shivering? He was bare-chested, deliciously so. Rope after rope of muscle lined his
stomach and neatly patterned his back. Tragically, he wore jeans. Clean jeans, at least. She'd washed and changed him while he'd slept. And she hadn't looked at anything improper. Except for those two—
four
—times. Riley had been too distracted to ask about those sponge baths, for which she was grateful.

Looking where she shouldn't, how very human of her. Once, Aden would have been proud about that. Now…she had no idea what was going on inside his head or how he'd react to, well, anything. She knew only that Riley was right. Something was wrong with Aden. He wasn't himself. He was colder, harsher.

Challenging.

Vampires were all about tossing challenges at the weak and vulnerable. And the weak and vulnerable accepted those challenges or they endured an eternity of slavery by declining. Then, when they lost, they endured an eternity of slavery anyway. Difference was, by accepting and losing, they weren't teased and tormented, too.

Vlad had set the rules, of course. He despised weakness and cowardice, he'd claimed, and the challenges were a way to weed out the “unworthy.”

Did Aden plan to challenge everyone?

A movement in the sky captured her attention, and she watched a black bird soar past. The sun was hidden
behind gray clouds, and perhaps even a thick layer of glassy rime. The angels were ice-skating up there, her mother would have said.

Her mother. How Victoria missed her. For the past seven years, her mother had been locked away in Romania, a prisoner charged with sharing information about vampires with humans. Vlad had even forbidden his people from speaking her name. Edina the Swan.

Even thinking it gave Victoria a thrill. Rebellion was new to her.

Then, when Aden was dubbed the man in charge, he'd freed the woman at Victoria's behest. She had expected her mother to teleport to Crossroads so they could be together again. Only, Edina had decided to remain in her homeland.

As if Victoria wasn't important enough to bother with.

She wanted to be important to someone. And had been. To Aden. Since the first moment he'd spotted her, he'd made her feel special. Now…

Her stomach jumbled as she stepped beside him. His attention never strayed from the surrounding forest. Large oaks knifed toward that icy sky, a smattering of blood-red leaves hanging on for dear life. Mostly gnarled limbs stretched out and interlocked, as if the trees
were holding hands, bracing themselves for the coming winter.

She wanted to take
Aden
's hand but wasn't sure how he would react.

“I think you should travel back in time,” she said, breaking the silence. She'd given this some thought. If he traveled back to the night Tucker stabbed him, he could prevent all of this. Not just the stabbing, but her attempt to turn him. Their week of feeding, of nearly draining each other, their fighting, this…none of this would happen.

“No.”

That's it? That's all her intense pondering got? “No? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“But Aden, you can stop Tucker, once and for all.”

“Too many things could go wrong, and we don't know what would happen in the new reality. Could be far worse than this one.”

She doubted that. “There's only one way to know for sure.” Her new favorite phrase.

“No.”

So adamant. He couldn't
like
this reality. Could he?

“This is mine,” he said matter-of-factly, reminding her of her father.

All right, maybe he could. “Yes,” she said with a shudder.

His gaze moved to the ground below them, and hers followed, seeing the hidden stretch of land as he must. Bleak, yet fighting to survive. Not a single bloom colored the garden, but the bushes were yellow and orange. Ivy still clung to each trellis, though the leaves were light and brittle.

In the center of the yard was a large metal circle, a ward welded into the dirt, seemingly innocuous whirls intersecting through every inch. The metal could move and open, creating a platform that lowered into the crypt where her father had been buried.

Without a word, Aden climbed the balcony railing and straightened, his balance precarious at best.

“What are you doing? We're too many stories up. Come down! You—”

He stepped off.

A yelp escaped her as she bent over the rail, her heart stopping as she watched him fall…fall…land. He didn't splat or crumple as expected. He simply uncoiled from a crouch and walked out of the backyard, all liquid grace and lethal determination.

Victoria had done the same a thousand times before. Perhaps that was why she didn't hesitate to follow
him over. “Aden, wait!” Cold, biting air lifted her hair and robe.

As she tumbled toward the flat, hard surface, she remembered her new, human skin. She flailed, trying to claw her way back up. Then it was too late. She—

Hit.

Her knees vibrated from impact, and she collapsed, slamming into one of the ward's metal bars. During
that
impact, oxygen heaved from her lungs. Worse, her shoulder popped out of place and the agony nearly undid her. For hours—maybe just a few minutes—she lay panting, shivering from cold and shock, tears scalding her eyes and catching in her lashes. “Stupid, stupid,
stupid,
” she said through chattering teeth. Though the sun was hidden behind those clouds, though the air seemed layered with frost, her skin began to prickle as if she were close to reaching vampire maturity and burning.

What was wrong with her? Besides the thousand other things she'd been dealing with lately?

Footsteps reverberated, and suddenly she could scent Aden in the air. That amazing fragrance of—she sniffed, frowned. He smelled different. Still amazing, but different. Familiar. Like sandalwood and evergreen. A mystic
from long ago, yet coldly alive, and now as spicy as the human girl had been.

I will not let jealousy overtake me.

Victoria opened her eyes, unsure when she'd closed them. Aden was leaning down, spotlighted by rogue rays of light that had escaped their cloudy prison. His expression was as impassive as before. Dark hair fell over his eyes—eyes of startling violet.

Since she'd known him, she'd seen him with eyes of gold, green, brown, blue and black, but the violet had not appeared until their time in the cave.

When he reached out, she thought he meant to help her up. She offered him a small, waxen smile. “Thank you.”

“I would not thank me, if I were you.” He latched onto her shoulder, and sharp pain lashed through her.

“What do you—”

He forced the bone to pop back into place, and she discovered what true pain really was. A scream ripped from deep inside her. Birds took flight, probably desperate to escape the horrendous, ear-piercing sound.

“You're welcome,” he said, straightening.

She would take that to mean
I'm really truly very sorry I hurt you, my love.
“Next time—”

“There won't be a next time. You won't be jumping from the railing again. Promise me.”

“No, I—”

“Promise me,” he insisted.

“Stop cutting me off.”

“All right.”

When he offered nothing else, exasperating her, she rasped, “Why did you jump? You could have walked through the house to reach the bottom.” And saved her a panic attack and dislocated shoulder.

“This way was faster.” He pivoted on his heel and marched away. Again.

“Wait.”

He didn't wait.

Cursing under her breath, Victoria gathered enough strength to stand. Her knees trembled and nearly buckled, but she somehow found the will to remain upright. She trailed after Aden, feeling like a puppy on a leash. A bad puppy who didn't want to go on a walk and had to be dragged.

Aden never once glanced back to make sure she was okay or even to ascertain that she was there. He just didn't care, and that hurt worse than her shoulder, cutting at her insides, making her cringe. To him, she ei
ther followed or she didn't, and neither choice evoked emotion.

“Why do you want to talk to everyone?” she asked.

“A few things need to be straightened out.” He strode to the front of the house, up the porch steps and stopped at the towering, arched front doors. Few vampires were out and about at this time of day, even with the hazy milieu, but those who traipsed the grounds blinked in shock when they spotted him, then quickly bowed to show their respect.

A minute ticked by.

More minutes ticked by.

“Um, Aden. You have to walk through a door to enter a house. Standing here won't do anything.”

“I will. First, I'm surveying what's mine.”

Once again, he sounded like her father—or Dmitri, her former betrothed—and she chewed at the inside of her cheek in disgust. She hadn't been fond of either man.
Please, please let Aden return to his normal self when the pills wear off.

What would she do if he didn't?

She wouldn't think about that right now. She would just get through the day, help Aden conduct his meeting, for whatever reason, guarding him all the while, and then, later, if necessary, she would worry.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked, recalling the first time she'd brought him here. He'd taken one look at the Queen Anne–style mansion—the asymmetrical towers, the gothic stones and glasswork, the narrow windows with their prominent eave brackets sharpened to deadly points and the steeply pitched roofs, all painted a grim black—and grimaced.

“Yes.”

One-word answers were annoying, she decided.

Finally he pushed the double doors open and entered. His gaze swept the spacious foyer, taking in the black walls, the crimson carpet, the antique furniture polished to a perfect shine, and he frowned.

“I know the layout of this place. There are thirty bedrooms, most of them upstairs. There are twenty ornate fireplaces, several rooms with parquet floors, several with red sandstone, a great hall, a throne room and two dining rooms. But I've never seen more than this room, your bedroom and the backyard. How is that possible?”

Excellent question. “Maybe…maybe when we exchanged memories all those times, some of mine stuck.”

“Maybe.” He flicked her a blank glance. “Do you recall anything about me?”

Oh, yes. Mostly she remembered the beatings he'd
received in a few of the mental institutions he'd lived in—she wished to punish those responsible. She also remembered the isolation he'd endured in several of the foster homes he'd stayed in, the parents afraid of him but willing to take on his “care” for the paycheck that came with him. Not to mention the rejection he'd suffered time after time from peers who considered him too different to deal with. Too weird.

That was why she couldn't walk away from him now. No matter how distant or unlike himself he was, she wouldn't reject him.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Yes, I do.” She didn't tell him what, though. “Do you recall anything specific about me? Besides this home?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A memory could have sparked compassion. Compassion could have sparked a thousand other emotions, one of them reminding him of just how much he freaking
loved her
. Or maybe this was for the best. There were some things a girl didn't want her boyfriend to know about her.

“Wait,” he said, blinking. “I do remember something.”

Hope and dread battled for supremacy. “Yes?”

“When you first came to Crossroads, summoned here because of the supernatural blast Mary Ann and I inadvertently created, you spotted me from a distance and thought,
I should kill him
.” Ouch. See?
That
was one of those things. “First, I told you about that. Second, taken out of context, the thought seems worse than it was.”

“You mean a desire to kill me is a good thing when in context?”

Her teeth gnashed. “No, but you're forgetting how strange your pull was to us. We didn't know why you'd summoned us here, what you had planned for us, or if you were helping our enemy. We—”

“Enem
ies
.”

“What?”

“You don't have one, you have many. In fact, the only race you aren't at war with is the wolves, and they'd be fighting you, too, if they weren't so loyal by nature.”

Well, well. An emotion from him. Only, it wasn't one she'd wanted. He was disappointed. She didn't understand why. “You have no idea the things that have taken place between the races throughout the centuries. How could you? You've been living in your little humanity bubble, unaware of the creatures that stalk the night.”

“And yet I know alliances
can
be formed.”

“With who? The witches? They know we crave their blood and can't control our hunger in their presence. They would laugh in your face if you offered a truce. So who does that leave? The fairies? We feed off the humans they consider their children. They would wipe us out if they could. Don't forget the fairy prince you helped kill, and the fairy princess who then tried to kill you. What about the goblins? They are mindless beings, caring only about their next meal, which just so happens to be living flesh.
Our
flesh. Shall I go on?”