Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout
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he didn’t. I can handle myself,” I said.
“You don’t know what he’s like!” Nathan yelled as he put a display of candles in order.
I hoped he broke every damned one of them. “And you do?”
“Yes!” He turned to face me, a handful of orange candles still in his hand. “He’s capable of things you can’t imagine. Things you wouldn’t want to know.”
“He’s a killer. It’s in our blood to be killers. It says so in your freaking vampire bible!”
“Is it in our blood to torture? To maim? Is it in his blood to prey on the weak and exploit kids like Ziggy? Because I’ve got the same blood in my veins that he does, and I’ve never had the urge to rape and murder a sixteen-year-old girl!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Cyrus was definitely evil. In the short time I’d known him I’d heard him refer to humans as pets and seen him casually feast on a corpse as though it were a fine cut of beef. But I knew myself, and I would never have been so attracted to someone capable of such a heinous act. “He couldn’t have done that.”
“Are you so sure? Because it was on the last order. I’ve got a newspaper clipping about her disappearance upstairs. He was awfully proud of her. Apparently, the fun for him is in killing the girls as he’s violating them. He likes to watch them die while he’s inside them.”
Nathan’s description of the obscene act made my stomach churn. I covered my mouth with my hand. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“No, you want to experience it for yourself.” He exhaled noisily. “But you go ahead and do what you want.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“Hey, I really don’t care. Apparently, nothing I say is going to matter.” He went back to his candles.
His calm fed my growing anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means no matter what I say, you’re going to do what you damn well please.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” I shuffled the artfully arranged cards into a single pile on the tabletop. “The only words out of your mouth are ‘don’t do that, Carrie,’ and ‘it’s dangerous, Carrie’ and ‘I’ll kill you, Carrie,’ but you never tell me why!”
“I dispense information on a need-to-know basis!”
“You sound like my goddamned father!” I shouted, stamping my foot.
Nathan made an exasperated sound and threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“If I ask questions, you get all evasive. You don’t want to share anything about your life, but you seem to want me to just blindly trust that you know what’s best for me.” I pointed at him. “How do I know you’re not just as dangerous as Cyrus?”
He stepped so close to me that our shoes touched. “Oh, believe me, I’m the most dangerous thing in this room right now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, and you’re about to see just how dangerous.”
I tilted my head so I could look him in the eye. “Is that a threat?”
“You tell me.” His breath was cold on my face.
We glared at each other in silence, tension dancing between us like a ballerina with a broken leg. I don’t think I’d ever been more infuriated.
He turned away, but neither of us had spent our anger. This was merely the eye of the storm.
He faced me again, his arms folded across his chest. “Fine. Prove to me you can take care of yourself.”
I hesitated. “What?”
“Attack me.”
“You’re not serious.” I laughed.
“The hell I’m not!” He stepped back and braced himself for a fight. “I’m angry at you. You’re angry at me, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m not about to indulge in mindless violence with a vampire.”
“Would it be better if I was a human?” He rolled his eyes. “This will work out some of that aggression. And you can prove to me that you can stand up to Cyrus. It’s a win-win situation. Besides, right now, I’d really like to kick your ass.”
“Kick my—” My mouth dropped open as I sputtered in resentment. “Oh, I’m going to put the hurt on you so bad!”
I charged him with no specific plan of attack. My shoulder collided with his midsection. He tumbled backward, and I fell to the floor on top of him. We upended the table on the way down, tarot cards fluttering around us as we struggled.
My flying hair and our flailing limbs obscured my vision. I swung at him blindly. Pain reverberated down my arm as my fist connected with his jaw.
Nathan pinned one arm behind me and rolled me onto my back. The hard floorboards bit into my knuckles, and I arched my back to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately, this motion pushed my breasts against his chest, and it was more than a little arousing.
I used my free hand to yank his hair, pulling as hard as I could. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing brutally, and I released my grip. He forced my arm above my head and held it to the floor.
The anger between us dissipated, abandoning us with only the raw, primal sound of our heavy breathing. I stopped struggling the same time Nathan loosened his grip. Painfully aware of how close our bodies were, I looked into his eyes.
He pressed his hips against mine. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected.
“You suck at fighting,” he rasped. He leaned forward, his mouth a millimeter from mine. I closed my eyes and tried to stop my body from trembling. His breath teased my lips, and I shivered.
The bells above the shop door chimed. Nathan sprang to his feet, using a book from the nearest table as a shield to hide his obvious state of arousal. I rose clumsily beside him and hoped I didn’t look too flushed.
The customer who entered was about fifty years old and had long, graying hair. She looked us over with knowing brown eyes. “I’ve come at a bad time. I’ll be back later.” She gave the overturned table and scattered merchandise a pointed glance before turning toward the door.
“No, no.” Nathan reached down to right the table. “What can I help you with tonight, Deb?”
The woman looked from him to me with an expression of uncertainty. I coughed and smiled, trying—quite unsuccessfully—to hide the guilt written all over my face.
At Nathan’s urging, the customer rattled off a long list of ingredients she needed to make a protection charm. He directed her to the herb pantry at the back of the shop and promised he’d be with her in a moment.
“Deb is a regular,” he explained, almost apologetically. “You might as well go upstairs.”
“Not to my apartment?” I asked hopefully.
He stared at the ground. “Yeah, I was meaning to tell you about that.”
“It’s completely gone.” I could tell by the look on his face.
He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Carrie.”
I went to Nathan’s apartment, my head still spinning. What had I been thinking? I’d met this man just over a week ago, and now I was rolling around on the floor with him. And after his tall, dark and surly act. Had I really become the wilting Southern-belle type, just waiting for a big, brooding Rhett Butler to come and dominate me?
I wandered around, absentmindedly picking up clothes strewn around the living room. Once the dirty laundry was folded, I moved on to the coffee table.
I straightened