Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)(29)

“Guessing this isn’t the best time, hmmm?” Vincent murmured as he offered her a tight smile. “Perhaps we should chat later.”

“No!” Jane yelled.

The wolf growled.

“He wants to rip me apart, my dear,” Vincent said. “And if he comes at me, I will fight back.”

Dammit. Why couldn’t Vincent have arrived a few moments before Aidan? Jane bent low to Aidan’s ear. “Don’t do this, okay? I know you want to attack. I know…I just…we need him.” For the moment. “He knows more about vampires than anyone else. He might be able to help Paris.”

Doubtful but…maybe.

Jane looked up at Vincent. She made sure to keep a steady grip on Aidan. “There was a fire tonight,” she said.

“Um, that would be why you smell like ash.” Vincent shook his head. “I get that you’re still new to the whole vamp game, but here’s a tip…don’t run into a burning building. That’s a surefire way to end yourself.”

“Aidan was inside.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “Like I care about—”

The wolf jerked from Jane’s hold and lunged toward Vincent. The wolf took the vampire down, hard, and he put his front paws on Vincent’s chest to pin him against the floor. The wolf’s jaws were bared, hovering inches from Vincent’s throat and the thin, gold chain that circled his neck.

But Aidan wasn’t biting. Wasn’t ripping Vincent’s head off…yet.

“Aidan,” Jane spoke quickly, sharply. “Aidan, I know you’re in there. You have to stay in control.”

And Vincent laughed. “Of course, he’s in there. He’s fully aware of everything that he’s doing.” There was a pause. “Just as I am fully aware of what I’m doing. Do you feel the gun pressed to your underbelly, wolf? It’s got silver bullets in it. Get even a breath closer to my throat, and I will fire.”

“Stop it!” Jane jumped toward them. “I called you here because I wanted your help, Vincent. Not because I wanted you to hurt Aidan!” She sucked in a breath. “Aidan, back away.”

His instincts would demand that he attack, but he’d held on to his control before. Aidan was supposed to be the strongest wolf in town. He was…

Backing away. But snarling. Obviously, the guy wasn’t a happy camper.

Neither was she.

Aidan backed toward her. His big body bumped her legs.

Vincent stayed on the floor, his gun gripped in his hand. “That was…tense.”

“Paris died tonight,” Jane said. Vincent had been keeping tabs on her long before she’d become a vamp—she had no doubt that he knew all about Aidan’s long friendship with the other wolf. “Only he…he came back as a vampire.”

“No.” Vincent shot to his feet. He tucked the gun in his waistband and adjusted the gold chain that looped around his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. “Sorry, love, but that doesn’t happen. Not with werewolves. They don’t—”

“They do.” She pointed toward the lab door. “Go take a look for yourself if you don’t believe me. He transformed.”

Vincent frowned at her. She frowned back. Vincent wasn’t exactly on her friend list. More of a Watch-Very-Closely list. “He transformed,” Jane said again, “and I was wondering…were you the one who did this to him?”

The wolf snarled.

Vincent shook his head. “No! Of course not! Look, I told you, it can’t be done.”

In a flash, Jane was before him. “It is done.” And she was terrified. Terrified because…I don’t want to end Paris. “Now you helped me when I became a vampire, and I need you to help Paris now. I need you to fix him.”

“Fix him?” Vincent laughed. “There is no fixing—”

Jane pointed to her shoulder. “He attacked me. He was wild. Manic.”

The wolf growled behind her.

“We have to stop Paris. He can’t be…he can’t be like the others.” The other vampires she’d encountered. The terrible ones who killed their own families. “Please.”

Vincent’s gaze sharpened on her. “If I help him…what will you give me?”

“This isn’t a game!”

“No, no, it’s not.” Vincent’s lips thinned. “There will be a price you have to pay.”

Wasn’t there always? Jane looked back at Aidan. Even as a beast, he carried pain in his eyes. “Just help him,” Jane whispered. “And I’ll pay whatever you want.”





Chapter Seven


The old building near the cemetery used to be a BDSM club. That was why there were so many chains and ropes hanging from the walls and the ceiling, part of the leftover decor.

It had also been Jane’s prison, once. For a time that Aidan didn’t like remembering. When she’d first transformed into a vampire, Vincent had held Jane in that place. He’d been trying to make sure she didn’t attack anyone.

Or so the vamp said.

I still think the bastard was just keeping my Jane from me.

“He’s secure,” Vincent said, as he tested the chains that now bound Paris’s wrists and ankles. Not the old chains that had come with the building—those were just for show, but with new, gleaming manacles. Paris was still out cold, courtesy of Annette and her spells. He was on a mattress they’d brought in for him, chained hand and foot.