Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)(41)

Paris went for his throat again, the moment of sanity seeming to fade.

But once more, Aidan dodged those biting teeth. He shoved another bag of blood at Paris. “Tell Garrison we’re going to need more,” he ordered. “A whole lot damn more.”

Annette stared at the two men, her heart aching. Breaking. Paris had come back, but only for a few moments before the madness claimed him again. She stumbled away, gave the order to a dazed Garrison for more blood, then she stood there, a dull buzzing filling her ears.

Garrison rushed to get more blood. And she…

Annette lifted her hand to her cheek. Why was it wet? She didn’t cry. She never cried. She didn’t let herself feel enough to cry. She always hid her emotions. You had to hide when you cared. Because if others found out what she cared about…

They’d destroy what she loved.

Only…

Another guttural cry seemed to echo through the building.

The man she’d secretly started to love…he was already being destroyed. But…by his own words, someone had done this to him. Paris had said that someone had given him blood. Some bastard out there…some fool she didn’t know…

He’d dared to f*ck with the voodoo queen. With someone who was hers.

She was going to find the bastard. And she’d make him pay for that crime with his life.





Chapter Nine


Jane rushed toward the old BDSM club, her heart racing. She was sick to her stomach and she hated the fear that iced her veins. Aidan. Get to Aidan. Get to—

The door to the building opened and she nearly slammed right into Garrison. His eyes widened as he grabbed her arms. “Jane?”

She pushed him to the side and ran inside. She saw Annette, the woman was swiping at her cheeks. Annette—crying? Oh, that is so not good. “Where’s Aidan?” Jane demanded.

Annette jerked to attention. Her hand lifted—oh, crap, her fingers were shaking—as she pointed toward the back, toward the room that housed Paris. Jane ran forward, then stopped at Annette’s side. Her hand reached out and curled over Annette’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Tears gleamed in Annette’s eyes. “What’s the use of all the power…if you can’t save the one who matters most?”

Jane sucked in a sharp breath. “Annette…”

“I looked into my mirror hundreds of times over the years. People came to me—vampires came to me. Werewolves. Humans. They were all so desperate. And do you know what most of them wanted?”

Jane shook her head.

“To save a loved one. I…” Her head lowered. “I pitied them. Swore I wouldn’t ever be like them. Because when you are willing to offer up your own life for someone else…that just means the fates will make you pay the ultimate price.”

Jane didn’t know what to say. Annette was hurting and the fault…it’s mine. I’m the one who didn’t save Paris. It’s on me. Because she didn’t know what to say in order to ease Annette’s pain, Jane just pulled the other woman close in a tight hug.

Annette stiffened in her hold. “What are you doing?”

“It’s called a hug, Annette.”

Annette stayed stiff. “You’d better not bite me…” Her words were grumbled but her body slowly relaxed. A moment later, Jane risked a look at Annette’s face, and saw that the tears had left her eyes.

For the moment.

“When did you start to love him?” Jane asked her.

Annette’s chin lifted. “Does the when matter? Do you remember the exact moment you started to love that beast of yours?”

No, she just…had.

Jane slipped back from Annette. Her beast was in danger, and they had to be prepared for Drew. But before she could go to him, Annette caught her wrist in a tight grip.

“We have to find a way to save them both,” Annette whispered.

“Trust me, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

But Annette’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “What will you trade?”

That answer was simple. For Aidan’s life? “Everything.”

Annette’s hand slipped from hers. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Her laughter was bitter. “Just like all the desperate fools who came to see me…wanting to save others…and losing themselves along the way.”

Jane shivered as she hurried toward that back room. Annette followed behind her, so quietly, and when Jane stepped inside that room…

Paris was sleeping. Empty blood bags littered the floor around him. Aidan stood over the other man, his hands clenched, his head bowed.

Jane hesitated. “Aidan…”

His shoulders tensed. “You didn’t do this, Jane.”

Yes, she had. Guilt was a weight pulling at her ankles as she crept toward him.

Aidan turned to her and the fury on his face nearly stopped her heart. “Someone gave him tainted blood, Jane. Deliberately. While Paris was helpless in an ambulance, some bastard forced him to take vampire blood.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

“He told me. My blood gave Paris a few moments of sanity. He remembered.” Aidan’s hand rose and she saw that his claws had broken from the tips of his fingers. “I will find the bastard who did this to Paris. He will pay.”