Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)(7)

Had he been hiding during everything? Hiding and waiting? He’d seen everything, too, just as she had. She looked up into his eyes—eyes that were the exact shade of her own. He’d been crying. He never cried.

Her gaze darted back to his hand just as she heard the basement door opening—the faintest of clicks from the top of the stairs. The monster was coming for her again.

She grabbed for the dirty little hand, and he pulled her up, yanking with all of his strength. Her body slid through the narrow opening of the window. Her shoulders. Her chest. Her stomach. Her—

The monster grabbed her feet.

”No!” she screamed. And then she held that dirty little hand even tighter. “Drew, help me!”

***

The nightmare-slash-dream-slash-walk-into-hell faded. Jane cracked open one eye. She wasn’t in the old basement any longer. Her face was shoved into a familiar leather couch—Aidan’s couch. She moved just a bit and saw the floor of his office and—

Legs. Legs in fancy black pants.

“Rise and shine, Jane,” an amused voice murmured. A voice that did not belong to Aidan.

Her head lifted and she stared at Paris. He smiled at her.

And she realized she was naked from the waist up. Good thing she’d only lifted her head. Jane took stock of her body, checking for aches and pains, but she actually felt good. No, better than good. Strong. Powerful.

She flexed her back but didn’t feel the pull from her wounds.

“Already healed,” Paris told her, rather helpfully. “It was quite amazing to watch, really. Your skin just starting closing about an hour ago. Like it was stitching itself up.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Um.”

That wasn’t an answer.

So she tried a different question. “Where’s Aidan?”

“Where else?” He waved one hand in a rather bored gesture. “Out looking for the men who attacked you. Come on, Jane. You know how he gets. Anyone hurts you and he flips the hell out.” Some of the amusement slipped from his golden eyes. “A very dangerous thing for an alpha of his power.”

“The men who attacked me are dead.” She distinctly remembered sending one to hell. “So there was no need—”

“Aidan thinks more is at play. More involved in the game than just two humans deciding they were going to kill you. After all, they were packing wooden bullets.” He walked to Aidan’s desk and lifted one blood-stained bullet. The bloody bullets had been lined up in a neat little row on top of the desk. “Wooden bullets mean they were after special prey. They knew what you were, and they were ready to see you die.”

She swallowed. Twice. “How—how did—” Jane broke off. Okay, no, she would not keep talking to him without a shirt on. “Turn around.”

He quirked one brow but did as she asked. Paris was the charmer, the lady killer. So, yes, he’d probably seen hundreds of women without their tops, but he wasn’t seeing her that way.

She sat up and quickly grabbed for a nearby jacket—one that smelled of Aidan. She pulled it on and rose to her feet. Her steps weren’t even shaky as she paced away from the couch. Definite improvement considering that when she’d arrived in Aidan’s office, just breathing had been hard.

Jane headed for the bathroom. She’d wash off the blood that still marked her body, get the extra clothes that Aidan kept for her in the bathroom closet, and then she could square off with Paris.

“You shouldn’t keep taking his blood.”

Jane’s steps faltered. “Um, I was dying.”

“That’s a habit you have. A rather nasty one.” He turned to face her. “Do you just expect him to appear these days? Kind of like Lois Lane and Superman? You think you can tackle anything because your safety net will always be there to save the day? To save you?”

He was angry and that wasn’t like Paris. Normally, he was the mellow one. And… “I’m not Lois Lane. He’s not Superman.” And she wasn’t waiting around for anyone to save her.

“Right. Not Superman.” Paris nodded. “Aidan’s an alpha werewolf and you’re a vampire. The two of you should stay as far away from each other as possible.”

Even with the coat, a chill skated over her body. “Do we have a problem, Paris?” Because she hadn’t thought so but…

Jane was still new to the vamp life, but she realized there were plenty of werewolves out there who didn’t like what she was—didn’t like her.

I just didn’t suspect Paris was one of them.

Testing now, she eased out a quick breath and said, “When you’re near me, do you want to attack?” Because that was the werewolf way. Get close to a vamp and primitive instincts take over and—

“You made yourself different.”

She didn’t know what he meant.

“Aidan’s blood,” Paris gritted out. “You had too much of it before your transformation, so when you became a vampire—that blood of his changed with you. You’re not just a vamp, Jane. You’re more—hell, I don’t even know what you really are.”

That was…insulting?

Scary?

Both, Jane decided. Definitely both.

“He changed you,” Paris said, a muscle jerking along his hard jaw. “And I’m worried that you’re changing him.”