Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)(73)

A simple enough plan.

Stronger together.

He slipped into that back room, but when he saw Paris, Aidan stilled. Paris had his arms locked around Annette and the guy’s fangs were bared right over her throat, as if he were about to gorge on her blood.

Shit! No! I can’t let him—

Aidan leapt forward, a roar ready to burst from his lips but—

Someone else screamed. A high, quick scream of warning. The cry didn’t come from that back room. It came from what sounded like the front of the building.

Where Jane is.

But at the cry, Paris’s head whipped up. His eyes locked on Aidan and Paris stared at him not with a mindless, bloodlust filled gaze, but…

“It’s Aidan.” Paris’s lips curved into a grateful smile. “That’s who I sensed coming, not Vincent. It’s just Aidan.”

His hands fell away from Annette.

Aidan frowned.

Annette bent and brushed away the dirt near her feet. “Finally, alpha. Shit, do you know how nervous I was getting?”

Nervous…or scared?

Aidan’s stare swept over Paris as his friend yanked at the manacles on his ankles. “Had to…act like I was still…deranged.” Paris ripped away the manacle from his left foot. Then his right. He shot a quick glance at Aidan. “You’re sane, too, right? Because Vincent was telling us you were destined to go over the edge.”

“I did,” Aidan said flatly. “But Jane pulled me back.”

The scream had faded away. It hadn’t been Jane’s scream, he knew that. Vincent wouldn’t kill Jane, he couldn’t. The bastard needed her. She was his end.

“It was Vincent all along,” Annette said quickly. “He hates wolves. He wants to eradicate them all. He’s using Jane’s blood to do it—he says it’s poison to wolves.”

Not exactly. Dangerous, but not lethal.

“Jane is taking care of the bastard,” he told them. “Distracting him while I get the two of you to safety.”

“I’m not f*cking leaving,” Paris threw back. “I owe the bastard, I owe—”

Blood.

The scent teased Aidan’s nose. His head turned as the sound of footsteps shuffled closer.

“Ah, Aidan,” Annette began, her voice shaking a bit. “There’s something you need to know about Vincent…and Lena…”

Vincent appeared in the doorway. Blood soaked his shirt. One of his arms was locked around Jane’s neck and his other hand…it gripped a bloody, wooden stake. He had that stake pressed to Jane’s chest.

“Jane.” Vincent said her name with fury—with betrayal. “You lied to me. Aidan still lives.”

Aidan’s claws were out. His beast was now fully under his control—beast and vamp—and both were ready to tear into Vincent.

“Yeah, well,” Jane didn’t sound even a little afraid. Just pissed off. Brave. My Jane. “You lied to me from day one, so I figure that makes us even.” Her gaze jerked toward Annette. “I drove that stake into his heart and he didn’t go down. Why the hell not? Want to enlighten me on what I’ve missed here?”

Before Annette could speak, Vincent laughed. “You’ve missed plenty, Jane. You all have.” His mouth brushed against Jane’s cheek. “Ever wonder how your brother knew to fire silver bullets when he attacked on that college campus? I was the one to give him the gun. I was the one to visit him and tell him there were dark, dangerous threats out there…that there were creatures he needed to fear, not just vampires.”

“He wouldn’t have listened to a vamp,” Jane’s voice was strained. “Not Drew—”

“He didn’t know what I was. I made sure of it. Just as I made sure that Aidan’s little compulsion trick wouldn’t work on your brother.”

How the hell could he do that?

But…

Lena had crept up behind Vincent. Aidan’s gaze darted to her.

Magic. Fucking magic.

“I visited your brother often over the years. Never when you were around, of course.” Mocking laughter slipped from him. “I guess you could even say I gave him poison, too. A slow poison of hate that ripped into his mind. Humans can be so easy to manipulate.”

Jane yanked against his hold, but Vincent’s grip didn’t falter. And the stake kept pressing right over her chest.

“Lena…” Vincent called.

The blonde stepped closer to him. She always seemed to be in the shadows, waiting for Vincent to call her up.

“I do wish you’d eliminate those three,” Vincent ordered, his voice bored, as if he’d just told Lena to take out the trash. “Aidan Locke. Paris Cole. And not-so-great voodoo queen, Annette Benoit. I wish you’d get rid of them right now.”

Like he gave a shit what Vincent wished.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said. She lifted her hands. The gold around her wrists gleamed.

“Fuck me,” Annette whispered. “We are so dead.”

Not yet. Not by a long shot. Not—

“She’s a djinn,” Annette told them, turning desperate eyes on Aidan. “There shouldn’t be any of her kind left, but he has her bound to him…I think that’s what those bracelets are—they’re chains for her. She has to do exactly what he says and—”