The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 (76 page)

Reed didn’t smile. He sat on the edge of the mattress with legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his knees. Dressed in a black shirt and slacks, he looked like he was in mourning. His gaze was hard and lacked any emotion.

“You make a beautiful bride,” he said without inflection.

Eve faced him directly. It was easy to say there was nothing permanent between them when they were apart. When she was faced with his presence, however, the attraction was undeniable. “Thank you. I suddenly feel like shit.”

“Don’t,” he said tightly. “Fuck the doubts and guilt and all the other crap I feel stirring around in you and give this marriage everything you’ve got. You wanted Cain and now he’s yours. You better damn well enjoy it.”

She intended to, but that wasn’t the issue. “Don’t be sarcastic. It stings.”

“I’m not.” He shifted to a spot right in front of her. “I mean it. I’m not going to have what I want from you until you’ve reached the end of the road with him. I’ve got all the time in the world. I can wait ’til you get there.”

“We’re getting
married,
Reed.”

The look he gave her was both scathing and mocking. “You have to. I didn’t realize that until last night.”

“Reed—”

He grabbed her right hand and pushed the pink diamond engagement ring over the knuckle of her fourth finger. “Cain gave it back to me, but it’s yours.”

The fit was snugger on her dominant hand. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make her very aware of the ring’s presence.

Dropping her hand as if it burned him, he stepped back. “Marriage isn’t an unbreakable contract, Eve. Cain’s been married before.”

Her hand fisted, testing the weight of the massive stone.

“I have something you need and want,” Reed bit out. “I’m damned if I know what it is between us, but I do know it’s not going away, and neither am I. You and I are unfinished business, and you won’t be able to live with that forever. You’ll come back to me some day. And when you do, we’ll both know you’re ready.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he shifted away. There one second, gone the next. As ephemeral as smoke, just as he’d always been. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and felt a huge weight slip from her shoulders. He had given her a blessing of sorts, something she hadn’t realized she wanted until she had it. And Alec was right; Reed wasn’t putting up a fight. That spoke louder than words.

Eve left the bedroom in her bare feet and hurried down the stairs towards her future.

Seressia Glass

Rinna walked past the row of crimson stools at the Majestic’s well-used counter, heading for a table in the back corner. The Art Deco diner had been an indelible part of the Poncey-Highland neighbourhood just east of downtown Atlanta since 1929. Open twenty-four hours and every day except Christmas, the Majestic catered to an eclectic crowd of humans and hybrids alike.

At this time of day, the diner was mostly empty. That would change as night fell, then at midnight. That was when the Majestic became a prime people- and hybrid-watching venue.

She wasn’t there to watch, though. No, she’d arrived an hour early to gather her thoughts and prepare to make her case to a man she hadn’t been able to forget for two years.

She looked up as the waiter placed a menu, a glass of water and tableware in front of her. “Hey Sam. Getting in touch with your feminine side this cycle?”

Sam flashed a sharp-toothed grin, pushing her green-tipped black fringe off her forehead. “Thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk on the wilder side,” the hybrid confided. “You wanna look at the menu, or do you already know what you want?”

“I’ll flip through it, and just start with a cup of black coffee, thick.”

Sam placed a laminated menu on the table. “Gotcha. Back in a bit.”

Rinna tapped her fingers as she looked through the menu, trying to quell her nerves. Two years. After two years, it would finally happen. She’d finally see him again.

Sam returned with coffee. “Today’s the day, eh, Rinna?”

“Yes.” She fidgeted. “At least, I hope so.”

“Of course it will be. How can Bale resist you?”

“Easily.” Rinna wrapped her hands around the coffee mug to prevent tapping a hole into the table. “Our people can really hold on to grudges, down to the smallest slight. Bale and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Best of terms. She’d run away from Bale like a weak
banring
afraid of being exposed to die by her crèche mother. All because she’d discovered Bale’s clan affiliation. A clan he no longer recognized, much as she’d left hers for a new life in Atlanta two years ago.

“He’ll come,” Sam assured her. “Didn’t the Chaser tell you so?”

“Yeah, she did.” Rinna had taken a huge risk approaching the Shadowchaser, especially given the circumstances in which they’d first met. Besides, Shadowchasers were a hybrid’s version of the boogeyman, a tale used to frightened the young. All she’d heard growing up was that Shadowchasers hunted hybrids and Shadowlings, trapping or killing them on sight. And that they loved to munch on young misbehaving
banrings.
It didn’t matter what you did or didn’t do, the fact that you existed made you the Shadowchaser’s enemy.

She’d learned that wasn’t the case, thanks to Bale. She’d learned a lot of things, thanks to the male
banaranjan.

Two Years Earlier

A pulsing beat thundered through all three tiers of the DMZ’s main room, forcing Rinna’s heart to keep pace. It was a great night to party. It was an even better night to hunt.

Not that she needed to hunt. Many
banaranjans
made do with synthesized human adrenaline delivered via autoinjectors or served over dry ice in mixed-clientele clubs like the DMZ. It did what it needed to do, but nothing compared to sampling the epinephrine directly from the source. In a place like this, there were always plenty of volunteers around.

The Goth club looked like a cross between the Roman Coliseum and a factory from the start of the Industrial Revolution, perfect for its diverse clientele. Those who walked in Light gathered on Rinna’s left, though all three levels seemed sparsely lit with the blue-violet-white flickers that denoted Light beings.
Maybe they’re all at a convention
, she thought.

On the right, occasional flashes of yellow lit the deep dark of the Shadow side of the club. Plenty of beings on that side, Rinna noted. Most club-goers, human and otherwise, spilled over the middle ground between the two camps, the most neutral of the neutral territory inside the club.

Finding a nightspot that catered to hybrids and humans alike had been essential to her successful relocation to Atlanta – that and the Majestic, of course. The DMZ was a demilitarized zone masquerading as a bar that allowed anyone, of any walk of life, to enter as long as they didn’t draw weapons. Rinna couldn’t see the protective shielding that radiated from every bit of the club’s infrastructure, but she could feel it. She knew it was quick to take care of anyone careless enough to display aggression. Rumour had it that even the Shadowchaser had to remove her weapons before she entered.

Rinna wasn’t sure about that, but if it was true, it only confirmed her belief that she’d made the right choice relocating to Atlanta. A diverse club, the lack of a major
banaranjan
community and the presence of a Gilead Commission unit meant Rinna had a chance of a decent home and a reasonable life expectancy. Much better odds than where she’d been before.

Rinna took a final sip of her cocktail before discarding the plastic cup. She hoped she looked like most of the human females in there. Strappy stilettos, form-fitting jeans and a blouse with a plunging neckline seemed to be standard-issue attire for most of the women. It had taken months to perfect her human persona, practising in secret then making clandestine trips to test her abilities. Once she could pass for human and feed without detection, she’d made her escape.

Rinna leaned over the rail that ringed the first level. A live band played on a round stage in the centre of the club. The Pit circled the stage, a seething maelstrom of Shadow and darkness in which the DMZ’s non-aggression rules didn’t apply. Anywhere else in the club, if you drew weapons or called your power, wards would flash an orange warning, giving the perpetrator about two seconds to dial down or die. In the Pit, however, hybrids were given free rein, as long as no one got killed. Humans could go into the Pit too, but not without a little hassle. Since Rinna had been visiting the DMZ, she’d never seen a Light being enter the cauldron of violence. The humans who dared to had to sign a waiver before descending the stairs to the gated entrance.

She breathed deep, eyes sliding closed. Adrenaline wafted through the air, not enough to attempt to filter. For that, she needed more humans in the Pit or one male to show interest. She exhaled, releasing a simple banaranjan pheromone lure, and waited.

“Hey.”

She turned away from the railing. A human male with spiky blond hair, pale jeans and a dark navy shirt smiled at her, the prerequisite bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. Nice.

“Hi yourself.” She smiled, revving up her charm.
Draw him in slowly
, then
get his heart racing
.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Sure.”

“Sweet.”

The club was too crowded to move further along the dance floor, so they carved out a bit of room along the rail. Rinna lifted her arms and gave herself over to the frenetic music pouring from the stage. She kept the unnamed blond in her sights, smiling and flirting while dancing close, spiking his adrenaline.

He leaned forward, careful not to spill his beer. “My name’s Cade.”

“Nice to meet you, Cade,” she called out over the lead singer’s growling vocals. She leaned close, brushing her body against his. “My name’s Rinna.”

His heart pounded loud enough for her to hear it. “Rinna. A cool name for a hot chick.”

She laughed. “Does that line get you laid a lot?”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “It may be a line, but it’s still true.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched from the contact, then sighed. Rinna knew humans felt something between fear and pleasure from a
banaranjan
’s touch, an involuntary reaction to the epinephrine flooding their system.

The hormone was ambrosia to a
banaranjan
, not necessary to live, but coveted all the same. While many of her kind had no problem scaring adrenaline out of humans, Rinna much preferred to seduce a rush from her “samplers”.

Cade trembled again. They had moved closer to the safety barrier that prevented dancers from accidentally falling into the Pit. Rinna pressed against him, running her hands over his back just above his kidneys. “So Cade . . . have you ever been down in the Pit?”

His heart triple-beat in his chest, and another burst of adrenaline hit his blood.
Delicious
.

“Sure, babe. I go in all the time,” he said, false bravado clear in his voice. “What about you?”

She pinned him with a stare, hoping her eyes hadn’t flickered yellow with excitement. “I’ve gone in a couple of times. It’s a surreal experience.”

“Yeah.” Something flitted across his expression, something apprehensive, dark, and excited. “It’s definitely something else.”

Rinna nodded, but decided to trust his body instead of his words. People had called her type adrenaline junkies long before extreme sports became vogue. While
banaranjans
didn’t need adrenaline for daily sustenance, it was a necessary component of their survival. She didn’t think humans needed to jump out of airplanes or fight bulls or watch horror movies, but they did. When they did,
banaranjans
were there to collect the carelessly released adrenaline for themselves.

Cade was probably an adrenaline junkie. He certainly looked the part with his carelessly spiked hair and athletic build. Rinna had seen plenty of guys like him base jumping, free climbing, and free running. It was all about the rush, the brush with death. For these junkies, if there wasn’t a near fatality, they didn’t feel alive.

If Cade wanted a brush with death, Rinna would be happy to oblige him.

He jerked his head toward the Pit. “Wanna go in?”

Rinna sucked in a breath. Enough humans had finally entered the Pit to spike the thick club air with the musky sweetness of adrenaline and other hormones. She could filter more if she went in herself, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not that she couldn’t hold her own; she knew how to get in, get what she wanted, then get out. But there were plenty of hybrids and Shadowlings in the black maelstrom who would be thrilled to fight her for her human companion. Plenty of beings much bigger, much meaner, and much more disposed to push the club rules.

The music crescendoed, then stopped. Rinna turned toward the stage, cheering and applauding with the other club-goers. “Looks like it’s last call,” Rinna told Cade. “People are coming out of the Pit.”

They watched, silent, as several humans staggered up the stairs to the main floor. Ripped shirts were the least of the injuries. One man had to be helped up the stairs by two others, the left side of his head bloodied. Club employees immediately gathered to help the humans to small recovery rooms out of sight.