Twisted (10 page)

I just wanted you to know that Victoria didn't hurt you on purpose.

Was that why he'd been wondering if he even liked her? Because of something she'd done in the cave? Something he couldn't remember? Or hadn't
yet
remembered.

He pursed his lips. His past was there, all of it, every memory accessible, but those memories weren't the main focus of his mind. He had to actively consider
something—like what had happened in the cave—before the event crystallized.

After all the blood exchanges, Victoria left pieces of herself inside you. Her past, her thoughts and desires. Or rather, former thoughts and desires. They seem like yours now.

“That can't be right. Earlier I wondered if I even liked her.”

And once upon a time, she didn't like herself.

“I want to kill her father. She loved her father.”

She's wanted to harm him many times over the past few decades. He wasn't always nice to her, you know. But Aden? You're still here, too. The desire to harm him could very well spring from deep inside
you.

Pieces of Victoria's psyche. Inside him. Driving him, changing him. Right or wrong? True or false? “How do you know this?”

I'm all-knowing, remember?
The self-deprecating tone held a layer of truth and dread. “Not anymore.
Remember?
”

The dancing woman stopped, laughed, such a tinkling sound—he loved that sound, hated that sound—and pushed back her hood to look directly at him. Her face was lovely, delicate and hauntingly sweet.

“There you are, my darling. What are you doing, sitting so far away? Come and dance with me.”

Darling? Oh, yes, he knew her.
Should
know her, but still couldn't quite place her. His brain kept getting caught up on the words
mother
and
exasperating
. She wasn't his mother—was she?—and he wasn't sure why she exasperated him.

“I don't know how to dance,” he told her.

“I'll take the blame, I swear.”

He blinked in confusion. She wanted to take the blame for his lack of skill?

If you get up and dance right now, I'll never forgive you,
Caleb said.
You'll look like an idiot, and in turn make us look like idiots.

You're unwillingness to groove surprises me, C-man.
Julian chuckled.
Flailing around would probably look like some kind of mating ritual, luring the ladies. Or something.

Aden. Dude. If you're thinking about dancing, you should just get up and dance.
Caleb's abrupt switch was almost comical.
It's all about the bump and grind.

Another tinkling laugh, and the woman pulled her hood back up. “Very well, my darling, be that way. I'll dance on my own.” The twirling started up again. “But you're missing out, I promise you.”

“Aden.” The pureness of Victoria's voice captured his attention. “You summoned me?”

He forced himself to look up. She stood just off to
the side, the wolves flanking her. The sun framed her, creating an angelic halo around her. She'd pulled her dark hair into a ponytail and wore a black robe, as usual, only this one boasted long sleeves and a coarser, thicker material. She looked…human, so beautifully human, her cheeks and nose a bright pink, her eyes watering from the cold.

“Do you know that woman?” He motioned to where—she was gone. The dancing female had spun her way out of the backyard.

“Who?” Victoria asked.

“Never mind.” The scent of her hit him, as sweet as she looked. Gums, throbbing. Teeth, aching. Mouth, watering.

And wouldn't you know it? The buzzing returned to his head, followed by a muted cry. The same muted cry he'd heard last night. Small, almost whining. Grumbling for attention. Like a newborn baby.

What was that?
Julian demanded.

“Probably just echoes from before, in the cave,” he said, the words slurred. God. His tongue felt as big as a golf ball. His gaze latched onto Victoria's thumping pulse. Mmm.

“What?” Victoria asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

This is dangerous,
Elijah said.
Look away from her. You can't drink from her. What if you become addicted to her again?

Or worse, what if there's another switch and we end up back inside her?
Julian's fear was palpable.

Am I the only one with a sense of adventure?
Caleb asked.
Do it! Drink her!

Ignore him. Drink from someone else,
Elijah com manded.

But…Aden didn't want to drink from anyone else, even though his stomach was twisting painfully, even though he'd decided to send Victoria away.

His hunger must have overridden his good sense because he now wanted to keep her with him. And what he wanted, he got. Always. Sighing, he stood and held out his hand, another plaintive cry resounding in his head before he could speak.

Seriously, what is that?
Julian's fear gave way to irritation.
Caleb, are you acting like a brat again, pretending to be a baby?

You know I hold my breath to get what I want. I don't whine.

Uh, hate to break it to you, but you don't have any breath,
Elijah said.

And yet it works for me. Why would I change my methods?

Aden tuned them out as best he could. “Walk with
me,” he said to Victoria. She hadn't taken his hand, was merely peering down at it, unsure.

Hope flickered in her blue, blue eyes as she glanced up. “Really?”

As I was saying earlier, you do like her,
Elijah said, voice pushing through his mental blocks.
Don't forget that. Any negative feelings toward her are not your own. Okay? Yes?

Why the insistence?

Victoria placed her hand in his, and ignoring the souls was no longer an issue. The princess became his sole focus.

Her scent did more than envelop him, it invaded him, consumed him, and his mouth watered a little more. Just then, he
really
liked her. Her softness, her warmth—not hot, not anymore, but warm and sweet. Her…everything.

“Scout ahead and make sure we'll be alone,” he commanded the wolves before leading Victoria out of the backyard and into the forest. They bounded in front of him and soon disappeared. No howls of warning were forthcoming, so he continued on.

What he would do with Victoria, well, he wasn't sure about that, either. But they would find out together. For better or worse.

W
AS THIS WALK FOR
business or pleasure?

Victoria strolled hand in hand with Aden for a long while, just as they'd done before The Incident, as she was now calling their last minutes in the cave, silent—if she didn't count the now-constant, though gradually quieting, roaring in the back of her head—moving farther and farther away from the mansion. And protection.

She'd never feared Aden before, and really, she didn't fear him now. It was just, he was so different, she didn't know what to expect from him. At least she'd been smart enough to choose a winter robe to somewhat fight the early morning chill. Something she'd never had to do before. In fact, she'd had to borrow the stupid, constrictive thing from a human blood-slave.

Weather had never before mattered to her.
Temperature
had never before mattered. Now, she was freakishly cold.
All. The. Time.
She'd tossed and turned all night, shivering, her teeth chattering.

“I like it out here,” Aden said.

Casual conversation. Fabulous. “I'm surprised.” The trees were sparse, their limbs gnarled, offering very little shade overhead. Not that Victoria needed much shade. Her now vulnerable skin loved the sun, soaking in every ray, though still not warming her.

“Yeah. No prying eyes, nowhere for anyone to hide.”

Anyone—like her? “Should I be scared?”

“I don't know.”

His honesty relaxed her enough to leave her smiling. “Just warn me if you decide to attack.”

“All right.” A moment passed. “Here's your warning. I'm hungry.”

Goodbye relaxation. Tensing, she waited for him to pounce. When he didn't, she cleared her throat and asked, “Hungry for human food or for blood?”

“Blood.” The word was as slurred as before, when he'd been staring at her pulse.

If that was the only reason he'd asked her to walk with him, she'd…she didn't know what she'd do. What she did know—the thought hurt with the same jolting force as a car slamming into her and angered with a flash
of fire usually found only in hearths. To calm herself, she breathed in and out, distantly heard the rattle of locusts and the call of the birds.

“Before you drink from anyone else, I need to teach you how to eat.” Good. No hurt, no anger.

“I think I know how to drink,” he said dryly.

“Properly?” Because what they'd done in the cave didn't count.

“Meaning?”

“Veins and arteries taste different. Arteries are sweeter, but they're deeper and harder for humans to heal, so you go for them only if you want to kill. And each vein tastes different, too. The ones in the neck are deoxygenated, so they have a little bit of a—‘delicious'—fizz to them, but if you don't know what you're doing you'll, what? Kill.”

“I knew that,” he said, then thought for a moment. He nodded. “Yes, I knew that.”

She didn't ask whether he'd learned from her memories, as she had learned a few things from his, or if he'd learned on his own, like, say, sometime during the night, while they'd been apart and she'd had no idea what he was doing. Some things you were better off not knowing.

“Well, either way, you can't drink from me.” So there!

The frown Aden leveled on her was all about intimidation. “
I
know I shouldn't drink from you, but why are
you
so against it?”

Because he would find out how vulnerable she was. Because his still-human teeth would cut through her skin without any problem and probably damage her. Because she might like it more than he did.

Because
she
might now become addicted to
his
bite.

The way that blood-slave had reacted to him, all pleasure and delight and eagerness, meant that even without fangs, he now produced the chemical needed to intoxicate.

“Victoria?”

Oh, yeah. She hadn't yet answered. What should she say? “I just don't want you to,” she finally lied. Time to change the subject. “So…did you drink from anyone last night or this morning?”

The moment she asked, and so snappily, too, she wished she hadn't. Finally she understood what he had gone through every time he'd thought of her mouth pressed into someone else, their blood filling her up. How he'd hated it but had had to accept it, because she'd needed to drink from others to survive.

She despised the thought of him drinking from someone else. Despised the thought of his teeth inside some other girl's vein. And yes, she wanted to kill the stupid girl!

Stupid—because anyone who messed with Victoria's boyfriend deserved what she got.

Who are you?

And was he still her boyfriend?

“I haven't drunk from anyone. Yet. I'll find someone,” he replied, completely unaware—or unconcerned—with her rising anger. “When I'm ready.” He flicked her a glance, his gaze dropping straight to her neck, tracking her pulse like the predator he'd become.

Perhaps she was the stupid one, because she tossed her hair over one shoulder, offering him an irresistible view.
Trying to tempt him, Vic?

No. Never.

Really?

Fine. Yes. I am trying to tempt him. He's mine!

And now she was talking to herself. The day improved by the minute. “Have
you
fed today?” he asked in that casual tone.

Disappointment crashed through her. So much for tempting him. “Yes. Of course, I have.”

His eyes narrowed, creating tiny slits where each
individual lash was visible and his violet eyes were able to laser down at her. Violet eyes? Again? “On who?” he demanded.

On what
was a more fitting question. For the first time in
ever,
she'd eaten food. Real food, with weird textures and flavors she'd before tasted only in liquid nutrient form. As of last night, her need for blood had begun to dwindle. Oh, she still craved it (kind of), still needed it (sort of), but she also needed something else. Something solid.

She'd had to sneak down to the slave quarters and raid their fridge. She could have gone to the wolf quarters, but they would have scented her out and known she'd been there, and she'd rather avoid a conversation about her new eating habits.

She hadn't known what to pick, so she'd hidden two balls of cheese in her robe—her breasts had looked so perky and large!—snuck back to her room, and nibbled on them, surprised by how much she enjoyed the rich, smoky flavor.

Maybe her declining interest in blood was the reason Chompers wouldn't shut up.
He
was the reason she still needed to drink, after all, and since she hadn't fed him breakfast, he was probably starving. Poor guy.

Poor guy?

Her wards were in place, so that wasn't the issue. Before, with her vampire skin, those wards had lasted a few weeks, no longer, and she'd had to re-ink them. She'd had these new ones for four days and they hadn't even begun to fade.

“Victoria. I asked you a question.”

Right. She had to stop retreating into her own head. “Uh, you don't know him.” Truth. Cheese came from cows, and there was no way Aden had met this particular cow.

“Tell me his name anyway.”

“So you can kill him?” she asked hopefully. Soliciting a massacre wasn't her objective, but a jealous Aden was a caring Aden.

“Never mind.” He waved away her reply. “It doesn't matter.”

Hopes dashed again.

Something vibrated against her side, and she yelped. Aden glanced down at her, confused and maybe just a little concerned. Hopes reignited.

A yo-yo, that's what she was.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think—” Another vibration, another yelp. What the—her phone, she realized with relief. Only her phone. “Yes, I'm fine.”

She stuffed her free hand into the robe's only pocket and withdrew the small, plastic devise. She'd started to carry one after meeting Aden, so that he could call if he needed her. So far, he hadn't called, but Riley was certainly taking advantage. His number was different every time, the little thief, but his message was always the same. How many
This is bullshit!
texts could she get from him?

“A message from Riley,” she said. “Give me a sec. I have to reply.”

This is bullshit! she read. Got MA 2 safety & T is about 2 ruin it.

T. Tucker. Victoria hated Tucker. After releasing Aden's hand—which she hated to do—she typed, Kill him. Make it hurt. In her haste, she typed “hart” but didn't realize until too late.

“How is he?” Aden asked. He wound his arm around her waist, guiding her out of the way of trees as her attention wavered between her phone and what was ahead of her. Well, well. While the hand-holding had been as delightful as finding a rainbow, this was like finding the pot of gold at the end of it. She absorbed his heat, felt her cells waking up, responding to him.

“Good.” Another vibration and she read, Hart? Ha!
CID. Soon. SOB's helping 2. Another vibration, a new text. How's BK doing?

BK. Boy King. Riley had started calling Aden by the stupid nickname in earlier texts and hadn't stopped. On mend.

Ask him if the name Tyson means anything.

“Does the name Tyson mean anything to you?”

“Tyson?” Aden asked. “Mmm-hmm.”

A moment passed. “No. Should it?”

“Don't know.” She asked Riley.

We'll talk about it later. Call if u need me.

K.

I'll call when Tuck has bled out.

Her lips twitched as she returned the phone to her pocket.

Aden didn't ask what they'd discussed. He just changed the subject, saying, “Elijah says I'm now like you. My personality, I mean.”

“Of course Elijah is blaming me for the change. He doesn't like me. None of them do,” she said, then his words sank in, and she gasped. “Wait, what?” Her step faltered, tripping her, dislodging Aden's hold. When she straightened, she glared at his still moving form. Never
mind that she'd had the same thought yesterday. She'd been more inclined to blame her father. “Aden!”

He turned back to face her, frowned at the distance between them and approached. Again she absorbed his heat. Now that her cells were fully awake, they practically quivered in rapture, being this close to him.

How she would have loved it if he'd deigned to return her glare, but no. His expression remained blank. “He says you left pieces of your character inside me. Like when I gave you the souls, and you gave me Chompers.” His head tilted to the side, his gaze moving past her, past the forest, as if he were listening to someone else. He probably was. Then he nodded and said, “And when we drank from each other.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. Her sharp, useless teeth. “You're saying this uncaring, very nearly unlikable act is because of
me?
”
You thought the same thing,
she reminded herself.
How can you be mad at him?

She didn't know, but she was.
Very
mad.

“Yes. That's what I'm saying.” Offered with no hesitation.

That
was how people saw her? Cold, distant? Oh, she'd known they considered her too serious, but this… Ugh, ugh,
ugh.
“Why aren't I acting like you, then?”

“Maybe you are.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

Her chin lifted. “You mean I'm acting confused, tuning in and out of our conversations, distracted all the time, and throwing jealous fits?” Wait. She
was.
Her eyes widened as realization struck. She really was.

“Was that how you saw me?” he asked, parroting her thoughts. He took a menacing step toward her, then another.

She backed away slowly, trying not to be obvious in her cowardice—and her desire. Her quivering became outright shaking, her need to be touched by him overshadowing everything else, making her ache.

He didn't stop coming, and she didn't stop retreating until her back pressed into a thick tree trunk. She might crave him, but she didn't know this Aden, didn't know how he'd react to the things she did and said.

Although, if Elijah was correct, she could guess. If Aden was acting like her, he would try and resist her, but he would fail. Just as she'd always failed to resist him. He would try and dislike her, try to detach himself from her, but again, he would fail.

Finally, a blessing amidst a curse.

When she'd first met him, she had been following orders from her father. Find him, interrogate him, and
kill him. She'd found him all right. She'd interrogated him—kind of. While her father had expected screams of pain to spring from the question-and-answer session, she'd ended up swimming with Aden, playing with him. Kissing him.

She'd told herself she didn't—couldn't—like him. He was food, nothing more. She'd told herself to remain disconnected from the situation, to do what needed to be done. Aden had summoned her kind to Oklahoma, he hummed with a kind of power none of them understood but were drawn to, a power the beasts inside them yearned for and basically worshipped, and he could do serious damage to their race. Killing him would have been a mercy to her people.

Killing him, though, had never been an option for Victoria. She had been intrigued by him, had identified with him. He was an outsider to his own kind; he was misunderstood, unwanted. She wasn't an outsider, but as a princess she
was
set apart. And it hadn't helped that she'd always been a disappointment to her father. She wasn't a warrior like her sister Lauren, and she wasn't a volatile force of nature like Stephanie.

She was just…herself.

Aden flattened his hands at her temples, his lower body brushing against hers and pulling a delighted gasp
right out of her. He'd caged her in, surrounded her, becoming all that she saw. All she wanted to see. “You
are
tuning in and out of our conversations,” he said. There was no heat to his tone, but maybe…maybe there were threads of amusement?