Twisted (9 page)

How many others were nearby? Had they seen Mary Ann already? They obviously hadn't attacked
her. Determined to discover the truth, he drew closer to them.

“The boy will have to be taken care of, as well,” Marie said on a sigh.

What boy? Him? Or someone else? Jealousy sparked.

“He's done nothing wrong,” Jennifer said.

“Doesn't matter. He's powerful. He'll be trouble,” Marie replied.

Powerful
could mean Aden but could also mean Riley. However, the “done nothing wrong” part eliminated them both. Riley's jealousy sprouted wings with razored tips and flew through his entire body.

Marie continued, “We can't risk his coming after us. He could do serious damage. Especially if he decides to aid the other one, the new king. And since Aden has Tyson stuck inside him…”

“I know.” Fear coated Jennifer's voice.

Tyson? One of the souls BD? Before Death.

Riley made a mental note to tell Aden, see if the name sparked a memory in a soul. He stopped when he reached the front doors of an apartment building. One of the crumbling, rundown ones. The witches were inside, their auras practically crackling beyond the bricks. So badly he wanted to charge through the building, biting and chewing the magic wielders to pieces. Threaten
Mary Ann and hurt. That was the lesson they needed to learn. But he was without wards. His wolf skin couldn't hold them. The witches could cast a thousand different spells—death, destruction, pain—and he would be helpless.

That was why wolves never challenged witches without a vampire by their side.

A low growl slipped from him. He hated walking away from a fight, but he did it. He clomped back into the shadows and saw the motel across the street—and the four telling auras inside it. Those auras crackled, glitter swirling in a rainbow of colors.

Fairies.

They were here, too. Dread slithered through him. His ears twitched as he honed in, listened.

“—reach her before the witches,” someone was saying. Female. Possibly Brendal, the fairy who'd tried to mind-control Aden into doing as she wanted. A princess, and the dead and ghostly Thomas's determined sister. “She's mine.”

“Yes, princess.”

Oh, yes. That was Brendal.

Riley sped into action, Mary Ann's scent strengthening the moment he reached the Charleston Motel. The
sign underneath read Weekly Rapes Available.
Nice.
Someone had screwed with the letters.

Would Mary Ann have gone inside such a dilapidated facility? Doing so was completely out of character for someone known as a Goody Two-shoes. (And what the hell did that mean, anyway? Why were shoes considered good?) She might have, though, simply to throw off whoever was following her.

And the witches and fairies
had
seen her. No question of that now. Why else would they be here, talking about her?

As his anticipation and concern returned, strengthened, he raced across the street. Headlights washed over him, a car horn blared, tires squealed. Shoulda looked both ways, he supposed, jumping out of the way. The motel doors opened from the outside, rather than from an inner hallway. His favorite. He sniffed each one until he caught another whiff of Mary Ann.

The instant he did, his blood heated with all kinds of gooey emotions only girls were supposed to feel. She was here.

He shifted to his human form, naked and suddenly cold, picked the lock, shifted back to his wolf form, settled his mouth around the knob and gave a little twist. Or tried to. No movement, which meant she'd done
more than lock it. Good. Not that any kind of rigging would stop the witches, the fae or him.

Rather than shift back to his human form and undo her handiwork—perhaps waking Mary Ann and giving her time to run, hide or call “the boy” the witches had mentioned—Riley slammed into the door with all his considerable wolf weight. Hinges snapped, and wood shards rained.

He remained there in the entrance, taking stock. First thing he noticed: there was someone on the floor, sitting up, glaring. Tucker Harbor. Second thing: someone on the bed, sitting up, gasping. Mary Ann. That fall of dark hair, her aura the dark red of fear, the blue of hope.

In an instant he knew. Tucker was “the boy.” The powerful, supposedly done-nothing-wrong boy.

In a blink, the scene changed. No longer was anyone on the floor. No longer was the person on the bed gasping at him with a combination of fear and hope.

Now, there were two people on the bed—and they were having sex.

Another growl left him, this one as savage and lethal as a dagger. Probably cutting much deeper. He'd already decided to kill Tucker, but now he was going to make it hurt.

Riley shifted—uncaring that he was naked—and
closed the door as best he could. With the damage to the hinges, he could only prop the fake wood against the opening. Then he turned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I know what you're doing, you bastard, and you can stop.” Illusions. This was an illusion, and he knew it soul deep. Neither person on the bed, so lost to pleasure, cast any kind of aura.

“Riley,” Mary Ann said on a raspy breath.

The sound of his name on those lips affected him. His blood heated another degree and not with fury.

“Tucker,” she said next, pleasure giving way to irritation. “Stop, or I'll stab you.”

A funny threat, coming from her, but effective. Tucker dropped the illusion, and once again Riley saw that Tucker was on the floor and Mary Ann was on the bed.

She looked away from Riley, even as she tossed him a sheet, a hot blush staining her cheeks. “For frick's sake, Riley, cover yourself. Tucker's here.”

Had she just said
for frick's sake?
And, if he didn't obey? He wanted to ask but didn't. He caught the sheet and wound the material around his waist, tucking in the end to ensure it stayed put. He recrossed his arms over his chest. “I'm sure Tucker's already come to grips with the
fact that everyone he encounters is bigger than he is, so don't worry that he'll slip into a shame spiral and kill himself. Just start talking.”
Before I start maiming.
“What's going on?”

“Can't you tell?” Tucker asked, smug enough to boil Riley's good intentions. “We're dating again, and she's playing hard to get.”

Riley ran his tongue over his teeth. “Not another word out of you, demon. Mary Ann?” She'd ditched him to go on the run with her cheating, evil ex. Riley had never been more stunned—or more pissed. “You've got witches across the street, fairies here in this building, and both are planning your execution. You can either tell me what's going on now, or tell me after I kill Tucker.”

She gulped. “Now is fine.”

“Good choice.” Man, she was beautiful. Not just quietly pretty, he realized, but drop-dead beautiful. And, yeah, maybe the fact that he'd missed her so much was responsible for the change, but just then she was perfect in every way. Except for the ex. Tucker was an accessory that would not go with any of Mary Ann's outfits.

Tucker stood. He wore a T-shirt and a pair of boxers. Both would look so much nicer torn to ribbons. Along
with his skin. “You want a piece of me, wolf? Then come and get it. 'Cause your girlfriend sure did earlier.”

Another gasp left Mary Ann. “You are such a liar! I've changed my mind, Riley. We can talk after you kill him,” she added primly.

He flashed a grin. Until he heard “—wolf is back! What should we do?” The speaker was Jennifer. Through magic, they could watch anyone at any time. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that?

“The slaughter will have to wait,” he said. “Grab your stuff. We need to leave. The witches are watching you.” And he needed to do something to stop them.

“Okay. Yes.” She was pale and trembling as she unfolded from the bed, but her bag was already packed, the same backpack she'd left home with, so the moment she slid her feet into her tennis shoes, she was ready.

They were racing into the night a second later.

Tucker, the bastard, followed them. “You'll need me,” he said, smug again. “
If
you want to succeed.”

“Like you did such a good job before,” Riley snapped.

“She's alive, isn't she?”

No arguing with that.

“Zip it, both of you,” Mary Ann said, exasperated. “We can yell and threaten each other when we're safe.”

He heard her unspoken question: Would they ever be safe? Truly safe? He wanted to reply but zipped his lips as ordered and shifted back to wolf form, the sheet falling away.

He'd make sure she was safe. Whatever he had to do, he'd make sure.

W
HEN
A
DEN FINISHED PLAYING
fetch with the beasts, he asked them to return to their hosts. They snorted and groused, but ultimately they obeyed, wanting so badly to please him. After that, he ordered his people to go about their business and no one—
no one
—was to disturb him.

After
that,
he spent a few hours walking the grounds (pristine), the house (immaculate), listening to gossip (boring) and ignoring the councilmen, who obeyed his edict to leave him alone but who purposely cast their voices his way as they argued about his future marriage plans (not gonna happen).

They also discussed his coronation ceremony having been canceled because he'd been missing, and then picked a new date, agreeing they could have everything ready in a week. Which, miracle of miracles, was nearly
the same date as the ceremony they'd canceled, but whatever.

He was king, and he didn't need a coronation to feel the part. Nor did the people need a coronation to follow him. Not after they'd seen what he could do with their beasts.

And now…now he was weary. He found a shirt, pulled it on and spent the rest of the night in the throne room, the power wafting from the wards woven into the carpet quieting the buzzing in his head, comforting him but not reassuring him. At least no one tried to enter, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He wondered where Victoria was and what she was doing. Fine. He didn't care about either. He just wanted to know who she was doing
whatever it was
with and kill the guy.

Victoria was his girlfriend. Right? So, warning other males away with violence was his prerogative.
Right?

He massaged the back of his neck.
Something is wrong with you,
Riley had said. Victoria had agreed, and now Aden did as well. He was uncaring, cold and murderous, his emotions dying before they had a chance to grow, his thoughts traveling dark, dangerous paths he didn't understand.

More than that, he knew things he shouldn't. Like the
names, faults and strengths of vampires he'd never met. Like how blowing the golden horn would summon his allies. Or Vlad's. He knew his way around this home. Every secret passage, every forgotten hidey-hole. And his desire to start a war with anyone and everyone who opposed his rule? That topped the list of weird.

He had become someone else.

How was he supposed to fight this when part of him actually
liked
the changes?

By the time the sun rose, he hadn't yet come up with a decent answer. He was tired, but still too restless to try and sleep. Good thing, too. Being vulnerable in a nest of vipers wasn't wise. On top of that, his meds were wearing off, and the souls were murmuring inside his head. Nothing distinguishable yet but enough to assure him they were with him still.

He was relieved—he supposed.

Mostly, he was hungry. Not for pancakes or cereal or even a bagel, but for blood from a living host. Something else he should care about but didn't. All he wanted was to feed. And he wanted to do it before the souls woke completely and decided to comment about his new eating habits. Although they might understand and accept, considering what they'd witnessed inside the cave.

He stood, his bones creaking from the hours of disuse,
and finally strode out of the throne room. He waited, expectant, but the buzzing never started up again.

Two wolves stood sentry at the double doors, one the pure white of a snowflake, the other a rainbow of golds. They followed him as he walked, not even trying to hide their purpose.

Nathan and Maxwell, Riley's brothers. Undoubtedly his new guards. He'd met them before, so it wasn't strange that he knew them. They were good guys, if a bit irreverent.

One of his feet knocked into the other. See? Those weren't his thoughts. Nathan and Maxwell were good guys, yeah, but Aden had never considered them irreverent before.

Younger vampires wandered in every direction, blood-slaves trailing behind them, worship glazing their eyes.
That could have been me.
In the cave, he'd craved Victoria's bite more than anything in the world. Had wanted to bite her even more than that.

The way his gums throbbed and his teeth ached in a sudden chorus of
oh, please, now,
he still wanted to bite her. Her, and no one else. And he could do so. He was her king. He
would
bite her. He had only to find her.

Or not, he realized next. That's what minions were for.

Minions? Really?

Maybe…maybe the only way to fight this strange new part of himself was to do the opposite of what it wanted. He nodded. That made sense. The first hurdle, of course, was Victoria. He yearned to feed from her, therefore he couldn't feed from her. The second hurdle would be telling her they couldn't spend any more time together.

Telling her would require seeing her. A tingle of anticipation swept through him. Deep down, in the part of himself that he
did
know and
did
understand, he would cut off an arm to see her.

“Take me to Victoria,” he commanded the wolves. There would be no sending minions. Not for this.

Nathan's ears perked up. Maxwell chomped his teeth at him. Then the pair of them bounded in front of him, a silent demand for him to follow. He did and soon found himself in the backyard. The sun was brighter than usual, and despite the chill in the air, he experienced a rush of burning bristles against his skin. Not enough to send him back inside but just enough to annoy him.

Aden? Is that you?
an unsure male voice asked. Julian, alert at last.

Aden should have been happy—the soul sounded like himself and hadn't changed like Aden. Yes, he should
have been. “It's me,” he said, and the wolves stopped to look back at him. He waved them forward.

Comprehension dawned in their gazes, and they obeyed. Aden wished he could think his replies to the souls, but his inner voice was always lost in the chaos.

Dude!
The uncertainty fell away.
We're back with Aden,
Julian whooped happily.
Are we here to stay, E? Come on, Great Oracle of Doom, and help a guy out. Tell me what I want to hear.

Silence.

Elijah must still be sleeping. Caleb, too. Lazy bums.

The wolves stopped, their spines stiffening, their hair standing on end. They looked around, growling at— Aden followed their line of vision through the surrounding forest—nothing but air. Did they sense a threat he couldn't see? He waited, but no one stepped from the trees, and not a single leaf swayed from nearby motion. Had some of his—or Vlad's—allies arrived yet? Would they even come?

The horn was bespelled and had been for over a thousand years, ever since several vampire factions had agreed to aid each other whenever necessary. And yet, not one of those factions had ever used their horn. Would they remember what the summons meant? Would they care?

The growling intensified a split second before a
woman danced her way into the metal circle that designated the crypt. Aden was hypnotized by her. She wore a black robe like all the vampires here, but a hood draped her head, concealing her features. Still, he could see the long length of hair, black as night and cascading like a waterfall over her shoulder.

The wolves didn't stop growling, but they didn't attack her. They must have been as transfixed as he was.

Twirling, twirling, mesmerizing.

There was something familiar about her, something that lit Aden up inside, even as it dragged him down. Whoever she was, she raised the same emotions Mary Ann did. An urge to hug, followed by a need to run.

“Maxwell, Nathan,” he said.

They quieted as they looked over their furry shoulders.

Using minions wasn't a bad idea, really. “Bring Victoria to me,” he said absently.

We should stay with you.
Nathan's voice echoed inside his head.
There's danger here, my king.

Wolves could speak into the minds of those around them. Something Riley had done to him before, so he wasn't startled. And neither was Julian, who probably
couldn't hear the new voice. “From this woman? No. Now go get Victoria and bring her to me.”

They shared a confused look before nodding and clomping off.

He sat down, right there, in front of the circle, watching the woman. She didn't seem to notice him. Her graceful, twirling steps never faltered. Twirling, twirling, a ballerina on ice, her arms outstretched, one leg lifted behind her and bent. Twirling and twirling.

Who was she?

A cough inside his head.
Hello, Aden,
Elijah finally said, then yawned.
How are you feeling?

“Fine.” Kind of.

So are we here to stay or what?
Julian demanded, practically jumping up and down.

I…don't know,
the psychic replied.

O-kay. That was a first.

Explain yourself, please,
Julian huffed. Elijah sighed.
I just woke up. Do we have to do the heavy stuff—

Explain, explain, explain!

You are
such
a child. But fine. Aden's path has been altered so much lately, I can no longer see a clear future for him. He was supposed to die, and that was supposed to be the end of us all. But he didn't, we didn't, and now I can't see what lies ahead.

Perhaps that was a good thing.

That better not mean we're going to die soon. Really die, I mean,
Julian replied, and if he'd had a body he would have been pacing.
Or that we're gonna wake up back inside the vamp. I like her and everything, when she's not going for our jugular, but come on. A guy needs to be a guy.

Nothing wrong with the vamp,
Caleb said, piping up for the first time. Like Elijah, he yawned.
No offense, Aden, but she's hotter than you.

A milk jug is hotter than our Ad,
Julian said with a snicker.

Caleb snorted.
Buuurn.

“Good. The gang's all here.”

Why don't you sound happy?
Julian asked, pouting now.
More important question—why didn't you laugh at my amazing joke?

And why are you so…cold inside?
Caleb asked.
Seriously, it's like a meat locker in here.

Meat locker? When his skin felt molten? “I'm fine. And I don't know.”

I might. What do you remember about your last hour inside that cave with Victoria?
Elijah asked.
Think for a minute, okay, then you can go back to doing whatever it is you're doing.

“Why do you want to know?”

Please. Just do what I told you.

Not an answer, but fine. Whatever. “All right.” Arguing required too much energy. So he thought about it, replaying the events through his head. He'd just bitten Victoria. Just drank from her. She'd just bitten and drunk from him. That hadn't been enough for either of them. They'd fought, tossing each other around like rag dolls, both lost to a hunger that never seemed to be satisfied.

The dancing woman laughed, and Aden wanted to look at her, to see her face softened by humor, but forced himself to concentrate, thinking back…back. The cave. Victoria. The fighting had stopped, and they'd faced off. She'd…glowed. Yes, he remembered now. A glorious golden glow had seeped from her pores, so bright he hadn't been able to look at her. Seeing it, Chompers had gone crazy inside his head, wanting out, desperate to protect him, sensing a predator far stronger than himself was about to be unleashed.

Then, Chompers had gotten his wish. He'd emerged from Aden's body, solidified into dragon form and attacked. Aden had shouted, racing forward, afraid for his girl, willing to throw himself in front of Victoria to save her from being clamped between those too-strong jaws. Only, Victoria had stretched out her hands. The glow
had lanced away from her body and into Chompers, knocking him backward, pinning him to the cave wall.

Victoria had turned her attention to Aden. Again the glow had lanced from her, then slammed into him. He, too, had been thrown backward, pinned on the opposite side, as far away from Chompers as possible. She had closed the distance between them.

Her eyes, usually blue, had then been filled with lavender ice chips and devoid of any emotion. She'd looked him over from head to toe, taking his measure.

A pause. Aden had tried to breathe, couldn't breathe. The energy, or whatever she'd thrown at him, had been tightening its hold on him, shoving his ribs into his lungs, piercing the membrane. Pain had shot through him.

“Victoria,” Aden had gasped out.

She'd blinked at him, as if she'd heard him but hadn't quite understood him. “Victoria.”

She'd opened her mouth to speak. Had spoken. He'd heard the words. Or should have. The sounds she'd made, they'd been—

Enough!
Elijah shouted inside Aden's head, drowning out everything else.

Aden sucked in a breath, suddenly back in the present, the past fading, gone.

That's enough,
Elijah said again, calm this time.

“You wanted me to think back,” Aden said, confused. “I did. You should have let the scene play until the end.” He wanted to know what Victoria had said—and who had been speaking through her. Because that had not been her voice. Too raw, too guttural. Too animalistic.

What are you talking about? What scene? I didn't see anything,
Julian groused.

Me, either,
Caleb said.
What happened?

Nothing,
Elijah lied.
Leave it alone, Aden. You saw all that you needed to see. Frankly, I didn't expect you to remember that much.

Another lie? Elijah never lied. What was going on? “Then why did you have me think back?”