Zane’s Redemption (8 page)

“Don’t you?” she challenged.

Zane raised his head to look at her. Her long, curved lashes fluttered for a brief moment before sweeping upwards as her eyes opened fully, her gaze suddenly pinning him with more intensity than before.

Did Portia suspect that he didn’t want her to hate him, that the emotion he most wished from her was as far away from hate as humanly possible, yet at the same time was only separated from it by a sliver as thin as the thread of control he had left? “Hate is the only reliable emotion left.” Love couldn’t survive the challenges in this world.

“Hate is the most destructive and useless of all feelings.”

Zane cocked an eyebrow. “That’s because you’ve never experienced true hate. You have no idea of its power.” It was a power that drove him, that contributed to his survival. Without it, he wouldn’t have survived the first few weeks as a vampire. Only hate had kept him alive then. It had become a trusted companion, one he could rely upon not to desert him.

“There’s a greater power than hate.”

“If you’re getting religious on me, you might as well—”

“I’m talking about love,” Portia interrupted him.

Instinctively, he pulled back and noticed the responding satisfactory glint in her eyes.

Her lips quirked. “So that’s what you’re afraid of. Love.”

Her words catapulted him upright in a millisecond. Zane rose as fast as if she was pointing a stake at his chest. In one fluid movement he turned his back to her. “I think you should go to your room now. It’s past your bedtime.”
And safer for you
, he wanted to add.

He heard the sound of the couch cushions as she shifted and stood. “Well, I guess I hit that one out of the park.” Portia marched past him, and from what he could tell, she deliberately brushed her body against his side, the brief touch searing him like a branding iron marred the flesh of a calf.

“You think your Psych 101 makes you an expert in analyzing people?”

“I’m a Psych major, so, yes, I do.”

Pride dictated that he not let her win this argument. “You know nothing about me, and you never will.”

She didn’t turn as she set her foot on the first stair. Her words were low as she murmured as if talking to herself, but he heard them all the same. “Watch your back, tough guy.”

Watch yours, or you’ll find yourself on it soon
, he wanted to respond but didn’t.

Chapter Eight

The door snapped in behind Zane as he entered his foyer, the rising sun on his heels. He’d preyed on an unsuspecting pedestrian on his way home, feeling so agitated by his argument with Portia that he had taken longer than normal to feed. And even after the two full pints of blood he’d taken, his body felt unsatisfied. He knew only too well what he needed to gain the satisfaction his body demanded, but that knowledge didn’t bring him any closer to obtaining what he so desperately sought: a taste of Portia, not simply a kiss or a quick fuck, but more, a taste of her blood, her arousal, her heart.

Her words and the look on her face when she’d spoken them had whirled his insides up like a tornado ripping through a Midwestern town, leaving only destruction and devastation behind. Suddenly, he hadn’t been the one in charge. She’d taken over the reins and whipped him by exposing his greatest fear.

To love again.

He’d loved his parents and his sister. He’d loved the words he’d used to craft beautiful masterpieces. He’d loved the sound of birds singing in the back yard.

He’d loved life.

Then they had robbed him of everything: his parents, his sister, and his passion. And finally, his life.

They’d taken everything away from him because of who he was and replaced it with nothing but a heart full of hatred and a drive for revenge. To love again would only serve as a painful reminder of his loss. The fraction of his soul that was still intact would shatter from the impact of another loss, one that surely would occur if he allowed his heart to soften.

He’d made a promise long ago that justice would be done. Only if he remained stalwart could he achieve his goal and make good on his promise. Love had no place in his life.

Zane shrugged off his leather coat and tossed it over the chair in the hallway. His next step landed him in something soft. The accompanying smell he only now registered because he’d been too preoccupied when he’d entered his house, confirmed that he had a mess on his hands.

“Z!” he yelled. “Where the fuck are you?”

He knew it had been a bad move to leave the dog alone at home. He should have locked him outside in the yard. Flipping the light switch, Zane lifted his boot and inspected the damage. Great! The grooves of his soles were caked with dog shit.

“I’m going to kill you, Z!”

The dog clearly knew his lesson on self-preservation because he didn’t show his snout anywhere. Not that it would save him from punishment. Hiding would only delay the inevitable.

Fuming, Zane charged into the kitchen and yanked a towel from the rack. As he cleaned up the dog’s mess, he cursed Yvette once more. She could have at least housetrained the pup before palming him off on an unsuspecting new owner. Owner? Not if he could help it. Tonight the dog would be history.

He tossed the dirty towel on the floor to be disposed of later. His boots landed in the kitchen sink before he stalked barefoot into the living room. It was empty. Well, almost: there was an oversized leather couch facing a monstrous high-definition TV. Apart from those two items, the living room was bare; no rug, no coffee table, no paintings on the white walls. He’d still not gotten around to decorating the place beyond the bare necessities, despite the fact that he’d bought the house over five months ago.

“Zee-eee, daddy’s home,” he cooed, but the damn animal didn’t respond.

Zane inhaled and, ignoring the stench from the dog’s shit, he concentrated on the underlying scent of the dog’s fur. He lifted his head. “Gotcha.”

Making no sound, he walked up the stairs to the second floor and headed for his bedroom. The upstairs floor had originally had three bedrooms, and he’d chosen the largest one, which faced the garden and was leading out to a small deck, as his master bedroom. He’d converted the second bedroom into a large bathroom and dressing room, leaving the second bathroom on this floor as a guest bath. Considering he never had guests, it was an unnecessary luxury. He halted for a moment, remembering that Quinn was due to arrive the next day. He wasn’t sure yet whether to look forward to his visit or dread it. Right now, he had too much stuff on his mind to make a decision about that.

When he entered his bedroom through the open door, he heard the dog’s shallow breaths. He closed the door behind him, making sure the little pup had no chance to escape. Not seeing the animal in the room, it wasn’t hard to figure out where he was hiding. After all, there was only one item of furniture suitable as a hiding place.

Zane switched on the light, allowing the forty watt bulb hidden underneath a hideous looking shade he’d inherited from the previous owner to illuminate the room. It reminded him once more that he desperately needed to put his own touch on the rest of the place just as he’d done with the bathroom. But first things first.

He dropped to the floor and peered under the bed. As expected, Z was crouching underneath it, right in the middle of the king-sized piece of furniture, safe for now. His round eyes were wide as they stared at him. Did that dog know what he’d done, or was he simply reacting to Zane’s fury? Zane took a breather. Hell, he didn’t know the first thing about dogs. He should be the last person to own one.

“Come on, little Z, be a good dog and come out.” Zane felt like a fool as he coaxed the stupid animal with a voice only reserved for babies and, well, dogs. If anybody saw him like this, he’d have to silence that person forever.

Z set one paw in front of the other, and, tilting his head, he crawled forward a few inches. Zane reached his hand underneath the bed, but the dog shrunk back from him. He clenched his jaw. Stupid animal!

“Come now, Z, you must be hungry,” he tempted the pup, dropping his voice to a sweet cooing sound.

The animal took another few tentative movements toward him. Zane dropped his hand on the floor, laying it flat, palm up. “Come to daddy.” Ah, shit, he was turning into a complete idiot.

A moment later, Z licked over his palm and came within striking distance. Zane acted, snatching the dog around his neck and pulling him from his hiding place as Z made a futile attempt to dig his hindquarters into the wooden floor, making a scratching sound with his claws.

“Gotcha!”

Zane rose with the pup in his arms. When the animal curled into him and made puppy eyes at him, all steam went out of Zane. He couldn’t punish the animal. Yet, somebody needed a talking to.

Holding onto Z, he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell, pressing the speed dial button with his thumb. When the call connected a few moments later, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“The fucking dog isn’t housebroken!”

 Haven’s calm voice responded, “Ah, Zane, figured you’d call sooner or later.”

“I wanna talk to your wife!”

Haven’s voice turned quieter. “Baby, Zane’s a tad pissed off. Do you wanna talk to him or shall I handle him for you?”

“I’M NOT PISSED OFF!” He was livid.

Z gave a frightened whine. Instinctively, Zane stroked his thumb over the animal’s neck, calming it.

“Morning, Zane.”

Hearing Yvette’s voice, he repeated his accusation. “The dog isn’t housebroken!”

“Of course he’s housebroken.”

“Then why is he shitting all over the house?”

“What do you expect him to do?” Yvette protested. “Open the door and let himself out when he needs to go?”

Zane opened his mouth and shut it again instantly. Shit, he hadn’t thought of that. “Oh.”

“So, either you lock him out in the garden when you’re gone, or you’ll have to build in a doggie door.”

“I’m not keeping him!” At the words, Zane dropped his gaze to the dog who contently rubbed his snout against his shirt.

“He’s perfect for you. Besides, you can’t just return a gift. It’s not polite.”

“You call that a gift? And since when do I care about being polite?”

“He’ll grow on you,” she assured him.

“He’ll piss on me, that’s what’s gonna happen.” But he couldn’t refute Yvette’s claim entirely. The little creature had its undeniable charm. That alone was annoying as hell. He wouldn’t be felled by an animal he could easily squash with one hand if he chose to do so.

“Not if you get that doggie door. Listen, I’ll call the guy who built mine in. He does a great job and he’s fast. I’ll send him right over. See ya!”

“Hell, no—” But Yvette had already disconnected the call, not giving him a chance to protest any further.

“Guess I’m stuck with you,” he said to the dog and rubbed his neck.

Z turned his head and licked over Zane’s arm as if wanting to thank him. Clearly the dog didn’t know yet that Zane wasn’t exactly the most jovial of masters—or he had an extremely forgiving nature. He would soon wish he was back with Yvette in her cozy cottage, surrounded by all that love. In the meantime, before the dog deserted him, Zane shrugged off the odd sense that a wave of change was sweeping into his life. The jury was still out regarding who would ultimately benefit from this change.

When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, he had to hand it to Yvette. At least she kept to her word, and she’d clearly not praised the worker too much: he was fast.

Zane pressed one of the many buzzers he’d installed throughout the house so he could open the front door during the day without leaving the security of his darkened rooms. He listened for the door to open while he refilled the dog’s water bowl from the kitchen faucet.

His dirty boots were still stinking up the place. That and the excited yapping of the dog at his feet distracted him from his visitor until it was too late.

“Zacharias Eisenberg.”

Zane whirled around. It took him a millisecond to recognize several things: the intruder was a hybrid vampire of average height and build, he wasn’t here to install a doggie-door, and he knew of Zane’s past. Addressing him by his real name confirmed that, which also made one thing clear: the intruder was here to kill him.

The water bowl dropped from his hands, its contents spilling on the tile floor as Zane lunged for his would-be assassin. His claws extended and his fangs descended from their sockets, ready for the kill.

An iron fist blocked him and jerked him to the side as his shoulder took the impact of the strike. Instantly, Zane refocused, ignoring the temporary pain, and swiped his claws against his opponent’s chest, but only sliced through the outer layers of clothing and skin.

Z yapped and snarled from the sidelines.

The hybrid’s face barely registered the pain. Instead, he kicked his legs high against Zane’s thighs and hips, slamming him back against the sink. Zane pushed off the counter, using the momentum to barrel his full weight against the fractionally lighter assassin. They crashed against the glass hutch, breaking every pane of it.

His jaw clenching in concert with the tension in his body, Zane pounded his claws into the man, but he got as good as he gave. The attacker’s claws were sharp and relentless, and only now Zane noticed that the intruder’s hands were covered in cutoff gloves, protecting his palms while allowing his claws to emerge.

“Shit!” Zane cursed.

A nasty grin flashed on the hybrid’s face and disappeared just as quickly as he continued to use his claws against Zane. Despite his average size, he matched Zane in strength and ferocity, dealing blow after blow without showing any outward signs of exhaustion.

Zane drew his arm back to prepare for a strike when a kick into his kneecap temporarily halted his movements while he tried to absorb the pain. In the next instant, he felt a searing sensation on the front of his neck, followed by the smell of burnt flesh and body hair rising into his nose. Silver! Zane recoiled from the pain and toppled backwards. The action sent him careening to the floor.