C2 Chapter 2

“Make it stop!”

I’m not sure if I’m talking about the flying dishes or the fire raging from my fingers, but as I say the words, my hands sizzle out, returning to their normal color and temperature. There’s a small pile of ashes on the singed table--what’s left of the letter to my grandfather, but no flames.

I shake from the surge of power I couldn’t control. Time seems to stop as I look at the remains of the letter; the only evidence of my father, of what happened to Gramps, destroyed..

But when another glass shatters to the left of me, I’m brought back to the present. A ghost is haunting me. And ruining my bottom line. I’m honestly more concerned with replacing pint glasses than I am the haunting part. As scary as a specter flinging dishes would have been a week ago, my perception has changed drastically and now I find myself more annoyed by paranormal problems than frightened.

Glasses keep flying and crashing, followed by a few bottles of whiskey. Rune stands behind the bar, closest to the pesky spirit and tries to trace its movements. He stays deathly still, biding his time, while I watch my restocking fees soar.

I want to intervene, to do something, but fear paralyzes me. Fear that my fingers will light fire again and I won’t be able to control it. So I wait, watching as Rune handles the ghost.

With his usual deftness, the fae unleashes a handful of dark orange powder into the air above the bar. It settles around a form, creating a vibrant outline of a man. It looks like a 3D graphic from a video game or something, but it’s there, in real life, hovering above the countertop.

As soon as the dust touches the figure, it freezes. I can’t tell if that’s an effect of whatever Rune threw or if this ghost is just embarrassed he got caught throwing all my shit around.

“Be still, specter,” Rune says, slowly advancing toward the ghost.

“Ask him who he is!” I yell, eager to finally get some answers. “Where did you come from? Why the hell are you breaking my things?”

“Easy, Bernie,” Zev says in his bassy, calming voice. “Unless I’m wrong, and I’m sure professor Rune will correct me if I am, a deceased spirit cannot communicate without the proper medium.”

Rune nods. “That’s true. We can only hope to send him--”

“I can hear you.”

The voice emanates from the spirit, which causes Darius to instinctively grab my arm while Zev growls and Rune prepares to throw another ghost-thwarting powder.

“And you can hear me,” the ghost continues.

“How?” Rune asks, barely above a whisper.

“You brought me into your realm,” the spirit answers calmly. “You created a door, and now I walk between here and the afterlife.”

Perfect. We’ve got an angry ghost that now lives at Morgan’s Pub, breaking my shit and free to come and go as he pleases.

“What do you want?” I ask, exasperation clear in my voice. I don’t have time for this.

“I want you to leave,” the ghost responds, being a complete dick about everything.

“Yeah, well this is my freaking bar and I--”

“Because if you don’t leave,” he cuts me short, the volume and echo in his voice intensifying. “You, your baby, and all of your friends will die.”

The spirit’s words could be interpreted as threatening, but that’s not the vibe I’m getting from him. More like he’s trying to help.

Due to either the eerie tone of the ghost’s voice or all the shattered glass, Rain wakens, crying softly for me. I rush to her, picking her up and tucking her against my chest, doing my best to protect her from... my life.

“Who’s coming?” Darius asks, sharing my belief that the ghost isn’t planning to do any killing.

We all wait with bated breath, standing in silence and hoping for an answer. Instead, the sparkling flakes thrown by Rune start to fall, dissolving the form of the ghost. The figure isn’t moving to another spot in the room, just disappearing before our eyes.

As the last bits of colorful dust fall to the bar, we hear a final whisper from the invisible visitor.

“They all are.”

And then he’s gone, leaving a layer of powder on the copper bar.

I exhale a breath I’ve been holding in too long and my shoulders slump as I realize we’re alone. For now.

Rain begins to cry again, and I think at first it’s because I’m holding her too hard in my efforts to protect her. But when I look down, I see her blanket is singed, her tiny little arms have glowing red fingerprints on them... and my fingers are burning.

Darius is at my side in an instant, taking Rain from me before I drop her on the floor of the bar. And without a word I race outside, swallowing the sob that’s rising in me.

I hurt my child. I burned her soft, perfect skin.

A light rain starts, and as the water hits my flesh, it sizzles.

I slump down against the wall and bury my head in my hands, sobbing.

It isn’t long before I feel a wet nose pushing into my hands.

I flinch back, worried I’ll burn him, but Zev shifts from wolf form to take my hands in his.

“You can’t hurt me,” he says softly. “I burn like you, hot and fierce.” He puts a hand on my heart and takes mine to place on his naked chest.

His skin is hot to the touch, just like mine. And his heart is pounding in beat to my own, too fast, too loud.

“I hurt my baby,” I say, the tears turning to steam on my cheeks.

“Rain is fine. Rune cooled her skin and says there’s no injury to speak of.”

“It could have been so much worse,” I say with a sinking heart. “I can’t hold her.” The words ache as I say them, but I know this is how it must be for now. To protect her. “Not until I get my powers under control. I can’t risk her.”

Zev’s eyes are sad but he nods. “We will make sure she has her every need met. And you will master this. I know it.” His gaze bores into my soul as he speaks. “I know you.”

I nod. “You’re right. I will. I have no choice.”

He kisses my lips lightly, then stands, lifting me up as he does. “Let’s go deal with the ghost, shall we?”

The Sexies tried to talk me out of calling AJ, but they lost that fight before it even started. Either my friend is coming with us to Budapest, or she’s moving to another state, but she’s sure as shit not bartending at my haunted establishment. Morgan’s can close, for all I care. There must be a “brought back a creep from the dead who won’t leave and can’t be killed” clause in my insurance policy, right?

Turns out there isn’t. Also turns out AJ is exactly as stubborn as I could have guessed she would be.

“Not on your life, B,” she says, staring up at me while sitting on my bed. “The ghost we brought out of retirement gave you a warning and now I can’t help you? Bullshit, the bar stays open.”

“AJ, he was throwing glasses--”

“Do you know how many of your pint glasses I’ve thrown?” she asks, knowing damn well I’m still mad about the number of times I got in trouble as a teen after a hammered AJ broke a bunch of glasses.

It’s a standoff. My worry for AJ against her worry for me and Rain. Even if I tell her not to, she’ll come back and open up the bar. Aside from caring about my future, she loves flirting and knowing she’s in control. She’s the happiest she’s been... probably ever. Who am I to take that away from her?

“Fine,” I say. “Stubborn bitch.”

“Takes one to know one.”

I’m proud of us for maturing so well as we’ve aged.

“Alright, since you’re here and you’ve already shot down one request, can I ask you to help me pack?”

Her face falls and I move toward my closet, needing to get my bags filled while Rain’s with the Sexies in the other room. If she didn’t like being told not to tend bar, she really won’t like hearing that we’ve decided to leave in the morning.

“Look, I think you’re right,” I say as I look for the duffle that hasn’t been used since I moved back from New York. “The ghost came to warn us, not to haunt us. All signs point toward us leaving ASAP.”

“But...” AJ trails off, knowing there’s nothing she can say or do. Her eyes drift over to Rain’s empty crib, and I realize that I might still be AJ’s fave, but my baby is a close second.

“We’re coming back, A.”

This isn’t the type of goodbye you can prepare for. I have every intention of returning home after I find out who or what my dad is, and figure out a way to control these ridiculous powers, and fend off a council of magical beings trying to steal my kid. But AJ and I both know I’m not making any promises.

I start throwing shit into my duffle, tossing every type of clothing for every type of season because I know nothing about Budapest. AJ just stands a few feet away watching me, not helping or speaking. If someone was just observing our body language through the window, they’d think this was an awkward breakup.

“I know you’re coming back, but...”

AJ can’t quite finish her thought before turning away to hide her tears. My girl’s not much of a crier--didn’t shed a single tear in front of me when I moved to New York, even though she later confessed to sobbing her way through two full pints of mint chocolate chip later that night. I’m not surprised she’s trying to keep up that tough exterior, but we’re both scared shitless right now and this conversation is pretty emotionally overpowering.

“Look,” I say, picking up where she left off. “I’m traveling with the most powerful dudes in the universe. And dudes who have pledged to protect me, not just my baby.”

AJ nods, then gives me a questioning stare. “For the record, I’m not keeping this bar open so you have a job when you get home. I’m planning to take Morgan’s over when you move away to be famous at piano or whatever. Because that’s still what’s going to happen.”

I laugh, despite knowing she’s totally serious.

“Fair enough,” I say. “But that’s all the more reason for me to go now. No concert hall’s going to book a piano player who glows and needs a vampire to drain her neck every few hours. Speaking of...” I look down at my hands which are starting to crackle with electricity. Panic grips me for a moment, but I take a few breaths and try to center myself the way Rune taught me. I don’t think I’m in danger of losing control, as long as this power is drained from me soon.

Oh, Darius?

I’ve taken to calling my vampire footman with my thoughts whenever I need a reduction in magical powers. Whether it’s practice or a strengthened bond from Darius constantly sucking my blood, I’ve become far more adept at conversing with my mind.

Within seconds, he’s standing in the doorway, mixed emotions on his face. He doesn’t like being told what to do, but I know he loves my blood and he certainly doesn’t seem to mind pressing his body against mine as he feeds from me.

You sparkle, he says, the teasing lilt of his voice clear even through mind speak.

Yes, ha ha. It’s very funny. I raise an eyebrow. Now come do something about it, please. It freaks me out.

Though the vampire succeeded in lightening my mood, he can still sense the fear in me. He dashes across the room and is behind me in a flash. He runs his thumb over the pulsing vein in my neck as he presses his chest against my back.

I shiver in anticipation of what he’s about to do.

“I’d tell you two to get a room,” AJ says with a disgusted sigh as she heads to the door, “but I know this is your room, so I’ll be on my way.”

The moment she reaches the hallway, Darius flicks his wrist, closing the door firmly behind her, and with a small twist of his fingers, the door clicks locked.

He still has a hand on my neck, the coolness of his skin sending waves of heat through me in a striking juxtaposition of sensations. Our bodies are so close I can feel the hard flexing of his abs as he shifts, dropping his hand from my neck to my arm, letting his finger trail my sensitive flesh. I suck in a breath as my legs become less stable than I would like and the butterflies in my stomach begin to swarm.

He slides his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I feel his breath on my neck as his mouth hovers above my flesh.

My skin pulses--from pleasure or power it’s hard to say--but I feel alive with a kind of energy I can’t describe. And the electricity of his every touch feels heightened to an extreme that is becoming harder and harder to endure while keeping my clothes on.

You smell delicious, he says to my mind, his mental voice husky and layered with need.

I’m sure I’ll taste even better, I say, trying to keep my voice cool and unaffected and failing miserably.

I feel the proof of his arousal against my back, and I lean into him, teasing his hardness with the friction.

It’s his turn to suck in a breath, but before I can gloat about my small victory, his arm tightens around my waist and he plunges his teeth into my neck.

The pain is a dark thrill running down my spine and pooling at my feet, and I moan and drop my arm over his, intertwining my fingers with his as he drinks deeply from me.

My head spins, my knees buckle, but he doesn’t let me fall. His grip is firm without being bruising, just enough support so that I can lose myself in him without fear.

He asked me once if I worried he would take too much. I told him no, and it’s true. Each time he feeds from me the silver threads that dance between us grow stronger, forming a deeper bond than I knew was possible. It’s impossible to feel fear of him hurting me, when we’ve already saved each other’s lives.

I can feel the moment he approaches that invisible line by taking too much, like my soul is dancing on the edge of life and death, and once again he pulls back just before going too far.

When his lips pull away, when air hits the tiny bite marks on my neck, the distance between us feels immeasurable. I fight back tears once again at the absence of him and wonder if this is a normal vampire effect. It’s a good predatory move, making the prey crave the hunter as much as the hunter craves the prey.

His tongue flicks at the small wounds, instantly healing them.

I look down at my hands and note they are no longer glowing or sparking like fireworks. Turning in the vampire’s arms so I can face him, I’m about to offer my thanks for once again saving me--and distracting me--when he cuts off my words with his mouth on mine, crushing us together in an almost painful embrace.

His tongue brushes against mine as he deepens our kiss, exploring my mouth with his as his hands rub down my back and over my ass.

I arch into him, my breasts aching as they press into his hard chest, my fingers digging into his back, clutching at his clothes.

I want you. His mental voice is full of need and urgency.

His hands move to cup my ass as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me to the bed. At this angle, I feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against my own desperately aching body, the clothing between us a hardship I can no longer bear.

He lowers me to the bed and with supernatural ease he pulls off my pants and underwear.

I feel suddenly self-conscious about my postpartum body, and I try to move in a way that will maximize my sexiness and hide the mommy bits, but Darius places himself between my knees, spreading them as he runs his hands up my thighs.

“I don’t need to read your thoughts to know what you’re thinking,” he whispers, his fingers lightly brushing up against the sensitive flesh between my legs.

My body quivers with pleasure and a growing need and impatience. “You’re too dressed,” I tell him, even as my mind is a bit in shock that this is really happening.

Am I actually about to have sexy time with a vampire prince? My life is wild.

“Very well,” he says, and moves apart from me just enough to pull off his shirt and remove his pants. He does this much more slowly than I know he can... which means he wants me to enjoy the show.

So I do.

He moves with such fluid grace it’s mesmerizing, pulling me into a trancelike state that I have no desire to fight. Once he is naked, he stands before me, every line of his hardened body a testament to nature’s artistry, and I nearly choke on my own tongue as I finally get a really good look at all that awaits me.

Holy heaven help me.

He grins, clearly reading me like a splayed open and ready-to-be-devoured book. “Now it is you who wears too much,” he says, crawling onto the bed and over me. He makes quick work of the rest of my clothing, reverting back to his vampire speed and impatience, which suits me just fine.

With nothing between us but flesh, he presses into me, our bodies conforming to each other’s as he slides a hand under my head and gazes deeply into my eyes. The dark depths of his undo me, like a black star he uses gravity against me as I fall into him.

“I don’t know if my kind have a soul,” he says, as one hand caresses my head while the other dips between us to tease my body into greater need. “But if I do, you are its mate.”

His words, the movement of his fingers, the feel of his mouth on mine again, claiming my lips... all of it brings my body to the very edge of a cliff. But before I can tip over that cliff and enjoy the explosive freedom of that bodily flight, he tenses and then disappears, the weight of him replaced by an awful emptiness and a chill in the air. I blink and he’s fully dressed, hand on doorknob.

His face is a cold mask. “Get dressed and run!”

And then he is gone.

It takes me a moment to realize he’s not coming back, and the throbbing of my body for his will be left unmet, even as I struggle to understand what the hell could have torn him from my bed and that moment with such haste.

I’m afraid of learning the answer to that question.

I follow his instructions, getting dressed quickly as I strain to sense anything amiss.

I nearly trip over my Budapest bag on the way out, and I kick it to the side. It has everything I need for international travel, but I keep unpacking and packing it, nervous in a way I can’t explain.

I step out of the bedroom, my nerves on edge as I look around for Darius.

When I walk into the living room, I’m surprised to see no one. Darius only walked out of the room seconds before, so he should be here, and I can’t imagine where the others would have gone. And AJ? Where’s she?

I stand alone in silence, and that’s when I notice it’s not actually that silent. There are sounds coming from the bar.

And a smell.

Smoke.

I run out the back door and down the stairs, the crackling of fire getting louder with every step. I can also hear people struggling, and a baby crying.

I glance down at my hands, an irrational fear that I started this fire overtaking me, but no, that’s not possible. This wasn’t me. But if not me, then who?

Before I reach the back entrance, the door flings open and Rune sprints out, his beautiful silver hair singed by the flame. Right behind him is Zev, in wolf form, carrying--with his enormous, intimidating jaws--the knotted end of a blanket bundle that squirms and lets out little cooing sounds.

“Rain?”

“Run, Bernie,” Rune says, taking me by the arm and turning me away. “You must run!”

The urgency of his voice makes me want to obey, but I can’t blindly follow. “Darius?” I ask, resisting Rune’s pull.

“We’ll meet Darius in the woods,” Rune says, giving me another tug. “If he survives.”