Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 2

THE COLDEST CASE

Athan awoke to the sound of his alarm clock blaring next to him on the bedside table. 5:00 P.M … time to head to the precinct. Two nights ago, he’d drawn the blackout curtains before dawn and for the first time in two centuries—he had dreamed. Dreamt of that girl … her face. He knew he was still a vampire. He had tested that theory with the immortal gifts that he still possessed. Even found courage enough to pass his tattooed hand through a swatch of sunlight—at noon, no less. He didn’t burn. Didn’t even feel any pain from it but was still afraid to risk stepping outside to see what Boston looked like in the daylight. Something he hadn’t seen in what seemed like an eternity. He slammed a palm over the snooze button and raised himself to sit.

It was Monday night. The beginning of a week that might end with a request to switch shifts for the first time since he’d come to Boston. If it turned out that walking in the daylight was safe, this could turn a new chapter in the way he was going to crush his coven beneath his heel. He still couldn’t figure out how, or what had been so different about that girl in the alley that left him with a gift he didn’t deserve. He wanted to know who she was. Wanted to go to her funeral. Find out what she was like from the people that were going to miss her. All because he couldn’t fight off the hunger for her life essence. Athan wondered how long she’d laid there before someone found her and beneath the ink that splayed across the skin of his bare chest, his new heart ached.

He slid a thumb over the ointment that coated the fresh tattoo over his breast—a raven that matched hers, the word “Nevermore” across it. As if it had summoned him, the racket of cawing sounded from a large cage in his living room. Athan slid from the edge of the bed and padded into the hallway flicking on a lamp as he entered the den. A soft knock at the door had a muscle in his jaw feathering as he opened the door to Poe’s cage. The large raven hopped onto his arm and stared at the tattoo as if looking into a mirror. Athan brushed the back of his finger across the breast of the bird.

“I know you’re up, Kane. If you’re not gonna answer the phone, then answer the door.” Rhaena’s muffled voice said from behind his front door. Poe squawked as Athan set him atop his perch stand next to the leather couch. Rhaena knocked again, harder this time. “Kane!” He slid the chain lock aside and unlatched the deadbolt, opening the door to meet her stare. Rhaena tossed her hands up in front of her and shook her head with eyebrows that shot to her hairline. “What the hell?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips .

“Morning, Rhaena,” Athan said, rolling his eyes as he turned away from her and made his way into the kitchen. The door started closing on her and she pushed into it, letting herself in and slamming it shut behind her.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for two days.” The heel of her boots clicked softly against the tile floor as she followed him in and slunk down in a chair at the small dining room table.

“You of all people should know that as a sign that I wanna be left alone.”

“Why? What happened?” Rhaena asked, watching him take a strip of meat from a container in the fridge and toss it through the breakfast nook into the living room. Poe dove for it, catching it in his beak and taking his time to devour it. Athan shut the refrigerator door and slowly turned to face her, leaning against the counter with both hands gripping the edge. Rhaena spotted the fresh tattoo above his nipple and her face slackened. “Oh…” She raised her eyes back to his. “Shit.”

“… Yeah …” he breathed, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“When did this happen?”

He took a long moment before he answered, his eyes never reaching her face. “Friday night.” A deep sigh escaped him as he pushed off the counter and swept past her to make his way back to his bedroom. Rhaena didn’t ask as she followed and Athan reminded her of that mistake when he slammed the door in her face. She leaned against the wall in the hallway, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Are you okay?”

Athan shuffled between the shirts hanging in his closet trying earnestly to block out the sound of the heart beating off-rhythm in his chest. Trying not to think too long on the face of the woman he left in that alley. He washed up and got dressed, pulling on a studded leather jacket as he strode for the bedroom door. As he pocketed his keys, cigarettes, and phone from the dresser he knelt down to grab his motorcycle helmet and stopped dead—his hooded coat lay discarded near the bathroom door. He swallowed as he tucked the helmet into his elbow and reached into the pocket to pull out the necklace he’d taken from her. It dangled from his fingers, a faint whisper echoing wordless nonsense in his mind. Something tugged deep within him as he laid it carefully into a small box in his top drawer and quietly pushed it shut.

Rhaena was waiting for him when he reached the living room, sucking on the side of her finger and sneering at Poe with a fierceness in her deep brown eyes. The bird blatantly ignored her and puffed out his chest as Athan entered.

“Your pigeon hates me,” she drawled, inspecting the small cut on her finger.

“Can’t imagine why.” Athan clicked his tongue and held an arm out. Rhaena winced as Poe flapped past her and landed on his extended limb. “Tastes like shit, doesn’t she?” He smirked, earning a muffled chirp from his pet as he locked him back into the cage .

“You’re such a dick.” Her heels dug into the carpet as she prowled toward the front door, Athan following close behind. They lingered in the hallway of their building while he locked the door. “Cap wants to see us as soon as we get there. I didn’t know it was that kind of weekend … you should have called.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Locking myself up doesn’t make it go away, Rhaena. I wasn’t as fortunate as you.” Athan replied without looking at her as he pulled the key from the door.

“Being born with the problem doesn’t make it easier. I could have been here for you, at least.” They started trekking to the elevator.

“You know when to expect your change. I can’t set my clock on it. You and I both know the only way to satisfy the monster is to give it what it wants.”

“You held out longer than last time,” she offered, pushing the button.

“Only by a few weeks.” The elevator bell dinged, and they stepped in, grateful to have it to themselves. It was quiet for a moment before she spoke again.

“You aren’t raging like the last time. Last year I nearly beat a hole through my wall with your thrasher music going all day. This time you just seem—”

“We’re not talking about it, Rhaena.”

“Fine,” she forfeit, watching his blurry reflection in the elevator doors.

The parking deck was already dark. Good. The sound of rain roared through the space as they trudged between cars, Rhaena’s heels clicking against the cement. The alarm on her black SUV beeped twice and Athan peeled the cover off his motorcycle that was parked next to her.

“Why don’t you just ride with me? It’s pouring.”

Athan ignored her, zipping up his jacket and pulling the helmet down over his head. She watched him start it up, lingering in her open door as he sped out and disappeared into the storm.

Rhaena Northwood was a good cop. She was tough, had thick skin, and could piece together cases better than most in the 12th precinct. She ignored the bullshit her male colleagues liked to throw at her—when her temper would allow it. When it didn’t, she’d take it out on the bag in the training center or toss around a rookie or two who mouthed off on the wrong day. By all standards, her weaknesses were few … except when it came to her partner and only friend—Athan Kane. Together, they were the masterminds behind covering up the existence of their kind from human knowledge.

Athan had been too aware all those years ago when he’d moved into the apartment next door to hers just a couple of nights before the full moon that month. On the night she changed, she’d nearly killed him when he broke in to investigate what sounded like a murder in his new building. She hadn’t locked herself in her chains quick enough and left four huge gashes across his abdomen when he tried to offer his help. There were two things she’d realized then. For one, he didn’t seem surprised to see an enormous werewolf hiding out in an apartment in Boston. For two—the wounds she’d inflicted on him had disappeared beneath his torn shirt when she’d shifted back into her human form.

He had almost looked grateful. Grateful that she’d asked what the hell he was, and grateful that he wasn’t alone even though she could tell that was the only thing he wanted people to think. A loner … just like herself. They were an unlikely pair, and never romantically involved—except for a handful of times when their sexual frustration got the better of them. But that was an understanding between them both that sex was all it would ever be … for a number of reasons. Not to mention her heightened senses made it nearly impossible to enjoy it over the scent of dead blood and old bones. He made up for that with his stamina and the fact that even being a vampire, who werewolves were biologically inclined to despise, he might have been one of the most attractive men she’d ever laid eyes on.

Despite their differences, it was fair to say that Rhaena cared deeply for him. Deeply in the sense that without him, she was just the lone wolf. It was nice having someone who was somewhat like her to share loneliness with. She’d defend him, even if he was wrong. Protect him, even if he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. She knew that Kane had his weaknesses too, even if he was too closed off to admit it—or even see it.

Something was different about him today. She didn’t want to admit that when she’d spent the last two days calling his phone and talking herself out of knocking on his door, she had actually been a little worried about him. It was definitely not the first time that she’d witnessed the days following a human feed, but it was the first time he’d been so … broken about it. It wasn’t unusual for him to shut her out. He did that to everyone. But the way that he had done it this evening told her that whatever life he’d claimed on Friday night had done something to him that even he couldn’t shake off. Rhaena had known that he’d set up a meeting with the coven leader at the Black Bird tavern that night. Athan had told her a little about Dahlia Van Hausen, the vampiress who had sired him two centuries ago. She knew what the meeting was about and what bargain he had made to leave that place and get as far away as the bitch would allow him.

Rhaena’s mind started mulling over what little details she was starting to gather. If he wouldn’t talk now, perhaps he’d talk later and wouldn’t have to give too much. As she drove down the flooded street toward the precinct, her finger swiped across the screen on her dashboard. Two rings and a male voice picked up the call.

“Jenkins.”

“Brandon, it’s Northwood. I need a favor.”

“Yeah, what’s up? ”

“I need you to track a GPS.”

“Right now?”

“No, from Friday night.”

“Alright. Who we trackin’?”

She slapped her palm against her steering wheel and bit down on her lip, the guilt of sticking her snout into his business a little heavy.

“… Kane.”

“Seriously?”

“Do it quietly, please. Report only to me.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks.”

She tapped the screen again and the beep from the call ending screeched in her ears way more than it should have. Something about it felt wrong, but she had to know. She could barely see the taillight from Athan’s motorcycle as it weaved through traffic ahead of her. The traffic signal turned red, and she stopped, running a hand through her wavy brown hair, and blowing out a nervous breath. If Athan found out she was going behind his back, he’d likely never trust her again … or worse. But something about the way he looked tonight had her deciding it was worth the risk.

The muffled sounds of a heart monitor beeping eased her into consciousness as weak hazel eyes fluttered open above a cannula that was wedged up her nose. She was freezing. Everything hurt. The smell of pure oxygen hissing into her nostrils had her aware of where she was. Blurred fluorescent lights above her came into clearer view, and an unfamiliar face appeared over her. She flinched. The pain in her neck shot down the length of her body at the movement and she groaned softly as the stranger placed gentle hands on her arms.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You were in an altercation and you’re in the hospital. Can you tell me your name?”

Her mouth was so dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of it, and she swallowed as she looked around the room. “Sarah …” she replied hoarsely, her voice little more than a rattled whisper.

“Good, good. Can you rate your pain from one to ten? Ten being unbearable.” The nurse shined a light into her eyes and Sarah blinked from its unwelcome brilliance. She held up seven fingers. “Okay. I’m gonna go get your doctor and we’ll bring you something for that. I’ll be right back.”

She’d barely heard the last few words as she drifted back to sleep.

Athan’s chair squeaked every time he moved in it. As he tossed his helmet underneath his desk, he smirked at the irritated growl from the desk across from his. He could have oiled the thing … or replaced it altogether. But he lived to annoy Rhaena. He booted up his computer and shuffled the stack of folders he’d pulled from the desk drawer.

“One day, you’re gonna come in and not have a damn chair at all. One day, I’ll take the greatest joy in ripping that piece of shit apart and beating you with every—”

“Kane! Northwood!” a deep voice rang out from the office across the precinct. Athan raised his attention to the captain, who leaned outside his door to wave them both over. Captain Foley was an esteemed individual, a decorated veteran, and a no-bullshit type of boss. Athan respected him, and he might argue that Foley was one of the few people he’d met in his lifetime that he could actually say he liked. Liked enough that he sometimes felt guilty for keeping so much truth from him about the world humankind knew little to nothing about.

Rhaena shot him a look as they raised from their seats and made their way past colleagues who glanced toward them as they followed Foley into his office.

“Shut the door behind you, Northwood,” he said softly as he rounded his desk, his six-foot frame coming to rest almost gracefully as he lowered into his chair. Athan took one of the seats across from him and Rhaena followed suit, dropping into the one beside him. “I read your report on EverLife. Were you successful in getting any further information on that over the weekend?” Foley’s long fingers twined together across his desk.

“No, sir. Just that nothing was taken, and the break-in was sabotage. Cameras were cut near the labs and what footage we did get; the suspect was masked.” Athan straightened in his seat.

“Anybody give you any reason to believe it was an inside job?”

“No, sir. But I’m still working on it.”

Foley turned his attention to Rhaena. “What about you, Gloves?” Athan tried to hide his amusement. Rhaena hated that nickname. Had earned it sparring with Foley’s best men. “Did you find out what they contaminated the specimens with?”

“According to the lab supervisor, the blood was tainted with influenza. A strain strong enough to resist antibodies.”

“The higher ups want to know if we suspect this coming from some terrorist group.” Foley leaned forward and glanced between them both.

“We don’t believe so, sir,” Athan offered.

“And what about the murders? Do we have anything that could tie them in?”

They both knew. Neither one looked at each other. The bodies that were mounting up were because of the lack of blood coming out of EverLife. Forensic teams hadn’t been able to peg it on any one suspect, nor any animal that matched the many strands of DNA that was left on the wounds or the crime scenes. They knew who was responsible and it was becoming more and more taxing to make excuses to cover this shit up.

“I think they’re connected sir, but I haven’t been able to find the proof I need,” Athan said, trying not to fidget beneath the captain’s stare.

“What makes you think that?” Foley asked, pinning him harder.

“Just a gut feeling.”

Captain Foley’s dark skin beaded with sweat, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t go on gut feelings, Kane. I need you to find whoever is doing this shit before the feds start trying to get their hands in the pot.”

“I understand, sir.”

“That being said, here’s a little gift.” He tossed a file across his desk and Athan leaned forward to grab it. “I need you to go to the hospital uptown and question the only surviving witness we have in all this mess.” Athan narrowed his eyes and lowered his brows in confusion, Rhaena doing the same.

“Witness?” Athan asked, a sick feeling twisting in his gut.

“Yep. Some bum found her across town in an alley, barely alive on Saturday. I got word from a source that she’s finally awake. This might be the only lead we’ve got, and we need to follow it. Whether it ties these two things together or not doesn’t make any damn difference to me.” Foley leaned back in his seat and Athan’s pale face grew two shades lighter as he opened the folder.

The inaudible whispering fluttered in the back of his head as he peered down at the face that had haunted his dreams over the weekend. Her lifeless hazel eyes flashed in his mind, and he stared at the ones that matched the photo that he now held in his hands. All sound drowned out around him, and bile threatened to creep up his throat. He glanced to the right of the page. His mystery victim had a name.

Sarah … fuck. Oh, fuck.

“Kane …” Rhaena’s soft voice broke his concentration. He tore his eyes from the photo and looked over at her. “Did you hear me?”

He swallowed hard. “No, sorry. What?”

“We can ride together.”

“No.” He snapped the file shut and raised from his chair. “I’ll go alone this time.” Foley stared up at him, his brows drawn.

“You alright, kid?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll get it done.”

Athan moved past the back of Rhaena’s seat, and she turned in it to watch him as he opened the door. He said nothing. Didn’t even look at her as he stormed back toward his desk. She had caught up to him by the time he had bent over to grab his helmet, gun, and badge.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, palming the side of her desk and leaning toward him. He ignored her, looping the badge around his neck and holstering his weapon. “Athan!” Rhaena growled, stepping in front of him when he tried to leave.

“What. ”

“You’re not telling me something. Whether you wanna share all your personal problems with me or not is your choice, but as your partner, I deserve to know what’s going on.” She crossed her arms.

The muscles in his jaw twitched and his eyes darkened as he looked at hers. “Later.” They stared at each other for a long moment before she finally stepped aside and let him past. He could feel her eyes on him the whole way to the precinct elevator.

Rhaena tapped the end of her pen frantically against the stack of reports she was bent over, her chin resting against the palm of her hand as she stared across her desk at Athan’s empty chair. Something was fucking wrong. She’d never seen that look in his eyes before. She didn’t even get to see the file he had been staring at. Whatever was in it spooked him—and spooked him good. She was just about to get up and ask the captain if he had a copy when—

“Northwood,” a male voice said from behind her. She spun around to face him. Jenkins. “Here’s that tail you asked me for. If he finds out, you didn’t get that shit from me. Keep me outta whatever this is between y’all.” He handed her a file and, like an idiot, looked around the precinct as if he were trying his best to look suspicious before leaving her to her thoughts.

“Thanks.” He didn’t turn back, instead throwing up a couple fingers in reply. She turned her chair back around and spread the paperwork over her desk, cursing under her breath and hoping like hell she’d be wrong about wherever that victim had been found Saturday morning. “What the hell did you do, Kane,” she whispered, slowly shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair.

He should have been with her. He shouldn’t have left that creepy ass bar without the woman who was supposed to become his wife. His father angrily paced back and forth across his home office in a pretty mansion in the wealthiest neighborhood in Boston, his manicured hands crossed behind his back.

“Do you know if you were photographed at that club?” Senator Conrad Stratford asked, never looking at his son who sat toying nervously with his lip in a leather chair by a massive fireplace.

“I don’t,” Brent murmured as he stared blankly at a spot on the floor.

“Do you know what this will cost us in the press?” He stopped pacing and turned to face him. “Do you even give a shit about anyone but yourself, son?” Brent furrowed his brows and looked his father in the eyes .

“Myself?” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the knees of his pressed black slacks. “This isn’t my war, Dad. If you wanted the information so badly, maybe you should have dated her instead and left me out of it.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t get something out of this situation, Brent. A girl that looks like that must be ravenous in the sack. You know what happens after you break a woman in good?” Conrad smirked and pointed a finger toward him. “Pillow talk.”

“For God’s sake.” Brent rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his face to the bookshelf along the wall.

“Tell me you’ve got something from her. Anything. ” His father stepped closer to his chair.

“Not much. Just some vague information about her mother. She doesn’t like to talk about her that much. I can’t say I blame her.”

Conrad snorted and poised a hand to his hip. “You’re falling for the broad.” Brent flashed his eyes at him and sneered. “Christ, Brent. You’re a brilliant lawyer, but you’ve got shit for balls. Stop being a soft little lad and act like there’s something between your legs that doesn’t resemble a pussy. The players are on the board, but I can’t move them if you don’t supply the battle plans. You have one job, and an easy one at that. Handle it. You almost lost our best chance Friday night. If she’d died, I’d be fighting the coroner over what I need instead of getting it straight from the source. You’re sharing a fucking bed with it.”

“She’s a good person.”

“If she’s so amazing, why weren’t you there?” Brent’s jaw feathered at the question, and he looked away, bringing his fingers back to his lip. “Fix it. If you can’t handle her the easy way, then you won’t like how I’ll have to handle her if I have to do it myself.” Conrad stepped over to a small table by the large bay window and poured two fingers of scotch. He brought the glass to his mouth and met his son’s gaze. “You can go.”

Brent stood, clenching his teeth and straightening his dark sweater before prowling out of his father’s door. As his footsteps echoed down the long hallway, his gut felt hollow and mangled. He had a good idea what his father meant by handling Sarah himself. It would be worse than whatever she was going through now in that hospital. A hospital she wouldn’t even be at had he not left that night. He never asked for this. He’d never expected to actually care for her. His keys jingled as he fished them out of his pocket, and he ran a hand through his blonde hair.

“Why do hospitals charge so fucking much?” Wren said over a mouthful of chocolate pudding as she sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed. “Like, they charge you your whole soul for good pain meds, surgeries … damn bandages.” She spooned another mouthful. “But everybody knows what their secret weapon is for everything.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “Cubes of Jell-o and pudding cups.” She smiled down at Sarah, tu rning the spoon over on her tongue and closing her dark brown lips over it as she pulled it out.

Sarah rested a styrofoam cup with a straw jutting out of the top against her chest as she forced a smile at her friend. Wren had stayed ever since they’d allowed her in after she’d finally woke for longer than a few minutes. Sarah knew that her best friend was overridden with guilt for what had happened after she’d decided to stay at the club and leave her to fend for herself. She didn’t blame her for the attack. It could have happened to anyone—could have happened to them both had Wren left with her. She had told her that much every time she heard another apology. It was difficult for Sarah to hide that she’d awoke with a cold feeling of the darkest rage a couple of hours ago. She was handling it well … too well. She raised her knees beneath the shitty excuse for a blanket and tucked her hair behind the stack of piercings on her right ear.

“You don’t have to stay. I’m really okay” she said softly. Wren lowered her cup of dessert to her lap.

“Someone needs to be here with you.”

“No … no, they don’t. You brought me my laptop and books. They’ll suffice.” Sarah cleared her throat, wincing and grazing the large bandage on her neck with her fingers. “Who’s taking care of Denver?”

“Denver is an animal. He can manage. Cats are easy that way, man. They can find their own food if they’re hungry, bathe themselves…” Wren lowered her head and bit down on her lip when Sarah didn’t acknowledge her. “Look, friend … if you wanna be alone, just say so. I’m not a pussy. I can handle it.”

“I do,” Sarah said simply, staring forward at the peak of her raised knees. It wasn’t a second later that Brent’s knuckle softly knocked at the open door, and he stepped in, carrying a vase of obnoxious looking flowers. Sarah cursed under her breath. Wren didn’t bother keeping her insults quiet as he rounded the hospital bed and sat the vase on a small table by the window.

“Hey, babe.” He smiled sweetly, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. Sarah’s mouth tightened and then relaxed. “How you feelin’?”

“Overwhelmed,” Sarah spat, surprising herself as well as her companions with the force behind it. This wasn’t her. Didn’t feel at all like her. It had come out of nowhere. She shook her head, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.”

Fuck … why am I so angry?

Her blood hummed in her veins and a strange … tug? A pull? Something she didn’t recognize tightened in her stomach. Tightened enough that it blurred out the sound of whatever Brent and Wren were saying as she swiped a palm over her face and rubbed harshly. She should have been happy. Happy that she was alive and had survived something most people likely would have died from. She should have been grateful to have someone here that cared about her and was glad to know that she was alright. Before she had moved to Boston, she’d had no one left. No siblings, no father … no mother. Having the only two people in her life that meant anything to her in this room should have given her comfort—but it just didn’t tonight. She wanted them out. Wanted some space and some time to come to grips with what happened. Which would have been easier if she’d known what the hell that was.

Another knock at the door set her off. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Sarah yelped, startling both Brent and Wren as they flinched and backed away—that was until she moved her hand away from her face and caught sight of the figure standing in the doorway.

She was alive. How the hell was she alive? He had checked her pulse and there was nothing left. There was no life in that distant hazel stare when he’d left her to rot in the alley. For the first time in he couldn’t remember when, Athan felt sick. He had just bitched Dahlia to kingdom come about the mess he was having to clean up for her and the coven and then the lead that his captain had given him was likely going to be the one thing to blow their whole cover—and it had been his fault. Despite all of that, some part of him … a part that was foreign and new … was being drawn to this girl. If he was being the least bit honest with himself, he had been drawn to her even before he’d attacked her. He couldn’t explain it and wasn’t going to try to right now.

No, right now, he’d have to be Detective Kane. Not a piss-poor excuse for a vampire, or a man, but a professional that was going to help the girl he’d thought he killed figure out the pieces that he was going to have to explain away. Part of him was relieved that somehow, for once … he hadn’t killed a human. The other part of him selfishly wished he had. She was about to be in the middle of something that she didn’t deserve to be dragged into.

His fault … this was all his fault.

The buckles on his black boots clinked as he walked down the bright hallways of the community hospital, putting off the facade that he was eerily calm. On his dark insides, the heart he wasn’t yet accustomed to thrashed against his ancient ribs. He realized, as he neared her door, that he’d never asked for directions to her room and he paused, wondering how the hell he’d known where to find her. That familiar push from the inside shuffled in his middle and he swallowed hard before resuming his smooth gait to the open doorway just a few feet ahead. His keen hearing picked up the sound of others in the room before he raised his eyes from the white tile floor and gently knocked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Her voice … it was weak and yet—

Brent fucking Stratford and that redhead from the club moved aside as that gorgeous creature raised her face to him and lowered her hands. Christ, she was beautiful. Athan wasn’t wholly sure whether it was because of her fragile human state, the fact that she was alive when she shouldn’t have been … or if it was because of the way the whispers in his mi nd started raging with that strange heart of his, as their eyes finally met for the first time. Her mouth parted at the sight of him, and he tried not to look at the horrendous bandage with small spots of her blood peeking through it. Tried not to breathe when he scented it.

“I’m sorry … Miss St. James?” he attempted, nearly choking on his words. Her redheaded friend looked him up and down, not the least bit shy in hiding her stamp of approval. She didn’t seem to recognize him, but the look on Sarah’s face told him that she did. He shook off the thought about how much this girl would remember about Friday night and stepped forward, raising the badge that hung around his neck. “I’m Detective Athan Kane with the Boston Police Department? I’m working your case. I was hoping you’d be able to answer a few questions.”

“Actually, she was just telling us that she wanted to rest, maybe we co—”

“No,” Sarah cut Brent off and reached over to sit her cup on the cart next to her bed. Her trickle-dick boyfriend shot her a confused and pointed look that she ignored, and then turned his attention back to Athan. The redhead chuckled through her nose. “You can come in,” she glanced between her friends. “I’d like to talk to him alone.”

“I would too.” The girl winked, grinning as she leaned in and kissed Sarah’s cheek. Brent scoffed at her remark. “Call me later. Please.” Athan smirked when he watched her flash a middle finger to the boyfriend as she slid past him and out the door.

“I’ll come back and stay the night if you want.” Brent offered, leaning over her.

“Go home, Brent,” was all she said. She didn’t even look at the guy. There was something definitely going on there. Athan made a mental note of it. The lawyer gathered his coat and strode out the door with his tail tucked where a set of nuts should have been.

“I understand if it’s not a good time. I can come back another day. Please don’t feel obligated to do this if you’re not feeling well.” Athan straightened.

“Can you close the door, please?” Her tone was lighter, and her demeanor eased. Athan did as she asked and slowly turned back toward her, keeping his distance and fighting off the sudden urge to help her as she fumbled around to sit straighter and cover the exposed tattooed skin with her loose-fitting hospital gown. He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, wishing like hell he could fire up one of the cigarettes he found there. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you.”

Athan shifted, flicking his black hair over his brow. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re the guy from the bar.”

His jaw tightened.

“You’re observant.”

Sarah half-smiled. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” She looked him over, those bright eyes flickering. “And you’re a cop?”

“Mmhmm.” Athan crossed an ankle over his foot .

“What were you doing at a club like that? You don’t seem the type.”

He huffed a laugh. “I could ask the same about you.” When she didn’t balk, he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and slipped one between his teeth. Her face grew taut, and she eyed his mouth. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it slightly turned him on. “Feel up to taking a walk? I could sneak you one.”

“Fuck, yes,” she breathed, almost as a sigh of relief. It was the least he could do after robbing her of the last one she’d attempted to smoke. Sarah pulled the blankets aside, revealing her bare legs—tattooed nearly everywhere—and the stupid blue hospital socks with the grip on the bottom. “There’s a pair of boots in this closet. Would you mind?” She pointed at the corner on the other side of the bed by the window where an expensive-looking bouquet sat. Athan strode over, opening the narrow door and finding a pair of scuffed combat boots sitting under a plastic bag of bloody clothes. He held his breath and grabbed the boots, shutting the closet a bit harder than he meant to and brought them around the bed to where she’d scooted to the edge. She pulled off the socks and slipped her bare feet into them.

“Here,” he said quietly, handing her a thick white robe he’d pulled off the back of a chair against the wall.

“I’ve got a jacket somewhere.”

“Trust me. Use this. Unless you’re trying to show me more than you mean to.” She looked at him as if he were the biggest asshole she’d ever met. He supposed that was close enough to the truth. Most people looked at him that way anyhow. She took the robe and shrugged it on, making to stand and not bothering to tie the boots as she made quick work of the belt. In the long years that Athan had lived, he hadn’t been so intrigued by someone. He glanced at her bandage while she wasn’t looking and the cold stab of what he’d done to her pierced him deep. “That needs to be changed.”

She turned her head as well as she could manage and realized what he was talking about. Her eyes flickered back to his. “It bleeds every time I move. If they changed it every time it got like this, I wouldn’t have any skin left.” As if he couldn’t feel any worse. Athan slid the cigarette behind his ear against the close shaved quarter of his head.

“You okay?” he asked as she took a few light steps.

“I’m fine. Look … you seem like the kind of person that doesn’t hover like they do. Do me a favor, and don’t look at me like one of your victims, okay?”

His victims … fuck. If she only knew.

“Fair enough. Shall we?” He gestured toward the door.

When they walked out into the hall a nurse greeted them, of course asking where she was headed and if she needed anything. Sarah had assured her that she’d be back and just needed some air. The nurse had known what kind of air she meant and directed them to a spot they could venture out to without getting busted for smoking on the premises. A small, covered walkway with a single metal bench between two trash cans. At least they were letting her have one. They sat and Athan lit the cigarette from behind his ear, passing it to her and staring forward while she dragged. It took everything in him not to look over at her.

“I don’t remember much,” she said, blowing out a decent cloud of smoke. “I probably will be of very little help to you, my dude.” Athan snickered and lowered his head.

“Why don’t we just start with what you can remember?”

Sarah took another drag and passed the cigarette back to him. The smell of city rain blew past them. “There isn’t much to tell after I saw you storm out of the bar. I stayed for a couple of hours with Wren and then I left without her.” Athan blew smoke and passed the cigarette back.

“Wren is the redhead?”

“Yep.” She drew on the butt again, smoke billowing through her nose while she continued. “She got ahold of some guy. Wanted to stay, so I left. I know it was some time after midnight. I was gonna take the bus home, but I couldn’t find the bus stop.” She puffed again and passed it and Athan accepted. “I ended up in the alley with no signal. I lit up and heard a bang behind me. Saw nothing. And then it happened.” Sarah stared off across the hospital campus.

“What happened, exactly? Do you know if someone was following you?” Every word felt like he was violating her all over again. He handed the stub back to her.

“No. I didn’t see anybody. All I remember was lightning flashing and … something dark and really fucking strong pinning me against the wall. I felt a horrible pain in my neck, here.” She waved a tattooed finger over her bandage. “And then … well honestly, I thought I died.” Athan kept his reserve, his mind flashing back to her lifeless body and her non-existent pulse.

“You said some thing . Not someone?”

She flicked the butt across the walkway. “Sure didn’t feel like a someone.”

So, she didn’t remember anything. Didn’t see him or realize he had stolen from her. He also hadn’t asked about that part. “Was anything missing? Mugging gone wrong, maybe?” Sarah scoffed, wincing at the movement and thumbing the bandage. He tried not to stare.

“Well … if it was, then they got what they were after. The only thing missing was my necklace. I never take it off. Maybe that's why I’m so pissed.”

“Family heirloom?”

She turned her face toward him, and he met her eyes. “More like literal family.” Athan lowered his brows. “It’s my mother’s ashes. I had them made into a stone pendant and brought her with me from Seattle. It’s where I’m from.” A chill went down his spine. Another thing he hadn’t felt in eons.

“Why would someone want that?”

She stared into him for a moment and then turned away again, her eyes trailing off once more. “We’d need a carton of smokes for that conversation, detective. ”

Interesting.

Sarah swayed toward him, her eyes fluttering. He took her shoulders and held her steady. “What’s happening?” he asked awkwardly.

“Sorry, I’m just … just lightheaded.”

Athan raised and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you back. You gave me more than enough for one night.” Sarah’s dark hair blew slightly into her pale face. It threatened to take the breath clean out of him.

“You never told me what you were doing at the club.” She smirked, leaning on him as they made their way back into the hospital.

Athan was silent for a few steps as they slipped through the heavy door. “I had business with the owner that night. It didn’t go very well.” He clenched his teeth at the thought of Dahlia’s face.

“Yeah, you looked pretty pissed.”

“How could you tell? I usually take pride in how well I hide behind a hood.” He realized how weak she was becoming after that cigarette the further they walked down the hallway.

“Your angry man-strut along the back wall said as much.” Sarah chuckled, flinching again and grabbing at her neck. His jaw feathered. She stumbled forward and he caught her before she fell flat on her face, his inhuman strength a small blessing as he scooped her up and carried her.

“Shit … Miss St. James?” He turned her face up and brushed her hair away. Her eyes barely focused and she smiled deliriously.

“Don’t fuckin’ say that. You sound stupid,” she whispered, fading out of consciousness. He brought her up to the nurse’s station and was promptly followed into Sarah’s room. They laid her back in bed, stripping her out of the robe and sliding her boots off.

After thoroughly checking her, the nurse that had let them outside, whom he now knew was named Lynn, assured Athan that she was fine. Sarah was dehydrated, under medicated, and still very weak from blood loss. She needed rest and fluids. Athan couldn’t bring himself to leave before making sure that her bandage was changed and that she was well on her way to a deep sleep. He felt the deepest regret for his assault when they had peeled off the bloody gauze and he saw the gaping wound that they’d stitched up. The one that he’d given her. He still didn’t understand for the immortal life of him, how this girl had survived. As he watched her chest rise and fall, he wondered why he cared so much.

Athan leaned down, brushing the back of his fingers along hers as they lay against the white sheet.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah …”

Her mouth twitched below the cannula that they’d replaced in her nose. He ran a hand through his hair and zipped his jacket up as he walked quietly out of the door. As the whispers fired up again in his head, Athan looked back.

It was in that moment that he realized that was the last thing he should have done.