bastard enough to want just that.
The silence in the room was thick. Heavy. Jane would see that he was right. She’d understand the choice he’d made and—
“I am afraid.”
There, yes, she understood—
“But that’s okay.” Her chin notched higher. “I can live with the fear. I can live with the anger. I can live with all the emotions that sometimes feel like they are ripping me apart—and you know why?”
“Jane—”
“Because they are mine. My emotions. And my memories. Yes, I see that fucking bastard killing my family. I feel the rage beat at me. The helplessness. I hate those memories.”
She understood. She did. She—
“But before she died, my mother said she loved me.”
Aidan blinked at her.
“My father…stepfather…no, dammit, he will always just be my dad to me…He looked at me. Even when that bastard was torturing him, even when the vamp was killing him, my dad looked at me. He smiled and told me that I would be all right.” A tear leaked down her cheek.
“I can’t stand it when you cry.” It tore him apart. That’s why I want to take all of Jane’s pain away. Her pain guts me. “It’s better to be without the pain, better to—”
“It’s better to have the memories. The fear and the pain—everything. It is better to have them. Better for me to remember that even at the end, even with all the terrible shit that was happening to them, my parents still loved me. They died loving me. I have that, Aidan. That memory, and it gets me through the days when I question everything around me. I wouldn’t trade that love, not for anything. I wouldn’t wish the memory away, I would never want to forget.” Her eyes gleamed as she stared up at him. “Just because you have a power, it doesn’t mean you should use it.”
His chest burned. “Jane, that woman didn’t want to remember the attack.”
“You didn’t want to expose your pack. Pack is first.” Jane nodded. “That is something I seem to have trouble remembering.” She pushed away from the bar. “Get Paris to send a copy of your video footage to me at the station. I have a case to work.”
He caught her arm. “Jane, don’t leave.”
She looked down at his hand.
“The world can’t know about supernaturals. There would be chaos. War. You see how humans fight each other now—because of different beliefs, different races, different religions. What do you think would happen if they knew there were real monsters roaming the streets? It would be fucking Armageddon.”
“I think all humans aren’t evil. I think some people truly do have good inside of them.” Her smile was sad. “Just as I think some monsters do, too.” She pulled away and walked slowly for the door. But her steps stopped and she said, “He didn’t kill her.”
Aidan was staring down at his clenched hands. But at her words, he glanced up.
She wasn’t looking at him. “The vampire could have killed Mary, but he didn’t.”
“He attacked her, Jane.”
“But he left her alive.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I think it does.” She pushed open the door. “Maybe it means he isn’t as completely evil as you think.” She left him.
Jane…no, he fucking is.
But Jane was gone, and he knew she didn’t want him going after her. Not then.
Hell.
Chapter Eight
Travis Maller loved a good party. He’d finished his big chemical engineering test, scored a B on that fucker, and he was more than ready to let off steam.
He pushed through the crowd at the bar. There were always crowds in New Orleans. That was why he loved the place so much. He’d grown up in freaking Wharo, Mississippi, a speck on the map with all of eight hundred people in the city limits. He’d hated the small town. Hated everyone always knowing everyone else’s business.
In New Orleans, no one cared what you did. You could get lost in the crowd. You could party your ass off all night on Bourbon Street.
No one cared.
Thatch had loved this city just as much as I did.
When he thought of Thatch, pain knifed through Travis. He and Thatch had been at this same club just the night before. And now his wingman was dead. Shit, shit, shit.
Travis motioned to the bartender. “Give me the hardest shit you’ve got.”
The bartender, a big guy with piercings in his ears, lifted his brows. “Celebrating?” He started to mix the drink.
“Celebrating and mourning. Both are going to take me to oblivion.” And that was just where he needed to be. He