Better Off Undead - Cynthia Eden Page 0,51
left?” Because she couldn’t tell. Her side effects weren’t that good.
“They cleaned the streets,” Aidan said, disgust thick in his voice. “This is the only scent I’m getting…right here. If there was more blood, it was washed away when the streets were cleaned this morning.”
Dammit.
“Sorry, Jane.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” Carefully she pocketed the bullets. “We learned more. The guy is stronger than I expected. Hell, you’re the only one I’ve seen dig out silver bullets. I didn’t realize that was something most werewolves could do.”
He was silent.
“I need to go see Dr. Bob,” Jane continued, adjusting her plans as she considered things. “But I think first I’ll check in at the station with Vivian. She’s probably freaking the hell out right now, and if I stop to see her, it will give Bob a little longer to finish his report.”
Aidan’s head jerked to the right. A low growl built in his throat.
Oh, jeez. What now? “Aidan?”
“He’s coming.”
She yanked out her weapon. “The killer?”
“Worse.” The one word came out as a snarl. “The vampire.”
And then he was there. Just strolling down the street toward them. Jane blinked. Had the guy been in the road a moment before? She didn’t think so, but now he was just boldly striding toward them.
The vampire took his time approaching them, and when Aidan wanted to lunge forward, Jane wrapped her hand around his arm. “I want to see what he has to say.”
“The bastard is in my town, without an invitation. He’s asking for trouble.”
She knew that was true. Vamps and werewolves weren’t made to get along. And Aidan never let vamps stay in New Orleans long.
“Jane.” Vincent’s gaze swept over her. “You’re…still human?” He seemed surprised.
Jane had to admit—when she’d woken up in Aidan’s bed—she’d been surprised, too. Only now she fully realized that it hadn’t been Dr. Bob’s medicine or Annette’s voodoo magic that had saved her…
It had been Aidan.
“When I got here last night…and saw Aidan rushing away with you held so tightly in his arms…” Vincent lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought you were dying.”
“And you jumped in to help save me?” Anger vibrated in her voice. “How nice of you—oh, wait. You didn’t help. What did you do? Watch from the shadows and count down as you hoped my life ticked away?”
He took a step back.
Aidan’s claws had come out, she could see them. She still touched his arm and Aidan’s muscles were rock hard beneath her hand. But Aidan wasn’t attacking.
He’s holding back for me.
“You can’t change fate,” Vincent said.
“I think we make our own fate. People aren’t born with their whole lives mapped out in some little book.”
Vincent’s expression hardened. “You aren’t like most people.”
“Were you watching the whole time?” Jane asked him. “When that werewolf brought Travis Maller to the cemetery? Were you here when the poor guy was being murdered?”
“No,” Vincent rasped. “I didn’t arrive until after.”
Aidan gave another low growl. “Would you have helped if you had been there sooner? Would you have stepped in to save the human?”
Vincent seemed surprised by the question. “I didn’t know him.”
Jane’s jaw dropped. “He was a person! Didn’t matter if you knew him or not—the guy was in pain and he needed help—so you should have wanted to save him.”
“Vamps aren’t like that, Jane,” Aidan said gruffly. “They don’t care. They’ll tear apart their whole families if that gives them the blood they need.”
Sadness flashed across Vincent’s face. “I have…seen that happen.”
“Yes, so the fuck have I,” Aidan fired back. “Too many times. I know what your kind can do. I know how all they can live for is the bloodlust—it controls them. It maddens them. It—”
“My kind isn’t doing the killing this time.” Vincent had straightened his shoulders. “Yours is.”
She let Aidan go. The vamp was just asking for trouble.
But Vincent held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not here to provoke you.”
“No?” Aidan obviously doubted that statement. “Could’ve fooled the hell out of me.” He lifted his claws. “So this is how things will work. I’ve played the good guy with you long enough. The beast in me wants nothing more than to cut off your head—”
“Aren’t you the blunt one,” Vincent muttered.
“But I’ve held back, fucking barely. Mostly because you haven’t killed anyone yet. Jane doesn’t like it if I kill without reason.” He shrugged. “One of her little rules.”
Vincent’s eyelids flickered. “Of course, you can only do what Jane likes.”
Jane glanced between the two of them. Similar in size, and she had