“Vincent?”
“Yeah?” He pulled back enough to see her face.
“I”—her voice trailed off, and she tucked her head up under his chin—“needed you.”
“I know,” he murmured softly. He stroked along the length of her hair and shifted so the whole of her body was touching the whole of his. Felix was making a lot of mistakes lately. There wasn’t any force in Heaven or in Hell that was going to take her away from him again. Her life was his responsibility, and he was going to make sure she never only existed again.
* * * *
Bryna woke snuggled into the hard body of a man with the tips of his fingers skimming along her spine. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this rested, and she was afraid to open her eyes, but she cracked one open anyway to make sure she hadn’t been dreaming.
There he was—Vincent, larger than life, only he was dead. Or was supposed to be dead. His body was warm, and she could hear the beat of his heart inside his chest. Damn. She was so confused; how could a man ten years dead feel so alive?
“You’re awake,” he murmured in a gruff, sleepy tone.
“I wish we could just stay like this,” she whispered. “Maybe then the vampires wouldn’t find us and you won’t have to go.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her skin to skin for a long time before he sat up, taking her with him. His sienna eyes moved over her before he hooked her in close and rested the side of his face on the top of her head. “Those vamps are tracking you, otherwise…” He let out a breath and kissed her forehead before setting her on the mattress and getting off the bed. “I would stay if I could, Bryna. You have to know that.”
And she did. It was a small solace, but it helped a fraction of a percent. She’d still have his grave to go to when life got rough. That was something? Wasn’t it? Not wanting to think about his eventual departure, she slipped off the bed and collected up her clothes. “Let’s just focus on keeping me alive, and then we can figure out what happens after we save the world.”
He had his pants pulled up to his waist, but stopped before zipping them up. He walked over to her and cupped his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t pretend this is going to be easy. I’ll help you as much as I can, but nothing about this is easy.”
She buried her face against his chiseled chest for a moment before pulling back and offering up a wobbly smile. “It is easier, knowing I hadn’t killed you. It’s the rest of my life I have to come to terms with first.”
He cocked his head and studied her for a long moment before he let out a sigh. “Go on, get dressed. I’ll order you some food.”
Bryna shuffled into the bathroom. How was she going to manage to pull herself out of this tailspin she had no idea, but as much as she didn’t think it would work, she was going to try, for Vincent’s sake. She took her time pulling herself together before she went back out into the room. Vincent was sitting on the bed, and she sat next to him.
He winked at her before he shifted her behind him on the bed. “Stay here. We have visitors. I hope you still like General Tso’s Chicken.”
“Only with chicken fried rice,” she said hopefully. The General Tso’s hadn’t been her favorite; it had been his. She still liked it, as long as she got a pork eggroll, chicken fried rice, and the fortune cookie to go with it.
He cringed and gave her an apologetic look as he opened the door. “Sorry, sunshine.”
The man who walked into the room snorted. His eyes found her, and the creepiest bolt of déjà vu hit her. Her skin crawled, and pain sliced through her wrist. She tucked it back behind her in defense and glared at the intruding man as if it would send him away. “Who is he?”
The man handed Vincent the bag of food. He was shaking his head as if he’d been struck with the same thing.
Vincent carried the food over to the bed and sat on it. “This is Derrick. You’ve met him before. I will explain once everyone is here.”
She eyed the dangerous-looking man and scooted away from him. Hunger growled in her belly, and she grudgingly went to the bag. She opened it up to find her perfect order of Chinese food. A huge bucket of chicken fried rice, two pork eggrolls, and four fortune cookies. She beamed up at Vincent. “You remembered!”
“Amazing, but yeah,” he said with a grin. “After two hundred years, the details do get a little fuzzy.”
She did her best imitation of his man growl and set to work getting her food out. She was starving. The last thing she ate was half a pickle and a slice of American cheese sixteen hours ago. “Ten years. I can agree it’s felt like two hundred.”
“Dollface is in rare form tonight, I see,” another large male said.
She glared at him as déjà vu hit again, only this time she screamed, almost lost her perfect dinner, and shot to the corner of the room. “Who the hell are you?”
“Gregori,” he announced as if she would know. Before she could recover from that one, the last man walked in and Vincent closed the door. “And our middle brother, Caleb,” Gregori said. Another round of déjà vu hit. Her skin crawled again.
“You know, Vincent,” she said in a tone close to a whimper. “Your friends seem really nice, but they’re freaking me out.”
Vincent moved his massive warrior’s body between her and the other men who were sprawling out in the room. He sat down on the bed next to her. “I know. I want you to eat before I shock you anymore.”
She started to protest. What could possibly be more shocking than finding her dead boyfriend walking around and visiting his own grave? She would have said it, but he spooned fried rice into her mouth when she opened it.
Heaven.
Vincent never did like how much she ate. He spent a considerable amount of time feeding her when he’d been alive. She grinned at him and the other men were almost forgotten—almost. The one with a ponytail propped up against the door—Gregori, she thought his name was—was still making her shiver when she looked at him, so she simply focused on the scar on Vincent’s face. The more she saw it the less horrible it became. Vincent didn’t stop feeding her until half of the rice was gone, she’d eaten one of the eggrolls and two fortune cookies, both of which told her important decisions were coming—well, duh. She scooted back on the bed and accepted a jumbo coffee with whipped cream.
Only then did she eye up the freaky men again. “Okay, why do I feel like I’ve met all of you before and bad things happened?”
They all looked at Vincent. He shrugged and moved back a space on the bed. “Um, because you have and they did.”
She was sure her brain was going to twist. “Okay, please, let’s remember the live girl doesn’t understand dead cryptic-speak.”
Vincent laughed quietly, and then his face sobered. “Each of them made one attempt at saving your life.” His amber eyes started to glow. “And they each failed.”
“Oh damn.” She looked at them as her bottom lip quivered. “Thanks for trying?”
“Bryna,” Vincent said, moving so he was the only person she could see. “You died saving their lives.”
Then she was angry. Her fist pounded on the mattress she was sitting on. “Then why am I still here? Doesn’t that mean I get to do whatever it is you’re doing?”
“That explains that,” Gregori said.
She glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Vincent growled at Gregori. It was a low, craggy sound. Bryna was reminded that he wasn’t exactly human anymore. “Back off, Argent. She doesn’t need your commentary.”
Gregori shrugged and leaned back against the door. “With an attitude like that, there isn’t a way in hell you’re gonna keep her alive.”
Vincent came up off the bed at a lightning speed. Bryna was already moving. She planted both of her hands on his chest and glared up at him. “He’s baiting you. We both know he’s right. As much as I want to try, for you.” She looked over her shoulder at Gregori and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t upset him. I might have saved your life in another reality, but you have no idea what I am capable of doing.”
Caleb whistled low. “Bryna, baby, it’s good to see you with some spark.”
Her eyes moved over each of them as a sinking feeling washed over her. With nicknames like dollface and baby she hated to think what she might have done with Vincent’s friends. She started to ask the question, and then shied away from them, not wanting to know the answer.
It was Derrick who answered in soft tones anyway. “It never happened. As much as some of us might have wanted it to happen.” His eyes drifted toward Gregori and then were back on her again. “We have too much respect for you and for Vincent to allow it.”
She stood there blinking at him. She couldn’t remember the last time a man said the word respect when referring to her in a sentence. It was disconcerting. She moved away from him.
Vincent growled as he hooked an arm around her and moved her back to the bed furthest away from his friends. “Thanks for the reassurance. Now I don’t have to gut anyone,” he snarled out. “And actually,” he went on in a more conversational tone, “I’m not looking for help keeping her alive. I need a plan on how to get that son of a bitch Draven.”