Deathtrap (Crossbreed Series Book 3)(19)

“What made you chase him?” he asked, opening the flue.

“The mark on his neck. Gem said a waitress remembered a guy with a neck tattoo talking to Jennifer shortly before they fired her. Most criminals have stomping grounds. They’re creatures of habit and stick to places where they feel in control. They know who works there, what the regulars are like, and where all the exits are located. Anyhow, I noticed him talking to a woman, and it didn’t seem like casual flirting.”

“Was she pregnant?”

My brows knitted together. “I don’t think so.”

The log succumbed to the flames and glowed in the hearth. Flecks of orange and gold twinkled against the darkness. I hadn’t done much to my room in terms of decorating aside from a picture, a rug, and new bedding. On my left was the door, and in the corner to the right of it the standing mirror. All my clothes fit perfectly in the armoire to the left of the door. Honestly, I didn’t have enough personal belongings to warrant buying a shelf or even a bigger desk. The scarlet-red bedspread kept me warm at night, especially with a fur blanket and a fire going. My chamber was a palace compared to living on the streets. And as of late, it was finally beginning to feel like home.

Christian set the candle on the bedside table, moving the faux roses out of the way before they went up in flames. He sat down next to me, his back straight against the headboard.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” I said. “You looked like Batman jumping off that bridge.”

“All in a day’s work. Now I’m beginning to understand why all your trousers have holes. I thought you bought ’em that way.”

I glanced down and noticed the blood and grit on my jeans from the accident. Then I poked my finger through the hole in his sweater, which I was still wearing. “Do I want to know how you got this?”

He peered over. “Probably not.”

We both chuckled.

Firelight danced on the ceiling and walls, spreading across the bed like a river of orange light. I sat up to remove the sweater.

Christian helped me. “What’s your da like?”

The sweater came over my head and messed my hair up. I swept it away from my face and sat back. “I can best describe my father in one story. I wasn’t one of the popular girls in high school, so I didn’t go out a lot. When I was fifteen, the high school quarterback asked me to a dance.” I nestled against the pillows and kept my eyes on the fireplace. “I was so damn excited that someone had finally noticed me. My father took me to a dress shop and spent a good amount of money on this blue dress. Chiffon. That was a big deal because we bought most of my clothes at the thrift store. But I kept telling him it was a formal dance and the most important thing in the world.”

“Ah, to be fifteen again.”

“I was too embarrassed for Kyle to pick me up at the trailer, so I told him I’d wait by the main road. Crush—my daddy—wasn’t happy about it one bit. So I waited and waited, watching one car after the next drive by as the sun went down. Then Kyle’s yellow Mustang appeared at the end of the road. When it slowed to a stop, a girl in the passenger seat stared daggers at me. A couple of his buddies were crammed in the back, and that’s when I realized the whole thing was a joke.”

Christian scooted down the bed and began taking off my shoes. “Is that all?”

“They were laughing at me. He asked if I had really thought someone like him would take a loser like me to the dance. Then they called me trailer trash, and one of the girls made a remark about my dress being secondhand.”

“Shitebags.”

The second shoe dropped to the floor, and then he removed my socks.

“Yep. They turned around and yelled a few more nasty remarks before speeding off. So I went home crying like a little kid. Crush asked what happened, but I think he knew. I lived in the worst area of the city, but lucky me, we were just within the limits to go to that school. Most of the kids there were rich.”

Christian finally covered my legs with a fur blanket and sat back. “That’s a sad tale, Raven Black.”

I snickered. “That’s not even the beginning. Crush was pissed, and you didn’t get on his bad side without paying the price. I just wanted to go to my room and shut myself away, but he grabbed my makeup bag, called a few of his friends, and put me on his motorcycle.”

“For what?”

“Well, the first thing he did was call a good buddy of his with an eighteen-year-old son. Switch was a good-looking kid with long hair and a tattoo on his arm. Girls wanted to date him, and guys wanted to be him. I’d met him a few times at parties and picnics, but most of my father’s friends were like family, so I always thought of him as a cousin. He met us up at the school and walked in as my date. In retrospect, Crush did the right thing. He taught me to stand up for myself and give the world the middle finger. But at the time, I was still mortified and afraid to look those kids in the eye. They were popular, and I was just the girl from the wrong side of the tracks.” My eyes closed. “I thought the date was real. It’s not like I didn’t have friends, and Kyle was in my English class and sometimes smiled at me.”

“Kids are petty little bastards. If they don’t find one thing, they’ll find something else to single out others.”

“Well, every head turned when I walked in with Switch. I’d only ever seen him in jeans and muscle shirts, so when he showed up in a suit, my jaw hit the floor. Crush insisted that I point Kyle out to him, and I did on the condition that they left the building. Switch spoiled me. They must have paid him good money to be nice, because he was getting me punch and even dancing.”

“Your da’s a good man.”

I shifted my gaze and looked up. “But wait, there’s more. While I was inside, having the time of my life, Crush was up to no good. I spent two hours getting pictures and feeling like a princess, but when the dance was over, we walked outside and saw a row of bikers with their arms folded. That’s when I knew the night wasn’t over.”

Christian sputtered with laughter. “Did they beat up the little numpty? Jaysus.”

“No, as much as I’m sure he would have liked to, they were grown men and knew better than that. They showed up to support me and make sure that nothing happened after the dance. They might have also covered Kyle’s car with dog shit.”

Both of us erupted with laughter. It was the first time I’d ever seen Christian lose himself, and at one point, he went completely silent with his mouth open and eyes shut, tears streaming down his face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine where they got that much dog shit,” I continued, trying to catch my breath. “But he had trouble finding his precious yellow car in the parking lot. His friends bailed on him, and his car smelled like manure for the rest of the semester.” I laughed so hard that pain lanced down my shoulder. “God, I needed that laugh.”

Christian wiped his eyes as we settled down. “Now I see where you get your attitude from.”

I turned my attention to the fire. “My father wanted to show him what it felt like to be humiliated. I don’t know if it made a difference in the person he became, but it sure did with me. Crush taught me to be a strong woman and to never let anyone get the best of me. He didn’t want me to be ashamed of where I came from, and I struggled with that for years. That’s why I don’t make apologies for who I am now. It’s too bad I didn’t figure all that out until I got killed.”

Christian tilted his head to the side. “Some people still haven’t figured that out. Hate me all you want, but I make no apologies for who I am.”

“I never said I hated you.”

He laced his fingers across his chest. “What happened after that?”

“We drove home with an escort of about fifty bikers. I guess Crush was afraid I’d go back to my room and sulk, so we had a cookout. Barbecue, music, a few games of dominos on the picnic table. All the guys and their old ladies told me how pretty I looked.”

“And Switch?”

I gave him a one-sided grin without reply.

Christian rolled over and caged me with his arms. “You can’t leave me hanging. Did old Switch steal your virginity and make it a night to remember?”

I shoved at his bare shoulders. “You’re a pig.”

He waggled his brows. But when the playful look waned and his gaze traveled down to my lips, my body roared with tingles I hadn’t felt in a long time. My heart quickened, and he must have heard it, because he settled his body on top of mine.

Something electric was transpiring between us—an unstoppable force like a runaway train. I reached up and cradled his neck, my fingers tunneling beneath his dark hair. When my nails scored his nape, his eyes smoldered.

What am I doing? I need to stop before it goes too far.

“You have a cut on your head,” he pointed out. “And your cheek is scraped.”

The weight of him was sublime and familiar, as if we were right back in that motel room in Washington. I’d tried to forget about the blood sharing, but sometimes I thought about the taste of him—the sweet, decadent, enigmatic flavor of Christian Poe.

Did all Vampires taste as sinfully divine?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.