Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)(26)

A little shaft of something poked her in the heart as she paused, looking at the dark head bent over his studies, one hand holding a pencil, the drink off to the side. She smothered a startled noise, for in that moment, her father looked just like the man in Sabrina Ellison’s photograph. The tableau—the mood, the pose, the resemblance—was astonishing in its familiarity. It was as if she’d been brought into the photograph in real life. Even the shadows seemed the same.

Obviously sensitive to everything in his environment, Max lifted his head and found Macey watching him. From across the room, she saw a flash of something in his eyes—pain? hope? apprehension?—and forced her lips into a small, polite smile.

“Good night, Max. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Macey…”

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” she said again, then fled, closing the door behind. Her heart was pounding, her palms were damp, her eyes felt gritty—and she didn’t really understand why.

He was just a man, just the man who’d caused her to be born. And had caused her to have this vocation of hers—the one that would keep her forever alone and solitary, and always the target of evil.

Now he was a colleague, a peer—a partner. Albeit an interfering one. Nothing more.

She stubbornly shoved away the flicker of a long-lost memory of sliced apples and star-shaped seeds and laughter and—No, she didn’t need that taking up space in her mind right now.

Macey turned blindly, blinking rapidly, rushing away from it all, and slammed into Chas.

“Whoa there, lulu,” he said, catching her with gentle, firm hands.

She managed to look up at him without showing her confusion and pain—at least, she hoped the emotions were hidden—and completely switched the set of her mind. “I was hoping you wouldn’t go home tonight,” she said, easing closer as she took hold of him.

Strong as steel, smooth and muscular, his arms acted as anchors in the midst of her turmoil. His warmth and the power of his presence steadied her. But she wanted more. She needed it.

“I’m glad you decided to stay here tonight,” she said, looking up at him. Her heart was suddenly pounding, and she felt a little queasy with all sorts of nerves and emotions.

Chas’s eyes shuttered and he eased back a bit. “It didn’t make sense to go home.”

She moved in a little closer, her attention wandering over the healing wounds on his neck, the strong beat of pulse thudding there, the darkness of his skin beneath the torn white shirt…then over his stubbled jaw and to his mouth. The beauty of his form and features took her breath away.

“Macey,” he said quietly. She felt a little tremor run through his muscles, a tiny shiver beneath his skin. “I don’t think… Whatever you’re thinking, lulu, it’s not a good idea.” He sounded a little breathless, a little dusky and rough, and as if the words had been wrung from him.

“Why not?” she asked, shoving away a pang of uncertainty. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it the other night in the alley. You practically tore my—”

He swooped down and covered her mouth with his, smothering the rest of her sentence, dragging her up against his steely body. He was warm and hard, smelled spicy and masculine, and tasted salty and hot. He kissed her forcefully, wildly, with deep penetration and long, sweeping strokes…with desperation and desire and something much darker.

It was Macey who pulled away, to catch her breath—or so she told herself—but then it was ruined when she realized tears had filled her eyes. Dammit.

She ignored whatever emotion was trying to destroy the moment, and slid her arms up around his neck, pulling his face to hers once again, fitting her mouth to his in her own desperate bid for escape.

This time, Chas pulled away after only a short while, and when he did, he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her at a distance.

“You’re trying too hard, lulu,” he said. His voice was matter of fact, but there was heat in his eyes, and she could tell he wasn’t at all adverse to her attentions. But he was holding her back—literally holding her back.

“What do you mean by that?” She was outraged, and now there were tears welling in her eyes again, damn him. “It’s always been like that with us—rough, and wild, and—”

He put a finger to her lips, glancing at the door to the pub.

“What, you’re worried about him?” That infuriated her even more—now Max Denton was interfering in her private life. “I can solve that problem.” She grabbed Chas’s hand and pulled, ready to tow him off down the hall to the privacy of her own room.

“Macey, stop,” he said, and pulled his fingers easily from her grip.

Blind with tears, furious and confused and frustrated, she dashed a hand over her eyes and stalked away before she could embarrass herself further. She’d taken two steps before Chas caught her by the arm, pulling her back relatively gently—for him.

“Leave me alone.” She tried to punch him—oh, that would feel great, to land a few solid ones right on his torso—but he was too strong, even for her, and he pulled her tight against him, his arms capturing her in an unyielding band.

“There’s not too many other things I’d rather do than pull off your clothes and make it all the way with you, lulu,” he murmured into the top of her head. “Believe me. Especially after…today. But I’m feeling a bit wrung out myself, you know”—she felt the tremor rush through him—“and being a substitute or an excuse doesn’t sit well with me at the moment. You don’t want me so much as you want something to make you forget everything that’s going on—and I can’t argue with that. I’ve done it myself…too often. Far too often. Even…”

“Even with me?” she whispered into his shirt, now damp with her tears.

“Ah, Macey,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “My life is so bloody damn fucked up, you can’t even take offense to me saying it, because nothing I do means anything. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong back—home. I don’t belong anywhere.” He drew in a deep breath. “You don’t love me, I can’t love you, we’ve been using each other for weeks…and though it’s been damned good—”

“Well, there is that.” She laugh-sobbed against him.

He gave a pained chuckle of his own. “Right. Look, I don’t know what happened when you went out today—you came back looking worse than when you left, and that’s not saying much—but one thing I know is, going to bed with me won’t help you feel any better. Inside,” he added with another bark of laughter when she tensed up to argue. “Mentally.”

This time, when she drew back, he allowed her to. “It’s been a terrible day,” she admitted, still enjoying the comfort of solid arms around her.

“Even worse than when I dragged you out of Iscariot’s limousine? That was a pretty bad day.”

“Almost as bad.” Her lips quivered, but inside she still felt as if she was a piece of clothing being run through the wringer.

“Max showing up here was a surprise.”

“That’s an understatement.” She sniffled, and to her surprise, Chas produced a handkerchief from somewhere on his rumpled person. “How does he have the nerve to show up after thirteen years and pretend like nothing happened?”

“I wouldn’t say he pretended like nothing happened—” Chas stopped when she turned her most furious glower onto him. “Right. The bastard.”

“And then I—” No, she didn’t want to talk about Grady. Didn’t want to admit even to Chas—whose deepest, darkest secrets she knew—how pathetic she’d been, lurking around Grady’s house, and even knocking on the door.

“You went to that Irish bloke, didn’t you?” His mouth was flat with anger. “The one you castrated.”

“Castrated? What the hell—I didn’t—”

“Oh, you bloody well did. Not saying I completely blame you, but you did—you took every bit of manhood, of humanity, away from him when you made your decision about his future. For him. And what—now you’re regretting it?”

“I thought you were on my side,” she cried, curling her fingers into a fist. Just one punch, just one! “You were the one who told me I couldn’t be with anyone.”

“I didn’t tell you to castrate the man, Macey. Never. It’s a damned good thing he can’t remember you, because if he ever found out what you did—well, making those kinds of godlike decisions for a man is inexcusable. And cowardly. He’d hate you for it.”

“It’s just what my father did to me,” she said.

“He didn’t manipulate your memory, Macey. It’s a whole different situation.” Chas reached out with a gentle hand, wiping away a stream of tears—but he was fighting a losing battle, for they were coming too fast now. “What happened when you went to Grady’s, lulu? Did you see him?”

She nodded, closing her eyes, folding her arms over her middle to close herself off. She was so damned furious and incensed and confused and sad.