Chapter One

Age 8

“I’m gonna marry you.”

Kelvin Saunders blushed beet-red as all his friends started to laugh. It was the kiss of death for an eight-year-old boy, having some girl come up and say something like that in front of his friends.

Part of him, that embarrassed part, jeered at him to say something to her, make fun of her, anything to get the kids around them laughing at her—instead of him.

But Kel couldn’t. He wasn’t even really sure why. But he just couldn’t.

He knew who she was—her name was Angelica something or other. She was new in town, had moved into a house not too far from where he lived. A thin strip of trees separated their neighborhoods—that, and a lot of money, according to Jill Baker, the fifteen-year-old that watched him on Friday nights when his parents had date night.

Angelica gazed at him with eyes the same pretty blue as the September sky, her hair pulled back into two neatly braided pigtails. She wore a pink T-shirt with a pair of spotless white shorts. Man, Kel couldn’t wear anything white without getting dirt all over it. The new girl, though, she looked all shiny, neat and clean. Even her tennis shoes looked brand new. She smiled at him, showing perfectly straight teeth, and her nose crinkled.

Denny Mayhue punched Kel’s arm. “You got a girlfriend, Kel?”

Defensively, Kel snapped, “No.” But then he looked back at the girl. She was embarrassing him, big time, but as much as he wanted to retaliate, he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do something that would hurt her feelings.

She gave him a secretive smile, a smile that said she knew something nobody else did, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted to tell him. “My name’s Angel…” She rolled her eyes and made a face. “Actually, it’s Angelica, after my dad’s mom. She died before I was born. I really hate being called Angelica and she did, too, or that’s what my dad says. So he calls me Angel. And Mom hates it.”

She prattled on, ignoring the boys who were still grinning at both her and Kel, and the girls who had been behind her when she announced she was going to marry him. They’d started giggling but now, as she ignored them, they wandered off. Kel’s friends lost interest, heading for the basketball court, leaving him alone with Angel/Angelica as she talked.

And man, did she talk. She talked fast, she talked about everything, and she didn’t even seem to care that he wasn’t talking back. Scuffing his feet in the dirt, Kel told himself he needed to just go find his friends and maybe play basketball for a few more minutes. Recess didn’t last forever and after this, he still had two and half hours before school let out.

But he realized he couldn’t quite pull himself away.

Even when Mrs. Gumble blew her whistle, announcing the end of recess, Kel didn’t want to walk away. It wasn’t until she grinned at him and said, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” that he could even move.

He was still puzzling the girl over in his mind as he lined up to go back into school. She lined up in Mrs. Romero’s line and gave him a sweet smile.

Denny nudged him from behind. “You got a girlfriend,” he said again.

But Kel just ignored him.

 

Age 14

“You’ve got to learn to ignore people, Kel,” Angel said, sighing and shaking her head as she touched her fingers to his swollen black eye.

He batted her hand away. “Stop it, Angel. That hurts.”

“Why did you get into a fight this time?”

Shrugging, he turned away and went to study his face in the mirror hanging over the back of the couch. They’d gone to Angel’s house—her parents both worked pretty late—and he’d hoped he could have a few minutes to think up some believable line for his mom.

So far, no luck. And there was no way she wasn’t going to notice his shiner, either. Still fuming, he glared at his reflection.

The mirror showed a tall, lanky boy with dark brown hair that curled if he didn’t keep it cut close, green eyes surrounded by long, thick lashes that he hated. Days spent in the sun had turned his skin a deep, golden tan and streaked his dark hair with lighter strands. If he wasn’t so damn pissed about the fight—and worrying about how his mother was going to freak—he might have taken a minute to admire the black eye. His face had gotten him called pretty boy more than once.

Much as he hated that, he could ignore it easy enough.

If he could have ignored it when Denny started making fun of Angel, he wouldn’t be in this mess. But…

“Kel.” Angel’s voice, soft and patient, jerked him back to attention.

Man, he hated when she talked like that, all grown up and polite and persistent. Scowling, he turned around and stared at her with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “That jerk-off Denny said you were weird. I told him to shut up. He got in my face. I hit him.”

“Kel…I am weird.”

“No, you’re not,” he snapped, his hands clenching into fists. He hated when people talked about her like that—hated when she did it herself. Angel wasn’t weird—she just wasn’t… She just wasn’t like everybody else.

She wasn’t like anybody else.

Angel grinned at him and said, “Just because you say it doesn’t make it true, Kel.” Then she shrugged. “Kel, I don’t want you getting into fights over me. You keep it up and you’ll get in trouble with your folks. Or worse.” Her lip poked out a little and she murmured, “I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

Man…

She climbed off the couch and walked over to stand in front of him, near enough that he could smell the cherry lip gloss she wore, close enough that he could just barely see the shadow of her bra strap through her T-shirt. Angel was tall for a girl, almost as tall as he was, and Kel wasn’t short. She leaned and kissed him, quick and soft. Blood rushed to his face but before she could move away, he reached out and caught her hand, tugged her close.

It was scary, the way he felt about Angel. It had been like this ever since he’d met her. I’m gonna marry you. He hadn’t ever forgotten those words. And even though she hadn’t ever said them again, Kel had a feeling she was right. It was almost creepy even thinking about.

He wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled against him with a happy sigh. “I don’t like people talking about you,” he said, his voice cracking a little.

“Ignore them, Kel. I don’t care what people say. I really don’t.”

 

Age 15

The pain hit him square in the chest, like a ton of bricks. Or worse, like his wrestling coach had decided to let the heavyweights use him for target practice. It woke him from a dead sleep, pressing down on him so hard, he couldn’t breathe, could hardly move. Rolling to his side, he shoved his arms under him and managed to force himself onto his hands and knees.

“What the…”

Another spasm hit him and when it passed, Kel didn’t have to ask what again. He knew. It was Angel. He could feel her. It was crazy, the way they were so in tune with each other, the way one seemed to know when the other was hurting or mad.

This was unreal, though, vicious enough to make him want to puke from it. “Angel…”

Almost like she heard him, some of the weight on his chest eased, just enough that he was able to get out of bed and drag on whatever clothes came to his hand. He probably should try to go out the bedroom window—if his parents heard him leaving the house again, they’d freak.

But he didn’t trust his shaking hands or legs enough to climb down without breaking his neck, so he shuffled through the house as quietly as he could. When the door closed behind him, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“I’m coming, Angel.” His friends would think he was crazy—hell, half of them thought that already anyway. Rain started to fall as he took a well-worn path through the trees. Their subdivisions backed up against the other and only about a half a mile and a bunch of evergreens, maple and oak trees separated him from Angel. Usually, the walk was a breeze, even at night. Right now, it was taking forever.

When he emerged from the trees, he wasn’t surprised to see Angel sitting on the back deck, wearing one of his T-shirts, a pair of panties and not much else. With her knees drawn up to her chest, she sat there, shaking and crying. He mounted the steps slowly and when he held out his arms, she came to him and the quiet tears turned into harsh, ugly sobs.

Holding her close, he rocked her. His chest ached in sympathy with the force of her sobs—he felt them as though it was him crying. When the storm of grief finally eased, he had tears of his own running down his cheeks. She looked up at him, her pretty face drenched with tears, her eyelids puffy and swollen.

She sniffed a little, tried to speak. It took a couple of tries because her voice kept breaking. “It’s my dad,” she whispered, snuggling up against him, burying her face against his worn-out fleece jacket. “My dad’s dead—he had a…car…wreck.”

No words were going to take that kind of pain away and Kel didn’t see the point in trying. Instead, he picked her up and settled down on the deck stairs and held her as she started to sob again.

As night slowly bled into dawn, Angel fell asleep in his arms. She shivered a little, but if he tried to get her inside, he worried she’d wake up. Instead, he managed to unzip his jacket and pull it off, covering her up as best he could.

That was how his dad found him. Jacob Saunders came through the trees and when he saw Kel sitting there, holding Angel while she slept, all Jake did was sigh and shake his head. Kel sat there as his dad climbed the steps and settled on the step below them.

“Sheriff Rogers just called me with the news. Wanted me to come and sit with Angel. Her mama…” Jake never had a mean word for anybody. Even when he was madder than hell at Kel, he managed to keep his voice level. The disappointment Kel would see in his dad’s eyes was worse than the yelling anyway. A minister at the local church, Jake was kind, considerate—too kind and considerate to say the truth out loud.

“Her mama is probably off whining and wailing and doesn’t give a da—crap that she left Angel here alone,” Kel said, quietly. He couldn’t keep the anger out of it, though. Ann Mathis-Pierson cared about exactly one person in this world—herself.

“Now Kel, her husband is dead,” Jake said quietly, glancing down at Angel’s face.

Angel slept like the dead, though, and Kel knew she wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. She was like a limp dishrag in his arms, her breathing soft, slow and deep, her body warm against his under the cover of the jacket he’d draped over her.

“Yeah, her dad is dead. So why was Angel here alone? In the middle of the night?” Kel demanded.

Angel stirred in his arms and automatically, Kel lifted a hand, brushed her hair back from her face. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you know what happened?”

“Troy tells me that Paul was heading home—outside of Nashville. Kid was driving along beside him and changed lanes, didn’t see him. Ran him off the road—Paul most likely died instantly.”

Though she was sleeping, Angel started to whimper. Bending down, Kel kissed her forehead. “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m here, Angel.” Her face eased and she sighed, settled deeper into sleep.

He was quiet for a minute, but the ugly words had to come out. He couldn’t keep them inside anymore—they were choking him. “Her mother wasn’t here when they came to tell her, was she?”

The look on his dad’s face was answer enough.

Ann hadn’t been home, probably out screwing somebody. When she wasn’t working past nine or ten, she was usually shacked up with some guy. Working as attorney would definitely call for long hours—Kel knew that. His mother was also an attorney, although she worked in the district attorney’s office, unlike Ann, a high-priced defense attorney. They’d come up against each other in court and although Kel’s mother, Meredith, hadn’t ever said anything, Kel knew she didn’t like Ann.

Ann was hard to like. Kel knew that. For Angel’s sake, he’d always been polite to her, but it was going to be hard now. Very hard.

“She doesn’t have anybody now,” Kel whispered, closing his eyes. Her dad had been a great guy. A bit of a pushover, Kel had always thought, for putting up with his wife. Still, Paul had been great. He’d adored Angel and he did his best to make up for the fact that Ann wasn’t worth shit as a parent.

“That’s not true, Kel.” His dad reached up, patted him on the shoulder.

Sliding his dad a sheepish look, Kel rolled his eyes. “I’m not exactly talking about God, Dad. Not trying to discount Him, but it’s good to have a person to talk to, one who will answer.”

With his characteristic, understanding smile, Jake replied, “Oh, God always answers, son. But I wasn’t talking about God, either. I was talking about you. And your mom and me—you know we love Angel like she was our own.” He squeezed Kel’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right, son. She’s too strong not to be.”

 

Age 18

This had to be the most embarrassing conversation of his life. Kel sat at the kitchen table, his arms folded across his chest and his chin tucked low so he didn’t have to see his father’s face. He didn’t have to see his father’s face to know that his dad was blushing.

“Dad, I told you, Angel and I aren’t having sex,” he repeated, trying to cut the conversation short.

“And I told you that I believe you,” Jake replied, snapping a little.

His voice was sharp. That was odd enough that Kel glanced up. His dad hardly ever raised his voice, it just wasn’t in him. Kel met his eyes and Jake pushed back from the table, stood up and started to pace, long jerky motions like he couldn’t quite coordinate his arms and legs. “This isn’t much fun for me, either,” Jake said, sending Kel a look that reminded him of a hound dog, all long-faced and sad-eyed. “I thought we’d moved past the stage of talking about the birds and the bees, and why you should respect yourself enough to wait until you find the right person.”

I already found her, Kel thought, but wisely, he kept his mouth shut.

Jake laughed. “You really need to work on that poker face.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about Angelica—I know you love her. I know she loves you.”

“Don’t go telling me that I’m too young to really understand love, Dad. I don’t want to hear that.”

Gently, Jake said, “Now that’s exactly what I’m not going to tell you. Kel, I met your mama when I was eighteen. She was sixteen. I knew right away that I wanted to marry her.” He came back to the table, but instead of sitting across from Kel, this time, he took the seat right next to him. “Sometimes, it does happen like that. When it does, it’s a wonderful gift. I thank God every day of my life for your mother, for you. I didn’t have to go half of my adult life trying to find the right woman—she was already there. I didn’t suffer the loneliness, I didn’t have all those unasked questions.”

He reached up, awkwardly patting Kel’s shoulder. “I think what is between you two is real. Angel, she’s a special girl, a bright one.” Jake grimaced and added, “Sometimes too bright. I swear, sometimes it’s like there’s a forty-year-old woman trapped inside that girl’s body.”

The chair creaked and Kel heard his dad’s knees pop as he stood up. From the corner of his eye, he watched his father shove his hands deep into his pockets, watched him shuffle his feet a little more. “But your mother and I just felt maybe I should have this talk with you.”

“Why?” Kel demanded.

“Because we love you. We want what’s best for you—and for her. Kids don’t always think about the future and we want to make sure the two of you have the best, the brightest future possible. Decisions made in the heat of the moment—” At that, Jake’s face flushed beet-red and it was a wonder he managed to talk at all, considering how tight his voice sounded. “Sometimes, those decisions can have consequences.”

Kel shifted uncomfortably on the chair, focused on the clear plastic box in front of him. It was a corsage, an orchid with a pale blue bow. Angel had told him she was wearing light blue, and he’d told his mom that, so she told him he needed to make sure the corsage would go with her dress. He’d rolled his eyes and muttered, “Girls…” But he’d made sure he told the florist that his prom date was wearing light blue. Focusing on the silly flower made it a bit easier to speak, a lot easier than looking at his dad while he spoke. So he stared at the flower like it held the answers to the universe. “Dad, Angel and I aren’t really in any rush to…to… Well, you know.” Liar, a voice in his head jeered. Kel was in a big damn hurry to you-know with Angel, but talks like this one were burned on his brain and Angel wasn’t ready. He knew it, without even having to ask her.

So he didn’t push.

Desperate to get this conversation over and done with, he rushed the rest of the words out. “Angel isn’t ready. I don’t want to rush her.” He deliberately left off commenting about whether he was ready. Kel didn’t lie to his dad and he wasn’t interested in making this take any longer than it had to.

Kel was going to marry Angel.

He hadn’t asked—they never talked about it. But they both knew it. He was even saving some of his money for a ring. It was a few years off, and Kel seriously hoped she wasn’t planning on making him wait until then before they did it, but he could wait until she was ready. Angel deserved that much.

Risking a quick glance up, he saw the relieved smile on his dad’s face and shrugged restlessly. “Stop worrying about me so much, Dad. I love her. I’m not going to do anything that will mess that up.”

 

Age 19, May

“Your parents are going to wonder where you are,” Angel said softly. She had her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms linked around them. She rested her chin on her knees and focused on the flickering firelight.

Kel shrugged. “I doubt they’ll wonder too much.” Yeah, they would. He knew that. He might be nearly nineteen years old and finishing up his freshman year in college, but in the eyes of his parents, he was still a kid. They might wonder, they would probably worry, but Kel wasn’t in any hurry to leave just to suit his folks.

Especially not right now.

Something was bothering Angel but she wouldn’t tell him what it was. He could feel it, an ugly, nasty weight on his chest and until she opened up and talked to him, he wasn’t leaving. They’d driven to Tennessee to do some hiking and before they’d left, Kel had told his parents he’d probably be back pretty late.

Angel hadn’t said much of anything to her mom, but it wouldn’t matter. On that front, nothing much had changed in all the years Kel had known Angel and her mother—Ann still didn’t concern herself with her daughter. As far as Ann was concerned, Angel was kept clothed, fed and sheltered. That was the extent of her parenting worries.

Unless Angel was gone long enough that it interfered with Ann’s life, the woman would never notice. When she came looking for Angel to run some errands, to make some phone calls, then maybe Ann might notice Angel wasn’t there.

That was it.

Ever since her dad had died, things at Angel’s house had gotten worse and he knew she was literally counting down the days until she graduated from high school. She’d turn eighteen in July and on her eighteenth birthday, she was getting one whopping sum of money. Paul Pierson had a very large life insurance policy and Angel would receive the largest part of it. A certain amount of money had been set aside to pay off any final expenses and pay off the house so Ann wouldn’t need to worry about that.

But the rest of the money was set aside for Angel. It came with some restrictions, things like she’d get so much on her birthday, so much for college, and the rest of it upon her college graduation.

And it was a lot of money. Enough money that she could pretty much pick her college and it was all but paid for. Enough that she wouldn’t have to work a part-time job, that she didn’t have to worry her mother wouldn’t help her out. Paul might have been a pushover, but he’d known his wife and he hadn’t wanted Angel to suffer should something happen to him.

Propped on his elbow, Kel stared into the fire and wondered if Angel was going to spill or if he was going to have to drag it out of her. The fire crackled and popped and a shower of sparks went flying into the air as one of the flaming logs split into two parts.

“Mom’s getting married.”

He glanced up at Angel and then looked back into the fire. “That’s what you’ve been worrying about?”

She made a face at him. “I’m not worried—exactly.” Shifting around, she moved her shoulders in a restless shrug. “Dad’s been gone four years now. And it’s not like she ever really loved him. Hell, the day we buried him, she acted like it didn’t matter he was gone. She went and redid the whole damn house less than a month after he died. Now she’s getting married and I’m expected…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “Forget it.”

“Expected to what?” Kel asked, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t like that look on her face, the grim cast to her gaze.

“You’re going to get mad.”

Shoving himself upright, he drew his legs up and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’m already mad and I don’t even know what it is you’re talking about.”

Her pretty mouth twisted in an ugly smirk. “She’s kicking me out, Kel. Naturally, not until I’m eighteen, but she’s already told me that she wants me gone before her new husband and his kids move in.” With a loose, easy grace, Angel shoved herself upright and started to pace around the fire. “I don’t know why in the hell I’m surprised. And it’s not like I won’t be okay. Dad made sure of that.”

Rising to his feet, Kel followed her and when she turned around, she plowed straight into his chest. Gently, he reached up, closed his hands around her arms and studied her face. She was crying. Firelight flickered off the tears on her face and Kel felt his heart break a little. “Angel…”

“I’ve lived in that house since I was seven years old, Kel. The summer I turned thirteen, Dad painted my room and he did everything exactly the way I wanted. And now I have to leave it.”

Brushing her hair back from her face, he dipped his head and kissed her. “I’m sorry, Angel.”

She slid her arms around his waist and snuggled in closer. “She doesn’t care about me at all.” It was a flat, emotionless statement—there wasn’t any self-pity in it and Kel knew she wasn’t feeling sorry for herself or trying to make him feel bad for her. Although he did—he was pissed off, hurt and disgusted. But just like Angel, Kel knew what she was said was the simple truth.

Ann Mathis didn’t love her daughter. She’d dropped the Pierson from her name as soon as her husband was buried. She hadn’t loved her husband and she didn’t mourn him.

And when Angel left that house, Ann probably wouldn’t even miss her only daughter.

Cradling the back of her head in his hand, he held her close, breathed her in—Angel always smelled of honeysuckle. Even in the dead of winter, she smelled like summer and he loved it. He nuzzled her neck, stroked a hand up her back. She snuggled in closer and Kel gritted his teeth when her lower body pressed up against his.

“Kel…”

He lifted his head, forced a smile. She slid her hands between them, tugged up his shirt. Her hands were cool against his flesh. Kel stared at her face, his heart beating so hard he thought it might explode out of his chest as she slid her fingers along the waistband of his jeans.

But when she went to his belt buckle, Kel caught her hands. His body was going to make him pay for this, he knew it. Still, he caught her hands, lifted them up. Dipping his head, he kissed her knuckles.

She tugged against his hold, a strange light shining in her eyes. Whatever their weird connection was, it wasn’t anything that let him know what she was thinking, just what she feeling. Right now, there was a weird desperation inside her.

Desperation…and determination.

It was enough to lay Kel low, feeling the hungry need inside her, knowing she had made a decision he’d been praying she’d make soon. And it was an unlucky sucker punch, because there was no way Kel was going to let their first time happen when she was miserable.

“No, Angel,” he whispered, dipped his head and kissed her lips. “Not when you’re pissed off at your mom, or when you’re hurting.”

“Why not?” she demanded, jerking back. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and jerked the navy blue cotton up, over her head. Letting it fall to the ground, she reached behind to unhook her simple white bra.

Kel swore and turned away, but the image was burned in on his mind. It wasn’t just seeing her stripping naked. They hadn’t had sex yet, but they’d come close. She was so pretty, soft white curves, golden curls, pink nipples that had gone hard and tight in the cool night air.

“Because it’s not how this should be,” Kel said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He hoped he wasn’t going to do something embarrassing—like come inside his shorts just from looking at her. “We haven’t waited this long to do it because you’re pissed off at your mom and you’re hurting and you need to know somebody loves you.”

She came up behind him, slid her arms around his waist, pressed her naked breasts against his back. “I know somebody loves me—you love me. I’m doing this because you love me and because I love you and because I don’t want to think about anything but that.”

Kel caught her hands as she once more started to tug at his belt buckle. Turning in the circle of her arms, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her up. “I’ll make you stop thinking—but we’re not doing this tonight,” he said gruffly. “When we do this, it’s going to be because you’re already thinking of nothing but us. We deserve that much, Angel.”

 

July

Kel found Angel at the top of the stairs, staring into the huge room. It didn’t look that big right now, considering it was packed with boxes, Angel’s bed and a couple other pieces of furniture. Along the western wall was a small kitchen area and there was a bathroom just behind the staircase.

“Not bad, Angel.” He smirked and added, “It’s a hell of a lot better than my dorm, that’s for certain.” Of course, a shoebox might be an improvement over his dorm.

His freshman year at Georgia State University had been the first time he’d spent so much time away from Angel. She was a year younger than he was, and while she was finishing up her senior year, he’d been an hour away, only able to see her on the weekends.

It had been hell.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, a faint grin on her lips. “I don’t even know where to start.”

His arms were full of boxes and he took a minute to lower them to the ground before going to her. Standing behind her, linking his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Angel laid her arms on top of his and leaned back into him with a sigh. “I don’t think I’m going to be the type to move around a lot. I hate this.”

“You could have let your mom hire those movers,” Kel said, grinning.

“And let her kick me out that much sooner?” She wrinkled her nose. “Nah. Besides, I hate letting other people touch my stuff.”

Sliding one of his hands up over her waist, he teased, “Hey, I touch your stuff all the time.”

Angel arched, pressing against him as he cupped one breast in his hand. “Hmmm. You’re welcome to touch anything you like.”

Kel groaned and dipped his head, nuzzled her neck. “Don’t tell me that.”

Turning in the circle of his arms, she slid her hands up and linked them behind his neck. “Why not?” she whispered against his lips.

Kel cupped one hand over the back of her neck and angled her head back, taking her light, teasing kiss deeper. He circled the outline of her lips with his tongue and then teased her until she opened for him. Trailing the fingers of his free hand down along her side, he slid a hand under the hem of her T-shirt, curving his fingers around the soft, warm weight of her breast.

Caught up in her warmth, in her heat, Kel slid his lips down her neck and bit her softly. Angel shuddered in his arms, lifted her hands to his waist. Sliding them under the worn fabric of his T-shirt, she touched him, running her palms over his sides, up over his back—then up in between them, pushing against his chest until he fell back a step.

With a wry grin, Kel started to respond, “That’s why not.”

But the words ended up drying to dust on his tongue as she reached for the hem of her shirt, dragging it off. Under it, she wore a white bra dotted with little red flowers.

“Why not?” she murmured, stepping back up against him.

“Angel?” he asked hoarsely.

She tipped her head back, smiled at him and then as he stood there, she fisted her hands in the bottom of his T-shirt and stripped it off, tossing it down on the floor beside hers. That secretive little smile on her lips told him everything he needed to know. For a minute or two, Kel didn’t know if he could even move.

Terror wrapped a fist around his throat, blood roared in his ears and Kel couldn’t quite manage to take a breath. Nerves had his hands turning hot and sweaty and he knew, he just knew, he was going to end up doing something that would totally humiliate him.

But then Angel leaned in, pressed her lips to his jaw and whispered, “I love you…”

Her soft, familiar voice soothed the tangled nerves wreaking havoc on him, and the feel of her body pressed against his own took care of the rest. Abruptly, he picked her up and when she giggled, a foolish grin spread over his face as he carried her to the bed.

It was bare, not even a sheet on it yet, but neither of them cared. Settling back on his heels, Kel untied her tennis shoes and tossed them on the floor. Her socks, then her jeans followed. Then he slid off the bed to stare down at her as he took care of the rest of his clothes.

The panties matched the bra.

For some reason, the sight of her wearing those skimpy white panties dotted with red flowers turned him on even more than if she’d been completely naked. And a naked Angel was probably a damn fine sight. He wasn’t in any hurry to see that picture just yet, though. They’d seen each other wearing pretty damn little and even if Kel didn’t have a vivid imagination, he could have easily filled in those small gaps just fine.

But he wasn’t ready to see her naked yet. Once their clothes were gone, it was pretty much all over with for him. He already knew it.

Still wearing a pair of boxer-styled briefs, Kel crawled back onto the mattress and knelt between her legs, staring at her. Those red flowers were going to kill him, he thought. Especially the ones on her panties. There was one that was just where he was going to be in a couple of minutes and he lowered his head, pressing his mouth against it. His penis throbbed demandingly and he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to last very long at all once he did get inside her.

Kel was still a virgin—he thought about sex plenty. What nineteen-year-old guy didn’t? But he was also a nineteen-year-old guy in love with a girl who seemed to know his every thought—a girl he had loved and adored for years. Even during the past school year when he’d been separated from her, he hadn’t thought about messing around. He wanted it so bad, wanted it to the point of obsession, thinking about it when he was supposed to be working, thinking about when he was supposed to be studying, sleeping…

Seemed like he thought about sex all the time. There’d been a couple of times he’d get to his dorm room and his roommate would be making it with some girl, and a couple of times, the girl would bring a friend along, thinking Kel would be looking for action.

Kel wanted action, all right.

But he didn’t want it with some coed he didn’t know. He wanted it with Angel. Up until now, she hadn’t been ready and Kel would have chopped off an arm before he did something to hurt her. Until she was ready, thinking about sex was about all he’d do.

Well, think about it. Dream about it. Jacked off—a lot. And listen to friends from school. Listen quite a bit. Listen, read about it. A couple of times he’d gone to a friend’s room to study and there would be a porn flick on. It had left him feeling kind of dirty—his strict upbringing, no doubt.

But there had been things on those flicks, things that he might not really care to watch, but things he was dying to do with Angel. Like kissing her through those white cotton panties, like pulling them aside and staring down at the pale blonde curls covering her, licking her there and grinning when she bucked against his mouth.

Turned out that imagination and dreaming about sex could come in pretty damn useful, because she was wet and hot under him when he finished. Panting and whimpering. She lifted her arms to him and he started to crawl up her body—only to freeze and swear. “Damn it, Angel, I don’t have anything…”

But, just like she so often did, Angel knew what he was thinking. She smiled. “There’s something in my jeans.”

Something turned out to be a couple of foil-wrapped condoms and Kel slid her a look. “You planned this.”

“Yep.” She sat up, glanced at the condoms in his hand and then down between his thighs. He blushed a painful shade of red, but she was too busy staring at his erection to notice his blush. “You know how to put that on?”

“I think I can figure it out,” Kel muttered. His fingers trembled as he tore it open and he had a feeling all his nerves wouldn’t be so damn acute if she wasn’t watching so closely. But Angel was going to watch, no matter what—and he wasn’t about to wait until he wasn’t so nervous about all of this.

Nineteen years without sex was plenty long enough, he figured. So he tore open the foil packet and as Angel watched, he fumbled with it, dropped it once, but managed to get it on. The nerves faded then, as he lifted his gaze and stared at her.

It was like tunnel vision—Angel became his entire existence as she lay back and reached for him. Her long blonde hair, those soft blue eyes, all those pink and white curves and the wispy blonde curls between her thighs. Those blonde curls hid soft, wet pink flesh. Touching her, Kel hissed out at the feel of her, silky wet and hot, so hot. “Am I going to hurt you?” he asked hoarsely.

“Probably. I don’t care.”

And he did—by the time it was over, she was crying, soft, gasping sounds that tore at him. Guilt ate a hole inside him as he rolled away from her. How could something that made him feel so good hurt her like that? How could he enjoy it?

“I’m sorry,” he said into the silence.

Angel rolled over and nestled up against him. “I’m not.” She lifted up on her elbow, tears still damp on her face, and gave him a wobbly smile. “We knew it would hurt.”

Wiping away her tears, Kel said, “I didn’t know I’d end up making you cry over it.”

Angel shrugged. “If it just hurts a little bit the first time, then so what? You’re not sorry, are you?” When he remained silent, Angel lifted a brow. Propping her cheek on her hand, she watched him. “Are you?”

Rolling his eyes, Kel muttered, “No.” He pulled her naked body onto his, her hair falling around them like a blanket. With his voice muffled against her neck, he muttered, “But you didn’t like it at all. I should have made you like it.”

“I liked it just fine.” Angel kissed him. “I love you. That’s all I needed…” Then she lifted her head and grinned down at him, wagging her brows comically. “At least this time.”

 

September

Kel held the phone to his ear, pretty sure he’d misunderstood. “You’re what?”

Angel sighed. “Babysitting.”

“You’re babysitting. Angel…we’re supposed to go out.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sounded a bit pissed off. “But Derek asked me and I had a hard time saying no.” Her step-dad wasn’t half bad—another pushover as far as Kel was concerned, considering he’d married Ann and actually thought she was going to be faithful.

Derek also had two kids and Kel had to admit, they were cute kids. One was eight and she could ramble on for hours. The other was a four-year-old boy who made monkeys in the zoo look tame. But as cute as the kids were, he couldn’t believe he was being ditched for them.

“You’re mad.”

Kel sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Not mad, really. Just aggravated.” They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a week. School had started and although they both attended Georgia State, the campus was huge. He got to see Angel more often than last year, but not enough. Not for him. They rarely got to see other during the week and it was worse now that Kel had picked up a part-time job at nights.

“You know…you could come over.”

Kel laughed. “Yeah, that’s exactly how I planned to spend Friday night…you, me and two shrieking kids.”

“Actually, it’s three. Lindsey has a friend spending the night.”

“Even more exciting.” Leaning back against his desk, he propped the phone on his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “So after they go to bed, can we make out on the couch?”

“I was hoping you’d ask. You still have to work until nine?”

Kel eyed the clock on the wall as he answered, “Yeah, and I’m going to have to get going or I’m going to be late. You got any idea how late Derek and your mom will be?”

“He said by eleven or so. Knowing Mom, that might not happen. But maybe we can try to grab a movie or something after.”

Kel grinned. “I vote for the or something. At your place.” Another reason why they couldn’t see each other as much—he still lived on campus, but Angel had her apartment, nice, private. All hers.

Much as he loved his folks, he definitely enjoyed the freedom that came from not living at home. But damn, there was even less privacy in the dorm than at home. Unlike his roommate, both the one from his freshman year and this one, Kel had no desire to take Angel to his dorm to make love to her. He preferred privacy, thanks.

The couch at her mom’s house wasn’t the same as the bed at Angel’s, but it was better than nothing.

“Or something, huh?” Angel said. Her voice softened, becoming a low, husky purr that sent shivers down his spine. “Hmm…like the sound of that. And we can do that no matter how late they get back…”

 

 

Shooting a glance at the clock, Angel wished Kel would hurry up and get here. It would probably be another half hour, easy, before he made it, though.

Still, it didn’t keep her from sending the clock another look before five minutes had passed. She was jumpy. Uncertain of the reason, she made a pass through the house, checked all the locks, checked the windows. Everything was locked up, shut down and the kids were having the time of their lives upstairs.

No reason for her to feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin… But she did. Trying to make herself relax, she settled down in on the couch and turned on the TV. She found an episode of Law and Order, the only new show worth watching as far as she was concerned.

But Lenny wasn’t doing much to distract her tonight. When the phone rang, she jumped and just barely managed to keep from yelping in alarm. Feeling like a moron, Angel hit the mute button on the TV and grabbed the phone. The caller ID read Unknown Number and she laid it back down without answering.

It stopped after ten rings—then a heartbeat later, it started again. This time, Angel sighed and answered, “Hello?”

But nobody replied. All she heard was heavy breathing.

Part of her wanted to be amused.

But the other part… Now she understood what was wrong, why she was so jumpy, why she’d felt so edgy ever since she’d shown up at the house where she’d grown up.

Evil…

It whispered through the air, chilled her flesh, and deep down inside her, she felt cold. All her life, Angel had known she wasn’t normal. She heard whispers in the night, she saw things before they happened—like Kel. She’d been all of seven when they first met. But when she looked at him, one of her weird little flashes hit and she’d seen them—not kids like they had been, but older, all grown up. She’d been wearing white, he’d been wearing black and she’d heard You may now kiss the bride. From the time she was seven, she’d known she’d marry Kel.

If that wasn’t weird, Angel didn’t know the definition of the word.

That weirdness was on her now, and riding strong as she lowered the phone down. Her hand shook and it took two tries to get the phone to hang up. She glanced at the clock hanging over the fireplace. It was just after nine-thirty. Kel was off work, heading her way. But it would probably be close to ten before he got to Greenburg.

Upstairs, she heard mad little giggles and the occasional shriek of laughter. Slowly, she rose from the couch and headed for the stairs, following the sounds of play with the knot of cold fear lodged in her belly.

Halfway up the stairs, the phone started to ring again. There was a table on the landing and it held another extension. Coming to a stop by the phone, she eyed the caller ID display. Unknown Number.

She grabbed the phone and lifted it to her ear, keeping her voice down as she said, “What in the hell do you want?”

A low, nasty chuckle came through the line. Angel shivered as it seemed to wrap around her, echoing through the air. Not possible, the man was on the other end of the line and not in the house.

But she could feel the laughter. It turned her blood to ice and then he spoke.

“You, sweet baby girl. I want you.”

The phone went dead.

Abruptly, the noise from the second floor died. The laughter stopped, the TV went silent and the house was as cold and silent as a tomb. Clutching the cordless phone in her hand, she raced up the stairs, towards her step-siblings’ rooms.

Joey was laying in the hall just around the corner. So still and quiet. Kneeling by him, she laid a hand on his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart. But he didn’t so much as flinch when she touched him and when she called his name, he didn’t waken.

Carefully, she lifted him in her arms and carried him into Lindsey’s bedroom. After laying Joey on the bed, she went to shut the door, dialing 911 as she went. Leaning back against the door, she lifted the phone to her ear and waited for an answer.

But no answer came. No answer. No dial tone. No ring. Nothing but dead air. She disconnected and checked for a dial tone. Nothing. Her breath started to come in shallow, harsh pants.

Lindsey and her friend Sloan were sprawled in the floor in the same boneless way she’d found Joey. Their chests moved in a slow, regular pattern. The TV screen continued to flicker, but there was no sound.

It was so quiet in the house that when the eerie laughter started a few minutes later, Angel jumped. Terror made her sluggish. It was like moving through Jell-O as she turned and pressed her ear to the door, listening.

That strange, eerie laughter continued and now it seemed to echo all around her, not just out in the hall. A dark ugly cloud wrapped her mind and Angel had to concentrate to think past the fear. But the more she focused, the easier it became. The cloud seemed to lift from her mind and once more, the laughter came from one clear direction, instead from everywhere.

“My…you’re a strong one, aren’t you?”

Through the door, Angel demanded, “What in the hell do you want?”

“I already told you that, baby girl. I want you.”

Although he made no sound, she knew it when he touched the door. She could feel it. Cold seeped through the sturdy, white-painted wood and she almost took a step back. Scared to death, she looked back at the three sleeping, helpless kids. “What did you do to the kids?”

“Nothing, baby girl. They just sleep…for now.” The man dropped the friendly tone and his voice went hard-edged as he snapped, “But if I don’t get you tonight, I’ll take them.”

Angel swore she could feel her throat close up. Black dots swarmed her vision and the world danced around in dizzying circles. Don’t you dare pass out! she screamed silently. Catching the inside of her cheek between her teeth, she bit down until she tasted blood and focused on the pain of that. The blackness receded, just a little, and she sucked air in through a tight throat.

Staring at the door, she backed away slowly.

The pure evil waiting on the other side of the door was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Not even in her dreams—and she had some seriously weird dreams—had she experienced anything like this.

The fine hairs on her arms and neck stood upright and her skin all but crawled from the tension in the air. Tension—no, that didn’t describe it. This wasn’t tension. It was cloying, thick and noxious. It was like the man’s malice had taken corporeal form. Every so often, she almost glimpsed some dark, hazy mist snaking in under the door, through the cracks in the side.

Reaching for her.

“What do you want me for?” she asked, her voice so faint, she barely even heard it herself.

But he heard it. Laughing that bone-chilling, ugly laugh, he answered, “Don’t you know? Hmmmm…that mind of yours, you got power, girl. So sweet…so clean—I want it.”

His voice turned hard and cold again, like knives made of ice. “Open the door, girl. You don’t really want me to come in and get you, do you?”

Desperate, scared, she looked at the kids. They lay still, sleeping—no, it was deeper than sleep. They were totally unaware of what was going on and she was thankful for that much. An overwhelming sense of helplessness swamped her. There wasn’t anyway she could protect them if she got hurt—and that was exactly what was going to happen.

In her gut, she knew it.

Just like she knew there was nothing she could do to protect herself.

“Open the door!” This time, his voice was so loud, so deep and powerful, it hurt her eardrums. He struck the door and it rattled its frame. Little splinters of wood went flying.

Angel swallowed, took one step towards the door. She was crying, whimpering in her throat, but she didn’t even realize it. Her hand shook as she turned the doorknob and opened it, just far enough that she could slip through and she closed it behind her—as though that would keep those kids safe.

 

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up, she told herself. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t look at that man. Keeping her chin tucked low, she breathed fast, shallow. Another wave of dizziness swamped her and she swayed. A pale hand appeared in the field of her vision and she cringed, jerking back and pressing her back up against the wall.

“Look at me, sweet baby girl… Let me see those pretty eyes.” His voice was an oily, insidious whisper but the command inherent in those words was almost too strong for her to resist.

Angel resisted. Refusing to look up, she inched down the wall. She couldn’t see more than that pale hand, still reaching for her, and his feet as he mirrored her steps, following her down the hall.

“There is no point in fighting this, girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost gentle. Almost sweet. But it was underscored with that same malice she’d sense earlier and it sent shivers racing down her spine. “You can’t possibly hope to get away.”

His fingers brushed her averted cheek and she bit her lip, jerked away. If she could have disappeared inside the wall, she would have. She was so desperate to get away from his touch, from his taint. He laughed, and thanks to her gift, she knew he was amused by her fear—aroused by it. Instinctively, she darted a look up at his face and even as she did, she wondered what in the hell she was doing.

It was like looking into the gates of hell.

Lust glittered in the depths of his eyes—eyes that glowed faintly red. Hunger burned there, but it wasn’t just a hunger for sex—without understanding how she knew, Angel knew he wouldn’t just use her body and walk away. Horrifying as that thought was, he wanted more.

He had harsh, oddly handsome features, his face planed down to hollow and angles, compelling brown eyes and a mouth that looked too full, too red for his pale skin. His hair was dark, matte black against his milky complexion and long, framing his face and hanging down past his shoulders.

There was something familiar about him, but Angel couldn’t figure out why. He smiled, slowly, and Angel’s heart stopped for the briefest second. Then it started race inside her chest and a surge of adrenaline rushed through her.

“Come here, girl,” he purred, holding a hand out, palm up.

Oh, yeah, like I’m gonna do that, she thought, half hysterical. She shook her head, backing away from him, one careful step at a time, keeping her back pressed to the wall. From the corner of her eye, she could see the stairs.

His body tensed—a half second before he moved to grab her, she ducked aside and then lunged, leaping for the landing. She missed, hit the second-to-last step and fell the rest of the way. Adrenaline numbed the pain and she sprang up, dashed down the rest of the stairs—outside, get outside, see if he’ll follow you.

Away from the kids. That was what she wanted—oh, shit.

She plowed straight into his chest. How had he…?

He smiled down at her, pulling her struggling body close, totally unaffected by her attempts to fight. “I knew you’d be sweet…”

He dipped his head—it was almost like he wanted to kiss her. Angel turned her head to the side and finally, the scream trapped inside broke free. He fisted a hand in her hair and jerked her head to the side—then he bit her.

A sharp, piercing pain—there, and then gone. She struggled, whimpering, crying, but he continued to stand there, holding her pinned against him, his mouth at her neck. She could feel the pulling draws of his mouth. Revulsion snaked through her as an inkling of idea formed in her mind.

Was he… He was… The guy was drinking her blood. Angel could all but feel it flowing out of her. Time slowed down, stretched out. She was acutely aware of every little thing. Against her chest, his heart started to pound, hard powerful beats, but oddly slow. Hot tears burned their way down her cheeks and she felt each one. His hand tightened in her hair and his body shuddered against hers.

Angel shuddered as well, but it was revulsion that had her trembling. He was turned on—completely turned on by her fear and the more she cried and whimpered and fought, the more it turned him on.

“Sweet little pet,” he crooned after the longest time. He lifted his head and licked her. She flinched, trying to jerk back but the bastard was strong and she was so damn weak. “I think I’d rather like to keep you.”

He moved with a blurring speed that had her already dizzy head spinning, turning her around so that his front cuddled up to her back. Using one steely arm to both restrain and support her, he lifted his free hand. From the corner of her eye, Angel could see him moving, although she had no idea what he was doing.

Not until he suddenly shoved his bloodied wrist in front of her mouth. “Take it, baby girl.”

She clamped her lips shut, averted her head.

His voice hardened. “Take it—or what I just did to you, I’ll do to the children upstairs. They haven’t a chance in hell of resisting me.” His cold hard voice softened to an evil, menacing purr as he added, “And children, they are so soft, so frail…so easily broken. So weak… You can survive this. They cannot.”

Images rolled through her mind, but they didn’t feel like her own thoughts. It was more like watching some sick, twisted movie that she couldn’t turn off. Her stomach revolted while under her breath, she whispered, “No, no, no, nononono!”

“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck, nipped her ear with those wicked sharp teeth. “They might not offer me the feast you’d provide, but youth and innocence—it’s a sweet treat, all the same.” Once more, he shoved his wrist to her mouth. Her throat closed up and the blood pooled in her mouth, thick, cloying and vile. Instinctively, she tried to spit it out but his hand clamped over her mouth, covering her nose until she either had to swallow or choke.

She started to swallow and immediately, she began to retch. Vomit rushed up her mouth, through her nose, but the man still had his hand over her mouth and she started to choke on it. Dimly, she heard him swear and then he threw her. She hurtled through the air and crashed into the railing at the head of the stairs. Gasping for air, she shoved up on her hands and knees and started to vomit. Blood, bile and the remains of the dinner she’d shared with kids came rushing out. She puked until she’d emptied her stomach and still she continued to heave.

He made no noise but she could hear him approaching. On impulse, she cringed away but there was no place to retreat. The splintered wood of the railing cracked and groaned as she huddled against it. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and slowly looked up.

Eyes that glowed red burned down at her. His hand shot out, grabbed the front of her shirt and hauled her off the floor. “That mind of yours is stronger than I thought,” he murmured. He trailed his fingers down her cheek, almost gently, and then said in a queer voice, “I’ll have you, though. Regardless. I don’t care if I need to drain you to the brink of death to do it.”

He pulled her against him again and this time, she was so weak she didn’t have the energy to struggle. His teeth pierced her neck again, the uninjured side. It barely even hurt. The slide into oblivion was slow and easy this time and Angel wasn’t even aware of it as she drifted into unconsciousness.

 

 

The low-level burn in his gut had Kel speeding down the expressway with the gas pedal pressed to the floor. His eyes kept straying to the digital clock on the dashboard and each minute that ticked by seemed to last an hour.

All damn night, something had been driving him nuts. Edgy, anxious, itchy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Then twenty minutes ago, he’d known. The itch had bloomed into a low-level burn and he’d known.

Angel.

Something was wrong with Angel. She was in trouble.

He turned off the expressway, five miles to go. That low-level burn wasn’t low-level anymore. It was a high-octane explosion and he could feel Angel’s fear, her terror—and pain. She was in pain. She was hurt. His neck burned in sympathetic pain as he took a left on Mulberry and then sped down the street, veering onto the shoulder to go around a slow-moving minivan. The driver laid on the horn as Kel cut back onto the road.

The Estates of Whispering Oaks took up several hundred acres of land along Deermont Road. The fourth and last street was the street where Angel had lived most of her life. Kel took it at a speed that had his tires squealing and as he hit the brakes in front of her house, he realized he couldn’t feel that fear any more, or the pain.

He couldn’t feel Angel at all. Even when he tried to reach out, tried to sense her, he couldn’t feel her—it was something that had never happened. For a good eight years, from the time he was eleven—Angel had been in narrow strip of trees behind her house, playing in an old tree house built by the previous owners, and she’d fallen, broken her arm. Nobody had heard her scream but Kel had been in his room, grounded because of a C- he’d brought home on a project for science.

Something had been wrong. He’d felt a burning pain in his arm, and he’d known instinctively it was Angel. From that time on, he’d always been able to reach out and just feel her—he knew when she was happy, when she was scared. But now, he couldn’t feel her and that scared him more than anything else.

Logically, that drive took thirty-four minutes—he kept track of every last one. Those minutes were endless and when he pulled up in front of the old colonial house where Angel had grown up, he left the keys in the ignition and the engine running. Leaping up the steps, he knelt down in the flower bed and grabbed the little rabbit statuette, wiping the soil away from the false bottom and digging the key out.

He got the door open and dimly, his mind registered an electronic beeping—part of him seemed to recall the alarm system, that he needed to reset it—it was weird the way his mind cataloged all those minute details even when his heart was rushing like an express engine and his breathing coming in hard, rough pants.

As he passed by the narrow console table in the main hall, he grabbed a silver letter opener. It looked delicate but felt damn solid in his hand. The blade was thin and not meant for cutting, but the point if it was damn sharp. Not much of a weapon…

Fuck.

He saw her now, up on the landing between the first and second floors—at least he saw her hair at first, the long, pale golden sweep of it hanging down. The rest of her body was obstructed by a big, mean looking bastard who held her clutched against him.

The man shifted a little and Angel’s arm swung into view. Kel saw red. Literally—and physically. Thin streams of blood flowed down her wrist, down her slack fingers to drip down onto the floor.

Time seemed to freeze, yet speed by in an incredible blur as he tore up the stairs and rushed them. Angel was unconscious. Kel saw that almost right away as the man turned towards them, startled.

His eyes—the dude’s eyes were seriously messed up. Glowing a funky shade of red and his pupils constricted down to mere pinpoints like he was drugged. He blinked, once, twice. Like he couldn’t quite understand the fact that somebody was charging towards him with bloody murder on his mind.

He blinked a third time, kept his eyes closed a few seconds, precious seconds that allowed Kel to close the distance.

“Let her go,” Kel snarled.

The man’s eyes opened, and although they still had that weird reddish glow, the dazed, drugged look was gone. He glanced down at Angel’s slack body. She hung in his arms like a rag doll, eyes closed, her lips parted. “Hmmmm. But I don’t want to, boy. She’s quite precious. Go on now.”

The words vibrated—rippled, flowed through Kel and over him and as they faded, Kel had to fight to urge to do just as he’d been told. But it didn’t take much of a fight—just a glance at Angel’s face, just the memory of the fear he’d felt coming from her—and his complete inability to feel anything from her now.

Louder, Kel repeated, “Let her go.”

The man cocked his head, narrowed his eyes as he studied Kel—kind of like he was examining a bug under a microscope. “How odd. Two of you. In one night.” He glanced down at Angel and then smiled, stroked her hair. “I’m not done with you, precious. But the rest of this will keep…for a bit.”

Like she was so much garbage, he threw her on the ground and stepped over her, smiling at Kel. Blood stained his lips. “It’s too bad I’m only in the mood for one kind of sweet, boy. You’d be even more fun than she is—you’d fight harder.” He edged near Kel, but didn’t come at him head-on, circling around and away, that weird smile still tugging at one corner of his mouth. “All I had to do was mention the sweet little kiddies and she caved. A female’s soft spot, every time. You’ll fight, though, as long, as hard as you can, just hoping you can save her from me.”

“Shut the fuck up. Get the hell out. Now,” Kel snarled.

He laughed. With Angel’s blood staining his lips and her laying on the floor in an unconscious slump, the bastard had the nerve to laugh. Kel’s control snapped—he rushed him, fist closed tight around the letter opener. Lifting it high, he brought his arm down hard. The man jerked back but the tip of the letter opener caught his cheek, slicing him open.

He hissed, pressed a hand to his cheek. Wide-eyed, he looked at Kel and then at the letter opener.

For one brief second, Kel thought he saw fear in those strange eyes. The reddish cast grew stronger and the air in the house went cold. Kel could have sworn it dropped a good twenty degrees in five seconds flat.

The cut was bleeding, but it wasn’t the rich, vibrant red Kel would have expected to see. It was darker, a strange reddish black. And—shit—the sliced flesh seemed to be smoking. Little tendrils of smoke curled away the man’s face in wisps.

“That was a foolish thing to do, boy,” the man rasped. His gaze zeroed in on the letter open. “Drop it.”

This time, the words didn’t wash over him, didn’t slide through him in a teasing, coaxing suggestion. They crashed into him, weighty with a command that didn’t want to be ignored. Kel almost staggered under it, but he didn’t drop the letter opener.

Weird—it wasn’t some big, lethal-looking blade and it sure as hell wasn’t some kickass gun that could turn the guy’s brain into Swiss cheese. But the man continued to stare at it with his face bleeding and skin smoking. Kel tightened his fingers around it. He didn’t waste his breath talking. He just lunged for the man again.

But the man was prepared. He slid away like oiled leather, moving silent as a whisper, quick as a snake, circling around. He moved quicker than Kel could even track and Kel spun around, trying to keep his eyes on the man. He felt like he was being toyed with, like some giant cat playing with a mouse.

A hand came up between his shoulder blades, shoved him. He went flying face first to the floor. He just barely missed taking a header down the stairs as he landed on his hands and knees—the letter opener still clutched in his fist. Angel lay two feet away, her head turned from him. Her neck was exposed—he could see the ragged, ugly holes and the blood that hadn’t yet clotted up trickling down.

“I don’t really want to bother with you now, boy.” Hard, steely fingers curled around the back of Kel’s neck and he lifted him, hauled him straight off the floor. “I’ve got something a bit more pressing to deal with now. So if you want to live…just drop that paltry silver thing and run on.”

Instead, Kel swung out, caught the man’s neck—a shallow slice when what he’d tried to do was bury the silver inside the bastard’s jugular. But the cut, shallow as it was, made the man scream and throw Kel across the landing. Plaster and dust drifted down when Kel hit the wall and then slid to the floor. Spinning away, the man screamed.

When he turned back, the narrow gash on his neck was smoking. More of that dark blood flowed. “Stupid human!”

Head reeling, Kel pushed himself upright. “Damn straight.” He took one stumbling step towards the man standing at the head of the stairs, just a few feet away from Angel’s body. Kel tightened his hand around the letter open. Adrenaline began to pump through his body, numbing the pain, clearing the fog in his brain—and giving him the energy he needed to rush across the hall, tackling the maniacal bastard.

The two of them went crashing down the stairs, Kel stabbing and slicing with his makeshift weapon while the man roared. The stink of burnt flesh filled the air as Kel managed to pierce skin again and again. Brutal, inhumanly strong fingers closed around Kel’s wrist and the man squeezed. Over his scream, Kel heard bone crunch.

And the wail of sirens…

“Shite!”

The man shoved upright, wobbled as he shot a look upstairs and then at the front door. It was still open. Already red and blue lights were splashing and Kel heard footsteps as the cops came rushing towards the house, heard them with startling clarity.

“Little fucker…”

He grabbed Kel just as the cops appeared in the doorway.

Kel thought the man had moved fast before but nothing could have prepared him for the speed he moved with now as he threw Kel over his shoulder and flew towards the back of the house. The man might not have wings, but he certainly seemed to fly, navigating the halls, the furniture and hurtling through the glass doors that opened out on the patio. Literally hurtling through them, the glass shattering as he lunged straight into it.

Glass stung Kel’s eyes as he struggled. Weak struggles, though. His shattered wrist screamed with pain and his vision was red and blurry. Wind danced along his skin and he tried to see but the world spun by at breakneck speed.

The sirens faded away into the distance and soon, the only sound he heard was his own harsh breathing.

Then laughter, ugly, mean laughter.

His head struck something hard as he was flung to the ground and automatically, Kel tried to roll upright, using his elbow and his good hand. Vicious pain exploded through him as he was kicked, once, twice, three times in the gut.

“Little bugger. You had to interfere, didn’t you?” Steely fingers, ice-cold and brutal, dug into his neck and once more, Kel found himself dangling in the air.

Pain blistered through him, a black veil threatened to drop over him as unconsciousness beckoned. Desperate, struggling for a breath, he clawed at the fingers wrapped around his throat.

“Congratulate yourself, boy. You saved your little bitch. At least for now. No fucking way can I go after her any time soon—I don’t wish to draw that kind of attention to myself. But I wanted her—you got in my way. For that, I’m going to kill you, boy,” the man whispered, slowly lowering Kel until his feet touched the ground. “It’s going to be slow…and oh, so painful. Nobody interferes with what is mine.” With each word, he squeezed tighter and tighter. Kel’s oxygen-starved lungs felt like they’d explode—

And then he went crashing back to the ground. He sucked in a breath through his abused throat, gagged, tried to take another breath. Dark, red-tinged rainbows danced before his eyes. Each breath was painful, but he welcomed it. He tried to get to his feet only to get knocked back on his ass. Another brutal kick to his ribs—this time, he heard bone break. By now, even adrenaline and fear couldn’t numb the pain, but he couldn’t manage to scream either. His throat felt swollen, his tongue thick.

In that moment, Kel knew he was going to die. Too weak, hardly able to breathe, he couldn’t even find the strength to pull away when the man crouched down behind him, laid those icy cold fingers on Kel’s shoulders. Through the thin cotton of his T-shirt, he could feel those cold, strong fingers and that chill spread through him until he ached from head to toe with the intensity of it.

“The Change is so very unpleasant. Your frail mortal body may not even survive it, but if you do…” The man’s words made no sense to Kel. Struggling to breathe, to see, to think past the pain, he wobbled on his knees and would have crashed forward onto his face if cruel hands hadn’t caught him and held him.

“If you make it through, the sun will rise on your new body, you will burn. Suffer every bit of the pain…and think on how you could have just walked away.”

Walk away…from what? Kel thought.

With that inhuman strength, the man grabbed Kel and jerked him backward. Pain flared in Kel’s neck, ripping, burning, tearing—distantly, Kel realized the man had bit him and through the pain, Kel could still feel the man’s wicked sharp teeth, his icy mouth—and blood. Kel’s blood, hot as fire, flowing over his chilled flesh.

The man rode him to the ground under his greater weight, crushing him. Face pressed into the dirt, unable to breathe, Kel was helpless.

When finally the man pulled away, the gray cloud of oblivion beckoned but there would be no escaping into it. He was turned over. His uninjured hand grabbed at the dirt beneath him, fingers digging into it. As his fingers closed around something thin, rough, the man crouched by his side, lifting a wrist.

“Your little bitch fought when I tried to bring her over—I wonder how much fight you’ve got left.” He sank his teeth into his wrist, tore the flesh and then fisted a hand in Kel’s hair, jerking him up and forcing Kel’s mouth to his wrist. “I’ll think of you when I get my hands on her—and she’ll suffer for it. Die knowing that.”

Like hell. As the bitter, thick blood trickled down Kel’s swollen throat, he swung out.

It was a scream that no mortal creature, man or animal, should be able to make. It echoed through the night, rebounding through the trees and as Kel slipped into oblivion, his last sight was that of a stick, not much bigger than a butter knife, protruding from one of the man’s eyes.

 

 

“We’re too late.” It was a grim, angry voice, made all the more nerve-wracking by the fact that it came from a big man who carried a long, curved sword in his left hand.

Rafe watched as his wife, Sheila, knelt down by the boy and touched him.

“He’s cold,” Sheila murmured.

In the air, Rafe could smell the taint of a feral vampire, the rage and the violence. And the blood. “He fed him—just enough to start the Change, I’d bet, so the poor kid would die out here in the open as the sun came up.”

Sheila’s soft blue eyes went wintry with fury but her hand was gentle as she wiped some of the still-tacky blood away from the boy’s face. “Rafe, he’s just a kid.”

Stroking a hand down Sheila’s hair, Rafe said, “We’ll take care of him, Belle. Come on…we need to get—”

His voice broke off abruptly, a breath hissing out between his teeth. His head went back, his eyes closing. “Damn it—bastard’s still close. He’s looking… Oh, shit. Ain’t that a son of a bitch.” He looked back at Sheila and his dark brown eyes had a weird reddish glow.

Recognizing the look, Sheila sighed. Smiled. “Go on, slick. I can get this one to the car okay.” She narrowed her eyes. “You are going to have to leave me the car. I can’t carry him indefinitely.”

Rafe turned over the keys to his ‘57 Bel Aire without batting an eyelash. That, all by itself, told Sheila how strong the urge was riding her husband. Rafe didn’t turn over those keys very easily at all—and never without a number of promises that she take care of his precious car.

Okay—maybe Rafe didn’t call the car precious, but it amounted to the same thing.

All Hunters felt these urges, an impulse that could drag them out of bed, drag them miles through the night to find whoever was pulling at them.

In this case, it had dragged them quite a few miles. Hundreds, in fact. Rafe and Sheila lived in Memphis, Tennessee, and usually, they stayed in western Tennessee. Rafe hadn’t ever felt anything pull at him in such a way, at least not until now.

Sheila hadn’t ever seen him under such a strong grip. Not once. It had scared her, bothered her enough that she had demanded he take her with him. He hadn’t wanted to, so she’d just settled her ass in the Bel Aire and refused to get out.

Rafe knew her well enough to know better than to argue, so instead of arguing, they’d left the enclave in the hands of Rafe’s lieutenant, Dominic, and hit the road. The first few hundred miles sped by in silence, Sheila sensing nothing but the urgency rolling off Rafe.

But then Sheila had started sensing it. Sensing them, this man who seemed too damn young, and a vampire. The vampire wasn’t one that Sheila could identify. Vamps had a feel to them, almost as individual as smell or a set of fingerprints. But it was a psychic thing and Sheila’s psychic skills were nothing to brag about.

Rafe, though? Rafe was a Master vamp, powerful enough to feel this call from so far away. Strong enough to feel the feral, too, from wherever in the hell the bastard was. And despite what Rafe said, it wasn’t that close. Sheila wasn’t a strong Hunter, but if there was a feral anywhere close, she’d feel it, too.

Close. It was all relative, she guessed. Rafe glanced at her, at the kid sprawled on the forest floor, pale as death, his heartbeat weak and slow. “Can you get him to the car okay?”

Sheila smiled. “Yeah, slick. I think I can handle one kid.”

Rafe didn’t wait another second. He disappeared into the woods on swift, silent feet and Sheila sighed, whispered, “Be careful.”

She set about getting the kid thrown over her shoulder. He wasn’t as light as she would have expected—some seriously solid muscle on him, even as lanky as he was. He groaned, a soft, tortured sound. Sheila winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry, sugar.” He had to be hurting. Already, he was going through the Change, but it was at a slow rate. She could feel it burning through him, moving at a crawl.

The Change was usually a hell of a lot quicker. Sheila remembered her own change. When you were going through it, it was slow, sheer agony. But she’d watched others go through it and the Change actually moved pretty damn quick. It took three days, but during those three days, the mortal body changed. The digestive system altered. Fangs formed and cut through. Bone and muscle became tougher, stronger. Senses were heightened.

All within a mere seventy-two hours.

But this kid, if he lived through, was probably going to be stuck in the Change for close to a week. Some blood would help. Once she got him someplace safe, she’d feed him a little, but a major feed would have to wait until Rafe showed up. A baby vamp needed stronger stuff than she had in her veins.

You are what you eat.

Snorting, Sheila muttered, “Yeah, with us, that’s a fact.” She continued to talk, not because she expected him to really hear her, but she knew the sound of a voice was a comfort. So she talked.

“You want to be strong, first feed has to come from the strong.” Finally, she broke through the trees and emerged where Rafe had parked the car. In the moonlight, the baby-blue paint was colorless, the chrome reflecting the silvery moonlight back at her. “Here we go, sugar. Just a few more minutes…”

She shot a glance towards the horizon, but it was still dark. The edgy anxiety riding her wasn’t coming from the sun’s approach. It was this totally bizarre situation. Her husband out there Hunting a feral and Sheila had her arms full of a baby vamp who looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer—and lost.

“Wonder how old you are,” she said, trying to keep up an endless flow of words. “Don’t look much more than seventeen or eighteen. God, please, at least be that old…”

Manhandling him into the back, she settled him on the bench seat as gently as she could. Hard, though. He was a long, lanky bastard and she had to plop his big feet on the floor board to close the door. Shoving her hair back from her face, she muttered, “Rafe gets to have all the fun.”

 

 

It was nearly dawn before Sheila sensed his return.

Her blood went hot, feeling the echo of the adrenaline that pulsed through him. Even though he hadn’t even reached the hotel room yet, she could feel the wildness. Shoving off the bed closest to the door, she went to meet him, smiling a little.

Her smile faded, died away as she saw Rafe’s face, though.

“You didn’t find him.”

His dark, sexy face was set in grim, harsh lines. “Yeah, I found him, right as he was getting ready to kill some stupid teenager. He felt me coming, crushed the kid’s larynx—I had a choice, either go after him, or help the kid.” His mouth twisted in a snarl.

“You did what you had to do, Rafe.” She stroked a hand down his face.

Blowing out a breath, he shoved a hand through his short, dark hair. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s going to be a real comfort when he kills again.” Glancing over her shoulder, he studied the new vamp and said softly, “And it won’t be a comfort to him, either.”

Rafe closed his eyes, lowered his head. Wide shoulders slumped. When he looked back at her, there was a screaming hell in his eyes. “There was another one hurt, a girl.” Rafe jerked his chin in the direction of the bed. “I won’t know what happened until I talk to him, but I could smell the feral and the boy there. Police all over the place, I couldn’t get too close. But I heard enough. There was a girl attacked, probably right before this kid—I think he must have interrupted.”

A fist closed around Sheila’s heart. Unconsciously, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest. “What’s going on with the girl?”

Rafe shrugged, but the motion lacked his normal grace. It was jerky, stiff. “She’s alive. Low on blood. Unconscious.”

“Think the feral will go after her again?”

Rafe sighed. “Hell, I don’t know. Not if he’s halfway sane. She’s in a hospital, surrounded by people. No vamp wants the attention it would attract if he went after her there. But since I didn’t find and kill that that fucker, I’ll have to get somebody in to watch her.”

He started to move past her, shucking the long leather coat he wore. Sheila stopped him by stepping in front of him and sliding her arms around his waist. “You’re not Superman, slick. We aren’t guardian angels and we aren’t miracle workers.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. Cupping her face, he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “I got an angel of my own, only seems fair everybody gets one.”

Snickering, Sheila said, “I’m not an angel.” Then she grinned, pushed up on her toes. “But if I am…sweetie, don’t take this wrong, but I don’t want you being an angel for anybody but me.” She kissed him until she felt some of the tension drain out of him. Pulling back, she skimmed her lips down his neck. “If he’s around here, we’ll find him. Dawn’s coming… He’ll be doing the same thing we’re doing, finding some place to hole up. We got time for now.”

“Time.” Rafe sighed. He rubbed his mouth against hers and then stepped back, finished stripping his coat off. “Yeah. Time to feed some poor kid that oughta be home having wet dreams about his girlfriend. Watch him like a newborn, try to keep the Change from killing him.”

Grimacing, Sheila folded her arms around her waist. “That might be easier said than done.”

Hooking a hand over the back of his neck, Rafe rotated his head one way, then the other. “Tell me about it.”

Sheila urged him to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to have Dom come out here?”

Shooting her a glance, he asked, “Why?”

Digging her fingers into the stiff muscles of his neck and shoulders, she worked out some of the tension there. Rafe hated it when his prey got away. Hated when they didn’t make it in time to help, and neither of them were pleased with the fact that they’d saved the new vamp from sunlight…but not from having the Change forced on him. “Because we’re going to have our hands full getting this one to Excelsior. You don’t want to let this feral slip away from us, do you?”

His muscles had started to loosen just a little, but then bunched up and Sheila sighed, watched as Rafe shoved off the bed and started to pace the narrow hotel room. “Yeah, we can call Dom. But he can help you get the kid to Excelsior and I’ll track the prick down.“

It wasn’t a suggestion that surprised her, but it was one that wasn’t workable. She shook her head. “That won’t work. You need to feed him and he’ll need another feed here in the next few days. We both know it will be better for him if it’s the same vamp guiding him over. And he can’t wait until Dom gets here to feed.” Lifting her hands, she shrugged helplessly. “I gave him some, but I’m not strong enough to get him anchored, much less get him through this.“

Rafe went still, still as death, still as the night. In a low, furious voice, he muttered, “Damn it!”

“Rafe…call Dom. He can handle the feral, but that kid needs you now.“

Scowling, Rafe shoved a hand through his hair and then nodded. “Fine.” Stalking to the phone, he grabbed the receiver. Abruptly, he slammed it back down. “You know who in the hell I’m going to have to leave in charge?”

Tucking her tongue into her cheek, Sheila tried not to smile. “Yeah.”

“Hell, no.”

She couldn’t fight the grin any more. “There’s no choice, baby. Josiah is the only one who can run things if both you and Dom are gone.”

Swearing, Rafe once more grabbed the phone. “I need more people. Shit.”

Sheila laughed. Yeah, leaving Josiah in charge was going to be interesting.