“She won’t wait,” Andrew replies. “You need to get back. Now.”
I look at Elliot, every instinct in me pulling toward her. Toward staying. Toward making sure she’s safe.
But Vittoria unchecked is a bloodbath waiting to happen.
I hate this. The last thing I want to do right now is be away from her. There are so many things I want to tell her, like how she may be wearing my collar but it’s she who owns me, heart, body, and soul. Like how losing her would destroy me.
Like how I…love her.
It’s a truth that has always been there, one I’ve known for a long time.
I just don’t know if she’ll ever be able to forgive me for what I’ve done.
I turn to Andrew. “You’re taking her. You don’t leave her alone—not for a second.”
Andrew glances at Elliot. “I’ve got her.”
I step closer to her, my hands finding Elliot’s face and bringing it toward mine. “Go. Get what you need. Say what you need to say. I’ll deal with Vittoria. And then I’ll deal with Santiago.”
I kiss her, a slow, fierce promise pressed into her mouth. She rises on her toes to meet me and her arms come around my neck, wanting more. But I force myself to step back.
“I’ll see you both back at VMR,” I say as Andrew guides her away.
I stand there long after they’re gone, the echo of her warmth still burning on my mouth.
Vittoria had always said loving Nell had been my weakness. But with Elliot, love doesn’t weaken me. She’s my strength; it empowers me.
And God help Santiago for making himself my target.
Chapter
Thirteen
Elliot
I’m not alone.
If I was still human, I’d be picking up the nearest weapon and getting ready to fight. If I was still human, I’d be hiding, running, calling the cops.
Whoever’s here in my old apartmentisn’thuman. I don’t smell sweat, excitement, anger, or any other thing that humans give off.
It’s not Lucy. I know when he’s near. Always have, even before I was turned. It’s not Andrew. The young-looking vampire is waiting for me in the hallway, wanting to give me some privacy at least.
It’s someone else.
I head into my bedroom.
There, stretched out on the bed. Santiago. Arms tucked behind his head, eyes closed, too relaxed, too at home. As though breaking into my space after trying to burn me alive is justanother Tuesday evening for him.
Maybe it is.
My vision goes red. The urge to tear into him, to feel bone give way and blood spill, hits fast and vicious. Every part of me wants to end him where he lies, to repay fire with fangs and force.
But that’s exactly what he wants.
I could yell, call for Andrew, but that would most likely turn into a blood bath, one I don’t think Andrew would be able to walk out alive from.
As I step in, Santiago’s eyes snap open, and he smiles that feline-like smile.
