Frost Burn Page 7

  “Cassie level power?” Luther inquired.

  “No one has that level of power. However, Cassie was an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Quinn is stronger than she should be for her age. Maybe she was a Hunter before she was changed, it might explain why she’s so strong.”

  Luther shook his head and lifted his glasses up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “I spent all night pouring over books. I’ve called the only other Guardian I trust. Neither of us were able to locate a Hunter named Quinn who would fit her age parameters. Even if she’d lied about her age by a couple of years there is no record of a Quinn ever having existed amongst the Hunter line. She’s more powerful, but it’s not because she was a Hunter before being turned.”

  Julian pondered this as he continued to stare at the ceiling. “If she’s lying about her age, it’s not by much. She’s a fledgling vampire; I can feel it. Is there any chance her family could have kept her hidden from The Commission and other Hunters?”

  “There’s a chance, but I don’t see why they would. She would have been born before The Elders unleashed The Slaughter on The Hunters and Guardians. Born before we realized what bastards the members of The Commission were. There would have been no reason to keep her hidden.”

  “So we’re back to square one.” It felt like a woodpecker had mistaken his head for a tree. He rubbed at his temples as he tried to ease the throbbing there.

  Luther dropped his glasses back into place. “Perhaps she was turned by an extremely powerful vampire and that’s why she’s so strong.”

  Julian shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I didn’t think so, but it’s the only other guess I have.” Julian turned to look at the man beside him. Luther was the smartest guy Julian knew, if he was out of guesses then they were in trouble. “Chris thinks she’s trustworthy. She’s fearful of our intentions, and he thinks she’s had it rough, but she’s not malicious.”

  “She’s not,” Julian confirmed.

  “What did you see when you touched her?”

  “A lot of death, blood, pain and screams, but she didn’t create it. She’s definitely experienced a traumatic and brutal past event.”

  “You didn’t see anything to explain her existence?” Luther asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you plan to try and look deeper?”

  Julian bowed his head and ran his hand through his disheveled hair as Luther asked him the question he’d been contemplating all night. “No. She’s not a threat. If it becomes necessary for me to search deeper, I will, but she should be allowed to keep her life her own, for now.”

  “Maybe if you tell her that you’ll get the couch tonight,” Luther replied with a laugh.

  “You could always keep watch tonight.”

  “I think I’d get the couch, she seems to like me more.”

  “I think you always get the couch when it comes to women,” Julian retorted.

  Luther slapped him on the back. “Not always my friend. You’re just not used to being kicked out of a woman’s place.”

  Julian shook his head at him, but after two years, he couldn’t deny he still found pleasure in moments of friendship like this. “I’m not,” he agreed with a smile.

  Whatever Luther’s next words were going to be, they were cut off by the deadbolt being released. A second later the door to Quinn’s apartment opened, and she poked her head into the hallway. Her eyebrows shot up when she spotted them sitting there.

  “Did you stay out here all night?” she demanded.

  “I did. This old bag of bones wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” Julian waved his hand at Luther before rising to his feet.

  Delicate lines etched her forehead as she shook her head. “Are you going to stay out here for the rest of the day?”

  “You may prefer it if I did, but I’m not walking into the sunlight anytime soon,” he replied.

  She glanced at the other closed doors lining the hall before looking at him again. “You’re going to freak out my neighbors.”

  “Sweet old lady across the hall, we exchanged pleasantries this morning.” His smile only earned him a scowl. He’d known many women in his lifetime, but she’d glared at him more in one day than any of the others.

  Her attention turned to Luther before she took a step back. “You might as well come in again.”

  “I have to get back to the motel,” Luther said and rose to his feet. “I need some sleep.”

  Julian’s attention was drawn to her right hand on the doorknob and the faded red scar marking it. The scar ran across almost the entire back of her hand in a straight slit. Judging by how faded it was, it was about the same age as the scars marring her face. His gaze slid to her left hand. The palm was turned toward him to reveal a nearly identical scar running across it.

  What has she been through? He thought as his eyes darted back to hers. Her skin had become paler, her face drawn as she held his gaze. “Try not to ruin anything,” she told him briskly and stepped aside.

  A lot of cracks about what he was sure was junkyard furniture ran through his mind, but he held his tongue. She’d kick him back out faster than she’d let him in. The command had also been her way of saying, don’t come in and snoop around by touching my things. His interest in her grew stronger with each passing second; he would find out about her, but she would be the one to tell him.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said to Luther and stepped into her apartment.

  Quinn stared at Luther before shutting the door and sliding the lock back into place. She gave him a large side step as she walked toward the kitchen. He contemplated telling her he could turn his ability off, but he figured as long as she kept her secrets he could keep a few of his own too.

  Quinn had been hoping she’d be wrong, and he wouldn’t be sitting in her hallway. However, it hadn’t surprised her to see him there. She felt his eyes burning into her as she walked around him. She resented that he’d inserted himself into her life, but she had to admit he looked more delicious than any peanut butter cup right now.

  His hair was tussled; a shadow lined his square jaw. The predatory glint in his eyes made her body quicken in response. She was supposed to be staying as far from this man as possible, not admiring him.

  “Is your hair dyed?” she blurted. It was the most inane question, but it had been meant as a way to distract herself from the urge to jump him.

  He ran a hand through his platinum blond hair. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would dye his hair?”

  “You look like the kind of guy who would rip off someone’s head and use it as a soccer ball, so I imagine you’d be up for anything.”

  A smirk curved his luscious mouth. “I can assure you Dewdrop, I’m not much for soccer, but I am one hundred percent natural. I was simply blessed with these abnormally striking looks.” No one could ever accuse him of having no self-confidence or being shy, she realized. “I can always prove I’m a natural blond if you’d like me to,” he added with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

  There wasn’t one drop of saliva left in her mouth. As enticing as the proposition was, and she wasn’t above admitting it was extremely enticing, it could never happen. “Thanks, but no,” she responded with more composure than she felt.

  “Your mouth says no, but your eyes say yes.”

  Her skin felt like it crackled as fury slithered over her. How he’d managed to survive for as long as he had without someone killing him completely mystified her. She may be the one to remedy that by the time she was able to free herself from him. “Believe me that’s not what my eyes are saying,” she bit out.

  “Murder and passion are a fine line, no?”

  “Ugh!” she shouted.

  She threw her hands up, turned on her heel and stormed into the kitchen. Peanut butter cups and Mountain Dew weren’t going to be enough to take the edge off, but she didn’t have to look at the windows to know the sun was still out. What she needed was blood and not animal blood, his blood. She
shot him a scathing glance over her shoulder as she grabbed a soda from the fridge.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He leaned in the doorway of the kitchen to watch as she walked over to sit on the edge of the garden window. It was the one place in the apartment she truly loved. Even if she couldn’t stand in the sun’s rays without suffering excruciating pain, she could feel their warmth through the blinds on the window.

  “How has someone not killed you yet?” she asked.

  “Many have tried, all have failed.”

  “I believe you.”

  “You’ll learn that I never lie.” She didn’t have his or Chris’s ability, but she didn’t doubt him for a second. He rubbed at his neck as he studied her. Dropping his hand down, he gestured to the bag at his feet. “Do you mind?”

  “Do I mind what?” she inquired.

  “If I change my shirt.”

  “No, the bathroom’s through…”

  Her instructions died on her lips when he grabbed hold of the end of his shirt and pulled it off. Whatever she’d been about to say became lost in the rapid circuit fire of her brain as she strained not to gawk at him. His adorable sleep disheveled appearance became the least of her problems when presented with his broad, muscular chest. Those pecs were enough to make any woman drool, and forget about a quarter, those abs would bounce a brick!

  The compulsion to start whistling and stare at the ceiling grabbed her. She would not back down from this man though, no matter how much she yearned to run her fingers over his pale, silken skin. The wings of his angel tattoo touched against his shoulder, the muscles it was etched onto flexed as he bent to tug another shirt free from the bag. He slid the maroon colored shirt over his head and tugged it down over the muscles she was doing everything in her power not to lick. He finally covered the body she’d found so unsettling, but she knew if she closed her eyes she would vividly recall every chiseled detail of that torso.

  “Where did you get that couch, the dump?” he asked.

  And nothing like his insults to douse the heat he’d stoked within her. “The roadside.”

  He gave a small snort. “Dewdrop come on, you’re a vampire.”

  “So?” she retorted.

  “So you can still get things without having to kill people. Steal if you must, but living in squalor is below any of our kind.”

  “I’m not living in squalor!” she snapped. Her gaze slid over her apartment, it wasn’t a mansion, but it was far from an alleyway. She had everything she needed. “I’ve worked for everything I have. I didn’t steal it, hustle anyone for it, or use my abilities to get it. Maybe you should try being a decent person sometime.”

  “But we’re not people, Dewdrop.”

  Frustration got the best of her. “Why do you keep calling me that?” she demanded.

  He gestured toward the can of soda in her hand. “You’re still trying to be human; the rest of us have accepted our fates.”

  Her fingers curled around the can as she briefly contemplated heaving it at him. The aluminum crinkled inward with a crunching noise that made him grin. “I accepted my fate years ago.”

  “Not completely.”

  “That’s awfully freaking funny coming from someone hanging around with a group of Guardians and Hunters. If you’ve accepted your fate what are you doing with them? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your own kind?”

  “Our own kind.” Quinn’s nostrils flared; before she could heave the can at him, he continued speaking. “It’s a long and complicated story, one I’m not much in the mood for telling.”

  “And I’m not much in the mood for your outstanding insights, but I’m still forced to hear them.”

  He’d stopped smiling as he studied her. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you, but not today. I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Oh, sure, make yourself at home,” she muttered when he turned away.

  She couldn’t complain too much, at least he remained dressed while he walked through her living room toward her bedroom. The idea of him in her bedroom bothered her. At least she’d remembered to make her bed and toss all her dirty clothes in the hamper before opening the front door.

  “I plan to as long as you insist upon staying here,” he called over his shoulder.

  Quinn seethed as she heard the water of the shower turn on, but even as her fingers crushed the can further within her grasp, she couldn’t help but picture water running over his sculpted flesh. Ah shit, she thought and tossed the can into the sink. She was so screwed right now, she didn’t know how to begin to dig her way out of it.

  She briefly contemplated digging the punching bag out from her closet and taking some of her frustration out on it, but she decided against it. She might forget all about the bag when he got out of the shower and punch him instead. The same with the dummy she used to practice her stake and knife throwing on. It definitely wasn’t a good idea to have stakes and knives in her hands while he was walking around.

  Chapter Eight

  Julian kept the pool stick in his hand and watched Quinn as she made her way around the room to wait on the people gathered within. There would be more vampires coming for her. He knew that, but if she refused to leave town then he was going to make damn certain she stayed safe. Her ability in the wrong hands would be disastrous, and if the vampires succeeded in taking her, they would destroy her.

  There were few who came through the transformation from human into a vampire with the ability to withstand their malicious, driving impulses. Impulses that turned them into murderers and made them believe they had no other choice but to kill. He wasn’t about to let her be destroyed by the corrupting ability and cruelty of many in the vampire race. Destroying someone, bending and warping them was something he knew could be done; he’d done it more than a few times himself over the years.

  The idea of throwing her over his shoulder and forcing her onto the RV was entirely tempting. With her insistence she stay here, there was no way he could drag her onto the RV. She could kill the Guardians and possibly Melissa, Chris, and Zach if she got her hands on them. He wasn’t about to put their lives at risk if she felt cornered enough to turn on them.

  He didn’t like the idea of staying here, but right now he didn’t have much of a choice. He’d gotten as much information as he could from Scully when he’d touched him. Most of what he’d gleaned, Scully had already revealed to him.

  “Your turn,” Chris said to him.

  Julian walked around the table to set up his next shot. The balls hit each other with a high-pitched clinking sound. The eight ball rolled across the table and fell into the pocket. The ball traveled through the mechanisms of the table and clanked against the others when it finally reached its destination. He tossed his stick to the pouting human he’d been playing against and collected the hundred dollars from the table. Quinn gave him a look of disdain when he shoved the money into his pocket.

  “Fleecing the humans?” she inquired.

  He grabbed a shot of whiskey from her tray and downed it in one swallow. The liquid burned its way down his throat, but he’d long since become accustomed to the way it tasted. “At least I have the money to pay for that drink now.” He tossed a ten onto her tray.

  “Jerk.”

  “You’ve only scratched the surface, love. I can promise you’ll be calling me a lot worse once you get to know me better.”

  He didn’t know what it was about her, but he enjoyed needling her, getting her face to flush, and her honeyed eyes to gleam with ire. He had the urge to tug on her ponytail, he sensed she might punch him if he did though. It was a pity too, as her shimmering chocolate hair was as enticing to him as her peanut butter cups were to her. His fingers itched to know if it was as soft to the touch as it appeared.

  “I already have,” she retorted and snatched the shot glass from his hand. Spinning away from him, he heard her mutter a string of curses while she walked away. Julian grinned as he handed his pool stick out to Zach. “Take this for me, Zachary.”

  �
��It’s just Zach,” the kid muttered.

  Zach brushed aside a wisp of his dark blond hair to reveal the tree of life tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. His brown eyes narrowed upon Julian. Julian pretended not to notice his glare as he smiled in return. The angles of Zach’s high cheekbones were prominent beneath his tanned skin, his pointed chin jutted out. He was slightly taller than Julian at about six-foot-three, but Julian had a good thirty pounds of muscle on Zach’s lean frame. The twenty-two year old Hunter had been beneath the pier on Imperial Beach in California. Zach had been using his surfboard to fend off the three vampires encircling him. He’d been holding up against the vamps, but it had only been a matter of time before their numbers tired him out and allowed them to take him over.

  “Sure,” Julian replied dismissively.

  He walked toward the doorway of the poolroom to survey the crowd gathered within the bar. The mix of the group was much the same as it had been last night. However, because it was Friday there were at least fifty more of them. Quinn stood behind the bar, pouring new drinks as the men all leaned closer to her. Even without the natural pull of her vampire allure, she was enticing. Especially with her hair pulled into a ponytail to emphasize her pert nose, striking eyes, and full lips.

  From here, he could see the scars marring her face. Some may have considered them a flaw in her pretty features, but he found they added to her appeal. Her scars were a sign that she’d been molded by her past but not broken by it. It would take him a while to get her to open up to him about it, but he would do it.

  “She’s not a bad person,” Chris said as he stepped beside him.

  “She’s not a person,” Julian reminded him.

  “No, but there’s nothing evil inside of her. She’s one of the few of you who didn’t go all wonky and become murderers after being turned.”

  “Wonky?” Julian inquired. “Is that the technical term for it?”