Addicted. Lydia ParksЧитать онлайн книгу.
approached. “White wine, please.”
Jake turned to face her squarely, leaned close, and lowered his voice. “You must be the most gorgeous creature that has walked this earth in a hundred years. Your eyes hold the depths of the oceans, and your scent leaves me weak and wanting more.”
She stared at him, then blinked twice. “Wow. That was pretty good. A little over the top, maybe, but still not bad.”
“I meant every word of it, darlin’.”
The young woman narrowed her eyes. “I’m not your darlin’.”
He extended his hand. “Jake.”
She studied his hand for a moment, then took it. “Athena.”
Holding her hand in his, Jake laughed. “Of course, a goddess.”
She blushed, which only enhanced her beauty.
“I meant that as a compliment.” Jake raised her hand to his lips.
Her heart pounded now—he could hear nothing else. She was attracted to him, and knowing that made her all the more enticing.
Jake released her hand as the image of Iris rose in his thoughts again. Not the young, beautiful Iris, standing gloriously naked before him, offering him everything, but the cold, dead, Iris, lying on his bed, beyond his reach. He remembered the pain and sorrow that had overwhelmed him as he lay beside her body for days.
His hands began to shake with a fear he hadn’t felt in decades. It wasn’t the fear of another being or of a beast bent on destruction, but the fear of his own uncontrollable desires.
He stood quickly, pulled a twenty from his pocket and dropped it on the bar, then nodded to Athena. “Have a wonderful life, my dear.”
She watched him leave the bar; he felt her eyes on him as he grabbed his hat, yanked open the door, and hurried out into the courtyard.
Jake pulled on his hat as he marched past tables of partiers, raising glasses and laughing. He suddenly didn’t care what the hell they were saying. He didn’t care if every one of them was hunting him—let them come. He needed a good fight more than he needed to feed.
Past the archway, he turned right, walked quickly down the sidewalk to the Santa Fe River, and ducked into the shadows of giant cottonwoods. He stopped, leaned against the coarse bark of one, and tried to calm his racing thoughts.
The sounds of the city whispered around him. He heard music from all directions, some accompanied by words in Spanish. The river gurgled past on his left, and cars rushed by on his right. Two homeless men, sitting on the bank of the river, argued over a bottle of wine.
In an alley across Alameda, a young man leaned against a wall with one hand, holding a younger woman around the waist and fucking her from behind. Jake focused his attention on the couple, who were trying to keep their activity a secret from tourists walking past but not completely succeeding. The man grunted as he peaked, and the woman whimpered, then both quieted. He withdrew quickly, and she straightened her short skirt as he zipped his pants.
“Good shit, baby,” the man whispered.
Jake huffed a laugh. So much for romance.
But the distraction had calmed him, and he felt control returning. He filled his lungs with cool air and looked up into the darkened sky. A slice of moon shone between branches, and a dozen stars twinkled through the lights of town.
He allowed himself to think about the young woman in the bar now that he could do so rationally. What was it about Athena that reminded him of Iris? It wasn’t her looks. Iris had been dark where Athena was light, and slender where Athena was sturdy. Certainly Iris’s body hadn’t been pierced, and she hadn’t shown so much of it in public. Jake smiled at the thought. In 1880 when he met Iris, she’d been covered from head to toe.
But Iris’s scent had been magical, too, just as Athena’s was. He’d fallen for her instantly, and decided at once to take her as his mate—his wife.
He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
Better to walk through eternity alone than suffer such pain.
Determined to enjoy the pleasant evening, Jake pushed off from the tree and strolled through the park. He turned up Galisteo and slowed his pace as he wound through packs of tourists. At the plaza, crowds grew and gathered around a local mariachi band. Some of the tourists clapped in time with the music, and others tried to sing. Jake winced at the unwelcome level of noise and hurried past.
The crowds thinned out as he made his way down narrow back streets until he found the doorway he wanted—non-descript, wooden, decorated with wrought iron, it opened to a staircase leading down. At the bottom of the stairs, Jake knocked twice on the interior door, waited, knocked once, and then twice again.
The door opened to a room painted black, already filled with the usual Tunnel patrons. These were not the same people who hung out in Cowgirl’s, or Maria’s, or any of the local bars. Those in the Tunnel were vampires, wannabe vampires, and soon-to-be victims of vampires. The latter two categories were often the same.
Jake tossed his hat onto a hook as he approached a familiar face at the bar. Antonio, who had worked at the Tunnel for at least thirty years, was tall and pale with shoulder-length black hair and black eyes. His father had been Apache, and his mother a beautiful flamenco dancer, according to him.
“House special?” Antonio asked.
Jake nodded and leaned against the bar. “How’s it going?”
The bartender shrugged. “Same as always.” He placed a chilled glass in front of Jake.
The house special resembled wine, but was, in fact, mostly Type O. The donated vintage had none of the pleasant effects of the embodied variety, but it took the edge off. Jake swigged it down.
Antonio waited on several more patrons, then returned to lean on the bar near Jake. They watched inebriated men and women dancing with vampire partners, and young people dressed in black fondling each other on the dance floor.
“Did you make the meeting?” Antonio asked.
“Yep. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh? And I thought it was for the classy company.”
Jake chuckled. “What do you know about vampire hunters?”
Antonio turned his head to frown at Jake. “I don’t understand. Vampire hunters have been around…well, forever, I guess.”
“The council’s concerned about the new craze stirred up by the movie Van Helsing.”
“Oh. Yes, I guess there is more activity than usual. Did you hear about Shadow?”
Jake nodded. “And they got Billy Sears, too.”
Antonio shook his head. “I hadn’t heard about Billy. Too bad. He was a nice old guy.”
Jake shot him a glare. “He wasn’t that old.”
“Getting touchy, huh?” Antonio grinned.
“Go to hell,” Jake muttered, returning his attention to the dance floor.
“I’m sure I will.”
“Yeah.”
Music stopped and some couples walked to tables. Others waited for the next song to start.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll find hunters in here,” Antonio said.
“Why not? This is exactly where I’d expect to find them. A smart hunter knows where the prey hide.”
Antonio snorted. “Who said anything about these guys being smart?”
Jake found himself hoping there were at least a few smart hunters out there. How could he fight a good battle without a worthy opponent?
“Sweet Billy and Shadow weren’t