tilted his chin down, the look in his eyes seductive, dark and dangerous.
He twisted his head toward the patio door, and she sensed the aura of a vampire outside, paralyzing her. Krustalus. Her skin chil ed and her nape crawled as if he wrapped his icy fingers around her neck.
Breaking free from the paralysis, she turned and stared out the window, but didn’t see any sign of the beast in the gloomy, mist-laden morning.
“Who is he?” Daemon asked.
“Krustalus,” she said with venom in her voice.
Daemon rested his hands on her shoulders, caressed them, sending a blanket of warmth through her, but she fought the sensual feelings, the heat, the strength, the al ure.
“Don’t, Daemon. Are you in league with the devil vampire?” If he were trying to placate her concerning Krustalus, it wouldn’t work. Yet on another level, she felt Daemon’s motives to soothe her were instinctual, protective. But she couldn’t take him touching her while the murderer was so close by.
Daemon withdrew his hands from her shoulders. “What has Krustalus done?” he asked, his tone edged with suspicion.
Turning her gaze from Daemon’s stern look, she glanced back out the window. “Nobody believes me.”
“I’m not just anybody.”
That was for sure. And she’d certainly never spoken to one of his kind about it. Her fingers itched for a weapon.
“Tezra?”
“He…he kil ed my parents and terrified my sister so that she has not spoken for ten years.” She wished she could strike the vampire down this instant. Staring into the mist, she vowed she wouldn’t al ow him to shake her up like he always did when he stole into her life.
She clenched her teeth and bit back the hopelessness that he would ever be brought to justice, that her sister would be freed from her silent prison. Tears threatened to spil , but she wil ed them back, not wanting to shed another drop, not while the menace lived. Rage burned in her soul, and if left to fester long enough, it would leave her bereft of feeling anything but hate until she died.
Silently she cursed Daemon for bringing up the painful subject, yet she assumed he only meant to help. The floodgates threatened to open, her head hammering with gusto as she tried to keep her emotions under control. Show the vampire your emotions, and you’ve lost the game, her teachers would warn her. Always control your feelings.
“No record of this crime exists, or I would have been made aware of it. Why hasn’t the SCU taken him down?” Daemon asked, his voice shadowed with annoyance and concern.
Tezra lost it. She whipped around, tears blurring her vision, her heart in her throat. “Because they don’t believe he did it, dammit. They don’t believe any vampire did it. But I know! I know , because I made him do it. Because I forced him.” She choked back a sob.
Daemon stared at her in disbelief. She stood so close to him her breasts nearly touched his chest. Her green eyes fil ed with tears. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, to hold her tight, but his heart warred with his mind to keep his distance. He tried to ignore the way her blood beckoned to him, the way she looked so damned vulnerable.
Taking a deep breath to break the spel the enchantress held over him, he said, “Talk to me, Tezra. Tel me what you know.”
“You’l be like al the rest who don’t believe me.” Pain reflected in her words, and he wanted to crush the life out of any who had caused her anguish.
“What happened?” He pul ed her toward the bed, and she balked.
“You are going to put some clothes on, aren’t you?”
Daemon lifted a brow. “You are sure you want this?”
She frowned, and he gave her a smal smile then let go of her hand. In a flash, he threw on a pair of black denims.
“Enough. Tel me what happened.” He lifted her onto the high bed, then sat next to her.
“Can he come inside?” She seemed fil ed with emotions, wavering between fear of the vampire and red-hot anger.
Her teachers
He twisted his head toward the patio door, and she sensed the aura of a vampire outside, paralyzing her. Krustalus. Her skin chil ed and her nape crawled as if he wrapped his icy fingers around her neck.
Breaking free from the paralysis, she turned and stared out the window, but didn’t see any sign of the beast in the gloomy, mist-laden morning.
“Who is he?” Daemon asked.
“Krustalus,” she said with venom in her voice.
Daemon rested his hands on her shoulders, caressed them, sending a blanket of warmth through her, but she fought the sensual feelings, the heat, the strength, the al ure.
“Don’t, Daemon. Are you in league with the devil vampire?” If he were trying to placate her concerning Krustalus, it wouldn’t work. Yet on another level, she felt Daemon’s motives to soothe her were instinctual, protective. But she couldn’t take him touching her while the murderer was so close by.
Daemon withdrew his hands from her shoulders. “What has Krustalus done?” he asked, his tone edged with suspicion.
Turning her gaze from Daemon’s stern look, she glanced back out the window. “Nobody believes me.”
“I’m not just anybody.”
That was for sure. And she’d certainly never spoken to one of his kind about it. Her fingers itched for a weapon.
“Tezra?”
“He…he kil ed my parents and terrified my sister so that she has not spoken for ten years.” She wished she could strike the vampire down this instant. Staring into the mist, she vowed she wouldn’t al ow him to shake her up like he always did when he stole into her life.
She clenched her teeth and bit back the hopelessness that he would ever be brought to justice, that her sister would be freed from her silent prison. Tears threatened to spil , but she wil ed them back, not wanting to shed another drop, not while the menace lived. Rage burned in her soul, and if left to fester long enough, it would leave her bereft of feeling anything but hate until she died.
Silently she cursed Daemon for bringing up the painful subject, yet she assumed he only meant to help. The floodgates threatened to open, her head hammering with gusto as she tried to keep her emotions under control. Show the vampire your emotions, and you’ve lost the game, her teachers would warn her. Always control your feelings.
“No record of this crime exists, or I would have been made aware of it. Why hasn’t the SCU taken him down?” Daemon asked, his voice shadowed with annoyance and concern.
Tezra lost it. She whipped around, tears blurring her vision, her heart in her throat. “Because they don’t believe he did it, dammit. They don’t believe any vampire did it. But I know! I know , because I made him do it. Because I forced him.” She choked back a sob.
Daemon stared at her in disbelief. She stood so close to him her breasts nearly touched his chest. Her green eyes fil ed with tears. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, to hold her tight, but his heart warred with his mind to keep his distance. He tried to ignore the way her blood beckoned to him, the way she looked so damned vulnerable.
Taking a deep breath to break the spel the enchantress held over him, he said, “Talk to me, Tezra. Tel me what you know.”
“You’l be like al the rest who don’t believe me.” Pain reflected in her words, and he wanted to crush the life out of any who had caused her anguish.
“What happened?” He pul ed her toward the bed, and she balked.
“You are going to put some clothes on, aren’t you?”
Daemon lifted a brow. “You are sure you want this?”
She frowned, and he gave her a smal smile then let go of her hand. In a flash, he threw on a pair of black denims.
“Enough. Tel me what happened.” He lifted her onto the high bed, then sat next to her.
“Can he come inside?” She seemed fil ed with emotions, wavering between fear of the vampire and red-hot anger.
Her teachers
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