I’d nearly surrendered to the vampire blood a few times. It was the memory of Danni that kept me sane. Her strength. Her voice. Scent. God, it was everything about her.
I’d been running from the Scars, from Waleron—my Taldeburu—from Danni. Shit, from everything I’d ever known.
And my own kind were not easy to hide from since every Scar had one of nature’s gifts from the five distinct senses. I’d only managed to avoid capture because I was a Tracker. I could scent another Scar miles away, which always gave me a head start. I also excelled at covering my tracks and hiding my scent.
I’d managed to avoid them by constantly moving, keeping to areas that were concrete and laden with humans. And never did I stay in one place longer than two days.
Now I’d fucked up everything by seeing her. Keir and Jedrik knew I was back, and that meant Waleron would be notified. It wouldn’t be long before they found me.
I deserved death for my betrayal. But this was my chance to prove to the Deaconry that Scars could fight off the vampire blood after consuming it. Death wasn’t the only choice for us.
Admitting I’d returned for more than that was a harsh reality to face. My return to Toronto was for Danni. I knew from the day I had to leave her that it would be impossible to stay away. Even if it were from a distance, I had to make certain she was protected from the reality of the world she walked in.
I’d hoped when I returned to Toronto, I’d see the fight in Danni’s eyes. The same fight I’d witnessed that first day I met her in hell. But what I saw ripped my insides to pieces. The paintings of me . . . I’d fucked up my hand from punching the brick wall the first time I saw the one above her bed.
Revealing the Scars to her would seal my fate—instant death. No human could have knowledge of the immortal Scars unless Waleron approved. That was unlikely, considering Waleron was the most unfeeling bastard I’d ever met.
I glanced up at the second floor and the bathroom light turned on. I caught a glimpse of her walk past the window in her silk red pajamas.
I ran my hand through my hair and kicked out at the dumpster, the sound vibrating in the alley. “Fuck.”
“COME ON ASSHOLE, JUST shoot the ball.” I rolled my eyes as Jedrik deliberated his next shot, his stance casual as he leaned on his pool cue.
He raised his brows and looked up at me. “Sweet cakes, keep that forked tongue inside that luscious mouth of yours. I need to concentrate.” He grinned then raised his cue parallel to the green felt table. “This is an art.”
“Ha. If this were art, I’d be kicking your ass.” I leaned my hip against the side of the table, pool cue in one hand, the other holding a pint of beer.
Jedrik chuckled, took aim, and shot the white ball. It slammed into the red solid, which banked off the right and then sank into the side pocket. He grinned, eyes triumphant. “Friggin’ brilliant, as usual.” He puffed his chest out like a proud lion after taking down his prey.
I laughed. The guy seriously needed to be ‘taken down’ a few pegs. Unfortunately, it was our third game and soon to be his third win. I hated losing and thought I could kick his butt since I was pretty good at pool. But Jedrik was better, a helluva lot better, and I was beginning to wonder if he was bad at anything.
“I can’t paint worth a damn.” Jedrik rubbed chalk on the tip of his cue.
“Excuse me?” My hand tightened on my glass. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
Jedrik shrugged. “See it in your expression, sweetness. A woman’s face is like reading a book. Can see everything written right before my magnificent eyes.”
I huffed. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t dawdle, Mr. Smarty-pants. Try to sink that green ball so I can have a turn. I need to pee.”
Jedrik wiggled his brows then leaned over the table and made a tough double-bank shot effortlessly. He straightened, blew on the tip of his cue then winked at me.
I snorted.
Despite losing, I was glad I’d come out tonight. Jedrik was easy to get along with once past the initial overconfident charm. I’d noticed women glancing at him all night and he returned their ogling with a charismatic grin. There was no question he had a way with women, but I suspected it was for show. Not the confidence—no, he had that in spades—but there was a hint of loneliness in him. It was as if he had to prove he was good enough. Not sure for who or what though.
“I’m going to the ladies room,” I said. “And no cheating.”
“No need to cheat, princess.”
I set my beer on the bar table and my pool cue beside it before heading for the bathroom.
The pub was crowded, being Tuesday and wing night. Hockey played on the big screen televisions, and men hooted and hollered between chugging back their pints of beer.
I wore a forest green, long sleeved shirt, jeans, and my hair pulled back in a clip, messy and casual with a few strands escaping. I hated being around so many strangers. With my abductor still free, I was constantly tense; worried he was coming back to finish what he started. But with Jedrik, it felt . . . safer.
I tried to ignore the leering eyes as I weaved my way through the bar. My mind spun with images of the man from my dreams. I hadn’t slept right in three days, since he’d shown up at my gallery. I was a mess of mixed emotions, but mostly, I was angry at his callousness for walking away. But meshed with the anger came emptiness. What sucked even more was every time I went into the back alley behind my place, I swore I smelled his scent.