“This isn’t one of them. This serum’s permanent.”
“I don’t believe anything’s ever completely permanent.”
I went up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t kiss me back, either. I could taste him, I could feel him, I could touch him. But I couldn’t be with him—not really. It was so frustrating. Sometimes it was difficult not to remember how good it had been between us. It hurt to think it might never happen again.
For such a tough-looking man, one you might not want to run into in a dark alley, one who looked like he could kill someone with his bare hands—and Declan could—I literally ached for him. But it was an ache that would have to go untended. Like he said, he was like a robot right now—virtually emotionless and without the distraction of lust or desire. Too bad. They were very worthy distractions.
His gray eye held an edge of regret when I pulled back from him. “I’m sorry, Jill.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“It’s good that we’re here. I knew Jackson could find somebody to help us. Then you can go back to your normal life and forget all about this.” He pushed open the warehouse door and walked through to join Jackson on the other side.
His message was clear. I could forget about him.
Because Declan Reyes, dhampyr vampire hunter, one with scars deeper than just physical, a man I couldn’t make love to no matter how much I wanted to, thought he had no place in my regular human life.
The ache I already felt for him spread to my heart because I knew he was right.
TWO
“No guards?” I asked skeptically after entering the cavernous interior of the warehouse.
“Downstairs,” Jackson replied. “There are security cameras everywhere. Very few people know this place exists, and everyone who works here is screened and background-checked. The elevator only works for those who know the code.” He grinned. “Feel better?”
I scanned the seemingly empty space. “Not really.”
“Just chill. It’s fine. This place has been around for years. Follow me.”
Jackson led us to an elevator that, after he punched in a code that he shared with Declan so he’d know what it was, took us deep below ground.
Dr. Reynolds was waiting for us at the end of a long hallway in a large white room. He was fiftyish, with fine features and dark hair that was salt-and-pepper at the temples. Wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. With the white coat over his clothes and a stethoscope hanging around his neck, he looked like a family doctor who’d graduated top of his class. This helped ease my mind a little.
He’d given me a brief medical examination—eyes, mouth, ears all got a check. Heart rate. Blood pressure. He scribbled his findings down on a clipboard before he finally looked up at me. “I can help you, Jill.”
My heart leapt. It was exactly what I’d been waiting to hear. I wanted to pinch myself to prove this wasn’t just a dream.
“How can you help her?” Declan asked. He didn’t sound as relieved as I felt. Instead, he sounded wary, suspicious, and not the least bit friendly.
His query earned him a sharp look. “I believe I asked you to leave the room before I started my examination.”
“I’m not leaving Jill’s side.” Declan stood just out of reach, his arms crossed over his chest. I saw a glint of the silver stake he kept in a sheath on his belt under the edge of his black jacket. He didn’t look directly at me, despite his fierce and protective claim.
Jackson had left when he’d been asked to. Declan, however, had flatly refused, not budging a step when Dr. Reynolds made the original request. It was fine with me. More than fine. His presence helped to give me extra strength to face whatever the doctor had to say to me.
Dr. Reynolds’s jaw tightened as he glared at the stubborn vampire hunter. “Declan Reyes. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You’re a dhampyr.” It was said through clenched teeth.
Declan didn’t reply to that, which was confirmation enough.
“Declan’s with me,” I said, not liking the tension that had been steadily rising in the room. “Whatever you have to say to me, I’m fine with him hearing it, too.”
“Maybe I’m not fine with that.”
“Let me guess,” Declan said. “You have a problem with dhampyrs.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah.”
The doctor’s narrowed eyes flicked to me. “You know dhampyrs are extremely dangerous to humans, don’t you? Perhaps even more so than vampires.”
I’d heard this song and dance before. I held the gaze of the doctor, whose face had flushed with anger. “Declan’s different.”
“Have you seen the other kind of dhampyr?” he asked sharply.
“Yes.” A chill went down my spine. There were two types of dhampyrs, and Declan was the more human type. The other kind were referred to as monster dhampyrs because of their more monstrous appearance and appetites. They were as mindless as they were ravenous, like large, pale, humanoid piranha—sharp teeth, soulless black eyes, and an overwhelming need to feed.
The stuff of nightmares, actually. I had the sleepless nights to prove it.
I watched Dr. Reynolds, whose attention was now focused on Declan. There was something there that made me uncomfortable—a willingness to believe the worst. This is what Declan had been putting up with all of his life—people jumping to conclusions about what he was, based on half of his DNA.
I’d come face-to-face with several hungry vampires since I was first injected with Nightshade. I easily remembered what it felt like to be bit by one of them—the sharp pain as those razor-sharp teeth cut into my flesh. Just because every one of them who had tasted my blood had died a quick and fiery death didn’t make the thought of getting attacked any more pleasant.
“Declan’s with me,” I said. “And I trust him completely. If you have a problem with that, then we’re going to have to leave.”
After a few more moments, Dr. Reynolds’s unfriendly and tense expression faded and his brow furrowed. “I apologize for my unprofessional behavior.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then cleaned the glasses on his sleeve before putting them back on. “My wife, she—she was killed by a dhampyr. It’s colored my objectivity.”