“It’ll hurt,” Sam said simply. “Maybe not as much as your attitude hurt Imani and Butch, but it’ll be close.”
Oh, she was totally ruthless.
She waved an impatient hand at Denny. “Well, go on.”
Looking like he’d rather do anything other than that, Denny bent his knees and leapt—it was a seriously impressive move. And it made him crash hard into the shield. He landed with a grunt.
Imani looked down at him, her expression aloof. “Hmm, it worked.”
“My shield will need to be a lot higher and wider than that to stop a flying drove of dragons,” I pointed out.
“It will,” Sam agreed. “We’ll have to do some training in the rainforest where you’ll have more space. It’s not going to be something that happens instantly. It’ll take work, just like my attempts to expand a dome-like shield will take a lot of practice.”
Max spoke, “If it doesn’t work?”
Sam’s face hardened with resolve. “It has to work.”
“Quick question,” Ava interjected. “If you’re expending a lot of your energy into keeping the shield in place, does that mean you can’t use your gift in other ways?”
Sam sighed. “It does. But if I concentrate hard enough, I can form energy balls while I’m inside my shield. It’s hard and it takes a lot of concentration, but it can be done. The trouble is, low level energy balls won’t do much against a drove of dragons.”
“Our number one goal is to bring the dragons to the ground,” said Jared. “Then Sam can afford to drop the shield and direct her energy elsewhere. But you’ve been trained to fight without us. You’ve been trained not to rely on us as back-up or as leaders. There’ll be a hell of a lot of vampires inside that dome—pretty much the entire legion. The dragons will see that fast enough, and they’ll try to flee. We need to keep them contained, which is why Sam’s shield is vital. I’ll cover her while she keeps it in place. The rest of you will surround us.”
“You won’t be able to pair up in the same way that you usually do,” Sam told us. “Some of you have gifts that will make the dragons drop to the ground. The rest of you will be relied on to kill all those that fall. Salem, David, Max, Denny, Harvey, and Cassie will tackle those in the air. Everyone else here will need to concentrate on the fallen. That won’t be an easy task, considering the sods can kill you just by breathing in your general direction. You all need to be at your sharpest, fastest, and canniest.”
“Which is why your training sessions will focus on making sure that you will be,” added Jared. “So let’s begin.”
No one’s attitude toward me or Imani softened but, to the credit of both squads, they were totally professional throughout the session. But the moment it was over, the guys went back to scowling at me. Also, the girls went back to ignoring Imani—except for Ava, who shot her a small smile. I had the feeling that she wasn’t upset with Imani, but she was worried that Imani had put herself in a situation where I could hurt her.
Just as Imani and I were about to exit the arena, Sam called us over. She waited until the rest of the squads had left before she spoke. “You two all right?”
Imani shrugged. “Been better. Also been worse.”
“Let’s have a little chat. No need to go on the defence,” she quickly assured me when I stiffened. “I’m not about to pass judgement or give you crap.”
I raised a brow. “Even though it’s caused tension in the ranks?”
It was Jared who responded. “I don’t think their reaction would have been so bad if they weren’t worrying so much about the dragon shifter situation. There’s also our blogger, who’s still posting articles and remaining out of reach. Everyone’s feeling helpless.”
Sam nodded. “Hearing about you two was just the cherry on the icing of the messed up cake.”
“Still no luck finding the blogger?” Imani asked her.
Sam released a frustrated sigh. “No. His gift is still protecting him well. Right now, I’m more worried about your vision and whether the dragons you saw were mercenaries. If not, we’ve done something to piss off a dragon drove enough that they want The Hollow’s vampires destroyed.”
“If Marco doesn’t come through for us,” said Jared, “we might not find the answer to that question in time to prevent the attack. If that happens, all we can do is prepare for war.”
Later that night, as Imani and I lay on the sofa watching a movie, her phone beeped. I paused the movie as she grabbed her cell from the table and read the message. Disappointment flashed across her face.
I tensed. “What’s wrong?”
Sprawled over my chest, she said, “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just Fletcher, sharing a dirty joke.”
She’d hoped it would be Paige, I realised. “She’ll come round.” Imani’s smile wasn’t fooling me. She was hurting, and it pissed me off. Paige hadn’t answered any of Imani’s calls or replied to any of her texts.
It hadn’t occurred to me that the girls would be so harsh on Imani. I’d known they wouldn’t approve of the relationship, and so I’d expected them to attempt to talk Imani into ending it, but… “I would never have thought they would freeze you out like this.”
“They’ve jumped to the conclusion that you and I have been an item for a while and I kept it from them.”
I threaded my fingers through her hair. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t excuse what they’re doing. They’re making this about them, and it’s not.”
“You don’t get it because guys don’t really confide in each other much. But women are different. We talk and share secrets and give advice. They—most especially Paige—trusted me with their shit and so they’re upset that I haven’t done the same.”
It was more than that. “They’re making a statement that they don’t like us being together.”
“That too.” She sighed. “They worry about me, that’s all.”
It didn’t mean it was cool for them to take that worry out on her. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, baby.” I kissed her softly. “Want to finish watching the movie or are you as bored by it as I am?”
“It is a little dull.” Propping her chin on my chest, she said, “Tell me about your nest. I know you don’t like questions, but you said you’d be open with me.”
And I’d meant it. Besides, a change of subject might be good for her. “My nest was pretty small.”
“Was?”
“There aren’t many left. We all lived in one apartment building. I was a sentinel for my Sire. His mate was tough like Sam, only she was sane.”
Imani snorted a laugh.
“All three of us went to a Binding event for a week. My Sire’s first-born, Tad, was left in charge. While we were gone, he got into some kind of argument with another vampire in a club. They duelled. Tad lost, but his opponent didn’t kill him; he wanted Tad to live with the shame of losing in front of the entire club.”
“Harsh on the ego.”
“Yes. Tad’s weakness was his ego.” Slipping my hand inside her shirt, I smoothed it up and down her back. “Tad couldn’t let it go. He went back to the club, and my nest all went along. Only this time, they went after the guy’s mate. By killing her, Tad killed him. The guy’s nest retaliated and wiped out everyone in our building.”
She bit her lower lip. “I know this is an insensitive thing to say, but Tad should have known he’d never get away with that. He should have been smart.”
“You’re right, but he wasn’t. We came back to a burned-down building.” My Sire had been devastated. “They deserved it. There was no arguing with that.” If anyone went after Imani to get to me, I’d make sure she was avenged somehow—even if I wasn’t strong enough to do the avenging myself. Depending on how old and powerful the vampire was, it usually took a few nights for them to die after their mate was killed.
“I have another question. How did you become a vampire?”
“It’s a common story. I was dying on a battlefield, and someone came along and gave me a choice to live as a v
ampire or die as a human. To be honest, I thought he was full of shit.” Vampires looking to create a nest often went to battlefields, where they were most likely to find willing humans. It was amazing what choices people would make when they thought they faced death.
“You were in the army?”
“Yes.” And I’d enjoyed it. The discipline, the neatness, the action—all of it had spoken to me on some level.
“How old were you when you were Turned?”
“Guess.”
Tilting her head, she studied every line and curve of my face. “Thirty?”
“Close. Thirty-five.”
“Tell me about your human life.”
My mouth curved. “Very curious tonight, aren’t you?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You never really told me anything about yourself.”
“But if I answer all your questions at one time, you might lose interest,” I said with a smile.
She slapped my chest. “No, I won’t. Tell me.”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“Where were you born?”
“Miami, Florida.”
“Human and vampire years together, how old are you?”
I hesitated to answer, wondering if it would bother her. “Seventy-seven.”
She winced, but it was fake and her smile was teasing. “You’re way too old for me.”
“Since you were Turned when you were twenty-five and you’ve only been a vampire for sixteen years now, you could be right.”
Her mouth fell open. “How do you know that?”
“I told you the other night, I know plenty about you.”
“Hmm. It would seem you weren’t kidding. I think it’s only fair, then, that I know more about you. Any siblings?” At my hesitation to answer, she smiled. “It’s not a complicated question.”
I gently tapped her lip. “It is when you don’t know much about your biological family. I was found on the doorstep of a church when I was a baby. But I didn’t have a bad life,” I quickly added when her face scrunched up in outrage. “My adoptive parents were good people.”
Her expression softened a little. “How do you feel about being adopted?”
It was a question I’d been asked many times. “I’ve never known any different. It was my life; the only life I knew. I was adopted as a baby, so I didn’t have to go through the adjustment period that older kids have to deal with.”
“You found out about it when you were young?”
“My parents never hid it from me. A therapist told them to tell me I was adopted once a year, each year until I was nine. Then it would be something that stuck with me; something I grew up knowing.” I was glad of that, because I never felt like I’d been lied to.
“Was it an awkward subject at your house?”
“No, my parents talked freely about it. They always answered any questions I had. My mom, Annette, said that it’s okay if I was upset that I didn’t have my biological family in my life; that she suspected it was the sense of loss an adult might feel for a biological child they just can’t have. It’s a kind of grief, but it doesn’t mean my life is any less good. They even thought I should feel proud of being adopted, because it meant I was chosen.”
“Did you always know you were left on a church doorstep?”
I nodded. “They tried softening the blow by making out like being left at a special place made me special.” But that wasn’t the case at all. “They didn’t want to lie to me.”
“Do you think it was better that way?”
“Yeah. It helped me to accept it.”
“It can’t have been easy to accept.”
“It bothered me most when I was younger. I didn’t look like my parents; it was a small thing, but I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like not knowing about my family’s medical history.” I sighed. “I’d sometimes ask myself who I would have been if my birth mother kept me.”
She petted my chest. “Do you know anything about your biological parents?”
I clenched my hand in her hair. “My biological mother came looking for me once. I was thirteen. She just turned up one day, out of the fucking blue. She saw my picture in the paper with my adoptive parents at some kind of art gallery opening; said she knew it was me because I looked just like my father, but I had her eyes.”
“And?”
“And I told her to go away.” I’d rejected her the way she rejected me. “My parents saw that as loyalty to them. Honestly, I was just angry. Know why? Her first words were, ‘I’m your mom. Your real mom.’ And that just pissed me off. Annette was my mom. This woman gave birth to me, sure. But then she left me. She chose to do that. She dumped me on a church doorstep, knowing I could end up anywhere. She didn’t go through an adoption process, she didn’t hand me over to social services…she just dumped me.”
Imani’s hands balled up into little fists. Fury glimmered in her eyes. “She shouldn’t have just turned up like that. You were only thirteen. For all she knew, you didn’t even know you were adopted. It was insensitive and selfish.”
I soothingly massaged Imani’s head. “She seemed surprised that I didn’t want to talk to her. People seem to automatically assume you want to meet your biological parents. I didn’t. I wondered about them— wondered what they looked like, what they did, if they were poor or rich, if my father even knew I existed at all, if my mother ever thought about me and if she was ashamed of me—but I was content with the family I had. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so rejected if she had given me up in a different way. Still, maybe I should have heard her out.”
Imani’s expression was gentle. “You were a teenager and in shock.”
“She probably just wanted money anyway.” But I’d never know.
“It’s okay that you were angry with her. Hell, I’m angry with her.”
Her protectiveness made me smile. “I had a good family, Imani. They were good people. They always supported me. They loved me in their way. They were encouraging and gave me the best of everything. Being adopted doesn’t define me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean they loved you ‘in their way’?”
“They weren’t family orientated. Their relationship was more like a business partnership. They liked to socialise, entertain, and hold dinner parties. Even Christmas was like a gathering that’s only purpose was to do some social networking. They were good people,” I reiterated, “just not family people. Tell me about your family.”
Her smile was wan. “Oh, I was a big disappointment to them.”
I frowned, growling, “Disappointment?”
“My family are very ambitious, academic people—which is great, good for them. And I’m proud of all their achievements. They work hard and they deserve what they have. But I’ve just never been like them. I liked learning new things, but I wasn’t academic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I used to get so bored in school because I liked to learn through doing things, not by copying things from chalkboards and textbooks. My parents and teachers thought I had a poor concentration span. It wasn’t that. I was just utterly bored.”
“I can imagine.” And I knew her well enough to know… “You used to fall asleep in class, didn’t you?” Imani could sleep anywhere.
Her smile widened just a little. “Once or twice.”
I had a feeling that was a massive understatement. “So your parents were disappointed because you weren’t like them?”
“Yes. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor. I had no interest in being either one of those things. I don’t think it’s wrong if someone isn’t ambitious or doesn’t have a ‘calling’ or whatever. But they didn’t agree.”
“They didn’t understand you.”
“No, they didn’t. They didn’t get that I was happy just going with the flow and enjoying the present moment. I didn’t think too much on the future. Didn’t want to make grand plans. I just wanted to be…me, I guess. But I wasn’t enough for them.”
I kissed her. “Then they’re assholes and you never needed them.”
She yawned, pretty much melting on top of me. I wasn’t surprised. It had been an eventful, long-ass night and she’d not long recovered from a bout of induced exhaustion.
I lightly tapped her ass. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
“I’m not tired,” she insisted as I carried her inside.
“Bullshit, baby.” In the bedroom, I stripped us both and spooned her. “Sleep.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll have all kinds of fun.”
She snickered. After another yawn, she whispered, “Thanks for sharing tonight.”
I kissed her hair. “Right back at you.”
Seconds later, she was asleep, which was pretty typical for Imani. For a while, I just lay there, listening to her breathe and inhaling her scent—so fucking thankful that she was finally all mine, and determined that nothing would change that.
CHAPTER NINE
(Imani)
Sitting at the breakfast bar, I watched Butch putter about the kitchen as he prepared breakfast. We hadn’t spent a day or night apart since we made our relationship public three nights ago. Yet, I didn’t feel smothered. I liked having him around so much. Liked it when we’d settle on the sofa while he watched the game and I read my Kindle. Liked it when he made us dinner—yep, the guy could cook seriously well—or we watched re-runs of American Horror Story and The Walking Dead.
I also liked it when he made me come so hard I almost passed out.
He didn’t invade my space, he fit into it. I did worry that he might miss having his own space. But he seemed content enough with the way things were.
If it wasn’t for the dragon situation and the fact that the girls still weren’t talking to me, all would be perfect in my world. Ava had paid me a visit, wanting us to speak in private. Butch, however, had refused to leave the room since he didn’t trust her not to upset me. I hadn’t insisted on him leaving because I figured if Ava was going to insult him, he had every right to be there.