Bittersweet Blood (The Order) Read online

  Yesterday, someone had left him a very cryptic message, suggesting he should meet her. He’d been undecided. Then earlier this evening, Piers had called and told him there’d been a demon sighting close to his building. Hunting demons wasn’t Christian’s job anymore, but he’d gone as a favor. He’d tracked the demon to the alley opposite and then been totally distracted by a delectable blonde who’d crashed into him and sent his senses reeling.

  She’d had the same effect when she walked into his office. For the first time in what seemed like an age, his hunger had risen. Even now, his gums ached with the need to feed. If it hadn’t been for Piers’s imminent arrival, he’d have gone hunting tonight with little Tara Collins as his prey.

  But Piers was on his way. First the phone call, now a personal visit. Piers was head of the Order of the Shadow Accords, the organization that policed the supernatural world, and whatever he wanted, it was unlikely to be good news. Still, Christian couldn’t deny the twinge of excitement that twisted his guts. He’d made the right decision to leave the Order, but he missed the exhilaration of the chase, the thrill of the kill.

  Graham stuck his head around. He had a slightly frazzled look in his eyes, no doubt from the unexpected visitor; Piers tended to have that effect on humans, even ones like Graham, who had spent time around their kind and knew what they were.

  “He’s here,” Graham said.

  “Send him in.”

  “Another thing—Piers saw your new client in reception, and I’m guessing he liked what he saw.”

  “Shit.” He’d have to warn Piers off, which was bound to pique his interest.

  What was so alluring about Tara Collins?

  Piers was dressed in his usual gear, black leather pants and a long black leather coat. Tall, around Christian’s six-foot-four, he was lean and hard, and beneath the coat, he’d be armed with enough firepower to take down an army of demons. He looked exactly what he was—a killer.

  He grasped Christian in a huge bear hug, and clapped him on the shoulders. Then his hands fell away, and he stepped back.

  “Christian, you look like shit.” A slow grin spread across his face. “In fact, it’s worse than shit—you look like a businessman.”

  “I am a businessman.”

  “A boring businessman.”

  Christian didn’t bother to deny it.

  “You also look hungry.”

  “I haven’t fed in a few days.”

  “Days?”

  “Weeks then.” Christian shrugged. “It’s not a problem.”

  “Talking of eating, I ran into someone coming out of the elevator. Young, blond.”

  “Leave her alone.”

  “She smelled delicious.”

  “She’s a client. I don’t want you eating my clients. Now, what brings you here?”

  Piers shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered across to the windows to stare out at the lights of the city. He appeared outwardly calm but Christian knew him too well. Something was bothering him and Christian had to curb his impatience as he waited.

  Piers turned back to face him. “I want you to come back.”

  It wasn’t anything he’d expected and he frowned. “Not going to happen. I left the Order twenty years ago—for good.”

  “Come on, Christian, you know it’s not that simple.”

  “Can’t you cope? You want me to come back and take over?”

  “Hell, no,” Piers said. “I like being the boss. We’ll take you on as a consultant.” His eyes drifted down over Christian. “You look like a consultant. Besides, don’t you miss it?” Piers moved behind the desk, sat in the huge leather chair, and spun. “This is fun, but it hardly compares to hunting demons.” He came to a halt facing Christian. “How can you live like this?”

  “Easy.”

  Piers considered him for a moment, head to one side, weighing his next move. “Gabriel’s dead.”

  Impossible.

  Shock ripped through Christian. And following close on his disbelief came a wave of regret. The emotion was unexpected, and he turned away to give himself time to think.

  Gabriel was the youngest of the Order’s agents, but he’d still been strong. He should have been stronger than anything he came up against.

  “We need you back, Christian.”

  “Tell me what happened to Gabriel.”

  “We don’t know what happened to him. He went out on a call last Friday night—a typical minor demon sighting—and vanished. He never called in. Nothing.”

  “So how do you know he’s dead?”

  “What else could it be? We haven’t heard from him in five days. Besides, Ella confirmed it. You know she’s never been wrong.”

  A ripple of distaste ran through him at the mention of the Order’s tame witch. Ella had long ago given herself over to the dark practices, but she was powerful, so the Order protected her.

  “She also believes something big is coming,” Piers said.

  “Another war?”

  “She couldn’t say. But there’s more. It was Ella who told us to come to you.”

  Christian’s eyes narrowed as he processed that piece of information. Not good news. “Why?”

  “Again, she couldn’t say, just that you had an important part to play.”

  “Couldn’t say, or wouldn’t? Does she know more?”

  “I don’t think so, but you know Ella—she has her own agendas.”

  “You were fools to keep her on. I told you that when you took over. You should have eliminated her after the last time.”

  “She’s useful.”

  “She’s evil.”

  Piers smiled. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  Christian pursed his lips. It was an ongoing argument between them. “Do you really believe we’re evil?”

  “Good, evil, who knows? By most peoples’ standards we are. So, are you coming back? Will you help?”

  “I need to think about it.”

  But it was a lie—he didn’t need to think. Excitement unfurled deep inside him, rising to the surface and mingling with the hunger that already stirred in his blood. He knew he’d go back.

  Piers grinned. “You’ll be back. Just don’t take too long.” He got up, nodded, and left the room.

  Christian sank into the chair behind his desk and rested his head on the back of the seat, staring into space. So few emotions touched him now, but he recognized sadness. Gabriel had been one of his, the last of his offspring.

  Christian had left The Order after the last demon war, sickened by the carnage, but also aware of the darkness rising within himself, of the part of him that reveled in the slaughter, that loved to slake his hunger with demon blood.

  So he’d stepped down, pursued a different life, a life among humans.

  Now Gabriel was dead, and Christian would have his revenge. He’d hunt down whatever had taken Gabe, kill them, and drain their blood. It was a long time since he’d feasted on immortal blood. Humans were fine, but nothing beat the blood of a demon.

  His hunger rose. The office suddenly seemed like a cage. He needed to get out into the night.

  Graham glanced up as he entered the outer office. “You have a finance meeting in half an hour,” he said as Christian paused by the desk.

  “Cancel it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Christian smiled, with a small flash of fang. “I’m going hunting.”

  Chapter Two

  Rule Number Two: Never drink alcohol.

  So what was next?

  Tara touched the chain she always wore around her neck, rubbing her fingers over the familiar heart-shaped crystal. Perhaps she wasn’t ready for Rule Number Three yet, but she was meeting Jamie and Chloe at a bar, and planned to have a damned good go at Number Two.

  The bar was a trendy place done up like an old-fashioned pub, with wood paneling and horse brasses hanging on the walls. It was popular with the after-work crowd and the steady hum of voices met her as she pushed open the door. It took her
a moment to locate her friends in the dim light. They were arguing about something but shut up as she approached. They both smiled brightly.

  Tara frowned. “Everything okay?”

  “Great,” Chloe said. “And I love your hair.”

  “You really think it’s all right?” Tara ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. She’d gone out that morning with it down to her waist. Now it was cut off blunt, level with her shoulders.

  “It’s gorgeous. That long fringe is very sexy, makes your eyes look enormous.”

  Chloe and Jamie were new friends; Tara didn’t have any old ones. She had literally bumped into Jamie on her first day in the city. Nothing in her life had prepared her for London, and Jamie had helped her from the start. After six months, it was as if she’d known him all her life.

  Chloe lived in the apartment below Tara.

  “Jamie was just telling me that I’m a bad influence,” Chloe said. “That you’re a nice girl, and I shouldn’t try to change that.”

  Tara took off her coat and perched herself on the red leather stool opposite. “I don’t want to be a nice girl.”

  “Hah!” Chloe grinned. “I told you so.”

  Jamie frowned at her. “She doesn’t know what she wants. She’s obviously still in shock from her aunt’s death.” He stood up. “I’ll go get you a drink. You want a coke?”

  “No. I’ll have a…” She didn’t know what to have. Chloe was drinking a pint of something dark and not particularly appetizing.

  “Guinness,” Chloe supplied.

  “You do not want to drink Guinness,” Jamie said.

  “I’m determined to break Rule Number Two tonight. So accept that, or sit down, and I’ll get my own drink.”

  “Rule Number Two?” Chloe asked.

  “My aunt had all these stupid rules. Rule Number Two was never drink alcohol.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened. “You mean you’ve never had a drink? Not ever?”

  Tara shook her head.

  Chloe regarded Tara curiously. “Your aunt sounds like she was crazy. Why did you stay so long?”

  “I’d planned to go to college when I was eighteen. But Aunt Kathy got ill, and I couldn’t leave her. I was all she had and, rules or not, I loved her.”

  Still, it had given Tara insight on how love could be used against someone, and she never wanted anyone to have that sort of power over her again. An unexpected vision of Christian Roth flashed through her mind, and a wave of heat washed over her.

  “What are you thinking?” Chloe asked. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

  “Nothing. You know, I think I’ll have a glass of white wine.”

  Jamie didn’t appear happy about it, but he went off to the bar without any more argument.

  “It’s quite sweet really,” Chloe said. “Jamie and you, I mean. It’s like he wants to look after you.”

  “I don’t need looking after.”

  Chloe patted her arm. “Of course you don’t, sweetie. How did it go with the private investigator?”

  “I never got to see Mr. Grant.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “He couldn’t make it. I saw Christian Roth instead. He’s the owner of the company.”

  Chloe gaped at her. “You saw Christian Roth?”

  Tara nodded. “Do you know him?”

  “No one knows him. At least, if they do, they don’t talk about it. He’s like this totally mega-rich recluse. Absolutely gorgeous, or so the rumors go. There’s always stuff in the papers about him but never photographs. I can’t believe you got to see him. What was he like?”

  “He was very nice.”

  “Very nice?” Chloe said, her voice rising in disbelief. “I can’t believe anyone would actually get to see Christian Roth and have the nerve to say he was ‘very nice.’ Come on, spill the beans, tell all.”

  “Tell all what?” Jamie placed a very small glass of wine in front of Tara, and another pint of Guinness for Chloe.

  “Tara had a meeting with Christian Roth.”

  “Really? That’s…interesting.”

  “Interesting?” Chloe shook her head. “It’s not interesting. It’s amazing.”

  Tara inspected her drink. She thought about taking a sip but decided to put it off a little longer. After all, breaking Rule Number Two was a momentous occasion, and she was determined to treat it as such. Instead, she considered what to say to Chloe.

  “Christian Roth was…” She paused, unsure how to express what she’d felt about it, yet equally unsure she wanted to put it into words. “The rumors were wrong. He isn’t gorgeous, at least not in any normal way, but there was something about him. It’s more than looks, there’s this sort of aura.”

  Chloe sighed. “That, my friend, is pure power. He runs that company single-handedly, and it’s huge. The Investigations side is only a tiny part. And yet, he took an appointment with you. It’s unbelievable, and not a little strange.” She considered Tara for a moment. “Maybe he caught a glimpse of you coming into the building and liked what he saw. Did he make a pass?”

  “No, he didn’t!” But Tara remembered the hot look in his eyes as he held her hand, the energy that had leapt between them at his touch.

  “So is he going to take the job?” Jamie asked.

  Tara nodded. “I left some papers with him. I’m going back in a couple of days. He reckons there will be some sort of logical explanation for what my aunt did.”

  “Oh come on, Tara,” Chloe said. “Logical? What sort of person keeps their kid in total isolation? And uses moral blackmail to make them stay.”

  “She was ill,” Tara said gently.

  Chloe ignored the interruption. “I bet he finds out that she lost her own baby or something and decided to grab another one.”

  “I suppose it’s possible.” But something told Tara the solution wasn’t that simple.

  Chloe continued, “Why don’t you do a search on old kidnapping cases and find out if any babies went missing around that time?”

  “It can’t do any harm,” Jamie added. “You might even be able to do it on the Internet.”

  Tara felt her interest rise. At least it was something she could do herself instead of sitting around waiting. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Now, to breaking that rule.”

  The wine was pale golden. She raised the glass to her nose and breathed in the light, fruity fragrance. Glancing up, she found Jamie watching her intently. She held his eyes as she brought the glass to her mouth and took a sip. The wine was cool, not sweet but tart, and refreshing. She swallowed, felt the liquid slide down her throat. She smiled at Jamie. “See? Absolutely no—”

  She stopped mid-sentence and frowned. There was a sharp, bitter aftertaste that burned in her throat. She was about to comment on it when something went pop inside her head. Flames flickered in her belly and a wave of wild exhilaration washed over her. Alcohol was even better than she’d expected. She wanted to get up, run, scream, rip something to pieces, preferably with her teeth. And she was hungry, ravenously hungry. She wanted meat.

  Which was weird because she was a vegetarian.

  Still, she needed to get up. She put her hands on the table and pushed. Nothing happened. She seemed to have no strength in her arms. She stared at Jamie and Chloe, who watched from across the table, eyes wide with shock.

  “Tara, what is it?”

  She licked her dry lips. “I want—” The words stuck in her throat, she could hardly force them out of her mouth. She gripped the edge of the table until her fingers hurt. The world was shrinking, a black mist encroaching around her until all she could see was a small circle of light that framed Jamie’s face.

  “Tara?”

  His voice sounded as though it was a long way off. The circle shrank to a pinprick and everything went black.

  Chapter Three

  Christian woke as the sun went down over London.

  He stretched, reveling in the feeling of well-being—he hadn’t felt this alive in decades. He’d hunted
the previous evening, and his body was replete, filled with power. But it was more than just the feeding. Piers had been right. He missed the excitement of heading the Order, and now he had the chance to go back.

  There was also his newest client, Tara Collins. His mind filled with the intoxicating scent of her. The sensible thing would be to keep their interactions strictly on a business footing. Relationships with humans never worked.

  Only trouble was, he was bored with being sensible.

  The Order and Tara Collins. What to do?

  He stood in front of the open closet and knew he’d made his decision when he pushed aside the formal business suits and pulled on his old Order gear.

  He paused on his way out of the building to talk to Graham.

  “Nice outfit,” Graham said, his gaze running over Christian’s long black leather coat.

  Christian placed the file he’d gotten from Tara on the reception desk. “I want you to look at this. Find out what you can on the aunt.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  It was still early when he walked into the bar, and most of the tables stood empty. Slow music played in the background, and the lights were dim. Ella’s scent lingered in the air, sharp and acrid. Christian found her sitting on one of the stools that lined the back wall and took a moment to study her. She hadn’t aged in the thirty years he’d known her, and he wondered who’d paid for that—all magic had a price, and Ella had never been too particular about who paid it.

  She’d dressed to impress in a skintight dress the color of fresh blood. It showed off her perfect figure, slender yet with all the right curves, but then Ella was unlikely to leave that sort of thing up to nature. He wondered what she looked like shorn of all the spells. Some sort of raddled old hag was his guess, complete with warts on her nose.

  She wore sheer black stockings and crimson stilettos. Her legs were crossed and one foot bounced in the air. Glancing up as he approached, her sullen expression was replaced by a curving smile that didn’t quite reach her dark eyes.

  Christian strode over and stopped in front of the table. “You came.”