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Bloodthirst swirled in a way I hadn’t experienced in decades. Thirst for the blood of the man—men—who’d done this to these women. A terrifying thirst to find the men who’d tied up Emmy for hours, then swept through and ransacked the apartment in a disastrous way. Thirst for justice.
Most other nights, I would’ve sensed this happening in my own damn apartment complex. But not last night. Last night I’d been so completely and wholly wrapped up in Trixie—both literally and figuratively—that I’d blocked out anything else.
Guilt swarmed me for not protecting these women in the way they deserved. Because I’d let my lust take over and cloud out absolutely everything else.
Almost all of Emmy’s vials had been broken by the intruders. Her precious laboratory was in shambles, and I doubted much could be salvaged of her beloved potions. Trixie’s plants had been dumped out, pots broken, and dirt was scattered across the floor. Carcasses of limp greenery sat in unceremonious piles.
It broke my heart when Trixie, trying to hide the tears shining on her cheeks, knelt before something that looked like a jumble of leaves and began trying to scoop the thing in its entirety back into its pot. A moment of flustered panic and sadness that she thought was private, but I caught out of the corner of my eye.
I joined Trixie and murmured to her that it was just a plant, and I’d buy her as many replacements as she wanted, but that didn’t seem to help. She muttered something about it being one-of-a-kind, and I realized then that it wasn’t about the plant. It was about the memories wrapped up with it, the fact that her personal space had been invaded, and the precious few items she held dear to her had been violated beyond repair.
Picture frames were broken, books lay limp and torn on random surfaces. Emmy explained in a shaky voice that it hadn’t seemed like the men had actually been looking for anything; they’d just been intent on causing destruction.
I flexed my fingers. I still wasn’t sure who had done this to her. My brother? Something to do with the election? Emmy had said the men had worn magical cloaking charms so she hadn’t been able to determine any particular characteristics of their faces or voices.
“I’m so sorry, Emmy,” I said in a low, rumbling voice. “I’m sorry you’ve gotten swept up in this mess.”
“This was never about me.” Emmy brushed off my apology. “I was collateral damage. It’s not your fault. Just take care of her.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of appreciation for the one friend in Trixie’s life who hadn’t let her down so far. I was determined to be the next. And, of course, I couldn’t forget Grandma Betty, but I hoped Grandma Betty was safe up in Crystal Rivers well away from this mess.
I hadn’t been able to get Trixie alone yet. She’d been glued to Emmy, worried about her friend, and bustling around the apartment as if putting things back in their proper place would help her to feel less violated.
When I finally managed to corner Trixie alone in her bedroom, I tipped her chin up to face me. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. I swear, Trixie, I will fix this.”
“It’s not your job to fix this.” She was trembling. “You didn’t ask for any of this. It’s not your fault.”
The truth of it hit me hard then, that she was wrong. I was the reason behind this disaster no matter how much we tried to tell ourselves otherwise. If Trixie had never crossed paths with me, she probably wouldn’t be the target of a break-in. This was my fault, even if not directly.
To make matters worse, when I was with Trixie, I was lacking everywhere else. I couldn’t even count on my acute vampire senses to protect the people close to me, close to her. I was literally risking lives by letting myself fall in love, and if that wasn’t a damn shame, I didn’t know what was. A man couldn’t help falling in love, but I couldn’t help but wonder why it had to be now, in the middle of the biggest messes I’d had to worry about in decades.
If anything, I should have been spending this time distancing myself from Trixie and her friends. I swallowed, leaned in, and kissed Trixie on the forehead. She looked at me so sweetly, with such hope in her eyes, that I knew my heart would’ve broken if it was still beating.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I need to take care of something. I’d love it if you and Emmy moved into the penthouse for now, at least for the next day or two. You can’t sleep here. I have security features there, and I’ll put a guard at the door. Just for the day. I’ll stay elsewhere if you’d like me to give you your privacy.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and that was what broke the last straw.
My feisty, sort-of-girlfriend wasn’t the type to roll over and accept help without a little bit of a fight. This wasn’t the Trixie I knew and loved—this was the Trixie that my brother, or whoever was behind this mess, had broken into pieces.
With her agreement in hand, I cleared my throat and stepped out of the bedroom.
I had to leave. I had to get out of here before Trixie could witness me at my worst, my most dangerous. Because I was out for blood.
MY FIRST STOP, AFTER ensuring my security team was all over Trixie’s apartment, was to a little studio I owned not far away. I’d demanded Vix and the publicity team meet me there. I’d also personally invited Merci to be there. It was a testament to the poison in my voice that Merci hadn’t argued.
When I arrived at the studio, I stood before the surprised team. I paced back and forth, and there was no way they couldn’t tell I was pissed. Even Vix had a bit of uncertainty gleaming in her eye, and that was a rare gem.
“We’re redoing the interview that we recorded this morning. I’m talking, you’re listening.” I pointed to Merci. Then I pointed to the head of The Hollow’s TV station, the one that had been airing all the election coverage. “And you’re going to air it, cut as I see fit.”
The man nodded and tipped his ballcap lower. “Whatever you say, Mr. Kent.”
“Now sit down and start the cameras.” I sat first, waiting as the team scrambled into place and threw themselves into work.
An hour later, we’d wrapped. I was watching the editing process with the footage from my new and improved discussion with Merci. I could tell she wasn’t happy about the results, but nobody had argued, least of all her. Probably because they all valued the blood that flowed through their bodies.
My next stop was to put my head together with Vix and pore over the materials she’d collected on my brother. We were no closer to finding Sebastian when my phone rang.
“Trix?” I asked, looking at the caller ID. “Is everything okay?”
