Kisten had the heat on full, and the warm air shifted a strand of my shorter hair to tickle my neck. I reached to turn it down, thinking he was laboring under the false assumption that I was still suffering from hypothermia and warmer was better. It was stifling, the sensation only strengthened by the darkness we drove through. I cracked the window and eased back as the cold night slipped in.
The living vamp snuck a look at me, jerking his gaze back to the headlight-lit road as soon as our eyes met. "Are you okay?" he asked for the third time. "You haven't said a word."
Shaking my open coat to make a draft, I nodded. He had gotten a hug at Trent's gate, but it was obvious he felt the hesitation. "Thanks for picking me up," I said. "I wasn't too keen on Quen taking me home." I ran my hand across the door handle of Kisten's Corvette, comparing it to Trent's limo. I liked Kisten's car better.
Kisten blew out his breath in a long exhalation. "I needed to get out. Ivy was driving me crazy." He glanced away from the dark road. "I'm glad you told her as soon as you did."
"You talked?" I asked, surprised and a little worried. Why couldn't I like nice men?
"Well, she talked." He made an embarrassed noise. "She threatened to cut off both my heads if I jerked your blood out from under her."
"Sorry." I looked out the window, becoming more upset. I didn't want to have to walk away from Kisten because he had meant for those people to die in some stupid power struggle they weren't aware of. He took a breath to say something, and I interrupted with a quick, "Would you mind if I used your phone?"
His expression wary, he pulled his shiny phone from a belt holster and handed it to me. Not particularly happy, I called information and got the number for David's company, and for a few dollars more, they connected me. Why not? It wasn't my phone.
While Kisten silently drove, I worked my way through their automated system. It was almost midnight. He ought to have been in, unless he was on a run or had gone home early. "Hi," I said when I finally got a real person. "I need to talk to David Hue?"
"I'm sorry," an older woman said with an overabundance of professionalism. "Mr. Hue isn't here presently. Can I give you to one of our other agents?"
"No!" I said before she could dump me back into the system. "Is there a number I can reach him at? It's an emergency." Note to self: never, ever throw anyone's card away again.
"If you'd like to leave your name and number - "
What part of "emergency" didn't she understand? "Look," I said with a sigh. "I really need to talk to him. I'm his new partner, and I lost his extension. If you could just - "
"You're his new partner?" the woman interrupted. The shock in her voice gave me pause. Was David that hard to work with?
"Yeah," I said, flicking a glance at Kisten. I was sure he could hear both ends of the conversation with his vamp ears. "I really need to talk to him."
"Ah, can you hold for a moment?"
"You bet."
Kisten's face brightened in the glare of oncoming cars. His jaw was fixed and his eyes were riveted to the road.
There was a crackling of the phone being passed, then a cautious, "This is David Hue."
"David," I said, smiling. "It's Rachel." He didn't say anything, and I rushed to keep him on the line. "Wait! Don't hang up. I've got to talk to you. It's about a claim."
There was the sound of a hand going over the phone. "It's okay," I heard him say. "I'll take this one. Why don't you make an early night of it? I'll close down your computer."
"Thanks, David. I'll see you tomorrow," his secretary said faintly, and after a long moment, his voice came back on the line.
"Rachel," he said warily. "Is this about the fish? I've already filed the claim. If you've perjured me, I'm going to be very upset."
"What is it with you thinking the worst of me?" I questioned, miffed. My eyes slid to Kisten as he gripped the wheel tighter. "I made a mistake with Jenks, okay? I'm trying to fix it. But I've got something you might be interested in."
There was a short silence. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.
My breath puffed out in relief. Fidgeting, I dug for a pen in my shoulder bag. Opening my datebook, I clicked my pen open. "Ah, you work by commission, right?"
"Something like that," David said.
"Well, you know that boat that exploded?" I snuck a glance at Kisten. The light from the oncoming traffic made little glints in his stubble as he clenched his jaw.
There was a rattling of computer keys in the background. "Still listening..."
My pulse quickened. "Does your company own the policy on it?"
The sound of keys quickened and vanished. "Seeing as we insure everything Piscary isn't interested in, probably." There was another spurt of tapping keys. "Yes. We have it."
"Great," I sighed. This was going to work. "I was on it when it exploded."
I heard the squeak of a chair through the line. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. You saying it wasn't an accident?"
"Ah, no." I flicked a glance at Kisten. His knuckles gripping the wheel were white.
"Really." It wasn't a question, and the sound of tapping keys started up again, shortly followed by the hum of a printer.
I shifted in Kisten's heated leather seats and stuck the end of the pen in my mouth. "Would I be correct that your company doesn't pay out when property is destroyed - "
"Because of acts of war or gang-related activity?" David interrupted. "No. We don't."
"Fantastic," I said, not thinking it necessary to tell him I was sitting next to the guy who had arranged the whole thing. God, please let Kisten have an answer for me. "How would you like me to come down there and sign a paper for you?"
"I'd like that really fine." David hesitated, then added, "You don't strike me as the kind of woman who commits acts of random kindness, Rachel. What do you want out this?"
My gaze ran down Kisten's clenched jaw to his strong shoulders, then lingered on his hands gripping the wheel as if he was trying to squeeze the iron out of it. "I want to be with you when you go out to adjust Saladan's claim."
Kisten jerked, apparently only now understanding why I was talking to David. The silence on the other end of the line was thick. "Ah..." David murmured.
"I'm not going to kill him; I'm going to arrest him," I quickly offered.
The thrum of the engine rumbling up through my feet shifted and steadied.
"It's not that," he said. "I don't work with anyone. And I'm not working with you."
My face burned. I knew he thought very little of me after finding I had kept information from my own partner. But it was David's fault it came out. "Look," I said, turning away from Kisten as he stared at me. "I just saved your company a wad of money. You get me in when you go to adjust his claim, then back out of the way and let me and my team work." I glanced at Kisten. Something had shifted in him. His grip on the wheel was loose and his face was empty.
There was a short silence. "And afterward?"
"Afterward?" The moving lights made Kisten's face unreadable. "Nothing. We tried working together. It didn't work out. You get an extension on finding a new partner."
There was a long silence. "That's it?"
"That's it." I clicked my pen closed and threw it and my datebook into my bag. Why did I even try to be organized?
"Okay," he finally said. "I'll bark down the hole and see what comes up."
"Fantastic," I said, genuinely glad, though he seemed less than pleased. "Hey, in a few hours I'm going to have died in that explosion, so don't worry about it, okay?"
A tired sound escaped him. "Fine. I'll call you tomorrow when the claim comes in."
"Great. I'll see you then." David's lack of excitement was depressing. The phone clicked off without him saying goodbye, and I closed it and handed it back to Kisten. "Thanks," I said, feeling very awkward.
"I thought you were turning me in," Kisten said softly.
Mouth falling open, I stared, only now understanding his previous tension. "No," I whispered, feeling afraid for some reason. He had sat there and done nothing as he thought I was turning him in?
Shoulders stiff and eyes on the road, he said, "Rachel, I didn't know he was going to let those people die."
My breath caught. I forced it out, then took another. "Talk to me," I said, feeling light-headed. I stared out the window, hands in my lap and my stomach clenched. Please, let me be wrong this time?
I looked across the car, and after his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, he pulled off to the side of the road. My gut clenched. Damn it, why did I have to like him? Why couldn't I like nice men? Why did the power and personal strength that attracted me always seem to translate into callous disregard for other people's lives?
My body shifted forward and back when he came to a sudden halt. The car shook as traffic continued to pass us at eighty miles an hour, but here it was still. Kisten shifted in his seat to face me, reaching over the gearshift to cradle my hands in my lap. His day-old stubble glinted in the lights from the oncoming traffic across the median, and his blue eyes were pinched.
"Rachel," he said, and I held my breath hoping he was going to tell me it had all been a mistake. "I arranged to have that bomb strapped to the boiler."
I closed my eyes.
"I didn't intend for those people to die. I called Saladan," he continued, and I opened my eyes when a passing truck shook us. "I told Candice there was a bomb on his boat. Hell, I told her where it was and that if they touched it, it would detonate. I gave them plenty of time to get everyone off. I wasn't trying to kill people, I was trying to make a media circus and sink his business. It never occurred to me he would walk away and leave them to die. I misjudged him," he said, a bitter recrimination in his voice, "and they paid for my shortsightedness with their lives. God, Rachel, if I even guessed he would do that, I'd have found another way. That you were on that boat..." He took a breath. "I almost killed you...."
I swallowed hard, feeling the lump in my throat grow less. "But you've killed people before," I said, knowing the problem wasn't tonight but a history of belonging to Piscary and having to carry out his will.
Kisten leaned back though his hands never left mine. "I killed my first person when I was eighteen."
Oh God. I tried to pull away, but he gently tightened his grip. "You need to hear this," he said. "If you want to walk away, I want you to know the truth so you don't come back. And if you stay, then it's not because you made a decision based on too little information."
Steeling myself, I looked at his eyes, gauging them sincere, and perhaps carrying a hint of guilt and past hurt. "You've done this before," I whispered, feeling afraid. I was one in a string of women. They had all left. Maybe they were smarter than me.
He nodded, his eyes closing briefly. "I'm tired of being hurt, Rachel. I'm a nice guy who just happened to kill his first person at eighteen."
I swallowed, taking my hands back under the pretense of tucking my hair behind an ear. Kisten felt me draw away and turned to look out the front window, placing his hands back on the wheel. I had told him not to make my decisions for me; I suppose I deserved every sordid detail. Stomach twisting, I said, "Go on."
Kisten stared at nothing as the traffic passed, accentuating the point of stillness in the car. "I killed my second about a year later," he said, his voice flat. "She was an accident. I managed to keep from ending anyone else's life again until last year when - "
I watched him as he took a breath and exhaled. My muscles trembled, waiting for it.
"God, I'm sorry, Rachel," he whispered. "I swore I'd try to never have to kill anyone again. Maybe that's why Piscary doesn't want me as his scion now. He wants someone to share the experience, and I won't do it. He was the one who actually killed them, but I was there. I helped. I held them down, kept them busy while he gleefully butchered them one by one. That they deserved it hardly seems justification anymore. Not with the way he did it."
"Kisten?" I said hesitantly, pulse fast.
He turned, and I froze, trying not to be frightened. His eyes had gone black in the memory. "That feeling of pure domination is a twisted, addictive high," he said, the lost hunger in his voice chilling me. "It took me a long time to learn how to let go of that so I could remember the inhuman savagery of it, hidden by the jolt of pure adrenaline. I lost myself with Piscary's thoughts and strength flooding me, but I know how to wield it now, Rachel. I can be both his scion and a just person. I can be his enforcer and a gentle lover. I know I can walk the balance. He's punishing me right now, but he'll take me back. And when he does, I'll be ready."
What the hell was I doing here?
"So," I said, hearing my voice tremble. "That's it?"
"Yeah. That's it," he said flatly. "The first was under Piscary's orders to make an example of someone luring underage kids. It was excessive, but I was young and stupid, trying to prove to Piscary that I'd do anything for him, and he took enjoyment from seeing me agonize about it later. The last time was to stop a new camarilla from forming. They were advocating a return to pre-Turn traditions of abducting people no one would miss. The woman." His eyes flicked to me. "That's the one that haunts me. That's when I decided to be honest when I could. I swore I'd never end another innocent's life again. It doesn't matter that she lied to me..." His eyes closed and his grip on the wheel trembled. The light from across the median showed the lines of pain on his face.
Oh God. He had killed someone in a passionate rage.
"And then I ended sixteen lives tonight," he whispered.
I was so stupid. He admitted to killing people - people the I.S. probably would thank him for getting rid of, but people nevertheless. I had come into this knowing he wasn't the "safe boyfriend," but I'd had the safe boyfriend and always ended up hurt. And despite the brutality he was capable of, he was being honest. People had died tonight in a horrible tragedy, but that hadn't been his intent.
"Kisten?" My eyes dropped to his hands, his short round nails carefully kept clean and close to his fingertips.
"I had the bomb set," he said, guilt making his voice harsh.
I hesitantly reached to take his hands from the wheel. My fingers felt cold against his. "You didn't kill them. Lee did."
His eyes were black in the uncertain light when he turned to me. I sent my hand behind his neck to pull him closer, and he resisted. He was a vampire, and that wasn't an easy thing to be - it wasn't an excuse, it was a fact. That he was being forthright meant more to me than his ugly past. And he had sat there while he thought I was turning him in and did nothing. He had ignored what he believed and trusted me. I would try to trust him.
I couldn't help but feel for him. Watching Ivy, I had come to the conclusion that being a master vampire's scion was very much like being in a mentally abusive relationship where love had been perverted by sadism. Kisten was trying to distance himself from his master's masochistic demands. He had distanced himself, he had distanced himself so far that Piscary had dumped him for a soul even more desperate for acceptance: my roommate. Swell.
Kisten was alone. He was hurting. He was being honest with me - I couldn't walk away. We had both done questionable things, and I couldn't label him as evil when I was the one with the demon mark. Circumstances had made our choices for us. I did the best I could. So did he.
"It wasn't your fault they died," I said again, feeling as if I had found a new way to see. Before me lay the same world, but I was looking around corners. What was I becoming? Was I a fool to trust, or a wiser person finding the capacity to forgive?
Kisten heard the acceptance of his past in my voice, and the relief reflected in his face was so strong that it was almost painful. My hand on his neck slid forward, drawing him closer over the console. "It's okay," I whispered as his hands slipped from my fingers and took my shoulders. "I understand."
"I don't think you can...." he insisted.
"Then we'll deal with it when I do." Tilting my head, I closed my eyes and leaned to find him. His grip on my shoulder eased, and I found myself reaching after him, drawn in as our lips touched. My fingers pressed into his neck, urging him closer. A jolt struck through me, bringing my blood to the surface, tingling through me as his kiss deepened, promising more. It didn't stem from my scar, and I drew his hand to it, almost gasping when his fingertips traced the light, almost unseen scar tissue. The thought of Ivy's dating guide flitted through me, and I saw it all in an entirely new way. Oh God, the things I could do with this man.
Maybe I needed the dangerous man, I thought as a wild emotion rose in me. Only someone who had done wrong could understand that, yes, I did questionable things too, but that I was still a good person. If Kisten could be both, then maybe that meant I could be, too.
And with that, I abandoned all pretense of thought. His hand feeling my pulse and my lips pulling on his, I sent my tongue hesitantly between his lips, knowing a gentle inquiry would strike a hotter chord than a demanding touch. I found a smooth tooth, and I curled my tongue around it, teasing.
Kisten's breath came fast and he jerked away.
I froze as he was suddenly not there, the heat of him still a memory on my skin. "I'm not wearing my caps," he said, the black swelling in his eyes and my scar pulsing in promise. "I was so worried about you, I didn't take the time to...I'm not..." He took a shaking breath. "God, you smell good."
Heart pounding, I forced myself back into my seat, watching him as I tucked my hair behind an ear. I wasn't sure I cared if he had his caps on or not. "Sorry," I said breathlessly, blood still pounding through me. "I didn't mean to go that far." But you just sort of pull it out of me.
"Don't be sorry. You're not the one who's been neglecting - things." Blowing his breath out, Kisten tried to hide his heady look of want. Under the rougher emotions was a soft look of grateful understanding and relief. I had accepted his ugly past, knowing his future might not be any better.
Saying nothing, he put the car in first and accelerated. I held the door until we slid back onto the road, glad nothing had changed though everything was different.
"Why are you so good to me?" he said softly as we picked up speed and passed a car.
Because I think I could love you? I thought, but I couldn't say it yet.