Fractured
Page 2
The first night we’d slept together had been the night of Ava and Salem’s Binding ceremony a year ago; a one-night stand that had turned into a month of several wild and unforgettable one-night stands. I’d hoped it would turn into something more, but Butch had made it clear—though not in an asshole way—that he didn’t do ‘more.’ So I’d cut my losses. I wanted something that had possibilities; that had the potential to go somewhere. Anything with Butch was a dead end.
It wasn’t that he had commitment issues. He just didn’t connect with people. Furthermore, he didn’t want to connect with people. Despite having known him for over a year, I didn’t know him at all. He never revealed anything personal. Never shared anything about his past. Never confided his feelings or thoughts. He was literally a closed book.
I didn’t judge him for it. It wasn’t wrong that he didn’t want to connect with others or that he didn’t do ‘more.’ It just meant he couldn’t give me what I wanted. That didn’t mean it was easy to walk away. No. But I’d done it. I’d moved on. I’d even found someone else—a human I’d dated right up until a month ago.
Dean was nothing like Butch. He was relaxing, fun, and safe—or, at least, he had been until he betrayed me. Butch was far from a relaxing presence. He had a way of unnerving people. And he definitely wasn’t ‘safe.’ Many called him sociopathic and a natural born killer.
Sam—the female half of the Grand High Pair—had once remarked, ‘I can’t help but be fascinated by how Butch can stand there plotting someone’s death while looking cool and calm, like we’re strolling in the park.’
It was true. Butch’s air of downright coolness went to a whole new level. But I liked that about him. I liked his air of self-assuredness. Liked how at ease he was in his own skin. Liked how daring and determined he could be. Hell, I just plain liked him.
I wasn’t the only one.
Many females flocked around him. I loathed them all on principle, especially Marla, the Kindle-killer. Butch wasn’t a slut, but he was no choir boy either. Honestly, I’d probably find him boring if he was.
Despite how much I liked him, I’d walked out eleven months ago, swearing to myself that I wouldn’t return. Yet, here I was again in his bed. Only, I hadn’t made my own way here.
I recalled the catfight, recalled struggling against Butch’s grip and then…suddenly I was tired. Obviously the female’s vampiric gift had been to induce sleep.
It wasn’t often that there was trouble here at The Hollow, which was a gated community surrounded by a tropical rainforest and situated on an off-the-map Caribbean island. There were cafés, stores, bars, a nightclub, and a bowling alley—all of which were centered round a man-made beach. The Hollow was also the home of the Grand High Vampires, Sam Parker and Jared Michaels—a mated couple that nobody with an ounce of intelligence dared to fuck with.
They had a legion of over one hundred male vampires. Sam was forming an all-female squad of ten, and she had offered me a place. I’d snapped up the offer, and I hadn’t once regretted it. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t an easy position. The training was rigorous and exhausting. Even though our squad wasn’t yet fully formed, we were sent on risky assignments; saw things that would haunt the hardest hearts. But in the legion, I felt something I’d never felt before: a sense of belonging. It was cheesy, granted, but it was true.
I was the youngest of five in a family of academics. Two were lawyers, one was a CEO of his own company, and the other was a surgeon. Me? I liked to read and sketch. That was pretty much it. I wasn’t academically minded. I’d never had great aspirations or any drive to do something with my life. They’d never understood that; never understood me.
As such, although they had involved me in family events, I’d always felt like an outsider—my nose pressed to the window, watching this perfect little family but never being part of it. Thanksgiving had been a nightmare; a day of them making passive aggressive comments that suggested I was lazy, directionless, and a dreamer. Then when I’d speak up and tell them to stop, they would say I was too sensitive and needed to learn to take a joke.
I’d just never fit. And they’d never let me forget it.
Here, I fit. Here, it was okay to be different. Here, we were all different. Each and every one of us had freaky preternatural quirks and gifts.
All three vampire breeds were born with an individual gift. Pagoris, like Butch, were the most powerful; known for their aggressiveness, their enhanced speed and strength, and their potent bloodlust. They also had a red tint to their irises that glowed when they were thirsty, angry, or horny.
Keja eyes had the same quirk, only the tint to their irises was amber rather than red. My breed also had hypnotic beauty, allowing us to lure in our prey very easily—whether they be vampire or human. We were also the only breed that possessed fangs.
Sventés were often considered human-like because their bloodlust wasn’t strong, they only had notable agility to boast of, their irises were completely normal, and their vampiric gifts tended to be only defensive. Personally, I didn’t think being ‘tame’ made them weak. To me, it was their strength. It allowed them to blend in easily with their prey without losing control.
It was safe to say I’d lost control last night when—
Butch’s eyes opened, and his watchful brooding gaze took me in. I’d heard a lot of people describe his eyes as ‘eerie’ because they were so dark. I didn’t think so. Oh, they could sure look scary when he was facing down an enemy. Other times, like now, they could be so languid and slumberous that my insides melted.
I swallowed. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I wanted you here.” The response was almost child-like in its simplicity. It was also rather typical of him. If he wanted to do something, he did it. If he wanted something, he went after it. And he made no excuses.
“That heifer sent me to dreamland, huh?”
“I was concentrating so hard on keeping hold of you that I didn’t get my shield around you in time.” Butch was a Negator; he could negate or deflect any power directed at him. As part of his gift, he could form a defensive shield.
Me? I had the rare ability to sever blood-bonds. There were two types of blood-blonds: the kind formed between fully mated vampires, and the kind that formed between a person and the vampire who created them. I’d long ago severed the bond between me and my Sire, and for very good reasons.
It wasn’t that he had commitment issues. He just didn’t connect with people. Furthermore, he didn’t want to connect with people. Despite having known him for over a year, I didn’t know him at all. He never revealed anything personal. Never shared anything about his past. Never confided his feelings or thoughts. He was literally a closed book.
I didn’t judge him for it. It wasn’t wrong that he didn’t want to connect with others or that he didn’t do ‘more.’ It just meant he couldn’t give me what I wanted. That didn’t mean it was easy to walk away. No. But I’d done it. I’d moved on. I’d even found someone else—a human I’d dated right up until a month ago.
Dean was nothing like Butch. He was relaxing, fun, and safe—or, at least, he had been until he betrayed me. Butch was far from a relaxing presence. He had a way of unnerving people. And he definitely wasn’t ‘safe.’ Many called him sociopathic and a natural born killer.
Sam—the female half of the Grand High Pair—had once remarked, ‘I can’t help but be fascinated by how Butch can stand there plotting someone’s death while looking cool and calm, like we’re strolling in the park.’
It was true. Butch’s air of downright coolness went to a whole new level. But I liked that about him. I liked his air of self-assuredness. Liked how at ease he was in his own skin. Liked how daring and determined he could be. Hell, I just plain liked him.
I wasn’t the only one.
Many females flocked around him. I loathed them all on principle, especially Marla, the Kindle-killer. Butch wasn’t a slut, but he was no choir boy either. Honestly, I’d probably find him boring if he was.
Despite how much I liked him, I’d walked out eleven months ago, swearing to myself that I wouldn’t return. Yet, here I was again in his bed. Only, I hadn’t made my own way here.
I recalled the catfight, recalled struggling against Butch’s grip and then…suddenly I was tired. Obviously the female’s vampiric gift had been to induce sleep.
It wasn’t often that there was trouble here at The Hollow, which was a gated community surrounded by a tropical rainforest and situated on an off-the-map Caribbean island. There were cafés, stores, bars, a nightclub, and a bowling alley—all of which were centered round a man-made beach. The Hollow was also the home of the Grand High Vampires, Sam Parker and Jared Michaels—a mated couple that nobody with an ounce of intelligence dared to fuck with.
They had a legion of over one hundred male vampires. Sam was forming an all-female squad of ten, and she had offered me a place. I’d snapped up the offer, and I hadn’t once regretted it. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t an easy position. The training was rigorous and exhausting. Even though our squad wasn’t yet fully formed, we were sent on risky assignments; saw things that would haunt the hardest hearts. But in the legion, I felt something I’d never felt before: a sense of belonging. It was cheesy, granted, but it was true.
I was the youngest of five in a family of academics. Two were lawyers, one was a CEO of his own company, and the other was a surgeon. Me? I liked to read and sketch. That was pretty much it. I wasn’t academically minded. I’d never had great aspirations or any drive to do something with my life. They’d never understood that; never understood me.
As such, although they had involved me in family events, I’d always felt like an outsider—my nose pressed to the window, watching this perfect little family but never being part of it. Thanksgiving had been a nightmare; a day of them making passive aggressive comments that suggested I was lazy, directionless, and a dreamer. Then when I’d speak up and tell them to stop, they would say I was too sensitive and needed to learn to take a joke.
I’d just never fit. And they’d never let me forget it.
Here, I fit. Here, it was okay to be different. Here, we were all different. Each and every one of us had freaky preternatural quirks and gifts.
All three vampire breeds were born with an individual gift. Pagoris, like Butch, were the most powerful; known for their aggressiveness, their enhanced speed and strength, and their potent bloodlust. They also had a red tint to their irises that glowed when they were thirsty, angry, or horny.
Keja eyes had the same quirk, only the tint to their irises was amber rather than red. My breed also had hypnotic beauty, allowing us to lure in our prey very easily—whether they be vampire or human. We were also the only breed that possessed fangs.
Sventés were often considered human-like because their bloodlust wasn’t strong, they only had notable agility to boast of, their irises were completely normal, and their vampiric gifts tended to be only defensive. Personally, I didn’t think being ‘tame’ made them weak. To me, it was their strength. It allowed them to blend in easily with their prey without losing control.
It was safe to say I’d lost control last night when—
Butch’s eyes opened, and his watchful brooding gaze took me in. I’d heard a lot of people describe his eyes as ‘eerie’ because they were so dark. I didn’t think so. Oh, they could sure look scary when he was facing down an enemy. Other times, like now, they could be so languid and slumberous that my insides melted.
I swallowed. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I wanted you here.” The response was almost child-like in its simplicity. It was also rather typical of him. If he wanted to do something, he did it. If he wanted something, he went after it. And he made no excuses.
“That heifer sent me to dreamland, huh?”
“I was concentrating so hard on keeping hold of you that I didn’t get my shield around you in time.” Butch was a Negator; he could negate or deflect any power directed at him. As part of his gift, he could form a defensive shield.
Me? I had the rare ability to sever blood-bonds. There were two types of blood-blonds: the kind formed between fully mated vampires, and the kind that formed between a person and the vampire who created them. I’d long ago severed the bond between me and my Sire, and for very good reasons.
