Blood of Dawn Read online

  “W-wow,” I stammered.

  “I agree. Maybe we should do that again.” He kissed me once more, and it was all I could do to resist begging him to take me right there, on the foyer’s cold marble floor.

  Sadly, a soft cough cut that one short. Then again, that was probably for the better.

  Still plastered to his front, I turned to give the interrupting party a half smile. In my mind’s eye, I imagined I was looking completely stumble-to-your-ass drunk.

  Mom’s brows lifted so high, her forehead looked like the skin of a shar-pei. “Sorry to interrupt, but, Sloan, your father needs to speak with you.”

  Odd. “Sure.” I gave Damen an apologetic grin and stumbled away, heading toward my father’s home office. The door was open, and he was sitting in front of his computer.

  “Sloan, have a seat.”

  I pulled up the big armchair angled in the small room’s corner so I was looking across the desk at my father. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Not at all. But after your reaction to the last time, I thought I’d better run this one by you.”

  I had no clue what he was talking about. “What ‘one’?”

  “Damen Sylver has formally proposed that you and he should court.”

  “‘Court’?”

  “To court is to date with the intention of marriage.”

  “Marriage? Um . . .” I wrung my hands. Court? Courtship? Marriage? I’d just broken an arranged engagement, and here I was staring at the possibility of diving into another? A lot of what-ifs flooded my mind. What if I decided Damen wasn’t the right one for me? How hard would it be to end this courtship? What if I started to like him, to love him, and he backed out? What if? . . . What if? . . . What if?

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” my father said, clearly keying into my mixed emotions. A part of me was flattered that a man who seemed so great wanted to take our relationship to the next level. But it was so fast, and we barely knew each other.

  Maybe there was a reason why he was pushing toward a commitment so soon.

  If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

  “Why is he moving so fast? Why even think about marriage already?”

  “It may seem fast to you, but it isn’t. Not in the world of the elves. Arranged marriages are still very common. Many times a man meets his wife for the first time on the day of their wedding. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t see a wedding in your immediate future. When Her Majesty approached me with her concerns—”

  “She has concerns?”

  “It’s nothing personal. She has a great deal of respect and admiration for you, of course.”

  “Of course.” Yes, there was a touch of sarcasm there. It just sort of slipped out.

  My father paused for a few seconds, as if to give me a moment to gather myself. It wasn’t necessary. I had full control of my emotions. If I didn’t, he’d know it. “Sloan, maybe you don’t realize, but that man out there is the future king of the elves. Things don’t work the same with royalty as they do with an average FBI profiler.”

  “I’m not dating any FBI profiler, average or otherwise. But that’s beside the point. I realize Damen is the potential inheritor of a throne, but isn’t he down the line of succession? Like, way down the line?”

  “No. He’s at the top.”

  “What? Didn’t someone mention something about the fertility of the elves? Doesn’t he have like . . . I don’t know . . . dozens of siblings?”

  “He does. But they all relinquished their claim.”

  “Why?”

  My father leaned back in his chair. “Because there are certain requirements, expectations, responsibilities.”

  “In other words, none of them wanted it, so he’s stuck with it?”

  My father shrugged. “I guess you could say that. What matters is that you understand what you’re walking into here. And what will be expected of you.”

  If it wasn’t for the fact that Damen seemed to be a great man, honorable, responsible, charming, adorable, sexy—the list of adjectives could go on and on—I would’ve told my father to forget it and walked away. But I couldn’t. Because Damen was all those things, and so many more. I liked the way he made me feel. Not just physically, but also emotionally. I didn’t just feel smart. I felt pretty. And desirable.

  “What’s involved in this courtship thing?” I asked.

  “It’s pretty much just a fancy way of saying you’ll be appearing in public together, as a couple.”

  I thought about it for a moment or two. Was that so bad? Really, it wasn’t. In fact, maybe I was making too much out of this whole courtship thing. “Okay, I guess I can handle that. No commitment, right?”

  “None. But there is something else. You’ll have to be chaperoned. And there cannot be any physical intimacy beyond a kiss.”

  Considering how warm I became when Damen kissed me, that restraint could prove to be a challenge.

  “Chaperone?” I repeated. Then again, that was probably exactly what I needed.

  Immediately my mind went back to that night with Gabe, the first time we made love. That night had been one I’d never forgotten. Bittersweet. And many times, I’d wished it hadn’t happened because later, when we did break up, it was the regret of that night that haunted me.

  Yes, smart kids, even kids with IQs over 190, make stupid mistakes. Don’t I know it.

  “I know it’s a lot to think about,” my father said.

  “It is. But it isn’t. Damen seems to be a good man. Tell me, is he a good man?”

  My father’s shoulders lifted. “I’d like to say I had picked a good man for you, but it seems we have a different opinion there. So I’ll say I’ve known Damen Sylver since he was a boy, and he’s never done anything illegal, immoral, or otherwise objectionable.”

  “Well, then, I guess that means he checks out. You’d know, being the head of security, if there was something to worry about.”

  “Yes, I would.” His gaze focused on the desk.

  For just an instant, I questioned my father’s honesty. But then I shook off my doubt. He wouldn’t lie to me. He was my father. He would feel an obligation to protect me. “Okay.” I stood. “I’ll head out and give him the good news.”

  “All right.” My father stopped me at the door. “Sloan, if you have any problems, my door is always open.”

  “You’re acting like you expect this thing to fail already.”

  “That’s not what concerns me. Sloan, until you’ve dealt with Her Highness, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

  The tone in his voice made a little quiver quake up my spine.

  With mixed emotions, I left my father’s office. Damen was waiting in the living room with Mom. She was beaming. So was he. Me . . . I doubt it.

  Mom stood. She looked like a kid who was waiting to talk to Santa. “Well?”

  I turned to Damen.

  He stood and strolled toward me with strong, sure strides. He took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. “Sloan, it would make me a very happy man if you’d agree to a courtship.”

  How could I not melt, the way he was looking at me? It was as if his next breath hinged upon my answer. I didn’t have the heart to make him wait a single second more.

  “Yes. I’ll court you.”

  He grabbed me in a bone-crushing embrace and whispered, “I swear, I’ll make you the happiest woman on earth.”

  I tipped my head back. “Now, don’t you go starting things off by making promises you can’t keep.”

  Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.

  —William Faulkner

  8

  There haven’t been many things in life I couldn’t grasp. I could understand the Yang-Mills theory, the Many Worlds theory, and the theory of Quantum Entanglement. But trying to comprehend how anyone under the age of thirty could see a future so bleak, he or she felt there was no reason to go on living was beyon
d the scope of my understanding. And believe me, there’ve been times when I’ve been downright miserable.

  I’ve suffered loss. I’ve suffered disappointment. I’ve suffered guilt and regret. Still, not once did I feel life wasn’t worth living. And so, when JT called me to tell me our potential third victim had been a suicide, I’d been slightly taken aback.

  That was nothing, as I soon learned.

  “The girl’s name was Megan Carter,” JT said.

  “Oh.” I clapped my hand over my mouth. It was shaking. Megan Carter. I’d spoken to Megan Carter. In the bathroom in the D Wing. Had I said something to set her off? Was her death somehow my fault?

  “She left a letter for her mother, Sloan. In her letter, she said Stephanie Barnett’s death was her fault. Do you know what she meant by that?”

  “She told me she left Stephanie at a party. That’s all. She felt that if she’d walked home with Stephanie, rather than ditching her, Stephanie might still be alive. I tried to tell her there was no reason to believe it was her fault.”

  JT’s end of the phone line was silent.

  “JT, did I do something wrong?”

  “No, Sloan. You didn’t. I read the letter.”

  “I need to read it.”

  “I have a copy. I can show it to you.”

  “Please. Thanks.”

  “I’ll be out in your area tomorrow morning. I’ll run by.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Bye.” My hands were still shaking as I set my phone down.

  Damen keyed to my reaction right away. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  My eyes were burning. My nose too. I sniffled, glancing around for a tissue.

  He took my hands in his. “Sloan?”

  I rubbed my drippy cheek on my shoulder. “She was so young. Both of them were. I hate this case.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said, thumbing away the tear that had dribbled down my other cheek. “If it’s too much, quit.”

  “But the unit needs me. I’ve helped them profile two killers already.”

  “That’s extraordinary, Sloan, but you’re still young, and that kind of work takes its toll on people. Being exposed to too much of humanity’s ugliness can make you callous.”

  I could see that happening to some people. I wasn’t sure if it would for me. And maybe that was why I briefly considered doing exactly what he suggested. Because I had a feeling either I’d have to learn to separate myself from my cases, or I’d end up having a breakdown. Considering the genes I inherited, risking that kind of trauma was probably dodgy.

  But then I reminded myself that I’d been working my whole life toward this goal. If I walked away from my dream, what would I do? What would my future be?

  I shook my head. “I’m not ready to call it quits yet.”

  “Okay.” He ran his hands up and down my arms. It was a soothing gesture, and it made my heart stop thumping so hard. “I know you can’t say a lot about your work, but I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks.” Appreciative of his broad shoulders, I leaned in and let him support me. “I haven’t been at this for long. I think with time it’ll get easier.”

  “I hope it does. For your sake.”

  We sat there, like that, on my parents’ couch. His warmth and strength embraced me like a cocoon, until my eyelids became heavy and I couldn’t keep them open any longer. He stretched, gently moving out from under me. “I need to get going.” Offering me a hand up, he turned a worry-filled gaze down to me.

  “I’m okay. Better.” I climbed to my feet.

  “Okay.”

  Together we walked through the house, toward the front foyer. At the door, he caught my chin, lifting it. “Promise me, if it gets to be too much, you’ll say something.”

  “I promise.”

  He tipped his head down, brushing his lips over mine. The kiss was soft, a teasing temptation that made my toes curl and the gears in my head come to a clunking halt. “Good night, Sloan.”

  “Good night,” I whispered back.

  Damen left.

  Physically and mentally beat, I dragged myself upstairs. In my room, I changed into a pair of Mom’s old velour lounge pants and a T-shirt. After taking care of the bedtime essentials, I crawled into bed and shut my eyes. Megan’s tormented face instantly flashed in my mind.

  Could I have done or said anything different? Could I have talked her out of killing herself if I’d known?

  “If I give you a kiss, will you proclaim your undying love or punch me in the nose?”

  I knew that voice.

  Not so long ago, I’d thought it was coming from a nightmare. Then I learned the truth.

  I didn’t open my eyes, but I did roll onto my side to protect my mouth. I did not want a kiss. Not from this guy. “Elmer, I don’t think you’ll like my answer.”

  “Darn.”

  I cracked open one eye.

  The lights were off, and the room was pretty dark, but I could still sense that Elmer was close. It was the smell. The way the air felt cold and void of life.

  “Back off, Sluagh,” I grumbled.

  “Backing.”

  I opened the other eye, squinting at the glowing numbers on my clock. Of course, it was the middle of the freaking night. “Why are you here in my bedroom? Aren’t you supposed to be filming your TV show right now?”

  “Yeah, well, I walked off the set.”

  A wave of dread swept through me. My first thought was for myself. If the show failed, then I was probably going to have to step in and become the next queen of the Sluagh. Then my next thought was for Damen. He would be hurt, disappointed. I hadn’t filled him in on all the ugly details of my arrangement with Elmer. If I had, I suppose he might not have dove into the whole courtship thing.

  “Elmer, you shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You signed a contract.”

  He crossed his skinny, little arms over his chest and jerked up his pointy chin. I noticed his teeth were back to barracuda pointy. The wig was gone. And his skin was back to the pale white of a fish belly. “Yeah? So? You signed a contract too. With me. And so far, you’ve reneged.”

  “I have not. We just haven’t come to an agreement on the terms of repayment.”

  He plopped on the bed. The temperature of the air around me dropped by at least twenty degrees. “Let’s talk about that.”

  “Not now.” My breath turned to mist. I inched back, outside of the cold/dead zone. “We need to discuss the terms of your agreement with the production company. I didn’t read the contract. Do you remember what it said?”

  “No.” He mumbled something I couldn’t make out; then, “I didn’t really read it myself.”

  I was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this. “Do you have a copy? They did give you one, right?”

  “Sure. Somewhere.”

  “Okay.” I scrubbed my face with my hands and glanced at the clock. If only my creepy, little friend could pay me visits during normal hours, rather than in the middle of the night, things would be so much simpler. “You have two choices. You can either go back and finish what you started, or you can find your contract and see if quitting is even an option.”

  Clearly, Elmer didn’t like either suggestion. The air around me grew chillier. The heavy sigh I expelled turned into a white cloud.

  He cleared his throat. “About your debt—”

  “Take care of this problem first.”

  Elmer’s eyes narrowed. “No, Sloan. No more excuses. No more putting it off. I will have what’s coming to me. Now.”

  There could be no doubt: I’d run out of time. I’d run out of excuses too. It wasn’t that I don’t like to pay my debts. I hate having something like this hanging over my head. But in this case, I was very nervous. When we’d struck our deal, my end of the bargain had been left wide open. There was no saying what it was going to cost me. None whatsoever. With my father’s warning ringing in my ear, I nodded. “What do you want?”

  �
�Take this.” Elmer handed me a stone. It was smooth and cool to the touch. Slightly translucent. Oblong. Smaller than a Ping-Pong ball.

  I stared at the stone, wondering what it had to do with my debt. Was it some kind of precious gem? Topaz, perhaps? There were no sharp edges. The surface was smooth, as if it had been polished for years by flowing water. “What is it?”

  “A very precious gem,” he said. “Now close your eyes.”

  Intrigued, and a little confused, I did as he asked.

  “I want you to bring to mind a precious memory. Something you’ve held on to for many years. Don’t think too hard, just let it come to your mind.”

  The image of me with Gabe in college flashed in my head. We were behind the science building. I had found this cozy little spot, situated in the center of a copse of trees. I liked to go there and think sometimes. It was quiet. Private. So different from my dorm room. I’d been sitting on the ground. My back was leaning against the trunk of an old oak. Up above, a squirrel chattered. Birds twittered. A soft breeze carried the scent of earth and fallen leaves to my nose. . . .

  “Gabe, what are you doing here?”

  My heart pittered and pattered. He was so good-looking. How many times I’d wanted him to notice me. I’d caught him watching Lisa Flemming with the glitter of hard male appreciation in his eyes. But not once had I ever caught that glimmer in his eyes when he’d looked at me.

  Until now.

  “Looking for you.” His lips curved slightly, pulling into a sexy half smile.

  “Why? Did you need some help with the organic-chem homework?”

  “No.” He squatted, putting us more at eye-to-eye level.

  “What are you doing here, Sloan Skye?” He reached for me, caught the collar of my jacket in his fingertips. “Are you hiding?”

  “From whom?” I asked. I was breathless. I was nervous. I was wondering what he’d do or say next. Was he going to tease me? Mock me? Or . . . or . . .?

  “Are you hiding from me?” he asked. He extended his other arm, flattening his hand on the tree trunk. That position put him even closer. Mere inches away.