Part 9 (2/2)

I offered him a smile, wanting to say something to make him more comfortable, for some reason, but struggling to come up with the words. After all, I grew up in a huge mansion in the Los Angeles hills. I wasn't naive enough to try to make out like Riley's place was anything more than what it was.

”Where are your parents?” I asked, curious.

Something in his face tightened. ”Mom died when I was fifteen. Dad took off when I was four, I barely remember him.”

”Sorry.”

”Don't be. Wasn't your fault, was it?”

He turned away from me, busying himself in the kitchen. I had a feeling it was his way of changing the topic of conversation. He grabbed two tumblers from the cupboard and then pulled out a bottle of whisky. He poured two shots and handed one to me.

”I'd offer you some ice,” he said. ”But I don't have any.”

I glanced down at the amber liquid and c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. ”Are you old enough to be drinking?”

”I'm twenty-two. I'm old enough to do whatever I want.”

”You must realize I'm not old enough.” I don't know why I said it-certainly not out of some moral code-more to see if it would get a reaction out of him.

He shrugged. ”What the h.e.l.l do I care?”

We stood a mere foot apart, but it could have been a gulf. There was a wall around him, a s.p.a.ce I could feel but couldn't see. I don't know why I wanted to bridge the gap so badly, but I did.

I reached up and touched the graze that ran down beside his eye, toward his cheekbone. He didn't flinch away from me.

”You should clean that up,” I told him.

My fingertips were smeared with red. I resisted the urge to put them in my mouth.

His eyes locked on mine, those deep pools of blue I could so easily lose myself in. ”It's fine, Icy. Barely a scratch.”

”My name's Elizabeth,” I said, trying to remember to breathe.

I wanted to touch him again. I couldn't remember the last time I was with someone whose skin I didn't have to avoid. My palms itched, my fingers tingling. I knew I should wipe my bloodied fingertips on my jeans, but a dark part of me wanted the blood to dry there, so later, when I was alone, I could lift my fingers to my nose, and inhale the scent of his blood.

G.o.d, I was such a freak.

”So what are you doing here?” he asked, breaking the moment.

I glanced away, and took a drink of the whisky. The liquid burned down my throat, settling to warm my stomach. I fought not to cough. ”My roommate has gone missing. I think some of your people had something to do with it.”

He didn't bat an eyelash. ”Probably.”

I blinked in surprise. ”Aren't you bothered?”

”Why would I be?”

”Err, because men can't just go around kidnapping college girls.” I thought of something. ”And anyway, you came to warn me that I might be in trouble. Why worry about me, but not about her?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a crease appearing between his dark brows as though he were pondering something. ”I'm not sure. You seem different.”

That's because I am.

I wondered on what scale he'd picked up on there being something different about me. Did it have to do with my prediction of the accident, or was it something more, a kind of subconscious lean toward the paranormal part of me. The vampires I'd met, including my father, had all been charismatic, and some even beautiful-a perfect way for a predator to lure in its prey. I'd never considered myself to be either of those things, but for the first time, I wondered ...

I folded my arms across my chest and frowned. ”I need you to help me find her.”

”Why would I do that, Icy?”

”Because I have no one else to turn to! The cops will laugh me off-”

His expression hardened. ”You're not going to the cops!”

”The h.e.l.l I'm not! If my roommate is missing and your guys are responsible, you can't actually expect me to just ignore it.”

”He'll know if you do. Then he'll come for you, and it won't just be a warning.”

I was starting to get angry now. Angry was never good. I lost control of myself when my emotions ran high, but I couldn't walk out now. ”Who is he?' Tell me, dammit!”

”Bulldog Mackenzie. He runs the show. Folks round here call him The Bull.'”

Of course, the guy who'd walked past me, the one with the non-existent neck and the tattoos on his knuckles. He'd strutted down the midway like he'd owned the place. He'd not been in my vision about Brooke being taken, but I a.s.sumed he was behind sending the goons who did.

”He's got my roommate?”

Riley gave that nonchalant shrug again, and the red haze began to descend over my vision. My pulse thumped in my ears. I became hyper aware of the blood now drying on my fingers, and the blood growing dark and crusted on Riley's temple. I needed to get a hold of myself or I was going to do something I would regret.

Abruptly, I turned and shot toward the door. It slammed open under my palm and I almost fell down the steps.

”Icy, hey, wait up!”

Riley clearly hadn't expected me to turn and bolt in the middle of my questioning.

I ran back the way I'd come, skirting between a few of the mobile homes, before getting onto the midway and using the rides as shelter. I prayed Riley wouldn't start shouting after me, so getting me noticed. I also didn't want to b.u.mp into the guy I now knew to be the leader of the carnival, and the one behind Brooke's disappearance. I was also sure he had something to do with the accident which I had intervened on. He'd wanted something bad to happen, but why sabotage his own ride? He must have known it would get the place shut down and under investigation.

I didn't know, but I did know that I needed to get away from here. I might not be able to read anything about Riley, but something about him got my vampire side all hot and bothered. I needed to let my bloodl.u.s.t cool down before I investigated any further. I wouldn't do anyone any good if I attacked someone, and it ended up being me who was under investigation.

Chapter.

12.

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