Page 77

Soren

“ T urn here.”

Soren obeyed the order, guiding the car through a busted, wide-open iron gate, onto a long gravel drive. They passed through practically a mile of scrubby pine forest before arriving at what Soren presumed must be their destination.

It looked like someone’s summer hunting cabin.

A depressing wooden structure with a vague air of abandonment.

Soren could just make out the banks of what appeared to be a small lake behind it.

He parked the car, the quiet of undisturbed nature enveloping them.

Hendrick didn’t seem to be in any hurry to break Soren’s silence.

To be fair, he generally preferred it when Soren kept his mouth shut.

Soren surveyed the cabin skeptically as they made their way inside.

Hendrick must have really been hurting to find a hideout quickly—this place wasn’t nearly as grand and fine as his usual haunts.

The living area was poorly furnished, a sprinkling of dust coating every surface.

The room’s one redeeming feature was a massive fireplace, almost big enough for someone to roast a whole deer in there, if that was their thing.

Hendrick stopped in the doorway to the living room, gesturing for Soren to enter ahead of him.

Soren walked toward the back window closest to the fireplace, affecting an interest in taking a better view of the lake, in reality happy to get as far away from his captor as this horrid cabin would allow.

He stopped in his tracks before he could get there, held in place by a form on the threadbare couch, initially hidden from view by the angles of the room. Soren rolled his eyes.

There was a dead body in this cabin. Not exactly a fresh one either.

He was an older man, probably somewhere in his sixties, waxen face covered with a shaggy beard. The cabin’s owner, Soren assumed. He looked at Hendrick, disgust curling his lip. “Christ, Hendrick! You didn’t bother to clean up after yourself?”

The bigger vampire looked characteristically unrepentant. “I needed him.”

Why the fuck would Hendrick need an accessible corpse? Unless…

Understanding dawned. Every living creature had a distinct scent.

At least, Soren had found that to be the case since the day he turned, and his enhanced senses had kicked in.

Modern toiletries mucked it up a bit—fruity body washes, floral conditioners—as did feeding.

For a brief while after drinking from a human, a vampire could take on subtle notes of their scent.

Soren took it all in. Hendrick’s out-of-character flannel outfit.

The days-old corpse in front of them. Was this really how Hendrick had been evading Soren’s notice in town?

He’d been masking his scent since their fight, spying on Soren without leaving a trail.

Soren might even be impressed if his hatred could allow for it.

His ex had never been quite so devious before.

That corpse looked awfully stiff though. “Have you been drinking from a dead man, Hendrick?”

Soren shuddered at the thought. Blood from the dead was…

dead , for lack of a better word. Sluggish.

Cold. Unfulfilling. It was taboo among their kind.

Considered disgusting and gauche. How far gone was Hendrick, to cross that line over and over, just to lurk in the shadows and spy on his old possession?

“Gross,” Soren said out loud, unable to keep it to himself.

“Clean it up for me,” Hendrick ordered, seating himself on the ratty armchair opposite the cabin’s dead owner.

Soren sniffed. “And do you have tools I can use, or will I be digging in the hard ground with my bare hands like some kind of caveman?”

“Just dump it in the lake,” Hendrick suggested airily.

“And have it float right back up in half a day?”

“What do we care? We’ll be long gone by then.”

So Hendrick didn’t intend to stay, then. Good. They weren’t nearly far enough from Hyde Park. They’d barely been driving for a full hour, following winding side roads up north. What was the point of even stopping here?

Hendrick answered that question for Soren with his next statement. “And don’t even think about running off, or I’ll drive right back to your little human. Have myself a fresh meal.”

Soren stiffened. So that was it? Stay in close proximity to Gabe as a threat, making sure Soren remained…

docile? It only made sense in the short-term.

What was Hendrick planning once they left?

Soren thought of the stairs they’d passed on their way to the living room.

The bedrooms must be on the second floor.

He supposed Hendrick didn’t need very long to get what he came for.

Soren didn’t want to think too hard about that.

“Got it,” he said, walking over to the body. He had to pass the armchair on the way, and he was stopped by a sudden, bruising grip on his arm. It took everything in him to suppress a shudder.

Soren hated this slimy cretin’s touch. He hated even breathing the same air. He hated more than anything that he’d had to touch his fucking mouth to Hendrick’s, and that Gabe had been forced to witness it.

Hendrick pulled Soren toward him until their faces were inches apart. “So pretty, my angel,” he cooed, his voice full of false affection. “I’ve missed looking at you.” He brushed his fingers along Soren’s face.

The beast inside Soren wanted nothing more than to rip this vampire’s fingers right off, maybe his entire arm for good measure.

But Soren was at a disadvantage. Hendrick was stronger than him, when it came to brute force.

And he was surely looking for a reaction, an excuse to put Soren in his place.

But for once, Soren could be patient. He could be patient for Gabe.

“I’m not touching you with this filthy thing in here,” he said, pushing his bottom lip out slightly. Any defiance was a risk, but Hendrick didn’t usually mind whining or even a little pouting. It was signs of strength he couldn’t stand.

Hendrick stared hard for a moment, then relaxed his hold, seeming to concede to the point. “Hurry up, then.”

Soren tugged his arm out of the other vampire’s grip, then stepped to the couch, heaving the hideous corpse over his shoulder easily.

He headed out the back, walking the body over to the lake, scouting the area as he went.

He didn’t see any visible neighbors, no roads other than the one they’d arrived on.

The only other building was a rundown shed to the side of the cabin.

It was a ghost wood. Abandoned.

Outside, away from Hendrick’s suffocating presence, Soren did his best not to fall into despair.

He tried not to think of the look on Gabe’s face when Soren had told him to shut up, the sound of Gabe’s voice as he’d pleaded for Soren not to leave.

Soren had been so stupid to think he’d get a happy ending.

To think that his past mistakes wouldn’t catch up to him. Gabe’s twisted leg…

This was the second time Gabe had a broken bone because of Soren. It was two times too many.

Soren contemplated his next steps while searching the area for rocks to put in the poor corpse’s pockets.

The easiest plan would be to let Hendrick take what he wanted.

Lure him into a false sense of security, then…

attack? Better yet…run. Run and don’t look back.

Let Gabe live his normal human life, away from all of Soren’s supernatural bullshit.

Never mind that Gabe already had a supernatural brother and brother-in-law. This was Soren’s pity party; he could be in denial if he wanted to.

So let Hendrick have Soren. Touch him. Hurt him. It was what Soren would have done in the past. Take the smaller loss of his dignity, of his bodily autonomy, in exchange for his eventual freedom.

But he didn’t want to do it that way anymore. He didn’t want to sully the memory of Gabe’s touch with Hendrick’s slimy fucking paws. Even more so if he never got to feel the touch of his human again. He wanted to hold on to those memories.

Gabe’s strong hands. The way he let Soren lead. The way he looked at Soren like he was something precious.

Once the body was laden down with rocks, Soren tossed him unceremoniously into the shallow lake.

It wouldn’t hide a corpse for long, but oh well.

Soren had bigger things to worry about. He hesitated in returning to the cabin.

He wondered what Gabe was doing now. Soren hoped he wasn’t in pain.

He hoped Jay had woken up quickly and taken Soren’s human to the hospital.

Soren ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously copying Gabe’s mannerisms. He realized his hands were shaking.

Gabe hurt. Gabe suffering.

He couldn’t take it. It was wrong that Soren wasn’t there. His mate was in pain. His mate needed him.

Fuck running away. Soren belonged in Hyde Park.

And he would do anything to get back where he belonged.

Soren came back into the cabin to find Hendrick laying a fire in the massive fireplace. For what possible purpose, Soren hadn’t the foggiest clue. They sure as hell didn’t need the warmth.

The bastard probably just wanted to create the proper dramatic atmosphere. Because that was what Hendrick was, when it came down to it: a pathetic drama queen with no purpose of his own, who had to feel ownership over another person to feel like he was worth anything at all.

“You didn’t run off,” Hendrick commented, eyes on the fire, oblivious to Soren’s unspoken scathing evaluation.

Soren resisted the urge to answer with the deserved, “Well, obviously the fuck not, if I’m standing here.” That was the kind of answer that would end with Soren broken and bleeding and unable to run. Which was exactly why Hendrick was the worst .

Why state the obvious if he didn’t want sarcastic answers in return?

“Come closer.” Hendrick beckoned with one hand, still not deigning to meet Soren’s gaze. “Let me look at you.”

“I’m okay over here.’