Her mother snorted her reaction from where she stood at the counter, chopping meat and vegetables for the stew she’d serve for dinner. “Xavier needs a vampire woman,” she said. “Someone who’s a fighter, not a cook. And not one of those silly women he takes to his bed, either.”
Layla hiccupped as she fought back a sob.
“Is something wrong, mija?” her father asked. “Are you sick?”
She put down her spoon, convinced she’d throw up if she ate one more bite. Xavier was looking for a mate? “No, I’m just . . . not hungry this morning.” Standing, she kissed her father’s cheek, then her mother’s, and managed to get outside before they could ask any more questions.
She didn’t go to school that day. She went to the chapel instead. The wine was gone. She’d thrown the bottle against the wall in a fit of rage after Xavier had left, something she now regretted, since she wouldn’t have minded a little help forgetting what he’d done. What he was probably doing right now. The blankets were still there, so she laid down on top of the pile, pulled one over herself, and cried long and hard, unable to stop, even when her chest hurt and her eyes burned from tears that were long past dried up. She’d never known such pain, had never known it was even possible to hurt that much. And she’d never, ever expected Xavier would be the one to cause it.
Approaching Barcelona, Present day
LAYLA WOKE WITH a start, embarrassed to find her cheeks wet, angry that Xavier still had the power to make her cry. She’d left the Fortalesa soon after that, had gone to California and UCLA, where she’d met Brian Hudson. He’d been Army ROTC—Reserve Officer Training Corps. It was how he’d managed to attend university. The Army paid his tuition in exchange for him enlisting upon graduation. Layla had been intrigued by the idea, not just the free tuition, but the training. Learning to fight. She didn’t like to admit Xavier had anything to do with the choice she’d made to enlist, but she couldn’t deny, to herself anyway, that she’d experienced a visceral satisfaction with every new strategy she learned, every tactic, every weapon. And when she’d proven to be better than the others, better even than the men—stronger, smarter, a better leader—she was promoted above them. Some of them even followed her out of the army and became the core of her own fighting unit. They were respected throughout the world, fighters who garnered the highest price, who took the toughest assignments and always came home victorious. Brian had gone with her, too, without a whisper of reluctance or resentment that she was their captain. He was her partner, her lieutenant, her best friend.
But never her lover. Layla hadn’t found her mate in all the years she’d been gone. Had never managed to silence the soft voice that whispered from her soul, telling her she’d already met the only man who could be hers. A vampire, who didn’t want her.
She jolted upright, angry that Xavier had intruded on her dream, her thoughts, when she’d considered him gone years ago. It must be the situation—the fact that she was returning to Barcelona, to the vampire lord’s Fortalesa, where she was bound to run into him. She could always stay in the town instead. There were plenty of motels . . . though she’d have to come up with something to tell her parents, some excuse for not sleeping in her old bed, in the room they still considered hers.
Damn. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to get comfortable in the lumpy airline seat. She could feel every metal brace and spring in the damn thing, but not an inch of padding, and it pissed her off. Couldn’t they at least give her ass a cushion?
Okay, so she was in a foul mood. She loved her parents, but hated going back to the Fortalesa. Xavier was the reason she’d left Spain all those years ago, and now she had no choice but to go back. She only hoped her heart could take it.
Barcelona, Spain
LAYLA SEARCHED the terminal gate area, convinced she’d find her parents waiting eagerly, though she’d told them not to bother. At one point, she was certain she’d heard her father’s booming voice and had spun, expecting his arms to enfold her. But no, it was some other poor soul’s family who’d shown up en masse to greet their returning scion. She breathed a sigh of relief and kept walking, but couldn’t shake the perverse feeling that their absence worried her. Her father had always come to pick her up. Sometimes her mother wasn’t with him, but he was always there. Damn it, maybe something was seriously wrong with his health. The idea had her chest tightening with worry. Her parents were the only constant in her life. They’d always been there for her. Hell, they worked with vampires. There was no reason they couldn’t always be there, if they wanted. Surely the great and powerful Xavier could spare the occasional ounce of blood to prolong the lives of two people who’d devoted their lives to him? Selfish asshole.
She marched down the rows of rental cars and schooled herself into the right mindset for this visit. Xavier wasn’t the asshole who’d charmed an impressionable young teenager just because he could. He wasn’t the arrogant jerk who’d broken that teenager’s heart without so much as a casual thought. For this visit, he was someone her parents respected and probably loved nearly as much as they loved her. Someone they’d served for their entire adult lives. A good man, an honest man.
Hah!
She slammed the trunk on the mid-sized rental sedan, already missing the big SUVs her team used. But it made no sense to get anything bigger when it was just her. Still, she felt as if there was a target painted on the flimsy vehicle door, with a big sign that said “Hit me!” in bright red letters.
She made a sound of disgust, as much at herself as the situation. She was a grown ass woman with a grown ass job, and a kick ass team of her own, every one of whom considered her the kick ass-iest of them all. So what the fuck was wrong with her?
She managed a smile for the nice man standing watch over the garage exit, and turned toward the Fortalesa. Toward home. But was it really that, after all this time? She rolled her eyes in disgust . . . at herself. Of course it was. Her parents were there. Hell, why else had she been pushing them to join her in France? Because they were her home.
“Suck it up, babe,” she muttered, then veered onto the highway that would take her to Xavier.
LESS THAN AN hour later—and far too soon—Layla turned onto the long narrow road leading up to the ancient hillside fortress that housed Spain’s vampire lord and a good part of the country’s population of vampires. Her parents had been living there when she was born, although thankfully, the blessed event had taken place in a Barcelona hospital. When she’d been a child, she’d assumed that was because the vampires would have been drawn to all the blood from the birthing and endangered her life. But she’d discovered later that it was simply due to the absence of a qualified physician in the Fortalesa, and nothing to do with blood or vampires. She’d found that vastly irritating in its simplicity. Talk about perverse thinking.