Blood Flame (Flame 1)

When Connor returned, he was frowning. He gestured to the second bedroom. “The door was open and I had a look inside. Iris, did you have a baby?”

The question took her by surprise and without warning tears flooded her eyes. She nodded, then told him about being pregnant during her alter.

He came to sit beside her on the bed and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. Christ, you lost your husband and a baby, then your sister. How did you bear it?”

“With great difficulty. But my friend and mentor, Eliza, helped me a lot.”

He sighed, holding her gaze. “This is good between, us right?”

“It’s wonderful.”

He rose to get dressed. “The shower’s all yours. But when you’re done, we should talk.” He looked so serious.

“I won’t take long.”

As she gathered her things, then moved into the bathroom, she wondered how many times Connor had come close to death in his line of work. Was it possible he’d chosen to work the border, one of the most difficult jobs in their world, because he had a death wish?

Earlier, she’d wanted to address what she perceived as the darkness in his soul, but the moment had been too wonderful. Maybe he was thinking the same thing and the time had come.

If they were to be married, she needed to know what was going on.

When she was done cleaning up, she returned to her bedroom, but Connor wasn’t there. She heard what sounded like the TV. Maybe he was checking the news.

She dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and another short-sleeved t-shirt, this one in red. Brushing out her hair, she bound it once more in a ponytail.

Making her way to the living room, she saw Connor standing near the kitchen, but he looked shocked-out again. “Iris, I’m sorry—”

“What do you mean?”

As she moved into the dining area, she saw that the TV wasn’t on after all. Then she felt a terrible presence; a dark witch was in her home.

She walked slowly, her heart beating hard in her chest. Her protective spell had been disrupted after all. Reaching the point of the hall where she could see into her living room, Evan and one of the most infamous witches of Elegance came into view. Seraphina.

“Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” Seraphina said. “We’re only here to make sure you knew about Connor.”

She was dressed in a floor length, black velvet gown, had long, curly auburn hair and a pure white complexion. Her eyes were black as well. They might have been a different color when she first became a witch, but the kind of craft she practiced, sometimes darkened the eyes. She was tall with a straight nose, perhaps a beauty in her day. Now her features looked hard and vicious.

The witch continued, “I mean that Evan and I can tell you’ve developed a fondness for the vampire, as I have for my most beloved Evan. But you should know the truth about Connor before you get too involved.” She turned to the man whose arm she held. “Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

Evan smiled as he met her gaze. “Absolutely.” He shifted his attention to Iris. “We felt it imperative you knew everything.” He gestured to Connor. “Though I think he should tell you. My guess is he’s been trying to, but couldn’t find exactly the right time to share what he did to your sister.”

Connor scowled at Evan. “What do you mean, Iris’s sister?”

“Oh, yes. She was there. Isn’t this somehow poetic?” He gestured to the table. “She’s the one with you in the top photograph. That’s Violet. She and Iris went through the alter together.”

Iris’s heart beat hard in her chest, hammering away. She knew instinctively that what Connor would say next had to do with the very thing she was most concerned about, the blackness in his soul. “Connor? Is he talking about the massacre in the Graveyard, where Violet died?”

“My memory of that night is sketchy at best. But Evan has showed me the photos.” He waved a hand to the table. “Please tell me that’s not Violet.”

She moved with leaden feet in the direction of a pile of eight-by-ten photographs. She recognized her sister, the life gone from her eyes. Connor was near her, naked, the red flames on his throat indicating he was high, and his fangs dripping. He’d been at the massacre, the one where Violet had been tortured, raped and killed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Connor stood in a state of shock. He hadn’t moved since Evan and Seraphina had pushed through Iris’s spell and strolled casually into her living room. They’d been smiling. Evan had even lifted both hands as if in surrender. “We come in peace.”

But Seraphina had carried the folder tucked beneath her arm and set it on the dining table. And after flipping it open for him, she spread the photos out.

He’d recognized the location at once, the cement walls and floor of a partially blasted out building. A dozen women had died that night and he’d been part of it. Though to this day, he didn’t know all that he’d done.