She shifted on the bed, trying and failing to get comfortable. “Why?”
“Are the painkillers working yet?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
With a sigh, he turned away and continued removing items from the grocery bags. Candles and matches. Clothes. A hairbrush. Boots. All for her. Thankfully, when he started speaking again, she was able to ignore the tide of gratitude and focus on his story. “His name was Jaxson. We grew up together.” He braced his hands on the kitchen counter. “I was the ringleader back then, getting us both into trouble. Stealing cars before I was legally allowed to drive them.” His head fell forward. “We got picked up by the cops one day, brought down to the station. Jaxson’s uncle came and picked him up, but my parents never showed. I don’t blame them. But I realized none of my antics would get their attention, so…I decided to knock off the bullshit. It wasn’t getting the desired results. I never had anything to show for stealing but a few bucks and it always went too fast. A cop handed me a recruitment brochure and I just threw myself into going straight. Being on the other side of the law. And it felt…good. Better.”
Had she breathed for the last two minutes? “What happened to Jaxson?”
Elias said nothing for a long time. “I’d already led him down a dark path, hadn’t I? I introduced him to a shit life and he couldn’t get out. He wasn’t as determined as me.”
“You pronounced ‘stubborn’ wrong,” she said softly.
He expelled a sound. “Pot meet kettle.”
She battled the urge to steer him away from what she sensed was a sad story. One he wasn’t finished telling. “Where is Jaxson now? Do you know?”
“Dead.”
Her stomach seized. “Dead?”
Elias turned to face her again, his expression remote. “One of my first drug busts…he was in the entry point room cooking meth. He pulled out a Glock and…” He plowed a hasty hand through his dark hair, his frame riddled with tension. And…grief? “I’m still not sure if mine was the kill shot, but I know he recognized me. Even through my gear.”
“Elias,” she whispered, invisible fingers clawing at the walls of her throat. Why had she brought this up? Forced him to relay such a horrible tale? Not only did she regret making him relive what must have been a terrible moment, but seeing him this human was a danger to her resolve. “Then…” She swallowed hard and pushed the acidic words out. “You know what it’s like to lose a friend.”
“Yet I took yours anyway. Is that what you’re going to say?”
Looking him in the eye was nearly impossible. “Yes.”
He nodded briskly, saying nothing.
“I know you were a new vampire. You were confused and hungry. But you could at least apologize. You’ve never once said you’re sorry for taking everyone I love. I loved them.”
His fist came down hard on the kitchen counter, his otherworldly strength causing the Formica to buckle loudly beneath the blow. “Would it bring them back?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but continued in a raw voice. “I’m a man of actions, not words, Roksana. Remember that.”
When she wanted to roll face down on the bed and scream into the mattress until her throat was raw, she breathed deeply instead. In, out, in, out. Accept the past for it is set in stone. Focus on what you can change. “A man of actions,” she repeated, her voice threadbare. “Good. Because it is necessary for us to trade favors once more.”
“What favor do you need?” he asked without missing a beat.
“I need you to teach me how to play poker.”
CHAPTER NINE
Las Vegas 2017
Thirst ruled Elias.
His fingertips scraped his throat raw in an attempt to rid himself of the pain. The desperation. The dryness and the yearning. His vision vacillated between sharp—so sharp he could count dust motes in the darkness—and blurry because the hunger ripped through him, grinding his organs between hot metal plates. Need food. I need food.
Laughter rose up in the back of the van. Sinister amusement from the vampires who’d made him like this. A parasitic creature, just like them. He’d barely been able to believe these things actually existed when he suddenly became one, writhing on the floor in mindboggling pain one moment, his organs grinding to dust, then opening his eyes to a different world. No physical pain at all, just the thirst. The unending thirst.
“Silly man. It is no longer food that you need,” Inessa sing-songed from the front seat, her body outlined by the bright casino lights passing by on either side of the van.
“I’m not drinking blood,” Elias growled through his teeth.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth did his fangs descend for the first time, cutting into his lower lip. The pain was fleeting, the injury suturing itself and ceasing to exist within seconds, but the horror remained. This had to be a nightmare. He was caught in a fucking nightmare.