Two days after he had confirmed Téa Montgomery’s death to Ana, Ty was back in his suite at the Belladonna compound. He’d just finished showering and was getting dressed. As usual, his thoughts were filled with Ana—the way she’d pointed a gun at him in that alley, the way she’d felt beneath him as he’d kissed her, the look in her eyes when he’d caressed her scar, and most of all—yes, most of all—the way she’d moaned his name during that crazy-ass masturbation session in front of his surveillance equipment. He was so lost in his thoughts, in fact, that when someone knocked on his door, he jerked.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Peter.”
Peter Lancaster was Ty’s friend and another special agent-involuntarily-turned-vampire.
But he had actually known about vampires before he’d been turned and, as such, had known whom to contact when they’d escaped—Carly.
As fucked up as the whole situation was, at least Ty knew he was in good company.
“Come on in.”
As Peter entered the room, Ty hoped his expression—and his body—didn’t betray who and what he’d just been thinking about.
“So,” Peter asked. “Have you heard from your gang girl again?”
“Ex–gang girl,” Ty responded.
“Right. Like she can ever really escape that part of her life.”
Ty’s mouth twisted. “You’re right. She has as much chance of doing that as you and I have of escaping what we are now.”
Peter snorted. “Jesus, Ty. We might be vampires of one sort or another, but so far, we’re alive. We still have our minds. Our memories. We’re still the same men we’ve always been. When are you going to get over your shit and remember that?”
Never, Ty thought, but he didn’t say it. Still, Peter’s words, his obvious ability to adjust to a situation that Ty couldn’t, made his control slip. Other memories flooded him. Ones he usually managed to lock down tight. Memories of Naomi. “Maybe when I stop wanting to drink other people’s blood,” Ty shot back. “Or stop thinking about Ben, the guy who helped us escape but didn’t make it out himself, or my sister, the girl you were dating. She’s dead. Do you remember that?” He usually kept his grief at bay by focusing on his mission and his own fucked-up situation, but sometimes it threatened to overpower him, especially when guilt was added to the mix.
To be fair, however, Ty had always felt guilt where Naomi was concerned, even when she was alive.
Peter flinched. Turned away. Slammed his palm against the door hard enough that it dented inward and cracked the doorjamb. For several seconds, he stared at the floor. When Ty said nothing, Peter finally turned back toward him. “Ben was one of us. He was a good man who knew the score, and the score was if we hadn’t run when he told us to, we wouldn’t be here right now. As for Naomi … I miss her, too, you bastard. But I knew her a lot less time than you did, and even I could tell the chances of her living to a ripe old age were nil. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, but …”
Peter didn’t finish the sentence, but Ty knew where it was going. Despite their life of privilege, Naomi had always been troubled and she’d loved to seek out even more trouble.
Ty said nothing, but Peter wouldn’t let the matter drop. “She was addicted to heroin and sex, Ty. She was always attracted to the wrong type. Dangerous people. I don’t know how, but it was obvious she knew the vampires who attacked us, and they knew her. So yeah, we went out a few times, but she didn’t love me and I didn’t love her, not that way. I’m sorry.”
“Do you—do you blame her for what happened to us?” Ty choked out. “Do you blame me?”
“No and no. But you? I’m betting you’re blaming a lot of people. Me and Carly for working with the Turning Program. For keeping the existence of those bastards a secret. But also yourself. Am I right?”
He wanted to say no, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Part of him did blame Carly and Peter and every other person who’d had a hand in the FBI Turning Program. They’d made the Rogues think they were untouchable. The least they could have done was warn humans, especially their own fucking agents, about the danger vampires presented.
But Ty also blamed himself for what had happened.
The last time he’d seen Naomi’s face, she’d been scared, frightened of the street thugs who’d called her name and blocked their way on the street. She’d urged Ty to walk away, but Ty hadn’t listened. He’d threatened the guys. He’d even shoved a few of them. He’d been so damn pissed at learning Naomi was consorting with what appeared to be thugs again, and so damn cocky because he was a badass FBI agent, and he was with Peter and Ben, two other badass FBI agents.
Just plain stupid of him.
Ty had been stunned when things went crazy, firing his gun only to discover that the bullets were no help.
All he’d felt after that was pain, and that pain had only magnified tenfold when he’d woken, strapped to a table and at the mercy of his captors. The true shock, however, had been discovering what those men thought he was—a vampire. One they’d created to serve them.
For nearly a full day, he’d told himself that help was coming. That the FBI would find him. That he’d escape. Those feelings had intensified when he’d realized Peter and Ben were also captives. At the time he’d figured his sister had been taken, too. She’d be terrified, he’d thought, but that had simply made him more determined to save them all.
Then his own body had turned against him, and he’d witnessed his crazed behavior in those around him. How nothing mattered but getting more blood. More sex. He’d been certain he’d kill to get whatever he needed, thinking he might even slaughter Peter or Ben or God forbid Naomi, if they asked him to, if only they’d give him another taste of blood or another female to fuck.
When he’d come back to himself and they’d told him that Naomi was dead, he’d screamed until his throat was raw. For a while, his sanity had completely left him.
But then things changed. Their vampire captors had herded a bunch of them into one room—including him, Peter, and Ben. The vampires had been freaked out, whispering that their location had been compromised, that maybe the FBI had found out they were double-crossing them, and that they had to transport everyone to another facility immediately, regardless of whether it was daytime or not.
That’s when Peter had revealed a huge secret—that he’d had a role in the FBI’s Turning Program and therefore had some knowledge about vampires, including the fact born vampires couldn’t survive direct contact with the sun; as such, it was a pretty safe bet the vampires transporting them would be turned vampires and thus easier to take down. The odds would be against them, especially given the torture they’d endured, but Ty, Peter, and Ben were hoping their extensive combat training would give them an edge. It had. As soon as they’d been shepherded outside the building, he and Peter and Ben had worked together to overpower the two turned vampires transporting them. Peter and Ty had managed to get away.
Ben had not. The last time Ty had seen him, he’d been pinned to the ground and shouting for them to run.
Peter had contacted Carly, another special agent working in the Turning Program, who got Mahone to arrange their transfer to a safe house. Eventually Ty and Peter had recovered. His freedom and the prospect of continuing his work as a special agent hadn’t miraculously fixed things, but it had eventually brought him back from the edge.
“It’s okay, Ty,” Peter said. “I know you loved her. That’s all that matters.”
When Ty again remained silent, Peter stared at him, long and hard, then sighed, obviously choosing not to pursue the subject. “Carly heard back from Mahone. Doesn’t matter if the queen knows about the FBI’s Turning Program; we’re to proceed as planned.”