Jericho (Free to Love #1)

Chapter 1

JERICHO

Snow crunches beneath my boots as I exit the movie theater, and I yank the collar of my jacket up. It’s unbearably cold, even for November in Northern Idaho. I climb into my van and crank the heat, rubbing my hands together for warmth.

As I wait for the windows to clear of fog and frost, something gnaws at my insides.

Not hunger, but a need just the same. The need to know.

To be sure Evan O'Connor is all right. It has been ten months since I last heard his voice or saw his gorgeous blue eyes up close.

Ten months since I felt the warmth of his touch on my skin.

Even if his touches hadn't meant what I wanted them to mean, I still crave them.

Without thinking, I drive down Whitehawk Lane to the familiar single-story red brick home. Evan rented it back in college, and I wasn’t surprised to discover he was still living there when I returned to Comstead. Evan is nothing if not a man of routine.

Seeing it though, the plain house with a single detached garage, had made me ache with longing the first time I drove by.

I nearly cried. How can such a small building hold so many memories?

All those late-night study sessions, or the times I’d slept over to wean off a hangover.

The long conversations we’d shared, pretending to have our lives figured out.

The movie marathons on his lumpy thrift store couch.

Evan used to tease me about my obsession with foreign films, yet through the course of our friendship he’d memorized a few of them right along with me.

For four years, I spent hot summer nights on his front porch, bonding over cheap beer and microwavable popcorn.

Those days feel like a lifetime ago now. An eternity.

When I reach his house, an unfamiliar blue SUV is parked in the driveway, the windows slightly steamed as though the engine had been turned off only a few minutes ago.

My senses go on high alert when I see two figures silhouetted behind a sheer curtain, their stiff postures and jagged movements laced with tension.

I slow the van to a crawl, trying to stay out of sight. I can’t afford to be seen. Or rather, he can’t.

Keep moving, Jericho. You can’t be here.

But I can’t abandon him either. If he’s in trouble…

I wait, taking in every sound, every flash of movement.

When one of the men takes a swing at the other, I throw the van into park and run to the front door, opening it with enough force that one of the hinges pops free.

Two men whirl around, and my heart sinks at the blood on Evan’s beautiful face.

He’d been on the receiving end of that punch.

Instantly, my lips pull back, and I bare my teeth. A guttural roar lodges in my throat as I stalk over to the stranger. Slamming him to the ground, I close a hand around his throat, stopping just shy of crushing his windpipe. He smells of stale beer and peanuts.

I turn to Evan. “Do you want him to live?”

My friend gapes. “Wh-what?”

“He hurt you.” As if that excuses my behavior. “Do you want him to live, or can I rip his throat out?”

Evan doesn’t reply. Just stares at me with those stunning blue eyes of his. God. I’ve missed that unique shade of blue.

When his gaze drops to my mouth, I don’t bother retracting my fangs. It’s too late anyway. He would’ve seen them. And if he hadn’t, my speed and force would’ve been a dead giveaway that something is different about me now.

He blinks wildly, taking it in. I can practically see the pieces clicking together in his head as the truth hits him.

This is why I'd ghosted him.

This is why I'd cut him out of my life all those months ago, why I’d avoided all of his calls.

Because I’d been turned into a vampire.

The crack of a gunshot rings through the room, startling us both. Evan cries out in pain a split second before the sharp, sweet scent of blood hits my nose. I snarl and tighten my hold around the guy’s throat. How did I miss that the asshole had a gun?

Evan stumbles to the floor, landing on his back as a crimson stain appears on his shirt, dangerously close to his heart.

Instinct kicks in and allows only one thought: Protect.

In one quick move, I knock the gun away and sink my teeth into the stranger’s throat. He writhes under me as I drink his blood, swinging at me with both arms, but his efforts are futile. My strength is no match for a human. After several swallows, he goes limp in my arms.

Without sparing him a second glance, I spring across to the other side of the room and kneel beside Evan, cradling his head in my lap. Blood stains his chest and stomach, but there is still, somehow, relief in his eyes.

Relief that I killed the guy, or that I finally came back?

Evan cries out when I roll him on his side and lift his shirt, and I immediately let out a breath.

“Oh, thank God. The bullet went through you.” I bite into my forearm and hold it above Evan’s mouth. “Drink,” I demand. “It will only take a few swallows to heal you. Please, Evan. I'll explain later.”

Evan hesitates, then closes his mouth around the wound and sucks. I can hear his heart racing, feel every rapid breath against my skin as his body fights to survive. The gentle pull of my blood makes my cock ache. Makes me want to dig my fingers into his hair… and I absolutely hate myself for it.

I cannot feel things for Evan again. I just can’t.

After a few strong swallows, I pull my arm away and lift his shirt again to examine the wound. It takes a few seconds for the flesh to begin stitching itself back together, but when it does, my shoulders relax. Thank the stars and moon and all that is holy. My friend will live.

Still a little weak, Evan reaches out to wipe something off my chin, and my stomach sinks when his hand comes away streaked with crimson. Well, shit.

How many times have I imagined the moment when Evan finally learns what I am? Dozens, at least. But none of them had involved me killing someone right in front of him. None of them had him looking at me like that either. Like I’m not some sort of monster…

I'd always hoped for that. Hoped, but never truly believed.

Taking a steadying breath, I force my gums to relax, sheathing the deadly daggers before checking Evan’s injuries one more time. His skin is warm under my touch, yet almost fully healed. “Are you okay?”

He’s quiet for a moment, still studying me. “I know what you are, Jer.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

He clears his throat, voice coming out a little raspy. “I've been looking for you for six months. Well, longer actually, but I've known for about six months.”

Add that to the list of things I never imagined. “How?”

He pulls away to sit up, turning on his hip so he can still see me. Blood is smeared across his mouth, his blond hair mussed, and those damn blue eyes pierce me right in the heart.

He’s just as beautiful as I remember.

“Davey Wright,” he says.

I rock back on my heels. “No. You sent him?”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Yes, and if you hadn’t been so fucking reactive, he would have told you why he was there! I hired him to find you, not kill you. And that guy,” he gestures to Dead Guy on the floor behind me, “has been on my tail ever since.”

I open my mouth to reply, but what can I say? I’m sorry doesn’t feel right.

Shame coils in my belly, spreading out to my chest. Evan knows. He knows what I am and what I’m capable of. And worse? He knows what I’ve done. He’s seen it.

Silence passes between us as unspoken questions swim in Evan’s eyes. I have longed for this moment since I was turned, regret eating at me for leaving Comstead, but now that I’m here, I have no idea what to say. I can’t tell him the truth; it would haunt him worse than it haunts me.

Instead, I look away.

“I saw you once,” Evan continues. His voice is strong but somehow broken too.

“About nine months ago in Prodigy. You were blinded to everything around you, and you looked, I don’t know…

lost, I guess. It scared the hell out of me, to be honest. I’ve never seen you so conflicted.

I wanted to get to you, but the street was too busy.

By the time it cleared, you’d completely vanished.

Without even a trace, you were gone. But that's when I knew for certain something had happened. So, I hired Davey, and after two months of searching, he finally found you… drinking from someone at a club.”

His soft tone surprises me. I always thought Evan would be disgusted that I drink blood now, but it almost sounds as if he understands. That can't possibly be true, can it? Can my best friend really be okay with what I am now? A dangerous vampire?

“Davey left as soon as he realized you'd been changed. He doesn't trust vampires, and I guess he had good reason not to when his sister was killed by one.”

I swallow hard. If Evan knew how many people I’ve killed…

“It took a lot of convincing to get him to go back, and then you just fucking killed him!”

“Because I thought he was going to kill me! I had a shit night when he tailed me, Ev. I had enemies chasing me. Real ones. I thought he was one of them.”

“I know.” Evan shoots a look at the man behind me. “But so do I now. Or did, I guess.”

My breath hitches. “Are there more after you?”

He shrugs. “Not that I know of. I think Davey owed that guy money or something because as soon as he heard I was his last client, he came after me to pay up. He’s been tailing me for two months.”

If Evan expects an apology for killing Davey or the guy behind us, I don’t give him one.

Davey shot me with a sedative. How was I supposed to know he wasn’t the enemy?

Still, I hate what I’ve done, and what I am, but more than that, I hate that I hurt Evan.

He was, and is, the only person I care about, and I hurt him in the worst way when I disappeared.