Infernal

Nina's POV

Once I was able to pull my face from the pillow, I froze. Ow. That was a nasty pounding right there—I nursed my head, moaning.

I'd heard tales of the famous 'walk of shame'. While I wasn't doing any walking—yet—I could see little events from yesterday night pop, they felt like dirt you could never wash away, no matter how hard you scrubbed. On top of dirty dancing with a total stranger, I had seduced Cameron. Cornered him into a wall—sucked on his finger for the love of all sacred!

Heat swamped my cheeks. Digging the heels of my palms into my eyes, I sighed tiredly. I was such a light weight it was laughable.

As I rolled over, throwing covers back, I was certain Cameron would let me live yesterday's night down. That only sharpened the ache in my temples. Don't even get me started on how I felt about being on the Fallens Wanted list. Or the fact neither my little brother or his grandparents were—

Nearly toppling over bed, breaking my neck, I snatched the ringing Nokia off the nightstand. My heart sung a hallelujah seeing the ID caller.

"Henry?" my voice was hoarse—scratchy from the tequila shots. I cleared it—

"It's Patricia, dear." My heart stammered. Were they calling to cut off ties? To get me to stop— "But Henry's right next to me, digging into some cereal box for the prize." She laughed softly. "We saw you called when we got home, but it was so late already... I told Henry to wait until today."

Relief blossomed. They were alright. Nothing had gone bump in the night around them.

"Thanks for calling back, I got..." Worried that a Fallen Angel would kill you to prove a point? "Where did you go yesterday?"

There was a whining sound over the phone line. It was clear from who it came from.

"We went shopping. Christmas is just weeks away—you know how Henry loves all things related."

"Yeah." I smiled fondly, recalling the first Christmas we'd ever spent as a family. Mom tried to bake gingerbread-men, Nigel had been minutes from calling the fire department when smoke seeped from the oven. "He loves the presents most of all."

"Yes, but this year... there's something different. I think he's trying to keep it together for our sake." There were brushes of sadness in her old tone and I found myself wishing I couldn't feel empathy. Because the deep sting of guilt colored my heart and soul. "Honey?"

"Ah... yeah, I'm here. Can I... talk to Henry?" I brushed a finger under my eye quickly. Please don't let me enter sobbing territory, not on the phone.

Patricia said her kind goodbyes and wishes, then, a young voice that made my heart soar eased into my eardrums.

"Nina!" The squeal was pumped as ever, revealing no ill thoughts toward me. "I wanted to call you last night—and the day before, and before that, and—"

Letting out a little chuckle, I cut him off with the lightest tone I could muster.

"Slow down, kid. I can't keep up with you high on sugar."

For the next ten minutes, I sat on the edge of bed, listening to Henry run his mouth. He told me about everything he'd done during the week—about going to a pet shop and buying a rabbit, how he named him Whiskers, how he'd scored nine goals against his grandpa and how much it sucked to watch movies without me. He never spoke of the funerals, though. Didn't ask about mom and dad.

Seemed like he was in as much denial as I was. Couldn't real blame the kid, he was ten. Loss never got easy to deal with, but someone so young, so innocent... probably couldn't even understand it yet.

"Are you coming here for Christmas?"

Oh shit.

"Huh, no I don't think I will, kiddo." I winced at the pause. Long and drawn. "But I'll visit as soon as I can. Just right now I have a lot going on, with school and..." Going to Hell. "I promise we'll see each other again—I really miss you." I rushed, fearing he'd decide to hang up.

"I really miss you, too, Nina." He replied and I could almost see him standing in front of me, crestfallen. I hated I was the reason why his life was torn apart. "Hey," he perked. "When you come to see me, can Cameron come too?" That request made my heart skip several beats. "Grandma and grandpa don't make good pancakes." He whispered, cupping the receiver.

Only Henry could make me burst into a laughing fit when I had a bulldozing pressure building on my brain. Hangovers sucked.

After assuring I'd drag Cam's butt with me all the way to San Diego, we finally hung up. We hadn't breathed a word of our parents.

Dragging out a sigh, I found my shoes, slipping them on. Before leaving the low-light bedroom, I glanced towards the bed, feeling a little let down. A tiny part of me had wanted to wake up next to Cameron. Chasing the thought away with a pitchfork, I stepped out, covering my eyes with an arm.

Who knew sunlight could be so painful? Well, Demons did.

"Morning after is a bitch, huh, hon?"

Through slit eyes, I saw Courtney dragging the living room's curtains together.

"Thank you." I breathed. "It is... I bet that's an upside of being a Vampire?"

She gave a wry smile, "Depends how you look at it. Takes a lot of effort to get hammered—" Rory moved across the room, motioning me into the kitchen. "Even to feel a light buzz. But if you're really into the spirit of drowning your sorrows it won't seem a problem." A white bottle rolled my way on the counter.

"Advil?" I read. "Why would you have this if you're... well, you know."

"I went out and bought it this morning—" my eyes widened looking her straight in the eye. "It wasn't a bother, Nina. No I didn't read your mind, it's all over your face." She winked at my blush.

As I watched Rory take out OJ and pour it on a glass, I dug out a pill. I looked at it like it was the spawn of Satan. Mom would not approve. She wouldn't have approved of anything I'd done since the fire.

I popped the pill, trying not to gag when I drank a large sum of OJ.

"Cameron doesn't usually sleep this late." Rory mused, tapping the screen of her phone. "Sleeping in is Phillip's job." So was mine. "I guess you were up late last night—"

"No—nothing happened. He just hasn't been sleeping that's all." I mumbled.

Rory passed me a knowing glance. Worried and worn, sort of motherly. I bet she wanted to knock Cameron out for the next week so he'd stop drinking all the coffee.

Wringing her hands while walking back and forth, Courtney kept her eyes on the floor. The straight hair whipped when she turned. It looked like she had a lot on her mind.

Stopping, her head cocked, and she gave a small smile.

"Why don't you wake him up? We have a plane to catch in two hours. We'll leave after I come back—I have to talk with Billy about the bar and fix some excuse for traveling."

I nodded. I'd do anything to help. Asking where we were taking off to would have to wait, because the minute I agreed, Courtney had ripped through the kitchen, living room, down the hall and—puff. That zoom-speed was astronomically scary as it was cool.

I was stuck with ominous visions and dreams. Yippee.

The door gave a slight creak and I slipped in like slippery snake, shutting it with a wince. The room was drenched in mid-darkness, pitiful shreds of winter sunlight crept through the shutters, enough not to bump into furniture.

The walls came in two types of blue, baby and dark ocean. They could've been plain white. Most inches were covered in posters. To the right, was a medium desk with a built-in bookshelf and an old PC.

The room was much bigger than mine, harboring two twin beds—

I stilled my breath when the red comforter shifted. I thought he'd talk or throw the sheets back and zoom all the way to where I was standing. He didn't. Cameron's face was buried into the pillow, covers up to his midsection. I hadn't seen Cam shirtless tons of times, just one. Up close in personal. Shoved against a tree—I nipped my lip feeling the muscles in my belly coil.

The crescent moon on his left shoulder blade made my fingers twitch from longing to trace it.

This bedroom was filled with childhood memories, among the posters there were drawings and paintings, some actually looked good. There was one too perfect of a skull smoking a cigar. I smiled spotting a pin board with photographs. In their house or even in Phillip's room, there hadn't been picture frames, the slightest hint of family warmth.

Here was different.

I eyed a photo of two boys about Henry's age. Dimples were present on both faces, their distinct gazes sparkling with excitement. Phillip's hair had been darker, not the sandy-copper tone. Cameron... he looked only a bit older, cleaner and less frightened then the time I'd seen him in that retrocognition.

Shaking my head, I got across the room, trying to imagine what Cameron's night must've been like. This room had always been shared by the twins. Yesterday, sleeping in it alone... especially in the situation his younger twin was in... It must've been painful.

Sitting on the edge—

He trapped my yelp with a hand. I would've bitten him if I didn't feel confused. Hadn't he been sleeping? And hadn't I been over the covers?

Cam had used his super-sonic-cheat to roll me under him, draping the covers over our bodies. It felt like were little kids hiding from the boogie man.

Only there was nothing innocent in how Cam was staring down.

I had to glue my eyes on the ruffled black hair, otherwise, I would've shot up to taste his lips, see if they tasted as ardently as his gaze promised they did.

"Someone should learn to knock."

"You were asleep—"

"I thought Rory asked you to wake me up? Could've done that by knocking." The arrogance of him showed as his lips tipped, forming a grin.

"You... knew I was coming here?" I liked to think the hangover was making me sluggish. Not the bare-chested image of him.

"You've been awake this whole time!" I hissed.

Cameron caged me underneath him. I squirmed.

"Tight spot?" he mocked gleeful, like a lion toying with a mouse.

"Cam," I muttered flushed. His legs sandwiched mine. "Let me up, jerk!" I pushed at his chest with all my might.

Why. Wouldn't. He. Move.

I beat a fist on his shoulder, letting out a hiss of frustration. He was messing with me. It pissed me off. It turned me on like a flamethrower making out with gasoline.

"Are you even trying to push me off?" he mocked, buffeting some weight off me. "We'll just have to muscle-up those skinny arms of yours."

"Muscle-up...?"

He nodded. "Later," Cam dismissed.

As he lowered, I distinctively felt something hard press against the softest part of me.

Our eyes met.

A blush spread across my cheeks like a bad rash. His eyes crinkled with amusement.

I punched his shoulders, "Get off!" I cried with utter embarrassment. Afraid he saw what I really yearned for.

Cameron barked a genuine laugh and I lost my ability to breathe. Double meaning sucked monkey butt.

"Right here, right now?" he whispered, repressing bucket-loads of laughter. "With you watching I'd feel a little dirty—"

I groaned, repressing a bitchy yell. "Get off of me! You are so... so..." my eyes slit as he kept chuckling, glaring down with daring glee. "You're..." Not a single insult flew around my head. All I was aware of, was him pressing between my legs.

I never felt heat waves tolling me like this, rolling my nerves into a pinched knitting ball—my stomach was kicking. And that gaze of his. It smoldered me, trapping me all on its own.

"Silver tongue had a melt down?" he teased, voice between husky and velvet. Oh my. "I don't like being teased," I blinked when the arms on either side of me sunk deeper, his upper weight lowered. "You teased me an awful lot last night." Cameron's lips brushed my chin. "Now it's my turn."

My hands balled up as he found a severe, sensitive path down the side of my neck, pressing butterfly kisses. When he got to the intersection between my neck and shoulder, he nudged the sweater's hem aside. Cam's canines dragged along.

The next five minutes he was everywhere, playing with my earlobe—rubbing it between his blunt teeth—and pecking along my jaw line.

Never going for my lips.

I was resisting the holy grail of temptation each time his brushed past the outline of my aching ones.

What drove me over the edge was the slow rolling of his hips, thrusting against my achy part.

He knew exactly what he was doing. It drove me nuts to the point where I had to touch him. Anywhere. My hands sprung for his arms—the flexed biceps only made me bite my lip harder. My fingers walked along those lean curves, reaching the twin, broad shoulders.

Cameron growled. Something between a moan and groan. All because I'd dug my fingers between his shoulder blades. I did a do-over. He arched and the primal sound made me jolt, pressing our lower halves together.

I was on verge of catching fire.

My eyes burst when he pulled himself up. Why did you stop? A frenzied part of me wanted to scream.

Cam glanced at me through his thick lashes. "You're being a very bad girl tempting me like that."

"Tempting—? I wasn't doing a thing!" My situation set in anew and my hands banged on his chest. Like hitting bricks, only the surface was warm.

A cocky-ass smile grabbed his mouth, dimples greeted me and I fought a giggling fit.

"You couldn't keep your hands off me. It does things to me, Rapunzel." He leaned in and askew bangs tickled my forehead. "Don't test my self-control, Nina, it's not something I excel at..." Cam leaned in, tongue skipping across my neck line. "Quite the opposite."

In a quick haze, Cam kissed my cheek, rolled off to the side, leaving me with both moving and breathing room.

So why was I still plastered to his mattress?

"Don't be lazy Nina-kins, the plane leaves in two hours. I'm not gonna miss it because of you." He called, walking pass Phillip's bed and into the bathroom.

Because of me? I'd been the one with the hauling-his-butt-out-of-bed-job. And looked how well that went... A little voice in the back of my head whispered bitterly.

***

Billy had drove us all the way to Georgia's airport. Cameron had been moody about leaving his Camaro behind, but it wasn't like we'd use in Hell. Anyway, we'd gotten the check-in out the way—there was barely any bags—and boarded. In first class. Pretty sure Rory wasn't using miles.

When the plane first took off, I'd carved my nails in the armchair so deep, I thought I'd leave marks. Tear into the leather.

Flying was horrible.

I was a scaredy-cat when it came to heights.

Cameron spewed something about electricity generating magnetic fields, that he could probably create them if he wanted, and would be able to hold the plane on the air if an engine gave out. Or if the pilot died of a heart attack. Or if the gas ran out.

See? Total crazy-pants.

The flight was a short one, though. Two hours. We were heading over to New Orleans. Rory hadn't said a word since we took off, and Cam had played a game of twenty-questions. Getting no answers.

It felt like she was here in body, but her head was somewhere else. Nervous like at the kitchen.

Figuring it was best not to dwell on Vamp-issues, I closed my eyes hoping the last traces of that bad headache faded. Quickly, I was in one of those moments when you're between sleep and reality, head nodding off.

It felt so wonderful.

It got better. A hot, soft palm pressed my cheek, leaning my head to the right. My body had no control and what I found my face against was a cotton T-shirt smelling of familiarity. I'd slept cocooned by this scent for weeks. His smell. Outdoorsy but specific, eucalyptus.

A weight fell on my shoulders, my body twisted all on its own, craving the proximity of him. The restless heartbeat was finally laid to rest when I felt safe—near Cameron. Not even the slight trepidation rattled my fear of falling.

A breathy, dazzling whisper, was pushed against my hair. "Sei al sicuro," a hand bunched up in his sweater. "Tranquilla, bella."

I didn't manage an eye open, I did ask what he was saying in a whisper only his ears could pick up.

"Shh," Cam's fingers ran down my tawny waves, untangling some knots from the wind we'd caught on the airport. "We still have an hour left, rest up." With that, Cameron nearly pulled me out of my seat, so I'd rest on his lap. Before losing myself in a void, peaceful oblivion, I didn't miss the rumbling of a deep chuckle.

When I found myself inside another cab—only in New Orleans—I barely knew how I'd gotten here. I'd had the coziest nap on Cameron's chest. I tried to push the off button to my swoon-mode, seemed pretty hard with my hip brushing against his.

"What's with all the mystery, Rory?" Cam pipped, he was totally slouching in the laziest way known to mankind.

His aunt glanced was riding beside the cabby, looking out the window. I couldn't see her face, though. Cam kicked her seat—her head whipped at neck-breaking speed.

"Are you a child?" She scowled. His eyebrows rose in suggestion. "Behave your age, Cameron." Her voice rung with authority.

"That's no fun." He tossed me a wink, smirking in his daredevil-fashion. I bit my lip, smiling. "But spill, Rory, what are we doing here?"

The Vampire ignored his obnoxious remarks.

When our cabby hung a left and then pulled up on a sidewalk, I got the sense that we'd entered the neighborhood of all the things supernatural. There was just something... Something in the air. Like it was heavier.

"Wow," Cam breathed. "I never knew New Orleans was such a beacon for..." his obsidian eyes flickered to the man Courtney was currently paying. "People like us."

"How can you tell?" I hissed climbing out, standing near him.

"You can, too." A lip corner curled at my confusion. "Feel the heavy saturation? Like there's little oxygen? Well, it either tells us someone just used their abilities big time or that there's a big accumulation of beings with Power. That's why more Demons show up in Haven Hills when Raph drops by, his crossing over to our dimension radiates this kind of... drunken suffocation."

My nose wrinkled as I finished breathing. "It doesn't hurt to breathe, though."

"I know. Humans can't feel it. Just us." That sucked. "You'll get used to it."

Courtney rushed us to grab our mountain bags. Slinging mine over a shoulder, I caught a handsome boy standing across the street. He had this deep maroon beret, a nice sleek vest, Tee and jeans. He was leaning on a wall doing a coin toss—repeatedly. I found it impressive because...

He was staring right at me. Us.

"You two stay close to me, don't talk—hear that Cam? Keep the ass-commentary to yourself. Come on, we have to go."

Cameron's eyebrows furrowed. He'd been suspicious since Rory had handed us the tickets. I couldn't say I blamed him.

Before we moved forward, into an old street, I took a final peek at the guy—gone. A tick swallow had my legs moving faster, keeping me glued to Cam's side.

We walked on the large sidewalks for a while, passing a statue of a man on a horse—the Jackson statue, like Cam pointed out. Along Dumaine Street there were street performers, and among the crowd I saw a woman sitting at a table, a crystal ball and tarot cards were in front of her.

"She's not the real thing," Cam's warm breath caused a shiver to trippy my heart. "Bet she'd go over the edge if she had one of your dreams."

I looked up catching his eye. My head tipped.

"You're being awfully nice." With the exception of our little canoodling this morning, Cam hadn't brought up the fact I'd shamelessly thrown myself at him. "It's weird."

"Is it now? Do you prefer when I'm bad?" A hand pushed the small of my back—fingers played near the hem of my sweater. "Because I'm as bad as it gets, Rapunzel. You haven't seen nothing yet."

My body nearly spasmed with that promise. Bad. A part of me purred, loving the idea. A finger slipped under the hem and I stilled. Delicious lips became a smirk as he bent.

"I think you really like it," he hissed in a magnetic tone. He could get anyone to do anything with that voice. "When I'm a bad, bad boy."

A fire grew behind my eyes. That part of me was bigger than I cared to admit.

"You two will have plenty of time to suck each other's breathing space once we get to the Quarter. Move along." Rory nudge Cameron. With that I'm-in-charge-of-you glare.

He blew out an annoyed sigh, leaning back. "You're worse than a mother hen."

A grin of triumph spread, "That's right, ace, now move that lazy ass and stop flustering the poor doll."

Snapping my head aside, I took a calm breather. Rory began walking again. Cam's finger caressed me one last time before dropping.

We walked deeper into the older neighborhood that was the French Quarter. It was filled with tourists and snapping cameras. I shouldered my bag walking past a girl with blond curls, her eyes were on Cam and his mean swag. Acting like a lioness, I curled my lip at her and slit my eyes. The girl flushed, turning so fast I wanted to laugh.

I should try this look at school. On Sam.

A pang of sadness hit my heart as we climbed a street, I'd marked a territory I didn't have. Cam and me weren't anything, really. That truth burned like acid in my stomach.

Before I realized it, we were stepping through a large archway built for Gulliver himself. The equally large-as-life gates were thrown open. Reaching the end of a small tunnel, we came to a stop inside a quadrangular atrium. The ground was old cobblestone, on our left, right and front were apartment complexes; cement stairs led up to balconies with green iron bars, tall enough to reach my waist. There were so many windows I couldn't fathom how many guest rooms this mansion had.

This was one house.

In the middle of the square patio was a statue that could've belonged to the Renaissance Era. It was of a man on one knee, the only thing he had on was a toga covering half his chest and his lower waist; the body was sculptured with unbelievable detail, but what pinned my eyes were two sprouting wings, six-feet wide and arched, like the man had been in pain or despair.

Like a Fallen Angel.

A girl in her early twenties strolled to a balcony, looking down below at us. Tilting her head, I gaped when she placed a hand on the rail, swinging her legs over it. The fall was short, ending in grace. Grace no human had.

Rory ignored Cam's questioning glare, crossing both arms, waiting for the girl with wine-colored hair to approach us.

"Let me guess," the young woman started with a disinterested tone. "You're looking for a room? Too bad, we don't take outsiders, only the ones he—"

"We're here to see someone." I'd only met Rory yesterday, but seeing those otherwise warm eyes chilled threw me off balance. "He lives here. Maybe you know where he is."

A dark brow rose, "Does he now? And just who might you want to see?" the stranger's eyes flicked over us in a quicky.

"Romeo Livingstone."

The girl's eyes blinked. "Romeo? You're here... for him?" her lips quirked when Rory nodded. "Oh, this outta be good." Her gaze crossed us again, this time with mirth I couldn't understand.

"Something funny on my face?" Cam growled lowly.

Guess he didn't like not understanding what the F was going on, either.

"I wouldn't say your face is funny. Handsome as a devil maybe, but not funny." Still she smirked, enjoying an inner joke.

"Is he here now or not?" Rory snapped.

Dropping the gaze, the inhuman girl twisted at the waist, looking towards the terrace she'd come from.

"Pierre get your ass out here!"

A series of noises echoed as another door unlocked. A boy stepped outside leaning on a pillar. With wide eyes I saw it was the same who'd been penny-tossing and eye-stalking us. He'd gotten here damn fast. How that still surprised me was beyond believe.

"It's hard to believe your a Vampire and not a banshee, Simone." He grumbled with only specks of French in his undertone.

Smiling bitterly, Simone glanced between all of us.

"They're here for Romeo. Know where he is?"

Pierre's fingers drummed on the green rail. Saying nothing, he descended the cement stairs, pulling his fashionable beret off to give his ash brown hair a shake. Standing next to Simone he slapped it back on.

"Romeo's busy." He informed, hands on his hips. "And if he's not expecting you, he won't want to be interrupted. You'll have to wait until it's dealt with."

Cameron snorted taking a step forward. He and Pierre were head to head and I feared he'd do something rash. All that unease and restlessness was bond to explode.

"Whatever that guy's play-date is, I don't care. You're going to take us there. Right. Now." Yep, Cam was close to go boom.

Courtney's hand curled on her nephew's shoulder, tugging backward. He didn't move.

"Cameron." She hissed. "What did I tell you—"

"You told me many things. Doesn't mean I listened." He flashed a predatory grin, eyes sliding between Pierre and Simone. "You brought us to a nest of Vampires? How homey it must be for you."

Rory's jaw locked up. Tension pinched her face and Pierre let out a startling laugh. Cameron turned on him so suddenly I thought he'd pounce.

"A Vampire's nest? Kid, you have no idea how wrong you are." That's when I took in the edges of Pierre's face. His good looks were acute, different than the cold beauty Vampires possessed due their snow-skin. His was a sort of angelical beauty. "Here in the French Quarter there's only one dominant specie, and that's the Cambions."