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The Untouchables - Book 2
by T.A. Grey
From USA TODAY Bestselling Author T. A. Grey comes the second book in the dark romantic romance series: The Untouchables. In these woven novels, the infamous Blackmoore family of royal vampires meet their chosen mates in forbidden ways that will reveal new mysteries and close old wounds.
Grayson Blackmoore mated Anita Redenver because his father ordered him to do so. That was 600 years ago. And since then, the tentative relationship between Gray and Anita has soured and grown volatile. Out of duty, he respects his mate, but love is not in the equation. When a ruthless murderer kills Anita, Grayson knows he must find vengeance in her honor.
Arabella Donahue is a Were that can't shift--an anomaly among her people--but she excels at tracking down anything that moves. Under the orders of "The Mad Were", Zeke Hunter, Arabella begins working with the dark, brooding vampire Grayson and soon finds that his stoic, stalwart nature touches her and a simmering attraction lingers between them.
As Arabella and Grayson join together to fight evil forces, an explosive passion blossoms from within them. But if Arabella wants Grayson, she'll have to battle harder than she ever has for anything in her life. Because before there will be peace, guilt, retribution, and vengeance must be dealt with.
- Series: The Untouchables #2
- Publication Date: November 21st, 2013
- Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
- Length: Novel
"Tempting Gray is the second book in The Untouchables series from the very talented T.A. Grey. I loved it. It is a masterfully crafted tale of heartache, vengeance and passion. One that held me captivated from the beginning to the end."~Debra Taylor / Night Owl Reviews, 4 1/2 stars!
"I literally ripped through all of the pages because I was so excited to see what would happen next! I was that addicted! But, what I should have kept already in mind before waltzing into this book was the tragic losses that occurred along the way..."
Grayson sat in his car staring at his house.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he just came home and went inside, like normal people do.
No, he did this now. Came home when it was the last place he wanted to be at and copped a squat in the front seat like a damn stalker.
It made his head hurt just looking at the place, just knowing Anita would have some new shit going on. Was always like that.
He pulled out his pack of Sobranie Black Russians and lit on up, the black end flaring red for a moment. The smooth burn chafed his throat in a familiar way. He jerked his gaze away from the house and settled in to enjoy his smoke staring at nothing and everything. These were his only moments of peace anymore—the calm before the storm. He took a long sucking pull from his cig and held it in, letting the burn grow in his lungs and in his throat until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
An explosion of shattering glass broke his quiet solitude like a car wreck. He was out of his car and sprinting across the lawn in the next second, cigarette a smoldering twig on the street.
Curses then screams came from inside the house. He peered at what had flown through the window and felt his heart sink.
He couldn’t get inside fast enough.
He threw the door open, scanned left and right finding the usual—empty bottles of vodka, ashtray overflowing with bent butts, and stale musty air.
“Anita!” he roared. Already the same hollow feeling of anger began clouding his mind.
Another crash. Please no.
He flew into the hallway, stared down it for one long moment. Shock registered, then horror. Not the baby's room.
The door was open, the light on. More glass shattered as he stalked inside, arms shaking. Anita was running to the little wooden bookcase, stacking her arms full of little cardboard books with bright colorful pictures and big black letters on them. Her eyes were red, lips parted as she panted in her struggle.
“Anita, don’t,” he said, his voice hard.
She jerked but didn’t turn to look at him. She ran back the few feet to the window, shoving the little books out. The window was shattered from where she’d thrown the bassinet through it. She turned but fell with the movement. That didn’t stop her. She crawled her way to the toy chest, opened and grabbed fistfuls of fuzzy soft toys, throwing them at the window. Some went outside, others just hit the wall and fell back down to the floor.
“Anita…” he tried again, suddenly feeling tired down to his bones like an old, old man. A man who’d lost his fight a long time ago. A man who just wanted to sit down in peace and quiet and not think about anything.
The sobs started then. Hard, wracking sobs that shook her shoulders and howled like a dying animal. Once upon a time that sound undid him, brought him to his knees. Now? He stood there and crossed his arms, his jaw working side to side.
“Stop this now. How did you even get in here?”
More tears, more sobs. She keeled over, burying her face into the carpet, her fists beating the floor. Then she looked up at him, only she wasn’t looking. Her eyes were closed, reddened and wet. “I found it! I…found the key. Why you, why you wanna keep me out of here? Like, like I don’t belong in here? Like this isn’t my room too? Like it never happened!” she hissed. She spoke in that soft, erratic way like her thoughts and mouth weren’t exactly on par to speak.
He bit the inside of his cheek until the skin gave way and coppery blood filled his mouth. “I hid the key because I knew if you found it you’d do this. Do you see what you’ve done! Look, look around yourself, ‘Nita.”
But did she do that? Did she ever take any kind of responsibility for her actions? Hell no. The alcohol wouldn’t let her.
She slowly struggled to a stand, had to cling to the side of the crib to pull herself up. Her sobs subsided. “It’s always my fault. Always, always, always. Well, where were you, Gray? Where the hell were you?”
His eyes slammed shut as he crunched harder on the skin in his mouth, gnarling it. “I was at work. You know that.”
A strangled sound, part sob, part snort. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Where were you that night, huh? You think you’re so good, so much better than me.”
Years of practice allowed him to hide his expression. “You know where I was.”
“Do I?” she said, her low-lidded, slow-blinking eyes leveling on him with surprising clarity.
He shook his head once. “Get out of here. I gotta clean this up now.”
He moved and took her arm to pull her out but she snapped it back, wobbling on unsteady feet with the action. “Nooo, nooooo. Leave me with my babies. Leave me alone.”
Shit. Her eyes were watering fast and if he couldn’t stop the deluge now then he wouldn’t for the rest of the night. “’Nita, let me get you to bed. Come on, it’s late. Let’s get you cleaned up and fresh.”
She shook her head like a child, her matted hair slapping side to side. Then the keening began—a loud, gut-piercing sound that was somewhere between a child’s cry and a woman in agony. She grabbed handfuls of his shirt, buried her face in it.
He hesitated for a moment before wrapped his arms back around her.
“You’ll leave me too. I know you want to,” she mumbled between hysterical cries.
His heart pinched, nose tingled and he hugged her harder. Hugged the shell of a woman who used to light his life up; who now darkened it.
“Don’t leave me, Gray. I don’t have anyone left.”
He kissed her temple, rubbed a pattern up and down her back. “I’m not going anywhere, ‘Nita. I’m right here.”
When her knees gave out, he lifted her into his arms and took her to the bedroom and set her on the bed. She didn’t want to let him go but he tucked a pillow in her arms and she rolled into it, crying silently now.
He tried to pull away but she held tight to his hand. “Don’t leave me, Gray. I love you.”
With a ragged sigh, he sat on the corner of the bed holding her hand. “I’m not gonna leave you, ‘Nita.”
He couldn’t lie to her about the other part. The part he wasn’t sure about anymore, the part that had guilt eating away at him like a parasite.
Her head fell back, mouth hanging wide open as she passed out. Grayson slowly retracted his hand and stood. He gazed over his mate for a long while, seeing the past, the present, and future in her.
It may make him a guilty asshole, but he’d stopped loving her like that a long time ago.