Shades of Red

by T L Christianson

  In my own crouch, I exited our camp into the woods away from the hitman. The trees were dense, and branches snapped under my feet as I made my way through the tangled, almost solid brush.

  I was trapped and had to backtrack a little to be free of the trees. When I emerged, I felt a sting on my arm. My fingers came away bloody, and I quickly dropped into the grass.

  The bastard shot me!

  On one knee, I looked down the barrel into my surroundings, taking the safety off.

  Nobody shoots me and gets away with it!

  Especially not with silver!

  My arm stung, but the pain only steeled my reserve. When I saw movement to the left, I fired twice.

  I heard a muffled grunt, and I knew I’d hit him. Score one for the good guys!

  Pop, pop, pop!

  The sound of suppressed gunfire came from the injured man, and I dove to the dirt. Turning onto my back, I watched as the bullets sheared through the tall grass around me.

  “I know you’re there, little girl.” His raspy voice only pissed me off.

  I made a quizzical expression. Little girl? What kind of moron was I dealing with?

  I army crawled away from my position, trying to be as silent as possible. Then I heard muffled silencer rounds across the fields near the other side of the restaurant.

  My heart pounded. I didn’t want to kill anyone. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I needed them to leave. I needed the Butcher and Amy alive.

  Biting my lip, I tried to think of what to do.

  When he made no more sound, I sat on my feet and looked out over the grass.

  Pop!

  Pop, pop!

  Ducking back down, I realized that a bullet had grazed my head!

  My freaking head!

  “What the?” I touched the blood in my hair and steeled myself.

  I knew what this meant.

  It was either him or me. And it definitely wasn’t going to be me.

  I honed in on the direction where the bullet came from and began to move in my crouch almost silently.

  When I could smell him, I fired into the brush. My gun had no silencer, so the loud noises echoed in the hills around us.

  When I heard nothing for several moments, I stood and cautiously neared the hitman. There he lay, bleeding heavily into the brush, his eyes closed and his body unmoving. I could hear his slow heartbeat and decided to leave him alive.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I began to walk away.

  I’d killed before, but those times were accidents. This would be on purpose.

  Biting my lip, I didn’t want another death on my conscience, so I turned back to help him and I found myself staring down the barrel of his gun. He lay in the dirt with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

  I watched as the bullet emerged from the barrel in a pop and flash of gun-powder headed straight at me.

  Time felt like it stood still and I hesitated, before being pushed out of the way.

  Still watching the hitman, his forehead developed three red marks that began welling blood before he dropped to the ground and immediately began to decompose into ash and goo.

  Karsten had shot him while pushing me out of the way.

  I gulped, a little in shock, and pulled myself to my feet to follow him back to the camp.

  When we were safely in our hidey hole, he turned toward me, grabbing me by the shoulders. “I told you not to leave the camp.” Karsten’s features softened and his mouth that had been set in a tight line, relaxed. “Christ, Sarah!” His Scandinavian accent was even more pronounced. “You nearly died! That would’ve been a headshot!”

  I held my ground. “I’m not going to apologize. He was headed straight for me.”

  “I saw him. I told you I could handle them both, and I meant it. I was circling around for him.”

  He looked down into my eyes; his hand touched the side of my face, then trailed down my lips in a way that made my blood boil. Reaching up to him, I ran my fingers over his stubbled cheek, tracing my index finger over his full lips.

  I smelled it before I saw it.

  Blood.

  “Shit!” I cried out. “You’re bleeding.”

  He sank to his knees and pulled off his tactical vest. What had once been a grey t-shirt was bright red with blood.

  “Give me my pack.” He told me calmly.

  I couldn’t understand how he could be so nonchalant about having lost so much blood. As a physician, I knew the bullet must’ve done a lot of damage. We had to staunch the flow quickly.

  I grabbed the dark grey desert camo bag and dropped to my knees before him. He’d found the bullet wound, and instead of applying pressure, he was squeezing his flesh and attempting to dig it out.

  I’d witnessed my share of blood and viscera but watching this made me a little wobbly on my feet.

  “Stop that! Just leave it, you don’t have to remove bullets, it’s a myth!” I told him, digging in his bag for wound dressing. “Put pressure on it.” Hesitating, I asked, “It isn’t silver, is it?”

  My Viking blew out a breath, sweat beading on his forehead. “It’s silver.”

  “Shit!” I was at his side, probing the oozing wound in his shoulder as gently as I could. “Crap, it’s deep. Cover it and apply pressure until I can find something to get it out. Do you have tweezers or anything like that?”

  He didn’t listen, and I had to gulp some bile back after glimpsing another attempt he’d made for the bullet.

  Looking around, we each had a pack. I had a small first aid kit, but I needed my man to stop screwing around. “I swear to God, Karsten! Stop it. You’re losing too much blood, even for a Moroi.”

  I laid out a tarp behind him and pushed him to the ground, swatting his hands away from the wound.

  “I’m a doctor, you dumbass! Stop. I can fix this!”

  “Just suck it out with your mouth.”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “It doesn’t work, you should know that. You can’t suck a bullet out, that’s just in movies!” I pressed down on the wound, and he closed his eyes in agony.

  I turned and grabbed my pack when I saw him trying to sit up again.

  He told me, “You’re not a soldier. You shouldn’t have gone out there. I should’ve protected you better.”

  I continued to dig through his bag. “Cover the fucking wound so I can find something to get the bullet out with!”

  When I found my kit, I wiped my hands and some tweezers with iodine. His face had gone pale, and his breathing was shallow.

  He would still live even if he lost all his blood, but that’s all I needed on my hands! A thirsty soldier vamp!

  I moved the t-shirt that had been used to soak up more blood and probed his skin again. His muscles tensed beneath my hands, but he didn’t cry out. If I could remove the silver, he would heal relatively quickly and not even need stitches.

  “You can yell if you need to,” I told him.

  Vulnerability clouded his eyes as our gaze met. Before I could help myself, I leaned down and kissed his lips.

  I hated that he suffered and couldn’t imagine the pain he felt. I knew he’d taken that bullet for me.

  I was having all kinds of warm thoughts when suddenly I felt him grope my bum. That’s when I pressed down to hold the bullet in place and inserted the tweezers.

  “Ahhhhhrgh!” Yep, he yelled at that moment. I felt his hand clench next to my thigh in pain.

  He growled when I went in for the other piece.

  I’m not a surgeon, and I hadn’t done anything like this in years, but I’d managed decently having only tweezers and the filtered Texas sun to work by.

  After I retrieved the last piece, I began wiping his skin with wet wipes to clean him up. It always amazed me how fast Moroi healed. Sitting back on my heels, I watch as his skin knit itself back together.

  Karsten wasn’t any less interesting. His chest muscles were defined and appeared to ripple with every movement he made. I poured some cold water onto my handkerchief an
d cleaned the dirt and sweat off his face.

  “Shhhhh… It’s okay, it’s all done.” I crooned to him softly.

  After I washed his face, I poured more water on the green handkerchief and squeezed it out to the side. Then I began running the cool cloth over his chest and shoulder. I was mesmerized with his beauty and in awe of his courage.

  He lay there, staring up into the canopy of low cedar trees. His skin was icy and porcelain in color. Chewing my lip, I knew he needed blood.

  “Let me drink from you.” He whispered hoarsely.

  I bit my lip. Technically, from a medical standpoint, it would work… And I was the reason he was shot.

  I felt myself turn to jelly at the thought of his lips on my body as I held out my wrist.

  Shaking his head, he told me, “Your neck… unbutton your shirt.”

  I forced a laugh. “You just want me out of my clothes,” I said as I unbuttoned my safari shirt and pulled it off over my head.

  I wore a plain black sports bra–nothing fancy, but then again, I didn’t think I’d be stripping down in front of my Viking.

  I held my breath and hovered uncomfortably over him.

  “Lie on me.”

  “What?”

  “Lie on top of me. Relax, or it will hurt.”

  “I’ve never been bitten before,” I confessed.

  He knit his brows together. “Really?”

  I nodded and tried to relax.

  He stroked my hair away from my face and neck, running his hands over my back, before locking me into place with one arm.

  His soft lips kissed my pulse at first gently and then more urgently.

  My fangs ran out, and my lips parted. Heat pooled in my center, and I ran my finger nails over his scalp.

  I knew he could smell my arousal, but there was nothing I could do about my traitorous body.

  Then, whispering into my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin with wicked sensations, he said, “It’s like losing your virginity. It’ll only hurt for a moment, but then I promise you’ll like it.”

  My clinical mind knew that the effects of a bite were euphoric, but I hadn’t been prepared for the reality.

  When his fangs slid into my skin, it pricked for a moment. Then nothing, until a wave of ecstasy hit me and a tide of pleasure rippled through my bones. I moaned with every draw on my flesh. The sensation so erotic, I rubbed against him unashamed.

  I wanted Karsten. I’d wanted him since the moment I saw him–his wheat-colored hair a little longer than army regulation, and his constant five o’-clock shadow.

  The way he’d made me feel, content and buzzing, like the blood I was so addicted too. He charisma was understated–magical and when I was with him, I felt comfortable and happy.

  When he stopped drinking, I almost cried out.

  Instead, I stretched down to his erection that pressed into my thigh and stroked.

  Reaching down, he freed himself and began to undo my jeans. His mouth was on mine, and he rolled me to the side to adjust the tarp. After he pulled me back, his hand slid between my thighs, stroking.

  I moaned in pleasure, feeling his silky skin in my hand and his fingers on me.

  “I want you inside me.” I panted.

  “Not here, like this… not for the first time.” He whispered.

  I nipped his ear, and he arched his neck. “Bite me, min lille heks. Don’t drink, just bite when you’re about to come.”

  Our mouths came together in a clash of teeth, but instead of being awkward, it was sexy and intense.

  His stroking intensified as his fingers dipped inside, bringing me near the brink.

  “Oh!” I arched into him.

  “Bite.”

  I felt the beginnings of a monster finish as I bit into his skin, shattering into a million pieces. When the waves of bliss faded away, I fell to my back.

  Karsten lay beside me before using my shirt to wipe his stomach.

  Our bodies still touching, nestled together, I felt that the moment was perfect. Until I thought of Aurev’s warning.

  I’d learned years before that if Aurev gave me advice, it was for my own good.

  Turning away from Karsten, I buttoned my pants. I felt a tear begin its way down my cheek and I wiped it away.

  What did Aurev know that I didn’t? Why couldn’t I be with Sten?

  Becoming all weepy over a good orgasm was bullshit. I pulled myself to my feet and grabbing the keys, I started out of our shelter.

  “Sarah? Sarah?” He called out to me.

  I didn’t turn around. My tears and shame seemed to swamp me with their weight. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

  “I’m going to get us some blood,” I told him.

  “You don’t even know where the car is.”

  I hurried my pace and called out behind me, “I’ll find it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sucking in deep breaths, I found our rental car parked a few miles away. The good thing about being a Moroi is that I never got tired anymore and I could run miles without breaking a sweat. My shoulders were red, with a sunburn, and I remembered why I stayed indoors.

  “Sarah!” Sten ran toward me, naked from the waist up. I stopped to admire his broad chest and rippling abs.

  His eyes sparkled in the bright light. I took an unsteady breath as I watched him slow to a walk. The bullet hole was a little puckered and red but healed.

  I felt like an idiot. I had no idea what I was doing.

  “Look,” I told him, turning back to the car. His body was too distracting. “Let’s just forget that anything happened.”

  He wouldn’t allow me to look away and grabbed my shoulders so that I faced him. “Why? What’s going on? Why did you run away from me?” He loosened his grip, and his palms skimmed my arms down to hold my hands.

  “We shouldn’t get involved.” The backs of my eyes burned, and I squeezed them closed.

  “Why?” His gaze bored into me.

  “I…just…” I couldn't tell him that Aurev warned me off, could I? “I need to get better. Don’t you understand that?”

  Leaning against the car he locked his fingers behind his head before turning back to me. “I will help you no matter what, don’t you know that? We have something special here, something I haven’t experienced in a very long time. I know you feel it too.”

  Shaking my head, I swallowed and tried to mask my emotions. “We can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Av for fanden! You’re in my blood! You’re in my thoughts! All I can think of is you. Min heks, you make me want more.”

  “Karsten…” The moments ticked by and the silence grew.

  He let go of me when I didn’t speak, turning away to pace the road like a caged animal.

  “Tell me you don’t want to be with me. Tell me you feel nothing.”

  I stood there dumbfounded, shaking my head. Here was this beautiful warrior of a man pouring his heart out and I wasn’t saying anything. I’d lose the meager amount of control I had over my emotions if I did.

  “That’s it? We’re done?” He asked, hurt in his voice.

  “No… yes… I don’t know.”

  When he stopped pacing and faced me again, I swallowed. “I’ve only ever been honest with you. How can I not want you in my life, but with everything going on… I just don’t know.”

  “Oh, I’m good to fool around with, but not for a relationship?”

  “Shit, Sten. I never said that!” I squatted, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. “I’m just not…” I was going to say, ready, but he cut me off.

  “I get it…” He’d opened the trunk and began putting on a new shirt, before throwing an almost frozen blood bag at me. It was a good thing I was Moroi, or I wouldn’t have been able to catch it.

  “Karsten, listen to me!” I stood and was by his side.

  “Don’t.” His voice was low and angry.

  I couldn’t understand what had happened, how this happened. I took a step back, shaking my head. Tea
rs threatened at the back of my vision.

  I whispered, “Look, I’m sorry. I thought…” But before I could finish, he was gone in a flash, using vampire speed to leave me there.

  “What the…?” I kicked the car, denting the rear panel.

  I felt blindsided, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Had he just asked me to have a relationship with him? I kicked at the ground, replaying the intense look in his eyes and his words in my mind.

  He’s very low on blood and not thinking clearly, a part of me whispered.

  No! He’s just a jerk! A muscle-bound jerk!

  I drank the blood bag in one gulp before slamming the trunk closed.

  Dressed in a new shirt, I walked over to the restaurant. Karsten may wonder what I was doing, but he could suck an egg for all I cared.

  Opening the door to the barbeque joint, I looked around. The air conditioning hit me like a brick wall, and I exhaled in relief. Even in springtime, the Texas heat was nothing to blink at.

  This was where the calls were made from.

  I stepped up to the ordering counter. It was a little past 3 p.m., and only a few customers lingered. A tired-looking young man smiled at me and came to the register. “What can I getcha ma’am?” He asked.

  I pulled my long hair to the side before speaking. “Hi, I was wondering if you’ve seen this man?” I held up my phone with the picture of the Butcher on it.

  He eyed the picture. “He your grandpa or somethin’?”

  I smiled. “Something like that. It looks like you know him.”

  “Sure do, funny accent? He’s been coming in here all the time lately.”

  “I thought so, he loves barbeque,” I told him with a smile on my lips.

  “Comes in almost every day since last week.”

  “Does he come in with anyone?”

  “Yeah, a young girl. She doesn’t look like you though. She’s one of those people that you can’t tell what race she is. Kind of dark-skinned but not...” I could tell he was trying to be politically correct but I got distracted by a whiff of his blood.

  His skin gave off a crisp fragrance, and the freshness of his scent hypnotized me. Taking some deep breaths and counting, I shook myself out of the beginnings of hunger.