by Chris Lange
“Are you telling me that I’m in some kind of fourth dimension?”
“No.” A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, in spite of his pain. “We are in your familiar world, never doubt that, but there are other places, dark places. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
“Places with vampires?”
“I come from another world. No humanity, no sun, no life. Only order, uniformity and extinction.”
Caught in the swirl of the conversation, Liv roughly avoided another car coming from the left. Rogan grunted when the sudden jerk threw him against the window. She changed lanes, risking a glance at him.
“How do you survive?”
“What do your legends say?” A weird question, although his interest sounded genuine.
“That vampires feed on blood.”
“Then it must be true.”
She needed answers, and hoped he wouldn’t dodge them. “But if there are no humans in your world, where do you get blood?” As soon as the question came out of her mouth, Liv understood.
“There aren’t many vampires left. Ages ago, one of our scientists discovered a Formula called ‘The Solution’. A drop of blood mixed in that Formula and diluted in water feeds everyone for days. All we need is fresh blood from time to time. A single human and our race can survive.”
Okay, not a heavy toll to pay. Still, as they needed humans to provide them with food, they had to pick them here.
“How often do you come?”
“About once a month.”
One man or woman every month—surely not often enough to alert the authorities and the population about mysterious disappearances. The way Liv saw it, hordes of vampires could go about this business forever without fear of being noticed.
“Why you?”
“Because I’m a hunter.”
Taking her eyes off the road for a second, she glanced at the dying creature of the night.
“You hunt people?”
Rogan nodded. “Yes, it’s my duty. I didn’t choose to be a hunter. I’ve been gifted with the scent.”
“The scent?”
“I can smell the right person just by being close to them. Other vampires, like Khord, don’t have that ability. He’s a warrior.”
Did he mean some people were good to eat and others bad? In his world, did they have five-star restaurants and popular canteens?
“Why do you say the right person? Blood is blood, isn’t it?”
“No. For ‘The Solution’ to be effective it has to be type A blood. All other types are discarded. They aren’t poison to us, but they’re inefficient, not nourishing. In a funny way, most people don’t know how lucky they are. Now, if I’m not mistaken, it’s the same for humans. You need to be compatible.”
He might have been right, even if the comparison sounded a bit gross. Liv had about a million more questions to ask him. Every fibre of her being shrieked that danger and death sat beside her, yet his story captivated her.
Really? Was she being honest with herself? Was she enchanted by the kind of life he led, or by the way he looked and moved? Or by the powerful sensation she had experienced when he had caught her in his arms?
“Where are you taking me?” Rogan asked, his hand pressed on his shoulder wound, his features distorted with pain.
Although unsafe for her, Liv had an idea. Still she had a mile to make up her mind, so she decided to dodge the question for a while.
“I admit I don’t know my blood type, but you told your friend I wasn’t an A. So, why did you attack me?”
“Khord isn’t my friend.” Rogan’s growl sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t ever make that assumption again.”
She kept silent, waiting for the answer.
“I was misled. I was hiding in the shadows when you got to your car, watching you, taking in your scent. At first it seemed you smelt like an A, but not quite, so I decided to clear the matter up. I never imagined you could be pure blood. I realised my mistake too late. Only when I touched your neck and started, well, you know…”
“Killing me?”
“I never intended to kill you.” Rogan’s deep sigh might have been a groan of pain, yet he carried on. “It’s just that unconscious bodies are more convenient to transport.”
This time, Liv didn’t want any more gross details. Maybe later, she’d ask him where he transported bodies.
“Do you often make that kind of mistake?”
“Never. Not once. But how could I have guessed you were the…?” His voice trailed off.
“The what?”
From his tone, she sensed that a vital piece of information was coming her way, like an impending doom. Edgy, hands gripping the steering wheel, she waited until out of the corner of her eye, she saw him subsiding against the window. Rogan had passed out.
When they reached their destination, Liv shook him out of his slumber. Although kind of groggy, he let her help him up the steps before she closed the front door behind them. Once in the foyer, he watched his surroundings, his gaze guarded and wary.
“Where are we?”
“Home.”
As soon as she spoke the words, she felt his body harden against her, and his arm stiffen around her shoulder.
“It’s too risky.”
“Why? Is he coming after me? How is he going to find me anyway? He isn’t psychic, is he?”
“No, but he’ll get help and I won’t last very long. I can feel my strength waning. What will you do with my body?”
He spoke in such a low voice her stomach tightened. Liv had known him less than an hour, and to say the least his intentions remained unclear, yet she didn’t want him to die. Then again, what could she do about it? All she had going for her was positive thinking. Not much in the face of death.
“You won’t die. You just need to rest for a while.”
Rogan grabbed her arm. He might be in agony, but his grip on her still felt strong.
“Don’t kid yourself, there’s no time for that. I’ll be dead in a few minutes.”
As if his words weren’t dreadful enough, he squeezed her arm to hammer his meaning home.
“Ouch! You’re hurting me.”
“Sorry.”
He let go of her arm before taking off his long coat to get a close look at his injury. The bullet had deeply pierced his shoulder, tearing flesh, and the exit wound felt cold to the touch when Liv brushed shaky fingers on it.
When he had crossed the foyer into the living room, Rogan lay down on the couch, his strained expression signifying the end had come for him. White as a ghost, gaze feverish from poison, face contorted with pain, he closed his eyes like a man who had given up.
Obviously, the silver had quickly invaded his body, slaying one of the not-so-immortals in its wake. When Liv approached him, he opened his eyes to take hold of her hand. Back in the parking lot he had been so adamant that she should not touch him, the natural gesture surprised her.
“How come you’re not afraid of touching me anymore?”
“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
He flinched with pain, his body weakening from the deadly poison. His speech quick and ragged, he then revealed his suspicions, all the while holding her hand.
By now, Khord should have guessed who Liv really was, along with the threat she represented to their race. Although he had been defeated for a while, he wouldn’t let it go. He’d come after her because that was his duty as well as his nature. Not only would the thick-headed brute be back to finish the job, but he might also bring back-up.
In spite of his degrading condition, Rogan seemed reluctant to tell her the truth. Considering that she couldn’t figure out what he was talking about, she wondered why. Yet he obviously felt her life had been endangered, and he made a final attempt at warning her.
“Listen to me.”
Subjected to his solemn stare, Liv knelt on the floor right by his side. Their hands joined.
“There is an ancient legend among my race. It says that on the da
wn of Doom’s Day, vampires will rule the world. All the worlds. But a great enemy will stand in their path. He is One and Only. He is named the Bringer of Death. He is pure, invisible, and his touch is lethal.”
Rogan paused. Inhaling with difficulty, he seemed to be summoning his last strength to end the story.
“I’ve never believed in that legend until today.”
Their eyes met, truly connecting for the first time. Shuddering with a sudden feeling of dread, Liv swallowed to ease the tension in her throat. Yet when she heard his statement, the itchy lump sank all the way down to her stomach.
“You are the Bringer of Death.”
Chapter Four
“What are you talking about?” Despite Liv’s usual cool composure, the words dropped out of her mouth like pellets of lead.
“You are the enemy of my race. The One and Only who has the power to wipe us all out.”
Somewhere during the ride back home, the man must have lost his mind. Either that or the silver had had more effect than just killing him.
“You’re mad! How can you say such things? I don’t have any power, I’m just a woman. And guess what…” she added as the thought crossed her mind. “I see my face in the mirror every day, and I’m not invisible.”
Rogan had either fallen deaf or pretended not to hear her protests because he kept going, his intakes of breath coming less and less frequently.
“You’re invisible to vampires. It means your blood has no category, no scent. Of course they can see you, but they are unable to smell you. If you were standing in front of an army of vampires, they wouldn’t take a second glance at you. Only the best hunters could apprehend your true nature.”
As he talked, he stroked her hand with his fingers. She reckoned that he was trying to soothe her, or help her the only way he could.
“That’s why I stayed away from you in the parking lot. I couldn’t recognise your smell. It confused me at first because each human has a blood type and a scent. You didn’t seem to. It was all totally unexpected and intriguing. I had to think fast. I don’t know why this old legend popped into my mind, but it did, and I realised I had touched the Bringer of Death. Beyond a doubt, I was going to die on the spot.”
“Stop calling me that!”
He had gone mad. The poisonous silver must have insinuated into some hidden corners of his brain, rendering him delirious. Whatever he believed in, he had no right to dump his problem on her, and she couldn’t listen to any more of those lies. She might be gullible at times, but not enough to embrace the dying vampire’s delusions.
“That’s enough! I don’t want to hear—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, for Rogan had passed out again. Unmoving as a stone, face ashen, his body lay rigid.
Holy mackerel, he was dead. No, no, he couldn’t be dead, not him. He was too strong, too good-looking to die. That wasn’t meant to be. It could not be. And somehow the fault was hers. Dear Lord, it was all her fault.
Tears brimming in her eyes, Liv gently brushed his hair, her fingers tracing the bridge of his nose, the line of his mouth. Like a priestess from dark ages, she prayed.
Come back, please come back to me.
From the core of her being, something shifted—a colossal force of nature seeking freedom, desperate to be let out. Liv stayed still. She listened to the deep, regular beat of her heart, the slow pulse of her blood, the long whisper flowing in her veins. She kept quiet and expectant while a sudden rush lashed out its power. Then pure instinct took over.
She applied her hand to Rogan’s wound. Eyes shut, focused on a rising, unknown sensation, she felt the force bolting into his body, a tremendous energy penetrating his every fibre. Time stopped. Dizziness loomed over her. Tiredness opened its jaws.
All at once, the force retreated. Worn out and quivering, Liv unstuck her hand. Rogan’s wound had disappeared. She saw skin, intact and healthy, through the bullet hole in his clothing.
She had just healed a vampire.
* * * *
The healing had taken a toll on her. She remembered dragging herself to the armchair, and she must have fallen asleep at some point because she opened her eyes at the sound of his voice.
“You’re so beautiful. What’s your name?”
“Liv.”
Fully awake, the vampire stared at her. She straightened up, glad that she had only lit a small lamp on the table.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel fine.”
Of course he did. After the ‘what in the hell is happening?’ treatment she had given him, death had nothing to do with him any longer.
“Maybe you should rest a little.”
“I don’t need to rest. What I need…” In mid-sentence, he stood up with graceful ease to bring Liv to her feet. “What I need is this!”
As he took her face in his hands, a fiery tremor of desire went through her. She held her breath, waiting for the first intimate touch, the first caress of passion. But he made no move.
He just held her, his dark golden-freckled eyes drilling into hers. Under that unperturbed stare, her heart missed a beat, her insides froze. So close to his masculinity, she felt herself craving for his touch, for the raw feel of him. Still he made no move.
Eyes locked, infused by a hungering thirst, she suddenly relinquished every scrap of rationality she had ever possessed. Human and vampire joining as one? Well, so be it! Ever so slowly, he drew nearer, a fraction of a move—a tantalising instant born from mutual lust.
His lips touched hers, gentle as the soft brush of a bird’s wing. When he pulled back, the longing for him twisted her guts. Frustrated, imprisoned in his embrace, she wished for more, so much more.
His sensual gaze fixed on her. He put his mouth over hers again. She wanted this second to last forever, wanted to melt against his unyielding body. But he started kissing her, his lips awaiting hers, as if in search of her taste. So strong, alien, and unexpected, the sensation took her by surprise, causing her to sway on her feet.
Then she felt his tongue parting her lips, entering, penetrating her mouth. His deep caress shook her whole world. Seemingly impervious to her intense emotion, he reached inside her, opening her up, as if he had all the time in the universe. As if nothing else existed, he kissed her, bringing her towards an abyss of unknown territories.
He dug his hands into her hair, immobilising her head. Heat swelled up in her. Long, hot shivers of excitement blazing hard, her wanton mouth making love with his, their tongues entangled, ensnared. They licked and sucked until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Until she thought she would surely faint from hunger. Passion was becoming their master. Passion was enslaving them, and there was no turning back from it.
He drew away from her.
“Liv!”
Her name on his lips brought her back to reality, and it felt like dropping from heaven. Although he stood inches apart from her, she felt empty, alone in a life without his touch.
“No, don’t stop.”
“Liv, I must!”
She lifted her arms behind his neck to press her body against him. A dark ripple crossed his eyes, a pitch-black shadow from another realm. In spite of his denial, Rogan clutched her with vigorous arms, halting her breath. Whispering through clenched teeth, he looked torn. “You have no idea what you’re asking. You don’t know what I could do to you.”
And he kissed her, the rough kiss of a man swept by desire. He probed her mouth with his tongue, creating vivid, electrifying vibes she couldn’t have thought possible. He was hard against her, captured in the intensity of the moment, his arms feeling like steel around her. Yet she sighed when his hands found the soft curves of her body under her clothing.
He grunted as if her moan unlatched something wild in him. Without a word, he got rid of their sweaters. Muscles tensed, he looked about to go in search of the sensation of bare skin, the feel of her fullness against his chest. But he didn’t take her in his arms, and she felt naked, utterly exposed to him.
<
br /> Seemingly drowning himself in her eyes, he traced the round contours of her shoulders with deft fingers, slipping down her sides, reaching the firmness of her stomach, smoothly rising up to her breasts. She breathed heavily, a scant flush of modesty warming her cheeks.
Standing in the centre of the living-room, only shadowed by the pale glow of the lamp, the vampire caressed her. He appeared riveted to her body, and deaf to anything that wasn’t her.
She moaned when he touched her nipples with tender, slow motions. Pressing, rolling, releasing. Twisting, wrapping, releasing. It was bliss and torment. She had no grip on herself, no handrail to hold onto.
A voracious fever gripped her, carrying her into the furthest recesses of her womanhood. Under his lascivious, slow fingers, her heart leapt, her blood ran, her intimacy pulsed. Right up to the point where she thought she would dissolve, possibly turn to melted cream.
Driven by instinct, she flattened against him, brushing her breasts against his bare chest. Her mouth found his, kissing him with flaming eagerness. He enfolded her tightly in his arms, their lips attuned, their tongues entwined. It seemed the kiss would never cease, never come to an end.
But Rogan recoiled. As abruptly as he had embraced her and pressed her hard against his body, he let her go. Although his eyes were cloudy, he spoke in an unwavering voice.
“We can’t do it!”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“We can’t. That’s all you need to know.”
His implacable tone didn’t leave any room for hesitation. Baffled and speechless, Liv stared at his icy, perfect face, realising his decision had been made. She had never felt so cold.
Chapter Five
Getting dressed had been quick, laced with a good dose of embarrassment on Liv’s part. Standing half-naked before the man who’d almost stolen her thoughts, then pushed her away didn’t call for self-confidence. But what on earth had made him change his mind? Something wrong with her? How could he kiss her so profoundly, then turn away in the middle of it? Could he not see the woman in her instead of the Bringer of Death?
