“They don’t give a shit about who went to college, so there was something else going on there. So fucking spill it,” Donovan said. “I want to know about you. My friend. My compatriot. The only remaining piece of ass.”
“I’m going to kill you.” Donovan was the second man to whom Emily had made that promise. The first one was still alive, but he hadn’t been conscious since the night before Emily dropped out of school. Donovan was just another predator, not worthy of her secrets. Emily leaned forward. “That’s all you need to know about me.”
Donovan opened his mouth, and the lights went out.
Vlad could still taste the intern. The hard part about being on the show was all the restraint it took. The purity of the relationship between a creature and his prey was something that was misunderstood in these times. So, Vlad was forced to feed sparingly, leaving them alive whenever eyes were watching, depriving hunter and prey of the ultimate experience.
Part of him wished he could drain this one. He felt sure the spill of her blood past his lips would be an exquisite experience. But it had been made clear by everyone that draining a contestant was forbidden. So instead, he focused on the lesser pleasure to be gained from watching her sleep.
Humans liked to make fun of vampires’ fascination with watching people sleep. They didn’t understand how enjoyable it was to contemplate all the things that could be done to a human body without the distraction of screams or worse, insipid conversation. Although, contrary creature that he was, there were other times when he missed the screams, the futile struggles, and the tantalizing reek of fear.
And Emily was lovely. She didn’t give the impression of caring much about her womanly charms, but they were there, rising and falling gently beneath her bra. But even more than that, she seemed like a woman of substance, a woman who could withstand some torture and still be up for sharing a serving girl for supper.
There was a tap on the door. Vlad could smell the blood pulsing through the man from here. They were usually careful not to send humans alone to him. Usually, it was Riley or the other one.
Perhaps, while he waited for Emily to wake, he would have a snack.
Emily awoke stretched out on her bed, brought back to the world entirely by the throb of her pulse in the injured ankle. She tried to hold onto the pain, use it to stoke her rage because rage was always a useful weapon. But she was so tired, and the blood loss wasn’t helping her energy level. And she was going to lose more shortly. Or rather, now.
Vlad was standing by the bed. He was wearing a tuxedo and a cape.
“You look nice,” Emily said and Vlad inclined his head. “You can take someone with you when you poof?”
“I am very old and have many abilities,” Vlad said.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Emily said.
“Is that what you would ask?”
“I would ask if there are any abilities of yours that pertain to me at this moment.”
“I have much control over my fledglings,” Vlad said. “Over how easily they turn. That is why my brethren searched so relentlessly for me when the war broke out.”
“So it won’t hurt?”
“If lack of pain is your measure of success, we would have done well to eliminate you in the first round,” Vlad said. Emily flushed. “Multiple exchanges will strengthen the bond of my blood to yours. Although other exchanges would alleviate the pain you will feel in death.”
“Other exchanges? Like sex?”
“I have given such pleasure to countless lovers, and that is only in the recent years when it has become vogue to worry about such things.”
“That is a really good offer,” Emily said. “But this doesn’t seem like a great time to start a relationship.”
Vlad let out a roar of amusement. “Then you are ready? You know what is coming?”
“We exchange blood. And then I die.”
“Three times,” Vlad agreed. “And then you die. When you come back, you will be your new self and the last challenge will have begun. You will fight to the death once again, and then you will be one of us, or you will be gone.”
“I understand,” Emily said. “Why did you kill Stewart?”
“Moments only remained for that one,” Vlad said. “And none can be sure why I do what I do.”
Emily laughed and wished she hadn’t. Even a bit of movement set her injuries screaming. “You want me to win.”
“What anyone wants pales compared to what you achieve,” Vlad said. “We begin.” He took her head in his hands and turned it to expose her neck. Emily took a deep breath and tried to relax. Her eyes found the ridiculous chandelier hanging above the bed, and she began counting its crystals.
If she had been whole, the pain of Vlad’s fangs penetrating her neck might have bothered her, but compared to everything else her body was dealing with, a couple of practiced punctures were negligible.
“Now you,” Vlad said and Emily’s eyes popped open. Of this whole experience, knowing she had drifted off while Vlad the Impaler sucked on her neck would forever remain the most surprising thing. No wonder so many humans lined up to be donors.
Emily opened her mouth and accepted Vlad’s wrist. He had thoughtfully opened a vein, so there was no need to bite. She latched on and sucked. Vlad’s blood wasn’t the same as the humans’. She could feel her body thrum in response. The more she drank, the more the thum intensified until she felt she was vibrating from within.
The thrum faded when Vlad drank from her the second time, and she nearly fainted from relief when his fangs sunk through her flesh yet again.
She felt she might shake apart from the vibrations that shook her when she tasted her maker’s blood for the third time, but to an onlooker she would have already appeared to be dead. There was a peak after which the thrumming faded away, and she noticed her pain had faded away and then finally her consciousness went as well, and Emily died for a while.
Donovan had been pacing around his room for hours, or if one was going strictly by the clock, for twenty minutes. Emily had disappeared from the sauna almost an hour ago. Donovan had waited for someone to come for him before finally going back to his room. He had tried watching TV, but he couldn’t focus for shit. He suspected the wait was just to fuck with him, but that was ridiculous. They had no reason to screw with the goddamn champion. Punctuality probably wasn’t a thing to creatures who measured their time in centuries. He was ready. He was hoping he’d get to fuck Delia, but maybe that would be something better done after he was changed. He didn’t want her throwing him around like he was the bitch.
Donovan jumped when the tap on the door came. He had half been expecting Delia to materialize or fly in as a bat. But when he opened the door, there she was, smiling demurely.
“May I enter?” Delia said.
“Oh, because you can’t come in unless you’re invited, right?” Donovan moved back and waved her inside. “Come in.”
“This Manor is more mine than yours,” Delia said. “I was being polite.”
“Right. Of course.” Donovan bobbed his head at her. What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like Brett. He had been occasionally distracted by Delia’s beauty throughout the competition, but he had never been this close to her. She was perfect. Her skin was flawless, her eyes were the hot blue of a summer sky, and her lips, her lips would be on him and that thought sent all the others scurrying out of his head. The images of him destroying Emily were gone, and all he could do was yearn for Delia’s touch.
“I will drink from you now,” Delia said. Donovan continued to nod. “Then you must drink from me. When you awake, you will be changed, and the last challenge will be upon you. Do you understand?”
“I do.” The last time Donovan had said those words he was marrying Tara, but he said them now with far more sincerity.
“Good.” Delia turned his head with the touch of one cool finger. “Sit.” Donovan fell into the nearest chair. His anticipation turned to panic when Delia’s fangs pierced his skin b
ringing pain instead of the expected pleasure. But she wasn’t savaging him. She drank steadily, and Donovan began to relax. Then her wrist was at his lips, and he drank. Donovan could feel the power building in his veins, that and Delia’s nearness intoxicated him so he put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Delia took him by the wrist and removed his arm, snapping it almost as an afterthought. Donovan was too far along for the new pain to have much of an effect, but before he went away, he experienced a flash of disappointment that things hadn’t gone as he had imagined.
Emily and Donovan, Sitting
in a Tree, _ _ _ _ _ _ _.
thought you were never going to forgive me,” Brad said.
“I haven’t.” Although, Gina had realized Brad wasn’t much worse than anyone else. She ran a hand up Brad’s thigh and snuggled closer. “But I missed you.”
“You’ve been watching, right?” Brad wanted to forestall the possibility of Gina asking a bunch of annoying questions once the finale started.
“Yeah.” Gina was a little embarrassed she’d made such a big deal about what was a pretty entertaining show. After all, the contestants were surely on board, so who was she to quibble?
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” Brad said, and he wasn’t thinking of Gina.
Gina reached for the remote and handed it to Brad. “You do the honors.”
Emily opened her eyes. She reached out to confirm the sense of enclosure and sighed at the knowledge she’d once again been stuffed into a coffin. She realized then it must be dark, but, in fact, she could see the silk lining, a soft peach that was quite similar to the color of her kitchen at home.
Emily hated the color of her kitchen, but there was always something better to do than paint it. Like become a vampire.
“Our contestants will be waking up shortly,” Chaz was saying, and Emily realized she could hear him as though he were sharing her coffin. And she was hungry. She gave an experimental push on the lid of the coffin and found it had been secured.
Outside Emily’s twenty-eight by eighty-four inches of heaven, the audience was chanting.
“Creature fight! Creature fight! Creature fight!”
Emily could smell their excitement. In fact, some of them smelled almost, nearly, definitely like dinner. She suddenly understood why Vlad was always having such a hard time keeping his fangs to himself. Emily smiled in the not-really-dark of her coffin and ran her tongue over her teeth. No fangs. But they would pop out when she needed them surely.
Emily heard something creak nearby. It was the same creak her coffin had produced when she’d tested it. Donovan. He would be beside her, similarly contained, which meant not contained at all, not really. It was time. Emily placed both hands on the lid of her coffin and shoved hard. The lid separated from the coffin completely and cartwheeled over the stage. Emily jumped to her feet and laughed. She turned to throw Vlad a kiss (she could feel where he was without even looking, which was fascinating), and Donovan crashed into her and they both went sprawling across the stage.
Donovan hit the bitch with a flying tackle. Unfortunately, he didn’t fly, but the breadth of his leap made that almost irrelevant. He thought he had a good grip, but she twisted around so she was facing him and bit off his nose.
Yes, the fangs were there when you needed them. All her teeth seemed sharper, or perhaps her jaws were stronger. Emily spat out the nose and almost forgot what she was doing when the hole in Donovan’s face immediately began to close over, and holy shit, he was growing a new nose. Emily extended a finger; she needed physical confirmation. Donovan grabbed her questing digit and snapped it.
Emily snarled and shoved the great oaf away. Donovan sailed into the air and came crashing down on the first row, many of whom now doubted the wisdom of paying extra for those seats. Donovan pushed himself off the hapless audience members and sprang back onto the stage. Emily grabbed him by the arm and spun, flinging him again toward the audience, but this time, his momentum sent him past the first rows and all the way to the altar.
“Bitch,” Donovan hissed.
Vlad flashed his fangs, and Delia put a hand on his arm. “Be still, friend.”
Donovan pushed off the altar and landed on the edge of the stage. Before Emily could fling him again, he sprang across the stage, ripped the lower lid off his coffin, and launched it. Emily caught the lid, but the force of its flight caused her to stagger back, and before she could recover, Donovan was on her. He clamped a beefy hand on either side of her head and spun her around. Emily hung onto the coffin lid and managed to bring it down on Donovan’s skull.
Donovan threw her down. The force of her impact cracked the stage. Emily swept Donovan’s legs out from under him with her own and brought the lid crashing down on his head again. Donovan drew his legs up and kicked her in the stomach, sending her flying upstage where she hit the curtain and disappeared under it when it fell.
Emily was still trying to rid herself of the engulfing fabric when she felt Donovan grab her legs. She managed a good kick, but he came back, and now she was being hefted in the air and slammed down with shocking force. Her face hit the stage, and she felt a fang snap off.
“That is fucking it!” Emily screamed. She was already quite fond of her fangs. The first few rows started to gather their coats and purses in preparation for flight.
“They are very strong now,” Chaz said.
No shit, Cyri thought. She was grateful to her father for cheaping out on the seats. They were something akin to safe in the tenth row.
Yes, very strong now. And perhaps a bit stupid. Emily grabbed the curtain in both hands and ripped it in half. The first thing she saw was Donovan’s boot coming at her face. She caught it and pushed. Donovan’s ass hit the floor and Emily sprang, landing in a crouch over his chest. She jabbed his new nose with her palm and felt it crunch. That reminded her to check herself, and she was pleasantly surprised to find her missing fang had already regrown.
Donovan punched her in the jaw. She tasted blood and then she didn’t. She needed a stake. Emily drew back her fist and brought it down, but before she could connect, Donovan rolled and she ended up on her back with his bulk pressing her into the floor. She wriggled around, so she was face down and heard the smug beast say, “So that’s how you like it.”
Emily leveled her torso up, allowing herself room for a good swing, and brought her fist crashing to the stage. She felt the vibration of the blow beneath her, but the wood didn’t splinter. She heard a crack when she struck the second blow, and the third yielded a visible fissure. Donovan finally realized what she was up to and tried to pull her away. Emily dug her fingers into the crack and pulled, bringing an entire floorboard along with her.
She flipped onto her back and kicked at Donovan again. He was dragging her by one ankle toward the coffins. She broke the floorboard over her knee and flung half of it into the audience. She snapped the remaining half in half again lengthwise and ended up with something approximating a stake. Donovan screamed with rage and threw himself on her. His careless leap would have saved her the trouble, but since they were now chest to chest, she might have impaled herself as well. One never considers how dangerous small pieces of wood are until potentially eternal life comes a-calling.
Emily had moved the stake out of Donovan’s way when he landed on her, and now she tried to bring it around to penetrate the heart from behind. Donovan bit her. Emily stabbed Donovan repeatedly in the back, but since he just kept sucking her neck, she had to assume she wasn’t reaching anything vital. Time for something else. She adjusted her aim and drove the makeshift stake into Donovan’s ear. He released her neck and jumped off her, which was all according to plan, but what came next was not.
Donovan yanked the stake out of his ear and charged. Emily rolled to her feet and skipped back. She almost tripped over one of the coffin lids. She stomped, and the thing snapped into pieces. She snatched the smallest. It was about the length and width of her arm, and then Donovan was on her. She threw up an
arm, and such was the force of Donovan’s rage, the stake went right through it. She yanked her arm away so he couldn’t get the stake back, and part of her reflected that these things hurt just as much as they would have had she still been human. All things hurt the same. She kicked Donovan in the balls.
Donovan had been kicked in the balls more than once; it was a natural consequence of being a philandering misogynist. But he had never been kicked in the balls by a vampire. He went down. But super healing works on even the most delicate parts, and he was ready to come up swinging in three seconds flat. And up he came as Emily thrust down with her coffin lid stake, finally pulling off her stake through the back maneuver and landing her killing blow.
Then Chaz was beside her, carefully prying her fingers off the stake, and the twins were there scooping Donovan off the floor for disposal. They disappeared offstage, leaving Emily with one hand in the air courtesy of Chaz, who was declaring her the victor, the new Creature of the Night. Vlad appeared beside her, so she turned to plant a kiss on his cheek while she wondered how such a fearsome historical figure could be so darling in his bloodthirsty way.
“Like you, I am many things,” Vlad said.
Emily started.
“It is a talent of some of our kind,” Vlad explained out loud. “Although, I have been informed not quite ‘the rules.’”
“So, those were your thoughts in my head?”
“You were lucky to have been chosen by me,” Vlad told her. Still on the altar, Delia hissed at Vlad. “No offense meant to the loveliest of our judges,” Vlad told her.
“I cannot take offense when I am pleased with the outcome,” Delia said.
“Did you break the rules, Delia?” Chaz said.
“I would never.”
Nodin smiled. “We are all pleased with this outcome.”
“It is a pleasure,” Edmund said. “To meet you, Emily.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Emily said. She flashed Edmund a huge smile. It was endearing in the manner of a gap-tooth smile on a child. The audience cheered. “They feel weird,” Emily said. “It reminds me of when I got braces.”
Creature of the Night Page 24
