Just an animated corpse I feel something for.
I pull up on the stake with all my might, Faye’s voice whispering in my ear reminding me that I could become the enemy. I drop the stake down on my floor, looking at the open wound in his chest, and feel something crack open in my mind.
Chapter 8
Vincent is running through the woods with the hunting party on his trail like a deer chased by hounds. I’m flying along with him, but not really there. Two hunters have found his resting place and came just as the sun set. Typically, they do not hunt in pairs, but for some reason, there are two of them. One a trainee; at least that is what Vincent thinks, and for some reason, I’m privy to his thoughts. He is calculating, thinking of the best way to get away. He could turn and slaughter the hunters, but there needs to be a balance. I don’t quite understand what he means by that, though, because all of his thoughts are fleeting. But there is something that keeps him from fighting. I tried to dig to find it but find only the overwhelming, primal need to run.
Suddenly there is nothing but pain, a bright flash of it overwhelming all my thoughts – no, Vincent’s thoughts. Yes, one is fresh, untrained. He has missed Vincent’s heart. The vampire is not going to die that night. The pain in his chest, I can feel it acutely, I can wrap my hands around it. If he could just concentrate enough, he could vanish from the hunters’ vision, find safety, but he is not sure where the haven he’s hoping for could be.
He grabs a branch and swings up into a tree. The hunters have guns out; they shoot at him, but the bullets are easy to dodge. I watch them soar towards him – towards me – as if in slow motion. Vincent jumps down and kicks the weapons from the two hunters in a fluid motion, the aim of the kick perfect. Perfect, but too hard: I listen to the crunch of bones as Vincent breaks one hunter's hand. It is so loud in my ears. I am so thirsty, so tired of running. If I move too much, I know I will die. I should kill them, kill them both and be done with it, but I can’t.
Vincent’s thoughts, not mine. He moves quickly and slams the two hunters’ heads together. Maybe too roughly, he isn’t sure. There is another crack, but there is no time to stop and think about the repercussions. If the hunters are dead, they are dead. No reason to weep, no reason or time to take them to a hospital. Vincent is trying to convince himself of that as he starts to flee from the woods. There’s so much blood. His mind turns inwards, his mind turns towards me, but he can’t see me as he runs. The world a blur around us; I think we might be in the city now, but he moves so fast I can’t keep up. Now his thoughts are on getting to me, in hopes of debts being repaid. I try to touch real feelings other than these primal instincts. So hungry – so much agony. Vincent tries to pull at the stake, but he can’t get it out. It’s purified, holy; only human hands can pull it free. Only Amy’s hands, my hands.
My hands have dropped the stake on the floor as I zoom back into my body. Vincent is staring up at me, and I can still feel his thirst. It is more than that. If he doesn’t get some sort of substance in his body he will die. He’s dying in front of me.
“What do you need?” I whisper, but I know the answer already. I find myself in a trance leaning forward towards him. He rises up from the bed, and I feel a sharp pain in my side when he does. I cry out.
“You’re in my head,” he says. It strains him just to speak. I don’t want him to talk or even think. It’s a mad house in his brain, in my brain. My head burns, my thirst is so intense. I want blood. No, I don’t want to drink his blood. I look at it and feel queasy. I know he wants mine.
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. I don’t remember sitting down. I’m leaning towards him. I can feel my heart pounding; I can hear my own pulse. Or he can. “Will it hurt?” I whimper. He’s reaching towards me with those blood-soaked hands. I can’t help but feel a little scared.
“No,” he breathes against my neck. I feel his teeth graze my throat, and a shiver goes up my body. Part of me is screaming not to do this, but it is being drowned out by that thirst. I inhale deeply as his fangs pierce my skin, feeling a sharp pain before my breath comes out a moan. The pleasure starts in my toes and begins to warm up my body. The thirst vanishes, replaced with another need, a deep need I’ve never felt before. I climb closer to Vincent, and he pulls me into his arms. I feel the blood soak my dress, but I don’t care. I want to be closer to him. My mind finds the peace I never knew could exist while my body aches against him. It’s almost as good as sex, but it’s something else. It is like my cells are on fire with pleasure, the blood is rushing out of me, and I’m getting high. All my worries, my fears, my heartache they’re disappearing as Vincent drinks from me. I don’t want him to ever stop and that thought should alarm me, but it doesn’t. It feels like ages that we have locked in that bloody embrace, all the pain gone, before I feel the fangs pull out and find myself crying.
“Amy,” Vincent says my name, and I stare down at him in a daze. I’m no longer in his head. He turns my head towards him and kisses me full on the mouth, I can taste my blood, I run my tongue against a fang. Our lips melt together like our minds did. I feel drunk on something I can’t control, that I don’t want to control.
I break the kiss and stare down at him. My room is a mess with his blood, I’m covered in it, but I watch in pure fascination as his skin begins to mend itself where the hole once was. I look down at Vincent, and he seems more beautiful as if his skin is glowing. I run my hands through his tangled long blonde hair. I want him so badly it hurts.
“Amy.” He says my name again, and I try to focus on him. He sits up further on the bed, and I’m suddenly in his arms being carried towards the shower. It feels so right to be with him. I hear him turn the shower on, and he starts to undress me. I let him tug the dress off me, unsnap my bra, pull down my panties. Then he opens the door to the shower and pushes me in.
It’s freezing cold water; I scream out of pure shock, as my brain seems to be awakened by the water. I place my hand against the door to get out, but Vincent holds it shut. I go back under the cold water, shivering, but it is doing something else as well. I watch as blood washes off my body, and my mind – still foggy – begins to operate more rationally. Then I start to shake. I just let Vincent bite me. My hand goes up to my neck, and I start to panic. That’s when he opens the door with a towel and wraps me in it. My teeth are chattering, but I’m no longer in that strange state of delirium. I would so much rather be there.
“I’m going to wash the blood off,” he murmurs. I sit on the toilet and nod my head. I watch him undress. His torso is covered in drying blood, the shirt he wore is inevitably ruined. I lick my lips as I admire the form in front of me. Then he is gone into the shower, washing off the blood, allowing me time to think about what just happened.
Faye was right; the hunters would never fully accept me. I couldn’t be one of them. And to Awaken would be very dangerous. But what just happened with Vincent? Why was I suddenly back with him in that memory? What had I felt, melting into his arms like that?
He comes out of the shower and stares at me. He slowly wraps a towel around his waist and I can’t help but stare at the muscles of his hips that lead down to…No. Amy, get your head on straight! I shake away those thoughts and try to glare at him.
“My apartment is all bloody again,” I say.
“My apologies, I’ll clean it all up,” he says standing there in that towel.
“What do we do now?” I say, trying to ease the awkward tension that is building in the room.
“You eat, I’ll clean, and then I’ll be gone.” The way he says it sounds like a final goodbye. My chest clenches, the puncture wounds on my neck burn. I stare at him there draped so casually in my towel. I don’t have Damon, I’ve pushed my friends away, and here he is, my last connection to the world of nightmares, and I don’t want him to go.
“No, you’re going to stay,” I say with as much sternness as I can muster.
“You know I can’t. The dangers, Amy, think of the risks.”
“T
hey’ll come for me if you stay or if you go, and I’ve got questions.” I’m nearly shouting at him.
I can’t read his expression, but he nods and walks out of the bathroom. I stay, catching my breath as I try to figure out what my next step is going to be. Then I remember Damon saying to live in the moment. Alright, one moment at a time. I hear Vincent rummaging in my kitchen and stand, finding non-bloody clothes. I smell food being cooked and see Vincent is making the steak that I had thawed in the fridge. A new type of hunger hits me as I walk a bit weakly into the kitchen. He’s taken nutrition from my body, and I need to replace it – fast.
“You need to put on clothes,” I say to him as I take a seat.
“My shirt is ruined. It will just be trousers,” he says not looking at me. Before I know it, I have a rare steak plopped down in front of me. He hands me a knife and fork, but I just pick it up with my hands. It melts into my mouth, and I tear into it like an animal. What is wrong with me? I find myself lapping up the bloody juice then stare at Vincent accusingly as he watches me.
“What did you do to me?”
“I’m not sure, I’m trying to figure out what you did to me,” he says slowly. Then he disappears from my sight, just melts away, reminding me how non-human he is. I find a glass of water and drink it, feeling some of my strength I didn’t know I was missing coming back. I hear my bed sheets being ripped off my bed, I hear him looking through my closet to find a new set. The sounds are coming so fast it is like a tornado is in my room trying to fix it up.
“Just sit still for a while,” I hear him whisper, right beside my ear. I shiver. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. I watch cleaning supplies disappear from under my sink and the blood being furiously washed from my balcony door, which is gleaming in an instant.
“Seems like you’re a pro at cleaning up messes,” I call out to him. I hear him grunt some response. I test my legs, and I can walk to my couch. A more comfortable spot to sit as I watch all traces of Vincent being here disappear, being replaced by the firm smell of Clorox bleach. I’m almost too tired to care.
“I’ll get you new sheets and covers to replace the lost ones,” he says, suddenly in front of me with just a pair of slacks on, his blonde hair still a tangled mess but looking gorgeous around his face.
“You didn’t kill those hunters,” I say.
“I hope not. They’re like ants. If you kill one, the entire colony shows up,” he says taking an arrogant pose against my wall, leaning back with his hands crossed over his chest. “I didn’t think you would be here,” he says.
“I’m not with Damon anymore.” I look down at my hands.
He moves to the couch to sit beside me. When I meet his eyes, I see something spark in them. I move away from him even though part of me wants to crawl into those arms. Vincent is watching me carefully.
“Pretend to breathe,” I say.
He takes a breath and looks a little more human, even though I can’t get the image of him lying, impaled, on my bed quite out of my brain yet.
“You’re glad you didn’t kill them?”
“We need hunters,” he says. “It keeps our numbers down, keeps the balance.”
“They almost killed you,” I say.
“I know.”
“And you’re not angry about it?”
“I’m not dead,” he says. Suddenly he goes all mysterious on me. I try to get into his head again. Placing two fingers on the side of my temple and staring into him. How did I do that before?
He starts to chuckle. “You look ridiculous.”
“I was inside your head,” I say.
“That’s troubling. You shouldn’t be inside a vampire’s mind,” Vincent says, leaving unspoken the rule that he should be in mine.
“Vincent, I have so many questions—”
“You need to rest,” he says. “There will be time for questions tomorrow. Your bed is made, and I got the blood out of the mattress.” I raise my eyebrows. I want to ask him how, but I don’t. He continues to speak. “You won’t have any nightmares tonight.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I took a lot of blood from you. Not enough to kill you, but more than I should have. You’ll probably need to sleep for at least half the day tomorrow,” he says.
“I have work,” I say.
“Then text your boss that you won’t be in tomorrow because you’re sick,” Vincent says as he stands up. He moves to pick me up, and I squeak. He walks too fast to my bedroom. The world starts spinning until he lays me on the bed with my clean sheets. I see in the corner the pile of bloody ones, along with his shirt and my dress. Somehow, I have a feeling they’re not headed for a trip to the drycleaners.
I know he will not stay. “Where will you go?”
“Somewhere safe before I find a new resting place. I’ll be alright.”
“Will you come back tomorrow night?” I ask.
He stares at me, but he is practicing his breathing. He leans down and kisses my forehead.
“I will,” he says. “I’m in your debt.”
“You saved my life; it was only right,” I say.
“Sleep, Amy.” He moves his hand over my eyes. I’m not sure if he actually gets into my mind to force me, but I close my eyes and sleep.
Chapter 9
The sun is high in the sky when I finally rise from bed with a splitting headache. I find some iron supplements in my cabinet I didn’t know I had and a note that says my coffee is already made. My apartment looks as if nothing happened the night before. I find my phone and see that someone has already texted my boss to say I won’t make it to work today. I usually don’t take days off and have enough time built up to probably take a month of leave. I’m not sure how I feel about letting a vampire make all the decisions for me, but I sure don’t feel up to doing much more than being a vegetable on my couch. I think about texting my apologies to all my friends, then think about the amount of blood that was here last night and decide against it.
What did happen last night? I want to call Faye and talk to her about it but remember that hunters are after Vincent; I decide against it. I can figure this thing out on my own – being alone isn’t so bad. I have eaten almost everything in my fridge by the time the sun begins to set, watching the news for any strange activity. The day feels oddly normal, and I’m apprehensive about the night. Not afraid, just unsure. I don’t think it is a good sign that I can get into a vampire’s head.
At least it is the first day I’m not obsessing over Damon. Granted, there are complications there as well. Whatever my connection with Vincent is, it doesn’t seem a healthy substitute for the real, human relationship I have lost. The obvious bite marks on the side of my neck are a testament to that. I remember the woman Vincent bit the first night I encountered him. Her neck had shown no signs of puncture wounds, no marks of any kind, in fact. So why does mine? Maybe it is because of the sheer volume of blood Vincent took from me.
I take a warm shower. I stay in there until my skin prunes, letting the hot water wash away whatever it is I’m feeling. Since it is winter, the nights are much longer. My stomach is tying itself in knots as I wait for Vincent to arrive. I hear a knock on my balcony, making me jump. I’m only half decent. I almost feel as if I’m getting ready for a date. At least I am dressed, but my wet hair needs to be brushed out. I opt to put on some light make-up and leave my hair as is, all the while berating myself for making the effort, and go to open the balcony.
Vincent takes my breath away when he isn’t bleeding in my bed. Tonight, he looks a bit rosy, which tips me off that he has already fed. Or maybe my blood is just extra potent or something, giving him that complexion for longer. It wouldn’t surprise me at this point. His hair is down, falling over his broad shoulders. There isn’t a smile on his face, so I don’t offer him one as I open my door to let him inside. There is still a strange twinkle in his steel-blue eyes, though. There is always a bit of mischief in him, even when he is trying to be extra scary.
“Ev
er thought of using the front door?” I ask.
“When you have a hunter and his friends living in the same building, I find this is the safest route,” he says. Then he is looking me over. He takes the brush from my hand and points to the floor in front of the couch. “Sit. We have much to talk about.”
He sits on the couch, and I find myself sitting between his legs. I try to reach into his mind, but it feels like there is a steel wall around his thoughts. He takes the brush and begins to untangle my dark hair with his fingers, barely using the comb. It feels good, and I find myself leaning back into him.
“You’re no longer with the hunter.” It’s not a question.
“Damon and I can’t see each other anymore,” I say, feeling that pain again.
“You did not want to end things with him,” he says as he runs his hands through my hair. He is playing with it idly. I don’t think he really knows what he’s doing. But then, I could be wrong. Someone as old as he is might have picked up a few tricks. Even Damon knew how to braid.
“Ever heard of the Sisters?” I ask, leaning my head back into his hands. He stops for a moment, and I look up. He is staring down at me.
“Those are women you do not want to get yourself mixed up with,” Vincent replies. He is braiding my hair, after all, I realize with a start. A French braid, by the feel of it.
“Tell me about them,” I say.
Vincent lets out an unneeded sigh and places the brush down. “Do you have a band for your hair?”
I stand up and go to my bathroom. My hair is neatly braided from the top to the bottom. It’s a new look for me. I don’t look delicate, not with the marks on my neck. The hair shows my sharp features, and there is something almost intimidating about it. I like it. I wish I knew how to replicate the style. I quickly tie up the end and walk back into the living room where Vincent is casually waiting for me on the couch.
Fatal Allure Collection Page 17
