by J. A. Saare
"You and me, we're going to give Caleb a present.” Parker smiled pleasantly, striding over and leaning in, hands surprisingly gentle on my face as he pushed several wild strands of hair free from my eyes. His fingers were firm under my jaw and he lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"I'm afraid you won't like it much,” he told me, sounding genuine in his feigned regret. “You'll cry and scream, begging me to make it stop, eventually telling me you can't take it anymore. But I'll show you exactly how much you can take. And when that happens, and you've been wholly broken, I will end your pain."
"I won't beg you for anything,” I vowed rashly, uncaring if it incensed his variable temper.
He was going to kill me. I knew that with absolute certainty. And he wasn't going to be quick about it. My death would be a symbol, a representation of what he intended Caleb to suffer. His pride had been destroyed, and it would only be restored when vengeance was served.
"You will,” he cooed. Careful fingers caressed the skin along my neck tenderly. “I promise."
Unyielding fingers thrust into my hair again, driving me over the bed. My body shuddered painfully as I fell heavily into the waiting carpet, skin and bones aching. I stumbled on liquid legs, attempting to stand upright as the world spun uncontrollably. My disoriented eyes located him across the room, bringing his massive body into focus.
Parker watched me intently while his body shifted, enjoying the fear that widened my eyes and engulfed his nose. His arms bulged as sinewy muscles expanded, chest broadening and jaw distending. His features were a mixture of man and wolf—nose elongated, teeth lengthening, hair sprouting from his body and face—becoming lupine. His growl was animalistic, raw, beastly, and intense.
Nothing in the final days could have prepared me. Not for what was about to happen. Knowledge about things howling at the moon or drinking blood in the night wouldn't save me. I was out of options and out of time; my extended period of luck finally coming to an end.
There was no one here to stand in front of me, no one to protect my too human body from what he intended. I couldn't fight him. I was too weak and too frail, and he reveled in that singular truth.
Yellow eyes gleamed as did perfect white teeth in the soft glow of the lamp light. He prepared to devour me, snapping his lethal teeth and snarling a threat—a precursor. I suppressed a shiver but he could sense my fear as he advanced, ready to do as he promised.
Because I had no other choice, I faced him head on.
His large frame was on me before I could move, slamming my smaller body into the wall and pinning me in place. I gasped, pushing against his infallible chest.
Terrifying teeth snapped at my face, his massive throat snarling as claws tore into the walls on either side of my body. His breath was hot against my cheek and I turned away, closing my eyes, slamming the lids shut.
A painful slap to my face was followed immediately by another. He demanded my attention, snarling in a rage filled voice to open my eyes and look at him. My bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as fear set in. The cackle inside his head sounded demented and wrong, more beast than man.
The half human face pressed against my own and his tongue ran along my cheek. I shuttered in revulsion, flinching away with nowhere to run. The muzzled mouth ran along my neck and then he struck, teeth latching into the flesh of my shoulder. He rattled his head violently back and forth, sinking his teeth in—digging, devouring, consuming.
I screamed in pain, desperate hands reaching for anything, contorting fingers digging into the soft carpet. Something smooth ran under my palm and I stretched for it, ignoring the pain and sounds of razor sharp teeth pillaging tender muscle and flesh. I gagged in realization; the odd gurgling filling my ears was the result of my blood trickling through his mouth and down his throat.
My fingers clutched the silver frame, grasping it. I forced the sharp corner over and down, striking him sharply in the temple. His angry roar was deafening, the sound ripping through my skull.
Teeth tore away from my skin and I scurried away, slipping on the bloody wall and floor as I sprinted for the stairs. Loud thrashing from behind filled my ears and suddenly I was air bound, my body traveling head first down the descending stairs. I rolled the distance, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen, my body limp and broken.
"You little bitch!"
Parker's face was human once more. A thick line of blood ran from his temple and down his chin, along the line of his scar. His teeth remained longer than normal, his throaty voice still too deep to be human. He grabbed my hair at the nape, lifting me from the ground. His fingers forced themselves into the shredded skin at my shoulder and he trapped me against the wall.
"Beg,” he demanded, pushing his thumb into the jagged edge against my collar bone, slipping inside the freshly constructed hole. Blood gushed out, dripping down my shirt and chest.
"Please,” I cried out, the pain too intense to hold back any longer. I could feel his finger repositioning deep into muscle, almost near the bone.
"Please what?” he whispered in my face, twisting his hand, his thumb disappearing further into my body.
"Please stop!” I wailed in agony.
The metallic smell of blood lined my nose and he laughed happily. The sound was so out of place within the confines of what was occurring, as if he were watching a beloved family film. I whimpered in misery when his fingers slipped free, breaths coming out in pained gasps. He licked each clawed finger clean, closing his eyes and savoring the thick red fluid as if it were fresh honey. My neck, chest, and back were wet and slick, warm blood oozing freely along my skin.
"Mmm.” He licked his lips, tracing the contours of my face with bright gold eyes. “Does the rest of you taste this good?"
He opened his mouth and ran his tongue along my neck and upward, his body pressing flush against mine.
"NO!” I thrashed violently, punching and kicking the brick wall of his body, trying to dislodge myself. “Stop!"
"Invite me in!” An unknown voice bellowed through the door just behind us and Parker turned swiftly, dropping me to the ground.
Without thinking, I screamed, “Come in!"
The door crashed open, wood splintering and hinges cracking with the impact. Parker lunged at a man I'd never seen before, snarling viciously. The black trench coat surrounding him flared out, encircling them in a dark cloud when they collided. Parker's body and face started to shift, his arms and bones cracking into place.
"None of that,” the man said smoothly, thrusting a hand under Parker's chin and shoving another into the base of his skull, twisting and turning abruptly. An audible snap filled the hallway and Parker sank to the floor.
Trembling took over, teeth chattering loudly in my ears, blocking out any other sounds. I focused on the splintered hinges in the doorframe, thinking the tattered pieces looked like frayed rope. My mind was too far gone to comprehend anything and I allowed myself to drift into a chaotic nothingness.
Minutes passed, seconds ticking by. Every part of me hurt; my shoulder was burning in the places Parker had stretched with his thumb, my head throbbed with each beat of my heart.
Something blocked my view of the door. Large and black, it lifted me, whispering softly, carrying me into the living room.
"You're going to be fine,” the voice promised.
He—it was a man.
He placed me on the couch, arms gentle and cautious. Careful hands ran deftly over my head and shoulder, gauging the wounds and gashes.
Blackness again, swirling to the right—then gone. Something pressed against my mouth, cool and wet. I swallowed the sweet liquid once, twice, and a third time. The fog began to lift and the cool wetness against my lips vanished.
"Where is Sam?"
The terror receded and I lifted my eyes to look at my rescuer. White blond hair was cut short, the longer strands on the top spiked slightly. His skin was pale like ivory and flawless, smooth and clear. His lips were flushed and full, matching his sculpted
face and nose. Black eyebrows and lashes brought out his brightly colored aqua eyes, causing them to pop. I'd never seen anyone with an eye color like it before.
"They—” I had to clear my throat, swallowing again as the sweetness lingered on my tongue. “Went to get food."
"You're a mess, I'm afraid.” He threw the trench coat around my shoulders, enveloping me in the sweet scent of fresh honeysuckle. “But you'll feel better shortly."
"You didn't tell me your name.” My teeth had stopped clacking together, the pain in my body ebbing. I sighed in relief.
"Trent.” He had the trace of an English accent, not completely, just a hint. “Sam told you I'd be coming."
"Yes,” I acknowledged, feeling odd. My body was tingling, my shoulder pain nearly non-existent. I lifted my hand to my chest, frowning in confusion.
Trent observed me perceptively, touching my right hand, placing our palms together. The crackle made me jerk, a connection developing between us like electricity running back and forth.
"What is that?” I looked at our merged hands, the current passing between us felt like a million tiny prickles in the skin. He smiled, lips curving and eyes flashing, and I was mesmerized, totally transfixed.
"Emma!” Caleb screamed from the door, his voice full of rage, panic and despair.
Trent pulled away, severing the contact. The current dissipated, leaving me empty and vacant before I could protest.
Caleb burst into the room with Sam directly on his heels. Trent moved from his place beside me and Caleb's body engulfed it. His frantic eyes raced over my face, fingers gentle as he shoved down the coat. His face recoiled in horror at the sight of my torn shoulder, a howl of fury torn from his chest.
"I'm okay,” I reassured him, strangely calm after the attack, though my voice resonated far away in my ears, “Trent got here before he could hurt me."
"He bit her, Sam,” Caleb growled, both furious and heartbroken, fingers shaking as they examined my shoulder.
Sam rushed to me and glanced down. I couldn't see the wound very well but the edges were sealing shut and the bleeding had stopped.
"Sweet Jesus,” Sam whispered in mortification. He spoke over his shoulder to Trent. “If she's been bitten, she can't leave. We can't be sure how soon she'll change."
"She won't change,” Trent informed them indifferently, leaning casually against the wall.
"She has been bitten, Trent,” Sam retorted heatedly. “I think we would know the outcome."
"Of course,” Trent agreed amicably. “But she isn't your average bite-tee, for lack of a better expression. She won't change, not like this anyway."
"Listen—” Caleb tried to maintain his calm but energy filled the room, rubbing against me, and I gasped.
This time it didn't sting. The hum went past my skin, absorbing into my body, restoring and reviving me. The wound on my neck tingled and I placed my hand against it, feeling the gashes closing under my fingertips. My eyes and mouth gaped open incredulously.
"See.” Trent smiled at me, teal eyes shining. “You can't change her. Not without her permission."
"Start explaining,” Sam demanded.
"It's her blood, obviously,” Trent answered him as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “You always knew our blood was special, Sam. It's the reason we guard our families so carefully. It's why we send you and your hounds of hell to protect them. Although, I must say, Emma will be much happier when she's with me. I won't leave her alone for a dinner break."
"Don't start, Trent.” Sam's eyes burned silver in fury. “You better give me a damned good explanation, and that doesn't cut it."
Trent rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. “You always were daft, missing things directly in front of you, loup-garou."
He strode leisurely to the couch, sitting at my feet; one leg lifted on the cushions, the other on the floor. He smiled and my eyes fixated on his aqua ones, so bright and clear.
My heart began to pound rapidly in my chest, fluttering wildly. Caleb growled and moved closer, pressing his hand into my own. The smell of forest actually cleared my head for once, surrounding me in the comforting scent of pine and grass.
Trent's lip curved slightly at the corner in amusement.
"Emma,” he said formally. “Did you know that your family history spans hundreds of years back? In fact, you can see the family tree if you'd like when we return home. It's all there, our humble beginnings and how it all began for us. I'd like to tell you a story."
He sat back and began, as if reading a child a bedtime story.
"Once there was a normal, average farmer. He was a gentle soul, heartbroken over the death of his young bride just a year before. Each day, after he finished his plowing and tilling, he would visit her grave underneath their favorite tree. He would speak to her of their undying love, of his loss, and how much he missed her above all."
"Unbeknownst to him, someone witnessed his devotion to his lost love. Every single day she would watch and listen. She had never been in love, you see. And she was mystified by this emotion that tied someone so closely to another. In all her years, she'd never experienced anything like it. So every afternoon she'd sit in the tree out of his sight and listen to his sad words. The weeks passed into months, months into a year, and then one day she had an epiphany. She couldn't stop going to spy upon this man, this loving soul. If she tried, it would pain her to no end. You see, she not only learned about love, she was experiencing it firsthand."
"She faced a difficult choice then. Because she couldn't share a life with him as she was, and he couldn't evolve to live as she did. This meant she would have to be the one to leave her life behind. She agonized over it for days, attempting to stay away from the farmer. But her heart won out in the end, and she bid her family farewell and ventured off into the human world, taking her chances with love and mortality."
"And it came to pass that one day the farmer came to his tree to find a beautiful young maiden. They fell in love and married. And one day, the bride was both elated and surprised to discover she was pregnant. It was the first of many children, seven in all she and her husband would have together. But the fairy tale wouldn't last forever. The husband was mortal and she was not. The time came when he was too old to hear and too blind to see. She remained with him until he passed over into the next life. Her children were all grown, some with children of their own, and she was left alone. She made the decision to return to her former life, visiting the twin headstones under the tree to say goodbye. She thanked them for teaching her about love, devotion, selflessness and even heartache. Then she returned to her own people."
"But.” He lifted his finger, eyes intent. “She didn't leave this world behind completely. Her sons and daughters passed pieces of her down through the years, each generation carrying just a touch of her inside them. And it just so happened that one day a vampire met someone with a touch of that blood, and when she turned him, he displayed extraordinary abilities. She took him to her people, and everyone beheld the first trueblood ever created. It was decreed other descendants should be found, and over the years they were. Descendants like me...and you."
He finished and sat back, eyes on me.
"That's a great story,” Sam growled, clearly annoyed and at his wits end. “And what was so special about this blood that was passed down?"
"Only that it came from the most magical of races. A race from the oldest of fairytales.” Trent laughed without humor, shaking his head. “Fairytales indeed."
"I don't understand,” I admitted, twisting my fingers together nervously.
His laughter evaporated, serious once more. “A Fae. The girl who fell in love with the man was Fae. She passed a trace of her magic to each of her children, and they passed it to their children, and so on."
I didn't see Trent move. His hand was just there, encompassing mine. Caleb snarled at him, a humming and energy combined and it bristled across my skin, sinking into my muscles. It built, surging inside, too much at once.
"Stop,” I screeched in panic and fear.
"That,” Trent said, breaking contact and standing up, “Is what I mean. The magic in you has lain dormant all these years. I imagine the first time wolf boy here got too close it awakened everything."
"That doesn't explain why you can change her but we can't,” Sam interrupted.
"It's very close in nature to werewolves. Whereas there is always free will with the two sides. The Fae is a living part of her, and has a voice when choosing her future. The bite could change her if she and the Fae agree to it, but if not, it won't happen. You could bite her in a thousand different ways and it still won't matter,” Trent answered, seeming bored.
"How is she healing so quickly?” Caleb asked, astounded. He traced lines on my shoulder with his fingertips, outlining the healing lesions.
"I gave her some of my blood. That and our little show earlier sped things along. The two forces we emitted together passed through her body, and as it had nothing else to do, it tended her injuries."
"You did what?” Caleb thundered, indigo eyes shifting color in his fury as his attention diverted to Trent.
They began to bicker back and forth but I didn't hear them, one thought barreling through my mind as I touched my lips. That was the cool sweetness I'd tasted earlier, that delicious wetness that clung to my throat and mouth.
Trent's blood.
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Chapter 18—The Most Important Thing
The person reflected in the bathroom mirror looked the same. Her dark wavy hair was damp from the shower; her pale throat faintly bruised. The eyes peering back were an all too familiar hazel.
The brutal attack transpired just a couple of hours beforehand, yet my shoulder was scabbed over, the wounds completely closed. I touched my scalp. The cut there was also mending, the closed flesh no longer tender.
