by Kiki Howell
“You disappear during hunts; you don’t attend Seethe meetings. You’re preoccupied. I’d almost think you’re avoiding me.” He dragged his gaze back to hers, as he took a step toward her.
“And then I find you here, obsessing over some human.” He spat out the final word, as if it were tainted blood. “You seemed to have formed an unnatural attachment to this creature. Why? What draws you to him, over and over, night after night?”
Natalya looked up at him in alarm, and with sudden anger. “Have you been spying on me?” She sunk her fingernails into her palms, in an effort to keep from striking out at him. “You have no right to spy on me. You are not my keeper, or anything else to me.”
His lip curled in a sneer. “You’ve spurn my advances at every turn, Natalya.” His lip curled further, and he bared his teeth at her, his attempt at a smile, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I was worried about you. I truly was. I wanted to see what consumed your attention, what was preventing you from devoting that attention to me, attention I more than deserve. I wanted to know what was occupying your time, and now I know.”
“You arrogant bastard!” Her voice was a whispered hiss. She would have launched herself screaming at Gabriel, if it weren’t for the man at the water’s edge. “My interest in this human has nothing to do with my lack of interest in you. Even if he and every other mortal or vampire in this world were gone, and you were the only one left, I would still refuse you.”
“You’re infatuated with him. It’s unnatural, it goes against everything we are.” Suddenly Gabriel’s eyes widened. “This human has done something to you, used some kind of magic on you, cast a spell or used a potion.” There was genuine horror in Gabriel’s voice. “You’ve been poisoned by this whelp.” He pushed roughly past Natalya, heading toward the lake, toward the man.
Cold fear gripped her heart. “What are you doing, Gabriel?” She rushed past him, and grabbed his arm, spinning him toward her. He glared at her, his eyes glowing crimson.
“I’m getting rid of the filth that blinded you, that has taken control of your mind.”
“But he’s done nothing to me. He’s done nothing wrong. He’s innocent. You can’t...”
Gabriel curled his lip. “Humans are nothing more than cattle, destined only to feed us. It matters not whether they are innocent or guilty, good or evil. That’s your bizarre twist on the world, not mine. Now step aside.” He shook free of her hand, but she grabbed him again, fingers twisting in the fabric of his cloak.
“You can’t, Gabriel, no!” she hissed.
“I said step aside.” He struck out, backhanding her across the face. The force of it sent Natalya smashing to the ground, stars winking in front of her eyes, the entire world spinning. She was dimly aware of Gabriel moving past her. A strange rushing noise filled her head, the world fading.
The cry of the man cut through the fog, and she rose, shaking her head.
“No!” She ran toward the lake, eyes fixed on Gabriel, on what he was doing. An inarticulate noise rose from her throat, somewhere between a moan and a scream.
Gabriel cradled the human in his arms, fangs deeply embedded in the man’s neck. His eyes were glazed, his lips parted—already sliding into a stupor, as his blood was drained from him.
“Gabriel, no! Please!” She fumbled among her long skirts, finally managing to pull out the silver dagger tucked on the top of her boot, and she lunged at Gabriel. The knife sliced the side of his neck, above the collar of his tunic. Blood welled from the wound. She could have easily beheaded him in one stroke, and ended his existence right then and there.
The desire was strong, but she held back, her arm raised above her head. It was wrong to kill Gabriel. She’d bring down the wrath of her Seethe, if she beheaded another member.
Gabriel roared in pain, tossing the human aside in a heap on the sand. He stumbled to his feet, hands flying to his neck. Dark blood seeped between his fingers, as he glared at her, the body of the mortal lying between them.
Natalya rushed forward to attack him again, bloody knife singing through the air. Gabriel sidestepped her, and it ripped through his tunic, slicing him just below the collarbone.
“Enough!” Gabriel roared, hands up, backing away from her. His eyes blazed with hatred, and a chill ran down Natalya’s spine. “You would kill one of your own kind, in defense of a single human life?”
Natalya tossed her head. “His life is worth ten of yours, Gabriel. You are a soulless monster. He is an innocent.”
“And you think you’re any different, Natalya?” Gabriel whispered, clutching his bleeding neck. “We are vampires! It is in our nature to be soulless.” His eyes narrowed. “How many humans have you killed? Lusted after their blood, stalked them, cornered them, loved every minute of the hunt...of drinking the lifeblood from their warm bodies. You’re a hypocrite, if you think we’re different from each other.”
His words cut her to the quick, and she took a step back. “I may not have chosen to be a vampire, but I can choose whether or not to be a monster.” Natalya clenched her hands at her side in an effort to control their trembling.
Gabriel stepped back, shadows of the night drawing around him, until all that was visible were his eyes, glowing red in the darkness. He held her gaze for one long moment.
“This isn’t over...” he hissed, and then vanished.
Natalya hesitated, staring at the spot where Gabriel had been, but he was truly gone. She turned back to the man, who lay face up on the edge of the lake, terribly still, and deathly pale in the moonlight. She sank to her knees in the damp sand, her fingers fluttering over his face and down his neck, checking for a pulse.
“Oh God, please don’t let him be dead.” She didn’t want to live with the knowledge that if she had simply kept her distance, he would be alive. How could she have been so blind to Gabriel, to the threat he posed? She was foolish, and her foolishness may have cost this man his life.
Her fingertips slipped through the blood coating his neck, until she finally managed to find a pulse. He might live. He might make it through this. His death would not be on her conscience—for who else’s conscience would it rest upon? Gabriel certainly didn’t have one, as he’d proven by his actions tonight. He’d struck her, and then he’d tried to kill a man. And he’d tried to make it seem like it was all for her benefit.
Sighing, she gathered up the man in her arms, and wrapped the shadows around them both so she could fade away, back to her cottage. He would survive, she’d see to it herself. She’d care for him, tend his wounds, and do whatever she could to somehow make this better.
She only hoped that when he woke, he wouldn’t hate her for what he was about to become.
CAINE DRIFTED SLUGGISHLY in and out of dim consciousness. He didn’t know who he was, where he was, or why he was, only that he was lost, in a seemingly never-ending swarm of dreams and images, his body wracked with chills and fever, with indescribable pain.
The only moments of respite were when the darkness claimed him completely, offering him brief oblivion. Or when a beautiful woman hovered over him, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead, wiping the stinging sweat of the fever from his eyes. Angel or devil he didn’t know, but he ached for her in those moments, rising from the depths of his delirium at her soft and gentle touch.
Then the dreams claimed him again, and he could never quite remember exactly what she looked like, or the color of her eyes, or the color of her hair. The only images that stayed in his mind were of her full, red lips, the words of comfort that she spoke, carried to his ears, on a voice of satin. That image of her, and the sound of her voice, were the only things that allowed him to cling to his sanity.
Those two images, and the taste of something indescribably sweet. He wanted more, wanted to drink of whatever it was, to feed deeply, but it was all too fleeting a taste, there for a moment, and then gone. He’d drift back into turbulent sleep, somehow calmed for a moment, somehow sated, the fever held at bay for a short time.
In
his dreams, she came to him, whispering to him, touching him with her cool fingers, with her lips. He wanted to reach for her, feel the softness of her skin against his body, and crush his mouth against hers. But no matter how he tried, she was just out of reach, hovering on the edge of his dreams.
He had no idea how much time had passed, nor did he care. All he wanted was to hear the sound of her voice, to taste the warm richness of whatever was put in his mouth. And for this seemingly relentless torment to finally end. He sank into a sleep that was more like surrender, giving into whatever sickness was consuming his body, and taking control.
Then the voice was there again, clearer this time, the same warm voice, now humming an unfamiliar, but strangely soothing, melody. His eyelids drifted open, and he turned toward the voice that had been his anchor through the torment of his internal storm.
She was standing by the window, and she continued her quiet humming. He watched, as she slid an ivory-handled brush through long unbound layers of silky black hair that shimmered in the candlelight. Her eyelids were half-closed, long lashes fanning across her pale cheeks. His eyes traveled over her face until he came to her mouth. Those deep red lips were unmistakable. It was her, the woman who’d been with him through this ordeal.
She wore a long crimson dress, with a high neck and long sleeves, demure in its cut, yet molded to her body in a way that made it clear she was a young woman. His eyes traveled over her body, her high, round breasts, long, slim torso and flared hips—a perfect hourglass.
His body reacted, a high sweet rush of passion, displacing any and all rational thought. Pulling his eyes away from her, he reproached himself. He didn’t even know this woman. For that matter, he didn’t even know where he was, or how he’d gotten here. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows.
Sudden memories of being attacked by the lake filled his mind—the terror he felt, as white fangs flashed before him, followed by the heat of those fangs sinking into his flesh.
He bolted upright, breathing hard, panicked hands going to his neck. The woman turned quickly toward him, black hair swirling around her face. With a sense of unreality, he saw those eyes were pitch black—the iris nearly indistinguishable from the pupil. Even through their inky blackness he thought he saw concern, but that didn’t stop a chill from sliding down his spine.
“Are you all right?” she asked, instantly by his side, soft hands smoothing the hair from his forehead.
“Who are you? Where I am? This isn’t my house...you’re not one of my people.” Caine looked around at the room, suddenly aware of the opulent furnishings, the satins and silks on the bed. He’d never seen so much wealth in his life.
She hesitated. “My name is Natalya. I rescued you after you were... attacked, and brought you to my home, to care for you until you recovered.”
Those fangs flashed in his mind’s eye again, and a shudder wracked his body. His fingers went the spot on his neck where he’d been bitten, but he felt no pain, found no wound—not even any scarring.
“The bites on your neck...you’ve healed very quickly.” Natalya smiled, but it was tempered by the uncertainty swimming in her eyes. “It’s a power you’ll have. It’s part of ...”
Caine scowled, cutting her off. “Bite? What...or who bit me?” He tried to ignore the cold, heavy sensation that had slipped into his stomach. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her answer.
Natalya sighed, sitting down on the bed, and taking his hand in hers. Her skin was soft, softer than anything he’d ever felt, cool to the touch. Unbidden, another shiver ran through his body, not a shiver of fear, but of something else. His mind was suddenly filled with images from his dreams, of her kissing him, touching him...more than just brushing the hair from his face, or wiping the sweat from his brow. He shifted uneasily in the bed, arousal heating his body.
She was talking to him now in an earnest voice, and he drew a deep breath, pushing the sensations aside. It was wrong, very wrong, to feel like this about her. He focused on her words.
“I know this is hard to accept, but I speak the truth. You were bitten by a member of my Seethe. His name is Gabriel, and he is nothing but a ruthless monster. And you do have incredible powers now, one of which is the ability to heal rapidly.”
Caine stared at her, nothing she said making any sense.
“I stopped him from draining you, but you will be weak for several days, perhaps even a fortnight or longer.”
“I was bitten by a man?” He shook his head, willing her to say anything, but what he knew she was going to say. She hesitated, and Caine’s apprehension grew.
“No, not a man. He’s a...he’s a vampire.” She hesitated again before dropping her eyes. “He’s a vampire like me.”
His mind snagged on the word vampire. They did not exist, could not exist. They were the stuff of fairy tales and myths, created to scare small children—or wayward adults—to keep them from straying out after dark.
Caine snatched his hand away, cold fear sinking into his very bones. “You are a vampire, like the creature who attacked me?”
She parted those red lips in a smile that was tinged with sadness. He glimpsed impossibly large incisors gleaming in the candlelight. “I am, but you are in no danger from me.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, this is not possible. I cannot stay here. I cannot stay with you.” Natalya rose, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and lurched to his feet. The world swam around him, and his knees threatened to buckle.
“Then I’m like him, like you...I’m a vampire as well.”
Natalya caught him around the waist before his strength failed him completely, and lowered him back onto the bed. “I told you that you would be weak. We’ll talk when you’re stronger.” Her voice was soft, as she tucked the blanket over his body. “Please, rest for a bit. You need rest.”
As she spoke, her voice changed, became slow and thick, and he looked up at her, his eyes unfocused. In the dim room, her face blurred, shimmered. He blinked. Her eyes were glowing red, unless he was dreaming again. But no, the vile woman was using some kind of trickery to compel him back to sleep, and he was powerless to fight her. His mind went blank, his thoughts slipping away before he could grab hold of them.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered in his ear, as he slid helplessly into sleep once more.
Chapter Two
NATALYA WANTED TO cry. The man’s eyes had been filled with such fear and loathing, that she’d barely been able to face him. This was all her fault. She should have stayed away from him. Vampires and humans lived in separate worlds, and she had had no right to intrude on his life in any way, even to watch him from afar. Because of her childish infatuation, he had been at the edge of death, and now was forever changed, thrown into a life he had not asked for.
Blinking back the tears, she left her cottage, stepping out into the soft night. She’d given him drops of blood while he was unconscious, patiently dipping her fingers into the warm liquid and placing them into his mouth. But he’d need more than just the drop or two and soon, or the bloodlust growing in him would drive him insane. Natalya lifted her head, scenting the night sky. There was a rabbit in the bushes at the edge of the forest. With a heavy sigh, she moved silently toward it.
She held the rabbit, watching the blood drain into a cup. He’d be able to drink it now, on his own. It would be a beginning toward healing.
With a start, it occurred to her she didn’t even know the man’s name. There had never been a way to ask him before the attack, not that she’d have risked showing herself to him. And then, after the attack...well, there hadn’t seemed to be the right moment to ask. The moment had passed.
When she entered his room, she found him still sleeping, his dark blond lashes resting against his sharp cheekbones. His features were chiseled, but his lips, which were slightly parted, lent him the look of an innocent. A smile tugged at Natalya’s lips, as she set the cup of fresh blood down on the bedside table, then settled down beside him on
the soft mattress.
As she watched him sleep, her heart suddenly swelled with a longing, strangely familiar, but foreign in this place. Every sense was attuned to him, and she had the desperate desire to slip into the bed beside him. She imagined smoothing the hair back from his forehead, as she’d done before while he slept, wrapping her arms around him, his head resting on her shoulder.
But her mind didn’t stop at that simple act of comfort. The longing went deeper, a rush of heat flushing her face. She wanted to run her hands over the wonderfully shaped muscles of his arms, his broad chest. Biting her lip, she tugged the sheet down, revealing his bronzed chest, taut muscles rippling along his torso.
She’d come to him, as he’d moaned in his sleep, laying a hand to his forehead. But she’d seen how he’d moved on the bed, how his hips shifted beneath the sheet. It took all her strength to drag her eyes away from his body. It was inappropriate for her to think of him in this way, while he was defenseless and unaware. She pulled the sheet back up over his chest, embarrassment still staining her cheeks.
Sighing, she reached out and touched his face gently, a shiver running up her arm at the feel of his hot skin against her cool fingers. “Your meal is ready,” she murmured, willing him to wake.
His eyelids fluttered before opening, his green eyes unfocused at first, and then piercingly brilliant and bright. His nostrils flared, as he caught the scent the blood, much like an animal might, then turned toward the bedside table.
“What is this?” he asked. He sat up, and she handed him the cup. He took an experimental sniff, wrinkling his nose. His face blanched. “This is blood.”
“It is.”
“And you expect me to drink this?” He took another sniff, shoving the cup toward her.
“I know this is hard.” She gently pushed the cup back toward him.
“You said we’d talk. I won’t touch this until you explain who, or what, I’ve become.” He pushed the cup back a little more forcefully, and a drop of crimson liquid spilled onto the blankets. “I’m a vampire, aren’t I?”
