by SM Reine
Back in Manitoba, I talked all the time about uniting wolves and creating a communication network. What would the purpose of such a network be if not to save packs from fates like the one Raine’s is facing?
Resolve spills through me, clearing my brain for the first time in months. I have no idea what offering myself to Dria will bring me, but I know in my heart it’s the right thing to do.
Now, I just have to convince that stubborn redhead and her husband they need me in their lives. I wonder if dressing in skimpy shorts and a tight t-shirt would do the trick or if I should be my loveable smartass self?
I’ll go for smartass. I don’t think her husband would appreciate the skimpy shorts.
Chapter Ten
Now that I have a plan, I’m reluctant to wait the full two days Rafe suggested. Instead, I trail the couple wherever they go the next day. Surprisingly, they continue to do the tourist thing, venturing outside their hotel and into museums once the worst part of the afternoon sun has past. When the museums close, the couple visits outdoor monuments, lingering again over the new World War II one.
I keep my distance, giving the couple privacy. But Dria knows I’m here, shooting a dirty look my way every hour, discovering my location no matter where I hide. Her advice to calm my surface thoughts seems to have helped my involuntary projection of what I’m thinking. Or at least, I assume it’s helped since she hasn’t tossed my inner thoughts back in my face.
That vampire is unnerving. From what I was told, her kind has to avoid the sun, but she seems to have no problem walking in summer daylight after four o’clock. Could she handle being out earlier or would she still be susceptible to damage at high noon?
The couple’s love for each other is an almost tangible thing. People standing near them smile, and laughter spills from the two frequently. There’s got to be more than a small shred of humanity left in this woman or she’d never be able to blend in with humans so easily—and I doubt her husband would be so devoted if she was a horrible creature.
Everyone has to have a few redeeming qualities, so even if she is shooting me death-ray looks she must be a decent person inside.
Or so you keep trying to convince yourself.
I’m not a monster just because I turn into a werewolf. At the root of who I am, I’m still me. Could this vampire be the same? And if that is the case, can I devote my life to serving her?
I watch the pair as they stroll hand and hand toward the long reflective pool outside the Lincoln memorial. The summer evening holds a refreshing breeze, chasing away a bit of the humidity the area is famous for. Dria and Rafe pass a bickering couple whose wandering toddler aims straight for the shallow water.
Dria notices the child and my body tenses. She wouldn’t be contemplating taking that kid, would she? A chill steals over me as I see her attention zero in on the small body climbing the stone edge of the pool. A quick glance at the parents reveal they are unaware of the danger lurking so close to their little one.
The vampire drops her husband’s hand. The small teetering body miscalculates on the wide edge of the pool, and plunges toward the dark surface of the water. Instantly Dria crosses the distance between herself and the child.
I leap into action, drawing level with Rafe, while Dria calmly grasps the child and rights him before his parents notice. She twists and sits, quick as a wink, making it appear as if she was headed to the water’s edge to take a seat the whole time.
A pent up breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshes out. Heat burns my face as I realize I immediately thought the worst of the vampire. Like she’d be bold or stupid enough to grab a child to feast upon.
Rafe’s low chuckle has me spinning to face him. “You should see your face. Fucking hysterical. Did you really think she meant the child harm?”
Shame courses through me. “I... uh...”
He nods his head in the direction of Dria. “My wife is very old. She doesn’t need much blood to survive.” Rafe stares me in the eye. There’s a hardness to him I hadn’t seen before. “And if you think she’d ever harm a child then you should never have asked her for help.”
The tension coiling in me eases out. “You’re right. I’m being an idiot.” I rub my hand over my face. “I’m exhausted and have been running for days. It’s been almost a week since I escaped the mansion. I don’t know if the wolves I left behind are alive or dead.”
When the parents come to retrieve their child, Dria dips her chin in greeting, as if nothing is amiss and the toddler didn’t almost fall in while they were distracted.
“If he’s addicted,” Rafe says, “he won’t kill them. They’re too valuable.”
I nod, not really reassured by his assessment but unable to prove him wrong.
Dria saunters to us, her face guarded. “You certainly are a determined son of a bitch aren’t you?”
I jam my hands into my pockets, unsure of my decided course to offer myself to her, even though it’s the only option I’ve got. “I have a proposition for you.”
Her deep green eyes trail down my body. “I bet you do.” Rafe clears his throat. Dria’s face lights up with a cheeky smile. “I was just teasing him, love.”
“Hear the boy out.”
My spine stiffens at his words. Boy? I’m twenty-one. Hardly a boy. Then again, next to the older man’s obvious fifteen years on me, I’ll let it slide.
The people visiting the pool wander off as the last of the late afternoon light fades. We’re not alone by any means, but no one stands close, either. I guess this is as safe a place as any to voice my concept.
Only one tiny hitch I need to clear up first. “You’re not addicted to Were blood, are you?”
A pensive look crosses the vampire’s face. “No. I don’t suffer from such a weakness.” Her eyes turn calculating. “Were you worried if I did agree to help I might try to take the place of this ruling vamp and seize his captive pack for my own needs?” Anger colors her tone and fear grips my heart at the rage I see boiling in her eyes.
Her misunderstanding was not my reason for asking—I was more worried she’d feast on me and kill me by accident—but damned if my line of questioning doesn’t sound suspicious of me in hindsight.
“No! I swear that thought hadn’t occurred to me.” I look from one to the other, noting doubt clearly on Dria’s face and amusement on Rafe’s. “Couldn’t you just look inside my head and clarify I didn’t intend what you inferred?”
Dria glances into my eyes. Her face sets in a hard mask and she whirls away, “Get rid of this fool.”
Crap! I stepped in it again. And this time I wasn’t even trying.
A loud sigh escapes Rafe. “Damn, you really need to think before you speak. I almost had her convinced it was the right thing to do.”
“What the hell did I say wrong?”
“Well, furball, you managed to insult her three times in less than five minutes.” He nods toward the pool. “First, you briefly entertained the thought that she might snack on that family’s child.” The expression on his face clearly proclaims he thinks I’m an idiot. “Then you ask if she’s an addict, even though she showed no interest in drinking from you. And now you practically accuse her of slipping into people’s heads whenever the fancy strikes her.” He stares where his wife went to sit on a park bench.
“But didn’t she read my mind in the elevator? Isn’t it a common thing for vampires?”
“No—and not the way you think.” At my look of confusion he continues, “Okay, in the elevator you were projecting, like she said. She didn’t have to attempt to read your mind so much as you made your thoughts clear as a bell to anyone sensitive enough to hear them. Most vampires don’t go around poking in other supernatural’s heads. It takes effort on their part to do so and the action is considered exceptionally rude. In some cases, with strong mental shielding, extra skill and strength must be used to read thoughts, which can be detectable to the person the vampire is trying to read. With such risk of discovery, the ability is used di
scriminately.”
“Oh.” Hope deflates out of me. “I’ve essentially called her a pedophile blood-drinker, an addict, and insulted her honor as a vampire. Nice.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “Usually it takes more of an effort to score so hugely as an ass.”
Rafe’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “Don’t give up. If saving that pack matters to you don’t let a few ruffled feathers thwart your task.”
Thwart? How old is this guy? Who the hell talks like that? I mentally brace myself. He’s right, dammit. No matter what I think of myself and my actions, I’ve got to go through with my plan.
I stride across the gravel and kneel at the vampire’s feet. Being submissive doesn’t come naturally to me and I have to rein in every impulse I have to stare her straight in the face. Through herculean effort, I avoid looking directly at the redhead and say, “I’m sorry about my behavior tonight. It doesn’t change the fact that I need your help. I can’t fight this vampire on my own and I haven’t found any wolves to help me. You’re the only option left.”
“Hmmph.” Her breath huffs out in annoyance. “Not much of an option since I already said no.”
Rafe wanders over and sits next to her, snaking an arm around her waist—making sure I understand they are a package deal. Well duh, they are married.
I steel my resolve and get to the difficult part. “What if I offer you something you couldn’t resist?”
I chance a glance at her face and see her intense eyes narrow at me in speculation. “And what could you offer that I need?”
“A vampire servant with werewolf blood. Someone who willingly donates when you need to increase your strength.”
A small gasp escapes her. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
I look up, boldly meeting her gaze. “Yes. Yes, I do. I’m offering my life in exchange for Raine’s pack. No matter how you cut it, those are good numbers: one life for fifteen.”
Her voice softens with a gentleness I haven’t heard from her. “You aren’t simply offering your life. The bond can affect you. You might very well lose your sense of self.”
Rafe’s gaze turns calculating, not angry or jealous like I feared. “He’s thought about this long and hard, haven’t you, Jon?”
I nod.
“He knows what he wants, Dria. He wants your help and he’s willing to risk his future for it.”
Dria stands and walks past me. “Let me think on it.”
I bolt to my feet and grasp her hand. “There isn’t time. I need to get them out and stop him before he captures more wolves.”
She hesitates and looks to her husband. They are both silent for a moment before she nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll help. But we need a plan.”
Elation surges through me, the rush so intense my vision fades for a moment. “His place is about ninety minutes away. We could end all of this madness tonight.”
“No. We strike tomorrow. Let’s check out of the hotel and find a place as close as we can without alerting him. I have an idea on how to proceed.”
Chapter Eleven
After a late dinner, we pack and drive our two separate vehicles to Middleburg, where the property was indicated on a map, not Purcellville like I thought. All those twists and turns when I followed Raine wound up leading to the outskirts of where many remote palatial estates lie, quite common in the affluential area.
The three of us check into the closest motel, which is still a ways from the vampire’s location, and then met in the couple’s room to discuss a plan. Dria refuses to visit the mansion tonight, even to case the grounds. She didn’t want to risk Cecil getting a hint of what was to come. We discuss arriving at his place the next night, dressed like we’re going to a party—well, she’ll be dressed anyway. I’ll be going in wolf form so he doesn’t recognize me.
After a brief trip to a local pet store to buy myself an expensive collar, I spend the next day sleeping. According to Dria it will be the only clothing piece I need to look like a well-kept vampire servant in his werewolf form.
We meet again in the couple’s room to go over details and annoyance vibrates off the vamp’s husband. The plan dictates that Rafe will stay at the hotel. For Dria’s ruse of being an addict to work, she stresses arriving with only a “pet” would appear more believable. He grumbled a lot last night but seems more agitated now that we’re leaving soon.
My nerves get the best of me, driving me to pace in their small hotel room while they stare daggers at one another. It’s almost nine and we should be getting on the road. Dria clears her throat, drawing my attention to her expression, one reddish eyebrow raised in expectation.
The young-looking vampire holds a knife over her wrist and my stomach clenches over the next stage of her plan. “I don’t understand this part. Why do I need to drink your blood?”
“You’ve met this bastard, right?” she asks. I nod, still unsure of how her blood will change that simple fact. “Got right up and personal with him—and he and his cronies drank from you?”
“Yeah, so?”
“He’ll recognize your scent, even in wolf form.”
My blood freezes as a thought occurs to me. “Could he ‘call’ me to him against my will or anything like that?” I heard about that once from the Weres in Canada.
“Don’t you think if he could, he would’ve by now? You did say he went after you at your apartment, right?”
Chagrinned at the obvious answer, my panic dulls a little. “Okay, good point. I don’t know for sure if he went to my apartment, Raine just stressed that he had gone after escaped wolves before. How will your blood help?”
“Once you drink a few sips, you are marked as mine. The essence of my blood mixes with yours, slightly changing the underlying blood scent—not a lot, but enough to mask you from him in your animal form. He won’t be looking too closely for danger in a visiting vampire’s kept werewolf.”
“Is my drinking of your blood what will make me your servant?”
“No. If I fed on you repeatedly or once very deeply and allowed you to have my blood it would bind us, making you my servant, but even then the bond must be renewed monthly to stay strong. Casual blood donation within a seethe would make you one of the seethe’s companions, not my servant.”
“Seethe?”
She smiles. “Forgive me, a ‘seethe’ is a vampire family.”
I nod, only slightly freaked out by the whole concept.
“It’s okay, Jon. I realize this is all new terminology for you. A companion is under the protection of the seethe even if they aren’t blood-bonded to any vampire in particular. Anyone else a vampire feeds from is classified as a donor, and has no protection.”
Rafe chimes in, “There is an exception, a way around the rules, if you will. If a person is blood marked, like Dria plans to do with you, they are considered off limits, even if they aren’t technically a servant in your seethe.”
This crap is getting confusing. “So I can be blood marked and not a companion or a servant?”
“Yes, the difference is who feeds from you—a companion can donate to everyone in the seethe. A servant is a private bond, continually strengthened with exclusivity over time, no other vamp can touch the person under penalty of death.”
“Why is it important I understand all of this now? How does it relate to me taking your blood?”
Rafe looks to his wife and then me. “It has more to do with you understanding what you are getting yourself into.”
“Does it really matter what we tell him?” Dria asks, discomfort clear in her voice. “Once I bite him it won’t make a difference, will it?”
Rafe nods, not as affected as she is by the weight of what’s bothering her.
“Why won’t it make a difference?” I ask.
She stalks to me, death and beauty in a scary package. “Because when I bite you, you will lose your free will. The only thing you’ll care about is what I want. Do you understand?”
It sounds like she’s trying to talk me out of this. Like
she isn’t willing to hold up her end of the bargain because of the moral ramifications of possibly removing my freedom of choice.
“But I’m agreeing to it. That means I am accepting the consequences.” In a show of good faith I take her hand holding the knife and lay it against her opposite wrist. “If this is what I need to do to hide from Cecil and help you take him down, then I’ll do it. I trust you.”
A sad smirk tilts up one corner of her full lips. “You shouldn’t.” She slices her wrist over a glass and bleeds into the red wine it contains. An ounce or so dribbles in before her cut heals before my eyes. “I’m a monster.”
I reach for the glass. Staring at her guarded expression, I drink the blood mixed with wine. It coats my throat with a lingering taste of salt and copper pennies. “I may not have seen a lot of evil in my life.” Strength seeps through my body, surprising me with its powerful jolt. “But there is no doubt in my mind I saw true evil in what Cecil is doing to those wolves. From what I’ve seen of you so far,” I say with a saucy grin, “you’re the lesser of two evils.”
Dria’s head lowers and she looks away. “Appearances are deceiving.”
Heat sings through my veins and I feel like I could pick up a bus without straining. “Holy shit. Your blood packs a real wallop.”
A sad smile ghosts across her face. “I know. Be careful while you adjust to it. And before you ask—yes, vampire blood can be addicting to the right type of person, too.” Her eyes harden. “And there was a time when vampires were hunted and drained for it.”
She goes from lighthearted and fun to scary and distant much too quickly for my tastes. I look to her husband, who only has eyes for her, watching her every movement with an intensity I’ve never seen among the over-sexed wolves.
Without another word, she heads into the bathroom to change into her evening gown. When devising this plan, I’d explained the formal dress I witnessed the vampires wearing in the dining room, and every other detail I could remember. Dria said it reminded her of an old European blood brothel she’d been to centuries ago. She knew exactly how she should dress to be accepted, and even assured me a pet werewolf would fit right in with the perceived decadence.
