But they still consider you under their rule, I thought, not wanting to state the obvious out loud for fear of angering Lysander.
“The New World had been discovered while I slept. It was far away from everything I had known. I felt it could be a place of new beginning for me. I booked passage on a ship bound for America, saying goodbye to my beloved Kallisto. From that moment on, I would never consider myself part of her or her coven again.”
He closed the book, taking it from my lap and setting it on to the coffee table.
“The goodbye did not last as long as I had hoped. Kallisto followed me. After my arrival in America, I lived in Boston, then Chicago, then Texas, and finally, here. Each place I called home was not mine for very long. Eventually she made her presence known.”
“So what can we do? Do we face her, or do we move somewhere else?”
Lysander stood up and paced in front of the couch.
“I’m not sure what I am going to do at this moment.”
Great, just great! He’s supposed to have the answers and he doesn’t know what to do.
“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.” I stretched out, across the couch, and waited for Lysander to stop his pacing and give me some idea of what would happen to us. This Kallisto woman sounded pretty hard to deal with, but Lysander hadn’t escaped her in the nearly thousand years since their first parting. It didn’t seem likely that moving was going to solve anything, and I had a feeling that was why he was unable to give me an answer.
“Try not to worry, Alyssa. I will take care of this. For now, we must concentrate on your education as a vampire.”
Chapter 10
A FEW NIGHTS passed after our encounter with Edmond. We hadn’t heard anything new from the coven, and Lysander had not yet told me how we planned to deal with the threat they posed to us. It appeared that Lysander was waiting for them to make another move. The potential threat of Kallisto was a constant worry. Even though Lysander tried to reassure me that he could handle her, his words didn’t do much to relieve my anxiety. I wanted to know how, but he wouldn’t say anything further. I had no choice but to trust his word and hope for the best.
Lysander focused on bringing me up to speed and teaching me how to be, as he called it, a proper vampire. He told me that would be key to my survival. He did have a point. I wouldn't know the first thing about defending myself against a two-thousand-year-old ex-lover with a grudge.
I learned that some things about being a vampire were pretty cool. There were definitely benefits to being immortal. Really, it was only the hunting for blood that bothered me.
My new abilities began to develop quickly. I could sense other living things around me: people, animals, and vampires—although I had really only had Lysander as a test subject for the last one. Even if I couldn’t see or smell them, I could sense the presence of something alive near me. An odd feeling would strike me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, and I would know someone was around. I sensed the unseen presence near me and knew the exact direction to look and find it. At times I sensed emotions as if I were feeling them myself.
Each time I was near Lysander, I felt that strange warmth radiating from him. I wondered if he felt it too, and if it meant something.
Lysander showed no hint of any feelings; always the teacher, he focused strictly on my vampire education. He instructed me to go after only those people who were evil. It was his way to justify the hunt. If we had to survive off blood, it should only come from those who would spill it themselves. After my first hunt and the feeling of power, as I took down the man who might have raped me (or worse), I understood this philosophy.
Guilt at the thought of killing still hung in the back of my mind. My victims, evil as they were, were still human, and it went against my nature to end their lives.
“I don’t want anyone to have to die,” I protested. I tried to stall, holding out as long as I could each night before hunting.
“Waiting too long to hunt and letting the thirst take over and control you will cause you to mistakenly attack someone who wouldn’t deserve to die,” Lysander cautioned.
I could tell my reluctance bothered him. As patient as he was, I knew he was tiring of my protests and arguments.
“Would you be able to handle that kind of guilt? Blood is how we survive. Someone has to die. There is no way around this. If you let your hunger take over, you will become the bloodthirsty monster you fear.”
I huffed and crossed my arms in frustration. I couldn’t argue with him. His intentions were right, and there was no getting out of the need for blood.
“If you hunt when you are not starving, you will be able to control yourself enough to choose your victims wisely,” Lysander said, placing a hand on my shoulder for comfort. “Keep hunting criminals and justify their deaths.”
He continued to take me to the seedy parts of town, staying close enough to keep a watch on me as I hunted, making sure I didn’t get into trouble. It was a little annoying to be constantly babysat like this, but Lysander refused to let me hunt alone.
Even though it seemed futile, I was stubborn, and continued to argue and question if there were any other ways to feed.
Eventually, Lysander obliged by showing me another, less pleasant method of survival: feeding off the blood of animals.
He took me out with the intention of hunting feral strays. Not exactly a better option, in my opinion.
We spotted a chocolate lab, wandering down a quiet neighborhood street.
“You can’t expect me to go after that dog,” I protested.
Lysander crossed his arms in front of his chest. His eyes narrowed and he shot a stern look at me. “Why not? You said you didn’t want to hunt people. What else did you expect to hunt?”
“It’s probably someone’s pet,” I stalled. Killing a defenseless animal just didn’t sit right with me.
Lysander pointed in the direction of the dog. “I doubt that. Look at how skinny the mangy thing is.”
The dog stopped for a second and sniffed the air. I saw the outline of its ribs underneath its dirty, matted fur. It turned its head in our direction, taking one more sniff before bolting down the street at top speed.
“Go get it,” Lysander urged.
“No!” I stomped my foot like a child throwing a fit. I had never been much of a pet lover, but killing defenseless animals seemed crueler to me than killing a rapist.
“If it’s not enough to satiate you, we can always find another. Consider this one a snack,” Lysander said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I would much rather destroy a murderer, rapist, or even a pedophile than an innocent dog or cat. This just seems heartless.”
A life was a life, and it just felt wrong to me to end such an innocent one with my hunger.
“You have eaten chicken and cow, have you not?” Lysander asked.
“Yes, but I never had to kill them myself. I think I might have turned vegetarian if I had been forced to.”
Lysander laughed at me.
“They are innocent,” I snapped at him. “How can I destroy a harmless creature who has done no wrong?”
“You asked for a way to avoid killing humans. Animals are your only other option. Of course, you don’t have to hunt them. You can keep taking out criminals, if you find that more justifiable.”
“Is there no other way around killing?”
“No, I’m sorry. You must have live blood.”
“Please, Lysander, there has to be another way,” I begged. I wanted—I needed—there to be some other way.
“Why must there be some other way? This is how we live. We must drink blood.”
“There are other ways of obtaining blood, though.” I was not giving up yet. “Can’t we try something else? Please?”
“I see you aren’t going to let this go,” he sighed. “Fine, you can have your way. I will show you what it is like to have blood without hunting for it. But, I can guarantee you will like this less than the
animals.”
* * *
HE TOOK US to a local butcher, and asked him to package up a container of blood for us. The butcher, a balding, overweight man, complied while blankly staring at Lysander, as if he were in a trance. It seemed odd to me that the butcher asked no questions or even gave Lysander a second glance when he requested a pint of blood. I had a sneaking suspicion that Lysander had done something to make the butcher seem so docile.
My questions were easily forgotten when we exited the building. I eagerly awaited my first trial with the stored blood. Rather than wait to get it back to Lysander’s house, we took the container of blood around a back alley behind the butcher shop to have a little taste. I was so excited for this new alternative to my nightly feeding that I could hardly wait for him to open the container. My mouth watered with anticipation. I prepared for the dizzying rush of energy I was accustomed to feeling when I drank.
If this works, I’m stocking Lysander’s fridge full of blood.
I was eager to end my need to kill.
Lysander must have known what I was thinking. He had a mischievous smile on his face as he offered me the container of blood.
I took it greedily, yanking off the top of the container, and inhaled a long whiff of its scent.
My nose crinkled.
Odd, this does not smell sweet or fragrant at all. It smells like an old rusty penny. Maybe this is what Lysander meant when he said I wouldn’t enjoy it?
Against the protest of my nose, I put the container to my lips and took a sip.
Here’s to no more death!
“Ugh!” I gagged.
It was exactly what I had first imagined drinking blood would be like: cold, gelatinous, half-congealed, runny goop. The stale, metallic taste made me want to throw up.
Lysander laughed as he watched me trying to choke down the contents of the container. I could only handle a few sips before I dropped it to the ground, trying to control my gag reflex.
“Tastes horrible, doesn’t it?” He chuckled. “That is why we drink from the living, Alyssa.”
I ignored his mocking smile as I scraped my tongue against my teeth and spit a coagulated chunk on the ground. The stale, metallic taste hung in my mouth.
“It’s disgusting. I can’t drink this at all,” I screeched. “It’s terrible.”
“And it has no energy and therefore no sustenance for us. Drinking this will do nothing for you. It is the energy in live blood that you take in. That’s what makes the blood worth drinking.” Lysander continued to laugh at me.
“I guess I learned my lesson,” I grumbled and kicked the container on the ground, spilling blood all over the asphalt. Lysander was right. Like it or not, I had to survive off living blood.
Chapter 11
AFTER OUR EXPERIMENT with the cow’s blood from the butcher shop, I had a new eagerness for the taste of fresh blood. I was also getting better at sensing people around me as I hunted, and after telling this to Lysander, he decided it was time for me to learn more about my abilities.
I was ready for my next lesson and eagerly readied myself for his instruction.
Lysander came out of the bedroom dressed in a pair of plain carpenter jeans and a very loosely buttoned black shirt that revealed a tempting view of his neck and chest.
I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. I licked my lips, enjoying the view as he walked across the room.
“We are going to work on something tonight before you hunt,” he said slyly, calling me over to take a seat at the head of the dining room table.
I happily did as I was told and took a seat in the chair closest to where Lysander stood.
“I am going to show you how to direct the feelings of your victim to make him submissive.”
A smile crept across my face. This sounded like it could be fun.
Lysander must have recognized my excitement. He returned my smile, showing just a hint of teeth beneath his lips.
“Everyone, mortals and immortals alike, is susceptible to suggestion. You can use this to your advantage by hypnotizing and relaxing them, making your victim more submissive and willing for you to take them.”
The docile butcher from the night before suddenly made sense. Lysander must have done something like that to him.
“How’s that possible?” I asked.
“We are gifted with stronger minds than we had previously as mortals. You’ve already shown your powers are developing quickly. Your ability to sense the presence of others without seeing them is proof of that. But that is only a small hint of what you will be capable of. If you can concentrate and harness this new power, you can do much more with it.”
Up to now, my victims had all been criminals of some kind, and a kill was usually the result of me fighting with them, dragging them down in self-defense as I drained them of their life.
I was intrigued by the thought that I could make someone just want me to end their life. I imagined a murderer throwing a knife to the ground and begging me to bite him.
A small giggle escaped me and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand to stifle it.
Lysander continued, “As your senses develop, you will easily be able recognize the feelings of those you come in contact with. You can use that ability to know what they are feeling and then change it to match whatever you want them to feel.”
He looked down at me. His eyes met mine, probing me for understanding.
“Can you sense what I am feeling?” he asked.
I sensed the warmth that seemed to join us, but never anything more. I remembered feeling the sadness that came from Lysander when he told me his story. I’d been looking into his eyes when I felt it.
It must be the eyes.
I tried to quiet my mind, focusing on him. His eyes were hypnotic and powerful. A rush of excitement took me over. He was like my own personal Greek god, statuesque and beautiful, the image of perfection with flawless features and those hypnotically beautiful eyes. It had been the nicest perk of my immortality, that he was my maker.
I lost myself, staring into the deep gray pools of his eyes, admiring the blue flecks sparkling at me. Lysander was a perfect specimen of man. I suddenly wanted to pull him close and feel his body next to mine. I wanted to give in to my secret urge to be close to him.
We remained locked in this stare for a few moments, as I imagined feeling his lips on mine.
I shook my head, blinking a few times, realizing I wasn’t concentrating on my task.
Focus! I need to focus! I can do this.
I blinked again before refocusing on Lysander’s eyes.
“Fear,” I whispered timidly. It was a guess. I couldn’t sense what he was feeling. A tiny voice in my head whispered to me and urged me to pull him closer.
“Concentrate on my feelings, Alyssa, not your own. Try again.”
I took a deep breath before looking into Lysander’s eyes again. I found it hard to see past the feelings of desire for him. I tried hard to quiet my nerves. There was no silence in my head. This need, this urge to be close to him, was all I felt. It took a moment before I realized it must be coming from him as well.
My heart fluttered at the thought that he might want me too. “Desire,” I whispered.
“Good,” Lysander said calmly, showing no outward signs of his feelings. “That is the first step. You will need to read the feelings of your intended victim.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, happy I was able to perform the first part of this task.
“Next, you must create a very strong feeling in yourself. You have to feel it if you’re going to make your victim feel it,” Lysander continued.
That doesn’t sound too hard.
“When you have your strong feeling, you must will that feeling to your victim, so they feel it too.”
A wicked grin crossed his face. I knew he was about to do something to me, but I didn’t know what it was.
“Now, imagine your victim feeling this as you attack.”
He lifted his hand an
d brushed the side of my neck. His touch caused my skin to pimple with gooseflesh. He looked down into my eyes; I felt the power of his stare intensify. A gray haze filled my head, and I suddenly felt weightless in my seat.
My heart fluttered wildly, like a humming bird buzzing in my chest. A feeling of want took me, an overwhelming need for him to be close to me. I swooned, falling back into the chair. I caught my balance just as Lysander bent down eye level with me.
His hand knotted in my hair. He gently pulled my head backwards. Hot breath grazed the sensitive skin on my neck as he drew closer; it set my blood on fire. I suddenly needed to touch him, to feel his body against my own. I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly, and arched my neck towards him in anticipation. I knew now what was coming. I didn’t want to struggle. I wanted him to bite me, to take my blood, my essence, into him.
His lips parted on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
A sigh escaped my lips as his teeth pierced my skin—a momentary pinch. I whimpered but didn’t struggle against him. The sensual pull as he drew the life out of me quickly replaced the pain.
I wanted this. I wanted to be taken—to give all of myself to Lysander. Whatever he wanted from me, he could have. I would die in his arms if he only asked.
As quickly as he advanced, he finished his lesson, gently releasing me, letting me sink into the chair. Part of me wanted to cry out. I wanted more of his kiss. My body ached for his closeness.
Lysander pulled away and sat himself down on the floor. His eyes caught mine as I slowly regained control over my body. We sat gazing at each other. I wondered if he had shown me some of the real feelings simmering underneath his usually emotionless exterior.
It took a few minutes for me to completely recover from Lysander’s advance. I sat back up on the chair, breathing slowly, trying to calm my pounding heart.
“Now, Alyssa, I want you to try that on me. Make me feel that same way, make me want to die in your arms.”
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