Buried Passion

by Marianne Willis

  He nipped the other side of her neck, teeth sinking into skin. The bite deepened, his suction grew harder and prolonged. A masculine moan rang in her ears…no, that sounded close to a growl. Her pulse quickened, which pumped more blood. From the first brush of his lips, she suspected he was lust-ravenous. Her throat closed when she tried to scream. Instead, she clutched his shoulders, a silent plea to stop. He didn’t.

  A cold sweat broke along her forehead. Eyes rolled back into her skull, her body grew limp. The throb of her pulse slowed. And as a whispering fog, life seeped from her. She sank into darkness.

  Chapter 6

  The vampire killed her. Whoever that man had been…

  “Rachel. Rachel.”

  Was she still with the vampire? She screamed and squirmed.

  Need to escape. Now.

  “Hey, hey…”

  He grabbed her, held her to him. Every muscle in her body strained. “Let me go. Don’t hurt me.”

  “Shh…I won’t hurt you. It’s okay.”

  Ian? She blinked, tilted her head to meet the panic in his gaze. Her body relaxed. The beat of her heart smacked into his chest. Could he feel it? A pulsation exploded in her skull. She groaned. Liquid trickled over her lips and met her tongue with its rusty flavor. The dim light in the truck too strong for her sensitive eyes, she shifted and peered over his rock solid arm. Parked outside his house. She’d slept the entire drive.

  The killer’s face haunted every corner of her mind. Biting back a cry, she concentrated on the gentle trail of Ian’s fingers up and down her spine. The gesture reassured her that her killer was not here. Just her and Ian. Blood dripped onto his arm. Fire scorched her cheeks. She eased from his hold and stabilized shaky hands on the dashboard. In her flashback she’d been a witch. No wonder that scene with the car stereo had been so weird. As a child, she’d used magic to play an Elvis track. So, what did this make her now; half-vampire half-witch or full vampire?

  “These nosebleeds of yours aren’t normal.” Ian opened the glove-box, retrieved a few tissues and dabbed her nose and mouth.

  Not that she tried any spells or knew how. She doubted she possessed any witchy abilities. No, her characteristics were more on par with that of a vampire. Besides, didn’t Ian mention vampires were born? Maybe he was mistaken about resurrected vampires, and the killer’s bite placed her in a deathly, non-being void that took almost nine months to rebirth her into a vampire.

  Either way, her family had to have assumed she died. Family? Yes, a cousin, a sister…

  Ian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the delicate touch so tender, she flinched. Here she assumed he’d laugh at her horrid condition. Instead, his gaze darted over her face, and he snatched more tissues to stop the nosebleed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She took the tissues and handled it herself. “Thanks.” Only a few hours ago, he threatened to tie her to a road and watch the sun rise. A line of blood dribbled across his arm. Cheeks aflame, she crumpled into the car seat. Her blood. Ian didn’t seem bothered as he studied her. As if he didn’t itch to scrub it off. Disgust had to be churning inside him at the wet feel on his skin. It made his arm look injured. She licked her lips. Oh, now wasn’t the time to think about the delectable smell when he had cut his hand. Unable to stand the crimson sight a second longer, she swiped the evidence of her nosebleed with the clean side of the tissue.

  His eyes flickered to his arm, but refocussed on her. “Do you have another headache?”

  Again with the concern. It gave her whiplash. “What the hell, Wolfy? What are you doing?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he averted his gaze. Too bad she didn’t possess the ability to read minds.

  “Come on inside, it’s freezing out here.”

  The muscles beneath his shirt flexed as he opened the driver door. A plethora of sensations tingled between her legs. Damn him and that attractive male beauty. If he wasn’t sex on a stick, she wouldn’t have to remind herself how much she disliked him. And why the hell did she ogle him like a lovesick teenager? She might have a lover out there. An unladylike snicker caught in the back of her throat. If only such a thing were true. From the flashback, she’d been hung-up on some guy which resulted in a celibate, lonesome life. Ha, she should consider herself lucky for the lack of memory. She had been on the road to becoming a spinster.

  Ian opened the front door. She bypassed him into the living area and switched on the TV. He knelt in front of the fireplace and added several logs as she snuggled into the sofa. The crackling heat chased the chill out of her bones, replaced it with delicious warmth. A pitcher and two empty cups sat on a wooden place mat…from his earlier guests? Were they his friends or pushers, like the one mentioned in the flashback? She snickered. A dealer selling vampire blood? Crazy. If she ever found her family, would they understand her new need or were witches and vampires also enemies? She swallowed. Please God, don’t let the latter be true.

  Ian flopped into the armchair across from her. “On the drive home tonight, I had time to think while you slept.” Elbows on his knees, he leaned forward, eyes piercing her. “I’ve judged your actions and motives based on your species. I don’t know what happened to you. Hell, you don’t even know what happened to you. I had to remind myself what you’re going through is scary, and I see how desperate you are for answers.” He licked his lips. “What I mean to say is, I’m sorry for being arrogant. I’m sorry for laying a hand on you. That’s not the person I am, and it’s not fair to treat you that way because you’re a vampire.”

  A flush through her body jolted her on the spot. He meant every word.

  The confession was not only an obvious weight off his shoulders, it abated her own unease. It couldn’t have been easy with her in this house, yet he took a risk and aided her, anyway. “Thank you for taking me to the cemetery.”

  He spared her a glance. “No problem.”

  “As for not knowing…I think I’m remembering my life.”

  The frown on his face relaxed. “I gathered that on our way there. So, does this mean you were human before becoming a vampire? Do you remember how you turned?”

  A mental image sprouted of the blond bastard in the alley. “I have an idea of how it happened.” Try a drunk witch who played with fire, allowing a vampire to drink from her. Heat scorched her cheeks.

  “From what I’ve been told vampires aren’t resurrected. Rachel, I think you might be unique.”

  “I have these weird flashes of my life. It’s as if I’m trying to fit a puzzle together, but I find myself guessing at the pieces, questioning things I don’t remember.”

  His intent stare sucked her into a vortex of safety. This was a whole new side she hadn’t met. Perhaps if they hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, they might have been friends.

  “And when I’m not worrying over the memories, I wonder about problems around me. Like why you hate my kind?”

  Dark brows drew together. He flinched as though his thoughts centred on something terrible. “A few years ago, before the treaty, three vampires attacked me. I promised myself I would never let that happen again. I’d rather die than have a pair of fangs sink into my skin.”

  She shifted on the sofa as a prickle danced across her nape. No wonder he’d been so brutal when she attacked. “How do you feel about witches?”

  The contorted irritation on his face grew bleak. “You’re aware of witches?”

  Not until tonight. Instead of telling him so, she nodded.

  “I feared them. I never understood my unease toward them, but they freaked me out. I guess I don’t mind their kind as much since Amber.”

  “Amber?” The name sounded familiar. Was she his lover?

  “She’s bonded to my best friend, Chayton. It’s a predestined tie that binds men and women of my kind with their chosen soulmate,” he explained when she gave a questioning look. “When Amber first arrived in Qualla, Chay had already removed her powers. So, she didn’t seem like a threat. After
I became friends with her, I realized I had nothing to fear.”

  “Does she have her powers back?”

  “Yeah, but even so, she’s not a bad witch. She’s lovely, and the best thing that’s happened to my best friend.”

  Ian’s happiness for his friend radiated through his genuine smile. “And you, do you have a mate?” The idea twisted her stomach into knots. Foreign and perplexing, she thrust the unwanted emotion aside.

  He grew silent for a long moment, his face hard. “She’s dead.”

  Oh. Way to make things awkward. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Ian glanced at the clock.

  She followed his gaze. What was he waiting for? “How about vampires, do they bond with other vampires or have predestined mates?”

  “The chosen of a vampire is called a moitié.”

  “Moitié? Sounds French.”

  “It is. Chayton is part French, and he said it means, half because moitiés are the other half of their bonded’s soul. As for the specifics on bonded vampires, I don’t know anything about it.”

  What if she was destined for someone? A relationship sounded nice, but not as important as finding her family right now. After that, she’d ponder the future and destined moitiés. More memories might return once reunited with her cousin and sister. How would she cope around them when her cravings hit? The blood bags did the trick, but once out of Ian’s life, she would have to find her own supplier.

  Nestled into the armrest, her eyes drifted close. All these flashbacks, nosebleeds and headaches left her exhausted. When she blinked her eyes open again, she studied Ian in silence. His gaze remained transfixed on the clock above the fireplace. He seemed so…lost, weighed down. Rachel’s heart softened. In their short time together, she’d seen his hard, menacing demeanor, but Ian was in fact lonely and sad. Could he move on with another, or did his bond only allow loyalty to one person, even though that person was dead? Another wave of fatigue hit. Her heavy lids drooped. This time she didn’t fight to keep them open.

  The sun had descended and darkness filled the sky. Tents, Tiki torches, and teenagers crammed the open field. Boys and girls drank from beer cans, laughing with friends as others made out in quiet corners or against trees. Rachel sat with Tara, their cheeks rosy from the waves of heat washing over them. As the burning wood hissed and popped, filling the air with its smoky pine fragrance, their attention centred on the group at a nearby campfire.

  “I’m not sure how it happened?” Delta sniffled and swiped her nose with her sleeve.

  One of Delta’s friends seated on the wooden log beside her patted her back, the comfort encouraged the girl to pour her heart out. “Were you drinking?”

  Delta scoffed and shook her head. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I may have a few too many at times, but I never get to the point where I’m not conscious of what I’m doing. Jeff asked me the same question, and the answer is no. I have no excuse as to why I kissed Eddy. I was overcome by a force I had no control over.” She sobbed, face in her hands. Her friends shared an odd look.

  A heavy ball of steel sat in Rachel’s chest. Delta’s friends believed she was crazy, when in fact she told the truth. Delta had been powerless over her actions. The spell Rachel cast made sure of that.

  “Oh, Rachel. What have you done? I told you this was a bad idea.”

  It was a great idea. Did it make what she did right? No. “They don’t belong together. Eventually they’d have broken up. I helped quicken the process.”

  “Because Jeff belongs with you.” Tara rolled her eyes and sipped her drink.

  Yes. Jeff might not know it yet, but he would. Rachel dusted her jeans and snatched her alcopop from the ground, having had enough with explaining herself. “I’ll be back.”

  With one hand in her hoodie pocket, she ambled around the field. Was Jeff all right? After seeing his girlfriend making out with his friend, he probably wasn’t in the mood for a party. The orange-yellow glow from the campfires lit the large piece of land like a giant Christmas tree. Rachel glanced at the unfamiliar faces, eyes peeled for Jeff. Every year, newcomers attended the camp out. There had to have been at least five hundred people here.

  Loud R&B music pumped from the speakers at Rory Fuller’s campfire. Girls rocked their hips to the beat, their wandering gaze in search for whoever’s attention they caught. Several guys bobbed their heads in tune, rapped out every word as though they wrote the lyrics themselves. She cringed at the desperate display. Thank God Jeff never acted like these attention-starved wannabes. Rory waved when she passed by. She returned a polite nod without stopping at his campfire, and pretended to gaze about as though she hadn’t noticed his frown.

  A good thing Tara and Rory were childhood friends, otherwise Tara wouldn’t have any connections to these events. This year, the camp out took place on Rory Fuller’s private lot. Rory and his cousins derived from big money, and their family loved to show off their grandiose mansions and acres of land. A few years ago, the boys installed several bike tracks on their properties and organised massive camp outs. The Fuller boys might have a love for BMX riding, but Rachel bet they did this for the ladies, and the parties.

  Beyond the campground sat a few cabins. She stopped at the top of a hill. Stars reflected in the water and illuminated the lakeside. A silhouette lingered at the bottom of the slope by the lake. Jeff, alone on a boulder, back facing her, long dark hair in a low ponytail.

  This was her chance.

  Twigs and dried leaves crunched beneath her shoes as she sauntered down the incline.

  Jeff turned, face shadowed in the dark. “Who are you?”

  Her full profile was bathed in moonlight. Nerves raked her system, but she refused to run and hide. “Rachel.”

  Silence grew between them. “The water-stand girl, right?”

  A smile touched her lips. He recognised her. Rory left her and Tara in charge of handing out bottles of water to the riders after their stunts. People would kill to have their role, to be so close to the action you can inhale the sweat, feel the sprinkle of dirt as the riders performed their amazing exploits. Not to mention the amount of times she waited with a bottle in hand, so Jeff might snatch it when he ambled past. A few times their fingers had even brushed. “I saw the commotion and wanted to see if you’re okay.”

  “Why? You don’t even know me.”

  She swallowed. He was right. Friends were not an issue for this guy, he had plenty of people to console in. She was the girl who handed out water and energy drinks before and after each race, the girl whose throat dropped into her stomach every time she looked at him. The girl who wanted to offer her aching heart, in hopes he’d accept and cherish the precious gift.

  “I’m fine, by the way. My pride is knocked a tad, but I’ll survive. It’s not like Delta’s the one.”

  The one? “What makes you say so?”

  In the dark, she discerned his grin. “Fate. Corny, right? But we all have a destiny. I’m waiting for mine.”

  The brazen hope in his words gripped her heart. “Same here.”

  “Yeah.” He enquired with a swift chin tilt. “Who are you waiting for?”

  You. Her heart pounded hard. “I’m waiting for the guy of my dreams to wake up and realize I’m his.”

  Jeff threw his head back and laughed, not in mockery, but genuine delight. “Damn, that’s deep.” Feet propped on the boulder, he shifted his body, giving her his full attention.

  Rachel’s chest grew weightless, and she forgot to breathe.

  “You have to play a part, too. You should tell him.”

  A laugh disguised her nerves. “No way. It’d be too embarrassing. He has no idea who I am. When I see…him, I hold myself back. Besides, I’ve been told he’s out of my league, and I think my friend might be right.”

  “What? You’re a beautiful girl. I’m sure he’d love to date you.”

  Joy melted her insides quicker than butter. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Yeah.” He hoppe
d to the ground to grab a stone before tossing the rock in the water.

  Maybe she should admit her feelings, see where it led.

  A loud rustle interrupted her thoughts. Eddy, Jeff’s friend stomped toward them.

  “Bro,” Eddy exclaimed when he reached Jeff. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “Who you calling bro? Last time I checked, bros don’t kiss their friend’s girl.”

  “Delta never meant to kiss me.”

  “Whatever man, come one step closer. I dare you.”

  Eddy ignored the warning and grabbed Jeff by the shoulders. “Listen to me. When Delta approached me, I smelt it in the air—”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jeff whacked at Eddy’s hands.

  “…the sweetness. Witchcraft.”

  Witchcraft? They knew of witches. How? And how the hell did Eddy detect the magic performed hours ago?

  “Shhh,” Jeff muttered, head inclined in her direction.

  Eddy’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, you have company.” He sidestepped Jeff and shot an apologetic smile. “Do you mind leaving us?”

  “Sure,” she whispered and scudded back to the field. Limbs twitched with the need to escape, she bit her bottom lip, desperate to keep cool. They could smell her. Unbelievable. The Johnson family spell books mentioned magic traced through the hands, but she never imagined mere mortals might notice. Crap, she needed to act quickly. Beneath an outdoor spotlight at one of the cabins, she glanced at her drink, then poured the liquid over her palms before she disposed of the bottle. Please let this be enough to mask the scent.

  “Rachel, wait!”

  Oh. Busted. They figured out she cast the spell.

  She contemplated making a run for it. No, she had to play the innocent card. This wasn’t The Burning Times. Jeff dashed toward her, the spotlight illuminating every inch of his handsome face. A face ingrained in her memory. If she wasn’t ogling him during the day, she dreamt about him at night. She could sketch his features with her eyes closed. Sharp cheekbones, the strong set of his jaw, and those dark cinnamon eyes complemented his caramel skin, reminded her of something sweet and forbidden.