by Caris Roane
As he moved past her, she caught a scent, something wild and pungent, almost erotic, yet tough, like it grew on rocky hillsides. She shook her head, trying to clear her head because the vampire’s scent was doing something to her, affecting her ability to reason, and warming things down low.
She felt a profound and quite irrational instinct to follow after him and shove her hair away from her neck.
She realized that her heart had started to pound, hard and heavy until even her throat ached.
She reached back for the bar to steady herself.
Then strangely, her vision shifted as the strobes softened and the light rose so that she saw him as if in late afternoon light, the kind when the shadows were long and the air golden. But how was it possible she could see him like this?
Right now, though, she didn’t care.
He was a beautiful man, yes that was the word that came to her. Beautiful.
He had a soft indentation at his chin, high cheekbones, straight eyebrows that sat in a scowl over his brow. His eyes were smoky brown, like gray and light brown combined.
The uniform, she decided, was sexy as hell with leather boots that climbed his thighs and silver buckles down the sides. He wore a soft woven maroon shirt beneath a leather, sleeveless coat.
But it was his hair that struck some strange deep chord inside her, a long curled mass, pulled back by the clasp but hanging almost to his waist. She knew the Guardsmen in particular wore their hair long, a signal maybe to their enemies about their military status in the Bergisson Realm.
Her gaze slipped past him to the realm-folk who watched him sweep by. What she saw startled her because most of them appeared to be in awe, while a few low-lifes were downright scared shitless, and some of the fae women held deep lust in their eyes.
Samantha knew she must have looked like that as well, hungry for the man, a reminder that she’d been alone way too long.
She forced herself to look away from him as he headed to the far wall, setting her cosmo on the bar behind her with trembling fingers.
She drew a couple of deep breaths then heard Mary crying out, “What are you doing to him? Stop it. Oh. Oh, Mastyr Ethan, I’m…I’m sorry, but what did he do wrong?” Mary wasn’t the brightest woman around.
Mastyr Ethan had come to Club Prave? The ruler of Bergisson Realm? What did this mean?
As quickly as Ethan had disappeared into the crowd, he returned hauling his prey by the thick collar of the Guardsman’s coat. The vampire looked wobbly from feeding, his eyes sunken, his fangs glistening red. “Ry won’t stand for this.”
“You know the rules.”
“Ethan, we’ve got him.” Another male voice sounded through the club.
Samantha turned to her right, in the direction of the entrance, and at least six Guardsmen created a new flurry of excitement as they marched in.
They were an amazing presence in matching uniforms and had the females in the club panting. The foremost, with shocking red hair, hurried forward and grabbed the prisoner by the arm.
“Finn, what are you doing here?” Mastyr Ethan asked.
“Just thought we’d drop by, scope the scene.” His voice held a teasing note.
Ethan didn’t seem pleased, however, but Samantha had no idea why. “All right. You can take care of him, but I want him locked up for this.” He then flung Tom in the redhead’s direction, the one called Finn, sending the offender sprawling. The Guardsman picked him up off the dance floor. Another of the Guard grabbed his other arm and without missing a beat, they hauled him back to the entrance, then outside.
Ethan, now opposite Samantha, appeared ready to leave as well. He even stepped forward then stopped dead in his tracks.
His nostrils flared, just as the vampires had done on either side of her just a few moments ago.
She felt uneasy suddenly, like she was walking the railroads tracks and she could feel the vibrations of a train coming right under her feet but she couldn’t seem to move to safety.
She also became painfully aware that her heart still pounded as she watched Ethan, and not out of fear or even desire, but out of a need to give him her most essential life-force.
What the hell was happening to her?
*** *** ***
Ethan smelled the woman first, a scent like crushed raspberries mixed with wine, like something he could lick with his tongue and savor for a lifetime.
He had meant to follow right after Finn and the other men, but the scent stopped him. Beneath that fruit-laden aphrodisiac, he caught another layer of scent: The woman’s blood, and it was like nothing he’d ever smelled before, like she had rivers of it and it was meant for him.
That one thought, rivers of blood meant for him, made him turn toward her and stare hard.
A recent memory surfaced, of Mastyr Gerrod, a fellow mastyr vampire, who had been ready to tear Ethan to shreds for touching a woman like this one, a woman with rivers of blood, a woman in his realm-world known as a blood rose.
Gerrod had met a human named Abigail, who had relieved him forever of his blood starvation.
Sweet Goddess of Life, the woman standing alone at the bar, with vampires moving away from her on either side of her, was a goddamn blood rose.
His stomach cramped hard in anticipation of taking from her.
She must have registered his desire because she lifted her hand and pressed it against her neck as though trying to hold her vein steady. He could feel her blood singing for him, a soft vibration that forced another cramp through his stomach.
She shook her head and he could see she was bewildered. She had no idea what she was or why he, and every other vampire in the place, leered at her.
He knew the crowd was still there, waiting on him. The moment he’d entered the club, the owner had cut the music. Yet for a long, terrible moment all he could do was stare.
The woman was tall. He liked that. Shapely. Nice breasts. She wore her thick black hair straight and to the shoulders with a slight upward curve at the ends. Her eyes were the lightest blue he’d ever seen, almost unearthly. She wore jeans and a short-sleeved purple blouse, nothing fancy or even welcoming. He could smell her sex, though, her desire for him; she couldn’t disguise what she felt, what she was experiencing.
Sweet Goddess, a blood rose in Shreveport, right next door to the Bergisson plane.
He walked toward her but only because he couldn’t seem to help himself even though he could see from the way she wrinkled her nose that she wasn’t exactly happy about what was happening.
Well, he wasn’t either.
Maybe Mastyr Gerrod of Merhaine had found bliss with his blood rose, but Ethan wasn’t interested in this kind of liaison. He’d watched Gerrod become possessive and lose himself in the woman, the last thing he wanted to do with any woman, human or otherwise, yet still he moved toward her.
“What’s your name?” he called out.
She glanced around, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Everyone in the place stared at them both. He was used to that kind of attention; being in charge of an entire realm did that to a man, but she looked ready to run away.
Then she got mad. He saw it in the glint in her eye as she lifted her chin. “Samantha Favreau. And you’re Mastyr Ethan.”
“I am.”
“What do you want here?”
“What do I want?” His voice boomed once more. He glared at her now, angry that her body offered what he was unwilling to take, yet something he hungered for.
He was about to force himself to turn on his heel and leave her the hell alone, when he saw something in her eye, not just a flash of anger, but this time a flash he’d often seen in the eyes of powerful fae women as they slipped into a vision.
Holy fuck, the woman wasn’t just human, she was part fae.
And he’d bet his last Goddess be-damned farthing that she didn’t know, or hadn’t known until this very second, that she carried realm-blood in her human veins.
*** *** ***
Samantha r
eached to either side of her and grabbed hold of the bar, anchoring herself. She didn’t understand the sensations that now poured over her, a strange vibration accompanied by images that began commanding her mind.
An entire scene came to life as though she was watching a movie, the colors rich and vivid. An event was taking place at night, a kind of fair, she supposed, with tables laden with food, trinkets, musical instruments, stuffed animals, the usual kind of carnival-ware.
At one end of a wide, playing field, lively, round canvas tents lined the grounds. They were painted with all kinds of pictures, some of woodland settings, some of animals, some of children playing games.
The vision caused her to pan to the right and over to a distant hillside, up which a beech-wood climbed to the top. But the trees grew red with what looked like fire at first, but couldn’t have been since the foliage didn’t catch and burn.
No, the red seemed to be a kind of wind and then she remembered from her studies that when the enemy attacked, the wraith-pairs called the Invictus, a kind of red aura would appear, followed by the fighting pairs.
As though she stood in the middle of everything, Guardsmen suddenly flew past her in their strange levitated-flight, some high in the air, others just a foot above the ground, Mastyr Ethan in the lead. On they raced in the direction of the hill, the trees, and the red wind.
The vision took her with Ethan, something that made sense since his appearance in front of her at the prave had set the strange vision off in the first place.
She watched the men, maybe fifty of them altogether, join in battle though she stayed back, yet found herself levitating high in the air. Her gaze was drawn to whatever place Ethan seemed to be as he moved up and down the line.
Pairs of strange beings, joined in some mystical, powerful way, appeared in the red wind. Jolts, like an electrical force, moved from the pairs to each individual Guardsman. A light show emerged of red and blue sparks and streams of energy, from one side to the other, back and forth.
Daggers and other weapons emerged as well, thrown, sometimes connecting. At intervals, Guardsmen rushed the pairs and brought them down screaming.
The Invictus.
She knew what made up the battling pairs: a wraith and some other enslaved realm-folk. She’d even heard that sometimes humans could engage in the same way, which made her shudder. Other than being bitten by a vampire, she couldn’t think of a worse fate.
The vision suddenly tunneled down to Ethan. She could sense him faltering as he called out for Finn, his second-in-command. She could feel their bond, that they’d been brother-warriors for decades.
Finn took charge as Ethan fell to the ground.
She hovered over him now, within the body of the vision. She felt how weak he was and that it had to do with a lack of blood. Mary had told her about the mastyr vampires, those men of stature in the world of the Nine Realms who served as leaders. Something about their natural power used up donated blood at light-speed so that they constantly needed their supplies replenished but were never really satisfied.
Yes, another shudder.
She drew closer and felt herself moved to offer up her vein, because she could feel that he was close to death. Once more, her heart pounded and she touched her neck.
“He’s dying. By the Goddess, we need help here. Mastyr Ethan is dying!” Finn’s panicked voice rose above the sounds of the battle.
In the vision, Ethan’s eyes closed. His skin paled out. Somehow, from deep within her mind, she heard him call to her, Help me, Samantha. Only you can save me. You’re a blood rose and you can help me.
Samantha struggled to leave the confines of the vision, but Ethan was so desperate. She felt, she knew, she held his life in her hands because she was something called ‘a blood rose’.
She placed her wrist over his mouth.
She heard him groan.
She saw his fangs and felt him clutch at her wrist holding her fast.
Maybe it was the force of his touch or that she could feel those sharp fangs penetrate her skin, but she somehow wrested herself from the powerful hold of the vision. She held both hands up as though warding something or someone off.
Slowly, the club came back into view, still silent.
Ethan stood in front of her, just a few feet away, but he was blurred as though the strange vision had affected her eyesight. She breathed in heavy gulps and dizziness threatened to pull her to her knees.
She heard Ethan saying something like ‘back off’ or ‘get back’, she wasn’t sure. Even her hearing needed to catch up with the present.
She blinked several times and finally he came into focus. Her heart once more thudded and she found it hard to breathe. He was the one she wanted, had always wanted, would desire until the day she died.
A vampire.
Ethan.
Mastyr Ethan.
The remnants of the vision drifted away. A calmness came over her. He held her gaze steadily, looking both worried and angry, almost outraged as though she’d done something wrong.
But what had she done? What the hell had just happened to her? What was it she’d seen? Was this something that would soon happen and if it was, what responsibility did she have in this situation?
Her chest ached and she planted a fist against her sternum and rubbed. In the vision, he’d called her ‘a blood rose’. What did that mean and was this why her heart beat so hard in her chest? Ethan’s gaze fell to that fist and he shook his head back and forth as though he couldn’t help himself.
My God, did the vampire actually expect her to donate? Was that what it meant to be a blood rose? Well, if it did, he’d be waiting a really long time.
“I need to go home.” She pressed her lips into a resolute line making sure he understood her intention, despite the fact that something so outrageous had just happened.
His lips parted and he swallowed hard. He dipped his chin and looked away from her. “Yes. You should definitely leave and it would be best if you didn’t come back.”
“Wait, I don’t intend to return, but why would you say that?”
He lowered his chin. “Because I won’t be responsible for what happens to you next time.”
Her temper flared. “You weren’t responsible this time, Mastyr Ethan. I can take care of myself.”
His gaze shifted back to her and an odd light flitted through his eye, something close to respect. “Fine. Then come back as often as you like.”
“I will.”
He glanced around, his hard gaze landing on one male vampire after another. He watched as each faded into the crowd, never again looking at her yet at the same time avoiding Ethan’s glare.
She wasn’t sure, but she sensed a wave of possessiveness flow in her direction from Ethan, as though in some realm-like way, he’d staked his claim on her, warning other vampires to keep their distance.
In one sense, that wasn’t a bad idea since vampires gave her the creeps in the first place. But in another sense, the same possessiveness clung to her like a velvet cloak, and against all instinct, she wanted more.
If he glared, she returned his expression in full, which made her think that he didn’t like the situation any more than she did.
She said nothing more, but turned and headed back through the crowd, toward the entrance. Time to head home.
But had she actually had some kind of vision, a foreshadowing of the future? How the hell was that possible?
*** *** ***
Ethan watched the woman move in the pathway that led through the crowd all the way to the front door. She held her head high, but he sensed the depth of her confusion. She didn’t know what she was and no doubt she’d never had a vision before.
He’d wanted to detain her, to talk to her, even to offer some sort of reassurance that she wasn’t out of her mind, but some instinct held him back, a serious warning that the woman was trouble on all fronts.
Sweet Goddess, a blood rose in Shreveport.
Despite knowing that none of the rea
lm-folk would return to their fun until he’d given permission, all he seemed capable of doing was watching her walk out of the building.
Then, with the disappearance of his blood rose, his current need for blood roared back to life and he listed on his feet. Nausea swept over him and he gasped. A female vampire came up to him, one of his doneuses, thank the Goddess.
“Mastyr?” she asked quietly.
He nodded and took her by the elbow.
She knew the drill. She stepped up on his left foot, with her left foot, slid her arm around his neck, and the crowd made an even bigger pathway.
He flew her swiftly from the building rising higher into the air to breach the cars in the parking lot.
As he did, he felt a call on him, down and to the left. As he flew forward, he glanced into the dark parking lot below, and as his vampire vision warmed, he saw Samantha turn and look up at him, her eyes wide with astonishment. Maybe she didn’t frequent the prave so she probably hadn’t seen a vampire in flight before, or maybe not flying quite this high.
At the same time, his personal frequency vibrated and her thoughts were suddenly in his mind. That should be me. I should be feeding Ethan. Oh, what the hell am I thinking? What’s wrong with me?
So, she was capable of pathing, of telepathic communication. She probably didn’t know that either, but it was one more indication the woman had fae blood.
He shut down the accompanying flow of frustration and disbelief. His power was ebbing and thank the Goddess that the tree-line wasn’t far away.
As soon as he reached the first row of pines, he descended swiftly, the woman hopped off his booted foot, pulled her hair to the side and he was on her, his fangs nipping quickly, setting the blood to flowing. As he sucked down what was so necessary to him, but which he knew would barely satisfy his needs, his thoughts turned to Samantha, and he sucked harder, groaning against the woman’s neck.
After a minute, however, of being lost in the dream of drinking from Samantha, he realized his doneuse was pushing against him.
He drew back appalled to see tears in her eyes. “Anita, I’m so sorry.”
