Roseblood

by Emily Shore

  Authenticated.

  I jerked my hand back, jumping a little when the doors shuddered open. I studied Skip with the obvious question circling my head like a vulture.

  “Blood DNA authentication device. Only descendants of the ones buried here may enter.”

  “And yet, I'm stepping in?” I let that sink in.

  “As my guest,” clarified Skip and extended his hand to me. I took it, a little wary but also honored that he was sharing this with me. I tightened my spine, hoping it would choke the goosebumps on my skin.

  The burial room was large and circular with a domed ceiling constructed of stone. Spotlights spewed light on the various coffin inscriptions. Some were closed coffins, others possessed glass surfaces so I could see the bodies inside. Skip lingered in front of one and pressed his hand to the glass. Inside was an old vampire, body preserved through vampire embalming methods. Though he didn't have the same gold dust hair, there were a couple small similarities between him and Skip.

  “Henry Abraham Erickson,” I read the inscription on the coffin aloud.

  “My mother’s father.”

  “How did he die?”

  “During the first World War with the wolves. My father's father still lives, but we rarely see him since his clan resides in New York.”

  “New York?” There was no filter for my eagerness at learning more about Skip’s family. Vampires were private regarding their personal ties―a safety precaution since clans often battled each other for territory, for rich feeding grounds.

  “The Whites originated in New York. It was my father’s decision to uproot his family and come to Le Couvènte. My father was a simple man, a scholar really, but he came from a long line of monarchs, so he moved to Le Couvènte to escape his inevitable fate.”

  I touched one daring finger along the glass, tracing the edge until my finger collided with Skip’s hand. “And yet he ended up ruling here?”

  “For ten years.”

  “Have you ever thought about returning to New York?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, let me put it this way…” I smirked, tapping his knuckle. “You don't strike me as a simple man or a scholar.”

  Skip smiled, turning his eyes, slow, to scrutinize me. “And what sort of man do I strike you as, Reina Caraway?”

  Grateful the darkness concealed my cheeks beckoning blood, I bit my lower lip for a good, long second. I waited for my lungs to harness as much oxygen as they could before responding. “You speak like a poet, you walk like a king, and you stare at everyone you meet like a god…except for me.” Skip waited, summoning me to finish with that same unwavering stare that defined him when he looked at me. “You stare at me like a phantom, and it scares the hell out of me.” I breathed almost a gasp. “But there’s no going back.”

  “Do you know why the Phantom haunts Christine?” Skip offered another theory and wandered around the outline of the coffin, circling its body. “Because he is powerless without her. He pushes her to the very brink of what she is capable of. He never stops because he is so terrified of losing his control over her. Once he does…” Skip stopped just behind me, breath creeping into my hair like cold cobwebs as he finished, “There is nothing left but the scrap of clothing that is his face. So, in a real sense, she haunts him just as much as he does her.”

  I was ready to turn when Skip captured the edges of my hair, fingers crawling across the curls to sweep them to one side of my neck so he could touch my throat. When he pressed two fingers down on my quickening pulse, Skip asked, “Do you trust me, Rin?”

  I considered the question.

  Normal human instincts caused them to run from predators. Mine were damaged from a lifetime spent with them. I left caution to my family members. They could be protective. But I was an all or nothing girl. Resolved years ago that I couldn’t be afraid of what goes bump in the night or else I couldn’t take one step outside my house. Fearlessness felt more freeing than wondering if I was always a bloody dessert. My family had more pressure, but they could cope more.

  So, I squared my shoulders and faced him, careless of how his fingers slid in response and teetered on the edge of my collarbone.

  “Even if I were to…?” Skip escalated, baring his fangs. They caught just a tip of the spotlight before he dove toward my neck as if testing me. I’d show him a queen tonight.

  “You won't,” was all I had to say, dropping my arms to the sides and closing my eyes, reveling in the veins of fire spreading across my skin like warm venom.

  Skip paused, fangs printing the edge of my collarbone before he angled his head to ask, “Why?”

  “This—” I touched a finger to my neck near where his mouth hovered and continued, “—is too easy for you. You’re not done training me yet.” I waited another moment until Skip retracted his fangs and retreated. I hoped he couldn’t tell I was holding my breath.

  “It seems I underestimated you,” proclaimed Skip and righted himself, tugging at the hem of his untucked white button up. “You're not only bold, you're perceptive.”

  “I'll take that as a compliment.”

  “Don't. I'm not sure how I feel about your perception yet.”

  “She's been perceptive since she was six years old.”

  Both of us paused at the familiar voice. I wasn't remiss how Skip’s entire body tensed.

  I turned around. “Raoul.”

  My cheeks almost burned from the memory of Raoul’s tantalizing kiss. Next to me, Skip furrowed his brow when the doors opened before Raoul, and the young vampire posed a question so obvious, how could I have missed it?

  “How does a bitten base-born such as yourself afford the privilege of entering here? You have no ancestors in Le Couvènte.”

  “I have an old friend buried here,” dictated Raoul, striding closer to me. “When I reached the position of Guardian, Enton Carolton granted me permission to visit her. So, my DNA was logged into the system a fortnight ago.”

  “Convenient.”

  In an underground burial vault with two vampires, both of whom were not just attracted to me but also seemed ready to skin one another. What on earth was I doing?

  “I should probably go home now,” I mentioned just as the doors closed. “Is there some sort of secret passcode to get out?”

  Skip shook his head. “No, just the blood prick again. An extra precaution.”

  “Your family invited me over for dinner on Friday night, Reina,” Raoul interjected as I followed Skip to the door. “Please let them know I will join you.”

  “Will do.”

  “Curse you!” Skip bellowed before slapping a hand to the stone wall, removing a chink.

  “What's wrong?” I hurried toward the gate, fearing the worst.

  “The DNA feature is malfunctioning. I've tried the prick twice and nothing is happening.”

  “Stay calm.” Raoul tried to assuage Skip while approaching. “Let me try. Perhaps it's too soon since I entered and requires my DNA instead.”

  Skip took one step back and allowed Raoul to try the prick. Riveting my gaze on the doors, I watched and waited. No hum and no mechanical shiver. Nothing. The doors of bones and teeth were worse than ice. Ice could melt, ice could break. These doors would not.

  My heartbeat thumped. I was a human trapped underground with two vampires. How lovely.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Craving

  While the tension in the room began to overheat, I crumpled into a corner in the cavern shadowed by a coffin. Best not to get too close to a vampire argument. And Raoul and Skip had a history. In this moment, I felt like Christine. Trapped in the Phantom’s dismal lair. The corpses and coffins completed the visual.

  “You were the last one to walk through that door. You must have done something,” accused Skip before trying the pricking mechanism once more but to no avail.

  “I give you my word that I did no such thing.”

  “Your word counts as fertilizer as far as I'm concerned, Kelley.”

 
“I'm certain there's a reasonable explanation. And getting angry will fix nothing, nor will it be any good to Reina.”

  Both vampires turned to me, noticing my retreat to the corner. Unfortunately, I couldn’t scold them like my brothers.

  Instead, I lifted my hand in a shy wave. “Let me know when you two figure it out. I'll be right here.” I drew my legs close to my chest to embrace them. Admitting I could do nothing wasn’t weakness; it was reality.

  Raoul was the first to advance toward me while Skip tested the strength of the door. By the way his brow creased in concentration, I knew he was exercising his persuasive abilities. For one second, I heard a weak scraping, and my hopes lifted, but between Skip puffing through his nostrils and how he slammed one of the immovable bones, I knew his persuasion hadn't worked. How could it work on my wings but not this?

  Raoul knelt beside me, concerned. “I'm certain we'll find a way out of this.”

  “And if you don't, the two of you fighting over your only food source will make for a good show,” I joked, almost choking on the poor taste.

  As expected, Raoul donned a scowl before cupping my knee. “That wasn't funny, Reina.”

  “I'm sorry.” My dark humor did little to lighten the mood. Burning the bones wasn’t an option. Even if I could melt them, I could never bring myself to desecrate not only Skip’s father’s bones but several others’ as well.

  “Try to keep your spirits up,” Raoul encouraged me. “Skip and I will keep working.”

  I covered one side of my face and leaned in to whisper, “Are you sure that's a good idea? He looked like he was ready to bite your head off.”

  Raoul stood, winking at me. “Don’t worry. I can handle him.”

  I shut my mouth and observed both vampires as they lowered their voices to speak, conversation strained. In the dim lighting, their tense veins glowed like narrow lasers under their skin. No cell service as this tunnel was designed for isolation without signal. No items to use as leverage to break the door. At best, someone would come for a visit today, find us, and send for help. At worst, Raoul and Skip would outlive me, depending on how recently they'd fed. My hope was on the former. After all, Heath or Brian would notice my absence. My family would track my scent…all over Le Couvènte if necessary. But would they reach us in time? Already, I knew I was infusing the air like a bloody teabag. Make that a smorgasbord of bloody teabags for two very agitated vampires.

  As their argument intensified, I dug my fingers into my scalp, feeling a headache coming on. The artificial lights in the dark cave didn't help. I was losing my patience. After another few minutes, I slapped the cavern wall and muttered some choice expletives. Something stirred inside me. A volcano rumbled in my blood, shaking the walls of my heart in its haste to escape. Despite the chilled environment, a growing burn prickled my hands. The heat traveled into my fingertips, strengthening. I wanted air. No, I needed air. All I could think of was the image of my dead body and if my nightmares’ prediction would come true.

  “Rin…” Skip’s voice, laced with concern, punctured the air. I was knotting my hands into my skull, trying to quell the heat in my skin. A second later, I felt his hand cupping my chin, drawing my face upward, willing my eyes to open. “You're burning up.”

  Suddenly, Raoul swept to my side and mimicked Skip’s movements, palm touching my forehead, knuckles rubbing across my cheek. “She's sweating,” Raoul commented before glancing around. “It must be no more than fifty degrees down here.”

  My throat felt like rusted iron, and my lungs practically grew claws and scratched their way past my rib cage. “I'm…I'm having trouble…breathing. Need the door to open!” My nightmare…my dead self.

  Skip turned his back to me to eye the door, emerald eyes narrowing to concentrated slits. The next thing I knew, the mechanism clicked, following with the recognizable hum as they swung open. Like a banshee fleeing hell, I got to my feet, scrabbled past the doors, and charged round the corners to the exit. With each step, I longed for the heat to disperse, the volcano inside me to implode into an ashy crater. Raoul and Skip didn't try to stop me, just kept pace with me until we’d all reached the surface. Fresh air became a life-preserver.

  But it still didn’t stem the fire. I needed to temper it. Something inside me understood only one thing would satisfy it: silver blood.

  Raoul placed his hand on the small of my back as I bent over, breaths struggling to stabilize. But Skip was the one who took me by my arms and urged me to straighten.

  “More air will come if you stand,” he informed me, eyes flicking back and forth against mine.

  Raoul cupped my elbow. “I should get her home―”

  “No,” I insisted, pointing to Skip, still panting, still plagued by the conflagration roiling in my veins.

  Skip agreed. “I’ll do it this time.”

  Raoul did not cower or relent, but he looked to me for confirmation, placing my consent on the highest pedestal. My nod was good enough for him. A moment later, Raoul disappeared into the woods at vampire speed, respecting my wishes.

  Just as Skip anchored a hand on my waist, ready to carry me to my home, I touched his hand, delaying him.

  “Rin?” he questioned, brows descending. His nostrils flared at the same moment he planted the back of his hand against my forehead. “You’re running a fever.”

  I pressed a hand to his chest, gasping. Raoul wouldn’t have been so open-minded. Not progressive enough like Skip. Raoul would have taken me home. But I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing was enough. Too acute, my senses overwhelmed me. I could hear the beating of Skip’s heart, pulsing wondrous silver blood. Pure born vampire blood in his veins. Not sweet and intoxicating. Not addictive. But rich enough, satisfying enough. My blood warmed, flushing the skin beneath my cheeks.

  “What are you doing?” Skip wondered as I marched towards him.

  “My skin is on fire,” I almost screamed.

  All I could focus on was his jugular and the pulse throbbing in his wrist. Instinct caused me to go for the wrist. He was too tall for me to go for the jugular. Other than a momentary flinch, Skip didn’t react when I seized his wrist and lowered my mouth to it. But I forgot one major thing: I had no fangs. No means of puncturing the impenetrable vampire skin.

  Desperate, I gazed up at Skip, a low growl building in my throat. My voice cracked, fiery lumps clogging my words. He leaned closer, eyes voyaging across mine, back and forth as if debating. At his mercy, I could do nothing. My teeth would sooner break on vampire skin than ever hope to penetrate it.

  “You want it?” He pivoted his wrist that I still held close to my face.

  I threw my hair back so it didn’t invade my cheeks or my neck. Even if I couldn’t see the blood desire in my eyes, I could still feel it. They’d grown warmer. Bursting red. I salivated over his jugular pumping silver blood. Rich, chilling ecstasy. Desiring, craving, needing,

  One moment was all it took. One moment for Skip to unleash his fangs and puncture double marks in his wrist. Enough for a tiny rivulet of silver blood to weep. Enough for me to close my lips around the sight and suck the blood. I moaned as it glided down my parched throat into my body to bond with the rest of me. Skip’s blood was fire and ice. Rich and bitter. Now, I knew why silver blood wasn’t as appealing. It was too contrasting. Never enough of one or another. Too much of both worlds. But for me, it was satisfying enough to stoke the ash inside me until I could feel human again.

  When I finished sucking, when I finally pulled away, the blood desire in my pupils fading, I opened my mouth, too stunned to know what to say. I’d feasted on Skip’s silver blood straight from his skin. An act so intimate, even the most controlled of Le Couvènte vampires refused to do so beyond their own spouses. And I was…human.

  “Don’t concern yourself, Rin,” Skip assuaged my guilt, my astonishment at the event. “All this…” He shook out his wrist, leftover silver drops sprinkling the air, one landing on my cheek. “Perhaps you need a blood bitch at this stage o
f your life.” He smeared his thumb across my cheek to transfer the silver blood before offering me the remnants. “I am happy to oblige.”

  I hesitated for one moment before I licked the glittery splotch of blood from his thumb and sighed while hoping, praying that I would never crave human blood.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dad’s Conclusion

  After arriving at my house, Skip and I discovered Dad speaking on the porch with Enton Carolton. Both of them opened their mouths in surprise at Skip’s appearance with me. As we approached, Enton shook hands with Dad, glanced our way to nod at me before he unfurled his wings and departed from our property. Whatever business they were discussing, I guessed it had to do with me.

  “What's going on?” I asked Dad while dropping down from Skip’s shoes, the vampire’s hand steady on my waist.

  “I could ask you the same.” My father screwed his brows down, eyeing Skip. “Good evening, Stefan.”

  “I invited your daughter to accompany me today to my father’s grave. We were interrupted, but I ensured she got home in one piece.”

  My father’s posture remained straight, lofty, exceeding even Skip’s grandeur. “Thank you. Please alert me in the future. I trust my daughter’s judgement, but I would still appreciate notification.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Skip touched my shoulder once, squeezing as if reminding me of what needed no reminders. My tranquil gaze lingered on him, his hair like gold harp strings the last I saw before the redwoods consumed him.

  “Enton just informed me the Council has taken a suspect into questioning.” My father wasted no time in informing me of the Council spokesman’s presence. “Another human body was just found, mangled again, suspected wolf kill. They are questioning Charlotte DuBois, Reina.”

  Guilt gnawed on my insides. After what I’d witnessed the other night, I felt partially responsible. Why couldn’t these dreams show me more? What was the point of them all?