Sanctuary

by Tanith Frost

  Clara blushes.

  A tall young man enters the room. Bit of a pretty boy. His long hair is wet and dripping onto the shoulders of his grey Henley shirt. Blond, though the water makes his hair darker. He offers us a surprised but pleased look.

  “We have visitors, darling,” Clara says. Her voice is a little squeaky, but not unpleasant. “Are you ready?”

  Jeff grins. He looks like some kind of fairy tale woodcutter. Rough, but he cleans up well enough for a princess to see his potential when she loses her crown. “Absolutely.” He looks me and Daniel over, then Paul.

  Paul has already approached Clara with his hand extended. She accepts, and blushes again as she stands to go with him.

  “Take him to your room, Clara,” Delvin says. “Paul is most trustworthy, I assure you.”

  “I have no doubt,” she says, smiling.

  It’s amazing how blind they are. We care for them so well in the city that they don’t know how wise they would be to fear us.

  Delvin watches them go, then turns to us with a smile and an appraising glance. “You two, I’m less certain of. Jeff, have you met either of them before?”

  “Can’t say I have,” Jeff says, not sounding at all concerned. “You’re both from town?”

  “We are,” Daniel says. He doesn’t offer our names, and I’m glad of that. Delvin will know mine soon, but I’d like to keep things as impersonal with the rotating stock as possible.

  “As I said, I’m a little tapped out,” Delvin says, and sips his drink. “Feeling strong, but we’ll let you two decide what we’re doing. If that’s acceptable to our guest.”

  Jeff nods and shoves his hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. I get the impression that he just wants to get a move on. My kind of guy.

  Daniel and I turn to each other. I should back down. He’s older than me, and outranks me by a significant margin. I should let him have the stronger one.

  “You take Jeff,” he says before I can offer.

  There’s no chance I’m going to argue. I accept it like an order, but with a grateful nod.

  “Jeff,” Delvin says, “you and…” He trails off and waits expectantly.

  I grit my teeth. “Aviva.”

  He smiles. “Aviva can go to the study.”

  Jeff leads the way across the hall, opening the door for me to pass through ahead of him.

  The curtains are open, allowing moonlight to spill in, but it’s overpowered by the shaded lamp on the desk. I turn the light off, throwing the room into shadow.

  “That seems more like it,” Jeff says. He sounds a little scared now.

  Good.

  Everything about this situation is wrong. I should be taking him to a dark, private alcove while music outside covers whatever sounds we make, not to a stuffy office lined with someone else’s books while two others feed elsewhere in the house. I shouldn’t know his name, and he certainly shouldn’t know mine. When I think back on this meal, I want to remember his blood, his life, the specific smell and feel of him.

  He should be stock, not Jeff.

  And as I step toward him, I realize that I definitely didn’t want to know he’s married. I didn’t want to meet his wife in passing, or wonder if they have children they left behind for this little summer getaway.

  Separation is important. I’m hungry now, but I want stock. I don’t want Jeff from town with the adorable wife upstairs.

  I grit my teeth. I can’t think of him that way. It will ruin everything. No more names.

  At least he hasn’t dared to use mine.

  “Do you need a drink?” I ask him. It seems we don’t have our little vials here, the ones we pour into their drinks to relax them or excite them or anger them, depending on the experience we want to offer them or take for ourselves. I didn’t realize until now that the drugs are also an ideal distraction. No matter what we induce in them, they’re no longer thinking about what’s about to happen to them.

  Unless we choose to make them feel fear.

  My mouth floods with poisonous saliva, and I run my tongue over my fangs as I remember it. The man in the warehouse. His terror. The pleasure of it. The moment when his life ended and mine as a vampire truly began. No feeding since then has compared to it in the slightest.

  “N-no drink,” he says, catching the predatory look that must have come over my face. He leans back against the edge of the heavy wooden desk. God, this place is aggressively manly. “Delvin explained that we don’t have the special mixes here. It’s fine. I’m ready.”

  I chuckle in spite of myself. I really doubt he is.

  “Very well.”

  In two lightning-quick strides I’m standing in front of him, trailing my nails over the rough cotton of his shirt. He gasps.

  “I’ll be nice to you if you behave yourself,” I tell him. “No need to be afraid.”

  But he is. I can smell it on him. His previous encounters have all been helped along by mood enhancers, the club atmosphere, and the false feeling of security that comes from having so many stock around in the club.

  Here, it could just as well be me and him alone. Everyone else is occupied, and he’s realizing that he’s cut off from the herd.

  “Sit,” I order, and he moves to the low-backed leather sofa under the window. “Good. Try to relax.” I step closer and close the curtains, leaving us in near darkness. I can see him well enough, but to him I’m likely just bright eyes and whatever light reflects off my fangs when I speak.

  I want to hate myself a little for wanting him to be afraid, but I haven’t let myself taste this since that night. The hospital stock were confident and calm, and at the club, Daniel watched as I chose something that would bring my stock peaceful feelings. I didn’t want anyone to see me choosing fear. I have to let them think I no longer crave it, and I’ve been trying to convince myself of the same.

  But I can’t. I can’t hate what I am anymore. Katya was right when she said this is what we were made for. We are creatures of the void, the darlings of chaos.

  I won’t kill him. I’ll leave him satisfied, with no bad reports to offer to Miranda’s lackeys if they ask later. But as I place a hand on his shoulder and push him back to lie on the sofa, as his heartbeat races and his fear spikes so that I can smell it, I know that this will be good, and I will not be ashamed of enjoying it.

  “I won’t hurt you unless you want me to,” I whisper in his ear. He exposes his throat to me, trembling but completely submissive. I wouldn’t have been opposed to a challenge, but this will do.

  I brush his long, damp hair back and lean in closer. My breasts brush over his chest, and he jerks involuntarily as I inhale the scent of his skin, trailing my nose from his ear to the base of his throat.

  I move quickly, before he can be distracted from his fear. My fangs sink into the thin skin of his throat, and he gasps at the pain. It should be familiar to him by now, but he’s used to being distracted. This is likely his first time experiencing a feeding without any chemical filter, raw and real. He struggles for a moment, then relaxes as the poison in my saliva enters his bloodstream. It can’t be more than a hint of it—most of the flow is outward. But it’s enough. His struggle subsides, and he relaxes beneath me.

  I settle myself against him, pinning his hips below mine, holding his shoulders beneath my hands in case he tries to move. He doesn’t seem to mind. Now that he’s relaxed, the fear is gone. He wanted to be here, and knows what he’s doing.

  I try not to wish for it to be otherwise.

  His blood warms me to my core. Renewed strength flows to my muscles, and my mind becomes clearer. But something’s wrong. It’s not as strong as it should be. I pull back slightly as I consider this, licking at the blood that flows from him.

  He’s fed someone recently. The wounds have healed, but I can feel it in him. He stopped at the club for his fix before they came out.

  Bastard.

  My fingers dig into his shoulders, and pain mixes with his pleasure. I taste that, too, as I clamp
my lips back down on the flowing wounds. It’s not the same as fear, but it’s good. It makes him nervous, too. He’s nearly delirious with the pure, unadulterated effects of my poison, but he feels my anger.

  Good. He should know better than to try to cheat us.

  He struggles again and tries to mumble something.

  I should stop. I’ve taken as much as I need to get my strength back, or at least as much of it as I can expect to get from him in his current state. But I keep feeding. And as he grows weaker, the strength I draw from each drop of blood increases. He’s approaching the edge of unconsciousness. Beyond that lies death in all its wonder and power.

  My instincts threaten to take over, wakening within me. Power beyond physical strength floods me, bringing the room and my victim into sharp focus. I no longer care at all who he is, only what he can do for me.

  I wrench my mouth away from his throat before he passes out.

  He draws a sharp breath.

  “You fed someone recently.” I push off from his shoulders, leaving him prone on the sofa.

  He looks around the room helplessly. I turn the light on so he can see my displeasure, and he blinks against the sudden glare. He likely has a headache by now from the blood loss.

  “I… it was before we left. We took our time camping across the island, and I thought…”

  “Shut up.” I sit on the edge of the desk and lean forward. “You’re not to think. You are to obey. How long do you think you’ll last with us if you’re not providing what we need?”

  He blinks again and doesn’t answer.

  “This isn’t a game. You’re lucky I didn’t take more of your weak, sorry excuse for blood and leave you next to death. And you and your lovely wife certainly won’t be welcomed back at the club if word of this gets out.”

  I won’t threaten killing. Such a possibility can’t be allowed to cross their minds if we want them to feel safe. But I need him to understand my displeasure, and next to death I can’t think of a better threat than revocation of his club privileges.

  He sits up too quickly and falls forward on the carpet, landing on his hands and knees in front of me.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” he gasps, and sits back on his heels. He reaches out to touch one of my boots, but stops himself when he looks up and meets my gaze. “I didn’t mean to cheat you. We didn’t know how long we’d be waiting out here before someone came, and I… I didn’t mean any harm, I swear. Please don’t kick us out. Please.”

  He’s an idiot, but he seems like an honest one. Deeply addicted, too. They shouldn’t crave us for weeks between bites. Some can go a month without coming back. Yet there he was in that living room, looking desperate after a few days.

  I honestly don’t know whether he and his wife would be rejected over this, but he believes me. That’s all I need.

  “I’ll keep this quiet,” I tell him. “Reporting you would be more trouble than you’re worth. But you’ll want to watch yourself when you get back to town. Others will not be so merciful if you cheat them as you did me.”

  He nods, head hung low. “Thank you.”

  I’m still pissed. I’ve fed, and blood is blood. But even without fear, even without killing, it should have been better. Is this what it’s going to be like out here? Taking what’s offered, feeding from Delvin, who probably offers himself once a week? I didn’t appreciate the variety at the Inferno when I was in training, never having experienced anything but plentiful stock and those enticing vials available for a small price. I understand now how good we have it in our system. We may not get the full benefit of blood when we can’t kill, but we’ve cultivated a steady supply of victims who beg us to feed from them.

  That’s no small victory. The elders changed everything when they started the clan system and destroyed those who didn’t play along.

  I slip from the desk, barely missing his hands with the toes of my boots as I land. “You’re dripping on the carpet.”

  Delvin is already waiting in the living room when I return. “Will you be giving them anything to help with healing?” I ask.

  He nods. “We’re almost out. I’d hoped they’d bring more supplies from town. One moment.”

  He disappears down the hall and returns a minute later with a glass bottle of clear liquid. He adds a splash to a glass of whisky. “Everything satisfactory?”

  “Fine,” I say as I sit on the leather sofa, but my voice doesn’t hide much.

  Delvin carries the whisky across the hall, then returns and sits next to me. It seems overly familiar, but allows me to catch a whiff of the faint scent that comes off his skin. I wouldn’t know what it was had I not been feeding off a few of his kind for the past few months. Delvin has the blood factor that gives him the potential to become a vampire after death. This is why Miranda is willing to let him open his home, why she trusts him to keep our secrets. If he’s as smart as I think he is, he understands that the system will benefit him some day.

  “That will cloud his memory a little,” he says, nodding at the little glass bottle of whatever he added to Jeff’s drink. “Much like what they get at the club, minus the emotion.”

  “Thank you.”

  He leans back in the sofa. “Daniel is up on the balcony, if you’re looking for him.”

  “And Paul?”

  “Hasn’t come out yet.”

  I glance up the stairs. “Your home is lovely. do you hope to come back here after the change?” It would be unusual if he did. We’re not allowed to cling to our lives after death. I wonder whether it’s any different for a hermit like Delvin, or in a place like this.

  “That would be ideal, but it won’t be up to me.” He looks around the comfortable sitting room. “City life doesn’t appeal to me. Perhaps if no one else volunteers to host stock here, though, I’ll be allowed to return. Some day.” He doesn’t sound hopeful about the prospect.

  I turn to look out the window that gives a good view of the small yard. “If you did some landscaping work and had more to draw people, they might be more eager to come. You could make yourself indispensable. Give the elders no choice but to let you come back.”

  He chuckles. “A bed-and-breakfast for the vampirically addicted? Perhaps a cross-country ski trail would draw stock in the winter.”

  “Couldn’t hurt.” I offer a cold smile, all I can manage right now. “You might get them in from outside the province if you woo them hard enough.”

  He nods and downs the rest of his drink. “If only I were more naturally hospitable, eh?”

  I leave him and climb the stairs, following the hallway to a door at the end that leads to a small wooden balcony where Daniel stands watching the moonlight reflecting off the river. He turns, and even in my current mood his presence sends an electric tingle over my skin. At least there’s one guy here I can rely on to satisfy me, assuming he’s up for it. And judging by the predatory look he’s giving me, my night might end on a better note than it began.

  I stand beside him, then lean over the railing. There’s a good view of the town from up here.

  “Feeling better?” Daniel asks.

  “He was as drained as Delvin must have been. Made a stop at the club before they came out.”

  He looks up at the moon, which is now noticeably past full. I wonder whether that means the female wolves will be able to talk to us soon. “Unfortunate,” he says. “I’ll see what I can do when I get to town about getting you better stock.”

  “Have they called you back?”

  “No.”

  No. But he’s thinking about it, eager to leave. I can’t blame him. This place is utter bullshit so far.

  Voices echo from the town below. Young men, yelling and laughing, though at this distance even my keen ears can’t pick up what they’re saying. The night is a novelty to them. Its darkness feels dangerous, but they think nothing bad could happen to them in this tiny town.

  Good thing for them we’re repressed monsters, ones who pretend living human blood doesn’t beckon us to hunt
, to feed, to kill. We could be their worst nightmare, yet we hold back.

  I run my tongue over my teeth and fight back thoughts of what it would be like to show them what danger really is.

  Chapter Six

  A knock at my door snaps me out of a dreamless sleep. It takes me a moment to orient myself.

  Another knock, harder and more frantic.

  I sit up and give my head a hard shake to clear the cobwebs. The clock on the dresser says it’s only seven thirty in the evening, not even sunset. Daniel joined me in my room after we returned to the compound, both of us taking advantage of the strength and stamina imparted by our feedings. I probably shouldn’t have wasted what I got from mine, and we were up far too late, but it was worth it—even if he slept in his own bed again, making his exit without explanation. He actually seemed ashamed. Not of the sex, but of… well, nothing he seems eager to talk about.

  But still.

  God knows if or when I’ll get laid after he leaves, and being with him made me feel better about what was missing from my meal, filling me and restoring me, pushing me toward a feeling that’s an echo of living. I needed that after my disappointing feed.

  No. I need to stop whining if I’m going to survive this place. I got spoiled when I trained under Daniel, feeding on the best of the available stock at the Inferno. If I fuck up this assignment, I’ll be at the other end of the spectrum, unable to afford the good vials that will bring the best stock to me. I was sheltered from that reality while I was training, but I know not every vampire lives as well as the rogue hunters and crime-scene techs I’ve associated with so far. I want to be part of the elite, the well-fed, the ones who are on the path toward power. This is a good reminder to me of what I’m working for.

  Besides, I have no right to complain about the meal when the dessert Daniel offered was so damn good.

  Another knock. It must be Daniel again, though I can’t think what might have him so frantic.