by Roh Morgon
Oh my God, was that a joke? From Mr. Serious?
The tiger watches as we leave the exhibit but, like the mountain lions, doesn’t show the aggression of the wolves and the bears.
We pass a small enclosure with a Pallas cat. He is tawny and long-haired and about the size of a large housecat. He hisses from the shelter he’s lying in and retreats deeper inside.
A little farther up the path is one of the most beautiful cats I’ve ever seen. The sign states it’s a female snow leopard. She has a thick, ash-grey coat with dark spots, and pale, yellow-green eyes.
She sees us and snarls softly, then gets up and walks to the front of the enclosure. She stands there staring at Nicolas, who is staring back just as intently. The cat’s tail slowly swings from side to side as she gives little hisses, showing her fangs. Nicolas softly hisses back. It seems like they have some kind of connection.
“She is the reason I visit this place. Snow leopards are magnificent hunters, and I have met only one other huntress I admire more.” He glances at me, his dark eyes flaring red, and I smile in embarrassment. He looks back at the leopard and continues.
“When I first escaped from my Maker, I headed east into the mountains of what is now Kazakhstan. I ended up in a situation that necessitated I vary my diet from my normal preference. I learned where and how to hunt the various antelope, wild sheep, and goats from watching a young female snow leopard. She grew to tolerate my presence as long as I kept a respectable distance. She was the only companionship I had for many months.” His tone carries a hint of longing.
“You almost sound as if you miss those days,” I say carefully.
“The solitude and simpler life I do miss sometimes. Living off the land in less than adequate shelter? Surviving off of wild animals? No, those things I do not miss.” He tips his head and looks at me.
I try to imagine him living in those rugged mountains, and to my surprise he fits, in spite of his current-day GQ image. I remember when I took him hunting, how he moved so gracefully, like a big, sleek cat.
“So you have hunted animals in the past? Then the idea that I do is not so, well . . .” I stop, unwilling to verbalize what he might think of my primitive and barbaric hunting practices.
“Sunny, I have never had any judgment regarding your dietary choice. It is your choice. I do feel however, that it is a difficult one to manage, and that it is far easier and preferable to pursue the prey we evolved to hunt.” He reaches out and caresses my jaw.
I hate it when he talks about people like that.
“But,” he continues, “other Chosen are not so . . . understanding, and it would be best to keep your preferences to yourself. That is one of the matters I needed to clarify with Éva. She has sworn to make no mention of your situation.”
He looks at me in question and I nod my agreement.
Nicolas turns to the leopard sitting quietly and watching us. She silently hisses as his gaze falls back on her and he hisses softly back. Then, ready to leave, he holds out his arm for me to take, and we walk on.
Apparently having shown me all he felt was important, Nicolas speeds up the pace. We quickly pass the Australian exhibit area and the elephant yard, and head back toward the entrance. On our way, we pass the giraffes again, and I laugh out loud at the image of trying to bring one of those beasts down.
Nicolas looks at me and smiles. “I visualize using a ladder, and asking whether it would mind if I just took a few samples to see if there was any variation in taste as I scale the rungs.”
I burst out laughing again, and not just at the image he’s painted. That’s the second joke in less than an hour, and I’m glad to see his good humor finally resurfacing. He smiles, pulling me close as we exit the zoo.
CHAPTER 40
The Audi hugs the curves as it climbs the winding Pikes Peak road, and I feel like we’re flying. We dance through the turns in a smooth, effortless rhythm, one after another. Nicolas’s skill, paired with the graceful Audi, is pure artistry in motion. I’m fond of driving and consider myself to be pretty good behind the wheel, but I’m in awe as I watch him.
Nicolas glances over and smiles. “You appear to be enjoying the drive.”
“I’m in love with this car, and the way you handle it. I don’t even care about the scenery right now.” I look at him, my vision pink with emotion.
He glances back at me again with a flash of red in his eyes. I reach out and put my hand on his leg as we continue to wind up the mountain.
“I bought the R8 specifically for this road and come up here anytime I need to unwind, especially in the evenings. I enjoy the cleansing focus of the drive, and the serenity I find on top of the Peak.”
I quietly laugh.
“I’ve made those kinds of drives myself.”
Shifting my attention from Nicolas and the road, my eyes settle on the view rotating past the windows as we glide through the S-curves. I look out below us and marvel as I have before on the beauty of the Colorado landscape. I can see for hundreds of miles—forests, meadows, lakes, distant peaks, all in shades of greens, browns, and glittering blues, splashed with snow and set against the backdrop of a clear azure sky. I feel a bit like an eagle as the earth spirals beneath us, the car floating through the turns.
The road abruptly changes from asphalt to a compacted dirt surface. I look at Nicolas, surprised he would take this silver beauty on such a road, but he just slows the pace a bit and smiles.
“It is only a car,” he says, his eyes glinting with humor. “Why limit such a fine-handling machine?”
I laugh, fairly sure he’s accustomed to ignoring limits of just about any kind.
We stand gazing out at the peaks in the far distance that make up the Continental Divide. Nicolas is unusually quiet as he stares at the western horizon.
“Sunny, I want to talk with you about last night.” His tone is unreadable.
The lid on the black box slams open, and I’m instantly assaulted with the images and emotions of the previous evening.
I hesitate for a moment, then ask a little coldly, “What part?”
Nicolas takes a deep breath, then says, “You were . . . very upset with me.”
You mean when you fed me that pitiful boy? Or when you left me facing a closed door?
Sudden outrage chokes me, its bitterness sending a wave of nausea through my belly.
“Sometimes we have to make choices when options are limited, and they are not necessarily choices we would make under better circumstances.” The muscles in his jaw flex as he stares out into the distance. “You must know by now that I cannot stand to see you suffer in any way. I will do everything in my power to bring that suffering to an end, even though it may cost me your . . . goodwill.”
He turns to look at me, his green eyes dark and intense.
Though I feel like I was manipulated last night, the spark of doubt ignites as he speaks, because I have seen him agonize in the face of my pain.
“I am sorry if my actions to end your hunger were not necessarily what you would have wished. But it was the only option I felt open to me, and to you. I tried to present it in the least objectionable manner possible.
“I want you to understand the humans who offer themselves to us do so in full knowledge of what it may mean. They do not object to the price of the pleasure we give them. Skeeter has been a donor for quite some time now. He seems unwilling to live any other life.”
His tone is no longer apologetic as he studies me.
“Is he . . . is he all right? His arm, my teeth—” I whisper.
The image of the ragged mess my bite made swims into view again and it sickens me.
“He is fine. I attended the wound and it healed, leaving no scars.” He watches me as I consider what he just said.
“It’s already healed? Without any scars?” I ask, my anger dissipating against my will.
“My blood is very potent. I used it to seal the wound.”
As he says this, a new image bursts into my head,
of a different arm, in a different place. My place. The night Nicolas found me in the center of a red flower created by my blood.
I frown. “When you came for me, after the bear . . . I remember an arm, your arm . . .”
“Yes, I needed to preserve what little blood you had left in your body.” The shadow of that painful moment darts across his face.
“But didn’t I take a lot?” I remember drinking and drinking. “Why didn’t it heal me?”
“Because I only allowed a small amount. Enough to stop the bleeding and take the edge from your pain and hunger.” The serious expression on his face shifts, becoming tinged with worry. “And that brings us to the other matter about which we need to speak.
“When a Chosen takes in the blood of another Chosen, they also take in the emotions, and some of the essence as well. The more blood is taken, the more the taker is tied into the emotional state of the giver. It creates a connection, one that will slowly diminish with time. Unless, of course, the connection is renewed.” Nicolas steps closer and gently grasps my shoulders.
“When two Chosen take in the blood of one another, the connection is both ways, and much stronger. Should they prove compatible and choose to make a commitment to each other, they will make a complete blood exchange. We call this bonding. Bonded Chosen each experience emotionally what the other is feeling, and find it extremely difficult to function independent of one another. But they rarely wish to, as they feel . . . complete, like a single entity, when they are together. It is very rewarding, and no Chosen should go through their time here without experiencing this at least once.”
His green eyes search mine, and I have no answer, but the blood in my veins is beginning to heat up. I feel like I’m drowning in his dark emerald gaze and am dimly aware of my awe that he would have this conversation with me.
“Sunny, I have been alone a very long time, and had lately reached the point where retreat from Chosen society seemed more and more attractive. Until the day you came into my city, and I saw you standing across the street.
“And since then, my life has centered on you. I have, minus the actual physical act, bonded to you, and that is something I thought not possible at this stage in my existence.
“I love you beyond all reason, beyond all doubt, and wish to spend the remainder of my time with you, if you are willing.”
Oh God.
It feels as if the world has dropped out from beneath my feet. Though I haven’t imagined any other future since I met Nicolas, hearing him say it aloud . . .
“I, uh . . .” I can’t seem to choke the words out.
“Sshh.” he says, placing his fingertips gently on my lips. “Do not answer yet. I want you to take some time to think about this.
“You need to understand the depth of the bond to one another. The bond becomes the primary reason for existence. Each Chosen becomes the center of focus to the other, to the point that it seems free will is no longer available.” He brushes my hair back from my face.
“And this is why you and I must not . . . why I must be very careful. Last night, I almost gave in.” He pauses, his jaw clenching, his eyes blazing red.
“Under the circumstances, it would have been quite easy to go too far in our first sharing, which could have destroyed everything. Bonding without your knowledge, your understanding of what it truly means . . . the guilt I would have felt would have overwhelmed us both.” He pulls me close, hugging me tightly.
But that wouldn’t have mattered to me. This is where I belong. Right here in his arms. And I’m beginning to think I might be ready for forever.
“I want you to have this Choice, along with all the others that will come from sharing a life with me. It is a Choice you do not have to make now, and I would prefer for you to give it very careful consideration.” But the longing in his voice tells me he hopes I do this soon.
I nod, unable to speak, and he holds on to me as though he will never let me go.
Twilight on top of the world is absolutely amazing. The color changes first in the eastern sky, shifting from pale blue to medium blue, then deeper, until finally a dark indigo blanket is drawn east to west over the earth. As the sun starts to drop behind the Continental Divide in the west, the peaks of the Rockies are silhouetted by the golden glow. And then night literally falls as the sun is rapidly swallowed by the mountains.
I watch the sky, first in one direction, then the other, and am aware of Nicolas watching me.
“My sweet Sunshine. This is one of the things I love about you. Your zest, your enjoyment of new experiences and your surroundings are a gift to me. It freshens the world for me and enables me to look forward to the future once again.” His eyes contain a gentle hint of that amusement I love as he begins to speak, then they quickly darken with emotion.
“So did taking my blood last night . . . do you feel what I’m feeling?” I face him, curious.
“Yes, to some degree. I took very little as I only wished to demonstrate that you need not be concerned about the boy feeling any pain. I knew you would not believe me if I tried to explain it.” His eyes are soft as he strokes my cheek.
“Was it . . . enjoyable for you?” I recall the ecstasy of his fangs in my throat and the heat in my veins rises again.
“Ah.” Nicolas inhales sharply, his eyes flashing. “It was extremely so. As much for me as for you.”
My blood bursts into sweet flame as I grasp the implications of this.
He tenses, his eyes now blazing red.
“The concurrent exchange of blood between Chosen is indescribable. I can only say that it will surpass any experience you have ever had.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage to say through my own crimson haze.
He grows very still, then takes another breath, and carefully steps away from me to face the distant peaks.
My thoughts fade as the memory of his embrace last night sweeps over me.
Nicolas shoves his hands in his pockets and walks to the far end of the parking lot, his back stiff. I try to calm myself, as my reactions only seem to be making things worse.
Wow. This is interesting. I think I have an idea now how Chosen spend much of their time.
I suddenly giggle with embarrassment and my tension eases. Nicolas turns around in the distance and I can see that he’s relaxing as well. And grinning.
He wouldn’t need to be tapped into my emotions to guess what I’m laughing about.
CHAPTER 41
Nicolas gets back in the Audi after closing the gate near the bottom of the mountain. Apparently the Pikes Peak Highway closed several hours earlier and, apparently, Nicolas has special arrangements, along with the key to the gates.
The life of the rich and powerful. They follow no rules but their own.
“Nicolas, I have a question about what we discussed earlier.”
“I will do my best to answer any questions you have. Please, do not hesitate.”
“You gave me your blood when I was hurt. Why don’t I feel what you do?” I have been wondering about this since he explained about sharing blood.
“I only gave you enough to ensure your survival until I could get you back to the estate. What you did take in was immediately used to seal your veins and facilitate the healing process.” He frowns, as he does anytime we talk about what happened. “The crisis you were in—the pain, the hunger—was extreme enough to overpower any emotional effect such a small amount of my blood would have had.”
“Oh.” I hesitate, then take a breath. “Well, then, I have another question.”
“Go ahead,” he says, his voice straining to sound patient.
“How long do the emotional effects last, when there are any?”
“Ah. Well, it is dependent upon the amount of the blood taken in. Small amounts . . . a day or two maybe. The more taken, the longer the emotional tie.” He pauses and shifts the gears.
“Bonding is different, because it is a total exchange. I am not sure how long the effects actually last, because the pa
ir finds frequent renewal of the bond to be very satisfying.” He takes a breath as I vividly recall how he made me feel last night, and his hands tighten on the wheel.
I frown. This could get complicated if he reacts to my every random feeling.
“Sunny, my reactions . . . this is not quite typical. You do not have my blood to help moderate your responses, so right now I am a little at your mercy.” His mouth quirks as he glances at me.
I get to control Nicolas for a change? Seriously?
“For how long? Several days? This could be quite fun.” I laugh at the chagrin on his face.
“Or it could be dangerous if you can’t control your impulses. I may find it difficult to resist ravishing you if that is all you think about.” Now he’s smiling, a devilish smile.
“Me? You’re one to talk.” I shake my head, remembering the library, the garden, and the feelings that blossom anytime he holds me.
“Ahh . . . Will you please stop?” He looks at me, eyes blazing red.
I snicker and try to think of something else.
“Oh, I suppose. I’d hate for you to crush the steering wheel of this fine car.” I laugh, reach out, and muss up his hair.
He laughs as well, catching my palm and kissing it.
God, how I love him.
As we head back to the Springs, Nicolas says, “Do you mind if we stop by the club? I have some business that requires my attention. We do not need to stay long.”
A tingle races through my blood at the thought of the club and what, or who, is there.
I don’t like to think about what that means.
“I . . . uh, yeah. Okay.” The lid on the black box cracks open.
I watch the lights flash by the windows as we drive through the city. They remind me of the thoughts flashing through my mind, thoughts of what might lie ahead intertwined with the guilt-ridden memories of last night.
We pull into the parking lot at the side of the club and park. Nicolas gets out and opens my door, and I feel uneasy as we walk to the side door of the building. He stops and takes me by the shoulders.
