by Roh Morgon
“And you need to make some hard decisions. If you are going to be with Nicolas, you must be able to hold your own and not be a weak spot in his defenses.” Her tone is harsh, but her words ring true.
“Éva!” Nicolas growls.
“I will stop now, but it needed to be said, and be said so that you both hear it.”
Éva walks out of the room.
Nicolas is silent as we head home in the rental car that Robert brought from the airport. Johan has taken the van loaded with the bodies somewhere. To where, I don’t know. And I don’t want to know, but I grieve for all those lives that were cut short.
Nicolas reaches out and rubs my leg reassuringly as we pull through the raven gates and up the driveway.
We park in front, and he gets out and opens my door. I step from the car, and as I look at the house, I feel the sadness take hold. And it’s more than for the lives lost tonight. It’s for the fact that I can stare calmly at bloody human bodies piled in a room and not go into hysterics at the sight. That I am becoming more and more like The Chosen and I don’t know where it’s going to end.
Nicolas pulls me to him and hugs me.
“This . . . melancholy.” He shakes his head and sighs, then takes my hand. “Come.”
We go in and he leads me up the stairs. But instead of turning left toward my bedroom, he veers right, and we go down a long hallway that ends in a set of double doors.
He opens one of the doors and we walk into a huge bedroom. The colors are rich and dark: burgundy, deep forest green, black, with touches of gold here and there. The bed is a large elaborately carved poster bed and hung with heavy black and burgundy draperies. It’s fit for a king and looks to be centuries old. Hell, it probably belonged to a king. A sitting area next to the window contains a sofa, chair, and small table.
He walks us past priceless art lining the wall to a door at the other end of the room. It leads into a bathroom, which has a room-sized Jacuzzi and a huge, glassed-in shower with multiple faucets on the three walls. All of the fixtures in the room are gold, and the intricate porcelain tiles appear handmade.
He takes me inside, then stops on an elegant rug in the middle of the floor. Facing me, he strokes my hair, then looking into my eyes, he starts unbuttoning my blouse.
My breath stops.
He very gently brushes the blouse from my shoulders and runs his hands down my waist. My blood heats up as his hands move to the front of my jeans and he unfastens them. He slowly pushes them down past my hips and, bending his knees, to the floor. He unzips and pulls off first one boot, then the other, and the jeans are next. He shoves the pile of clothing out of the way.
He then stands very slowly, his hands retracing their path up my body, followed by his lips. I gasp and can barely breathe. When his hands reach my shoulders, they continue up to my jaw, and he gently holds my face. His lips brush mine, softly.
I break the spell he has me under enough to reach out and unbutton his torn and bloody shirt. He takes it off as I undo his slacks. I push them to the floor, and he steps out of his clothing and shoes and kicks them to the side.
We stand completely naked, and I wait, blood flaming sweetly in my veins. He smiles and strokes my hair again, then leads me over to the shower. Turning on all the faucets, he pauses a moment for the water to heat up, then leads me in.
The water is deliciously hot and pummels me from three sides. I close my eyes as it washes over my body, and then I feel Nicolas’s hands, slick with soap, slowly rub my back.
I can’t recall the last time I had my back washed.
Standing there, I relish his touch, my eyes closed as he washes me all over. He stops a moment, then gently moves me underneath the spray. I tilt my head back and enjoy the sensation of the water running through my hair.
I straighten and open my eyes to see Nicolas watching me, his eyes flaming crimson. The tips of his fangs press against his bottom lip, and my blood flares again in excitement.
I take what’s left of the crushed bar of soap from his hand.
“Turn around,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. He does so and inhales sharply as I touch his back and begin washing it. I massage it top to bottom and can feel his soft growls in response. I move my hands around his ribcage to his chest and soap it as well, pressing myself closely against his back.
As my hands move to his waist, he grabs and holds them for a moment, then turns back around.
He slowly pushes me up against the wall and pins me there with his body, then bends to kiss my shoulder. He shifts and the sharp points of his fangs trace the veins across the top of my breasts. The water hitting the shower floor is now pink and my excitement surges. I move my mouth to his shoulder and take hold of it with my teeth.
He groans and I bite harder. He gasps, and then slowly pulls his body back, and I let go.
Watching my face, he reaches up and slices the inside of his upper arm, where the bicep curves and meets the shoulder. Blood wells, and I can feel his eyes on me as I first lick, then bite the gaping wound. I start to draw in his blood and can feel him in it as it fills my mouth. Everywhere that his blood—his essence—touches is a caress, and it brings instant bliss. The liquid him bathes my throat, then floods into my system and finally traces its way throughout all my veins. His blood now mingles with mine. He is now part of me.
I stop breathing. His body wraps around mine, and he slowly sinks his fangs into the side of my throat. The sharp pain is exquisite, and a soft moan escapes from deep within me.
He waits, and I wait, then I pull, and he pulls. The feeling of him drawing my blood out as I am drawing his in is surreal. It’s an ecstasy beyond words, making all the recent pleasures in my life pale into insignificance. I gasp, and as my knees give out, we slowly sink to the floor.
The hot water continues to bathe our outsides while the hot blood bathes our insides. I can feel him in every tissue of my body, and for the first time in my entire life, all my lives, I feel complete.
I pull again as he pulls, and feel us descending into a bottomless rapture. I am enveloped by him inside and out, and groan with the rightness of it. He growls and holds me tighter, nearly crushing me, and I revel in it.
I start to draw again, but his hand pushes gently against my mouth. He releases my neck.
No, don’t stop, I don’t want to stop. Not ever.
I let go and start to cry as I am completely overwhelmed by emotion, both mine and his. I can feel his intense love and protectiveness and need, and I’m awed by the depth of his passion for me, and by the profound love it triggers for him. He holds me tighter as he feels my response, and clinging to him, I cry even harder. My chest aches with my sobs, but oddly, so do my eyes, and then I realize they are wet, and it is not from the water.
Tears. I have tears. I reach up to touch them, and when I look at my fingers, they are covered in blood.
And part of me weeps harder still, for tears of blood can only mean that what’s left of my human side is slowly fading away.
Nicolas strokes my hair, and whispers, “I am sorry.”
április 21., szombat
Tonight we became as one. Nothing in my long life had prepared me for the intensity of our emotions, and I wept in rhapsody, as did she. And like mine, her tears were bloodtears. She is Changing, and I can feel her fear so strongly now. I wish I could ease it, but this is something we all must go through.
I do know this—after five hundred years of searching, she is the One.
SUNDAY
CHAPTER 48
I slowly open my eyes, and reaching for Nicolas, I already know that he’s not here. I roll over and look around the room, but the heavy drapes are drawn, and I have no idea what time of day it is. My robe is lying across the foot of the bed—he must have brought it from my room before he left.
Blurry memories of last night surface and reawaken my longing for him. I barely remember Nicolas lifting me out of the shower and drying me off as I was still too caught up in our emotions and unab
le to move. He carried me to his bed, then curled up around me as I drifted off to sleep. I have a vague recollection of him slipping out of bed sometime later.
Getting up, I peek through the drapes to look out at the day. It appears to be late morning and the sun is shining brightly. Hmm.
I throw on my robe and head to my room to get dressed, wondering what Nicolas has planned for the day.
Quickly slipping on a long-sleeved blouse and a pair of jeans, I walk back to Nicolas’s bathroom to get my boots and clothes from yesterday. The boots are sitting by the door, but my clothes are gone. They must be in the laundry, which would mean Marie is back.
At that thought, the hunger perks up a little, but then fades away. That’s odd. I frown and go back to my room to get a pair of socks. As I walk in, Nicolas’s cell phone rings from my bag on the dressing table. Last I saw it was in the Ferrari. Guess he must’ve brought it in.
I fish the phone out of my bag and flip it open.
“Hello,” I say warmly.
“Good morning,” he says. My blood thrills to the rich sound of his voice.
“Good morning.”
“You slept well.” He says it as a statement rather than a question.
“Yes, I did. I just got up a few minutes ago. Are you at the club?”
“Yes. It will take some time to put things back in order. We will likely not be able to reopen for a day or two, which is a bit of an inconvenience.”
Yeah, I’ll say. Where do Chosen eat when their only restaurant gets shut down?
“Do you need any help?” I ask.
Except—cleaning up might give me a bit of a problem. The thought of the blood spattered from one end of the club to the other stirs the hunger again, and again it fades away.
God, I can’t even think about blood anymore without a reaction.
I need to go hunt. Run something down, wrestle it to the ground, and feed until I can’t take in any more. All I’ve been doing is snacking for the last few days. Hell, since the damn bear attacked me. My frustrations surge and I squeeze my fists.
But not too hard.
“Sunny? Are you there?” Nicolas has a note of concern in his voice, and it seems like I can feel it as well. Weird.
“Um, yeah?”
“Is everything all right? You did not answer my question, and you seem to be upset about something.”
“I’m sorry. I was thinking about the club. I’m fine.” And for some reason I am fine . . . now.
What’s wrong with me? Talk about mood swings.
“Hmm. I asked if you would like to drive the Audi into town to take care of the business you mentioned the other day.” His quiet tone is laced with amusement. I can almost feel it.
“Oh. Yeah, yes, thank you. That would be great.”
The Audi. Cool.
“I had Alfonso park it out front for you. The keys are in it.” His voice is warmer now, and I definitely feel some of that warmth in my blood.
“Thank you . . . Hey, Nicolas? Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Is it possible that I can tell what you’re feeling? I mean, last night . . . I didn’t think I took . . . very much.” Embarrassment flushes through me. What we did last night is even more intimate than sex, and I’m not sure how to talk about it.
Then I feel his echo of amusement.
This is really weird.
“Yes, it is possible. That is why I stopped you. My blood is very . . . potent.” Again I feel the amusement as well as hear it in his voice.
“Oh. No matter how far apart we are?” I ask. This is going to take some getting used to.
“The effect does lessen with distance. Speaking over the phone seems to temporarily strengthen the connection, probably due to the sound of the voice. But it is not quite as strong as if we were in the same room or building.”
“Okay.” I frown. “So . . . can I tell what you’re thinking, too?”
’Cuz it sure seems like he knows what I’m thinking, especially after he’s taken my blood.
“No, only what I am feeling. However, since emotions are influenced by thought, it can seem the same sometimes.” He pauses, and I feel a flash of amusement. “For example . . .”
And I feel a rush of desire, and my blood sweetly flames in response.
Oh, shit.
“Oh, uh . . . thanks.” I squeak out sarcastically. “How am I supposed to get anything done if I’m feeling that?”
He laughs.
“Now you know what tortures you have been inflicting upon me for the last week,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice as well as feel it in my blood. His warmth washes over me again, and I recognize it as love.
As my own feelings of love add to his, it feels like I’m literally glowing from both.
“Ah. Yes, this is what I tried to explain. There really are no words for it.” His voice is husky, and my blood begins to heat up even further.
“But, unfortunately,” he continues, and the glowy feeling begins to fade. “This is not a good time to indulge ourselves. We both have things to do today.”
“Okay. Then, I guess I’ll talk to you later?” I can feel him withdrawing, like he’s leaving the room.
“Yes. Please call if you need anything.”
“I will. And thank you for the use of the Audi.” I focus on my feelings of gratitude and love.
He takes in a breath and holds it a moment.
“You are welcome.” And I feel his answering warmth and passion flow through me, and then he hangs up.
And leaves me with a small echo of his feelings, sitting snugly in my core.
Wow. This is amazing.
I put on my socks and boots and walk over to the dressing table to brush out my hair. Again something seems different when I look in the mirror, and I don’t think it’s the fine silver scars that trace their way down my jaw. I can’t quite put a finger on it.
Oh well.
I rub on some heavy sunscreen and decide to add foundation since I look a little paler than usual. Didn’t think that was possible.
As I’m applying the makeup, the sound of footsteps drifts up from the hallway below, then proceeds to head up the stairs. The step is human and light.
Marie.
Tensing, I listen as she reaches the top and walks in the direction of my room.
I go completely still in response to the tremor that runs up my spine. She pushes open the door that is ajar and walks in carrying my folded clothes.
Her scent, the one I’ve been savoring in her borrowed clothing, swirls into the room and wraps itself around me.
And I can taste and hear the song of her blood.
The beast and the hunger roar to life, my vision turns pink, and I stop breathing. She freezes when she sees me, and I clench my jaw as a look of fear crosses her face. The hunter snaps to attention and waits to spring.
We are suddenly locked in the classic poses of predator and prey, and we both know it.
The cell phone rings, shattering the deathly quiet, yet neither of us moves.
I continue to hold my breath and try to shove the beast back down. It responds a little easier than I would’ve expected, and its scream is quickly muted to an impatient growl.
“Hello, Marie,” I say hoarsely.
She glances at the still ringing cell phone, then back at me.
“Good morning, mademoiselle.” Her voice is thin and nervous. “How are you feeling?”
Brave girl. Smart. Make me think and behave civilized so I won’t leap across this room.
“I’m much better. Thank you very much for your . . . gift when I was so ill,” I say as gently as possible under the circumstances. I try not to think about what her “gift” was.
She relaxes slightly, and the hunter in me does so as well. That’s good. If she were to run, there’s only one response the hunter would have.
“You are welcome, mademoiselle. I am glad I was able to help. You have always been very kind to me.” Again sh
e knows exactly what to say. I’m able to leash both the beast and the hunter a little more tightly.
The phone is still ringing and I glance at it.
“Would you like for me to answer it, mademoiselle?”
Good idea. It would reassure Nicolas to hear your voice.
“Yes, Marie. Please do.”
I watch as she slowly and carefully walks to the small table in front of the window where I left the cell phone. She sets down my clothes and picks up the phone.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Marie?” I hear Nicolas’s worried voice on the other end and can feel his concern.
“Yes, sir,” she says, sounding nearly normal. His relief washes through me.
“Is something wrong? Where’s Sunny?” he asks quietly, radiating calm through both voice and blood, which I can now feel soothing my whole system.
Thank you, Nicolas.
“She is right here, sir. Would you like to speak with her?” She looks at me, trying to hide the fear still showing in her blue eyes.
“Yes, please.” He coughs. “Marie . . . you are all right?”
“Yes, sir.” Her eyes are big as she starts to walk forward and hand me the phone.
I tense again.
“Just set it on the table, Marie,” I tell her, and she stops and sets it down. “Thank you. You may go.”
She nods, then bravely turns her back on me and leaves, shutting the door behind her.
Sure wish she would lock it right now.
Taking a big breath, I feel the hunger surge again in reaction to her scent still hanging in the air.
I walk over and pick up the phone.
“Hi,” I say in relief.
“Are you all right?” he asks quietly, and again I feel his calm run throughout my body.
“Yeah. I, uh . . . had a moment when she first walked into my room.” A really long moment.
But I don’t have to explain that. He knew exactly what had gone on.
Lying to him now is absolutely impossible. I frown as this sinks in.
