Drawing Bloodlines (The Princeton Allegiant Series Book 1)

by Deborah Garland

  I often experience intense cravings for blood and control them. Something about Elizabeth drew me in the moment her gaze connected to mine. A pull. The dead cells within me sparked to life and danced beneath my skin. I even felt warm in her presence.

  Intense heat and feeling alive is something I miss since I became a beast.

  She gets into her car. My instinct, my duty as a doctor, wars with the other side of me to stop her. I don’t have much credibility at the moment however, since she saw me drink blood straight from a vial. So, I hide behind the dark-tinted windows of my car and tamp down the urge to follow her. Chase her down. Capture her and then do what exactly?

  The crumpled sheet in my hand—a copy of her contact information will lead me to her so there’s no reason to take any more risks. Yet, I put my Benz in drive, wait for a few more cars to leave the parking lot and head in the same direction she does. The idea of her being out of reach, out of my grasp terrifies me.

  The late afternoon hour spills too many cars on the road, and I’m unable to turn when she does. Damn it! I have no choice but to go home and plan my next move.

  I won’t completely relax until I’m behind my front door. Even the steps from my car to the house are painful. We tolerate the sun, even when it’s hidden on gray days like today, except when too much venom pools beneath our skin. A clever form of control. Should I be enraged enough to strike, the sun burns enough to slow me down.

  Upon turning, venom replaces human enzymes such as adrenaline, dopamine, and endorphins. Elizabeth stirred every emotion in me this afternoon, and my brain released quite a dose into my system.

  The night is a different story—nature didn’t think of everything. Except it allows me to be a voracious lover. Elizabeth enters my mind more thoroughly at that thought. It doesn’t help my situation that I find her extraordinarily beautiful. I’ve not had a human lover in a very long time.

  To distract myself, I turn on the wall-mounted big-screen television in my living room—furnished to complete the charade. I don’t quite get television. Which is odd since, with so many channels running twenty-four-seven, it’s as if no one else sleeps either.

  From my pocket, I remove the additional vials of blood I took from Elizabeth. The tubes are still warm in my hand. Since blood spoils without refrigeration, I store them right away, but I set these precious tubes aside, since this blood was drawn from Elizabeth.

  A few vials get me through an average week, the rest I give to Francisco, the commander of my allegiant.

  As a floating resident physician for two hospitals, I help medical practices when they need a skilled phlebotomist. I’m quite skilled at drawing blood. Based on the panel ordered by the nurse, I only needed to fill four. When Elizabeth’s pulse thundered beneath my fingers, I smelled her scent and was overcome with the need to feed. Right there in the goddamn lab. I would have finished the entire vial if she hadn’t seen me.

  Pondering what to do next, I step in my bedroom to remove my suit jacket, but keep the rest of my dress clothes on. I could receive a call from the hospitals at any time and need to move quickly. Even though I don’t sleep and I’ve not had a woman here, I put a king-size bed in the master suite and a twin bed in the guest room. For appearances.

  Between the hours I spend as a doctor and the biology class I teach at Princeton University, my house remains dark. Even when I’m home, I’m boring enough that neighbors keep their distance.

  I stroll anxiously through my kitchen and settle in my office, ready to face another empty evening. Along the wall, store-bought shelves hold all the books I ever owned. Except those when I was human. Shortly after being turned, I lost them all in a fire. As a vampire, my memory had sharpened so much I recalled every volume and replaced them all.

  This alcove is where I’m most comfortable. Everything else is a lie.

  When the night falls, it’s both easier and harder. Easier because the world goes away and I don’t have to pretend anymore except when I’m called for an emergency. Hospitals late at night are a great place to feed.

  The dark can be harder, however, because there’s nothing to do. Others like me, congregate and it takes away the sting of feeling so alone during the day. That often leads to trouble. Instead, I use the time to study, read, and do research.

  Tonight, however I must set aside my work to consider how to deal with Elizabeth before I report what happened to Francisco. If I report it.

  He doesn’t take “reports” lightly. Considers them disruptions. I saw how he deals with those who are sloppy. My kind learned the hard way killing off witnesses is more dangerous than wise. The creature who slips up is usually who ends up in trouble.

  My position in the Princeton Allegiant: a medical doctor with access to blood, hospitals, medications, and tools gives me favor with Francisco. A “report” from me would put him at odds with his nature. He needs me and the idea I would risk my position could make him punish me harshly.

  The paper in my hand—Elizabeth’s information—ignites me with a flicker of excitement. It’s crinkled from holding it so tightly earlier. The memory of that woman immediately fills my mouth with venom, this time from desire. Thoughts of finding her, tasting her, knowing her better have my feet moving toward my bedroom to get my jacket. The predator deep within me takes over.

  My phone rings and I stop. It’s one of the hospitals. I scoop up my keys and leave the house, to be a hero, not a villain.

  Chapter 2

  The crushing traffic from the doctor’s office delays me and Annie’s school bus waits in front of my house.

  Its lights flash, the sign is still extended, and a string of cars on both sides honk angrily. My daughter patiently sits on the front steps with her chin resting in her palms. I leap out of the car to make my presence known so the driver can leave. The way he bristles at me with a forced wave suggests he’s fed up with the fact that no matter how many times he asks me out, I keep saying no.

  I’m breathless by the time I reach Annie and worried what she’ll make of my disheveled appearance.

  “Sorry about that.” I lean down to kiss the top of her head and drink in the sweet smell of strawberries as I twist a lock of her baby-fine blonde hair into my fingers. “I got held up at my appointment.”

  She tilts her head up at me. “The driver is mean to me.”

  “What do you mean?” I never considered what those refusals meant to Annie.

  My daughter stands and picks up her knapsack while I fumble for my key. “I say good morning to him every day but he just makes strange faces at me.”

  Damn. I’ll have to talk to the school and possibly start driving her myself. “Do you want pizza for dinner?” I ask to smooth over my lateness and change the subject.

  “Yay!”

  Bingo.

  When the pizza arrives, Annie and I eat and do our schoolwork at the dining room table. My stomach is still unsettled, and I barely manage one slice. I really want to open a bottle of wine, but it’s only Tuesday. At every free moment, I think about Alexander and what I saw.

  His eyes, black, but with a hint of dark green, watch me from the corner of my mind. Those eyes locked on me while drawing my blood and after when he drank blood straight from a vial.

  It thrills and scares me at the same time. With a clear head from my blood supply replenished and food in my stomach, I consider the situation with a touch more rationalization. It’s a crazy fantasy that they possibly exist. If so, wouldn’t they keep to the shadows and feed discreetly?

  Feed. Is that what Alexander was doing? Feeding? With my blood? What if he wants more? Did I taste good? Me? When I eat a piece of chocolate, endorphins sail through my brain. Was it the same sizzle of excitement for Alexander when he drank my blood? The idea of being so intimate with him makes my heart race.

  Stop! It’s all too crazy. There
are people who believe they’re a . . . I can’t even think the word. Anyone who shaves their teeth into fangs is either insane or begging for attention.

  Alexander claimed my attention, easily. Any man that gorgeous is confident in his effect on women. He certainly didn’t seem insane. I hope my medical professionals did a background check on anyone who actually touches me.

  Boy did he touch me. With fingers that were cold.

  I dismiss this. They were probably cold because he washes them all day. His pale complexion? Most likely because summer is over and anyone still sporting a tan is trying too hard.

  “Mommy!” my seven-year-old shouts. “I was calling your name for five minutes.”

  “Sorry.” I shake my head. “What?”

  “I don’t want any more pizza,” she says after she ate three slices.

  “Thank goodness for that.” I close up the half empty box. “Go get your pajamas on and brush your teeth. I’ll clean up.” And sneak a glass of wine.

  Gathering her things, she asks, “Can I watch two episodes tonight?” Annie discovered Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix and the poor kid is hooked like it’s crack.

  We settle on the living room sofa with our indulgences. The handsome doctors, McDreamy and McSteamy, and for me that glass of wine. My head leans back and I think of a name for Alexander.

  By the end of the second episode, all I have is McPerfect—boring but accurate. McYummy works, but it’s silly. Alexander isn’t yummy. He’s smoldering, but if my crazy fantastical assumptions about him are true, he’s dangerous. Whatever he may be, I’m too old for a bad-boy and I have to think about Annie.

  With the events of the day on my mind, I breeze through my house—a two-story colonial I bought when I moved back to Princeton. I check every window latch and bolt the front door. For the first time since I moved in, I switch on the porch and outside deck lights. Just for tonight. I’m not sure I’ll afford the electric bill if I keep the place lit up like Times Square every night.

  Feeling more secure, I meet Annie upstairs. She doesn’t take much coaxing to go to bed. Not with her books and new iPad to play with behind a closed door.

  I kiss her on the forehead and she says goodnight while her eyes remain glued to her book—the first in the new Amulet series. With her glasses sliding down her nose and rosebud flannel pajamas, she looks more like an eighty-year-old grandma than a second-grader.

  That suits me just fine for the time being.

  After I sneak another pour of the wine, I settle into my bedroom. I’d like to binge-watch some shows as well, but Annie inspires me to read. I grab the fourth book in the Outlander series and fall away into a world of clans, kilts, and a tall, handsome Scot.

  ~ ~ ~

  I wait for the lights to go out in Elizabeth’s house while I observe her from my car.

  I finished at the hospital and drove straight here. I don’t mind if this takes all night. Elizabeth’s body is easy to distinguish, her height, her curves, the languid and sensual way she moves. Watching her tempts me to do too many stupid things to a human with warm blood under soft skin.

  The flow of her evening, dinner, television, and a goodnight kiss for the child, is pathetically, yet gloriously normal. I push away thoughts of what it is like to be part of her day, including taking Elizabeth to bed. My groin stirs as I imagine that.

  I missed out on many nights filled with passion when I was human even though I had a wife who gave me two sons.

  My older brother came down with consumption. After months of suffering, he ultimately passed. The tradition at the time, made it my responsibility to marry his betrothed. After a month with Katherine, I realized Robert got the better end of the deal.

  In my new life, I want to pick my own mate. Find a human woman and make her like me. It’s illegal to turn a human at the moment. Population control. We’re tracked like cattle to maintain our prime directive: stay hidden. To break that law means I would face a group of vampires who terrify even Francisco.

  Although I have plenty of work to do back home, sitting in my car and watching Elizabeth proves oddly satisfying and soothing. The lights are now out on the second floor and while she passed through the lower floor moments ago, movement in what I suspect is her bedroom probably means she’s ready to go to bed. It’s hard to remember what sleep feels like. To close my eyes and drift off. Lose myself to another world.

  I shake that thought away and get out of my car. Her street is quiet. Most houses are also dark and peaceful. Hers backs up to a nature preserve. A good thing considering I plan to break into her house.

  I have to see her. Be near her. Once I’m tuned into her again, I’ll know if I’m in danger and if she plans to talk. If she does, her removal will be swift and I’ll never see her again. Except maybe in chains, hauled off to New York.

  My throat trembles and tightens. The more I think of what would happen to her, what my kind would do to her, anger-filled venom rushes through my system.

  I learned it’s best to withhold using the powers I inherited from my sire, Loren, who says his own abilities increased and developed in the course of his one thousand years on this planet. In that time, he became more and more feared. More and more alone since the only ones like him are me and Julianna, the other human he turned.

  No one knows her whereabouts. Including Loren.

  With no one to confide in, I’m alone as Loren is. It’s easy for me not to use the powers he gave me. Since I go about as if they don’t exist in me, they’re not quite developed.

  Thoughts of lonely dangerous vampires affect me in a way I don’t care for, so I move to get my blood flowing. I need it to mix with the venom racing through my system to soothe me.

  As I get closer to Elizabeth’s block, I spot a fence that leads to the preserve. I hop over it with ease. The brush in the preserve is thick and since most of the houses lined up are dark, very little light shines down on me. I don’t need anything to guide me. With Elizabeth’s blood in my system, I will find her easily.

  Gazing at her dwelling, I choose the best point of entry and avoid breaking something noticeable. She’ll become more alert and frightened, I imagine. I don’t want to do that.

  A patch of dried out bushes against the house blocks a set of casement windows. It’s possible to wedge one open. That thought stills me and a spike of venom challenges my current equilibrium. If I figure out a way into her house someone else could. Someone or something more dangerous than me. Despite myths and fiction, serial killers, gangs, and the mentally tormented with access to firearms are much more of a risk to humans than someone like me.

  The home on the left doesn’t have any windows facing Elizabeth’s house, so I start there. The first window I try gives way due to a crack in the foundation and the whole casing almost falls into the basement. I catch it, but damn it, I’ll have to do something about this.

  I crawl in, balancing the window. Using my strength, I rest on one hand and place the window back into the frame. Luckily, no one occupies the basement, so I lower myself onto the hard cement floor. An unfinished basement suggests she probably doesn’t spend a lot of time down here. I may be able to come back and repair the window and she would never notice.

  My only shot of reaching the main floor is a bare-bones wooden staircase that probably creaks like hell. If the closed door at the top is locked from the other side, I can crumple the metal doorknob easily enough. But that too would be noticed. I reach up and dig my fingernails into the wooden studs above the staircase to pull myself toward the door and avoid the rickety steps.

  A turn of the handle sends a wave of relief through me. No lock, but it’s rusty and releases a faint squeak. I dash quickly to the other side of the door and close it again. Thankfully, I smell no one on this floor too. Without meaning to, I move softly with the lithe foot of a predator through the main floor of
the house.

  Passing a desk in the dark, my sharp eyes catch a familiar logo. Princeton University. I stop and rustle through the papers. Ph.D. Application. A typed essay peeks out from the bottom of the pile. I would like to someday teach college classes . . .

  I’ll unpack that information later.

  The carpeted stairs to the second floor are mercifully quiet and I already sense Elizabeth’s heartbeat. The slow rhythm means she’s fallen asleep.

  The first bedroom by the stairs contains the sleeping child. The smell is female.

  Past that bedroom is a bathroom then another room which even in the dark I see storage boxes and a single bed. The lack of scent suggests no one has slept here in a while. At the end of the hall is Elizabeth’s bedroom. At the open door, I steady myself. This is more exhilarating than I thought it would be.

  I’m lured inside by the scent that enthralled me earlier today to get back on my mission. If Elizabeth experienced some form of shock from this afternoon, I will smell it on her and know if she feels threatened in any way.

  God, that was close! I cannot shake how warm she felt when I lifted her limp body from the cold linoleum tiles in the lab. Gazing down at her, knowing what I could have done to her forced me to kick the door closed.

  The fresh wound from the needle tormented me. The pooled coagulates that healed her smelled almost as good as the blood. I removed the tape and used a drop of my own blood to close the tiny hole to make the damn delicious smell go away.

  She laid in my arms with a sweet smile on her face. At that moment, I felt nothing but need. A burning hunger that went beyond my thirst for blood or any lust I ever felt. I wanted her in every way. Possess her. Claim her. Ravish her.