by Kari Gregg
She hesitated, so long the wait both charmed and maddened him. “You’re killing me, chérie. By inches.”
“Get out of my head,” she mumbled.
Lucien’s body clenched when her tongue darted out to taste him. Her head whipped back at the heat, the power in it.
Deeply embedded in her mind, he shared her stunned surprise and the fierce longing that followed. “I’ve fed from Garrick these past hours. He’s much older than I, his elder blood incredibly rich,” he said, answering her before her mouth grew distracted with unnecessary speech. “You feel a lesser intensity taking it from my veins rather than his, but if you prefer his neck to mine…”
He chuckled when her lips settled against the wound, her mouth drawing gently. He hugged her close. “There’s time yet, plenty of time.”
Garrick opened the SUV door, the driver’s seat creaking under his weight. His glance darted to Kate in the backseat. “Dawn is approaching. Cover her.” He started the vehicle and shoved it into gear while Lucien tented the blanket atop them. “We’ll reach Pridemore by noon.”
Kate fed.
* * *
Muzzy-headed, muscles aching, she stirred against Luc on the bed. He’d draped his arm around her sometime during the daylight hours, anchoring her body to his. After hours that felt like eons on the road and the days at Garrick’s isolated property since, she knew Luc’s scent as well as her own. She knew his taste, the quick slash of his smile, the warm tenor of his voice…
He yawned, rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “Good evening, bébé.” He skated a sleepy kiss across the crown of her head.
She gulped, heart slamming against the wall of her chest as though it meant to flee her body.
She had to get away from him.
She had to.
But to what?
She wouldn’t survive on her own. The vampire who’d grabbed her during the drive to Louisiana had taught her that. Others far worse than Luc hunted her, and even if she avoided them, she wouldn’t escape Garrick. She had no illusions of that. He watched her, still as stone and just as yielding. She might ditch Luc if she surprised him again—maybe—but she’d never evade Garrick. Nor could she escape what she had become.
Vampire.
“Must we go over this again? So early? We are not mythological vampires. We are vampyr, a race cousin to humans who created those legends to…”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tuned his voice from her mind.
Vampire or vampyr, the harsh truth was no matter how her heart revolted, she hungered. She felt the desire for blood in the scream of her nerve endings. The cells of her body, dry and empty, cried out. She hungered. Oh, how she hungered, and it disgusted her. How could she do such a vile thing, even to survive?
Every time, she swore she’d be stronger. She’d resist. She meant it. Every time.
Then, the craving would start.
And she had learned.
Some appetites could not be conquered. Stubbornness couldn’t stand against an elemental instinct to survive. Sheer force of will crumbled in the face of it.
And hunger, too long denied, had teeth.
So far, the need was not so great that she couldn’t push it aside. A little longer every night. Kate knew from bitter experience that the demands of her body couldn’t be ignored forever, but pride demanded some measure of control. She wanted to live. Enough to…
She shuddered.
Enough to do even that.
But survival didn’t have to cost her dignity. Her humanity? Yes. Vampires weren’t exactly human, though, so she supposed that was okay. But staying alive wouldn’t destroy her self-respect.
As long as she didn’t let herself think about it.
Any of it.
If she did, she might go insane.
There was no way vampires could be real. The fact that she’d become one didn’t alter her assessment of the situation one bit. If anything, she just dug her heels in deeper.
This was the twenty-first century, not the twelfth. Sure, people pretended to be vampires. A whole subculture had developed around the mythology. Psychic vampires claimed to drain life force from their victims. Kids filed their teeth to give the appearance of fangs, dressed in Goth black, and hung out together in creepy dance clubs. Kate watched the Discovery Channel. She wasn’t completely ignorant.
But no one thought vampires genuinely existed.
Not the creature-of-the-night, bloodsucking variety, anyway.
Least of all Kate, and she numbered among them.
Bite a person?
Suck out their blood like some Grade B horror flick?
Uh-uh.
Nope.
She got nauseated when she had a paper cut.
Whenever she tried to imagine biting someone’s neck, she flinched.
Feeding from Luc was gut-wrenching enough, and she hadn’t needed to bite him yet. So far, he’d bowed to her queasiness and made the wound for her. Thank God. She wasn’t ready to face biting, doubted she ever would be. And it wasn’t Luc, personally. She couldn’t imagine feeding from anybody else either.
She shivered, remembering their driver during the cross-country journey.
Garrick.
No. Not him.
Especially not him.
So, whether she believed in vampires or not, she couldn’t run from Luc.
As appalling as the situation was, she couldn’t leave him.
She needed Luc for food.
And what of the rest?
Kate had no idea what it meant to be a vampire. Luc could be charming when it suited him. He spoke often of how powerful she would become and the power she already wielded, whatever that meant. When pressed for details, he was as unforthcoming and silent as the stony Garrick, but these things were important. She’d decided to live, damn it. She needed to know how.
What were the rules?
Crosses wouldn’t hurt her. Luc had proven that by asking Garrick to show her the gold crucifix he never removed from his neck.
Her jaw had dropped at the miniature Jesus hanging, beaten and dying, then at the grim hulk of a vampire. “You’re Catholic?” Shock had streaked through her like a lightning bolt. “You can’t be Catholic. You’re a vampire.”
Luc had laughed. “He was infected before the Reformation. Of course he’s Catholic. A devout Catholic.”
Garrick had nodded. “Most elders are.”
“But…but…”
Devout Catholic vampires.
A bubble of hysterical laughter had worked up her throat. Horrified, she’s slapped a hand over her mouth to smother it.
Luc had frowned at her. “You won’t remember Malachi, but we were raiding together when I found you. Mal was a priest before he was bitten. He ministers to us: Mass, marriage, baptism, confession… He’ll shepherd you too, if you like.”
Kate frowned. “I’m Baptist.”
“Saints preserve us, a Protestant.” Garrick’s mouth had twitched suspiciously. “You’ll convert.”
She snorted. Whitcombs had been Baptists for four generations, and Baptist she would stay. They could make her a bloodsucking vampire. They could change that, and she could live with it. She could try. But they would not dictate her faith.
That was only one rule of her new existence, though.
What of the others?
What about garlic?
Could she eat it?
Could she eat normal food at all?
And what about the sun?
Both Luc and Garrick were determined to keep her out of direct sunlight, but it didn’t seem to bother them. Garrick’s skin glowed with the sun-kissed bronze of a killer tan. The sun obviously didn’t hurt him.
Why the paranoia for her?
Luc had cackled gleefully at some of the superstitions. No coffins, he’d promised. “Entering a house you haven’t been invited into isn’t polite,” Luc had said, then grinned, “but I’m frequently rude.” Kate had seen her own reflection in the bathroom mirror, so that wasn’t
true either.
Kate’s waking hours had become an endless monotony of unanswered questions, necessary questions, questions Luc claimed he’d answer when she was ready.
So she resisted the urge to run.
She needed those answers.
Even when she felt the wispy slide of satin sheets against her bare skin, she didn’t so much as flinch. He was dressed, at least, and in the brief though seemingly endless hours David had imprisoned her, Kate had learned the prudence of assessing a situation before acting impetuously. Impulses, uncurbed, could hurt.
She needed to know more, and she was determined to focus on that, not on the overwhelming urge to flee, shrieking, as fast as her legs could carry her.
Considering she’d never awoken in a man’s bed before, Kate thought she was managing pretty well.
“Non? Never?” Luc chuckled. “Garrick will be pleased.”
She froze at his amused drawl, her instinctive dread almost overriding whatever sense of self-preservation David might’ve beaten into her. She bit her lip until she drew blood and controlled the urge to run, though it was a near thing. Thank God for bravado. Given a choice between a bluff and a cringe? She’d brazen it out every time. “Yeah, well, if you think that makes me a virgin, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“Garrick’s too lusty for a shivering virgin, and I’ve no patience for soothing one.” Luc flashed a wicked grin. “Don’t worry, bébé. You suit us both perfectly.”
Kate pushed down abrupt screaming fear.
Blustering through this? Not smart. But analyzing her circumstances wasn’t going to work either. Thinking wouldn’t save her life because thinking—- for instance, thinking that Luc had read her mind, which of course he couldn’t—thinking like that only encouraged her to run.
So she wouldn’t think. Not about Garrick. Not about the stranger she’d slept with—
“My blood runs in you, ma chérie. We are strangers no more.”
She gasped.
Oh God.
He could read her mind.
Her eyes narrowed.
No, he damn well couldn’t. That was impossible, and it would stay impossible, thank you very much. Everybody knew stuff like that just didn’t happen. It wasn’t real—
She winced because, hey, vampires weren’t real either, right?
The reality she’d known and the one Kate had experienced over the past days waged war inside her until she couldn’t stand the jarring, discordant clamor inside her head anymore. “You can’t read my mind. Nobody can read minds. I’ve asked you repeatedly to stop. So stop it. Stop it right now.”
He hugged her. “We are linked by my blood. As your guardian, living inside your mind is natural to me, as well as necessary for your care and protection. I can no more stop than I can stop breathing.”
Her mind kept spinning, overwhelmed with ideas and fears she couldn’t deal with. She just wanted to be normal again.
He snorted. “Normal is overrated. And irrelevant. You are no longer human, chère. You are vampyr. Strong. Powerful. Immortal by human standards. Even weakened by the transition, you are greater than Garrick and I combined. You are the most powerful of all vampyr—an unmated female.”
Blah, blah, blah.
Pretty talk.
Empty words.
Kate sighed.
“Relax. You are safe now—free to explore your new nature.”
Free.
Lord, how she wished she was free. She’d walk out the door and right back to her apartment on Pennsylvania Avenue. To the generic cubicle she shared at the office, to her cantankerous Mazda. She even missed her Visa bill. “I wish I could call home to let my mom know I’m okay. She must be frantic.”
“We’ve discussed this.” He frowned. “It’s not healthy—or wise.”
“I don’t see where it’d hurt.” She scowled at him.
“Your mother is a remarkable woman,” a deep, rumbling voice called from the shadows of the doorway.
She froze.
Garrick.
She hadn’t seen him much since Luc had carried her from the garage into these rooms several nights ago. A part of her had hoped to never see him again, had hoped he’d left while she’d slept, fed, and slept some more. But another more sensible part of her must have known. Over the past nights, both she and Luc had moved around the suite of rooms, he supporting her as she’d walked on unsteady legs to rebuild her strength.
But she’s avoided that door, the very door in which Garrick lingered. The door to outside.
The door to freedom?
No.
Kate might’ve become a vampire, but it hadn’t made her stupid. That door didn’t lead to freedom. It led to all the scary things and what she didn’t want to face.
Like him.
“She’s organized volunteers to walk David’s estate in a grid and asked for more people to finish the job on Larry King tonight.” He stepped into the room. “To help bring you home.”
Her fingers dug into Luc’s stomach.
Garrick’s shadowy bulk advanced on them.
“Shh, bébé. I am here.”
“Garrick,” Luc said in soft warning.
“The search has been impeded by the discovery of the other bodies. David liked to play with his food.” He made tsking sounds in the back of his throat. “But still, she hopes. You can see it in her eyes. She’s accepted your death. Her grief is…obvious. But her most desperate wish is to find your body and evidence that you did not suffer.”
Kate blinked, her heart seizing in her chest.
Dear God, her mother.
He was talking about her mother.
As bad as this had been for her, it was probably killing her mom. With her brother in Milwaukee and her father long gone, Kate was all Mom had left. She’d be devastated.
“I don’t believe she’ll rest until she has safely planted you in the ground, but you are not dead, so she will not rest. She’ll continue fruitlessly searching until she dies.” He shrugged. “Remarkable, remarkable human.”
Wetness gathered in her eyes as his words sliced deep. Because she knew her mother would. Search. Until her last dying breath.
“It’s all right.”
“You’re scaring her,” Luc growled.
“No.” He sat on the bed and traced a light finger down her shoulder.
She pushed into Luc’s embrace at the unwelcome heat that sparked in her belly at the caress, tried to slow the sudden thunder of her heartbeat.
Oh God.
Not good.
Not good at all.
“I didn’t frighten Kate. I hurt her. Is that not so, love?”
She buried her nose in the crook of Luc’s neck to hide from the implacable blankness of Garrick’s gaze, but there was no hiding the betraying quiver that raced though her body.
Luc’s arms tightened around her. “I won’t warn you again.”
Ignoring Luc’s threatening snarl, Garrick stroked a lazy hand down her arm to her hip. The contrast of his cutting words and the silky seduction of his touch scared her. Aroused her. Damn it all to hell. She stifled a whimper but couldn’t stop the shivering, didn’t even try.
His lips curved to a smile. “Mourning her human life is normal, but returning to it? Permitting these fantasies is dangerous, Luc.”
“Don’t be an ass.” Fury roughened Luc’s voice to a tight rumble. “Master, human, or rogue, none of them followed us. She’s safe here. We’ve time for Kate to grow accustomed—”
“Only as little as my patience allows.”
His hand tightened on Kate’s hip, fingers digging deep into her flesh. So much Kate feared the other vampyr might tear her from Luc’s grasp.
Fear?
That quickening of her pulse couldn’t be anticipation.
Surely not.
Certainly not.
To hell with the wicked tingle working through her traitorous body. Forget the hollow ache balling the pit of her stomach. Garrick absolutely was not turni
ng her on. No way.
He was cold. Pitiless.
And seriously scary.
He was enormous. Kate had heard people were shorter historically, that men and women grew taller as the centuries passed. Luc, who skated only a couple inches above her five and half feet, gave that vaguely recalled factoid credence, but Garrick blew the theory out of the water because he was a mountain. Huge. At a guess, he towered several inches above six feet, but nobody would ever mistake him for a basketball player. Nope. He was solid muscle, not sculpted like a weightlifter so she knew the mouthwatering physique hadn’t come from a gym, though his shoulders were as impressive.
Not that she’d looked.
Much.
But holy crap, the man was built like a tank. Who could blame her for checking him out? With eye candy like him hovering in the background, she’d have to be dead not to look, and as Luc constantly assured her, vampire or vampyr, she was very much alive.
Alive and drooling over Satan incarnate.
Her hormones had apparently recovered from the whole turning-into-vampire thing, but her common sense? Uh-uh. Not a lick. Every time he got anywhere near her, a flash of heat streaked down her spine, and no amount of arguing with herself dented the constant arousal that was becoming her new best friend.
Not cool.
She was supposed to be scared—No! Kate genuinely was scared of him.
She was.
The scar that bisected his left cheek and eyebrow disturbed her. Luc had told her that she needn’t fear scarring from her time with David, that vampires didn’t scar, and she’d seen twisty ropes of her mending skin smooth to threads with her own eyes. Soon, the marks would be gone. Her appendix scar was fading too, and she’d had it since she was twelve.
Yet Garrick’s scar remained, a jagged white slash against his bronzed skin.
Kate’s mother had drilled manners into her as a child, but she never would’ve found the courage to ask how Garrick had acquired the scar regardless of her mother’s stubborn standards of proper behavior. Whatever had caused it, whatever had gotten the best of Garrick, Kate decided she was best ignorant of.
