Julian waited.
“She’s scared. It is like that night in the woods all over again. Her heart is tired and sluggish. But the sound of it is echoing inside my head, and I can’t get a fix on her.” He rubbed his open palm down over his face and a mask of horror emerged. “She’s in trouble.”
“Connor, go and find her. You know that you can.” Julian’s voice rang with conviction. He tried, for a second, to put himself in Connor’s place, and the pain of it scorched his brain. If it was Leizle who was missing, I wouldn’t give up.
Certainty stiffening Connor’s spine, he said, “I’ll pick up her scent at the eco-shelter and track her down.” Julian watched his eyes glaze with ice as he shut down his emotions and embraced vampire detachment. It had served them both well for decades, and it would focus his mind now. There will be time enough for emotion when he finds her. Damn it. I don’t trust this Annabelle. I hope I haven’t waited too long. “Connor. You need to begin with Annabelle.” At Connor’s sharp glance, he added, “Talk to her first.”
Connor nodded tersely, his silent accord more eloquent than words. As he whisked around and opened the door, he froze as a trail bike engine screamed in the distance. “Who the hell is that?”
They waited those interminable minutes for the bike to finally skid to a halt outside, scattering a Claymor array of gravel over the stone walls of the house. Both vampires urgently scanned the streets for unwanted attention.
“What is she doing?” barked Connor.
Julian had no need to ask who. The taste of cinnamon burnt his nasal lining and he huffed out the smell in frustration. Leizle, here to torture me. He was taking so much rap-sleep lately that he felt like an addict. He had never seen her naked, but if his imaginings were correct, then she was glorious. His vision of her small compact frame had lithe coltish legs, and the high breasts of a girl waiting to become a woman. A virgin. Another reason to stay away.
And there she was. “Rebekah’s been abducted,” she gasped. Her chilled cheeks glowed like coals in a brazier. The rain had plastered her denim pants to her thighs, and her teeth clattered as the cold began to bite.
“I know, Leizle, Greg already found me,” frowned Connor.
Her shoulders sagged in relief. “He’s not back yet. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait. I thought Julian would know where you’d be.”
“Do you know who took her?” said Connor bluntly.
“No, but Thomas won’t talk, but I think he knows something.” Her frown etched hard lines into her forehead. “I asked him about Annabelle. He went red and ran away.” Her face crumpled as fierce concentration became anguish. “You don’t think she’s on the farm?” Her own experience made that the worse scenario she could come up with.
Connor arranged a reassuring expression on his stiff face. “No Leizle, I don’t think she’s on the farm.”
As Leizle’s fragrant sigh of relief tortured him, Julian thought, Rebekah is somewhere far worse. Annabelle’s miserable existence, her half-eaten state as a vampire’s pet, would be nothing compared to what she would suffer at Connor’s hands if Rebekah got hurt. Julian almost felt sorry for her, but then he glanced at Leizle’s white face, pinched with concern, and could not.
For Julian’s ears alone, Connor said, “I’ll begin with Annabelle.” His cold face set with rage, and before Julian drew breath, he was gone in a blur of anger-charged agitation.
I would not want to be in Annabelle’s shoes. Leizle’s alluring scent filled Julian’s sinuses, her body heat and the rain percolated to accentuate it, and he acknowledged his own fate. I can’t avoid her any longer.
He turned to face the bedraggled figure. Her wet hair had darkened to caramel, a brushstroke of dark rose accented her cheekbones and her green eyes gleamed like moonlit algae, almost florescent in the ambient light. Suddenly Julian found his own shoes were not that comfortable.
A few minutes later, a towel dried Leizle, wearing a ridiculously long sweatshirt of Julian’s, was sitting on his couch as they waited for vampire dawn. Her wet jeans hanging on the door had no hope of drying. Vampires had no need of heating, and a tumble dryer would be ridiculous when wet clothes went unnoticed.
She put a brave face on it, but Julian felt every shiver as it rippled through her.
He stood in front of the fireplace with his hand resting on the mantelpiece, wishing the logs in the fire were not mil-dewed and damp. “I guess resurrecting the fire is my next task,” muttered Julian.
His pose suggested a gentleman at ease, but human mannerisms had deserted him. He became as still as an alabaster statue.
Her warm-blooded beauty deserves the heady heights of red-hot passion, not the ice-cold touch of a man who can’t even find the words to tell her how he aches to be with her. Her chattering teeth vibrated through his head like a chainsaw, and Julian sighed at the grim reminder.
He could feel her gaze on his skin, and his peripheral vision tantalized him with the delicate beauty of her face. He couldn’t help but notice how the borrowed clothes hugged her frame, and he smiled wryly. She looks better in my sweatshirt than I ever could. He averted his gaze when glimpses of Leizle’s slender naked thighs, which the sweatshirt could not entirely conceal, tormented him.
Steeling himself for closer contact, Julian strode across the room and opened a cupboard door. Pushing tins of food aside, he took out a bottle of water – another concession to his newly acquired association with humans. His lips compressed in a determined smile as he approached her. Leizle’s eyes were still glued to where he had stood only nano-seconds before, and he was reminded, yet again, of human frailty. They have no idea how slow they are.
Julian rubbed his hands together until friction made his stone palms glow, and then he wrapped his hands around the bottle and warmed the water. Leizle started, and Julian guessed she had just registered that he had moved. He lowered himself carefully onto the couch beside her, unable to resist the impulse to extend his arm along the back of the seat and make contact with her shoulders. He gladly absorbed her jolt of surprise when he pressed the warm bottle of water into her hands.
He raised his brows. “Better?”
“Sorry,” Leizle muttered, as she hugged the water bottle to her chest.
“For what? For being cold? Or stupid?” His voice was so low she could barely hear it.
“Both, I guess.”
“Don’t be.” His fingers moved over the copper tips of her hair as he turned to look down into her face. He tried not to focus on how the soft sweatshirt material molded to her breasts. Her legs tucked up beneath her, bared her knees, and his eyes were drawn to the dark shadow where the sweatshirt ended. He swallowed hard as Leizle’s breathing faltered. If he ran his hand up beneath the soft fabric, he knew her body would welcome him. The scent of her skin, and the siren call of the damp heat between her thighs, almost overwhelmed him, and he gripped his knee, hard. Luckily, I don’t bruise.
“I have a council meeting tonight, so, you’ll be here alone for a while. I would stay, but my absence would cause comment. After all, we don’t get sick, unless we neglect revival sleep or get into a fight. And the council knows that neither of those would apply to me,” he said, when at last he dared to speak.
Leizle looked up at him. “No, of course not. It’s all a matter of control.”
“Control you should be grateful for,” he murmured, clenching a harder grip on his knee. The urge to tumble her over and push up inside the sweatshirt was compelling.
“Maybe.” She met his green gaze with her own flash of emerald. “Maybe not.”
Julian stared at her and said, “I’m not Connor.” His lip curled. “It will take more than a pretty face to turn me into a fool.” It took every grain of willpower to pull the performance off. Her heart had been racing since she entered the house. The chambers of it cantered with the nervous tension of the motorcycle ride, but when she looked at him, it had hitched up to a gallop. The pull he felt echoed inside her, too, and she could not protect herself fr
om him. So, I’ll do it for her.
Liar, a little voice whispered. You’re running scared. Even as the harsh words left his lips, each one dropping like a stone, he thought, it’s not Connor who is the fool. True, I have seen him suffer around Rebekah, but I’ve also never seen him happier.
He searched her eyes and watched the glow of hope cool to green ice. Her confused desperation played out across her expressive face, and he felt sure he could hear the questions tumbling over inside her head – ‘Had she misread every situation? She had thought he was fighting an attraction, but was she wrong?’
The denial nudged at his clamped lips but he turned his face away.
“No, I’m the fool,” she mouthed silently, but Julian heard every word as a shout.
He had hurt her again, but as much as his cold chest ached with regret, he told himself it was for the best. His two-hundred-years of stone cold existence left him terrified that he could never make her feel loved. And I want that for her.
“I have to go,” he said.
Leizle shivered when his abrupt movement gusted a breeze over her bare skin and her next sight of Julian was of him standing at the door, ready to leave.
He had already changed into formal clothes and was buttoning his coat. “Please, keep quiet,” he said as he pulled gloves onto stiff fingers. He had not worn gloves at night for decades, but it gave him something to do. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Certainly before vampire dawn, and I’ll take you home then.” He stared until she nodded her understanding, and then she found herself alone.
Chapter 8
Rebekah awoke in darkness. She opened her eyes and it made no difference. The blackness was almost a solid. There was a moment when she thought, ‘maybe I’m dead’, and then the pain kicked in.
Just as she accepted that the dull ache in her neck was not imagined, a cold clasp on her wrist came into sharp focus and instantly, she panicked, until she realized it was a metal cuff. Not vampire fingers. Her body felt sluggish. Even as terror honed her awareness, her heart rate slept. Stirring her leaden limbs required too much effort, and the pain in her head peaked when she rocked it on the thin mattress. Where am I? What happened? A rank residue glued her tongue to the roof of her parched mouth, and the smell invading her nostrils triggered a sense of dread in her brain.
She chased a memory in and out of dark corners, catching glimpses of keen eyes, floppy dark hair, and finally, her mind released the terrifying images it had locked inside. Clearly, her subconscious decided she was ready to fully experience immobilizing horror.
Rebekah remembered entering the dining cavern. Seeing Annabelle hunched over at a table, she had an irresistible urge to reverse silently out again. Would I have? She would never know, because Annabelle saw her, and the sheer relief which flooded her pale features, with the added plea of an outstretched hand, put paid to Rebekah’s retreat.
Annabelle and her labored breathing filled Rebekah’s mind. She was hyperventilating, and needed air. There was something else, a slicing look and swiftly averted gaze which had made Rebekah’s hackles rise. But she chose to blame herself. What had Harry always said? We all have prejudices, but we mustn’t allow them to get in the way of doing the right thing. Rebekah knew that where Annabelle was concerned, jealousy distorted her judgement. No, not jealousy, just plain old fashioned hatred.
Alarmed by Annabelle’s frantic gaze, Rebekah shoved her misgiving aside and came to her aid. Annabelle gripped Rebekah’s shirt sleeve and clawed at her neck. The sharp gasps tearing at the girl’s throat were Rebekah’s undoing.
“It’s okay. Oscar will know what to do, just hang on to me.” Rebekah pulled Annabelle to her feet, put her arm around her, and tried to urge her forward. But she doubled over, too distressed to move.
“I... need... air.” The words were a coarse whisper. “Please.”
And then Rebekah did the unforgivable. She broke the golden rule; never go outside without telling the others. The emergency exit tunnel into the woods was right there. This is an emergency, right? “It’s okay, I know a way out. Just hold on.”
Annabelle braced her hands on her knees, the rippling curtain of blond hair obscuring her face as her head hung down.
The cover on the tunnel mouth worked on a pivot, like a seesaw. Rebekah heaved down on the lever which eased the trapdoor up, and wedging a metal rod into a slot in the frame held it open.
“Okay. C’mon, I’ve got you.” Bearing most of Annabelle’s weight, Rebekah started up the gentle slope, relieved when the gray gloom of the night sky came into view. The grass fringed opening of the tunnel looked like an open mouth with vicious teeth. This is no time for an over-active imagination.
As they got closer to the exit, a breeze wafted her hair and chilled her damp skin. Annabelle’s fingers were ice cold and her breath rattled in her chest. Rebekah hoped they would make it in time. Their boots slipped on the thick mulch packed on the ground at the tunnel entrance, and Rebekah remembered the makeshift barrier of branches which partially obscured their path. Great for camouflage, not so good for a quick escape.
“Nearly there,” Rebekah whispered, concern etched into her face.
She released Annabelle, who slid down onto the ground. Rebekah hauled aside the gnarled branches and stepped out of the tunnel, giving Annabelle the room she needed to roll onto her hands and knees and crawl out into the moonlight. Lifting her chin, Annabelle gasped.
Hoping she had done enough, Rebekah, too, gulped in the fresh cold air, even though it chilled her brain and stung her throat.
As Rebekah darted forward to help Annabelle to her feet, she gasped as a band of cold steel snapped around her chest. Annabelle’s head jerked up; moonlight bleached her face and fear reflected in her ocean blue eyes as she stared past Rebekah.
The firm grip arched Rebekah back, and her shoulder blades grated over a hard body. Panic jolted through her when cold fingers framed her neck and their unrelenting pressure forced her chin up.
Lifting her foot, she stamped hard. She grated her boot down the iron rod of his shin, and his cold breath when he laughed transformed the sweat on her brow into frost. She closed her eyes. Her breath stayed locked inside her chest, and swallowing became impossible as he pressed her head back into his solid shoulder.
“Open your eyes, Rebekah,” he purred, his tone caressing her name.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to look. The bony fingers tightened, pressing either side of her jaw until the tendons screamed, and the pain shot her eyes fully open.
“Better,” he said, turning her face to his. “Will he miss you, do you think? Doctor Connor? Will he fight for you?” The vampire looked down into her eyes, smiling as his words carved despair into her pinched features.
Her heart clenched as she recognized the face. The riot of black hair casting his features in shadow could not disguise the flash of victory in the mire of his hazel glare.
Sebastian cackled as her body jerked against him and her hands clawed at his arm, her fingernails skidding over the hard shell of his skin.
“No knife with you today, Rebekah? Such a shame.”
Tears of anger stung. She kicked backwards and agony shot up her spine as his knee dug into the back of her thigh. She tried to scream, but she had no air left beneath the constricting band of pressure across her body.
A keening whimper filled her ears as his fingers dug in deeper, pinching a nerve in her jaw and forcing her mouth open. She watched him through the array of sparks exploding inside her head as the bow of his lips slackened, and her mouth filled with saliva, his saliva.
She gagged in disgust and, as her world went black, his manic grin faded away.
Lying in the darkness on the thin mattress, the movie reel stalled and burned the image of the vampire’s face into her brain. This was more terrifying than her dream, her premonition. I knew I would see him again. Revulsion rose inside her, and she tasted bile again. The venom he had fed her sat heavy on her heart. She relived the open mouthe
d, wet kiss, and her convulsed swallow as his venom filled her mouth. The last noise she remembered, before she blacked out, was Annabelle’s scrabbling.
What happened to Annabelle? Is she here too? Did the vampire kill her? Imagining death at this vampire’s hands filled her with ice cold fear. God. I hope not. “Please, let her be safe,” she whispered, and the dank air swallowed her words and tried to crawl into her mouth and fill her lungs.
Connor will be looking for me. She’ll have raised the alarm. I just have to hang on. Hope clung on until Rebekah thought of Annabelle... with Connor. “And maybe she didn’t,” she said.
Dread iced her skin in perspiration. He almost had me before. He tracked, hunted and captured her? But how? The taunting apparition of an Annabelle who walked through a nightmare, peeled away layers of clothing to reveal purple mottled skin and scabbed over wounds. Her curtain of blond hair swung aside to unveil glacier-blue eyes. The spite behind the glancing look Annabelle had cast her way, the one Rebekah had not been able to decipher when in the dining cavern, was revealed.
She recognised it for what it was. It had been mirrored in her own gaze. Jealousy. And she knew. I have been sacrificed.
Numbness hung on for a merciful moment, then defeat set in. Tears eased the gritty feeling in her eyes. How easy will Annabelle find it to comfort Connor, to persuade him to give up hope and let me rot? “Never,” she breathed as anger fought back, incinerating the image of Annabelle and offering her Connor’s perfect face to cling to. Her drugged heart tried to race and failed.
The snick of a metal latch resounded in the void, and a gray rectangular hole was punched in the curtain of black when a door opened. Is it early evening or early dawn? She was petrified. The doorway is empty. He’s in here already.
With her eyes stretched wide, she strained to hear as her body burrowed into the thin mattress. Suddenly, his black silhouette obscured her sight.
SURVIVAL Page 10
