Blood Inheritance (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 1)

by Cas Martin

  'So why hasn't it stopped?'

  'I don't know. Perhaps not enough saliva?'

  'You should probably make it stop then.'

  'That's easier said than done.'

  'No it's not.' Elizabeth waved her free hand again, as though she didn't have a care in the world. 'Just do what you have to do.'

  'You don't know what you're asking me to do.'

  'Just do it.'

  'I feel weaker now than I did before,' Monica gulped, and they both knew she was not talking physical strength. Her fangs had extended again and she made no attempt to hide them from Elizabeth. She was tempted and it was only fair that Elizabeth should know.

  'I still trust you just as much.'

  'I don't trust me.'

  'You didn't before and you were fine. Unless you want me to slowly bleed to death?'

  'No, it's just…'

  'Please,' whispered Elizabeth. She reached up and placed her hand at the back of Monica's neck, pulling down as firmly as she could against the resistance. The bed dipped as Monica braced herself so that a gap remained between their bodies, needing the physical distance to keep the deeper hunger she was feeling at bay.

  Monica paused briefly, forcing herself to remember that she did not need to feed. She did not need to sink her teeth into the flesh to close the wound beneath. This was purely for a practical purpose, but the fangs she could normally force to retract at any time refused to go back. It made what she had to do more of a hindrance, and she knew that they would be grazing against Elizabeth's skin no matter what, torturing them both. Elizabeth was clearly still on an endorphin high and Monica wasn't happy being the only responsible adult in the room.

  She placed her lips on Elizabeth's neck and slid her tongue out of the gap between her teeth, sliding it over the puncture marks that she had made. The taste of blood filled her senses and she let out a moan, simultaneously feeling a groan vibrate its way from Elizabeth's throat. Monica could feel her willpower fading as she licked over the wound, unable to fool herself that she was being purely practical. She hated herself for using Elizabeth, manipulating her for her own pleasure, convincing the other woman it was for life or death when it was just for sheer enjoyment. All her deepest fears and anxieties about who and what she was bubbled to the surface in that instant, until she realised that Elizabeth's hand was still firm on the back of her neck, holding her in place as her lips moved.

  The physical distance that Monica had struggled to carefully maintain was broken as she could not resist a gentle sucking motion against the wound, and Elizabeth responded to the fresh flood of hormones, arching up into her. Elizabeth's other hand had somehow made its way onto the small of her back, as if she was holding on for dear life.

  Despite Elizabeth holding her firm, she forced herself away, checking that the blood had stopped completely now. She didn't know whether or not to be relieved or disappointed when she saw that it had, and as her eyes met Elizabeth's she saw the same confusion of emotions brewing there.

  'The bleeding's stopped,' Monica whispered. 'You're okay.'

  'I'm not sure I am.'

  'You will be.'

  'It doesn't feel like I thought it would feel.'

  'I know.'

  'I never thought I'd be able to understand why people allowed it to happen to them.'

  'You did this to save my life. Remember that.'

  'I know.'

  'And it worked. I don't need to feed from you again.'

  'But you want to.' A statement, not an accusation.

  'I'm not going to pretend I don't.'

  'I'm glad.'

  'You are?'

  'I don't know why.'

  'You've already lost a lot of blood. If I fed from you any more it would take longer for you to heal.'

  'I'm not saying it's the sensible thing to do.'

  'It really isn't.'

  'But you want to,' said Elizabeth again.

  'Yes, I want to.' Monica averted her eyes as she said it, aware that they were both caught up in the bloodlust, in the feeding. It was intense, and it had been too long since it had felt this natural.

  'Then do it.'

  'What?' Monica resisted the urge to get up and bolt from the room.

  'I want it too. Just this once. I want to know.'

  'You already know.'

  'I did that to save you. This time it would be just because.'

  'You only think you want it. It's the blood loss and hormones making you feel this way.'

  'I suppose. But I'm never going to offer again. Don't pretend that you don't want to now.' Elizabeth spoke with the quiet intensity that Monica had come to realise meant she was serious. 'I'm giving you permission to be who you really are.'

  The weakness must have shown in her eyes, because Elizabeth closed her own; bracing herself for what was to come. She dropped her arms to the side and turned her head.

  Monica wanted to be strong.

  She wanted to be a better person.

  With a groan of anticipation, she finally gave into her weakness. She moved to gain better access to Elizabeth's neck, then lowered her mouth, her fangs pressing against the artery, slightly lower down than before. Any resolutions melted away as she shut down the warning voice in her head completely.

  She could feel Elizabeth's sharp intake of breath beneath her as she placed her fangs against the rapidly pulsing artery, feeling the adrenalin flowing under the skin in a way it hadn't done last time. The anticipation Elizabeth was feeling tugged at something deeper, more primal within her, and she allowed herself to fully surrender to it for what felt like the first time in her life.

  She allowed the full weight of her body to rest on Elizabeth's as she bit down, her fangs sliding effortlessly into the skin beneath. Elizabeth gasped and pushed back into her and then the blood was there, still beating strong on the tip of her tongue. She allowed it to flow freely for a moment, the natural force of it sliding into her mouth before she clamped her lips down to create a vacuum and began to tug gently against the skin.

  She could feel Elizabeth's hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in deeper as she threw her head back. Monica was surprised by how little struggle there was. She had expected that once her teeth had pierced the flesh, common sense and self-preservation would return to Elizabeth.

  Monica could feel the warmth from Elizabeth's veins filling her own again, and felt the reluctance when the pulse feeding her began to slow. She could taste the adrenalin and knew they were getting close to the point of no return. No matter how reluctant she was to give up the sweet metallic taste filling her senses, she knew it had to stop.

  Monica gently extracted her teeth, eliciting yet another moan from Elizabeth, and continued to work the blood using only her lips and tongue. She could feel Elizabeth beneath her responding to each lick and suck, holding onto her as if she was hanging on for life itself. Which, in some ways she was. She slid her hand under the back of Elizabeth's head and pulled her firmly against her mouth for one final taste, the strength of which seemed to ricochet through them both. The strength of the hands on her back and neck was weaker now, and as she pulled away, Elizabeth gave a sleepy moan of disappointment but did not attempt to stop her.

  As she scrambled off the bed, Monica realised she was shaking. A combination of too much blood, being sated for the first time in such a long time, and the harsh reality of what she had done. She reached down and realised that Elizabeth's skin was cold to the touch. She double checked to make sure that this wound had stopped bleeding on its own and was relieved to discover it had. She didn't think she had the strength to place her mouth against that blood any more.

  It would break her in a way that Monica had never thought she could be broken, and that filled her with fear.

  What she needed to do now was let Elizabeth sleep, to let her body heal itself. The two of them had been through so much physical damage lately. Monica felt the full force of guilt hit her. Elizabeth had already been weakened when she offered herself, and Mon
ica had allowed herself feed from her not once, but twice. The second time seemed unforgivable now that the moment had passed. Unforgivable, but she knew that if she could go back in time, she would do the same thing all over again. She reached down and pulled up the covers, making sure Elizabeth was securely tucked in. The woman needed to be warm to help the recovery process begin.

  Monica left the room and headed for the shower. She glanced down at the pile of bloody and torn clothes, noting that she was going to have to invest in a completely new wardrobe if this little war went on for much longer. It was getting past a joke, and most of her clothes were designer.

  She stripped out of her underwear and looked in the full length bathroom mirror with a gasp, backing away against the wall.

  The bruises on her skin were quickly fading. The edges seemed to shrink in before her eyes. The olive skin beneath her eyes was unblemished, despite the punches those savages had enjoyed inflicting. Feeding always improved the ability to heal, but this was almost impossible.

  She had known there was something different about Elizabeth's blood, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Nothing had ever been as intense as tonight. Now she could see it was more than just taste.

  Monica climbed into the shower and turned the power on full, letting the sting of the spray hit her skin like pins and needles. All her senses were heightened and she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this alive. It was as if when she closed her eyes she was transported back there, almost able to taste the blood on her tongue again. She shuddered and tried to block out the thought. She had to stop remembering what it was like. She sank to her knees and began to weep. In the two weeks since they met they had approached each other as equals. Monica had taken advantage of that trust.

  If what they had just done was allowed to happen again then balance of power would change. It might be a subtle thing at first, but Monica had been around for long enough to know how these things worked. It would weaken their alliance.

  It would destroy their friendship.

  No blood was worth that, no matter how sweet it tasted. No matter how powerful it was.

  She finished her shower and wrapped herself in a safe fluffy robe, uncertain what to do next. As she made her way back into the master bedroom, she saw that Elizabeth had rolled over onto her side, wrapping the covers around her in a tight ball. She looked pale and so young. That flash of innocence she'd seen once before was obvious when she slept.

  Monica felt her resolve strengthen. Never again.

  45

  Elizabeth cracked one eye open, then promptly closed it again. The light was inexplicably bright and painful. She felt awful. This was the worst hangover of her life. How much had she drunk last night? She tried to lift her head, and in that moment it all came flooding back.

  'Oh god,' she groaned out loud, and pulled the covers up over her face. The smell of Monica's perfume on the sheets filled her nostrils and she the embarrassment made her blush. She had virtually begged to be bitten for heaven's sake. She was mortified.

  Dealing with something like this had certainly never been covered in her father's notes. She had never wanted to be one of those people who enjoyed being bitten. She had always been convinced they were sad and pathetic creatures, with virtually no will of their own. Is that what had happened to her last night? It didn't feel that way, but she couldn't be sure. How was she going to look Monica in the eye this morning? After all, she had virtually forced the other woman's teeth into her neck.

  Elizabeth shuddered at the memory, and then felt twice as embarrassed again. But there was no denying that it was good. It had been really good. Had Monica found it just as good? She shook the thought from her head and ventured out from under the covers. She was going to have to face her at some point, so she may as well get it over and done with.

  The smell of perfume was replaced by the smell of coffee. That was enough temptation to get Elizabeth out of bed completely. She was surprised by how shaky her legs were as she threw them over the side of the bed. The weakness she felt went right through to her core. Why had she willingly put herself so close to death, when she had spent the past few days quite frantically attempting to stay alive? It was stupid.

  Knowing she wouldn't find answers to any questions until she'd had something to eat, she did her best to try and stand up. She avoided looking in the mirror as she made her way across the room, buttoning up her shirt. She wasn't sure if she was ready yet to see the damage inflicted on her neck. The memory of that second bite flooded back to her again and her hand went to her throat involuntarily.

  Time to face the music.

  She made her way to the kitchen where Monica was sitting at the breakfast bar, still in her robe. Elizabeth had no idea what the time was.

  'Um, hey,' began Elizabeth, shoving her hands awkwardly into the pockets of her jeans. Monica turned around slowly, as if she was equally unsure of things. For some reason that made Elizabeth feel marginally better.

  'Hey. How are you feeling? Coffee?'

  'Yes please.' Elizabeth conveniently avoided the question about how she was feeling and sat down the other side of the breakfast bar. There was an awkward silence while Monica poured them both a cup and sat back down.

  'I thought you might need something to drink when you woke up. You should really have some breakfast as well.'

  'Let's see how I stomach the coffee first.'

  'Feel hungover?'

  'Yes.'

  'Dehydrated. I'm sorry,' Monica looked away awkwardly.

  'Don't be. How does it look?' Elizabeth tilted her head then instantly regretted asking the question. She wasn't sure that asking Monica to look at her neck was very good etiquette. Or very sensible.

  'There's a mirror in the bedroom if you want to look?'

  'I'm not sure I do yet. It doesn't matter, I'll look later.'

  'It's probably not as bad as you think. Just a bit bruised. It'll probably take a few days to disappear. The, um, second bite isn't quite as noticeable.'

  'You were a bit more gentle the second time,' she suggested, cringing at the sound of her own voice. Any time the floor wanted to open up and swallow her whole would be fine by her.

  'Wow, could this be any more awkward?' Monica half-laughed, half-groaned.

  'It does feel a bit like the morning after a one night stand.'

  'I don't want this to change things between us.' Monica was overly emphatic and Elizabeth looked up in surprise.

  'What do you mean, change things between us? Why do you think it would?' Elizabeth felt the distrust rise through the embarrassment. Unsure if she had been exploited, she tried to show no emotion.

  'I fed from you. The first time, well, that one we can justify if we have to. The second time was something else, and there's no point pretending it wasn't. But it can't happen again.' Monica seemed to have been thinking a lot about this already.

  'I agree. I don't know really know why last night happened, but it's not happening again.'

  'It would put us both in a dangerous position.'

  'It would.'

  'Not to mention make the other a target for our enemies.'

  'Exactly.'

  'Exactly,' Monica repeated, although she seemed to be convincing herself more than Elizabeth.

  'So we're both agreed. We can put it behind us and move on.'

  'Yes. We have bigger things to worry about than agonising over this like teenagers.'

  'Okay. Can I just ask one thing before we end the conversation and put it behind us completely?'

  'Sure.'

  'How was it for you?'

  Monica rolled her eyes at the joke, but not before Elizabeth saw a flash of something in them that she couldn't quite understand.

  46

  As darkness descended, Monica drove Elizabeth to the oldest part of town. She still felt the thrum of her blood now flowing in her own. They covered most of the journey in silence, neither trusting themselves to say the right thing. Despite their agreemen
t to put the events of the previous evening behind them, it was easier said than done.

  Elverez had called Monica earlier that day and invited her to bring Elizabeth to one of his houses. It had been his for a long, long time, but virtually no one knew about it. Being a disabled vampire made Elverez vulnerable, and he had spent his life taking precautions. Preservation was a lesson Monica was rapidly learning for herself the hard way.

  If it had been anyone else, given the rather unusual circumstances of the past few weeks, Monica would have been reluctant to trust the invitation. Certainly not enough to head over to an unfamiliar house and take Elizabeth with her. It was little more than instinct that told her to trust him, and that was all they were running on these days.

  When they arrived, he ushered them inside, then spent a few moments looking Elizabeth over. He seemed to have no qualms about looking at her directly, to the point where she actually started to squirm. Monica tried to hide her amusement.

  'I apologise,' he said suddenly. 'Please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Elizabeth.'

  'Likewise,' she replied, politely but without feeling, as she sat down and made herself comfortable.

  'Ah, no, the pleasure is certainly mine more than it is yours. You have no idea who I am, other than a few things that Monica may have told you, yet I feel I already know you quite well.'

  'Really?' Elizabeth was surprised. Monica was too, but she knew better than to show it. Elverez was a wily character and she had no intention of inciting more fun and games.

  'I knew your father well. Very well. More so than many of my kind who claim to have known him. We shared many interests. He was more like a friend to me than an ally. Here,' he wheeled himself over to a large antique desk in the corner of the room and opened a drawer. He picked up something from inside and came back over to them, handing the photograph to Elizabeth. She stared at it intently, tears stinging her eyes.

  Monica stared at the picture. Professor Hastings stared back at them. It looked as though the photo had been taken in this very room. Elizabeth's father was standing behind Elverez's wheelchair, and both men were grinning for the camera.