Commander

by Kim Faulks

  It was the sound of thunder—the sound of rage.

  The sound of a man screaming…

  “Commander. It’s me, Doc Angel.”

  Fire tore along my arm. Tendrils lashed, and the sting raced all the way to my chest.

  My heart quivered, shuddered, and the thunder in my chest picked up pace.

  Shadows moved and the clatter of steel on steel echoed.

  “Someone hold him!”

  Strands of pale hair floated into view. The Vampire reared and slammed me against the stretcher. Stars collided behind my eyes as the fire lashed.

  Still that thunder raced, shuddering my body with the panicked beat.

  Boom…boom…boom…boom…

  Like I was running, bare feet punching the ground, leaving nothing but my breath behind.

  Pain flared as that sting grew talons, spearing out like fingers to close around my heart.

  “You’ve been bitten. Commander…Commander. Do you understand me?”

  Doc Angel’s brown eyes came into view and then faded. Still I was running…running…running. The burn in my chest pushed me harder.

  Boomboomboomboomboom…

  I could still hear them outside, fighting…and losing. Screams mingled with screams. The sounds rebounded, filling my head with terror.

  Doc’s eyes…wide, scared… “If the venom gets to your heart, you’re going to die. I can help. Do you hear me? I can help you.”

  That sting…that fire. Feet picked up pace…and my heart followed. Too fast…too fast…I was captured by that sound, by the tremble of muscle, squeezing…clenching… quivering…

  BOOMBOOMBOOM…

  Strands of her blood-stained hair stuck to the Doc’s face as she moved close. Her growl bordered on a scream. “You’ll die. Is that what you want? You’ll die, or you’ll become one of them.”

  My body shuddered, lungs burned. Feral eyes filled my memory. The sound of her hunger followed, and the sickening tearing of flesh…

  …then let me die…

  The words were fleeting, snatched away by a scream—a distant memory from a life I once knew. Daddy, don’t leave. Please Daddy…please don’t leave…I love you.

  The face of my daughter reared in my mind’s eye. Wide-eyed, filled with panic. She was a stranger now, just a stranger. She didn’t need me—didn’t want me. How could she?

  She didn’t even know me.

  My head slipped on the cold steel, and dropped to the side. Slick tears carved a warm path along the bridge of my nose.

  Still the thunder in my chest squeezed tighter. The heavy beat long gone.

  There was only a quiver now…

  The bright lights overhead faded, white blending into gray.

  Fight Daddy, please…Daddy…Daddy, please…don’t leave me.

  “I don’t have time to run tests,” distant words forced their way in.

  I wanted to stay there in the memory and the pain, wanted to stay with my daughter.

  For just a second…

  “This might react with something in your DNA. Jesus Christ. Are you hearing me?”

  Pins and needles raced. Thick fingers were slow and numb.

  “It’s all I’ve got.”

  The darkness was hungry…so very hungry.

  “It’s all we’ve got. Do you hear me, Commander, it’s this or death. Choose now…Choose now, Commander.”

  Movement blurred, and then sharpened. The light overhead seemed to flare,

  The glint of the needle pinned me. Hands held me down.

  Muscles trembled as I tried to rise. Blue eyes sparkled overhead. Lips curled, revealing the pointed tips of fangs.

  The feral need to survive reared, but it wasn’t to heal—it was to eat.

  I opened my mouth. Needles stabbed my jaw and filled my teeth.

  Need filled me with fire, and then left me cold.

  “She’s trying to help you, Commander,” Alpha’s face neared. His hard jaw bulged, fear filled his gaze. “Let her do what she needs to do.”

  I dropped my hands as the burn raced, searing my chest…inching closer to my heart.

  Her forehead shone with sweat as the Doc found my gaze. She lifted a bottle, and punctured the seal with the needle.

  Clear liquid filled the plunger. A bestial sound tore from my lips.

  My hand flailed in the air. Desperation reared as I reached, searching for a hold…for anything.

  A cold hand found mine. Fingers tightened as the Doc leaned close.

  I turned my head and was seized by her gaze.

  White bled into blue, like the crispest, cruel wave.

  I was caught on the crest as the Doctor lifted her hand high above my chest…

  And then struck.

  6

  Annabelle

  Warm fingers slipped between mine. I stared at the connection, where pale skin met callused flesh, and then lifted my gaze as the Doctor raised the needle.

  Clear liquid glistened, captured by the glare of the overhead lights. I was caught by the syringe, drawn by the movement, as Doc Angel gripped the plunger and then struck.

  Steel carved through flesh, driving all the way to the plastic hilt.

  The sudden gasp wrenched my gaze. Blue eyes sparkled, shining bright like the last second of a dying star.

  Veins bulged, carving a darkened line along his temple.

  His face flushed a reddened hue as a hiss tore from the gash in his neck.

  Blood burst to splatter my arm, and the sweet metallic scent filled me.

  My stomach tightened as hunger reared. A pinch at my gums and fangs lengthened, scraping the inside of tender flesh.

  Crimson glistened against his skin…tiny splatters on his cheek that gathered substance, merging together to carve a path of red.

  “Hold him,” the Doc growled.

  I edged closer and splayed my fingers against the warmth of his chest as the Doctor punched the plunger, and the black line raced.

  Boomboomboomboom…his heart shuddered with the strain, drawing my focus down.

  Not long now. Until the muscle clenched one last time.

  Not long until there was silence. No more pain…no more anything.

  His thick fingers tightened around mine.

  His grip would weaken. His hand would fall, and then I’d stride from this room, leaving nothing more than the fading memory of his existence behind.

  Just like all the others.

  Something clenched inside me. No, not like the others.

  His blood-splattered face seemed to sear into my mind. This one I’d remember. This one would haunt me. I glanced to our hands, fingers entwined.

  No one touched me.

  Not in comfort, not in care. Only in desperation. Only in fear.

  These hands weren’t the hands of a protector. These hands weren’t the hands of a slave.

  They were a warrior’s hands.

  A killer’s hands, and yet here they were, strangled between the heat of desperation, confined by need.

  “You can talk to him, you know. Comfort him…he’s either going to have a rough night, or it’ll be over with very soon.”

  I flinched at her words and wrenched my gaze high. I’d been lost, confined not within these walls, but within the heat of his body, and the desperation in his gaze.

  The Doctor moved away, and placed the syringe on the table. Her brow furrowed, jaw bulged. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. Her brown eyes softened at the sight of him lying there.

  There was a sadness, one I’d never seen before. The Doctor admired this mortal…liked him, even.

  I fought to find the words. “He tried to save her. Tried to save my Queen.”

  “Semper Fidelis. It means always faithful. That’s their motto,” she whispered and glanced to me. “That’s what they do…they’re Marines—the good ones like him, at least.”

  Boomboomboom…boom…boom…

  Marines…protectors, warriors—like me.

  No, not like me at all
.

  “I’m going to see to the others. Come and get me when…” she swallowed and stared at my hand on his chest. “When he doesn’t make it.”

  And then she was gone, leaving me standing there clutching a dying mortal’s hand.

  His body thrashed, feet jumped. His eyes widened with panic. Talk to him, she said. Tell him what? That he would die…that it was always meant to happen. Did it matter when? Did it matter how?

  Semper Fidelis…always faithful.

  “Why?” the word slipped free. “Why risk your life for one of us? I don’t understand.”

  His fingers slipped. The life dulled in his eyes.

  There was an emptiness inside me. One I’d never felt before. A hollow drum of cold pain and rejection, until now…a spark flared, like the strike of a match. Heat flared, warming that cold, dark place inside me.

  “Always faithful…you live like that, don’t you? Is that what it means to be mortal?” I leaned close, drawing in the scent of his blood and the taste of his fear. “Does it come with knowing you’ll die?”

  My fingers dented his clothing. I pressed harder, finding the pound of his heart. Energy raced, sparking under blood and bone to quiver against my fingers.

  The power moved, spreading out with cold tendrils to fill his chest. Always faithful…even if it meant death.

  “Did you know it would come to this? Was there some kind of knowledge my kind doesn’t have?”

  His eyes widened. The whites shone.

  “Does that make you brave, or weak?”

  There were no answers. Not to the questions in my head…not to that flare of my soul.

  A flicker that consumed the darkness, leaving me stranded in a world of mortal heat.

  Power speared outwards, through his belly…along his veins. My heart gave a tremor as his throat tightened, and torn flesh widened. Crimson spilled for a second, and then slowed.

  The crisp, copper human scent dulled, hidden under something else now…a redolence of other.

  The muted scent of undead loomed, tendrils wound around the scent of human life.

  He was changing…

  Blood glistened against pale flesh, running in a rivulet toward the steel.

  A drop glistened, shining bright against the harsh overhead lights.

  I reached out, catching the bead and slipped it between my lips.

  The heady wave of life consumed me with a rush. Life…so real and new…so honest and raw…so perfectly—mortal.

  Take what’s left…the lone thought surfaced, and with it came another, he’s dying anyway…look at him…he hasn’t an hour left.

  I licked my lips and stared as the flush of life dulled. This wasn’t plastic bags filled with anti-coagulants and week-old blood. My kind lived a half-life, surviving on human blood banks. We barely fed. Not like this, never fresh…never…I wrenched my gaze to his face—never honest and real.

  He tried to save her.

  Semper Fidelis.

  He tried to save my Queen…because I wasn’t there.

  My fingers shuddered as I gripped the stainless bed. The Commander’s eyes were clenched tight, brow furrowed like a cleaver’s mark. I lifted my hand, and, instead of reaching for the thickening trail of blood, I reached for the warmth of his cheek and felt the flare of mortality fade.

  My finger slipped against the slick of sweat and under the tang of salt and sin was something tepid, something cold…and growing colder by the second.

  My throat tightened. Terror welled in the emptiness of my chest.

  Was this what fear felt like?

  Touch him.

  That flame flared brighter, consuming more than the darkness—I lifted my gaze to the groove of his forehead and glanced toward the door. Screams and howls echoed from outside. Others in need. Others in pain…others dying.

  Talk to him.

  His body trembled. The quake raced. The heels of his boots thundered against the stainless bed. Bloodless lips were a slash on his face. His jaw clenched under the thick bristles of his beard.

  His hips rose from the bed, spine bowed from the strain. Dark veins flared, spearing along his cheek to reach for his forehead.

  Transition loomed…. transition or death.

  I lifted my gaze to the bottle on the counter. The one filled with hope.

  The good Doctor had come with her needles and bottles, and under the command of my Queen, I’d opened my mouth wide. Vampire venom filled every syringe, and for what? So the Doctor could kill and make a legion of Vampires on her own?

  “Don’t let me…” the harsh whisper tore free.

  The blue in his eyes was bleeding, leaving an empty pale hue behind. Black pupils as the dark veins reached across his face. “What?”

  His pale lips parted, spittle flew as his hand clenched around mine. “Become one of them.”

  A lash of fire cut deep, tearing open a savage need. One I’d never felt before…one I didn’t understand.

  “Please…”

  That fire burned and seared. I could almost smell the searing remnants of my putrid soul. Darkened veins pulsed harder, pressing against the tips of my fingers. Vampire venom raged, savaging mortal flesh, mortal life…I dropped my hand to the hilt at my side and wrenched the weapon free.

  The Commander opened his eyes, midnight pupils flared, drawing me into his darkness…into his fear.

  I’d killed for vengeance.

  Killed for survival.

  Killed because my Queen commanded.

  Steel glinted under the overhead lights as I pressed the blade to his throat. One jerk of a wrist and he’d be done. No more human, no more Lowest Kynd. No more of anything.

  This human hadn’t taken, he hadn’t hurt—hadn’t earned his death in the eyes of another.

  He saved. He protected. Semper Fidelis. Always faithful…

  But I could ease his pain.

  I flinched with the thought, and his flesh buckled under the blade. A darkened drop of blood ran free. His life was no longer vibrant. No longer brimming red with life…I looked into his vacant eyes. Soon he’d be cold…empty, yearning to feel the flicker of affection.

  Soon he’d feel nothing more than pain.

  The fire inside me ignited, burning hotter than for something he’d never had before. Kill him, end his suffering. Do this for him. Not to take. Not to hurt. To give him peace. To give him dignity…to give him something that hadn’t been given to me.

  The steel trembled, shuddering against soft skin.

  Do it…do it!

  A boom in my chest took flight. My heart thundered and squeezed, filling with something more than ancient blood. His pulse jumped under the steel, red blood mingled with the black.

  I yanked the blade from his throat. His pale skin brightened, and then dulled as though the drug was trying to work.

  I wrenched my gaze to the syringe, and then shoved my blade into its sheath. I couldn’t kill him, not out of hate, not out of honor…not out of anything I knew.

  And if I couldn’t end his suffering, then there was only one thing left to do.

  He had to survive.

  He had to live.

  And not as a Lowest Kynd…as a mortal—as close to a mortal as he could get.

  I spun, lunged, smacked my side into the stainless gurney that hit the cabinet. The syringe on the edge shuddered. The bottle rocked, tipping onto its side as I wrapped my fingers around the glass.

  Need roared, filling me with a different hunger, one that ignited my barren soul. “It’s going to be okay.”

  The Commander shuddered and shook. Black blood filled his veins, consuming what drug was left in his system.

  He needed more. He needed everything. I grasped the syringe and stabbed the seal, drawing the plunger back one black line at a time. “You’re going to survive.” The plunger hit the end before I dragged the needle free. “You have to. I cannot let you die.”

  My hands were shaking as I turned to this mortal. The outline of my hand was still embedded in hi
s khaki shirt. I swallowed hard and moved closer, reaching out to grasp his shirt. One button was missing…the others strained as I yanked. A ping echoed as two more tore free. I searched the fine splatter of hair on his chest and moved to the tight peak of his nipple.

  Heat moved deeper, spreading out from the confines of my ribs. The tiny red mark from the Doctor’s needle was barely visible. I pressed my fingers against the steel of his chest to feel the thunder and the roar.

  One strike, and the needle burrowed deep. I shoved the end of the plunger, driving the fluid into his heart, and yanked the steel free. His eyes widened, blue mingled with the white. He was in there, fighting.

  “You can do it,” I whispered and found his hand once more. “Fight for me…Please, fight for me.”

  “What are you doing?”

  The sharp sting of her voice stole the fire. I wrenched my gaze to the doorway as Eva and the Guardian Lucas stepped inside and closed the door.

  She glanced at the mortal, and then found his hand clasped in mine. “Annabelle?”

  My hand went to the gurney and yanked. The wheels squealed against the tiled floor as the bed moved, ramming the edge into my side. I needed him closer…closer to me. A feral growl resounded in my throat and spilled free.

  In this moment, he was my blood.

  He was my survival.

  He was my touch…my connection…he was the one thing I ached for—and the one thing I’d never had.

  “Easy,” Lucas whispered and lifted his hand. “No one’s going to hurt him. We’re here to help.”

  But it wasn’t his words I needed to hear. My Queen stared at this mortal’s hand in mine and then lifted her gaze. And in that moment, I saw the true reflection of my love, and my loyalty.

  Ivory eyes glinted with indifference.

  I loved her…like a sister…like a servant.

  And she saw me as nothing more than a weapon, nothing more than cold steel. One she could wield at a whisper, and one she could discard just as fast.

  Lucas turned to find her gaze. His brow furrowed, confusion shone against the darkness of his eyes. “Is everything okay here?”

  “Let him go, Annabelle, and step away.”

  My Queen took a step closer. But that fire inside me wouldn’t die. I opened my hand, splayed my fingers. Plastic slid against my palm before I closed a fist around the syringe—turning the needle into a weapon.