by Anara Bella
Despite the unpleasantness of the incident, the look of horror on his face still brought a reluctant smile to her lips.
Whatever else had happened tonight, she knew the fang thing wasn’t the case this time. Everything had been going just fine. Better than fine. Hell, she’d still been trying to regroup from the mind-blowing orgasm Rafe had just given her when he’d taken one look at the mark on her hip, inexplicably jumped up, thrown on his clothes and shot out of her place like a bullet on a mission.
Was he phobic about beauty marks? Selena suppressed a semi-hysterical giggle. What a stupid thought. A big, hulking guy like Rafe wouldn’t be afraid of anything, let alone a stupid beauty mark.
Although, she had to admit, there was something very odd about hers. She wasn’t born with it. It had mysteriously shown up sometime after she’d been turned, making her feel as if it somehow branded her as a vampire.
She shook her head. Well, whatever had driven Rafe out of here in such a rush it sure as hell had spooked him, but good.
She sighed at the mystery that was man, and pulled out the bottle of scotch that resided in the back of her kitchen cupboard. Pouring herself a generous dollop, she downed it in one movement.
She closed her eyes with a blissful sigh as it burned its way down her throat to her churning stomach, reaching all the empty spots it found along the way and filling them with warmth and comfort.
Ahhh. That was much better.
Selena poured another swig and polished it off too. She was such a fool. She should never have shown up for their date in the first place. If she hadn’t been in hyper-sex mode, she would never have allowed tonight to happen. This proved that not trusting people was the only way to go. They always let you down. Always.
And Rafe had let her down in the worst way.
It would never happen again.
Looking around the now bleak-feeling apartment, she realized she wasn’t even close to being calmed down. The adrenalin still pumping through her system was a lethal combination of their sexual calisthenics and her subsequent anger, and she felt mega worked up and edgy. And although their earlier sextivities had taken the edge off her sexual cravings, they were still there raging below the surface.
Besides, it was still early for her. Barely midnight.
Her gaze skimmed past her computer and she thought of the fresh inspiration their sex-a-thon had given her. Now might be the perfect time to write the next sex scene in her Vampyre Chronicles.
Still tingling from head to toe from the multiple mind-blowing orgasms, and feeling ready for a fight all at the same time, she pictured the raunchy images her night with Rafe had given her and felt herself getting turned on all over again.
Hell, even when she was furious with him, he could still turn her on. How pathetic was that?
“Yep, fictional, wild vampire sex suits my mood perfectly.”
Violence, fighting and fucking. A perfect combination for writing her book. And the perfect place to focus her sexual energy and anger.
***
In a cold sweat and still fighting residual tremors from the adrenalin rush, Rafe raced out of town heading straight to his parents place.
It was the very last place he wanted to go. He hated asking for the old man’s help, and this would make twice in one day, but he had no idea what the hell to do. As much as he hated to admit it, his father was the one person who could help him make sense of this nightmare. Thank God he’d still be up at this hour—a by-product of his days as the slayer.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax the stranglehold he had on the steering wheel.
For the life of him, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Allowing himself to be so shaken up about it was stranger still. One thing about being the slayer, it generally took a lot to ruffle you. But no matter how much he wanted to tell himself he’d just imagined that mark, he knew he hadn’t.
He could still picture it vividly—the most unusual birthmark he’d ever seen. Its very uniqueness made it stand out like a rampaging vampire in a monastery. Most birthmarks were just vague shapes, a filled-in outline at best, but this one was almost like a tattoo in its delicate intricacy and fine detail. Despite that, you could never mistake it for a tattoo either. You could tell it was something else, something different. Maybe not even of this world.
He ran a hand through his hair. God, what was he going to do? Flexing his hands on the steering wheel, he relished the feel of something real and solid under his fingers when everything else in his life felt hazy. As if it was careening out of control.
The hell of it all was the mark wasn’t even supposed to exist. He’d only ever heard of it through the never-ending repetition of prophecy his father uttered, and it had always had a very unreal quality to it.
Even his father didn’t believe in it. Not really. In fact, it was an inside family joke. Although the prophecy was vague, potentially applying to any slayer in any time period, Rafe had been teased mercilessly about “his future vampire bride” since he could remember. He hadn’t minded though, because it wasn’t real. At least that’s what he’d always thought.
Tonight, when he’d seen that mark on Selena, everything he’d ever heard about it came rushing back. And what scared the absolute living shit out of him was that it hadn’t felt like he was looking at that damned mark for the first time. He’d recognized it, for God’s sake. How the hell was that even possible since no one he knew had ever seen it? There wasn’t even a picture or drawing of it anywhere.
Despite that, he’d known what he was looking at on a cellular level the moment his gaze lit upon it. As if his very soul recognized the significance of that mark. Knew what it represented for him, and the complete inevitability of it. As if its certainty had been written into the very fabric of his being. The very fabric of time.
A life-changing symbol of monumental significance.
It didn’t bear thinking about, but he knew his life would never be the same again. Was about to change in a very intrinsic way.
Forever and always.
Chapter Twelve
“You can’t be serious.”
Rafe watched as his father paced back and forth across the antique Persian carpet in the study. With avid concentration, his father worried his bottom lip so forcefully that Rafe would have been concerned his father was going to chew it clear off had he not been familiar with the mannerism. “Yeah, I’m serious. Believe me, I wish I wasn’t.” He continued under his breath. “No one wishes it more than I do.”
“Are you absolutely certain that’s what you saw? Maybe it was something else.”
Rafe fought down his impatience. “Yes, I’m sure. Very sure. Dead sure.”
His father stopped his pacing and gave him an uncharacteristically sympathetic pat on the shoulder. It wasn’t that his father was unkind, he was simply not a very demonstrative person. “We’ll get to the bottom of this don’t you worry about that.”
His mother stood in the corner looking flustered and upset but resolute, with her arms crossed tightly in front of her. He could almost feel her holding herself back from protectively hugging him senseless.
It was uncanny how his parents, each in their own way, could still make him feel like a six-year-old child. Normally that would have grated on him, but tonight he couldn’t help but appreciate all the love and support he could get.
“You’re going to tell me we have to try the Crystals for sure now, aren’t you?” He did not want to hear the answer, but knew a yes was inevitable.
“I’m sorry, son, but how can we avoid it? Not only are your vampire-sensing abilities not working, but now this? We have to find out what’s going on.” His father looked at his mother, who solemnly nodded her agreement. Then he looked Rafe directly in the eyes, making sure Rafe saw his concern, turned and headed toward the wall.
“I know.” What a fucking unbelievable day he was having. Make that, a fucking unbelievable week. First his vamp radar, now the mark. Yep, fucking unbelievable about
covered it.
He watched in resignation as his father pulled out the lavishly engraved silver box from its cleverly concealed secret compartment behind the paneling in the wall. It was festooned with all manner of religious icons, crosses and every other symbol vampires feared and loathed in order to keep said vampires at bay.
The hiding place and symbols were a necessary and vital precaution because this was a very special box. It held the Seer’s Crystals.
The Seer’s Crystals were essential in a couple of ways. When the visionary in the family needed more guidance or information than her visions were giving her, she could consult them for extra insight.
But that wasn’t their sole function. They also mystically drew vampires to them like doomed insects to a flame. They could feel its pull but weren’t conscious of it. They couldn’t help themselves because they were irresistibly drawn to its power. Sooner or later they all ended up in the vicinity of the slayer, wherever he happened to be. As long as the slayer kept the Crystals close, and safe.
Dire doom was predicted if a vampire ever got hold of the Crystals. Because of that, Hunter’s had always guarded them with their very lives. And now he was going to risk his very life by trying to use the Crystals himself.
It was amazing. He apparently couldn’t sense vampires right now, but like a tangible thing, Rafe could feel his parents’ anxiety and concern wafting over him in waves. They didn’t want to do this any more than he did, but they all knew it was a risk that had to be taken.
His father reverentially placed the exquisite antique box on the coffee table in front of him. Rafe fought down a feeling of panic born from a lifetime of hearing countless dire pronouncements of what would happen to him if he ever touched it.
“This doesn’t feel right. You’re certain this is the only way?”
Rafe’s father nodded solemnly. “Yes, son, I believe it is.”
What to do? He could still back out, but dare he? With all the strange things happening right now, the answer was obvious. “Then let’s get this over with.”
Strangely, there was no big ceremony to using the Crystals, although he’d often thought there should be. It was somehow anticlimactic to just pull out a box, sit down and use them, but that was the way it was.
He’d seen his sister use them a couple of times, and the most notable thing to him was that no one else in the room could see anything, but Larke swore she saw images she then had to interpret. He’d always been curious about what it was like, of course, but not enough to risk his life to find out. Now he’d get his chance. Even if it did end up killing him.
He reached out and lifted the box’s ornate lid, staring inside for several long minutes, still reluctant to touch the Crystals. Before him, the beautiful pale blue Crystals nestled benignly in their bed of deep royal blue velvet. At about two inches in diameter, each one rested perfectly in the palm of a person’s hand.
At first he only admired their crystalline beauty, but the more he gazed into them, the more they began to radiate an unearthly glow that drew him almost against his will. He leaned in. The closer he got to them, the more the glow grew and spread and the stronger the pull became until he couldn’t hold back from touching them for one more second. He had to hold them. Was compelled to do so.
When he took one in each hand their otherworldly light seemed to scorch his eyes, and his hands tingled and burned upon contact with the mystical objects.
Despite the off-putting sensation, he found he couldn’t put them down or look away. They drew him and pulled him into their power, almost making him feel faint, and yet somehow he knew they welcomed his touch. No malevolence emanated from them. Nothing to make him feel as if he shouldn’t be there and he finally relaxed.
It was okay. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it was going to be okay.
Suddenly, a plethora of images hurled themselves at his mind, physically making his head snap back. One after the other they came. Overwhelming. All-encompassing.
Relentless.
Blood and darkness. Fangs and a raven. Hatred. Love. Life. Death. Change and a child.
On and on it went, repeating and expanding. Completely filling every corner of his mind until there was no room for anything else.
None of it made any sense. Words and images barraged him without mercy until he didn’t think he’d be able to take anymore without going mad. And still it went on. His head began to ache and burn, feeling as if it would explode from the power inundating him. And then…nothing. Darkness.
Peace.
The Crystals stopped glowing and went dark.
It was over. Done.
And damned if he knew what the hell any of it meant.
Completely exhausted, he placed the Crystals back in their resting niche and sat back. All he could muster in the way of a reaction or movement was to rub his temples in an attempt to ward off the headache that threatened to pound its way clear through his numbed brain.
A tender touch soothed him. “What did you see?”
His mother’s gentle voice called him out of the semi-trancelike state he was in and he scrubbed his hands over his face in an effort to snap out of it. “I don’t know. Too much. Not enough.”
His father nodded. “Yes, that’s always how it is.”
Rafe had always respected what his sister did, but his respect increased a hundredfold now. “How does Larke make any sense of it all?”
His mother patted his forearm reassuringly. “Experience. When she first started using the Crystals it took a bit of time for her to figure out what the images meant. You’ll see. It’ll all come together for you too.”
Great. All that and he still wasn’t any further ahead. Rafe fought down his frustration. He wanted to know now, not at some vague unforeseen moment in the future.
His aggravation must have shown because his father’s tone took on an unaccustomed gentleness. “Go home and sleep on it. It’ll all become clear to you eventually, maybe even by morning. For now let’s just be grateful you’re all right.”
“But I have to know what that mark means and I need to know it now. Not tomorrow, not next week.”
His mother chuckled. “You were always an impatient child. Give it time. The mark and the woman will still be there tomorrow, and even next week.”
“Easy for you to say, Mother. You’re not the one facing a life-changing event.” He balled his hands into fists to keep from grabbing the Crystals and throwing them across the room. “All this and I still don’t know what the hell that event might be!”
Frustration overshadowed everything. He was frustrated with the oblique message, with the uncertainty he was facing, with his life in general.
Especially with his life. Rafe couldn’t begin to articulate how fed up he was of being chosen for things. As the firstborn, he’d had to be the responsible one. Had to become the slayer. Had to take on the family home. Had to carry on the family line.
And now this.
A lifetime of honor, duty and responsibility being pounded into him came to a head. Was there no end to what he had to do? All he wanted was to choose his own path in life for a change. Not answer to anyone. Not be obligated in any way. Just be himself. And live his own damn life.
Was that too much to ask?
Chapter Thirteen
Driving on autopilot, Rafe headed for home. His mind was anywhere but on the road. Flashes of the images the Crystals had thrown at him kept playing over and over and over again. He just couldn’t stop thinking about them. Or shut them out. No doubt his brain was trying to make sense of everything that had been hurled at it tonight, but he just wanted to stop thinking and rest.
No, that wasn’t quite true either. What he wanted was to rewind tonight back to the last orgasm, and never see the mark that symbolized the chaotic mess his life had suddenly become. How was that for denial?
Exhausted to the bone, and fighting a wicked headache, he couldn’t believe it had been less than twelve hours since he’d picked up Selena for their da
te. He’d started out the night with not much more on his mind than the desire to have hot sex with the woman of his dreams. He’d ended up finding the very last thing he ever thought he would. Certainly the very last thing he ever wanted to find.
That damnable mark.
He just couldn’t accept what that mark meant. He knew it should all make sense, it wasn’t all that complicated.
Could Selena really be a vampire? It didn’t seem possible. The logical part of him knew she had to be, nothing else made sense, but the mark wasn’t enough proof for something so serious. He needed more.
He needed more because everything in him rebelled against believing it was true. Selena was the first woman to catch his eye in years. Hell, if he was honest about it, to ever catch his eye in such an all-consuming way. She fascinated him and turned him on like no other woman had come close to doing.
It just wasn’t possible this particular woman was a vampire. He’d always hated vampires without question, and even more so after Larke’s husband was killed by one. There’s no way he’d be attracted to one. No way. The prophecy couldn’t be true, and it most especially couldn’t be about Selena or him. It had to be wrong. It just had to be.
He parked the car and turned off the engine. When he finally focused on his surroundings, he realized he’d ended up back at Selena’s place.
If someone had asked him, he’d have said it was the very last place he wanted to be right now, but his subconscious knew better. Even more than rest, he needed answers. And the very first thing he needed answered was the question of whether Selena was in fact a vampire. No matter how conflicted he felt about the outcome, he had to find out for sure.
Dragging his feet, he headed up the stairs. To anyone watching, he likely looked as if he was headed to the gallows, and in truth it felt as if he was. It might not have been his literal life at risk, but his heart sure was. With just one word, Selena could slice it to shreds and leave nothing but a bleeding shell.
Reaching her door, he stood there for several long moments, trying to decide if he wanted to do this right now. The answer was, probably not, but the reality was he couldn’t let it go. He had to deal with it head-on.
