by Tamsin Baker
Her mouth is half parted, the tip of her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. So luscious. She’s calling out to be kissed, even if she won’t admit that thought consciously. I push a loose tendril of hair off her cheek and lean in, testing her reaction. A quick shake of her head provides one message, while the heat between her legs intensifies. I know, because her mound is nicely sandwiched against the base of my cock and that heat sends an altogether different message.
“Mixed communication, little banshee.” I murmur the words against her mouth. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her panting breath warms my lips. I secure her more tightly, cradling her butt cheeks in my palms and using my strength to hold her in place. Pressure centers fully in my groin and my balls tighten in anticipation of imminent coupling. “Which is it, Aleah? Do I stay, or do I leave?”
“I don’t understand this. Are you…hypnotizing me, or something?”
“Hypnotizing?” My laugh is brief, but intense. “You’ve been watching too much television. I can influence humans, up to a point. But no vampire can influence a fae. Yes, the lure of a vampire to a hybrid is almost as strong as the reverse, but it’s a purely physical lure with no mind-fuck involved. I seriously doubt I could influence you to do anything you don’t wish to do, half-fae or not. This decision is all on you. If you want me to leave, then say so now.”
“No, I…” She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them and meets my gaze squarely. Surprisingly, the confusion remains. “I don’t know what I want. I hate vampires. I’ve always hated them.”
Hmm. Nothing ambiguous about that. Why does she hate my kind so relentlessly?
“But I can’t seem to say no to wanting you to stay.”
“Of course, you can’t.” My grin is smug. “And why would you want to? I am known for my prowess in the bedroom. And right this minute…Aleah, I need to taste—”
“No blood!”
Her cry is sharp, almost fury-driven, and my incisors unsheathe instantly in response as a hiss leaves my lips.
“You certainly don’t make it easy, do you?” I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing time to regain a modicum of calm. “If I cannot sample your delectable blood, then I will have your lips.” I make good on my promise before she changes her mind yet again, crushing her mouth beneath mine. There is more ferocity in the action than I plan, but her unintentional tease annoys me, especially when my own blood is already up and calling for plunder. When a tiny moan vibrates up from her throat, a bolt of desire tightens my loins further.
She tastes exactly as I imagined she would, all honey and flowers and innocence. Her sweetness soothes the darkness within me in a way that hasn’t happened in the whole of my life as a vampire. I want to devour her, and yet there’s something holding me in check. After a minute I soften the onslaught to cajole, rather than bully a response.
When she finally capitulates and begins kissing me back, it feels like a triumph far greater than merely winning someone over with persuasion. In that capitulation I’m reminded of what it’s like to be alive. What it’s like to have a heart that beats so fast and so powerfully that you wonder if it’s going to jump right out of your chest at the force of emotion running through you.
Emotion? What is she doing to me? Why am I drawn to her so strongly, when it’s obvious she can’t wait to get me out of her home and out of her life for good? Is this attraction merely the enticing promise of hybrid blood, or is it based on something more?
I don’t know anything about Aleah, beyond her species and her name, and she knows nothing about me. Yet this kiss runs like fire along my veins, in a potent rush that feels more real than the taking of blood ever did in the past.
When at last we break apart, she is panting loudly and her previously pale cheeks are flushed a delicate pink. I don’t need to breathe to survive, but in the aftermath of this kiss even I am drawing breath once again, albeit with a slight rasp that sounds almost rusty from misuse.
“That was…very intense.” My brain feels fuzzy and disconnected from reason. The warm pliancy of her mouth beneath mine is still all-consuming in my thoughts. I want to fuck her. I need to fuck her. It will be amazing, to seduce this beautiful woman whose scent and taste reminds me of life, and the joy of living. “Shall we go to your bedr—”
“No!”
“But—”
“I rescind my invitation. I changed my mind, Luc. You are no longer welcome in my home.”
What the hell? “I—” My legs begin to shuffle of their own accord toward the door. I scowl as I twist to stare back at her, even while moving away. “You can’t be serious. Why—”
“You’re a vampire.” Her lips are swollen from our kiss and she rubs at them with the back of her hand as if trying to wipe away the taste of me. “I won’t have you in my home a moment longer than absolutely necessary. I can’t.” Tears shimmer in her eyes, turning them almost emerald.
“But—”
“It would be a betrayal.”
“Of whom?” I reach out to the door and turn the handle, with no control over my own limbs until I’m standing outside on the top step of the porch. The gray of evening has intensified, and even though it’s not yet dead of night when I’m at full strength, there’s no sun left in the day to pose a threat any longer. “The only one I see you betraying here is yourself.”
She shakes her head, but without conviction.
“Why, Aleah? You knew what I was when you invited me in. I didn’t hurt you. And you want it as much as I do.”
She follows me to the doorway and stares out with big, haunted-looking eyes. To anyone human, she’d be a gray silhouette in the darkness, but I see through the shadows better than any other creature bar demons, and I read the angst and sorrow in her features.
“I’m sorry, Luc.”
“What are you afraid of?” The rejection is unfamiliar. Since being turned almost two hundred and fifty years ago, I’ve had my pick of lovers, men and women alike, and no one has ever said no to my advances. Not a single one. “It’s clear that you’re conflicted, but I thought you’d made up your mind.”
“I’m not afraid, and I’m not conflicted.” Again, her arms fold across her chest, but this time I see the gesture more as a mechanism of self-defense than anything to do with anger. “I want nothing to do with vampires. Nothing. And I especially don’t want one in my bed.”
Her cheeks are deeply stained with color once again. “Liar.” I breathe the word lightly, almost under my breath, but her slight start proves that she hears me. Of course, she does. The fae portion of her blood boosts her sensory ability more than that of a purely mortal woman.
“A vampire ruined my life once. I won’t let it happen again.”
Silence falls in the night air. A vampire ruined her life?
I debate for a few seconds whether to press for details, but the desperate conviction in her gaze convinces me it would be futile. After a moment I let it go, and nod once. “Our story is not done, little banshee. I will be back, and then? We will talk.”
Her answer is more silence, and then a slammed door, and then nothing, bar startled birdsong. I’m left standing in the dark on my own, as a light drizzle begins to fall. There’s a real chill in the air without the sun, but that suits me just fine. The bird chatter eventually quiets down and the night creatures begin to stir.
Night creatures like me. Night creatures like the two preternaturals who tag-teamed their assault, one crushing my arm in his jaws as I fought to retrieve the child he had taken to feed on, while the other circled, waiting for the right moment to attack.
My thoughts reluctantly turn back to business as I move away from Aleah’s cottage toward the forest.
There was something off about those two, even more than their clearly loco state. Perhaps I’m overreacting and it was simply the insane light behind their eyes, or the unexpected strength beyond even what one might expect from a rogue fueled by madness. I don’t understand what was driving them, but it is very
rare for any shifter to get the advantage over a vampire with as much experience as me. Even more rare, to find two insane rogues of opposing species actually working in tandem.
And there was something more. Something inherently wrong that I can’t quite pinpoint, beyond an instinctive gut feeling that they smelled…bad.
Evil.
I’ve seen too much in the past couple of centuries to frighten easily, but that sense of something malevolent and calculating is new, and off-the-charts worrying.
In the thirtyish years since the Accord Agreement was reached—an agreement that all signing parties, human and non-human alike, promised to abide by—investigative units were set up to ensure compliance. Units like the one I work for.
The rules of the Accord are clear. All are to obey the new laws and respect life wherever possible. Innocents are untouchable. On the matter of humans, everyone is in agreement. Adults are a last resort, and children are strictly off the menu.
In a world where preternaturals have finally emerged from the shadows, the new rules allow us to co-exist with each other and with humans, if not peacefully, at least with some semblance of order.
The only exception to the Accord is the celestials. Angels and demons. No one has ever been able to convince them to cooperate, but there are hunters and negotiators who specialize in that area, while the rest of us try to steer clear.
The witches, and fae, and various minor non-human species, all signed the Accord alongside humans. Shifters these days usually make do with deer, or maybe cattle, sheep or rabbits when they hunt. Depends on their shifter breed, of course, as to what size prey they choose to bring down.
Vamp cooperation varies greatly, depending on their House. Some Masters and Mistresses, like mine until she met her final destruction a quarter century ago, have been willing to adopt the tenets of the Accord, at least on the surface. There are others who still choose to live outside the laws of this world, and it is now my job to ensure those transgressors are caught and appropriately sanctioned. Appropriate sanctions usually mean death. Units like mine are the only ones allowed to enforce the law in such a way. Especially when the goal is to save an innocent life.
To take a child… a small boy who did nothing more than respond to the cry of what probably sounded like a stray animal and wander out into the garden looking for it…
Rage rises at the thought of the one who got away.
Together, the rogues may have managed to crush my body, but I took the lifeblood of at least one of the fuckers. Too late for the child, sadly, but at least I know that particular shifter will never again take a human prey. His vamp partner, on the other hand, is another matter altogether.
Once, years ago in the much larger city of Melbourne to the south, something similar happened after the Accord was initially struck. Many innocent people died before the culprits were stopped and the Accord investigative units fully came into their power.
No one ever figured out why or how two loups could work together back then.
Rogues are normally loners who will kill without mercy or remorse until someone brings them down. The fact that not one, but two of them appeared to be working together in this instance, is far more concerning than I let on to Aleah. I need to contact the department’s head office and let them know this is more than a simple case of a lone loco wolf or a blood-mad vamp.
As a detective in the new order, it’s my job to keep the peace, and I’ve sworn an oath to that end. I need to find the other one—this killer rogue—and keep him alive long enough to find out what the fuck is going on.
From the edge of the forest, I cast one last look at Aleah’s cozy little cottage in which all the lights inside have begun to blaze. I know it’s a deliberate action from her. A message to me that she’s inside bathed in light, while I’m back out here in the damp darkness where I belong.
Doesn’t matter. I’m a vampire. I do belong in the darkness.
Sexy little banshee. I meant what I said. I will return, and when I do, I’m going to prove her wrong about vampires. We might belong to the night, but we’re not all diseased, blood-sucking monsters who kill without discretion or mercy.
The thought of how I might prove that to Aleah is strangely exhilarating, even as I slink away into the night to continue my search for a loup who likely epitomizes exactly the type of insane and rabid monster she’s afraid of.
Chapter Three
Aleah
I cannot believe I let him do that. I could rant and rave all night about not having any choice in the matter, but it wouldn’t be true. Of course, I had a choice. And for some weird reason, I chose to let him kiss me. At least I had the strength to say no before it went much further.
Too bad my body doesn’t feel as happy as my head about the fact that he left. Too bad the zing in my woman bits is still making itself felt, even though he’s out there in the dark somewhere and no longer pressing his engorged and very ready organ against my aching and equally ready clit.
Holy motherfucking hell. I almost let him drink my blood.
There is something about Luc that forces down my guard and makes me forget who or what he is, without even realizing that it’s happening. Is that how vamps lure their prey? With charm and sexual chemistry? Making sure their victim switches off the logical and thinking part of themselves and, instead, switches on their rampaging libido?
Despite the fact that, up until today, I’ve harbored nothing but hatred for all things vampiric, it seems one particular vamp has definitely managed to get under my skin in a most unexpected way.
I’m glad he’s out of my house. I’m glad he disappeared so quickly and seemingly without care. Back in the dark where you belong, monster.
The thoughts might be fierce, but they feel hollow. Was my aunt wrong all these years? Is it possible there are good as well as evil vampires? Just like there are with any other species?
I hurry around the house, switching on all the overhead lights. It’s a stupid gesture but I can’t seem to stop until the whole cottage is lit up like a Christmas tree.
Will I ever see him again? Do I want to see him again? I can’t settle at anything, and I’m grateful when Bobo and Suki appear out of nowhere, scratching at the door and demanding their dinner. My two Siamese cats are nothing if not predictable, especially when it comes to their stomachs. Dodging their sinuous bodies as they wind in and out around my legs gives me something other than a sexy vampire to think about.
Once the fur babies have been fed, I add a frozen curry to the microwave for myself. I might even have a glass of wine tonight, to celebrate. To celebrate what? Who the hell knows, but I feel like a glass of something, so I pull out a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. I’m just about to crack it open when the attack hits. Out of nowhere, like it does every time death comes calling.
One moment life is completely normal, and the next the wine bottle smashes all over the floor, the cats screech and flee to the next room, and I bend double, clutching at my belly as a rising wail pushes its way inexorably upward out of my chest.
No, no, no, no...
Not now. Not again. Two nights in a row. I can’t do this!
Who is it? Can I get there in time to warn them? Oh my God! The pain!
My fingers spasm and my breath sounds become harsh as I fight to remain on my feet.
It has to be someone close by. Much closer than last night. My range as a half-human is more restricted than a full-blood, which is why I moved so far out of the city. Fewer people. Less death. Less of this agonizing need to wail so loud that the whole world can hear my warning.
Only, no one ever hears my wail. Defective…fucking…voice.
Unbearable. I have to let it out.
Somehow, I manage to stagger outside and down the porch stairs. I make it all the way across my front garden before the next wave hits. The perfume from my gorgeous winter flowers laced with recent rain permeates the air, and I suck in deep breaths, fighting the call of death and focusing on the fresh scen
t of life and growth.
Not death. Not tonight. Not if I can help it.
Another surge of pain rushes through me and I clutch at the garden gate, fighting the wail. I have to get there in time. I have to let them know.
When the crescendo of pain briefly retreats, I wrench open the gate that separates my yard from the paddocks and make my way across one of the grassy fields that make up the remainder of my property. If anyone is watching I must look like a drunken fool, lurching and staggering, falling in the long damp grass and rising, as the pain takes hold more fully and death becomes ever more certain.
Finally, I reach the gate on the other side that leads from my land to the neighboring property. My beehives are off somewhere to the left, hidden in the darkness. My beautiful honeybees. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re sleeping.
The trees thin out at this point and I totter through the gate into an open meadow where my view down the hill into the valley is uninterrupted. The windows are ablaze with light in the farmhouse at the base of the incline. My closest neighbors, Darrie and Gwen. No. Not them. Please, not them. I have very few friends in this world, and those I have allowed to sneak in under my emotional guard are very special people, indeed.
The wail is imminent. I fight it. I fight it so hard, until I can’t fight it one second longer. The sound bursts forth from my throat in a blast of fae-touched energy. If I were a full banshee, the whole region would hear my keening. Maybe if I were, someone might come to assist the person in need.
Instead, all that permeates the air is muted sobbing. My voice is defective, my wail all but useless, and just as I failed my beloved father all those years ago, I’m about to fail Darrie or Gwen.
I fail all of them. Every time. I’m never, ever enough.
Nausea rises and I drop to my knees. I’m not going to get there in time.
I start to crawl, my hands and knees squelching in dirt made damp by recent drizzle.
Don’t die. Please don’t die. Let me be wrong this time. Please let me be wrong.
I’m not. The moment death arrives I give up the futile crawl and curl into a tight ball, keening in near silence, unable to move further as waves of nausea from the agony of death wash over me like relentless surf against a rocky shore.
