by E E Everly
TWO
Sasha
One year later
I slap down the concrete stairwell in my flimsy sandals and crouch beside the figure slumped on the landing. “Killian!” His head rests against the wall at an awkward angle while his body stretches out in the cramped space. He’s limp.
And breathless—but that’s normal.
How am I supposed to tell if a vampire’s alive, er, undead?
“Killian.” I prod his bloody cheek and push back his bangs.
His eyes snap open. “Sasha.” His raspy voice echoes. “They’re in the building. Get out before they find you.”
Killian shouldn’t be here, not for my benefit, not to protect me while endangering himself. “Hush.” I pull on his hand, annoyed at finding my vampire crumpled and injured. “They’ve done their damage. They’re gone. They won’t be back tonight.”
Damage meaning, the dead girl in the shower room. Her screams alerted everyone in the dorm. The police are on their way.
I have to move Killian. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t have come. I was in no danger.” At least I’d like to believe I was in no danger.
Killian’s slim frame is heavy—dead weight for an average-sized girl like me tugging on him. He gropes to his feet and leans over my back, with an arm draped over my shoulder, as we work our way up the stairs. His body shakes. Whatever someone has done to him will only be fixed by blood; he isn’t healing fast enough.
He growls in my ear as his chin digs into my shoulder. “You were in danger. Don’t ever tell me you’re not. Those seed demons were coming for you. They just found a tastier treat to distract them.”
I snort. For Killian to imply that someone else is tastier than I am means something’s special about the girl’s blood—Killian must have smelled it.
Does that make me jealous, the idea that a vampire finds someone else’s blood more inviting than mine?
Maybe if he was more than just my vampire stalker and self-proclaimed protector.
We reach room 203. I kick the door open and stagger inside with my burden. My roommates, Lexa and Mandy, are on my bed where I left them, huddled together. Books and papers strewn everywhere are evidence of our interrupted late-night study session of all subjects literary. Mandy clamps her hand over Lexa’s mouth, smothering her screech. Probably because I’m covered in Killian’s blood, or perhaps because I’m hauling a known vampire into our room.
“Why’d you bring him here?” Mandy asks.
I have an urge to punch her in the face. How many times did I explain the bond Killian and I have? How many times did I explain that Killian wouldn’t hurt them, only because they’re my friends, even in his weakened state and craving blood?
I can’t make it to a bed. Killian and I drop to the floor, in front of the antique wardrobe opposite the door. He presses his forehead into the crook of my neck, at my shoulder, the exact place where he’d bite someone. I want to say he breathes heavy because he’s in pain, but Killian doesn’t exchange oxygen in his lungs; air passes so he can speak and smell.
He shudders in my arms, from trauma and from my scent. He won’t bite me without permission. No matter how much he wants to.
My hand comes away from his side, slicked with blood. “Why aren’t you healing?”
He groans and nuzzles my neck, not because he’s begging for a drink, but because he hurts with ferocity. This rare glimpse at a weakness in him alarms me. I pull his face away. His irises are completely black, covered by dilated pupils—vampire mode—hiding his otherwise silvery blue eyes. His canines protrude an inch past his gums.
He wants blood. “They used an ice sword. I won’t heal.”
“You mean you won’t heal without my blood.” The blood of a storm sprite—a power-boosting elixir that supernatural beings would gladly kill me for.
Killian rounds over his knees. Blood continues to seep through his fingers, soaking his torso and dripping to his jeans. Sirens wail in the distance.
“Take him somewhere else, Sasha!” Lexa hisses. “He’ll bleed all over the carpet, and then how will we explain that to the cops?”
I don’t care what they think of him. I have an odd claim on this vampire. Besides, he won’t be leaving without my help.
He’s incapable of leaving without my help.
They probably hate Killian because of what he did the first time he drank my blood almost a year ago. I imagine their horror over and over, the way my lifeless, blood-soaked body must have looked on the bed—a rather raw introduction for two oblivious humans to the world of the supernatural. Killian’s brutality couldn’t have been helped. He’d never tasted storm sprite blood before. An animal unhinged inside him.
He’s regretted it ever since. Even despised himself, hence his incessant need to make sure I’m safe.
But he needs to drink again. Right now. He can confront his remorse later.
I pull my jacket off and pluck open the top buttons on my blouse, letting my shirt hang off my shoulders.
“Just go,” Killian snarls, keeping his face tucked into his knees. “All of you.”
I lift his chin. His face is too pale from lack of immortal blood in his system. I tilt my head and swing my long braid to the side. “You have to.”
He turns his head away and rocks slightly, squeezing his hands around his torso.
Lexa jumps off the bed, her ponytail wagging, and glances out the window. “They’re here. The cops are entering the building.”
I curse. “DO IT!”
I pry his chest off his thighs. He’s losing to his desire; he doesn’t resist as I draw him closer.
As Killian succumbs to his inner fight and my demand, he rises up on his knees, with hungry eyes. “Forgive me.”
THREE
His fangs sink into my neck. The pain is quick and sharp, much worse than a shot. His canines are like a six-gauge hypodermic needle, not the tiny needles they use for lab work, making two holes in my skin the circumference of pencil-top erasers.
His fangs retract, and my life-giving fluid bubbles out of the holes, filling Killian’s mouth. This isn’t seductive and rapturous the way so many movies portray. As the potency of my magical blood courses through him, Killian’s gentle licks and timid draws turn into satiating sucks, as if he’s my boyfriend intent on giving me a colossal hickey.
Lexa picks up the bat leaning against her bed. “If he doesn’t let go soon, I’ll bust his skull wide open.”
Behind Killian, I hold up a finger, indicating for Lexa to wait. He’s lost to his appetite, uninhibited—dangerous even, if interrupted. Killian embraces me tighter as his body swells with renewal.
His wound should be healed. My nails dig into his back. The pinching in my neck intensifies. I don’t cry out but only sink my nails deeper, cueing Killian to stop.
He no longer quivers as he crushes me against himself with unnatural strength. I rake my fingers down his back, through his black T-shirt. Killian gasps and breaks his suction. He covers his bloodstained mouth and huffs useless, unnecessary breaths. He doesn’t have to say a word; he’s horrified.
I clasp a shaky hand over my wound. “Get up. We have to go.” I say this even as I know I’m going nowhere without his help.
Killian slides my shirt over my shoulders and fastens the buttons. He drapes my jacket over me before lifting me into his arms.
“Don’t let him take you.” Mandy scrambles to her feet. “Are you crazy?”
My head flops against Killian’s hard shoulder. “Just until the cops clear. We can’t have them thinking we had anything to do with this.”
Killian slips out the door with me, no other words spoken.
He’s down the steps and across the parking lot before I realize it, gliding through the shadows of the bleak night.
“Where are we headed?” I ask as Killian buckles me into the passenger seat of his sleek car.
He hovers over me for a microsecond. He’s debating whether he should lick my neck and seal the wounds with his weird vamp-healing sa
liva.
That would mean tasting me again, so he won’t.
“Forget it.” I press my fingertips over the jagged punctures and try not to cringe.
Killian stiffens, ever so slightly, but ducks out of the car. In a blink, he’s squeaking across the leather seat on the driver’s side. His voice is husky with more emotion than embarrassment when he speaks. “Deorc Mansion. I need a healer. Your blood won’t cure this wound. It only buys me time.”
I close my eyes and turn in the icy seat, burrowing into a ball. I haven’t been to Deorc Mansion, and there’s good reason.
It’s crawling with vampires.
FOUR
When Killian stops at a gated entrance, I startle awake. The guard stares at him, for all of one second, before waving us through. Killian is well known, even if he doesn’t live on the estate with the bloodsuckers. He pulls up front, where two vamps wait, and climbs out of the car.
“Natalia.” Killian staggers and falls against the hood. We arrived just in time; he’s out of strength.
“Vhat did you do this time, Killian?” Natalia speaks with a heavy Russian accent that I envy. It makes her sexy and dangerous, as a vampire should be.
Sexy and dangerous probably isn’t a good thing for me, especially as a storm sprite.
“It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” Killian presses his hands into the hood, supporting himself.
Natalia ducks under his arm, sweeping her wavy red hair over her other shoulder. “Yeah, right. That’s vhy you are here now.”
My car door opens, and the other vampire leans in to unbuckle my belt. I have too little blood in my system to do anything to assist or to feel the fear I should.
The vampire’s brown hair grazes his shoulders, hiding the square angles of his face. As he pulls back from unbuckling me, his chin divot deepens with his smile. “Vow. You smell enticing.”
Killian mumbles as he comes around the car with Natalia’s help. “We’re not going to have a problem, are we?”
Natalia snorts. “You von’t have a problem vith Dumitru and me. Your problem vill be valking through that front door.”
Dumitru lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing, and Natalia hauls Killian after us. I tentatively prod my neck. The bleeding has stopped, but I have dried blood streaked to my clavicle. That could be enough to agitate a few vampires into action.
Deorc Mansion’s entry hall leads to a vast gathering room at the house’s rear. Dumitru doesn’t go near the doorway, but as we turn to ascend a sweeping staircase, lounging vampires turn in our direction. Their hungry faces restore the terror I should feel. I’m sure they know well the scent of storm sprite blood, and if not, my scent would be enough to intrigue them. A few of them lick their lips. Others take a slight step in my direction. I whisper Killian’s name as I clutch Dumitru’s solid shoulders.
Natalia’s holding most of Killian’s weight. He pauses on the step above me, gripping the railing. I’m worried I’ll have an incapacitated vampire on my hands, and then Natalia and Dumitru will decide I’m fair game.
“Don’t worry, sweet Sasha.” Killian hangs his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His words would be more comforting if Natalia wasn’t dragging him up the steps.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“My room,” Natalia says.
Dumitru takes the lead, evidently knowing where he’s going. The mansion’s wing stretches on forever. Finally, after rounding a corner, Natalia presses her finger to a keypad and a wooden door swings open. The room, or I should say suite, is plush, with thick carpet and heavy draperies. Natalia half drags Killian past a curtained, Gothic, four-poster bed. Once inside, Dumitru deposits me on a velvet chaise near the fireplace. He clears the desk next to the window, and Natalia helps Killian recline onto the makeshift exam table.
“Why not the bed?” I lean back. The heat from the fireplace provides a stark contrast with the cold stares on the way in, to my relief.
“I don’t vant him bleeding all over my comforter,” Natalia says. “I just changed the bedding.”
I question her with an eyebrow raise.
She shrugs, busy with situating Killian. “Vhat? I’m practical.”
Dumitru opens a cabinet in the corner and pulls out bandages and disposable pads. After Natalia lifts Killian’s shirt, exposing the wound, Dumitru shoves a pad underneath Killian.
“Have you treated an ice sword injury before?” I didn’t know seed demons used swords, but it makes sense if they didn’t want the noise of a louder weapon such as a gun. And maybe ice swords were the advantage in an enclosed space with a vampire.
“Yes.” Natalia doesn’t take time to look away.
The area around the wound is red and angry. Blue veins snake away from the slash.
I gasp. “It’s like poison.”
“Yes. And he vill die vithout my help,” Natalia presses her hand against Killian’s side. He grunts. “Storm sprite blood is quite remarkable; no vonder vampires crave it, but the blood is not countering the poison.” Natalia mumbles some barely audible words, and blood seeps from the wound. Killian goes slack.
“What are you doing?” I rise off the chaise, but Dumitru gently pushes my shoulders down.
“It’s magic,” Dumitru says. “Don’t interrupt her.”
Natalia has gone into a trance as she whispers.
“She needs… ambrosia,” Killian mumbles through his delirium. “Aw… why… didn’t… grab from… dorm?”
“There wasn’t time.” I submit to Dumitru’s insistence that I don’t waste my energy by moving.
“Vhat is this ambrosia?” Dumitru asks.
I snicker, giddy from lack of blood, as I think of my usual supernatural fix. Killian grimaces as the amount of blood seeping from him increases. At this rate, neither of us will be of any use.
“Storm sprite… restorative,” Killian says. “Boosts… a sprite’s vitality.”
“Vhere can I find some?” Dumitru asks. “I vill go and get it.”
“Easier than you… think,” Killian says through a grunt.
“Sugar and dairy.” I nod and lick my lips. “Cream.” I moan slightly because of my need for their sustenance.
“Specifically?” Killian prods. His blood flow has slowed.
“Chocolate chip cookie dough.” My eyelids flutter as my eyes roll back. Persnickety pixies, I need some now.
Natalia surfaces from her trancelike state but continues to hold her hands above his wound. “Ice cream?”
“Yep.” Killian turns his head in my direction. His face is wearier than I’ve ever seen, but his eyes are bright with musing. “Surprised… me too.”
“We’re all different.” I giggle as I meet Killian’s knowing gaze. He’s seen me eat my ambrosia. “Every sprite discovers their own ambrosia when they come to Earth.” I feel sorry for the storm sprite whose ambrosia is mustard. I gag just thinking about it. But sugar and cream—euphoric.
Natalia smirks. “You faeries are odd.”
“Sprite. Not faerie.”
“Vhatever. There,” Natalia says to Killian. “I’ve siphoned the poison from your blood, but you need to drink.”
“I vill be right back vith ambrosia for the lady and a fresh drink for Killian.” Dumitru brushes from the room without a whisper.
Dutiful dwarfs! Vamps sure move silently when they want to.
Natalia bandages Killian’s wound. “You vill heal as soon as you drink.” She helps him sit up. He’s no longer half-delirious from poison. I slide my feet to the floor. My hands shake, and I tuck them between my thighs to hide them.
Killian frowns. I give him a doleful smile in return. He’s berating himself for the drink he took earlier.
“Just stop it,” I say.
“I shouldn’t have done it.” His bent brows wrinkle his forehead.
“I’ve moved past it; you should too.” Except if I pass out, Killian will really kick himself then.
Dumitru enters with a qu
art of chocolate chip cookie dough. I immediately salivate and hold my hands out.
“You are in luck,” he says. “One of our freshies came in vith three cartons of ice cream, and this vas among them.”
I seize the carton and the spoon from Dumitru. My fingers fumble with the lid, refusing to work. Dumitru jumps right in and pries it off.
“Thanks.” For a moment I’m mesmerized by his clunky yet nimble fingers.
Killian clears his throat. “I’d like a few minutes alone with Sasha.”
Natalia smiles slyly but nods. “The room is yours. I’ll spend the night with Dumitru. Sasha, please feel free to vash up and grab a clean shirt from my second drawer. And bundle the blood-soaked one up in a trash bag.” She wrinkles her nose. “The smell is strong.”
I blanch and impulsively cover the blood on my shirt with my arms, as if that will hide the odor. It’s mostly Killian’s blood, but some of it’s mine—the small amount on the collar. I try to play it cool and relax my body even though I’m a bit freaked. “Thanks, Natalia. I seriously owe you one.”
“Not a problem,” she says.
Dumitru holds his hand out to Natalia as he speaks to Killian. “Your freshie is on her vay up.”
“My thanks.” Killian hunches over while sitting on the desk’s edge, bracing his side.
Natalia bundles up the blood-covered trash and secures it in a bag. She takes Dumitru’s outstretched hand. “Good night.”
As soon as they leave, I scrape the spoon across the carton’s top and pop the luscious cream into my mouth. The ambrosia melts and slides down my throat. Pure delight fills me. I savor another mouthful with my eyes closed. Nothing is better than ice cream. “Mmmmh, oh my gosh.” I’ve grown accustomed to the phrase my roommates constantly say. I don’t know who gosh is, and I don’t care because I’m blissed out.
I’m uncertain how much I devour before Killian stops me. “Sasha, do you have to moan with every bite?”
I freeze with the spoon halfway to my mouth. Oops. I always forget. Mandy and Lexa constantly tease me about how my eating ambrosia seems like such an enraptured, orgasmic experience.
