My Vampire: A Vampire Fae Urban Fantasy Romance (My Supernatural Boyfriend Book 1)

by E E Everly

  I shoulder past him, ignoring his extended hand. Natalia sends him a look that says, She’s furious with you, you nitwit, before appearing at my side. “I’ll take care of Sasha,” she says to no one in particular.

  She and Dumitru are my protection as we walk the halls through Deorc Mansion. After passing rooms full of Gothic décor, we come to a series of rooms on a lower level that are high tech.

  Ah, the tech room looks to be communication central.

  Dumitru has me drink a concoction that’s supposed to have an untraceable tracker that will stay in my system for the next twenty-four hours.

  Definitely high tech. Nothing like this is on Belyven. I was impressed when I encountered the television, but this serum blows me away. It’s not even magic.

  Natalia and Dumitru assure me they won’t lose me. I’m putting faith in technology I don’t understand, and part of me knows the seed demons don’t want to kill me. I just have to do their bidding. It’s not as if I’m going to my death.

  At least I hope I’m not.

  In the armory, Natalia fits me with a bulletproof vest over my bra while Dumitru stands guard at the door. “Vith the vest hidden, ve hope the demons von’t suspect you are bait.”

  “Right.” My shoulders are crushed under the heaviness.

  Natalia adjusts the closures on the vest while catching my eye with curiosity. “You and Killian have a strange connection.”

  It’s not a question, but she wants an answer. “He can’t seem to live without me”—I scratch my forehead, lifting my arms around Natalia’s as she works—“er, my blood, that is.”

  “Hmm.” That’s not the explanation she’s looking for. No vampire would be able to live without my blood once he’s tried it. Natalia wants to know about my relationship with Killian.

  I’m not sure what to tell her because I don’t know myself.

  The ripping Velcro makes me cringe as Natalia repositions yet another closure. I have to admit Velcro is a handy human invention. I pull my shirt back on and button it. The fabric stretches tight.

  “Ugh.” I squirm under the constricting outfit. “This is not comfortable.”

  “You do look fat.” Natalia scrunches her lips as she stands back, scrutinizing me. “Vear your jacket over the vest so it’s less obvious.”

  I’m trying to situate my jacket when Killian appears at the doorway. Dumitru, bless him, blocks Killian’s entrance.

  I’m not really angry with Killian, but he needs to suffer for losing control and lashing out.

  Killian presses a hand to the doorframe. “I’d like to speak to Sasha.”

  Dumitru doesn’t budge.

  Killian growls, low, deep in his throat, and for some reason, that growl lances my animosity. I sigh and shake my head. “It’s all right. Let him in.”

  Killian squeezes past Dumitru and stops inches from me. Natalia and Dumitru hover near the doorway.

  “Alone.” Killian’s inspecting the floor.

  I nod. My temporary bodyguards disappear. Sprites, it feels good having them support me.

  As I fiddle with the placement of my jacket, I pretend Killian’s not here. My clothes don’t feel right. The bulletproof vest doesn’t align with the jacket’s seams at my shoulders.

  I try to stay calm and focus my mind on what’s coming, although Killian makes it really hard. He just stands there.

  Fine. Don’t talk.

  I review in my head so I don’t snap at him. Top priority—retrieve amulet. Second priority—save father. I made Anya promise she wouldn’t kill Korbinian right away, until we could be sure we couldn’t save the human—the man who’s my father, not the demon scum. Once I take the amulet’s powers, I can attempt to free my father, but I have no idea how. I’m not sure what Killian thinks about freeing my father. I also have reservations about working with Anya.

  I fasten the buttons on my jacket, feeling bloated and restricted. The only comfort I take is that my wings, which are composed of energy, work through clothes, including my vest.

  Killian reaches for my upturned collar.

  Is he waiting for me to say something?

  I blow air out my nose, venting some frustration because I’m about to give in. Someone has to. Plus, what does Killian think about everything, and Anya? I trust her less than I trust Seth. “Anya’s agenda is sketchy at best.” I stare at Killian’s chin, hoping the intensity makes him squirm and hoping I don’t set him off as I question his sister’s loyalties. “How can you be sure we can trust her?”

  Killian smooths my collar, but his voice is void of emotion. “We can’t. Not really. Which is why I’m keeping my eye on you.” His words are ironic, considering he’s not looking at my face.

  We share awkward silence, with his hands gripping my collar right under my clavicles. Sometimes I wish my vampire would move with superhuman speed and hurry to the point instead of fuming. But time is different when you live forever. I’ve learned that when Killian takes his time it’s for good reason.

  His fingers relax and before I know it, he runs a hand over my silky ponytail, watching the strands fall away as he reaches the bottom.

  What is it, Killian? I’m screaming in my head.

  I slip my hand into his hand, believing I understand. “This is my choice. I’m not worried. My mother told me to retrieve the amulet anyway. We just have vamp force on our side now.”

  Killian speaks as if he’s addressing a wall. “Why you’d risk your life staying out until dusk, just to get cocoa, after your mother told you every supernatural being and his brother wants your blood, is beyond me.”

  What? That happened hours ago. “Oh this,” I say, annoyed he’s brought up my foolish cocoa run. I drop his hands. He wants to make me feel guilty over what brought us here in the first place? He obviously doesn’t understand my need for ambrosia. “I’m sorry if you don’t approve of my choices.”

  A fire flares in his eyes, although he keeps his voice calm. “The demons nearly nabbed you.”

  “But you showed up. Then your vamp besties. I say it worked out.” I admit to myself that traipsing around at dusk is stupid when I have a fridge full of ice cream at home. But forget that. I assumed wrong about what bothered him, and to make himself feel better, he chastised me like a child.

  My flippant answer pisses him off. “This is not a game. How am I supposed to keep your head attached when you’re so careless?”

  I grimace, but not because of the image in my brain of my bodiless head rolling around, but because I don’t like that he’s made it his personal responsibility to worry about me. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with my head.”

  “I do.”

  We both stare at the floor. I hate this. Killian and I have never fought. We never had anything to fight about before.

  Stop this. Stop this, Sasha. Just fix all of it. With our close proximity and our silence and my suffocating jacket and vest, I flush.

  I’m about to bolt, but Killian huffs in some sort of final acceptance.

  Of what, I’m clueless.

  “I’m sorry for what I said back there, in the hall,” he mutters.

  You mean when you wanted to kill me?

  I shrug; he’s a vampire after all.

  “What I did, that horrifying display, you could say that’s why I don’t live here with Anya. When she pokes the monster, it comes out.” Killian shoves his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to shrug it off, Sasha. I could have killed you.”

  “I doubt that.” My brave face is talking. The stairwell encounter flashes through my head. I absolutely know he could kill me.

  Killian narrows his eyes as he glowers. I bet he’s choking back another snide remark. “Thanks for knocking sense into me.”

  I sort of want to melt. Because he’s close and husky and bent out of shape over all of it. I trace a single fingertip down his jaw. The muscle quivers. He deserves an apology from me, although not for the hot cocoa run. “I’m sorry I punched you.”

  Endearingly, Killi
an looks up. “You don’t have to apologize.”

  I smirk. “I want to.”

  “It’d be easier if you didn’t.”

  Why, so our animosity puts distance between us? I have enough space with his brooding. “Ah, you’re back to your old self.” I refuse to go back to him slinking around, stalking me for my safety, not when we’ve had so much interaction lately. I’m interested in progress, even if neither of us can put a label on our relationship. “Remind me why you think you owe me an eternal life debt?” I’d rather have him follow me for different reasons.

  Killian’s face is stone as his gaze penetrates my pupils. My retinas are probably perfectly visible with his vamp sight.

  Natalia pokes her head into the armory. “Your car’s ready.”

  Killian blinks and whirls away. Rats. Natalia has impeccable timing. Plus, she had to have witnessed our uncomfortable exchange.

  I should be embarrassed, but I don’t care.

  Killian steers me into the hall. At least he has my back.

  Whether for duty or something else.

  Whatever.

  He’s my vampire.

  SEVENTEEN

  We drive the rest of the night and arrive at the designated safe house. As we step inside, I sneeze. The air’s musty, but I was told the cabin is comfortably equipped with modern conveniences. I guess it’s not used much or nobody bothers to dust.

  Killian’s on his cell with Natalia, confirming that demons did indeed follow our trail. He’s also checking that the local vamps are ready to go, should the demons strike. Anya wouldn’t let any vampires from her mansion tail us. She didn’t want the seed demons to see them and give away our plan.

  I hope the demons wait a few hours before they strike. It would be wise on their part to delay until the sun’s up anyway.

  I’m tired and cranky. I hate to admit it, but my nerves are on end. Not to mention, the few hours I slept in the car left me with a crick in my neck. I’m seriously jonesing for ambrosia. No one grabbed any pints before we left vamp central.

  The safe house is a rustic cabin on the outside to hide its purpose on the inside—a place for vampires on the run to hide during the day. I don’t bother to turn on a light to check out my surroundings. No reason settling in. We will be gone before long. I go straight to a window and open the shade enough to keep a lookout. Killian, too engrossed with his phone call, crosses the room in the dark. Sometimes he doesn’t notice when he uses his vampire night vision and forgets other beings prefer light.

  In the dusk, I see as far as the car on the gravel drive. How many demons are out there? Why wait for them to grab us? I should step outside and say, “Come and get me.” The furrow in my forehead grows ever deeper, twisting into a headache the longer I stare.

  I wish I could sense the demons.

  I wish I had ambrosia.

  I wish a vampire as moody as I am didn’t just chuck his cell phone at the couch.

  If worse comes to worse, Killian will lose his self-control, which is hanging by a thread, vamp out, and suck me dry. Then I won’t have to dwell on unfulfilled wishes.

  “What’s going on?” I’d like to say, “Quit worrying.”

  “The local vamps are waiting for you to make cloud cover. It has to be a pretty heavy storm. They’re making a big deal about coming out during daylight.”

  “I’ll get right on that. Although, don’t you think a storm will clue the seed demons right off?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Killian says. “They’ll come for you anyway.”

  “This really has you in a grumpy slump.”

  “Don’t start with me, snarky Sasha.”

  “I’m okay with this.”

  Killian hovers near the ash-filled fireplace, brooding. I huff. Whatever.

  I close my eyes and stir up the atmosphere. “I’ll bring the clouds in gradually so it looks like a natural storm rolling in.”

  The exhilaration of stirring up the elements brings a bit of elation into my heart. It’s nothing a pint of ice cream wouldn’t do.

  I think of what Killian must have been like as a human. How close was he with his sister? I couldn’t imagine killing someone I cared about to save them from a worse fate.

  But Anya seems fine with her life. Maybe she wasn’t at the time. Killian clearly isn’t fine with what he failed to do. Yet he’s a vamp just the same. He embraces his lifestyle. He doesn’t shun drinking from his freshies. He’s not power hungry either. Killian tries to be civil instead of vamping out all the time. I can’t comprehend what his curse must feel like. He traded a short mortal life for superhuman traits and immortality but for a body that needs blood to sustain it.

  I see the blood sucking as the only major drawback.

  My eyes are still closed and my head is tilted toward the ceiling when I say, “Why do you believe you can break your curse? Who said you could do that?”

  How would breaking the curse happen? I see only two ways—his spirit leaves his undead body and he ceases to exist on this plane of existence or his body somehow becomes alive and mortal again. I see the former happening, not the latter. His flesh can’t be restored without drinking blood, hence the curse.

  When Killian doesn’t say anything, I open my eyes and round on him. “Look, I told Anya I’d be bait if the other vamps had your back, but I’m only going through with this if you tell me what you’re moping about.”

  Maybe it’s not about Anya.

  Killian crouches and rakes his fingers through the ash. He grabs a handful and lets it fall between his fingers. My stomach sickens as a thought pops into my head. Ashes are what vampires become when they burn. Well, actually everyone does, but vamps burn more readily, especially with sun exposure. Playing in ash doesn’t sit well with me. Doesn’t Killian know how morbid he’s being? Is he pondering the same thing?

  His stalling, his vamp evasive thing, is going to make me lose it.

  After some fuming on my part, he dumps the remaining palmful of ash into the fireplace and wipes his hand on his jeans. I cringe because most likely soot will still be on his hand. What if that was ash from a vampire!

  Sasha, get a grip.

  “The truth?” he asks.

  I don’t hold my breath. “Please.” Just tell me!

  A beep signals the drop of the electronic blackout screens—a must with every vampire dwelling. I sigh. Sunrise. The trap has been set, and we are stuck. At least Killian is. I still have a mind to walk out.

  I stir the air as I wait for Killian to compose his deep-seated revelation about his curse. Without seeing them, I sense the clouds heavy and full of moisture. The vamps had better move into position. The seed demons will attack soon.

  Killian stands across the darkened room, lit by only the blue glowing dots of several electronics. It’s amazing how they pierce the darkness, so much so that neither of us makes a move to flick on the end table lamp. Killian should be able to see me with his vamp sight, but despite the bluish glow, he’s a black silhouette.

  And I’m still waiting with growing impatience. Why does Killian believe his vampire curse can be broken?

  “It was your mother.” Killian drops the words with an empty voice.

  “Excuse me?” I race through my mind, trying to figure out what part of the conversation his statement fits with. I know I know, but I refuse to believe his words. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

  His shadow is frozen, but his words have a movement of their own. “Astra told me—no promised me—she could restore my sister.”

  My mouth opens with the absurdity of his statement. “Did you even ask my mother what ‘restore’ means? What does that mean?” We’re back to the becoming alive and mortal. How would that work?

  “You heard me before, that Anya would have a chance at a human life.”

  “Making a vampire human is not possible,” I say with as much gentleness as I can. “You’re undead. Your body is dead. The magic in your blood is the only thing that keeps you alive.” How
can my mother make flesh mortal? How can she undo a vampire curse?

  Killian moves. It’s a flinch that signals he blurred for a second. It signals he’s restraining his rage instead of throwing a chair through the window. Acting out wouldn’t do well for him anyway with the sun up. He speaks with even words. “She said it was.”

  I have him doubting his hopes. I don’t see it on his face, but there’s tension between us.

  His shoulders hold an almost undetectable slouch. I want to assure him, but I can’t validate what I don’t know, and the doubt crushes him. His hard, ever-certain vampire frame sags.

  I shouldn’t have called his body dead. I’m sure Killian loves being reminded of that. I turn the blame away from what he can’t control to the person who gave him the idea in the first place. Killian might never have had such grandiose aspirations if my mother hadn’t made her promise. “My mother is a liar.”

  There. I said it. I won’t cling to the notion that the mother storm sprite is a magnanimous matron when she’s not.

  “She’s a liar.” The more I say the words, the more they feel like liberation.

  “I have to believe it’s possible.”

  My heart aches for him. I wish it were possible for him and Anya to become human.

  I take a step forward but hit a cold barrier. A leather couch is between Killian and me. “I wish I could tell you for certain it’s true, but a storm sprite, even a mother storm sprite, can’t restore life.”

  “I won’t accept that.”

  Why is Killian willing to suffer so much for an uncertain promise? I brace myself on the couch and swing my legs over. I want to comfort him, in the way he’s given me comfort by watching over me for so long. I perch on the back, with my feet on the cushions. I’ve never tried to console a vampire. Will he let me?

  I keep my eyes on Killian. They’re growing accustomed to the dimness; I can almost make out his face. “Why’d she tell you this? When did you even meet my mother?”

  He chooses to move in a slow human fashion as he sweeps his hair back from his forehead. For some lame reason, I’m thinking about the soot on his hand that I’m sure is now in his hair.