Undone By Blood (The Vampire Flynn Book 5)

by Peter Dawes

  ‘Are you sure you want to do it this way so soon?’ Flynn chimed within my thoughts. ‘Aren’t we setting her up for eventual failure?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It will not be failure if she kills him, or somebody else. At the same time, when she gets her memories back, she will be grateful not to have so much blood on her hands. We are protecting her.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you still feel guilty over how many people we killed.’

  ‘That you do not baffles me.’

  ‘This has always been the difference between us, Peter.’ He sighed, the sound laden with resignation. ‘Fine, do it your way.’

  ‘I had intended to regardless.’ My attention returned to Monica, who had slithered closer to the man, until their bodies touched. The way she pressed against him brought a shiver to my spine, evoking the same reaction she had inspired when she bit me. Her hand lifted from mine, palm settling on his chest and coasting up to his shoulder. What little will he had left responded positively to her.

  “What do I do now, Peter?” she asked.

  “You know precisely what to do,” I said, looking her in the eyes when she glanced at me. Nodding at the veins of his neck, I inched close enough to hover over his shoulder, continuing only when she trained her focus there. “Bite down the same way you did with me. You will find his blood much more enticing, but I want you to keep listening to his pulse. Pay attention to it, because you need to stop before it slows. The moment it does, if you have not pulled away, you must do so then.”

  “What’ll happen if I don’t?” Her voice soft, its dreamy cadence indicated I only had half of her attention. Still, it comforted me more than if I did not have any at all.

  “You will kill him if you do not.”

  “And that’d be a bad thing, right?”

  “We can make amends if you do, Love. Stopping can be a challenge, but it is not too early to practice.”

  Monica nodded, though this time I had less faith that she had understood what I had attempted to say. Instead, she touched her nose to his skin, breathing in deep and groaning in response to the scent emanating from him. I had the thought to issue the same words which had been spoken to me, telling her to find the part which was the sweetest, reassuring her she would know when she had. Before I could, however, she plunged her teeth into his neck.

  He drew a sharp breath inward, his body quivering and his eyes drifting shut. The man gave no indication he knew what this strange woman had done to him – what was being done to him with every draught of blood Monica took from him. Small gasps and light moans lilted from his tongue, his stability wavering at the point when she had been feeding from him long enough to make him lightheaded. I wondered if she would stop and had already determined she might not when suddenly, the suckling noises stopped. She lifted her mouth from his neck and eyed me with a sinister form of intoxication in her gaze.

  “If you lick the wounds, they will close,” I murmured, as captivated as I was surprised that she had managed to detach from feeding. She followed my directive, dragging her tongue across the blood yet seeping from his neck and shivering in what must have been recognition of how much more she could have indulged in taking from him.

  I found myself so fixated on her, what she did next startled me.

  She gripped the man with both hands, using her newly-realized strength to pull him away from me and toss him onto the ground. The man collapsed with a groan, and while I had some confidence he would succumb to sleep, I had no chance to verify it had indeed before she stalked forward. Monica gripped me by the lapels of my coat and thrust me forward. My back impacted with the wall behind me and I grunted.

  All-at-once, I had her pressed against me with such violence, I did not know how to respond. Her teeth still out, Monica groped at me, wild and incensed, kissing at my neck and fumbling at my shirt as if she meant to tear it from my chest. I gasped, arms extended and hands unoccupied until she bit into me and removed what little inhibition I had left. Before my mind could catch up with my body, I had seated her backside in the palms of both hands, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around my waist. With one, swift motion I spun her around until our positions had been reversed, with her hitting the wall and my fingers digging into her the same way hers had tried to with me.

  “Now,” she whispered, her voice breathy.

  “Now?” I asked, my lips dancing with hers. I felt my fangs itching to descend each time the sharp tips of hers teased at cutting me. “Here?”

  “Here. Now.” Both hands pressed against either side of my face as if to hold me in place, her kisses greedy and demanding, beckoning me to drown with her. It did not matter to her that, at any moment, somebody could come upon us rutting like animals, with an unconscious man at our feet still bearing the wounds of her feed. We should have already been cleaning up our mess and heading back to the coven estate, I told myself, but the thought seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from me with each moment that passed. The truth was, I wanted her as much as she did me.

  I shoved her harder against the wall, causing her to groan with approval. She worked open the buttons of my shirt as I did and I slid the folds of her skirt further up her legs, toying with her panties until she licked at the bleeding wounds she had inflicted into my throat. My mind became muddled, filled with small recollections of elastic snapping and using the building as leverage to reach for my belt and unbutton my pants. I became engulfed in need and immersed within her, my senses lost to the entire experience. With each thrust, I felt her consume me and with every decadent kiss exchanged under the night sky, something primal – something distinctly vampire – within me wanted to embrace everything it meant to be an immortal. She clenched and as each wave of climax washed over me, I felt as close to completed as I ever had since being turned.

  Dizzy from the sheer exhilaration of it all, I took my time descending from the high, coaxed back into the moment by the softer, more exploring kisses initiated by Monica. Her fingertips traced the contour of my jaw while her forehead touched mine and I smiled, opening my eyes to take in the satisfied expression on her face.

  “We should get home,” I muttered, contradicting my directive with each meeting of our lips I continued to indulge. She smirked and I laughed softly in recognition of our unwillingness to be detached. “Somebody is going to find us in this state and it will be a challenge to glamour away their memory of this if I cannot muster the ability to be chagrined.”

  Monica giggled. “What does that mean?” she asked. “Glamour away their memory?”

  “A unique talent we vampires have. I will teach you how to use it, but this is not the right time for it.” Our noses touched, her ministrations turning sweet without failing to entreat me. We exchanged one last kiss before I pulled away enough to unseat her, lowering her onto her feet and ensuring she had settled onto the ground before I reached to assemble my clothing back into order. She watched in silent appreciation and after I buckled my belt, she strode closer and helped button the last of my buttons. I felt a stirring at the way she slipped her hand underneath the waistband of my pants, in an effort to tuck my shirt back in.

  The quirk in her brow offered a challenge. I flashed fangs at her in response.

  She waited patiently while I produced a knife, cutting a superficial wound to conceal the puncture wounds on the strange man’s neck. Leaving him to sleep off the loss of blood, with some assurance that he would neither freeze, nor die of shock, I raced off with her, laughing at the way she coaxed me back to the coven estate. At first, she would race ahead of me and beckon me with a curl of her finger. When I caught up with her, she would sink into my arms and grasp my hands and tug me along until we had entered the confines of our sanctuary and commenced a race up the stairs. No sooner had the door shut than we became entangled again, one final thought spared only in gratitude that Robin and Ophelia had since left.

  I fell asleep with her in my arms that morning, swept up in the perfection of the moment. I th
ought of a hundred nights like that, adding in the times when we would be able to visit with our children again, and what it would be like to see the years unfold with her by my side. Europe and its affairs became dismissed notions, surrendered with the fleeting thought that Robin would help ensure our protection.

  Whether it was folly or not, I slept free from worry for the first night in a long while, the blind seer enthralled by his sorceress.

  Part Two

  Dueling Natures

  “Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring

  that eating the apple was justified?”

  Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor

  Chapter Four

  While the concerns happening abroad never truly fled from my thoughts, I also allowed myself more moments in which to forget them over the course of the next few weeks. Monica’s first days as a vampire swept into a whirlwind of events, starting with our next attempt at hunting and blurring into a haze of decadence by the time Robin finally departed for Europe. While I saw him out, I attempted a light-hearted assertion that we would behave ourselves in his absence.

  He flashed a small, appreciative smile, but merely said goodbye in response.

  I watched him walk out to the car, which sat waiting to escort him to the airport. Seeing him carry the weight of my responsibilities made my disposition falter, my eyes fixed on the street even after he had disappeared. Had it not been for Monica, I might have lapsed into self-pity, or at least guilt over the fact that I had passed a heavy gauntlet to one not built for my burdens.

  Monica walked up behind me, however, and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her body close to mine. The way her palm settled over my heart made me smile, and while she had not yet reclaimed her memories, it gave me hope that somewhere deep inside, her true self lay waiting to be unlocked. My hand settled over hers. “What shall we do with our evening, Dearest?” I asked.

  “Tell me a story,” she whispered. “Maybe we can curl up together and spend the night talking.”

  I found the request whimsical, filling me with a sense of warmth. As I turned in her arms to face her, I touched her cheek, prompting her to tilt her head upward to look at me. In her eyes, I saw the woman I had married and all concerns of the world and my brother faded, bringing back that blissful unawareness of what dangers lay elsewhere. She had distilled the moment down to her and me once more and I found myself grateful for that.

  “That sounds like a splendid idea,” I said, bending enough to place a gentle kiss on her lips. We spent the remainder of that night embroiled in conversation, and many of the evenings which followed offered the same fare. She, who could not remember who she once was, had become insatiable to learn it all over again. And I could not help myself but to oblige.

  As such, I committed myself to making her my primary focus. I toiled over a letter to our children, apologizing for our delayed absence, but as I did, I gave them hope of our eventual reunion. Thinking of them, I spent the night explaining our family to Monica, beginning our discussion with words, but utilizing my psychic powers over the evenings that followed to show her mental vignettes from our years together. For the next month, I became a devout teacher, working to cultivate the kind of vampire I knew my wife would have wanted to become.

  She proved she had a few surprises in store for me, however. While she attended to our lessons with rapt attention, she became more assertive, her human confidence bolstered to the point of near-exhausting extroversion. The countless times when we took each other’s company became interspersed by moments when she sought interaction with other members of the coven, both in the communal areas of the coven house and our private quarters. I accompanied her, mostly to look after her, but discovered something taking place within me as well.

  In embracing Monica’s changed nature, I became more open to the idea of embracing my own.

  The shift from secluded outsider to willing participant became refreshing, at first. One couple, a pair named Angela and Martin, took an interest in us, though it took Ophelia’s coaxing for me to accept an invitation to become better acquainted. “They’re a younger pair,” she stated. “While Martin isn’t one of my children, Angela is, and it’s pleasant to see her taking an interest in other vampires.” When the coven mistress looked up from the paperwork she had been reading, she smirked. “Martin’s been good for her.”

  I perked an eyebrow, still standing near the doorway to her room while watching her place the packet of papers aside. Administrative matters, she had reassured when I had expressed concern over interrupting her. “Is Martin a new fixture in her life?” I asked.

  “He predates your arrival, before you’re tempted to get paranoid.” Her lips quirked. “I don’t need your powers to read your thoughts.”

  Both hands lifted, in a position of surrender. “You cannot fault me for being cautious.”

  “No, I can’t, but you also can’t let it stop you from interacting with other people.” The way she regarded me read of a parent lovingly scolding a child. She folded her hands atop the blotter on her desk, a faint grin carrying over from her reprimand into the words which followed. “Your darling is trying to learn more what it means to be part of this community. I know it hasn’t always been easy for you, but you have the chance to make her experience different.”

  I sighed, one hand lowering to settle on my waist while the other fell to my side. “My maker never did encourage me to immerse myself within the coven,” I admitted. “She liked me better kept to herself.”

  “You would never do it for the same reasons, but don’t let yourself fall into the same trap.”

  Slowly, Ophelia rose from her chair and paced closer to me, the fabric from the pantsuit she wore rustling as she approached. “You weren’t given enough time to settle when you came to us either,” she added.

  “No, I was not. Though that is not your fault.”

  “The life of a seer.” She sobered when she paused in front of me, sympathy laden in her gaze. “You have a brief respite from that. Why not relish it with her?”

  “And here, I thought that was precisely what I have been doing.” I breathed a chuckle before nodding. “Very well. I will consider accepting Martin and Angela’s invitation.”

  “Much better.” Lifting onto her toes – albeit less than Monica often had to – Ophelia placed a kiss on my cheek. “Tell your princess I said hello, and that I think she’s going to do wonderful things for you.”

  This time, the way I laughed carried more conviction behind it. “You are incorrigible.”

  “If that word ever had the power to dissuade me, it stopped working a long time ago.” Ophelia winked as she stepped back and folded her arms across her chest. “She is doing well, though?” she asked. “Your brother calls and asks after you two.”

  I nodded. “She still cannot remember her human life,” I said. “Which is troubling, but not yet at the point where I believe we need to intervene.”

  “She might not remember it at all, darling. You need to prepare yourself for that.”

  “Yes, I am trying.” Any mirth I had gathered threatened to slink away with the recognition of the one true complaint I carried. Holding fast to my smile became a strained effort. “If she cannot remember who she once was, then I must continue helping her embrace who she is now.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, because I couldn’t agree more. In a way, she might have an advantage over the rest of us, who had to mourn passing from one life to the next.” Ophelia reached between us to pet my arm reassuringly. “She will adore your children just as much when she meets them and she loves you no matter what her memories lack. Those are the things that matter the most.”

  “Agreed.” My smile became even more strained, my heart not ready to entertain these thoughts in such detail yet. As I bent to kiss Ophelia’s forehead, I felt the compulsion to leave before the topic became cumbersome. “Thank you for your time, Mistress Ophelia.”

  “Always for you, my anomaly.”

&n
bsp; We made eye contact briefly as I turned to depart. I had only made it a few paces away, though, when Ophelia interrupted, “Oh, your brother asks if you’ve seen to the issue of Flynn. What should I tell him?”

  I froze in place, suppressing the urge to sigh. While the topic of Monica’s continued amnesia twisted my stomach, the prospect of introducing her to Flynn made my skin crawl, regardless of what I had discussed with Robin. “Could you please not tell him that they have yet to meet?” I asked.

  “Only if you promise to take care of that as soon as possible.” She arched a brow at me when I pivoted enough to look at her. “He hasn’t made any of his appearances?” she asked.

  “No.” I shrugged, my response more dismissive than I had intended. “There are moments I feel him watching and pacing close to the surface, though I have wondered if he might be a bit reserved about the prospect of meeting her. I think, for once, he is minding his place and waiting.”

  “I still think this needs to happen soon.” Her lips quirked. “Don’t make me tattle on you.”

  “Soon. I promise.”

  She shooed me away with her hands, allowing me to take my leave at last. While the shadow of Flynn’s presence fell over me, it passed without incident, not even managing to coax an argument or a sharp comment from my alternate personality. I waited for a shiver to crawl up my spine before taking a deep breath and pressing onward, telling myself to handle these matters one at a time. First, we would indulge Monica’s need to socialize. Then, I would resolve whatever loose ends remained.

  Her warm smile chased away the small cloud which had eclipsed over me when I returned to her. Her enthusiasm made it impossible not to be swept away in the happiness she expressed when I told her we could accept the invitation. “Let’s go out hunting,” she offered. “Just you and me for the rest of the night, okay?”

  I chuckled. “You make it sound as if hunting is the same as taking you out on the town,” I said. “Do I owe you a proper date?”