by Jackie Ivie
If this was the life of the undead, it wasn’t living up to all the hype. It was boring. Lonely. There wasn’t anyone to talk to that understood. Nobody. Jolie had always been a clock watcher. If this was her eternity, watching the clock and waiting for time to pass, she’d just as soon be really dead. She sighed, and pitched a slipper across the polished floor where it slid until it collided with the first one, sending that one right under the drapes.
“Score!”
The slight jubilation felt flat. Unexciting. Dull. Thoran had been conspicuously absent all day. Through her exploration of this palazzo, all four floors of it since the lowest one was submerged and closed off; through the long, drawn-out affair that was sup…including a steak she’d sent back four times before accepting one so bloody raw, the maid serving her had shuddered. Still His Grace was absent. Sentencing her to this. He had no right to turn her into this, and when she saw him…
“You’re na’ turned yet, love.”
Without a hint of warning Thoran was there, standing in the arched nave shadowing the door, taking her breath and her senses and making it difficult to find words. He was attired in his usual Highland kilt thing and looked perfectly at home in all this Baroque elegance. Jolie cleared her throat.
“Then why is everything so…weird?”
“You’ve been given a taste. Should you wish, that will be all. You’ll hover like this. A-tween two worlds.”
“That sounds pleasant.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost. He smirked slightly.
“’Tis said to be the best of both.”
“An eternity of this? Oh…please.”
“Half-turned is na’ immortal. It lasts at most…a century. Fades slowly with time. Most hunters are in this state. It makes them extremely dangerous.”
“Why me, Thoran? Huh? You could’ve had any woman. You’ve had centuries to pick one, and yet, no. Not you. You have to pick me. Why?”
He shrugged, moving all that muscle under that plaid kilt, ruffled shirt, black jacket. Reminding her fully of everything under there. Jolie had to look aside or her tongue wasn’t going to work at all. She gazed at the shaded window to his left.
“I was told you might come into my world. I prepared for it. Wondered over it. Pleaded for it. And then it happened. You’re here. I doona’ ken why, but I doona’ fight it. I embrace it.”
“Just stop right there.”
He didn’t obey like Lee Chen had. Thoran was at the bedside, right in front of her, moving his glance for the slightest bit to the mass of mattress behind her. And then back to her.
“We’re talking here, Thoran. Right now. You and me. You’re not touching me until we have an understanding. You ken?” She used the Scot term as if it was normal.
He folded his arms, looked down at her for eons of time, and finally nodded. Jolie licked at her lips, catching his glance to the motion. It made him tremble before he stilled, narrowed his eyes, and then shuttered any sign of emotion.
“I’ll start. What…do you want of me? Exactly.”
“You’re my mate. I need you. I’ve na’ had a woman in nigh four hundred years. Until last night. And now given a taste, I want more. Legions more. Endless amounts more.”
“You want sex? Is that it?”
He set his jaw and glared at her, sending glints of silver through slit lashes. “I doona’ speak lightly of last eve. It was an amazement I’ve never known, or if I did I’d forgotten.”
“You should’ve just stopped at the ‘never known’ part.”
His lips tipped into a slight smile. “The love act that you call sex is na’ what I want, A Chroi . I want so much more. I want you. I need you. With me. At my side. Forever.”
“Forever?”
He sighed hugely, moving all that mass, and damn her, if her eyes didn’t widen just a bit at the view.
“I was told of you. If I was truly lucky and the fates charitable, I was told you’d come. My mate. My other half. So I prepared. For centuries I’ve stocked all my homes with clothing of the highest fashion of the period. Just for you.”
“Well…that explains this ridiculous dress.” Jolie picked up one of the top layers of ruffle on her skirt. The ruffles sat just below the waist that pinched and made it hard to breathe because she wasn’t wearing the whalebone corset with it. She absolutely refused.
“You look beautiful,” he replied.
“I’m not even wearing those pontoon things that are needed to hold this skirt out on both sides. I’ve never seen such a waste of material. When did you purchase this closet-full? During the Revolutionary War?”
“Late eighteenth century, I believe.”
“Exactly. And it looks it.”
“But it does fit you, does na’ it? Perfectly?”
Score one for the vampire . Jolie shut her lips together, stretching them over what felt like out-sized canines.
“It won’t work, Thoran. I don’t believe in vampires. And I have a step-family. I call them sometimes. On my cell phone. They call me, too. And—and…I like the daylight. I don’t like blood…at least I never used to. And I’m really not fond of murdering for my meals.”
“There’s ways around all of that. You can feed from me. Exactly as you did last night…all night.”
Jolie shivered. It wasn’t from the thought of blood. It was the memory of last night and the reaction he was raising in her skin from just being near. It wasn’t fair! She swallowed in order to make her voice work. “Well then…you have to factor in that we just met. I don’t even know you. We could have incompatibility issues. Monetary troubles.”
“Monetary?”
“I like to shop.”
“I have enough for spendthrift notions,” he replied.
“But can you make the malls stay open all night?”
“I’ll buy them. Whatever you want, I’ll gain it for you. I love you, Lass! Does that mean naught?”
Jolie tipped her head. “There’s no such thing as love at first sight.”
“Just as there’s no such thing as vampires?” He asked.
Score two for MacKettryck . Jolie lowered her chin slightly in order to look up at him through her lashes.
“Real compatibility takes years to develop. I’ve seen the ads. Searched the sites. Real love takes time.”
“We’ll have time. Trust me.”
“I don’t know…Thoran. I really feel for you. I do. I’m all tossed up inside. I don’t like the feeling. And I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Sounds like what I suffer. But unlike you, I doona’ fight it.”
“I mean…I have a family. I may be an orphan, but I have an aunt. Two uncles. What will they say about this?”
“They’ll mourn, Chroi . And then they’ll get through the grief of your death. As all mortals do.”
“I have to die, too? This just keeps getting better and better.”
He tipped a look at her, branding through her skin and right to her heart. She didn’t realize that stupid vacillating muscle could twist like it was. It still didn’t mean a thing. Love didn’t exist except in literary stories. It couldn’t exist…and surely not with an undead thing.
“I’ll arrange a plane crash. Quick.”
“They all know I hate flying.”
He blinked. “Motor car accident, then. You pick the vehicle. I’ll have it set up.”
“I can’t believe I’m considering this. I can’t.”
“I love you. And you love me. ’Tis fated.”
“Why can’t I just visit them occasionally? Pop in from my worldly travels?”
“Ah.” He put a finger up. “You dinna’ deny it.”
“What?”
“Loving me.”
“Come on, Thoran. Give me a break. I’m trying to talk here, and you keep muddying the water.”
“Jolie. Lass. I love you. I need you. I’ve waited for you. I doona’ wish to wait another moment. You do love me…doona’ you?”
There it was again. He just wouldn’t let it go. What she’d been
fighting and worrying over and ignoring. And it wasn’t even a fact.
“You’ve frightened me, man-handled me, forced me to wear horrid clothing, imprisoned me.”
“I do na’ sound a good catch with such attributes.”
“Actually, you’re perfect. Everything I dreamt about in a man, if I’d known what to dream of…if you were, you know, normal.”
“I canna’ change what I am. All I can do is promise to love you, for eternity and beyond. I promise. It will na’ be so different. And I’ll be there to show you the way.”
“What if I don’t want to be shown?”
“It’s na’ an easy thing to learn this by yourself, Chroi . Trust this.”
“I haven’t decided, Thoran. I have to think. With all the time you’ve had, surely you can grant me a little of it?”
“What can I say? What should I do?”
“Move away from me and give me breathing space. While I can still breathe with live lungs and think with a living brain. That would be a good start.”
He stiffened. “Did last night mean…naught to you?”
The catch in his voice stung, pained, and then started a ripple effect right to her eyes, blurring him with tear wash.
“It was…amazing, Thoran. Truly.”
His smile was blinding. As was the slightest sheen of moisture atop his eyes. “I could have turned you last night. You ken?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted you to have the choice.”
“What will you do if I exercise it now…and say no?”
He tensed and stood taller somehow, pulling his head back slightly as if to withstand a blow. Jolie’s heart palpitated at the sight, before assuming a staccato rhythm.
“Is that your choice?”
His voice dropped to a whisper and he looked aside, blinking rapidly. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was fighting tears. But that was ridiculous. Undead things couldn’t possibly feel, could they?
Of course not, Jolie. They’re dead .
“Would you let me go?” she asked.
“I doona’ ken.”
“Then why ask it? Why not just force me?”
“Because I love you! And that changes everything!”
“You really…love me?”
His chest was moving with a force that matched hers. “Of course I do! ’Tis the last thing I expected and the worst thing imaginable. ’Tis also the best.”
“Thoran…I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ve my word I’ll do naught to hurt you. Ever. If you doona’ want me, I’d abide your wish. But I canna’ say I’d succeed.” His voice broke and lowered to a deep throb of sound. “You’d need something to stay me from you. A crucifix about your neck perhaps. Worn without ceasing until mortality takes you. You’d need it at all times to hold me away. You doona’ ken how it is. Knowing you’re in the world and yet unable to have you would be worse than this living death. And then watching you age and die? When I could stay it? Lass, you doona’ ken how it would be. I’d be cursed to eternity without you. It would be more than I can imagine. Worse than it has been already.”
There was silence after he finished. It pulsated in waves she could sense enough to see. He’d moved back from her to the edge of the drapery, pushed it aside until he reached heavy glazed glass, and then he just stood there, sideways to her. He didn’t look to be breathing.
Stupid Jolie. He’s dead. He doesn’t need to breathe .
Her heart hurt. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. If this was love, it wasn’t nice. And it certainly wasn’t the bliss those Medieval poets promised.
“When were you turned, Thoran?” It wasn’t loud, but he heard it.
“The year was 1615. April 12th. At dusk.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer at first. His fists were in knots at his side and every bit of him looked taut and prepared. He was riveting, stunning, wholly fascinating, and made every bit of every cell yearn for him. He started talking, giving the words to the window, without inflection. While the shaded sunlight put perfect features in profile for her.
“I was in battle. ’Twas a senseless one, but they all are. We fought a rival clan over a bit of reaving. I was fain crazed, using my claymore in one hand, an ax in the other. I was na’ losing. I took every enemy. I was invincible. Deadly. Hollering each victory as the man fell. And then I took a head blow. I recall seeing the field beneath my nose before I met it…and then I knew naught. When I woke, I was angry. Enraged.”
“Who turned you?”
“Angus Campbell.”
“Why?”
“He was feeding and went too far.”
“What is too far?”
“Draining the blood until the heart stops.”
“That’s it? That’s all it takes?”
Thoran shook his head. “Nae. Vampire blood has to be received as well. It must be taken during the death throes. Exactly then.”
“So…you drank his blood. Right?”
Thoran slit a glance to her. “I woke a-fore he finished. I dinna’ ken what was happening. I already told you of my anger. I dinna’ go easily. I fought.”
“You fought…a vampire?”
“Aye. I fought. But at the first slice of my dirk and the first taste of fluid…I was lost. I craved what only he could give. I went insane with it. Mad. Raving. And after changing me he laughed! The entire time I raged at him, cleaving and killing him…and re-killing him, he laughed. Taunting me. Tormenting. Until I gave up trying to exact revenge. And then he left me. Alone. To fend for myself.”
“You seem to have done very well.”
He was still looking out the window. “Mortals see what they want to see.”
“Yes,” Jolie answered softly. “We do.”
“Is that my answer?” He was shuddering. It came through his voice.
“I’m sorry, Thoran.”
“No!”
He was on his knees, his arms about his head with an elbow crooked over each ear, howling grief-stricken throes of agony into being, making her eyes water so severely, she couldn’t find the floor. Stupid man. Then he pulled the claymore from the sheath at his back and started stabbing it into the wooden floor in front of him. Each stab accompanied a cry, until the entire chamber echoed with them, making the structure feel alive with grief.
“No! No! No! No!”
“Thoran!”
At her voice the sword stopped, with the shaft half-buried in expensive polished wood. Then he bowed forward over it, holding to the hilt with both hands and putting the shattering sound of dry sobs into existence.
“Thoran, stop this! Before you hurt yourself.”
Now that’s really stupid, Jolie.
Jolie launched through the space separating them, wrapped her arms about what she could reach of his back and held on, shuddering with each bit of emotion until they started subsiding; little by little, along with every bit of noise in the room. Then the complete silence got teased by singing and voices penetrating the shaded windows.
“I lied.” His voice was a deadly quiet tone that sent fear everywhere.
“You…lied?”
“Aye.”
“How?” She’d been mistaken. It was absolute terror that made her one word question squeak.
“I canna’ do it, Jolie. I canna’ let you go. I refuse.”
“Well…the least you could do is wait for my answer before going all berserk-o on me. I mean, honestly. Look at this floor.”
He stopped. Curved his head to look over his shoulder at where she was perched, her arms wrapped about him. There was no denying the moisture spiking his lashes, making them blacker. And more. There was pure emotion fueling him; wary molten silver-hued emotion. It reached out to her from bottomless eyes before he blinked, changing it.
“What…did you just say?”
She sighed heavily. “We’re really going to have to work on our communication skills, Thoran Alexander MacKettryck, the fifth. Or seventh. Or what
ever.”
“We are?”
“Just because I say I’m sorry over the way that Clan Campbell bastard turned you, is no reason for you to think it’s my answer! Geez. Where are your wits?”
“You’re na’…turning me down?”
Jolie slid around to the front of him, gaining a spot atop his lap with the sword at her back and her front full of Thoran.
“I don’t think I can live without you, Thoran Alexander MacKettryck. And that means I’m willing. Because…I love you. It’s not a good feeling but seeing you hurt caused me pain. So there! I’ve said it. I love you! All four hundred-ish years and two hundred fifty some-odd pounds of you. You hear me?”
She was yelling it so it shouldn’t be optional, but she wanted to make sure he heard it.
“You really love me?”
God, he was adorable. And he was all hers. And all the manuals did spout how no love was perfect.
“Yes! I do. I didn’t know how much until just this moment, but if I have to live without you, I don’t call it living. And if I have to live like I’m dead, I might as well be dead. Is that enough answer? Holy crap! How did we get here?”
They were atop the bed, losing clothing and gaining volumes of harsh breathing that accompanied shaking fingers as he unfastened every little pearl button on her expensive and ancient dress. And then it was done. The mountain of satin was shoved aside, it order to settle full Highland male between her legs.
