Meet Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #2)

by Lisa Olsen

  “Is that an energy shot?”

  I looked up to find Evan, the TA, glancing up at me from across the room as he filed away the transparencies used in class. “Yes, something like that,” I replied, tucking away the vial before he could get a good look at it. An undergrad student, I’d seen him plenty of times around campus, but never really talked to him before. Medium height, medium build, brown hair and eyes, nothing about him screamed as particularly memorable until he spoke and the lilt of a Scottish brogue accented his voice. That and when he picked up the violin. Then he became equal parts James McAvoy and Paganini to a music geek like me. I’d known Leona to purposefully lose handouts in class just for the excuse to go talk to him.

  “Which ones do you fancy? I’ve been buying the off brand ones myself since I go through them like candy.”

  “I… it’s an off brand too,” I replied after a moment’s hesitation. “Actually a friend of mine gets them for me, I’m not sure where. But they don’t work as well as they used to.”

  “Isn’t that always the way?” he grinned, leaving off the filing to come and perch against the edge of the teacher’s desk. “It’s amazing what the human body has a tolerance for. Coffee doesn’t do a thing for me anymore. I think if you opened my veins you’d find espresso flowing there.”

  My mouth watered, and I closed my eyes against the whimper of longing that visual produced in my mind. Frak, if I didn’t get out of there I’d end up lunging for his throat! Lurching to my feet, I caught hold of the back of the chair as I moved too fast and lost my balance.

  “Are you alright?” Quick as anything he rushed to my side, worry etching his features.

  “Just clumsy during the day,” I murmured and he dipped lower to catch my eyes, a half smile tilting his lips.

  “But not at night?”

  “I’m a little tired, and I forgot to eat this morning, that’s all.” Not a lie…

  “Do you want to have a go at my pop tarts? They’re chocolate fudge.”

  I tamped down the urge to look at him, knowing I was a hair’s breadth away from compelling him into letting me have a go at him instead. “No, thank you though.”

  “Are you sure? How’s if we split them?” Evan let go of me and I breathed a sigh of relief as he took his tempting veins with him to root around in the bottom of his messenger bag. “I shouldn’t have this much sugar in the morning anyway, even if it is fortified with… ow, bugger…”

  The scent of blood filled my senses, and to this day I have no idea how I crossed the room. I was just suddenly there, next to him as he brought his finger up to his lips, a bright drop of blood gathering at the tip.

  I didn’t think about how it might look or what he must be thinking, my hand shot out to bring his finger to my mouth instead. My eyes slid shut as the taste of his blood burst across my tongue and I sucked gently, craving more. Just a little more, I told myself, and I’d let him go.

  “I… I think it’s fine, it’s…” I heard him stammer, and my eyes popped open to find his eyes on my mouth, an expression of half objection and half fascination on his face. Holding his gaze, my mouth pulled at the small wound again, freeing another tiny droplet as my tongue rasped against the pad of his finger. Evan swallowed, but made no move to pull away until my sharp teeth pricked two more holes into his skin.

  “Ah… that stings, maybe I should…” he made a half hearted objection, and I let him pull his finger away. It wasn’t what I wanted anyway. Half drunk on the small taste, I knew I couldn’t walk away. I wanted… no, I needed more. “I guess I cut myself worse than I thought,” he frowned at the new wounds on his finger and I closed my hand over his, drawing his attention back to me as I easily caught hold of his will with my own.

  “Shhh,” I whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Feeling his hesitant response, I took control of the kiss, deepening it until I could feel the desire thrumming in his veins. Only then did I drag my lips across his skin to the throb of his pulse, what I really wanted.

  I’d like to say I was overcome with bloodlust. That the sight of the blood on his finger sent me into a feeding frenzy, but that wouldn’t be the truth. Even at the taste of his blood I didn’t lose control. Maybe it would have been easier if I had. But down to the last second, when my fangs scraped over the lovely cords of his neck that beckoned to me so sweetly, I knew I could pull away if I really wanted to. I could push myself out into the sun and it was bound to have a dampening effect on my hunger.

  Instead my fangs plunged into his neck like the ripest, sweetest fruit and I moaned against his skin at the keen perfection of it. I wasn’t aware of when I’d walked him back against the wall, but it sure came in handy as I drank and drank, my body pressed against his. Unlike my failure with Stan, Evan clearly enjoyed what I did to him, his hands roaming freely over my body as I poured all of my longing, everything I remembered of that feeding lesson in the alley with Bishop into it. In my mind’s eye I didn’t even see Evan there; it was Bishop’s skin I caressed, Bishop’s blood I tasted, Bishop’s touch I enjoyed.

  But it was Evan’s blood that poured out, and Evan’s heart that began to slow. With great effort, I wrenched my mouth away from his throat, eyes drawn to the blood that pooled at the tiny wounds. My tongue lapped at them, and I watched in fascination as two more spots of blood immediately welled up to replace them. In that moment I knew I could spend hours at such a pursuit, but he’d never last that long. It was easy enough to prick my finger with my fangs and brush my own blood over the wounds which healed before my very eyes like the most expensive digital effects. Another quick swipe of the tongue and there was no sign I’d ever bitten him at all.

  Feeling pretty good about my ability to successfully feed without killing (not to mention my hunger being satisfied in a way bagged blood could never manage), I smiled up at Evan, whose head remained lolled to one side. “You won’t remember me biting you at all,” I ordered, gratified to see him nod weakly. To my dismay, he went completely slack, sliding to the ground in a stupor. “Evan? Evan, can you hear me?” With a moan, his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out. In a panic, I pressed my ear to his chest and was rewarded by the steady beat of his heart, but slow… much too slow.

  “Geez Louise, I’ve done it again,” I breathed, staring down at him in horror. I couldn’t let him die, not another one. I could give him my blood, but then what if he died? Then I’d be in trouble with the Order for making an unlicensed vampire and we’d both be killed. His breathing became uneven as if his body needed to remind itself to draw air in and out again, and I called the one person who might be able to help me.

  The phone rang four times and I started to wonder if he’d take my call or not, but whether it was a burning curiosity as to why I’d be calling him in the middle of the day or because he actually wanted to talk to me, Bishop answered before it went to voicemail.

  “H’lo?” He sounded raspy any tired, as if I’d woken him. I probably had. Most sensible vampires would have sought their beds hours ago.

  “Bishop, thank God, I need your help!”

  “What’s wrong now?” I heard the scowl in his voice and my anxiety level immediately shot up another notch.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t mean to do it, I thought I stopped in time, but I took too much and he’s so still and, I need your help.” I was babbling, but knowing it and stopping it were two different things. “Please, Bishop, I don’t know what to do. Should I give him some of my blood?”

  “No,” Bishop gave a long drawn out sigh. “No, don’t do that. You know what’ll happen if he turns.”

  “I know, but what else can I do? I can’t let this happen again, I won’t. Can’t you please help me fix this?” I knew it was a lot to ask, but what else could I do?

  “Alright, I’ll take care of it, where are you?”

  Something in the way he said it struck me as off, and I hesitate
d. “When you say you’ll take care of it, do you mean get rid of him?” Bishop’s silence spoke volumes and I realized my mistake. Of course he wouldn’t care about keeping Evan alive, all he cared about was cleaning up my mess. “Forget I called, I’ll fix it myself.”

  “Anja, don’t do anything stupid. You know what I’ll have to do if he…”

  I hung up, not wanting to hear him say the words. Regardless of the consequences, if I didn’t do something soon, Evan might die. My blood could save him. And besides, if he died anyway, I could always kill him again, I didn’t have to wait for him to turn into a vampire. That way at least I had a chance at saving him.

  With a hiss of pain, I tore into my own wrist with my teeth, bringing it to his lips. “Drink, Evan. It’ll make you feel better,” I ordered, but he was too far gone to respond much. At least he swallowed reflexively instead of coughing it up, but my body healed the wounds at my wrist without him actively pulling at the wound. Three times I bit myself again and fed him small mouthfuls of my blood. His overall color improved, and his heart rate steadied encouragingly, but I could tell he still needed medical attention. Besides, I had to get him out of there before Bishop decided to take matters into his own hands and track me down. I already knew he could find me by my phone, I had to act quickly.

  Only what would I tell the ambulance, that I found him slumped on the ground? Unless they understood he’d lost a lot of blood they might not be able to give him the help he needed. I had to MacGyver some kind of injury to explain the need for medical attention. Suddenly I knew what I had to do, even though it made my heart sick to think about it.

  “I’m so sorry,” I breathed, easily picking Evan up and cracking his head on the corner of the teacher’s desk. Immediately blood began to flow, and I staunched it as best I could with my scarf, fighting the urge to lunge for the wound. Breathing carefully through my mouth to avoid the delectable scent of his blood, I called for an ambulance, not having to do much to feign the panic as I reported his injuries.

  I could have left him there. The ambulance was on the way, and whether he lived or died was out of my hands for the moment. Instead I pulled his head into my lap, cradling him as close as I dared, singing him a soft, soothing lullaby in case they were his last minutes on Earth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The ride to the hospital was a big fat blur. The paramedics accepted my story of an accidental fall easily enough, and thankfully let me ride along with him to the hospital. Not too many questions were asked once they realized I didn’t know his personal statistics. That same issue kept me from getting very far into the hospital once we arrived, though. I couldn’t claim to be a close family member or friend since I had no idea what his birthday, address or allergies were. Still, I couldn’t leave Evan there. If only to make sure he survived, I chose to stick close.

  If Bishop went to the school I never knew it. All I know is he didn’t track me down at the hospital. I didn’t hear from him again to tell him whether I’d handled it on my own or not. Too upset to go home, I paced in the waiting room, hoping for a scrap of news that would reveal Evan’s fate. After the umpteenth time of asking, I found out Evan was considered to be in stable condition, but no visitors were allowed.

  I felt a crushing weight settle over my chest, like an elephant decided to have a sit right over my heart. A little alarmed, I wondered at first why it wasn’t the opposite, shouldn’t I feel better knowing he’d survive? Then I noticed the time. I’d never stayed up so late in the day before. I knew I’d never make it all the way home without passing out, so I slipped out of the waiting room, intent on finding a quiet, dark corner to hole up in until dark.

  Only I couldn’t sleep.

  Whether from the extra stims or the nerves or aftermath of the situation, I didn’t find that sweet oblivion when I slumped to the ground on the floor of a rarely used supply closet. Instead I replayed the scene in my head again and again. My cold decision to risk Evan’s life to satisfy my own needs. The way I’d so effectively taken him down without a fight. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t human anymore. A human being couldn’t casually put their own hunger over a man’s life. I’d become a stone cold predator, and only by some miracle had Evan survived it in spite of me.

  Despite my empty promises never to feed on another living person again, a tiny prick of blood and my resolve crumbled into nothingness. What was I going to do? Practically a ticking time bomb, it was only a matter of time before I lost control again, and then who would pay the consequences? Bridget? Hanna? My skin crawled with self loathing as I beat myself up over what I’d become.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  I didn’t deserve the peace and restoration. That and I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin between the nerves and misery.

  I had to get out of there.

  But not before I checked up on Evan for myself, to see if he was truly alright. It was easy enough to find his room. As long as you looked like you knew where you were going, no one looked twice at another person on the busy hospital floor during the middle of the day.

  I didn’t know enough about medicine to know if Evan was still unconscious because of the damage I’d caused him or if he was sedated, but he looked peaceful enough lying there. The IV strapped to his arm made me feel more queasy than hungry, thank goodness, and I avoided looking at the bag of plasma attached to the other end. Picking up his hand, I was gratified to feel the steady beat of his heart, much stronger than it had been in the classroom.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, holding his hand for I don’t know how long. Eventually a nurse came along to check his vitals and chased me out. I could have compelled her to let me stay, but in the end, I figured maybe he didn’t want me there anyway. After all, who was I to him but some student who’d put him in the hospital?

  I’m honest enough with myself to know it was a toss up who I felt sorrier for, Evan or myself. As I left the room, all I could think about was how I could end up in really hot water if he woke up and told the world I attacked him. I thought about sticking around the hospital to make sure my compulsion kept his memory as foggy as it needed to be and had just about decided to find a chair and drag it over outside his room when I spotted Detective Lucas watching me from down the hall.

  Just what I needed.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” he approached with a smile. That smile that made me wonder if he actually knew something or was just trying to get something out of me.

  “Are you following me, Detective?” I already knew that wasn’t true, or he’d have already arrested me for attacking Evan.

  “Who me? No, of course not,” he waved off my accusation. “I probably spend more time in hospitals than I do at home. All sorts of interesting people hang out in hospitals. You never know what you might find. How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “I’m not really thirsty.” Or in any mood to be interrogated by him when my brain felt like fried Spam.

  “Well I am.” His smile never dimmed. “Come on, the coffee here’s gotta be better than the stuff they pass off as coffee back at the precinct. Or would you rather go talk down there?” The threat came across loud and clear despite the genial invitation, and I gave him a weak smile, following him to the cafeteria on the floor below. I let him buy me a cup of coffee I had no intention of drinking, waiting for him to make the next move. Obviously he had something he wanted to talk to me about, and I wasn’t about to start volunteering any information.

  “How’s your friend doing? Is he gonna make it?” Lucas asked once we’d found a table away from the windows.

  “He’s not really my friend, I barely know him. He’s the teacher’s aide in one of my classes, but ah, I think he’s going to pull through.”

  “Lucky for him you just happened along or he might have died, huh?”

  I looked for any subtext in his statement, but I couldn’t get a read on him. “I um, it was just one of those things. I needed a few minutes to get my notes together after class, and I
happened to see him fall and hit his head. So…” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it was lucky though.

  “I stopped by the classroom before I came to the hospital. You know the funny thing is, not a lot of blood on the scene for how much he lost. Not funny ha-ha, but definitely funny strange, don’t you think?”

  “Yes… that’s weird,” I mumbled, wondering where he was going with it. A sneaking suspicion gnawed at me… did he have some idea what really happened in that classroom, or did he think I was a violent psycho attacking the student body?

  “Your life has been going through some pretty radical changes lately.”

  “What do you mean?” I blinked at the change in subject and he shrugged, propping his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands as he studied me intently.

  “People you’ve been associating with, hanging out at The Bleeding Hart.”

  Was he following me? “Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked and he leaned forward.

  “That’s just what I was about to ask you.”

  “I don’t have anything to say.” Not about Evan’s attack, and definitely not anything about the crowd at the Hart.

  Detective Lucas slapped a grainy picture on the table that looked like it had been taken from a store surveillance camera.

  A picture of Bishop.

  “What can you tell me about this guy?” he tapped the photo.

  “I need to get going,” I mumbled, pushing my chair back from the table and he rose to block my way to the exit.

  “Whoa, relax, it’s just a question. Are you afraid of him?”

  “No, of course not!” I gasped. “He’d never hurt me.”

  “Then you do know him,” his grin widened.

  Frak! “I really do need to get going. Goodbye, Detective.”

  “Hey, believe it or not I’m trying to help you, Anja,” he spread his hands.