“You’re getting old, Mellis.” She sighed and walked into her bedroom. Maybe her career wasn’t going to be as long as she thought. Even Antonina noticed her sluggishness. Every dancer’s body lasted different lengths of time, the old woman had told her in class.
With her coke habit, she had knocked a few years off. At the rate she had been snorting, there was no way that it couldn’t have affected her. She frowned, rolled down her leotard and examined her upper body in the mirror. A reflection never lied. Everything appeared fine. Her slim shoulders possessed the perfect amount of muscle and her back was still strong. The muscles between her shoulder blades rippled when she turned in the mirror.
The mysterious fatigue also left her moody. She had snapped at Todd, who proceeded to tell her that she was leaving the interesting category and heading over to the bitch category.
She stuck her tongue out at her reflection and sighed.
“You’re earlier than usual tonight,” a voice said from behind her.
The voice sent an icy blast down her spine. She remained motionless. At first, she didn’t turn around because no one was reflected in the mirror. The room was empty. However, after a few seconds, her awareness increased. She could feel whoever it was as if they were leaning against her. Her eyes darted around the room’s reflection before she turned.
Eamon was standing an arm’s length from her.
“I’m surprised that you’re home so early.”
She gulped down her scream before she turned to the mirror and then back to him. Lauryl touched his arm to confirm that he was not a hallucination. She pinched the sleeve of his suit jacket and rolled the wool fabric between her fingers. Without a doubt, he was standing there. There was no way she could imagine that smug look on his face. How could he not have a reflection? She stepped to the side, hoping she was blocking it.
“I don’t have a reflection, Lauryl. I haven’t had one for quite some time now.”
The overwhelming dryness in her throat kept her silent for a moment. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed to say.
“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested and pointed to her bed. She remained frozen, though, staring at the mirror. “Forget the mirror.”
“Wh… what are you?” she stammered.
Eamon put his hands in his pockets and smiled. “I’m a vampire.”
A what? Was that supposed to be some sort of joke? Nervous laughter bubbled out of her. He walked up next to her and placed his hand on the glass. The only reflection was hers.
“O-o-kay,” she said. “Any time now I’m either going to wake up or whatever and things are going to be normal. I mean…there’s no way this—”
Eamon cut her off by lifting her hand and placing it on his chest. “I’m real, Lauryl. This is real. It’s not a dream or a hallucination.”
Lauryl’s knees buckled under her and Eamon caught her by the arm. “There aren’t vampires in real life.”
Eamon raised his eyebrows. “Tell me how I can prove it to you.” His grip tightened painfully on her arm before he let her go.
“I don’t know! I’m so scared that I can’t think!” Tears dropped down her cheeks as she rubbed the red finger marks on her arm.
He offered his handkerchief but she refused it. Instead she wiped her tears with the back of her hand like a child. “My theatrical entrance was the wrong approach. I haven’t done that in a long time and I had no idea it would frighten you so.” Eamon stepped closer to her and she took a step away. He chuckled. “Lauryl, I’ve wanted you for quite some time now.”
Lauryl’s eyes widened. “For what?”
“For me.” He smiled and the tips of his sharp incisors were revealed.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. Her hands clamped over her neck.
“That won’t help. I’ve taken your blood before. Tonight, I’ll complete the transformation.”
“Are you freaking kidding?”
“Do you want to grow old? You dread the possibility of it.” He turned her back toward the mirror. “See how beautiful you are? You’ll stay like this forever.”
Lauryl stared at her reflection. Her face was splotchy from crying and her hair hung over one of her eyes. Why did he think this was beautiful? Her chest rose and fell like a piston with each shallow breath she took and her heart pounded. When Eamon laced his arms around her waist, her breathing regulated and her heart slowed to a thump of curiosity, instead of fear. Now accustomed to his absent reflection, the sensation of his presence, both physical and emotional soothed her. She rested her hands on his and leaned into him. As her back melted into his chest, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the queer sense of safety she now enjoyed.
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
She tilted her head back and his lips brushed against her neck. Her eyes popped open. “No!”
“Why are you fighting me?” His mouth hovered just above her neck. Tiny beads of perspiration appeared on her skin.
“Why do you want me? You hardly even know me.” She pulled away from him.
Eamon stared down at her. His eyes followed the graceful line from the small of her back, to her shoulders, and finally to her neck. “Lauryl.” He waited a few seconds before he reached for her again. He placed his hands on her shoulders and with the slightest pressure, they relaxed. “Let me make your life better.”
The warm, almost palpable sound of his voice caused her to crane her neck to him. It erased any fears or doubts or resistance. “Better?”
“Life doesn’t have to be hard. No more living day-to-day, worrying about who’s going to bring up your past. No more dealing with people you can’t stand for their phoniness or superior attitude. You’ll be above all that.”
She turned around to him. What he said sounded perfect but she knew that it came at a cost. She also knew that she could. She didn’t know exactly what that cost was, but she suspected that it would be high. But even that didn’t make her say no. She didn’t want to say no. Everything he said was what she wanted and that attraction to him was back. Defeat poured over her as she looked up at him. Her hand balled up into a fist and she gave his chest a feeble smack. That was the only resistance she could show to what he offered. Eamon didn’t move. He just waited.
“I don’t want to say yes but I can’t say no,” she managed to say.
“Shh.” He brushed the hair from her neck and kissed her cheek.
More tears slid down her face but the sadness vanished when he kissed her neck. The touch of his lips quelled any rising anxiety. His hands on her low back were strong as they held her. A sigh arrested in her chest as the sudden and brief pain of his teeth piercing her skin rocketed through her body. She cried out and grabbed his shoulder to steady herself.
“No!” she whispered.
Eamon covered her mouth with his finger.
As much as she meant no, her body said yes. Instead of trying to get away from him, she molded her body to his. She continued to push her thin body against his, grabbing at the nape of his neck. Her hands dropped down to her sides as a tingling and buzzing crept up her arms. The sharp pain she experienced at first was long gone and she only felt the slight pressure of his mouth on her neck. Between her rapid breaths, she could hear the muffled swallowing sounds from Eamon as he drained her blood. For an eternity, she felt like she belonged to him.
Soon though, those feelings vanished and her consciousness drifted further and further away. A roar like ocean waves grew louder in her ears. The room spun and blurred around her but the wonderful sense of vertigo disappeared. She tried to focus on Eamon so she could beg him to make the morphine-like sensations of her dying body continue. Lauryl tried to reach up to his face, but her hand fell away.
Eamon yanked his sleeve up and bit into his inner wrist where his radial artery now hummed with her blood. Blood oozed rhythmically out of the bite. He shoved his wrist against her mouth. “Drink right now, darling.”
Her eyes rolled back in her hea
d but she managed to close her lips around the perfusing wound. After the first swallow, she placed her hand on his arm as the blood continued to pour into her mouth. It was unlike anything she had ever known. It was serenity, power, sex, and life all swirled together in one fluid. Her mind swirled as the blood flowed through her body. The solid, grounded feeling she had always known disappeared and lighter-than-air feeling replaced it. Her mind told her she was floating as she drank. Then he removed his wrist from her lips.
Eamon touched the back of her head and smoothed her auburn hair. Enough, he whispered in her mind. Lauryl stared at him, puzzled over why he was taking the magical feeling away. Her brain filled with static and she stumbled over her thoughts.
His brown eyes locked with hers. “You’re now part of me. My blood flows in your veins and you’ll feel me just as I’ll feel you. You’ll hear me just as I’ll hear you. We’re connected forever.” Eamon kissed her lips gently.
The serious expression on his face puzzled Lauryl even further. She thought he said something but couldn’t be certain. Her eyes followed his sensuous lips as they moved but she didn’t hear anything. All she could think about was the magical liquid she had been gulping. It was so…she couldn’t even begin to describe it with words. Now even that couldn’t help her fight the overwhelming sleepiness that washed over her. Exhaustion and achiness crept around her body and a chill passed over her. Lauryl blinked a few more times and closed her eyes.
* * *
Eamon embraced her and licked the last drops of her blood from the rapidly healing bite on her neck. Her frame slumped in his arms as she became unconscious. Her body would now begin to multiply his blood cells in her veins and she would stay in the near death state while her body made the excruciating transformation from mortal human to vampire. He stared down at her limp body and laughed. She’d been so frightened that she never rolled up her leotard.
CHAPTER NINE
You Can Just Suck It, Eamon!
“Lauryl, open your eyes,” Eamon said. “It might hurt when you take a breath, but don’t panic.”
Lauryl’s chest ached as the cool air inflated her lungs and stretched her muscles. She turned her head to the sound of Eamon’s voice and searched his face. All of her muscles protested as she moved them. She opened her mouth to speak, but even that proved to be too much right now. Eamon gathered her up and held her against him. His embrace calmed her and told her she was safe. She believed she was part of him and, for a moment, she believed that he was the only thing in the world that mattered. He kissed the top of her head, and all of the vertigo and aches stopped.
“How do you feel?”
The words took a few seconds to decode in her foggy mind. “Where am I?” Her gaze wandered around the unfamiliar surroundings. The abstract shapes formed together into more concrete images and she realized she wasn’t in her bed or her room. She had no idea who the room belonged to. “What happened?” she asked with an edge of fear in her voice. The events of last night slowly came back to her. Her hands trembled as she reached up to her neck. She looked up at him. “No, it didn’t really happen.”
“Yes, it really did.”
She tried to shrug away from him, but the sudden movement brought waves of nausea crashing over her. Lauryl clutched at him and placed her head against his chest again. The slow, faint sound of his heartbeat soothed her for the moment. Tears welled up in her eyes and stung them. He smoothed her hair a few times and kissed the top of her head again.
“It’s not that bad,” Eamon whispered.
“What?” She pulled away from him and waves of nausea and dizziness rocked her. He reached for her but she jerked the bed sheet over her. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me!”
“I want you to trust me.” He reached for one of her hands, which she had bound up in the sheet.
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped. “How can you expect me to trust you?” With a final tug, she pulled the sheet up to her chin.
Eamon stared at the floor and tapped his foot a couple of times before standing up. “You need to get up. We have some things to talk about and I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Lauryl stopped rubbing her temples. Whatever that meant didn’t sound good. “Hungry? What do you mean?”
“All of those unpleasant sensations you are feeling right now: the nausea, the dizziness, and that nagging little headache. That’s what I mean by hungry. In a little while, I’ll show you how to stop those.”
“No, tell me now!”
He opened the door and turned back to her. “No, wait and see.”
* * *
Lauryl walked downstairs and glanced down the hall. She had no idea where Eamon was. She checked the living room, the only other room she knew in his house, but he wasn’t there. Frustration nipped at her. Lauryl walked back out into the hall.
“I have no idea where you are so how about giving me a hint,” she said in a modified yell.
Eamon poked his head out of a door. “I’m in here and you don’t need to raise your voice.”
She watched him go back in and flipped him off. She stalked in to Eamon’s study and took a quick look around. One wall was a large window that overlooked the beach. Along another wall, a large book shelf filled with books reached up to the ceiling. She sat down in front of his large antique desk and sighed. He sat there as if nothing unusual had happened last night. Like he was the normal one and the rest of the world was odd. She kicked the leg of his desk.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He stood up and walked around to the front of his desk. “You need to feed.”
“On what?” she demanded, already knowing what he was going to say.
Eamon propped up against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “I think you know what.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Oh really? What are you going to do?”
Her grip on the chair arms tightened. “I’m not doing that.”
“Can’t you say it?” he taunted. “Can’t you say take someone’s blood?”
“I’ll starve first. God, you’re a dick.”
“Will you? Do you have any idea of what you’re saying? Right now you only have a headache and a few other minor complaints but as your body demands blood, your condition will worsen.”
“I’ve been through worse.”
“What you felt for drugs is nothing compared to hungering for blood.”
“Maybe I’ll die.”
Eamon shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Get out.”
She walked to the door, turned, and stared at him defiantly. Her lips trembled as she struggled for something to say. Eamon held up his hand to cut off any argument.
“I hope you’ll remember all of this bravado when you’re so hungry that you offer me anything to help you. With your history and lack of discipline, I give you—” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe two hours. Three at the most.”
She stormed out and he trailed after her into the living room. Lauryl spun around and almost collided with his chest. “You think I don’t hate you? You have no idea of how much I hate you! What kind of monster does this to someone? Who picks a recovering addict for something like this? Who just kills, kidnaps and forces them into a life like this? Oh yes, you do! I thought you were a rich weirdo or something but this is beyond that! You’re a selfish, twisted fucker!” Her lips pursed in frustration when she couldn’t come up with anything more to say.
“Lauryl I’m willing to grant you a certain amount of latitude in your behavior as you transition into your new life,” he said through clenched teeth. “But you’ll clean up your white trash, gutter mouth and behave!”
Her lips trembled and she searched for a retort.
Eamon pushed her forward and she stumbled into a chair. “Now, it would be a good idea if you just stayed away from me until you come to your senses.”
“Or what?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know,” he said, without turning around.
For some reason, she believed him. The restrained anger that buzzed in the air was tangible. It prickled against her skin and raised the little, red hairs on her arms. It lingered even after she heard his study door slam closed. She rubbed her arms and scanned the living room. It still looked like it should be in a magazine. The room seemed staged. That made sense. He was a fake. He left out a huge part of his biography. He never lied to her. He skipped over the important things. That was a lie of omission and her grandmother always said, a lie is a lie is a lie.
She picked up a magazine, House Beautiful, and flipped through it. She flipped through it again but didn’t stop on any particular page. Her attention span was shrinking with each passing second. She leafed through the magazine again but couldn’t focus.
This is insane, she thought.
She could do this. She tried to reach back to all of the things she learned in rehab and in Anthony’s office. Anthony. Lauryl frowned and panicked inside. Would she ever see him again? What would she tell him? How could she explain something like this to him? Would she end up…Her mind trailed off and she clenched the magazine until the pages wrinkled.
Her head throbbed and her tongue scuttled over the roof of her mouth. It felt carpeted with cotton. She closed her eyes and wished that she could cry. Right now, she was so thirsty she would drink her own tears. None came though. She dropped her head between her knees in an effort to ease the pounding in her head but the sound of the clock chiming in the hallway stabbed at her.
“Pace,” she said. The strain in her voice caused her to jump. It sounded foreign to her. She walked around the room and settled into a track in front of the French doors to the terrace. At first, she walked with careful and deliberate steps, trying to focus and keep her thoughts organized but her steps quickened as time passed. She twisted her auburn hair around her fingers and yanked them to deflect the hunger pangs that assailed her.
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 6
