Vampire Bites: A Vampire Romance Anthology

by Lori Devoti

  She convinced herself that if she could get Jascha on the mend again by having this talk with Tynan, then she could get on with her work and forget about him again. Not that she had ever forgotten. He had always been at the back of her mind. The trouble was, now he was at the front of her mind and she couldn’t concentrate. She had to find a way to put him to the back of it again and this seemed like the most reasonable solution.

  “They’re feeding him old blood,” she said, barely holding Tynan’s gaze for a split second, but it was long enough to see in his dark eyes that he already knew and he didn’t like it.

  She paced across to the other side of the room. Tynan leaned against a table and folded his arms across his chest, making it clear to her that he was waiting to see why she had wanted a word with him.

  “Why didn’t you get him fresh blood?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before stepping up to him, a frown darkening her face. “You should have gone out to hunt regardless of the orders from Timur. You know as well as I that the lord of our bloodline is not thinking clearly. This vampire hunter has made him weak with fear.”

  “I did,” Tynan said.

  The sound of his voice made her think of Jascha, lying in his death bed with no company and no comfort. She bit back the tears and reminded herself of her duty and her position.

  Tynan stepped past her, running his fingers over his short black hair and sighing heavily. “I hunted for the first two nights, but Timur threatened me... if I disobeyed his orders again, I would be tried.”

  “Tried?” Marise frowned, trying to understand just what was happening in her house.

  “For sins against my bloodline.”

  “Ridiculous. The Law Keepers would never condemn you for trying to help your brother.” She turned on the spot, following his progress around the room.

  Her senses told her that he was agitated, angry, and she had witnessed how he could be when enraged. Timur had been treading a very fine line with him.

  “Were you with Jascha that night?” she said.

  He paused, eyes fixed on the floor, shoulders tense.

  “No.”

  “Did Jascha say anything when they brought him in?” She took a step towards him, torn between giving up her questioning and continuing. She didn’t want to cause him hurt by reminding him of his brother’s plight, but he might be able to give her the answers she needed to make a decision about this case.

  “No, nothing coherent.” He hesitated a moment and looked at her. She knew that look. It was about what had happened between her and Jascha. He was scared of bringing up things from the past. “He mentioned your name.”

  She froze, feeling as though he had just hit her in the stomach and knocked the wind from her. She hadn’t expected that, but then, when she had gone into the room, Jascha had known it was her and he had called her by her old nickname. He had thought about her all these years too. It wasn’t a ridiculous idea in the slightest. He had been the one willing to reconcile after all.

  “Nothing else?” she said, regaining her focus and pushing away from the dark, sharp thoughts trying to creep in at the corners of her mind. She didn’t want to remember that night. She didn’t want to remember how painful it had been and how it had felt to leave him.

  “Nothing.”

  Marise stared at him, hating how much he looked like his brother. It brought images of Jascha back, lying in that bed, covered in cuts and blood. Stinking like death.

  Turning her back on Tynan, she straightened her cuffs and lightly ran her fingers over the marks on her wrist. He had been so gentle with her, even in his dire state. She had expected him to be rough if anything, greedy with hunger, but he had taken barely a sip. It spoke volumes to her, pages about how he didn’t want to hurt her. In a way, it had felt like an apology. She wished she could accept it.

  “I have to call this in.” She went to leave but stopped herself and looked at Tynan again. “Jascha needs fresh, strong blood. Hunt for your brother.”

  She was about to turn around again when he spoke.

  “Did you find out anything from him?” His voice trembled the tiniest amount and his eyes showed her that he wasn’t just worried about his brother—he was worried about her too.

  It had felt horrible to see Jascha like that. It still felt horrible. She couldn’t erase the sight of him from her mind and couldn’t imagine how Tynan had felt on seeing him beaten and broken. It must have been worse for him than the night Jascha had been turned and killed, reborn into his world.

  She shook her head and gave him an apologetic look, wishing she could bring herself to shrug off the restraints of her position and comfort him.

  “He was in too much pain,” she said and then smiled. “He’s speaking Russian at me. The boy still hasn’t learned that I don’t speak the language.”

  Tynan smiled but she could see the sadness in it.

  “Be careful tonight, Tynan. Whoever did this is still out there.”

  Leaving him, she walked along the corridor and up the stairs to the ground floor of the expansive mansion. She tried to gather all the evidence in her head and thought about what she was going to tell the others. She couldn’t leave here without finding out more about this vampire hunter.

  She couldn’t leave until she knew Jascha was well again.

  Chapter Three

  Sitting in a small reception room, Marise stared at the telephone and waited for her nerves to settle before she made the call. The room was lit by a single lamp on the desk beside her, throwing long shadows across the room. She stretched out in the worn armchair and told herself that whoever answered the phone wouldn’t be able to tell something was wrong with her from what she was going to say. It was a perfectly acceptable course of action in a situation like this. She had a duty as a Law Keeper, but she had a duty as a leading member of her bloodline too.

  She picked up the receiver and dialled the number of her headquarters. It seemed to ring for forever and she mused that if she still had a heartbeat, it would be rocketing right now.

  “Hello,” a man said.

  She swallowed and told herself not to hesitate. She had to be straightforward and sound as though she was in command or he would suspect something was wrong.

  “It’s Marise,” she said, cool and collected.

  “Marise, are you home?” he said and she recognised him as Vincent, the Caelestis Law Keeper.

  A part of her was thankful that it was him. He would be easier to fool than the Aurorea or Validus Law Keeper.

  “I’m here and have made contact with my lord. It appears we are not dealing with a vampire attack. It is something far worse. Two elite guards were killed and a third was beaten to the point of death and now lies dying, unable to recuperate from such extensive injuries.” She paused and swallowed the tight lump in her throat. She had to continue sounding as calm as she had done so far. If she raised suspicion, he could tell her to return and not continue on the case. “Timur was injured, and is now forcing his bloodline to remain indoors.”

  “What was responsible for the attack?”

  She smiled, glad that he sounded concerned. Her chances of remaining here were increasing.

  “Not a what, but a who. It seems to be a message from a human, a vampire hunter.”

  He laughed. “No vampire hunter could do this to four of our kind.”

  “I assure you they did. I have seen the guard that was left to die. He has confirmed that it was a vampire hunter. I fear that someone has been playing god, but need more time to get the evidence required.” She paused and shifted the phone across to her other ear. “Vincent, I am going to remain here and find this hunter. I will judge for myself whether they are human and if they have been enhanced somehow. We must assess whether they are a threat to us and, if they are, inform the bloodlines.”

  “We have our hands full here,” he said and her heart sank as she thought he was going to ask her to come home and assist them. “Investigate, and if you believe this hunter is a threa
t to our species, kill it.”

  She nodded, relief filling her. “I will.”

  “Report back when you have determined what we are up against.”

  The phone clicked and went dead. She placed the receiver back into the cradle and leaned back into the chair, sighing out her breath and relaxing. What had her comrades so busy? She raised her eyes to the ceiling. Tynan would have returned from his hunt by now. Jascha would finally be getting the blood he needed in order to heal and become strong again. It would only be a few days before she was heading back to headquarters. Could she keep it together that long and resist the temptation Jascha presented? She still needed to see him again and finish her questioning.

  But more than that, she needed to make sure he was all right.

  * * * *

  Marise looked both ways along the empty corridor and then went still. She reached out with her senses, trying to detect whether anyone was awake yet. It was early afternoon, still hours before the sun would set. There were a scattering of guards around the house, but none of them had paid her much attention.

  Satisfied that she was alone, she stared at the dark wood door in front of her. She wrapped her fingers carefully around the brass handle and then turned it slowly and eased the door open. Her stomach flipped and she ignored it, pretending it never happened. She slid into the room and glanced out into the corridor before closing the door and flicking the lock.

  The last thing she needed was someone walking in on her.

  She turned, extended her senses to Jascha, and smiled to herself when she found he was asleep. She walked over to him and studied his face. He looked healthier today, less pale and more like she remembered him. Picking up the bowl of dirty water from the bedside table, she carried it into the bathroom and emptied it into the sink. She refilled it and grabbed a fresh cloth from the side before going back to the bed.

  He hadn’t stirred. Hopefully he would be exhausted from trying to heal himself and would sleep throughout what she was going to do. She feared him finding out more than she feared anyone else in the house. She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. This couldn’t be about feelings. It was just something she had to do, a whispered urge that had kept her awake all day, begging her to go to him. She put it down to wanting to question him again. If he was on the road to recovery, she could get her answers and get the hell away from her family home.

  Sitting beside Jascha, she pulled the covers back to his waist, not daring to go any further in case he was naked. Her stomach turned at the extent of his injuries. The pale light filtering in around the edges of the curtains made everything clearer than the lamp had last night.

  Marise dipped the cloth into the fresh cool water and squeezed it out. Careful not to rouse him, she set about cleaning his wounds, dabbing lightly to lift the bloodstains so she could get a better look. There was a lot of bruising across his stomach, the flat plane of it marred with dark spots, some of which surrounded long gashes. She frowned and gently stroked along the length of them, revealing how red raw around the edges they still were.

  Her eyes flickered to his chest and filled with tears when she saw the burn mark there, the pattern and shape of the cross clearly defined against his skin. The only place it hadn’t burned him was where his shoulder dipped in towards his chest. Hadn’t Timur had the courage to stop this from happening? She could see from the wounds that whoever had attacked Jascha had managed to strip off his jacket. What kind of struggle had there been? How violent was this hunter and how strong?

  She blinked away her tears and ignored the tight ache in her throat. Whoever did this to him would pay dearly. She would make sure of it. No one did something as horrific as this to Jascha and lived to tell the tale.

  Giving herself a moment to get her emotions back under control, Marise stared at the cross burn on his chest. Every intricate mark, each swirl and arch, was defined on his skin. She resisted her desire to touch it and cleaned the cloth instead. The water was already turning pink.

  She squeezed the cloth out again and when she turned back to continue her work, Jascha was watching her with eyes full of confusion and disbelief.

  She wrapped the cloth up in both hands and felt like she had done all those years ago when they had first met—hesitant and shy.

  “If you remain quiet, I’ll stay,” she whispered and waited to see if he would play by her rules.

  He said nothing, merely stared at her with violet eyes so intense that she had to avert hers to her hands. She uncurled her fists and silently cleaned the wounds on his arms, never once looking at his face.

  When she was done, she stood and thought for a moment he would say something. He didn’t. She could feel him watching her, and knew that just as she could sense his emotions, he would be able to sense hers. They had never mated but they had been close enough for long enough that a sort of bond had developed. It was quite common for lovers to develop this sense and she had always loved it in the past, but now it frightened her. She didn’t want Jascha to know how muddled being back here with him was making her feel. She didn’t want him to know that she still cared for him.

  Removing her jacket, she placed it on a nearby chair and then moved back to him. She knelt on the bed and took hold of his hand. A spark of electricity ran through her when he shifted his fingers against hers, and she cursed him for it and for the warm feeling that settled in her chest and refused to leave.

  She leaned over and licked each cut on his hand, gradually working her way up his arm until she had sealed each one. She moved around the bed and did the same with his other arm, feeling him watching her all the while. His feelings were intense and she couldn’t stop herself from latching onto him, monitoring the minute changes in them. If she was reading him right, he was definitely glad to see her and relieved too. He felt content, almost happy, but she knew he couldn’t possibly be feeling that way really. The pain he was in was probably affecting his mind, making him believe he was happy. He was probably delirious.

  At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  Marise hesitated a moment before beginning to clean the cuts on his stomach. The voice at the back of her mind kept whispering words about how nice it was to touch a man again, to touch him again. Her lips buzzed with the feel of his skin and the memories of things they had done, countless nights spent locked in each other’s embrace. She closed her eyes and savoured the tang of his blood, breathing in his scent and allowing herself a momentary slip in restraint. It did feel good to touch him again, to feel his soft skin against her lips, and taste him.

  When she reached his chest, she looked at the burn mark. It would be too painful for him if she licked it to seal the wound. She concentrated on sealing the cuts on the other side of his chest instead. Her stomach flipped and jigged when his hand brushed her hip and she had to remind herself that she wasn’t a youngling anymore and he shouldn’t be affecting her like this.

  But she hadn’t been a youngling back then either, and he had still made her feel as giddy as a teenager in love for the first time.

  Sealing the final cut on his shoulder, she left the bed without looking at him and walked around it. He shifted, sitting up, and a glance at him revealed that he hadn’t bothered to move the blanket with him. Clearly he was feeling a little better and he was definitely happy to see her. She dragged her eyes away from his erection and motioned for him to cover it. She could almost see the smirk he would be wearing as he obeyed her silent instruction. He had issued a challenge, showing her without words that he still wanted her. The ball was in her court now. She wanted to puncture it and throw it back, but the part of her that was thrilled about this affirmation of his feelings overpowered her common sense.

  So instead of leaving as her better judgement told her to, she sat back down beside him and looked right into his eyes. He wasn’t smiling as she had expected him to be. He was watching her with silent ardour.

  She leaned forwards and carefully removed the bandage from around his throat. He
winced a few times and she tensed in unison with each one but continued regardless. This had to be done or he would never heal properly. Blood wasn’t enough. Their family should have known that.

  Picking up the cloth, she rinsed it out in the water and then dunked it back in again. She squeezed out the excess and then brought the rag to his neck. He hissed, breathing in sharply through clenched teeth when she applied the first tentative stroke and she glanced an apology at him.

  Her eyes widened a little when he clenched his fists and his whole body tautened. It was still a delicious sight. Dragging her eyes away, she steeled herself against her desire and focused on cleaning his neck wound. It turned her insides to look at it. The deep laceration ran around the side of his throat to his Adam’s apple. It was red, seeping and open. Anger coiled in her chest. Her family should’ve known they would need to sew this in order for it to heal.

  When it was clean, Marise lightly ran her fingers along either side of it and frowned. She didn’t hide her concern when she looked at him this time. She let him see it. He needed to know that she was doing this for his own good so he was prepared for what came next. He was sensible and a soldier. He would know that she needed to sew it closed.

  Giving him a moment to recover, she bunched the thin covers up until they were a strip across his hips and set about cleaning his legs. There were only a few cuts on them, but it would give him enough time to ready himself. He sighed and she looked up at him. The sight of him leaning back against the headboard with his eyes closed, muscles tensed, made her pause at her work. She took in how beautiful he still was and realised that she hadn’t cleaned the wounds on his face. She wouldn’t dare seal those for him. The temptation to kiss him would be too great.

  She averted her eyes again when his opened. He would be able to sense when she was staring at him. She had to start being more careful.

  An image flashed across her mind and she scowled at the bed, hating the reminder of what he had done all those years ago. Why? She held in the tears and knelt back on the bed. Her hands shook so she clenched them into fists and kept them by her sides. Why had he done that to her? He had loved her, she knew that, and she had loved him with all her heart. But had he loved her with all of his?