by Trina M. Lee
The basement door was in the kitchen, where it joined with the living room. I fled downstairs, making a conscious effort to move at a normal pace. A super vampire speedy exit would make it far too obvious that I was fleeing him.
A bag of my things sat open on the floor, clothing bursting out of it. The room itself smelled faintly of my vanilla perfume. It was small with pale-grey walls. Windowless. Safe. But not home.
I dug through the bag for some clean clothes. My mind raced, slamming me with thought after anxious thought. The barrage of noise in my head grew fast and loud. Stifling a frustrated shriek, I clapped my hands over my ears and pleaded with my mind for mercy.
The mental shifts were bad, worse than any I’d ever witnessed from a vampire in my life. After the bloodlust had its way with me, when I came back to myself, it wasn’t without a price. I suffered horrible thoughts, feelings I didn’t understand, and dreams that tormented until I awoke screaming.
After several minutes of rocking back and forth on the floor with my head in my hands, the voices of confusion and mayhem faded, and I was able to move again. I was still waiting for the guilt to surface, to break me down. It was in there too, somewhere.
Kale was in the living room when I came back upstairs. He regarded me with understanding, as if he knew the battle I’d just had. Lounging on the cream-colored couch, he gave off a casual air. He’d changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. I still wasn’t used to seeing him so relaxed and dressed down.
I mustered a fake smile before disappearing into the bathroom where the sound of the shower drowned out my sobs. The hot water ran over me, diluting the blood tears as they fell.
There were no words for what I was feeling. Depressed. Melancholy. Madness. No words came close, except for perhaps lost. I was lost.
One perk of vampirism was the lack of puffy eyes after a cryfest in the shower. Once the tears had washed away, there was no evidence that they’d been there at all.
I towel dried my long, blond hair, staring at my reflection. There was a warmth to my skin, a pink hue bought with the blood of my victims. It would be alabaster fair again soon enough.
My eyes were brown. A relief. More often than not these days, they were Arys’s deep blue. Much like the echo of his voice in my memories, it was just another way that he haunted me. Staring at my nakedness in the mirror, I felt detached, like it wasn’t me that I was seeing.
Grabbing a handful of hair, I scrutinized the ash-blonde locks. It would be just too easy to grab the scissors from beneath the sink and hack it all off. It was tempting. Before I could give in to the neurotic urge to change the appearance of the person staring back at me, I turned away from the mirror and got dressed.
In black leggings and a Sons of Anarchy top, I exited the bathroom with my head up. Burying my emotions, I put on a stony mask and thought, Fake it til you make it.
I scanned the living room for a place to sit. In less than a second, I decided that sitting on the other couch would be too obvious but sitting right beside Kale would be too uncomfortable. So I sat on the opposite end of the couch he sat on, leaving a space between us. Now that the rush of the hunt had worn off, the walls had been resurrected between us once again.
“Alexa, you don’t have to hide the hell you’re going through. I wish you’d stop trying to. I’ve been there. I know. You’re not alone in this.” Kale held the remote in one hand. The TV was on, but his full attention was on me.
It was somewhat refreshing to have him be so forward. Those first few nights he’d treated me like a piece of cracked glass about to shatter. Of course, that might not be so far from accurate.
“I appreciate your concern, but we both know that I am very much alone in this.” I met his gaze, finding those brown and blue eyes as enchanting as ever. “You’re still alone in it even now, aren’t you? After all this time.”
Our connection was bittersweet. We shared so much. It was only fitting that we shared this solitary suffering too.
“It’s not always like this,” Kale lied. “You know that. Plenty of vampires are just fine after they adjust. Like Arys.”
I jumped when he said that name. It was like a physical slap that left my ears ringing. “Arys is not well adjusted. He’s a killer. He just enjoys it. It makes him look well adjusted, but it’s an illusion.”
“You enjoy it too. We all do. It’s what we are. Killers. But you’re the one in control of the circumstances. It doesn’t have to consume you. Arys knows this. He’s in control all the time, even when he’s not.” He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “Don’t you think he should be helping you right now?”
I froze, unblinking. How could he suggest such a thing? Of all things for Kale to say, that name should not be one of them.
“Are you kidding me? How can Arys help me when I can’t even stand to look at him? Are you trying to get rid of me, Kale? If I’ve overstayed my welcome—”
“There is nowhere else I want you to be right now than here with me,” he cut in, his words coming hard and fast. “I promise you that. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to be an honorable man. And you’ve got to admit that I may not be the best person to be with right now.”
The validity of his claim was sound. I couldn’t argue, nor did I want to. Kale wasn’t the bad guy here. Neither was Arys really. It was merely my own inability to function in reality, sober of any dark desires.
“If I wasn’t here with you, I’d be out there. Alone.” It was a statement of fact. I wasn’t going to argue. Kale was right. He wasn’t in a good place mentally. Perhaps he never had been.
“You and me don’t exactly bring out the best in each other, huh?” A wry grin brightened up Kale’s face.
It was hard to share his amusement. A grim nod and some sarcasm was the best I could do. “We always did make a good team.”
My hands shook, and I tried to hide them by putting my knees up and huddling in the corner of the couch. It was hard to stay grounded with so much power thrumming through me. I felt it all the time now, even when I wasn’t tapping it.
Kale watched me hide the evidence of my lack of control. “I thought you were powerful before. But now?” He shook his head. “Shit, it’s impressive. How does it feel?”
We’d discussed this before, lightly. He was always careful not to pry too much. It wasn’t easy for me to talk about when I was in a mood like this.
“It feels like I’ve been drinking espresso non-stop. Only the jitters will never stop. And I won’t ever drink coffee again.” I frowned. That was one thing I would miss very much, but vampires were beyond mortal function. There would be no coffee in my future. “How does it feel to you?”
He knew what I meant. I’d put off asking this question, certain that I already knew the answer. Still, I needed his confirmation.
So much had changed upon my death. If my link to Kale had changed too, it was best to find out now. A release from me was what he’d always wanted. If my death had somehow released him from the hold I had on him, then maybe we could move past the horrible promise he’d made me.
“You don’t know? I figured it was obvious.” Kale turned back to the TV and rubbed a hand over his face. His reluctance to face me was telling. “Nothing changed. Not even when you were dead.”
I didn’t understand. If not even my death had given him a brief reprieve, then what did that mean? “Then the only way you’ll be free of me is if…”
“If I’m the one who’s dead? Maybe. Maybe not even then.” Kale fidgeted with the remote in his hand, doing his best to look at anything except me. “Things have changed. Your heartbeat doesn’t thunder in my head anymore. And your blood no longer calls my name with the same intensity. But I feel you deeper than I ever did. And I still want you in every way.”
“Kale.” I needed to peer into him. To search him for that spark.
He turned back to me with great reluctance. I was an idiot to have hoped anything would have changed. Of course I already knew that i
t hadn’t. He had carried me away from the sun and killed at my side every night since. That was love, but it was also more than that. My hold over him was stronger than ever.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing that it wasn’t good enough but that it was all I had.
“Don’t be. I don’t want to punish you anymore for this. I’ve done enough of that.”
I laughed then. It was bitter, and the timing was wrong. The emotional shifts and mood swings were unpredictable. So I cackled like the mad woman that I was while Kale sat there looking uncertain.
Finally the well of laughter dried up. “It’s really not funny. But if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Or worse.”
The couch creaked as Kale slid across to the cushion next to me. I tensed. When he reached for my hand, I expected my heart to race. I was still surprised when it didn’t. My heart wasn’t still, but its beat was so subtle, so slow, that it was almost imperceptible. It was an illusion that a vampire’s heart didn’t beat. It did but just barely.
A rush of nervous energy still flooded me though, as it had when my pulse still pounded for Kale. Though my reaction to him was nowhere close to human, it was just as strong, if not more so.
“Alexa,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “I forgive you.”
“Kale, no. You don’t have to let me off so easy. I was unfair to you.”
My senses were vastly stronger. His hand was warm in mine, almost hot from our night of mayhem. Running my finger over the back of his hand, I was aware of every groove of the tiny lines decorating his knuckles. The smoothness of his skin gave me a sinful longing to feel his hands on my body.
“What I did to you was so much worse.” His voice grew husky. So much regret lingered in his eyes. “Can we stop punishing each other? Please.”
My voice caught as I tried to speak. Emotion choked me. Tears threatened, but I was through crying, for tonight anyway. So I fought them back and merely nodded.
On impulse, I threw my arms around him and pressed my face to his neck, inhaling the scent of his subtle cologne. “Yes,” I finally managed to say. “I never wanted this for us, Kale.”
We held tight to one another, seeking closure that even forgiveness would not bring. When it became apparent to me that closure wouldn’t be part of our twisted relationship, I sought escape instead.
I kissed Kale, and though it was not our first kiss that evening, it felt like it was. Without the rush of stolen blood and the blissful power high to warp my train of thought, the kiss wasn’t fueled by my dark side. It was all me, seeking comfort.
His lips were hesitant on mine. There was a stiffness to his posture that betrayed his unease. However, the desire that flavored his aura was real. Natural, without influence, it made me want him more.
Trying to deepen our connection, I slipped my tongue into his mouth. When he ran a hand through my hair, I pressed closer. My passion soared as his kiss grew hungry. I was ready to climb into his lap.
And then he pulled away. “I can’t do this,” he whispered. “Trust me, I want to. I just… I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“This isn’t some teen make-out session. I’m not a fragile virgin, Kale. I can make this decision.” I stared at him, wondering where this was coming from. The sexual tension between us had been thick enough to walk on, and he was refusing me now?
“I’m sorry, Alexa, but I don’t think you can.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to protest. “Hear me out. You’re new. Your emotions are on overdrive. I can’t begin to tell you how badly I want to take you right here, right now. But I’ve fucked up enough when it comes to you. And after,” he faltered, guilt taking over his face, “after what I did to you, I just can’t.”
I didn’t want to think about that. Those memories lived in a place I’d locked away inside me. “If I’ve been able to move past that, why haven’t you?”
Kale sat back against the couch. I was sad that he’d withdrawn from me. He seemed to be regressing into himself. “There is no excuse for what went on in the FPA basement that night,” he said, his voice hollow. “I will never forgive myself for that.”
I shook my head, unable to bear the self-loathing in his eyes. “They tortured you, Kale. They drove you crazy. That place gets inside your head. I know, it spoke to me too.”
“But did it make you try to harm the person you most love? I was weak. I gave in because I wanted to stop fighting, and it felt so good. I hurt you because I wanted to. Don’t make excuses for that.”
His words struck me like a stake in the chest. I already knew this of course. Hearing him say it caused a sharp pang of absolute hurt to seize my undead heart.
“Fine. But that’s over. This moment is the one we have now. So why waste it? Why not be with me the way you always wanted to? The way I always wanted to?”
Sadness enveloped me. I felt sorry for myself, and it sucked. Forcing Kale into an intimate encounter wasn’t what I wanted. So I rose from the couch and headed for the stairs.
I paused at the top. He remained where I’d left him, in the center of the couch with his head back, staring imploringly at the ceiling.
“You’re a good man, Kale. Deep down inside, you really are. Don’t doubt that.”
There was nothing else I could offer him. My forgiveness for what Kale had done wasn’t enough. He had to forgive himself.
I was right back inside the nightmare that always awaited me in slumber. Although I wasn’t sure that nightmare was the right term since it happened during the day. Either way, it was a form of dream hell, and I hated it.
The FPA building loomed large beside me. It stood against the dark sky, menacing and beastly, holding horrid secrets within its walls. The night I died lurked in my subconscious, calling me back every time I closed my eyes, and here I was again.
For the most part, everything was the same as that night. Falon came through for me again, lopping off Shya’s head with a clean swipe of his angelic sword. And then there was Arys. This time he didn’t cower away from me as he had in reality. This time he turned on me, eyes flashing with hunger and fangs bared.
I backed away, hands up. Like every other time I’d had the dream, I begged Arys to spare my life. Pleading with him not to kill me, I fell on my knees in the dry grass and begged for mercy. I changed my mind. I didn’t want to do this anymore.
Arys dragged me close, fighting to bare my neck as I struggled against him. My cries went unheard as he overpowered me. He leaned in close, and I could feel his breath on my neck seconds before the sharp touch of fangs followed.
I didn’t want to die, didn’t want to have it end this way. Desperation had me screaming and then praying. Arys was violent and vicious, hurting me as he held me restrained. Tears streamed down my face. I knew what was coming. The dream always ended the same way.
Fangs plunged through my skin to bury deep within my neck. I awoke screaming and thrashing, fighting harder when I felt hands upon me.
“Alexa, it’s ok. It’s just me.” Kale shook me, trying to get me to focus on him. “It’s just a dream.”
He gathered me against his bare chest, folding his arms around me so I couldn’t flail about. Draping me in his painfully sweet energy, Kale whispered soothing words in my ear until I quieted.
My body shook, racked with terror, and unconsciously called power that made it feel like bees buzzed beneath my skin. I clung to him, relying on the way he felt to keep me rooted in reality.
“It never feels like a dream,” I murmured, my voice cracking with emotion. Being clad in only a t-shirt and underwear made me suddenly aware that he wore only silky soft pajama pants.
“Is it always the same?” He smoothed the hair back from my face. Concern furrowed his brow.
“Yes. I’m always trying to change my mind. But he doesn’t listen. He just kills me. Violently.” I had told the dream to Kale before. I searched him for some kind of reassurance. “The dreams will stop at some point, won’t they?”
It was Kale’s turn to look
haunted. “Eventually they’ll begin to fade. They won’t feel as real. More time will pass in between them. And then they won’t come back for years. Maybe decades. But they will never leave you. Not completely.”
Shadows lurked in his gaze. Kale had shared bits and pieces of his history with Jez and me when we’d first grown close. He didn’t share much though, and I’d never had the guts to ask him the questions that came to mind. Until now.
“What are your dreams like?” I asked, whispering because the room was dark and silent, so it felt like I should.
A small shard of light from the bulb over the stairs reached the edge of the bedroom door, providing the only illumination. Even though the sun was high in the sky, we were surrounded by shadows.
Kale held me in a protective embrace. Resting against him, I angled myself so I could watch his expression as he answered. “There’s a lot of screaming in my dreams. Only some of it is my own.”
Something withered inside me at the raw pain emanating from him. It struck deep, making me wonder if being a vampire meant carrying the past forever, unable to ever move on. Upon our mortal death, were we forever held in limbo, existing but no longer moving forward?
The thought made me ill. Letting that kind of thinking overtake my mind was dangerous. “Who was she?”
Kale seemed reluctant to say her name. Torturing him with bad memories wasn’t my intent. I wanted only to connect with him. He already knew the name of the sire who tormented my dreams.
“Her name was Eva,” he said. Staring off into the darkest corner of the room, Kale went back in time. “I was sent to spy on her. It didn’t go as planned. She killed my comrades but spared me because she loved my eyes. She gave me a crash course in torture and death. I don’t miss her.”
A strange calm had fallen. I didn’t want to speak and risk ruining it. So I waited, hoping he would share more.
“Anyway,” he said abruptly, snapping back into the present. “I should go. You need to rest. It’s early still. Mid-afternoon.”
