Secrets in Blood

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “I hope these fit,” she said as she handed him the pile of clothing she’d stolen for him.

  Nic managed the boxers but lost his balance and fell to the ground trying to slide his leg into the jeans. She rushed to his side, helping him lean against her.

  “I must rest a few minutes, Evangeline. I am sorry.”

  “Let me...” Once she’d helped him on with the jeans, socks, and boots, she eyed his chest. A few drops of blood already dotted the white gauze. “Do you think you can manage a shirt?”

  “I cannot move my arms enough. I’ll tear open the wounds, and I do not have the blood to spare.”

  Evangeline worried her lip between her teeth. “I thought vampires healed quickly.”

  “I lost too much blood. Ironic, I suppose. Your father wanted to turn me mortal… or approximate such weakness. He succeeded. The last batch of serum performed beautifully for his purposes. I fear for my kind. And for my own life, if I cannot rest somewhere safe.”

  And feed. The unspoken addition to his words hung in the air between them, and Evangeline glanced down at her wrist. Not yet. “Are you ready?”

  “Si. If I can lean on you?”

  Once she’d hefted her pack, she held out her hand to help him up. Ducking her shoulder under his arm, she held onto him as they shuffled through the first few tentative steps.

  They made slow progress, tracing the path of the river. In the shallows, they hid their footsteps, and when the water reached the top of their boots, they stumbled onto the shore. Every half an hour, Evangeline let Nic rest while she doubled back to hide their tracks. He ate little, only a few dried berries or a piece of jerky, and accepted water when she offered. But soon, her supplies dwindled, and the strain of the hike—and of half-carrying an injured vampire—started to weigh on her.

  The sun rose, and as the golden rays bathed them in blinding light, Nic tried to shield his eyes. After a few steps, he turned his head into Evangeline’s shoulder.

  “I thought vampires could handle the sun? Do I need to worry about you bursting into flame?”

  Her shirt muffled his voice. “A myth. The sun will not burn me. But our eyes are more light-sensitive than yours. I have not seen daylight in years. I need time to adjust.”

  Evangeline lowered him down onto a rock, facing away from the harsh light. He shivered in the cold morning air, and she wrapped the blanket tightly around his shoulders. “Rest. I’ll go refill the canteen.”

  Steps away, Evangeline knelt by the river and dipped the canteen into the strong current. By the sun’s position, they’d been walking for more than three hours, and they still had six more miles to go. If she’d been alone, she’d have made the trek in less than ninety minutes, but with Nic so weak and leaning on her the whole way, they couldn’t manage much more than a slow shuffle.

  Returning to his side, she let him lean against her. “You should leave me,” Nic said. “I am slowing you down and putting you in danger.”

  “Probably.” Evangeline took a sip of water, letting the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. “But you’re too weak to defend yourself. You’ll be safe at the cabin.”

  “You are too kind to me, little one.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Little one? My apologies. A remnant, I suppose, from when I found you all those years ago. Such a small child, so light in my arms. But I suppose you are not so little now. You are what? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-six,” Evangeline said.

  Nic caressed her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lips. “Still little compared to me. But not a child, no. You are bellezza now. Strong and beautiful, but sad. I wonder if you will tell me one day why you are so sad.”

  “One day?” A knot of nerves tightened in Evangeline’s belly.

  “One day. Si.” Nic leaned closer, and his warm breath ghosted across her cheek. He tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, and his fingers traced the line of her jaw. A shiver ran down Evangeline’s spine. “My eyes have adjusted, bellezza. If you will help me up?”

  Evangeline drew the blanket around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

  Cold. So very cold. He couldn’t stop shivering. With Evangeline’s lovely neck so close, he had to concentrate on every step, lest he lose control. He hadn’t confessed everything to the strong, caring woman who now shouldered more than half his body weight.

  Before Longo had pumped him full of serum and tried to bleed him dry, Nic hadn’t eaten in three days. Food or blood. Now, he feared he had only hours left.

  “Just over that rise,” Evangeline said quietly. “Are you still with me?”

  He nodded, too tired to speak. Several inches of snow crunched under his every step. The gentle hill she led him up felt like a mountain. Against the backdrop of the thick trees, a dark, weathered cabin loomed. Roughly milled logs formed thick walls under a moss-covered roof.

  Long shadows danced in the whipping winds. Evangeline pulled Nic up onto a decrepit porch. “I have to get the key.”

  By the time she unlocked the door, he could barely see. A vague hint of her scent lingered in the dusty space, as if she’d spent time here recently. When he raised his head, he stared at an old clawfoot tub with no memory of the rest of the cabin. She lowered him to the floor, where he leaned against the tub and tried not to pass out.

  Evangeline said something, her sweet voice calming his erratic heartbeat, but he couldn’t understand her words. When she cupped his cheeks and urged his head up, he met her gaze. “Get undressed and into the tub.”

  Nic fumbled for the laces on his boots, tugging them off with a grunt. Lying on the thin blue rug, he unzipped his jeans and slid them off his hips. But as he rolled onto his side, then pushed himself up to his knees, the room spun around him.

  “Evangeline,” he whispered. The dark specter of death hovered in the corner of the room. Had he come so far only to die now?

  “The water heater takes time to warm up. I set two more pots to boil, but they’ll be a few minutes.” Evangeline set a steaming bucket down next to him, the lantern in her other hand casting a glow over her pale skin. “Oh shit,” she said as she knelt next to him. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  In her arms, he found a measure of strength. Her delicate fingers skated over his waist and eased the boxers off his hips.

  “Let’s get you warm.”

  Naked and shivering, a dull roar filling his ears, he let her help him into the tub. Evangeline dipped a cloth into the bucket of hot water and cleansed the blood and dirt from his face and neck. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “Tell…you?” Nic shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Evangeline knelt next to the tub, strips of bloody gauze in her hands.

  “You’re not healing.”

  He hadn’t realized she’d cut the bandages from his body. Nic grimaced at the still-open wounds across his chest. “I am. Very slowly.”

  “You lied to me.” She dabbed the cloth around the wounds, and despite the harshness of her tone, her gentle touch soothed him.

  Nic stared at his feet. “I did not.”

  “You need blood to heal.”

  Despite the coolness of his skin, his cheeks flushed, and he pulled away from her comforting hand.

  “Si. Without blood, I will continue to weaken.”

  Evangeline held her wrist under his nose, and he breathed in her sweet scent. The gentle throbbing of her vein and the thump of her heart shattered his control, and he couldn’t stop his fangs from lengthening. But he turned his head away. “No.”

  “Men. Stupid and stubborn. All of them. Even one hundreds of years old. You need to heal, I can help.”

  “Why would you risk this? I could try to control you.”

  “You could, yes. But you won’t. If you wanted to do that, you would have bitten me when I was eight and too little to fight back. Or while I slept last night. You didn’t.”

  Nic chanced a quick look at his rescuer. Fire churned in her brown
eyes, and she arched a brow, daring him to challenge her. “Feed.”

  How could this beautiful human trust him so completely? Longo’s teachings should have long ago turned her against him, but Evangeline carried such pure light inside her, she’d seen the truth.

  Nic took her hand, turning her wrist slightly so he could brush his lips against her skin. She shivered at the touch, and a sweet scent wafted over him. Fear, si. But underneath, something sweeter. Arousal.

  Evangeline’s heartbeat quickened under his lips. As gently as possible, he pressed his fangs to the delicate skin, and she gasped before his saliva dulled the pain. Her blood trickled over his tongue, hot and rich, and he took a small sip, then another, and finally a deep pull. He flicked his dark eyes to hers, asking for permission.

  “It’s okay,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Nic took more, his hunger overwhelming his rational mind. Stop. He had to stop. Had to protect her.

  Evangeline shuddered, bringing Nic back to reality. He laved his tongue over the wounds, healing them, and then slipped his arm around her back to hold her close, cursing the metal wall of the tub between them. She laid her head against his shoulder, ragged, stuttering breaths wheezing from her lungs.

  The lump in Nic’s throat made speech difficult. He’d taken too much. “Evangeline? Talk to me.”

  “Dizzy. Need…a minute.”

  Merda. He’d hurt her.

  The wounds closed as his body assimilated Evangeline’s blood. He’d never tasted anything like her. And he’d sampled his share of blood in the hundreds of years that he’d been alive.

  When he’d been turned—back in Italy—he’d been a surgeon. Life had been so easy back then. Wait until the patient was unconscious, take a sip or two, close their wounds, and go on with the surgery. He would pierce his wrist, giving the humans a drop or two of his blood to help them heal. For thirty years he’d not lost a single patient on his tables. But then, the townspeople became suspicious of the handsome doctor who never seemed to age, and he’d fled.

  In each town he’d start anew—only staying for ten years at a time. He’d worked his way across the continent: France, Spain, and Portugal—learning languages, helping the sick, taking what he needed every few days. Not until he joined the Conclave in the nineteenth century had he given up his surgical practice. After he’d lost Livia, he’d vowed to never allow himself to get close to another human again. They died, while he lived, almost forever young and vital.

  But now, with Evangeline’s blood reviving him, total trust and acceptance in her eyes, fear seized him. He had to protect her. Hold her. His cock hardened. He wanted to do more than that. He ached to kiss her again.

  Raising his knee to hide his erection, he stroked her soft brown hair and rubbed her back as her body calmed from the shock of his feeding.

  “Evangeline, you should drink some water,” he said quietly. “Lie down. I can manage now.”

  She raised her head, her bright, shining eyes and pale cheeks worrying him. “I’m okay. I need to do this. Please, let me try to fix what my father did to you.”

  “That is not your burden.”

  “Don’t make me leave,” she whispered.

  Dio. He couldn’t send her away if his life depended on it. Sliding his fingers into her hair, he urged her closer. Gently, he brushed his lips to hers. “Stay with me.”

  She tipped her face up, tears shining in her eyes. “I felt…like I was floating.”

  “A vampire’s bite…can be pleasurable. In many ways.”

  Evangeline broke the connection between them, dipping the rag into the hot water once more. “Oh my God.”

  “Che cosa?”

  “Your wounds. They’re…gone.”

  Thick, red scars welled on his chest. Silver always left scars, but already he had the strength to stand, to fight, and…to do other things.

  “You should have asked for my blood earlier,” she said as she pushed to her feet.

  Nic reached for her hand as she picked up the bucket. “I do not like that I broke my promise to you.”

  “You needed to heal. Lie back. I’ll get more hot water.”

  She tended to him, cleaning the blood from his chest and back, and helped him wash his hair since his arms were still stiff. When she poured the last bucket of warm water over him, he sighed happily.

  “Hot water is a luxury I will never take for granted again,” he said as he stood and wrapped his body in a towel. Evangeline backed away, suddenly wary, and Nic tried to reach for her hand.

  “Bellezza, what is wrong?”

  “Get some sleep,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’ll take the couch.” Before he could stop her, she hurried from the room.

  Nic wanted to go after her, but exhaustion weighed him down, despite the strength now coursing through his body. He managed to tug on his boxers and rubbed the towel over his hair before trudging into the bedroom.

  The sight of the double bed illuminated in the lantern’s faint light stopped him in his tracks. Blankets. Pillows. Eighteen years without a real bed—without any real comfort or safety—and now he could sleep. He fell onto the mattress, and though the springs had seen better days, he knew this would be the best sleep he’d ever have, and Evangeline and her sweet scent would be nearby in the morning.

  He’d just about dozed off when she joined him with a steaming mug of tea and an extra blanket. Nic couldn’t help his yearning and reached for her in the semi-darkness.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice a low purr. “Please.”

  “You aren’t going to compel me, are you?” Evangeline recoiled, and Nic could hear her heart thudding in her chest.

  “Incantesimo,” he said as he sat up.

  “What?”

  “Where I am from, we call it un incantesimo. A spell. Though there is no magic involved. And no. I suspect I would fail even if I did want to.”

  “Henry…was right?”

  Nic ran a hand through his damp hair, exhausted but feeling physically stronger than he had in years. “There is something special about your blood, cara. I think you are too strong for any vampire to compel. But I do not wish to use un incantesimo. I want you to come here of your own accord.”

  Whatever thread connected them pulled taut. Slowly, she approached, and when she slid a hip onto the bed, he took her hand in his. Raking his thumb over her wrist, he tugged gently. A pale slash of light from the lantern illuminated her dark eyes, and she leaned closer, her breath catching in her chest.

  With his free hand, he cupped the back of her neck, pulling her against him. The delicious perfume of her skin filled his nose, and her heartbeat thrummed in time with his. His lids lowered as he brushed his firm lips to hers.

  Gently, easily, he lifted her, guiding her until she straddled him. His erection pressed against her and his tongue boldly took possession of her mouth. Nothing mattered but the feel of her skin, the smell of her arousal, and her strong, throbbing heartbeat. The loose cargo pants she wore were painfully and terribly in the way. As was her shirt when his hand cupped her breast. Her small sound of pleasure escaped under his lips.

  Nic shifted her down onto her back, caressing her cheek, trailing his hand down her shoulder, skimming her waist. His teeth scraped her jaw, light and so very possessive. He winced as he tried to bear himself over her, the wounds healed but still tender. Damn his injuries.

  The moment shattered, and Evangeline scrambled out from under him. “I can’t. I’m…sorry.”

  As she closed the door firmly behind her, Nic cursed and slid back under the blankets. His cock throbbed, and his heart pounded. He’d lived for more than eight hundred years. In all that time, he’d never found a woman as intriguing, as vibrant, as irresistible as Evangeline.

  He had long ago vowed never to love another human. But with Evangeline, his resolve slipped. More than her blood, he admired her strength, could not get enough of her essence, and ached to understand the sadness that lingered in her eyes.

  �
��Evangeline,” he whispered to the darkness, “I do not know how I can resist you.”

  14

  The cabin’s boiler system kicked in after she’d dumped her second heavy pot of steaming water into the tub. Carrying the sloshing buckets from the next room had taxed her more than she’d expected, but she’d just…donated…a fair amount of her blood.

  Once the tub filled, she stripped and sank into the steaming water, fighting back tears of exhaustion. Oh, who was she kidding? Her emotions were waging a war inside her—over Nic. The kiss…God, the kiss had sent all of her reservations flying out the window and desire flooding her core, but the strain of running, of not knowing when or if they’d ever be safe, stopped her from giving in and acting on her instincts.

  In the past twenty-four hours, she’d stabbed her father, drugged the woman who had practically raised her, watched as Nic shot one of her father’s men, and left the only life she’d ever known. All for a vampire she’d met as a child. And then she’d kissed him. Twice. Or…was it three times now? Hell, she’d done more than that. She’d been ready to tear her clothes off and fuck him blind. Toying with his coin, sliding it along the chain, she wondered where she’d gone wrong in her life—or had she finally chosen the right path?

  Her head started to pound, nausea following on the headache’s heels, and she fixed her gaze on the faucet, trying to stop the room from spinning around her.

  How stupid. No food, blood loss, a hot bath, and dehydration made for a bad combination. She tried to get to her knees, but slipped underneath the water with a soft yelp, choking at the unexpected deluge down her throat.

  Help! Her hair floated above her in slow motion as she scrambled for purchase, arms flailing, lungs screaming as her body fought to inhale again—still underwater. Not like this…please…

  Strong arms hauled her up, and she landed over something hard and warm, the impact—along with Nic’s hand slamming down on her back—sending a torrent of water gushing from her lungs. She coughed and gasped for breath, hearing the roar of her heartbeat in her ears.