Beating Hearts

by Lucretia Stanhope

  Beating

  Hearts

  A Romantic Horror Story

  Lucretia Stanhope

  Beating Hearts

  Copyright © 2017 by Lucretia Stanhope

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2017

  ISBN 978-1541054424

  Acknowledgements

  As with all magical creatures, (well maybe not all, but many, a lot, more than a few, probably enough to make it a norm) I have a wonderful power of three that keeps me strong. My editors, beta readers and those who make it possible for me to put one word behind the other, commas in the right places, if there is such a beast as a properly placed comma (this is a bigger issue than you might imagine) and to have the faith in myself needed to create from the soul. They also add infinite joy to my life, and chocolate, they give chocolate. So, in alphabetical order, because, seriously, as much as I love these three people, they would wonder why their names were in any other order. That’s why we can’t just do nice things. Andrew, Jamie, and Toneye, thank you from the bottom of my sparkly soul.

  Chapter One

  “H

  ow did it happen? Your changing I mean.” Kate watched Nick for a reaction.

  The question she wanted to ask, “What do you know about the human slave trade?” went unasked as not to sacrifice the shaky foundation of the working relationship they established over the last few days.

  Nick closed his eyes and shifted in his seat. He tried not to stare at the high cheekbones that drew his attention to her full lips. When he agreed to allow Kate to interview him, he expected that type of question. He even thought about his response, though he really didn't want to think about it again. “It wasn't pretty. It's not going to be nice to tell...” He paused and shifted again. “I suppose we should get this part over with, so we can move on to your deeper questions.”

  Light brown hair fell in soft curls around his mesmerizing face. His visible discomfort worried her as her eyes lingered on him, stunned by how much he looked like a man. He wore a red, plaid, button-up shirt, tucked into a pair of snug-fitting jeans, with the sleeves rolled up enough to reveal muscled forearms.

  When the story of real vampires first broke, she saw a fair few of them, none ugly, but she never saw one that looked so much like a man. They usually had pale skin and angelic, sharp features. His bronzed skin and the hard, masculine lines of his face could easily pass as human. He didn't look like a monster to her, he was handsome.

  His dark brown eyes seemed to glisten, which caught her attention and made her realize her look lingered to the point it became a stare. She glanced down at her notes.

  He started telling her his story. “I hadn't noticed anything different that day, or the days prior. I checked my traps that morning, and was late getting to them that night, because I was feeling ill and had slept some after dinner.

  “It was a cool night, so I bundled myself up and rode out. Sick or not, you had to check traps at the end of the day, otherwise whatever you caught would get taken by predators. I always started at the furthest, and that night was no different.

  “Thinking back, when I stopped, my horse did act skittish. Made a few noises he didn't usually make. The trap had a beaver, so I walked over and started to pry it open.”

  He paused and opened his eyes to search her face for signs of readiness to hear what came next.

  Her heartbeat remained steady, still tempting, but she put off no fear.

  He continued. “The horse took off so fast there was no way I would have been able to catch him. I looked around thinking it might have been wolves or a bear even that spooked him. I thought briefly that I had my gun, but it was gone with the horse. I didn't see anything, so I just carried on with the task at hand. It was going to be a long walk home and there were still more traps to check.

  “I had the beaver free and was starting to stand up when I saw it. It wasn't like what you might expect. Not like me, not like the vampires you have seen in your city. It looked less human and more creature. Like something that had evolved just to kill.

  “It moved into the light and I was frozen, compelled just to look at it. Thinking back now, I imagine that is why vampires have the ability to entrance. Anyone would have instantly run, or attacked it, but probably run. It had long, spindly arms and legs, and it moved in an awkward jerking way, walking on all fours, probably for balance.

  “It wasn't graceful, wasn't fast, it looked like it was fighting just to move through the air. The skin was pale, beyond pale, it was albino, and it looked leathery. I still couldn't take my eyes off it. I knew I needed to run, but my legs didn't move.

  “As it ambled over, it kept eye contact. It had solid black eyes that were too small for its large head. The head was so misshapen with a large, round top that came to a point at the chin. The mouth drew my attention, it was too big for the chin and filled with sharp teeth. There was saliva dripping off the teeth.”

  Nick paused again and drew in a deep breath. He looked over at Kate. Her eyes seemed larger, but she watched him intently. While her heartrate continued to maintain a steady rate, it grew a touch faster, and he noticed her hands trembled. “Did you need a break?” he asked.

  “I wouldn't want to draw this out for you.” She gave him a nervous smile. “We can break in a bit.”

  He found her nerve uncommon for a human woman. Most would show fear at hearing a disturbing story being told by a terrifying creature, while being stuck helplessly alone with them. He respected her bravery and hoped that respect would hold out as the days wore on, and her presence tempted him further.

  He continued. “The smell as it neared reminded me of a rotting carcass. Every fiber in my body and soul was screaming at me to run, but I did not. It was now inches from my face, sniffing the air. I felt hot pain as the teeth ripped the flesh on my shoulder.

  “Now that I was free of the gaze, my body started to come back under my command. I swung the trap that was still in my hand and connected with the hideous face. I heard crunching, and saw blood, but that could have been my own.

  “My efforts didn't stop it, and now that it had bitten me, the saliva was wreaking havoc in my body. I felt a hot, dizzying wave, and fell to the ground as it washed over me. The thing crawled over me and started to chew on my shoulder. I could hear the gurgling sound as my blood and life pumped from my body, and I could hear the awful slurping as it fed.

  “Thankfully, blackness came and took me from the horrible scene. I don't know how long I laid there, better than to say it was hours. I felt an urge to go, go anywhere dark, dark and safe. I wasn't in the state of mind or physical condition to drag myself to my cabin. I'm not even sure how, but I did manage to find my way to the cave, which became my home while I healed.”

  When he paused, he could see her relief, he shared the feeling. It unsettled him to think back to that horrible experience. He stood and walked out of the room, which let her know without a word that he needed a break.

  In an effort to still her mind she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She formed a hundred new questions while she stood in the kitchen. She didn't even know monstrous beasts like the one he described existed.

  It startled her to see him at the fridge with the door opened, drinking. “Oh, I'm sorry. I was just going to get some water.”

  “No need to be sorry. You can't sneak up on me.”

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression framed by her reddish-brown hair. “What do you mean?”

  He sat his half-empty glass down
in the fridge and looked closer at the tall, curvy creature in his kitchen. In addition to appearing delicious, he found her smell intoxicating. He considered leaning closer to her, to breathe in her lovely scent, but he figured that would be rude and continued his effort to ignore how badly he had wanted to touch her.

  He took a few steps in her direction as he spoke, “You can't sneak up on me because I can hear your heart beating across the house. I can hear your blood flowing in your veins. The closer you get, the louder it is.”

  He stood uncomfortably close.

  She could feel his coldness, feel his eyes on her. Her mind sent mixed messages. She wanted to run, get in her car and leave, but she also wanted to stay, stay and learn more about him. In addition to her need to shine public light on the slave trades, she found him intriguing. Something set him apart from the vampires she ran across in the city.

  “Why are you here, Kate?” His cold breath on her skin gave her goosebumps.

  “I'm working,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  He could sense her fear rise which made his hunger increase. He stepped back and walked over to the fridge, finished his drink and poured another. “Why does the topic of killers interest you?”

  She looked at him sipping his drink as casually as one might a beer, while his eyes watched her. “They don't. I am interested in sorting out the myths from the facts. There are a lot of questions that no one seems to be asking.”

  “I see, and you feel like you need those answers?” he asked, while he studied her face.

  “I do and so does everyone else. Wouldn't you want to know more about me, if I were sustained on your life force?” Her stance and tone came off as a challenge.

  He laughed. “Well aren't you spunky? How do you feel about what I am?”

  She looked away from him and answered, “I liked it better when 'what you are' was nothing more than Hollywood nonsense.”

  “I couldn't agree more.” He stepped closer. “Do you realize how easily this could turn bad for you?”

  “Neither of us seems to have been fully prepared for this, but then, how could we? I will make the best of it.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. Over the last few days he continued to lean toward asking her to leave. She did not want to leave without finding out what he knew, and maybe names of those involved. “Don't send me away. Yours will be the best story I have ever told.”

  His eyes furrowed, her mixture of brave and stubborn, with vulnerable and unsure, made her a complicated woman, a mess he did not have time to clean up. Actually, he did have time, he had all the time he wanted. What he was lacking was patience, patience and restraint. “I am out here, out here alone, drinking this vile swill because I am a monster. No better than the thing I just told you about. My story is not for your world; I am not for this new vampire-friendly society. I belong in the shadows. Hunting, killing, surviving. No good will come if you stay.”

  She stepped closer to him. “You are haunted, by things I cannot begin to imagine, but you are not a monster. I have seen monsters in the city, both human and vampire that feed on the weak and vulnerable.”

  “No,” he said. “They are nothing but a nuisance compared to what I was in the city. What I have been before…”

  She looked at him standing in the light of the fridge. He was agitated and she didn't want to push since she felt like a breakthrough, an admission, something that could save lives loomed close. “I will leave you to your thoughts, but please consider my staying. I will do all I can not to disrupt your life.”

  He didn't respond, he just watched her walk out, and listened to her as she moved through the rooms and back to the work-space they created for her. He heard the keys on the laptop clicking, and her heart steadily beating. What was he going to do with her? He craved to taste her, and only the knowledge that to taste her meant to kill her, restrained his desire.

  More than tasting her, he wanted to touch her, feel her warmth, but he assumed that would trigger a bite, a taste, and death.

  She needed to leave. He wanted her to leave, but he also liked her, liked her because she was so brave, and so broken, hard and guarded, and yet soft and opened. If she were going to stay, he would need to go and hunt soon, so the urge to taste fresh, warm blood would go away.

  He walked into the room and she looked up with a smile.

  “Did you want to call it a night?” she asked.

  “No, we can carry on for now, see how you hold up as the night wears on.” He walked over to the chair and sat down.

  “Do you know if there are still things like the one who attacked you?”

  “Yes, they will survive when all of the other muddled generations and their reckless behavior is long gone.”

  “Do you admire them?” She saw a look of admiration and heard it in his tone.

  “In a way. They just are what they are. No pretenses, no apologies.”

  “When did you start to hate humans?” She watched as he stared into the fire.

  “I don't hate humans. I am grateful, they give me sustenance.”

  “You see them, us, as nothing more?”

  “No, nothing more.” He turned to watch her watch him. He wondered where she wanted to go with those questions and why she would press that issue. It must be uncomfortable to know she was food, why make him say it out loud? Her eyes searched his face in a way that made him wonder what she thought she saw. “What else did you expect to hear?”

  “I have no expectations. I have seen friendships between humans and vampires. There has even been talk of legalizing unions.”

  His face wrinkled up in disgust. “Unions? What human would want to live with, be close to, or be touched by a cold, dead thing?”

  “The heart loves who it loves,” she said, matter of fact.

  “No, it isn't about heart. I can see a lazy vampire not wanting to hunt benefiting from a union or friendship, but I frankly don't see the other side.”

  “That's cynical. Don't you love anything?”

  “I love the taste of warm blood. I love listening to your heart beating. Tell me, Kate, would you like to feel cold, dead hands on your soft, warm skin?”

  She looked at him, watched his face go from friendly and playful, to menacing. “I think I need another break.” She got up.

  He watched her walk away and wondered why she didn't answer. He knew how she must feel about his kind, killers, monsters. He didn't blame her for that reasonable conclusion at all. He wished she just said no, and moved on to something else. It hung in the air, and briefly the thought of touching her skin danced across his mind. How would she react? Would she shudder as he imagined any woman would, or would she pull closer and let her warmth encase him. He pushed the absurd thought from his mind and walked outside to get away from her smell.

  Chapter Two

  K ate stood in the kitchen drinking more water, a nervous habit. The edgy feeling that washed over her fed on the one eating at Nick. He asked her if she wanted to feel his cold touch, and that her mind faltered bothered her. Why didn't she just say no? Could she really, somewhere deep down, be curious? If she could view him as no more than curiosity, that would make her as cold as him.

  She knew her sole focus should be to expose creatures like Nick for what they were, something about him distracted her from that, distracted her from the fact he could give her answers about the growing number of missing, captive, or dead humans.

  She emptied her glass, rinsed it, and put it back in the dish drainer. She wondered if he would be offended to be viewed of as a curiosity? Not that it should affect him, since she was just a food item. Being seen as such shouldn't bother her either, but it did. Was it pride that made her want him to see her as more? Or part of the human condition, being raised to believe that they were at the top of the food chain? To be fair, should she also be looking at him as more than just a subject?

  She walked back to the room.

  He still wasn't there, so she walked outside.

  The cold air wrapp
ed around her and she shivered a little, then pulled her jacket closed. She should have brought a heavier jacket, but she didn't realize just how cold the nights would be.

  There was nothing sexy about being cold. Thinking of him as such must have been from being there alone together. Her mind was playing games with her.

  Nick watched her, listened to her breathe, he cleared his throat so he wouldn't startle her, and walked over. “I'm sorry about that, inside.”

  “No need to be sorry. It had crossed my mind,” she offered, and watched him for a reaction.

  “What had?”

  “What your touch might be like. Well, I mean to say, what temperature your skin would be. Oh, I am sorry now, that sounded awful.” She was embarrassed at how it came out. There was no nice way to say, 'since you are dead I was wondering how cold you are.'

  “I am sure you will ask more awful things than how cold I might be. It was me who asked anyway.” He smiled at her. Did she really want to know about his temperature, or his touch? The question played on his mind and he reached his hand out to touch her face.

  She didn't recoil, didn't slap him, her eyes closed.

  The coldness of his fingers as they touched her cheek shocked her almost as much as how pleasant it felt. Something about him reaching out to her seemed comforting. Her hand extended up to his, and rested on the back of his hand, the coldness melted into her warmth.

  Nick left his hand, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the warm sensations of her touch. It soothed, but didn't satisfy. Just like blood. He knew once he allowed that touch on his skin, in his mind, he would never have his fill.

  He pulled his hand away. “I shouldn't have done that; it was not appropriate.”

  “No need. It was nice.” It shocked her how much she liked the feel of his hand on her face.

  “Nice? Oh Kate, you really should leave.”

  “Not nice as in do it again.” Her face showed frustration. “Nice as in, I was curious and now I know.”