The Tomb of Blood

by Britney Jackson

  Kallias started laughing. “Sounds like him.”

  “Seriously,” Rose said, her eyes wide, “seven meals. I counted them.”

  He laughed again, and then, he leaned forward and pressed his hand against the side of her face. “I don’t see you smile enough anymore,” he sighed.

  “It’s these fangs,” Rose quipped. “My smiles are too sharp and toothy.”

  He just sighed at her ill-timed humor. “Speaking of fangs,” he said slowly, offering her his own sharp and toothy smile, “I can feel your hunger.”

  She leaned back in her chair, sighing, “Blood bonds are such tattletales.”

  “You need to feed,” Kallias said, “before the hunger gets any worse.”

  Rose just stared at him. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said in the sassiest tone possible. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you with my insatiable hunger.”

  Kallias rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he muttered as he leaned forward and kissed her. The office chair squeaked as he leaned into her, the force causing the chair to tilt backward, pressing against the desk. He tasted the blood on her lips from when she’d fed earlier that night, and he tasted the spearmint flavor of her toothpaste on her tongue. He groaned as she nipped his lips with her fangs.

  She moaned softly at the taste of his blood, and then, her eyes opened as she realized what she’d done. She pulled back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s fine,” he growled as he closed the space between their lips again. He kissed her hungrily, aggressively, drawing a low moan from her lips. He moved his legs between hers, his body pressing harder against hers, as his lips moved against hers. Then, with an amused grin, he nipped her lips with his fangs.

  She moaned at the sensation, and then, she giggled at him.

  He laughed, too, and stood. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He led her backward, toward the bed, and then, he turned and pushed her onto the bed. He climbed over her, his legs straddling her hips, his mouth moving to her neck. She moaned as he began to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of her neck. Their blood bond caused the sensations to feel more intense, and when he grazed his fangs against her neck, she arched her back beneath him, pressing her soft curves against him. He fought the urge to sink his fangs into her neck.

  Rose frowned as he pulled back, worried that she’d done something wrong, but then, he shifted their position, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her over him. Her thighs straddled his hips, and her long, red hair fell forward, around them, as she leaned over him. He tugged her shirt over her head.

  She moved her face to his neck and inhaled his scent—peppermint, leather, aftershave, and then…blood…sweet, powerful blood. She didn’t decide to sniff his neck like that. It was something her body naturally did—an instinct. It still unnerved her whenever her instincts caused her to do things like that.

  Rose kissed the tattooed skin of his neck, tracing the curve of the flames with her tongue. He groaned in response, his hands closing around her hips, pulling her closer. She gasped as she felt the bulge of his jeans against her.

  Unable to resist the hunger, Rose sank her fangs into his neck. She moaned as his blood filled her mouth. It tasted unlike anything she could have imagined as a human. It tasted sweet and soothing, and it tasted like power.

  “I should have taken off my shirt,” he laughed as he felt the warm blood sliding over his skin and soaking the collar of his shirt. But that thought instantly melted away, along with any other thoughts he might’ve had, as the endorphins took effect, sending shockwaves of desire and pleasure throughout his body.

  Rose fed greedily from him, the blood spilling from the corners of her lips and coating her skin. His sweet, powerful blood soothed the ravenous hunger that kept her in constant pain, the hunger that twisted at her stomach and burned her throat. One of her hands clutched his arm, and the other cradled the other side of his neck. Her body rocked against him, seeking the pressure and friction of his body that she so desperately needed. She moaned softly as she felt his fingers against her back, unhooking her bra. He tossed it aside. Then, his hands moved to her breasts, squeezing, massaging…increasing her desperation.

  She pulled back, away from his neck, and then, she kissed him with her blood-soaked lips, her fingers clumsily fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

  He flipped their position again, pressing her down onto the bed, as he knelt between her legs, undoing the buttons of his shirt much quicker than she could have. He tossed his shirt off of the bed and leaned over her, kissing her.

  Kallias trailed his lips down to her neck. She moaned as he kissed her neck and traced the path of the artery with his tongue. He slid his fingers into her soft, red hair, tugging her head to the side, giving himself better access to her neck, and then, he bit her, his fangs sinking deep into her neck. She gasped and arched her back beneath him, pressing her body against his, her soft breasts pressing against his harder, muscular chest, her hips pressing against his hips, their bodies meeting in all of the right places. He groaned at the way her body felt, at the way her blood tasted… He pulled back, blood dripping from his lips.

  She stared up at him, that crimson-red haze swirling and flashing within her eyes, like an out-of-control fire. The Stone of the Eklektos burned against the bare skin of her chest, glowing as brightly as her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said, leaning down to press his lips against hers. Her lips felt wet with blood, just like his own, and he tasted the mix of their blood in the kiss. “Nothing at all,” he whispered, his warm breath falling against her lips.

  His phone began to buzz loudly in his pocket.

  “I will kill whoever is on the other side of that line,” Kallias growled.

  “Or,” Rose said, laughing, “you could just ignore it.”

  He sighed, “I suppose that is more reasonable than murder.”

  As he kissed her again, the phone continued to buzz…and buzz…and buzz…until it finally went to voicemail. Then, the phone started buzzing again.

  “Fucking hell,” he growled against her lips.

  “Just answer it,” Rose mumbled against his lips. He pulled back to look at her, and she lay her head back against the pillow, staring up at him, noticing the blood that coated his face and the tiny, crimson stream that dripped from one corner of his lips. “This is the second time they’ve called. It must be important.”

  Kallias kissed her again, drawing a moan from her lips. “Are you sure?”

  “No,” Rose whimpered against his lips. “I mean yes. Yes, answer it.”

  He chuckled at her indecisiveness as he raised up on his knees and fished his phone out of his pocket. “It’s Geoff,” he said, frowning at the screen. He tapped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey. What do you need?”

  “Kallias,” Geoffrey said worriedly. “Are you watching the news?”

  Rose sat up, gathering the black, satin sheets around her half-naked body, stunned to find that she could hear Geoffrey’s voice, lilting with that thick British accent, clearly from the other side of the line, as if she were holding the phone to her own ear. Just another aspect of being a vampire that she hadn’t gotten used to yet. She watched as Kallias frowned and climbed off of the bed.

  “No,” Kallias said. He cradled the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he stood and buttoned his pants. He wiped his hand across his face, quickly wiping away the blood, and bent to snatch up his shirt from the floor. “Why?”

  “Just turn on the news,” Geoffrey insisted. “It’s bad.”

  At that, Kallias disappeared from the room in a blur of movement, not even bothering to shut the door as he left. Rose grimaced and glanced around the room, looking for her shirt. She found it draped over the nightstand and stretched out awkwardly, still clutching the sheets, to snatch it off of the table.

  She dressed as quickly as possible, throwing the oversized, blue T-shirt over her head without even bothering to hunt for her bra,
and then, she raced downstairs to find Kallias in the living room, already dressed, with the remote in his hand. Erik lounged on the sofa with a mostly empty pan of barbecue chicken wings in his lap. He held one hand out, toward the television, as if he’d been holding the remote just a moment before and had yet to drop his hand.

  Erik scowled at Kallias. “Hey, I was using that!” he complained.

  Kallias ignored Erik and pressed the button on the remote control, switching the television from the romantic reality show that Erik had apparently been watching to the World News channel, where the words Breaking News flashed boldly at the bottom of the screen. He still held the phone idly at his ear.

  Erik glanced back at Rose and snorted, “I see you’ve already eaten.”

  Rose frowned at him for a moment, and then, her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. She quickly wiped her hand over her mouth, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment as her hand came away covered in dark red blood.

  Erik grinned at her. “You’re kind of a messy eater, aren’t you?”

  Rose glared at him. “I will shatter every whiskey bottle in the house.”

  His smile instantly faded. “I hate you,” he whined immaturely.

  “Will you two shut the hell up?” Kallias grumbled rudely, turning up the volume on the television until the reporter’s voice drowned out everything else.

  “I don’t know. Will you say please?” Rose sassed, lifting her eyebrows.

  “Authorities are now calling this a crisis,” the reporter announced, casting a nervous glance behind her, as if she expected someone to step out of the shadows at any moment. She returned her gaze to the camera, pushing her long, blonde hair out of her face as a wind gust blew it forward. “No names have been released yet, but we have received word that, as of two hours ago, three hundred people have been murdered. All of the victims have the same puncture wounds on their necks and were left in the streets with a single, blue orchid lying beside them. Authorities no longer believe this is the work of one serial killer. With such overwhelming numbers, they now believe that this must be the work of many people. Perhaps even an army. Authorities are advising citizens to stay inside at night, at least until the people responsible for the murders are caught.”

  Rose’s eyes widened at the news report, and she automatically glanced at Erik. “Did you know the numbers were that high?” she asked him quietly.

  Erik looked as surprised as she did. He shrugged at her, his bright green eyes wide. “Not at all. As of last night, there had only been thirty murders.”

  “Last night?” Kallias repeated, muting the television as he turned to stare incredulously at them. “You both knew about this and didn’t say anything?”

  “Not exactly,” Rose said. “I didn’t see the article until earlier tonight.”

  Erik winced. “I might have known about it a little longer than that.”

  “What the hell, Erik?” Kallias snarled. “This is serious.”

  “I know,” Erik sighed. “I was going to tell you tonight.”

  “What should we do about this?” Geoffrey asked suddenly, apparently still on the other end of the phone line. Rose heard his voice so clearly that, for a moment, she wondered if he were actually in the living room with them.

  Kallias pressed the phone closer to his ear. “It’s too close to sunrise to do anything about it tonight,” he sighed into the phone. “Just…come over at nightfall tomorrow, and we will discuss what we should do about it then.”

  “All right,” Geoffrey agreed. “Emma and I will see you then.”

  Kallias turned off the phone and slid it into his pocket.

  “What can we do about it?” Rose asked curiously.

  “I don’t know,” Kallias admitted, “but we have to stop it somehow. It’s already gotten out-of-hand. At this point, whoever is behind all of this is putting every vampire on the planet in danger, and consequently, every human as well.”

  “I don’t understand why Aaron hasn’t put a stop to it yet,” Erik said, frowning thoughtfully, as he leaned forward and set the empty pan on the coffee table. “All of these murders happened near the Tomb of Blood. This isn’t the kind of thing Aaron would allow to go unchecked. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Unless Aaron is behind it,” Kallias suggested. “The reporter did say that it could be an army. Aaron certainly has an army of vampires at his disposal.”

  Erik frowned at that. “Look, I know you hate Aaron. I don’t particularly see eye-to-eye with him either. But you and I both know that Aaron would never do something like this. Aaron has one major rule that he enforces, and that rule is that we must keep our existence a secret. If he finds out that a vampire is not properly disposing of their kills, he sends someone to kill them. Immediately.”

  “And yet, he hasn’t,” Kallias pointed out. “Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know,” Erik admitted, scratching his jaw, “but I doubt he just suddenly changed his mind about keeping the existence of vampires a secret. Aaron is over four thousand years old. He’s pretty damn set in his ways by now.”

  Rose’s eyes widened in shock. “Did you just say four thousand?”

  Erik shrugged one shoulder. “Give or take a few years. Or…centuries.”

  “Aaron is power-hungry,” Kallias reminded Erik. “Maybe he finally decided that controlling the most powerful vampire colony in the world isn’t enough for him. Maybe he decided that he wants humans to fear him, too.”

  “Aaron has no interest in humans,” Erik argued. “You know that.”

  “Then, how do you explain what is happening?” Kallias challenged.

  “I don’t know,” Erik admitted, “but I don’t think Aaron is responsible.”

  “Guys,” Rose interrupted them, “there is another possible explanation.”

  Kallias glanced curiously at her. “Like what?”

  She shrugged bewilderedly, as if it were the simplest possibility in the world. “Don’t you think it’s possible that it could be someone challenging Aaron?”

  Kallias’s brows furrowed. “Challenging?”

  “I’m just saying,” Rose said. “You said that these murders are taking place near the Tomb of Blood, the vampire colony that Aaron controls, and you also said that his most important rule is that vampires keep their existence a secret. This sounds like an act of defiance to me. Maybe even an act of war.”

  “No one is powerful enough to challenge Aaron,” Erik stated.

  “That’s never stopped anyone from declaring war before,” Rose said. “You don’t have to be powerful enough. You just have to be arrogant enough.”

  “I just can’t see anyone being that arrogant. Going against the Tomb of Blood, or even Aaron alone, is suicide,” Kallias argued. “It seems more likely that Aaron is behind it. He has the numbers to accomplish something like this.”

  “The reporter said that the bodies had puncture wounds,” Rose pointed out. “We have healing enzymes in our saliva, right? So, why were there puncture wounds? Those wounds should’ve healed. Unless…the ones behind this wanted people to realize that vampires exist. Unless…they just wanted to defy Aaron.”

  “She has a point,” Erik said to Kallias. “It does seem deliberate.”

  Kallias dragged his hand through his long, brown hair. “Regardless,” he sighed. “If Aaron isn’t going to put a stop to this, then we will have to stop it.”

  “Right,” Erik agreed, “but how the hell do we do that?”

  “We find the ones responsible, and we kill them,” Kallias stated.

  Rose frowned worriedly. “And if they do have an army?”

  “Then, we die,” Erik muttered dryly, “probably.”

  The Plan

  Erik stepped out of the cold and into the ancient, Norse mead hall. As he closed the door behind him, the howling, winter winds quietened, replaced by the sounds of loud, drunken voices and obnoxious laughter. He ducked beneath the bearskin that hung over the doorway and squeezed between several da
ncing couples. The scent of fresh blood filled his senses, and he followed it.

  A small, blonde woman bumped into him. “Sorry!” she giggled. The mead splashed out of her cup as she swayed unsteadily, and it soaked the front of her heavy, gray dress. She looked up at him and froze, her mouth falling open. “Wow,” she breathed, obviously affected by his allure. “Do you want to dance?”

  Erik offered her an apologetic smile. “Would love to. Any other time,” he sighed, “but I’m looking for someone at the moment. Sorry, gorgeous.”

  The woman blushed. “Oh. Well, maybe I can help you find this person.”

  He nodded. “I’m looking for Kara Unnarsdóttir. Have you seen her?”

  She shrugged. “Never heard of her. Is she your wife?”

  Erik snorted, “Not even close.”

  Fires burned in both fireplaces—one on each side of the hall—filling the hall with warmth. The yellowish glow of the fires danced and swayed along the wall. Erik slid past the woman and continued further down the hall, past the fireplaces, past the kitchens, past the long dining table that stretched almost to the end of the hall. The scent of blood led him to the darkest corner of the room. He froze, his eyebrows lifting, when he found the woman he’d been looking for.

  A woman he didn’t recognize—a human with fair, freckled skin, curly, blonde hair, and a full, curvaceous figure—sat in a chair in the corner with her dress bunched up around her hips, revealing most of her soft, pale thighs. The woman he did recognize—a gorgeous, muscular vampire with long, tangled, ash-blonde hair, dressed in leather underclothes and chainmail armor—straddled the human woman’s hips, her lips against the woman’s throat and her hand between them, her fingers moving between the woman’s thighs. The vampire moved in a sensual, undulating rhythm against the human as she drank the blood pouring from the woman’s neck. The human’s breathless moans grew louder and louder.

  Erik cast a wide-eyed glance around him, relieved to see that everyone in the hall seemed too preoccupied to notice what was happening in the corner.