by J. A. Saare
Something warmed inside me, an unfamiliar heat I had never experienced surfacing. The compulsion to move closer was overwhelming. Eager fingers longed to touch his full bottom lip.
Would it be as soft as it appeared?
A female voice spoke through the door. “Gabriel, may I have a word?”
I shook my head clear of the emotional spider web and saw Disco frown in frustration before I averted my eyes. He rose, returned the knife to the drawer, and walked to the door.
My eyes quickly darted around the room.
Red curtains interlaid with golden threads covered the walls and windows, each one held aloft by bronze colored poles situated along the intricately crown molded ceiling. Directly across from the bed was a desk. The dark wood stretched for several feet, matching chair legs that were visible underneath. To the right was a fireplace with wood stacked neatly inside an iron grate.
Lifting my injured hand, I flexed my fingers. When I experienced no pain, I ripped apart the bandage, twisting the gauze around and around until I could see my skin.
The gash was sealed.
I quickly pulled each strip from my fingers and the bandage from my forearm. The cuts were nothing more than thin lines. A long pale furrow of sealed skin ran from the outside of my elbow to my wrist, appearing the same as the gash on my hand.
When I lifted shaky fingers to my mouth, the torn skin was gone, the edges sealed.
I leapt out of the softness of the mattress, landing on socked feet and steady legs. I stretched down, bringing my hands to my feet, finding my shit kickers on the floor next to the bed.
No pain, no discomfort. If it weren’t for my heightened senses, I’d have felt totally normal.
I straightened, amazed and slightly terrified.
“Paine has returned.” The voice from the hallway was lovely, soft and melodic. “You asked to be informed when he arrived.”
I swiveled to see who had spoken, but Disco’s body blocked her from view.
“Thank you. Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”
Disco closed the door and walked back into the room. He observed me guardedly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his expensive black slacks.
“When will this pass?”
“A few days,” he answered quietly. He stepped around the edge of the bed, stopping a couple of feet away.
“Days?” I winced. “Why so long?”
“Taking blood directly from our bodies is different. You’re feeding not only on the sustenance, but also on our essence, the very thing that gives us life. You couldn’t achieve this level of healing from blood poured into a glass. You’ll adjust. The disorientation is only temporary and will subside.”
I flopped down into the mattress, hips sinking into the softness of the feathers. I eyed Disco warily, following his movements as he lifted his left leg and perched on the edge of the bed.
“Did you know what was going to happen in there tonight?” He and Wesley had known one another, and that made me leery. I didn’t believe Disco was the kind of person to set me up, but I’d had serious lapses in judgment before.
“I didn’t until I saw Wesley entering the house, and by then, it was too late. I tried to tell you to get out, but you already suspected something was wrong. When your mind went blank…” He took an uneasy breath. “I was very relieved to hear you again.”
“What is he?” I shivered as I recalled Wesley’s voice inside my head.
“Do you know what an incubus is?” I nodded and he continued. “Wesley is one of the few that exist. Using sex, he can control the mind of any female he chooses.”
“Not me,” I stated angrily, remembering the women who’d surrounded him as though he was a Greek God.
“No.” Disco tilted his head admiringly. “Not you.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” I kept repeating four words in my head—please God say no.
“No.” He sounded annoyed, and when I looked at his face, his lips were drawn tight. “Wesley moved to Nevada where his talent could be put to good use. I don’t know why he came back. Perhaps he was bored, or maybe he wanted to reconnect with his family. He lived here originally.”
“What’s this business about marking?” I waited until he met my eyes and asked, “What was that all about?”
He didn’t look away, irises becoming teal. “When humans become close to a vampire family, or they wish to enter into it at some point, they are marked. This serves as a warning that they are spoken for, so no harm comes to them.”
“Have you marked me?” I tried to contain the tremor in my voice.
“No,” he answered quietly and my shoulders sagged in relief. “That is a personal choice only you can make. Although, I think you should consider it, especially now.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’d rather not. After this is all over, I want to return to my normal life.”
“You’ll never return to your normal life, Rhiannon. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s the true nonetheless. The longer you remain unmarked, the greater the danger you place yourself into.” Disco’s voice was laced with regret, but also a willful determination.
“That’s not true,” I argued, grasping at straws. “Take Goose, he leads a normal life.” It was a bad analogy, and I knew it. Goose wasn’t normal. He dabbled in all things kooky and surreal.
“Ethan was marked by us years ago.”
Panicked, I stood and strode across the room. I stopped, facing the wall, staring at the swirling golden threads stitched intricately inside the velvety curtains. Goose was marked; that explained a lot. No wonder he was so gung-ho about helping.
He was a part of the fucking family.
“Rhiannon, talk to me.” Disco’s voice was inches from my ear, and I realized he’d silently crossed the room to stand behind me.
“I want to go home.” Wrapping my arms around myself, my chaotic mind grasped for a solution. I would move. That would solve everything. It worked before, and it would work again.
“Moving won’t change anything. It will only delay the inevitable.” His hands came up, gently enveloping my arms.
“You said you would stay out of my head,” I snapped through clenched teeth, agitated with myself for feeling the way I did. I wanted to be furious and resentful. Instead, I found my body aching for the feel of his delicate fingers across the surface of my skin.
“I have respected your wishes. You spoke aloud.” He moved closer. I could feel and sense his nearness.
“What do you want, Disco? Or should I call you Gabriel?” I closed my eyes, forcing my sensitive peepers to take ten.
“I want you to stop being so afraid. I want you to feel safe and protected. I want you to show me the real you, no more false pretenses or facades. And I want you to trust me. You can call me whatever you wish; by the name chosen on the day of my birth, or the one intended as a joke. Both will lead you to the same man.”
I resisted the temptation to let it all go, to leave all the burdening shit I’d carried behind in the past, but forgetting your mistakes made you prone to repeat them, and I would never allow myself to be placed in a helpless position again.
I felt split down the middle, absolutely torn.
“Some people are beyond repair, and I’m one of them. I can’t be fixed, not by you, or anyone else.” I opened my eyes and stepped away from the wall. Walking to the bed, I reached for my boots.
Disco rounded on me, eyes flashing in anger. “Why won’t you tell me what happened to you? What’s bound you so tightly you cannot let it go? Let it out, Rhiannon. Expel the taint from your life so you can move on.”
“I won’t ever tell anyone about it,” I responded flatly and shook my head, zipping the boots up one at a time. I hated ending the night on a sour note, but it was safest thing—for both of us. “And I think it’s time I went on my way.”
“You can’t just leave,” Disco grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. It was the first time I’d seen him lose composure, and
the knowledge that I was responsible made me feel like shit. “Are you certain you want to go? You don’t want to discuss this?”
He moved across the room in a burst of speed, standing across from me in one moment and in front of me the next. He made sure not to touch me, but it wouldn’t take much to bridge the gap.
I sighed, changing my mind and offering an explanation I hoped he would accept. God help me, I cared about what he thought.
How the mighty have fallen.
“The girl you want to know died a long time ago. She’s gone, Disco.”
“She’s still there.” The gold shifted in his irises, becoming bright. “You choose to keep her locked away in a place that festers and rots. It’s a shame; she deserves better.”
“Have you finished analyzing me yet?” I snapped. He was doing the one thing I couldn’t stand for, asking for something beyond my capacity to give.
“For now.” His eyes reflected the light. The gold was truly stunning, as if the iris was a three dimensional display of color—black edges, shifting blue as the base, and liquid gold on the top.
“I want to go home.” My voice lost the anger, becoming deflated.
“As you wish.” He cupped my face in his hands, thumbs brushing my jaw tenderly. Those gold tinged eyes rolled me under, erasing the room, sending me into darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
Birds were chirping outside, serenading worms, hatchlings, and nests. I smiled and stretched, breathing in a deep lungful of fresh morning air. I had the worst nightmare, but now, it was over. I was home, in my bed.
No more horny vampires who fed from slutty women.
No more blood…
My eyelids flew open.
I wasn’t at home, and I wasn’t in my room.
The ceiling fan rotated in a slow motion, causing the thin cream-colored curtains at the window to flutter. I sat up, eyes wide. The striped comforter matched the Robin’s-egg blue interior of the room, and contrasted with the antique cream-colored dresser and nightstand.
Someone was outside the door. I could hear the floor creaking with each footstep.
My socked feet slipped on the polished wood as I slid from the bed. Padding across the room, I paused to glance in the full-length mirror on the back of the closed door. Other than a case of bed head, my face was completely normal. There were no bruises, and the cut on the edge of my mouth was gone. I inspected my hand. The white lines were barely visible on my skin. I flexed my body and it responded with no aches or pains; muscles strong and ready to go.
Grasping the tarnished golden handle, I turned until the latch gave, held my breath, and said a prayer that the door wouldn’t creak as I peeked out.
Beady-eyed stares greeted me from the top shelves, and a growl rumbled inside my chest. I knew exactly where Goose was. I could hear him shuffling about as he prepared breakfast.
I glided into the strawberry kitchen, thus dubbed by me because of all the kooky strawberry decorations inside. Goose had it all—strawberry salt and pepper shakers, a strawberry paper towel holder, a strawberry sugar jar, and cookie containers. He even had a strawberry teapot, complete with matching glasses and saucers.
I sneaked up from behind and said, “You and I are going to have to work on our communication issues.”
An egg slipped from his hand as he whipped around. I rushed forward, catching it in my palm before it hit the ground, and shoved aside my temporary shock. This was about Goose and his failure to communicate, not my ability to save falling objects with superhero-like reflexes. I put the egg back into the Styrofoam carton, anchoring my hands on my hips, and stared him down.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were marked by Disco’s people?”
“Hello and good day to you, too, Rhiannon. It’s wonderful to discover you’re so pleasant in the mornings.” He narrowed his eyes and hitched his chin in the direction of the bedroom. “How did you sleep, by the way? I hope better than I did. The couch isn’t very forgiving on my back.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” I snorted. “You will not play the victim. Do you have any idea of the shit I went through last night?”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry. I should have insisted on going with you.”
“Why? So the big bad vampire could mind fuck you too?” He paled and I said, “Oh, for Christ’s sake, I’m joking!”
“That’s not very funny.” He cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl and tossed the shell haphazardly into the trash.
“Without humor, I couldn’t survive insane shit like this. I would lose my mind.” I smelled coffee and followed the aroma. A freshly made pot sat waiting. I pointed to the machine. “May I?”
“I had planned on surprising you with breakfast, including coffee. So yes, you may.” He started whisking the eggs, wrist and arm moving effortlessly.
“All right, Martha, tell me about this business between you and Disco. I want to know why the hell you didn’t let me in on the fact you were part of the family.” I grabbed a mug and pulled it down. It was decorated with Christmas trees and eight tiny reindeer, but at least it wasn’t strawberries.
“It’s complicated.” He poured the eggs into the pan, moving a plastic spatula along the bottom.
“Lucky me.” I smiled sardonically and took a seat at the table. “I have all day.”
“Necromancers don’t have it easy. We can see the dead, communicate with the dead, and in some cases, we can control the dead. That’s a very dangerous ability when you live in a world where dead things co-exist among the living.”
“I’m waiting,” I prodded when he didn’t continue.
“For our own safety, it’s generally advised that we find a group of people who can offer protection. Necromancers are sought after because some of us have the capability to overcome vampires if we so desire. It’s uncommon. Only three such people exist that I am aware of, and all of them are marked.” He pulled the pan from the stove and emptied the eggs onto a waiting plate.
“And you?” I hiked my chin at him. “Why did you decide to allow Disco to mark you?”
“It was the smart decision, and the right decision. All of us have to find security, and if it’s offered by someone you trust, you can’t ask for more. I could have found myself bound to a group that loaned me out for profit, or demanded I only work directly for them. And that does happen, more often than I care to admit.”
He filled a plate with eggs and two slices of toast, slid it across the table, and sat down, folding his arms across his chest.
“What does it mean anyway? Do you actually have a mark?”
He removed his thick Tag Heuer watch to display an intricate splash of lines and dots along the width of his wrist.
“It’s just a tattoo?” I exhaled a sigh of relief. A tattoo was easy. Where did I sign up?
“No.” He shook his head as he refastened his watch. “You have to swear fealty to the family, and it’s a lifelong commitment. You also have to give a blood exchange, which allows them to find you no matter where you go. It links you together.”
“Hell no,” I breathed.
“It’s not without benefits. How would you like to look any vampire in the eye and maintain control? Their mind manipulations don’t work so well once you’ve entered the fold. It’s a double-edged sword. And the best part is your necromancy. Once that gate is opened between you and them, you’ll discover just how far your abilities go.”
He rose from the table and went for coffee.
“I was interested in understanding my abilities,” I said, “but if joining the home team is the means to that end, I’ll have to pass.”
“God damn it!” Goose roared, no longer happy go lucky Ethan McDaniel P.I. He faced me, his tone harsh. “Pay attention to what I’m going to tell you, and don’t interrupt with your sassy smart ass comments. This isn’t funny anymore. You don’t have many options left, Rhiannon. Once word gets out that a necromancer is floating around unmarked, it’s only a matter of time before undesirables start sniff
ing around. That badass attitude of yours won’t hold an ounce of water with the kind of people you’re about to meet. And they’re coming. Hell, they may already be here. So you think about what Disco offered, and you think about it real hard.”
He took a deep breath, turned around, and filled his mug.
I didn’t know if it was the information shared, his anger, or the look he gave as he forced me to listen, but I kept my mouth shut when he walked back over, sat down, and rested his elbows on the table, clasping the mug with both hands.
“I understand there are things in your past that keep you distant, but this is something that even you can’t tackle alone. I don’t want to see you broken, and that is exactly what would happen if you’re marked by the wrong people.” His concerned brown eyes locked on mine, and his voice softened. “They won’t ask for permission. They’ll force you to give fealty. And once they have it, they’ll own you. I don’t think you’d survive something like that. Not for long.”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted wearily. “Why us? Why are we so important? How would they even know if someone is marked or not? Can’t I just say that I am?”
“Because that connection between the living and dead flows through us and they can absorb it. If they are hurt or weakened, they can draw strength from our life force for themselves. The mark is a living thing. They can sense it, just as we can sense the spirits around us.”
“It sounds dangerous,” I said, unable to conceal my fear.
“It is.” He looked at me, stressing the importance of his words. “That’s why you have to trust those you align yourself with. A selfish person won’t care if you live or die because of their needs. They’ll just suck you dry, and if you don’t survive, wait until another comes along to repeat the cycle. Are you starting to get the picture now?”
I cradled my head in my hands. I got the picture. I was being forced to choose between the lesser of two evils again. It sucked and pissed me off something fierce, but it also scared me shitless.
