Kindred (Kindred, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  I roll my head on my shoulders and adopt my usual mask. I force myself to not close my eyes as she approaches, a sense of calm flowing over me with each delicate step she takes down the hall towards my door. If I could give in to what I desire right now, I would already have her skin beneath my fangs. My jaw aches to let them down. To make her mine and no one else's.

  I pull on every reserve I have. I am the Master of this City. No one can get the better of me.

  The door handle shifts beneath her hand and her scent invades my nose. Candied apples and sunshine, honey and Spring. Before I can even stop myself my Sanguis Vitam is across the office floor and caressing up her body. My heart no longer beats, but I have never felt more alive than I do right at this second.

  She strides into my domain, pushing valiantly against my power, making me instantly hard with carnal thoughts.

  “Knock it off, would you!” she demands and my vampyre purrs within.

  “Ah Lucinda, ever the lady I see.” My gaze covers her body in a second, I should take longer to drink her in, but I now must play the game. “I thought you may have missed me and needed a little reminding.”

  God, she is beautiful tonight. Her hair is a little untidy, no doubt from the recent fight. She hasn't bothered to smooth it flat, she doesn't care what I see. I mentally shake my head at her lack of interest, then I chide myself at my desire to twist the strands of that glorious hair in my fingers, to nuzzle my face into the crease at her neck. I surreptitiously clear my throat and return my eyes to her face. Not a hardship.

  “Very funny, Michel, but could you can it for a bit? I can hardly draw a breath.”

  She. Is. Perfect.

  I pull my Sanguis Vitam back reluctantly and without its distracting pleasure against her skin, I notice what I should have noticed as soon as she arrived. She is injured. She is hurt. That fight with the rogue has harmed my Lucinda and I was too busy seeking my own pleasure to have picked up on it before.

  "You are hurt." I vaguely recognise my own voice, then I am beside her in an instant. I don't remember moving, but this close her scent is intoxicating. It takes every ounce of my self control not to give in and bite.

  I reach up before she has a chance to react and stroke her cheek. Fire burns through me and my vampyre growls in response. I ignore its desires and concentrate on the bruising developing on her beautiful face. If she hadn't already have killed that rogue, I would be doing right now. Slowly. Painfully.

  Without realising what I am doing both hands begin to trace each and every blemish that vampyre has made. From her cheek, down her long neck, past the fractured ribs I can sense beneath her rapidly rising and falling chest, to finally rest lightly, reverently, above each hip. I have stopped breathing. I have stopped thinking. I am just responding to the moment with dawning fear.

  “Wh..what did you do?” she stammers and well she might ask.

  I have no idea how I have done it, it is not a talent I have had before. Nor do I believe it is one I could call upon for any other. But somehow, my connection to this Nosferatin has elicited a healing response. My desire - in the moment I recognised her pain from those injuries she had sustained - to heal her was all consuming. So much so, that my body acted of its own accord.

  This is bad. Very bad.

  “You were hurt, my dear. I could not have that," I manage, hearing the cursed French lilt to my words.

  “You heal people now?” she asks, stunned. I can't blame her, I'm a little stunned myself.

  To heal her before we have joined can only mean one thing. If I do not complete this joining before too much longer, I will begin to fall. Somehow the gods have decided that I must join with this woman, but it is not enough for me to already agree with them. They have to make it a death sentence too.

  I vow she will never know the consequences should I not join with her now. It is irrelevant. I will have her. She need not be aware that I will slowly die, if she denies me this. I will not make her suffer that at all.

  “Only when the desire is strong, it would seem." I finally answer her question and then turn to move to my side of the desk.

  I make sure the movement is predatory and sleek. I may not want her to know what rides on the outcome of her accepting me, but I will be damned if she doesn't see what she will miss should she say no.

  When I resume my seat, I can't help myself, but my gaze follows the contour of her body again. This time taking in the crumpled blouse, stretched thinly above her breasts - I strain to see if her nipples are erect - the line of the jacket, hiding silver I am certain she could reach in a flash, to finally her short skirt. It hugs her hips, the exact same hips I recently touched, albeit through the material of her clothes. I fantasise at what furry delight lies beneath her skirt. My fingers flex in response to where my thoughts are heading. I'm glad I'm sitting down behind a desk and she cannot see my immediate response.

  “So, you requested my presence. Here I am.” I smile at her bravado. She has no idea how much of her life I control.

  “Have a seat, my dear. We have much to catch up on.”

  She hesitates, as though she has a choice. Funny girl. She makes me smile further.

  She launches herself at the seat in front of my desk. The movement sensual and unbelievably erotic. I don't think she intended it that way. For someone so petite, she appears as though she is ten feet tall. Her legs, ribbons of hypnotic muscle - which I have visions of wrapped around my waist - fold in on themselves as she lands on the chair seat. Graceful, but in such an unintended way. I know she does not see herself as such, but to me, she is the picture of supple beauty. Exquisite. Divine. Perfection. My God, I want her so much.

  I reach for a bottle of wine and glasses from beneath my desk while she is distracted by the feel of the chair. I had it changed from the one she has sat in before. I wanted her to be enveloped in beauty the next time she sat before me. I smile to myself at her response, the chair fits perfectly. I couldn't have envisaged a better reaction than this. If only she knew the lengths I would go, to make her happy.

  Her hazel eyes open and pierce right through my heart. I reach for the wine in an attempt to hide my reaction, confounded that she has this effect on me at all. She is so pure. So not what I have been attracted to in the past. She is innocent and Light, full of promise and hope. I am jaded and battle-worn, fighting the Dark within on a daily basis. If I allowed myself, right now, to let that Dark in, what would she do? I let a little of my vampyre peek out from behind the closed doors, magenta washing the space between us. She doesn't react. I think my heart just shattered.

  I stand and bring the glass to her, attempting to brush my fingers against hers. She avoids the contact like a seasoned pro. What is wrong with me? I am acting like a love-sick teenager.

  I return to my side of the divide, perhaps space is the answer. The more I place between us, the more I can actually behave like a five hundred year old vampyre and not some besotted imbecile. I curse my reactions and pull on the Dark within to fortify my resolve.

  And then I see her watching me, her hazel eyes devouring the length of my body, a small roll of her bottom lip between her teeth. Mon dieu! She could have me now and I would gladly die the final death for just one taste. The Dark I have called on makes me incline my head, let her know I have seen her interest, reveal how much I am aware of her reactions to my body.

  “So, what did you want to catch up on, Michel?” Her words bring us both back from the edge.

  I take a sip from my glass, to stall and gather my thoughts. There is a reason, other than my fervent desire to be near this woman, that I called her to my side this night.

  "How was your evening?" I ask, calmness returning to my façade. It's all an act, if only she knew.

  She smiles and the room lights up with her. “You're asking me about my evening?”

  I can't help responding to that light, letting my voice reach out and touch every visible point on her skin. And then some. “I would like to know, my dear, that you ar
e well and happy. I'll start with your evening and then progress from there. Or perhaps you would like me to - how do you say? - cut to the chase? If so, then why not come a little closer, there's room enough for two on my chair.”

  Please say yes. My body craves your touch.

  “Very funny. It was eventful, how was yours?”

  My disappointment that she won't play the game is overshadowed by the knowledge of why she has had an eventful night. I must not let her know I am aware of her hunts this evening. To do so, would be to invite her disdain of what I am. I cannot allow for her to pull away. Not now. Not ever.

  “Eventful, how?” I ask.

  She gives up on the wine, I smile. I hadn't thought it possible to relax her with alcohol. My Hunter has more sense than to fall for that trap.

  “I killed three vampires who were preying on innocent lives. One was a level four Master.”

  “The bruises and fractured rib," I offer, determined to distract her from my true desire right now. To reach across the desk and make sure the injuries have in fact disappeared. I curl my fingers around the stem of my glass and will my vampyre to retreat. He is as protective as I.

  The urge to let him loose is all consuming. He growls inside me - with the strength of a dragon - to be released. He whispers to me that she is still hurting. That I haven't, in fact, healed her bruises. That I must touch her again to be sure. It takes all of my formidable will power to ignore his suggestions. Not because I know it is unnecessary, she no longer pains, but because I want to touch her with every fibre of my body and mind.

  “Is there something you're not telling, Michel? What's with all the activity lately? The lack of manners on your turf?”

  The vampyre-within wins the battle momentarily, magenta bathes the room and lands upon Lucinda. The sight of her washed in my vampyre's shade is enough to make me startle. She has not only picked up on my distraction, she has formed a reason for it that is untrue. Can she not see I am upset because of her nearness? Not because of some vampyres who threaten to enter my land.

  I think of an adequate answer, it is better she does not know how she makes me feel. A distraction is required, one that will refocus both of us on the reason why she is here. My Sanguis Vitam flows out from me with infinite ease and care, I ignore the guilt I feel at using this on her and concentrate on the reasons behind it instead.

  “What I am about to tell you must not leave this room, Lucinda. Do you understand? Not even to your shape shifter friend and his kin.”

  "Of course," she answers, a slight crack appearing in her voice. I don't allow myself the luxury of showing any sign of the pain I feel at scaring her. To act as anything other than the Master of this City with her would invoke suspicion. I cannot have her second guessing my desires. Not yet.

  I remove my power and force regret into my features. I don't regret showing strength, I do regret that I cannot confide in her yet.

  “There has been some rumblings in the Iunctio of late. At first I thought nothing of it, but it has traversed the seas and landed upon our shores. A group of vampyre who flout the rules, who wish to take over the night completely.”

  I let my words sink in. She needs to be aware of how much danger she is in. I would move Heaven and Earth to protect her, but even I have limitations. She is capable, I must trust with fair warning, she will be able to defend herself.

  “The revolt was thwarted in London, a similar one barely got started in New York. I had thought we were far enough from the centres of power to avoid attention, but it seems even I cannot keep some things hidden from the Iunctio.”

  I briefly visit the Iunctio now, to ensure nothing new has been posted there. The rumblings I had spoken of were happening everywhere. Not just my land. That was reassuring, to some degree. If it was happening elsewhere, then maybe Lucinda was not in as much danger as I thought. I shook myself and returned my attention to the woman in front of me. An impossible wish, who would not covet my Hunter?

  I had not wanted to admit so much to her yet. I had wanted to keep her in the dark a little longer. But time was no longer on my side. For one, the rumblings were an indication of something much more insidious encroaching on our land. For another, my call to her had just clicked into overdrive. I had to join with her soon. I had to play this just right.

  I wasn't sure if she was ready yet. I wanted fervently to apologise for the pressure I was about to exert in order to get what I wanted, but the Dark inside swelled and my resolve settled into marble and stone. All concern for hiding how in-tune I now was with her, thrown out the window.

  “You should be careful for a short while, my dear. Take extra precautions. Now would not be the time to rush with foolhardiness down dark dead-end alleys.”

  She looks momentarily alarmed. “This is your war, Michel, not mine. I've still got a job to do, no matter how many rogue vamps enter the city, they can't just chow down willy-nilly on my neighbours.” I wince at her reaction, cursing my Dark within.

  It only roars with delight. I am at its mercy now, as much as Lucinda. I will make her mine. I will taste her soon. But not today. Today she must be prepared to fight.

  “It is you they seek, Lucinda. It is you they hunt.”

  Read on for the first chapter of book two in the Kindred Series: Blood Life Seeker.

  Rome

  I could hear the lambs bleating in the fields even before I saw them. Michel knew I liked to hear them. Even if we weren't sharing a bed, he had lately taken great lengths to make sure my dreams were as realistic as possible. Usually, if I was alone in my apartment in my own bed and he was elsewhere when he entered my dreams, the sounds and colours wouldn't have been as bright. But since we joined two weeks ago and then Bonded not long after, it's been easier for him to go for technicolour, surround sound, excellence.

  I didn't mind. I loved being back on my parents' farm.

  Of course, I hadn't always accepted Michel's presence in my dreams quite so easily. I had resented his hold over me, rebelled against it even. But it's not always easy to fight a Master Vampire and especially the Master of the City. And Michel Durand had been nothing if not persistent in his pursuit of me.

  Sometimes, I wonder if what I feel for him is actually real. It feels real, but so much has happened in the past five weeks, I just can't be sure any more.

  The breeze was playing with the long pale lilac skirt of my dress, making it flap delicately around my bare ankles, tickling the sensitive skin in the groove below the bone. Another thing Michel liked in my dreams was long dresses, something I don't normally go for. My usual attire is more black mini skirt, tight fitting black Tee and matching black denim jacket to hide the stakes. But Michel for some reason, liked me to appear a little more dainty, I suppose. Not so Gothic. It was an on-going argument, but I wasn't budging. It's hard to stake the evil undead if you're battling wads of material at your feet.

  I could feel the soft grass of the paddock I always stood in, in these dreams, beneath my bare feet. I wriggled my toes into the soft earth, getting them dirty, but I didn't care. If I couldn't actually get through to see my folks as often as I would have liked these days and recharge my batteries on the farm like I used to, then these dreams had to suffice. Dirt in my toes just felt like home. Home is where I charged my batteries.

  Michel hadn't yet appeared, probably giving me a few moments to soak it all up before he stole my attention. He knew what sort of effect he had on me in these dreams. When he turned up I practically forgot about everything else and would fall into his arms. I'm sure he found it amusing as hell, but he hid it well.

  I sat myself down on the grass, smoothing the skirt under me to avoid creases. Habit, it's a dream, the dress is not real, my upbringing however is. The sun felt good against my bare arms and my face and neck. The dress had a low scooped neckline, baring my shoulders and neck to the heat from the sky. I'm sure that was entirely intentional too. Michel loved to smell the sun on my skin. I guess if you have to avoid it as much as possible like he doe
s, you'd tend to miss it too. Often I felt he was living vicariously through me, but I could hardly blame him. Five hundred years of being undead allowed you a few privileges.

  I took a deep breath in, trying to smell all the freshness, the farmland around me. I could smell the trees and the paddocks and the sweet smell of silage from further fields. It's an acquired taste, but you get used to it. I think I could almost smell the sun, like Michel does, but I'm not sure. I could however smell the sea. There is no sea where my parents' farm is, it's just south of Hamilton, inland in a small farming community called Cambridge. No sea for miles. So, I knew what or who it was. I turned my head and looked over my shoulder to where the fresh salt sea spray was coming from.

  Michel stood a few feet away with his hands in his tight black casual trousers. I didn't know how long he had been standing there, probably a few minutes, just watching. He could have easily hidden his fresh and clean smell from me and only allowed it to enter my mind when he was ready. He controlled these dreams, they were all him.

  The sun sparkled against his bare arms, where his black shirt had been rolled up to reveal well toned forearms. The golden cream of his skin glowing under the rays. He's tall, 6'2” and all long lithe legs and beautiful sculptured muscles. Broad in the shoulders, something I have to admit I love, with his dark brown, almost black, hair lying free around his handsome and strong lined face, just scraping the tops of his shoulders. He usually wore it clipped back at the base of his neck, but he knew I liked it free, so it was always loose here.

  I'd taken my time looking him over, it was always a feast for the eyes when he appeared in my dreams. It's not that he was different as such here, just more. More brilliant. More beautiful. More captivating. More him. He kept his persona well contained in the real world, wore a mask, behaved a certain way. Only those closest to him knew the real Michel. I was just lucky enough to be one of them and even then, sometimes, I think he acted with me. Call me a sceptic, but years of hunting evil undead vampires has not entirely been wiped out by the enthralling presence of Michel in my life.