She always tried to come up with something vague but intriguing like that to preface her songs. Viewers ate it up, speculating about her life. She didn’t want them to know how lame it really was. It just so happened that today she actually did meet some mysterious guy who made her question everything she believed.
She thought about Rowan as she sang the haunting tune she’d written that talked about encounters with seductive strangers, stolen kisses in dark alleys, and forbidden love. When the song was done, she played the recording and was surprised at how good it was. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she really did have a secret lover out there who had enchanted her.
She liked to think her lyrics were creative and her song-writing skills made her more than just one of a million other girls with a nice voice. Her videos always got a decent number of views and a lot of great comments, but so far, no one important had noticed her.
She posted the video to her YouTube account then went on Facebook to share it there. She didn’t have that many friends, but every bit of exposure helped. She scrolled a little bit to see what people were up to, her finger swiping mindless past one enviable post after another — college graduations, exotic trips, engagements, new apartments — it seemed like everyone she knew was doing a lot better than she was. But then, they had a better head start.
Most of the kids who went to her high school had gone on to college and were getting good jobs, so they could afford nice apartments in the city, new cars, and vacations to places Zoë could only dream about. But Zoë was doing the best she could with what she had, which was nothing.
Irritated with herself for getting so jealous, she closed the app and went back to YouTube to see if her latest song had gotten any views yet. Five already. Not too bad. She couldn’t resist searching for the video of Rowan, and she had to blink a couple times to make sure there wasn’t something in her eye when she saw the number of views it had. This might turn out to be bigger than she ever imagined.
Chapter 4
Zoë’s eyes popped open way earlier than usual, and she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and opened up YouTube. She intended to check on her latest song first, she really did, but all thoughts of it immediately flew from her mind when she saw the third video on the Trending page. Holy hell, Daphne was right. The internet was eating this up like Halloween candy.
Zoë jumped out of bed and pounded on Daphne’s door. She knew she was risking her wrath, waking her up that early, but she had to tell someone. When Daphne grunted, Zoë pushed open the door and dropped down on Daphne’s bed.
“Daphne, wake up. You have to see this!” Zoë shook her sister’s shoulder till she flipped over, a scowl and last night’s makeup smeared on her face. Didn’t she know that was bad for her skin? But Daphne was probably too drunk to think about proper skin care when she came stumbling in at 3 o’clock in the morning.
“What do you want, bitch?” Daphne grumbled and yanked on the twisted sheets. Zoë lifted herself up for a second so Daphne could right them then sat back down.
“I posted that video, and it has a hundred thousand views already. Look.” Zoë held out the phone, and Daphne squinted then rubbed her eyes, smudging her mascara.
Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the phone. “Holy shit, Zo, that’s crazy! I told you it would go viral.”
Zoë’s lip curled in a small smile, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Look at all the comments. People really believe he’s a vampire. And they have all these questions.”
“Like what?” Daphne started scrolling.
“Like what his name is, how old is he, where he’s being held, how many other vampires are there — stuff like that.”
Daphne handed the phone back and pulled herself up with a grunt. “You have to work this, Zoë. Get him talking and take another video of him.”
Could she? He’d seemed willing to talk to her yesterday. Maybe he wouldn’t share his secrets, but any footage would probably get a lot of views, especially if this video did. The idea of secretly recording him excited her, or maybe it was just the thought of talking to him again. He scared her and fascinated her at the same time.
She hurried to get ready, taking a little extra time on her appearance, hoping that would make Rowan more interested in her, more willing to talk. She didn’t usually wear makeup to work, but she swiped some mascara over her light eyelashes and penciled in her brows. She coated her lips with a natural-looking berry color and put a swirl of blush on her cheeks, although she had a feeling she’d be blushing naturally if she worked up the nerve to go talk to him.
She put on jeans again but picked a fitted, pink shirt that emphasized her curves a little more, leaving several buttons open so a tiny vee of cleavage peeked out. Then she put a few waves in her hair that looked casual but made the ends curl around the sides of her breasts, emphasizing her curves.
She checked herself out in the mirror one last time before leaving, trying to decide if she looked like she was trying too hard. But when Daphne wandered into the bathroom and stood next to her in last night’s party clothes, she decided she still looked tame in comparison. Daphne didn’t even notice the extra effort she’d put in, so probably no one else would either.
When she got to work, she couldn’t resist heading for the solitary confinement cell to make sure Rowan was still there. He laid on his bunk, eyes closed and body still like he was asleep, but as soon as Zoë stepped closer to the cell, his dark eyes popped open. She gasped and took a step back but didn’t run.
“Good morning. What a lovely sight to wake up to.” His voice purred, vibrating against her skin and making it pebble with goose bumps.
Sure enough, her cheeks started burning. She dipped her head and stared at her Chucks. He’d noticed. Did he think she’d made the extra effort for him?
He sat up and put his feet on the ground but didn’t move any closer. “I thought I’d frightened you away.”
In the safety of her own home last night, she couldn’t remember why she’d been so scared of him, but seeing him again gave her the same conflicting feelings. There was something about him that warned of danger, even though there was nothing scary about his appearance. But at the same time, he drew her in, like a moth to a flame. She couldn’t admit any of that to him, though.
She pushed the wooden handle of her broom forward. “I have to sweep over here. It’s my job.”
He smiled at her like he knew that was only a tiny part of the truth. “Will you sing while you sweep, Zoë? I’d love to hear you again.”
She could do that. She sang all the time while she worked. Maybe he’d be willing to talk later if she warmed him up first. “What would you like to hear?”
“What were you singing yesterday? It was lovely.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared back at him for a long moment. Finally, she whispered, “It’s called ‘Stolen Kisses.’”
He pinched his brow, tilted his head, and stared off into the distance like he was trying to place the name then shook his head. “I didn’t recognize it. Who sings it?”
She bit her lip and stared at the floor. “Me. I mean, it was a song I wrote.”
That caught his attention, and he stood up and moved towards her. “You write your own songs? Have you recorded any of them?”
She shrugged and shook her head. “I post them on YouTube, and I get some views, but that’s all. I’m nobody special.”
He stared at her, his gaze so intense she felt like he could see all the way into her soul. “I disagree with that. I’d love to hear the song again. Would you sing it for me?”
Her heart fluttered. Why did he have to ask for that one? The words made it sound like it was about him. But he’d heard her sing it yesterday when he was brought in, so he knew she’d written it way before she ever met him.
She’d posted a video of herself singing the song on YouTube for anyone in the world to see. She could sing it for him. No big deal. She started sweeping so she wouldn’t have to look at
him and let the words flow from her lips.
When she got up the nerve to peek at him, he had his eyes closed and was swaying in time with the music. When the song ended, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. “That was beautiful. Thank you. You’re very talented, Zoë. I’m sure someday others will recognize that.”
His voice was soft, polite, gentlemanly. Nothing like the raving animal she’d seen on the video. He was a dichotomy she couldn’t wrap her head around. She was desperate to know more about him.
“What about you? What do you do?” She blurted out then cringed. Did she want to know the answer to that? “For fun, I mean.”
He chuckled under his breath. “I enjoy music. I play several instruments, and I love to dance. I love art, literature, nature. Anything that stirs the soul.”
She shook her head slowly. His answer only made her more confused. But before she had a chance to question him more, his eyes widened and he stiffened. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
Something about the tone of his voice stopped her from asking questions. She nodded and quickly pushed her broom around the corner. An officer was coming down the hall with a brunette woman in a pretty, cream-colored suit and low heels that made tiny clicks on the hard floor as she walked. They were talking quietly, and Zoë couldn’t hear what they were saying till she was right next to them. Once they’d passed her, she turned her head and saw them round the corner towards Rowan. How did he know they were coming? Even if he’d heard their footsteps, how did he know they were heading for him?
She ducked around a corner and waited to see what they were doing. A few moments later, the officer strode past, but the woman wasn’t with him. Was she the psychiatrist, here for the consult? Curiosity flamed in Zoë’s chest and shot through her body, propelling her forward. She had to hear what they were saying. She scurried back down the hallway and stood as close to the corner as she could get without revealing herself, holding the broom so she could start sweeping if anyone passed by.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Levensen. How are you today, Mr. Eiris? Did you sleep well? Have you eaten?” The psychiatrist’s voice oozed with fake friendliness.
“I slept, and I was given breakfast. I’m doing as well as can be, considering.” Rowan’s tone made it sound like he’d rather skip the small talk.
The psychiatrist shuffled some papers. “Good, good. I’m glad to hear that. Mr. Eiris, tell me a little bit about yourself. Are you married? Do you have children?”
Zoë held her breath, straining to hear his reply. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke that only ratcheted up her curiosity. When he finally replied, sorrow tinged his words. “I had a mate once. She passed away a few years ago. No children.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Rowan. May I call you Rowan?”
He must’ve nodded, because the psychiatrist kept talking. Zoë took a step closer, wishing she could peek around the corner and see his face.
“What about family? Are you close to anyone?”
“My family is long gone.”
“So you’re all alone.” The psychiatrist’s voice reflected the same sympathy that Zoë suddenly felt for him.
“I’ve grown used to it.” His voice was hard and emotionless now, like his shield had slipped but he’d righted it.
The psychiatrist took the hint and moved on to less personal questions. “Where do you work, Rowan?”
“Nowhere.”
“Did you work somewhere in the past?”
He sighed. “At the hospital, in the blood bank. I left my job a few months ago.”
The woman was quiet for a moment, and Zoë wondered if the psychiatrist found that as interesting as she did.
Rowan spoke up. “Look, why don’t we get to the crux of the matter? You want to know what possessed me to drink from that accident victim. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not Renfield’s or any other psychological disorder. I have a medical condition that requires frequent ingestion of human blood. In the past, I procured blood from the hospital, but I’ve gone without since I left there, and my body is failing. When I saw that accident, I approached, hoping to help the victims. But my need overwhelmed me, and I took advantage of the opportunity.”
Zoë’s eyes widened at his admission, but his explanation seemed reasonable. Could he really have a medical problem that caused him to act that way? It would explain the contradiction between the wild man on the video and the soft-spoken gentleman who loved art and music. She believed him when he said he intended to help the victims. That seemed more like him.
“Mr. Eiris, there are no medical conditions that require the ingestion of blood.” The psychiatrist’s voice was condescending, like she was trying to talk sense into a crazy person, but Rowan hadn’t sounded crazy at all. He sounded intelligent.
“Dr. Levensen, are you aware that more than 40 new diseases have been discovered since the 1970s? SARS, MERS, Ebola, Chikungunya, just to name a few. Do you really believe we’ve discovered them all? Just because the medical community hasn’t given a name to my condition yet doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
His condition did have a name, but it wasn’t one the world was willing to accept. Vampirism.
A door swung open, and an officer started walking towards Zoë, so she quickly pushed her broom down the hall. By the time he went back into his office, the psychiatrist had emerged. Zoë followed behind her, anxious to hear what she had to say about Rowan.
Chapter 5
Rowan paced back and forth in his cell, avoiding the patch of bright sunlight streaming through the window. Why, he didn’t know. He’d intended to immolate himself before; what was stopping him from doing it now?
It was the challenge that stirred his interest, awakened a new desire. They’d taken the control away from him, and he didn’t want to surrender. His life held no meaning anymore, and he had no motivation left for living. But now, in the bright light of day, that seemed like a pathetic excuse to end a centuries-long life. The universe had granted him immortality. How could he throw it away just because he’d lost the will to live?
He’d get himself released then decide whether or not to end his life. He wouldn’t do it in front of them. Although it would be entertaining to watch their reaction if he disappeared from his cell, leaving nothing but a pile of ash. But if he did that, he wouldn’t get to see their faces, so where was the fun in that?
Hopefully, he’d done a good enough job convincing the psychiatrist that he was lucid, if not exactly normal. If she said he was deranged, they’d send him to the psych ward. Then he’d be poked and prodded till he convinced them he was sane. His body wouldn’t last that long. His hunger would take over, and he’d do something regrettable. No, he needed to be released on bail. Then he could disappear.
He heard footsteps coming towards him, the soft, rubber footfalls of the cleaning girl. Zoë. She was another motivation. Unlike the girl from the accident, Zoë looked nothing like Anna, but she still charmed him. She was enchanting and had a sweet innocence that made him long for something he could never have. And her singing reminded him of Anna. It brought back memories both beautiful and haunting.
The girl poked her head around the corner, and her doe-like, blue eyes widened at the sight of him staring right at her. She was scared of him, obviously, but her fear wasn’t strong enough to squelch her curiosity.
“Hello, Zoë.”
“Hi.” She padded towards him, trying to hide her soft curves behind the skinny handle of her broom. She stared at him nervously for a moment.
“I overheard some of what you told the psychiatrist,” she said, but she didn’t admit the full truth — she’d been hiding around the corner the whole time. He’d heard the soft sound of her breathing and her footsteps as she snuck close enough to listen. Rowan’s lip curled.
“And what did you think?” He shouldn’t toy with her like that, but it amused him.
“I think you must be very lonely.” Her soft words hit him hard, and his head bowed. How easil
y she’d seen to the heart of his troubles, the reason why he had no will to live.
He was all alone in the world now — no mate, no children, no one else of his kind, as far as he knew. There might be other vampires out there, but he’d never met one besides Anna.
Zoë crept closer and laid her hands on the horizontal bar that bisected his cell. “I’m sorry about your wife. How… how did she die?”
Rowan took a step towards her but resisted the urge to touch her hand or reach out and stroke her soft hair. His body and his mind both wanted to connect with her in some way, but that wouldn’t be prudent, not when his hunger reared it’s head at the smell of her.
“My mate, Anna, had the same… condition as me, and she died from sun exposure.”
Zoë’s face wrinkled in sympathy, and she reached out like she wanted to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Rowan. That must’ve been terrible. And you never had any kids?”
Anna had told him that any children they had would be born vampires. He didn’t want to curse them with this life. It was something they’d argued about, and now he wished he’d let her win. At least then he’d have some part of her left.
“No. We didn’t want to risk passing on the gene to children. Our condition is rare, and there’s no known cure.”
“Will you die if you don’t drink blood?” Zoë whispered the question as if that would lessen its significance. He smiled at her bravery.
“Eventually, though it takes a long time. I’ve gone without blood for several months now, and I’m still here, but my body is quite weakened.”
He wrapped his hands around the steel bars and gave a gentle tug. Zoë watched him carefully. Did he dare admit the truth to her? For some reason, he desperately wanted to confide in someone. It had been too long since he’d had anyone to talk to, anyone who knew his secrets. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he could trust her. She was no threat to him.
“When my body was at full strength I could’ve pulled these bars apart wide enough to walk through them.”
Captured by the Vampire: Vampire Enforcement Agency Series Prequel Page 3
