“Rowan, drink.”
He didn’t even pause to contemplate her command, just rushed towards her and grabbed her arm, shoving it to his mouth. His lips wrapped around the wound and pulled, drawing her blood into his body.
Suddenly, a rush of euphoria hit her, blocking out the pain. Her whole body crackled with a current of electricity that made her shake. She had no idea it would feel like this, but she wanted more. She pressed her body up against the bars and writhed, desperate for more contact. Did Rowan feel this, too?
He reached for her, sliding a hand around her hip and pulling her against him, pressing his own body to the other side of the bars. She panted and moaned, and her head lolled as the pleasure intoxicated her. Every nerve ending sizzled. She lifted her free hand to touch him but dropped it before she made contact, afraid to hurt his burnt flesh.
Rowan kept sucking, never letting up, taking drag after drag of her blood as it pulsed from her body. She felt lightheaded and dizzy, but she couldn’t tell if it was from blood loss or the incredible sensations that coursed through her. When her body swayed, she grabbed ahold of him to steady herself and realized his skin felt normal.
She ran her fingers up his side. Where were the blisters and oozing flesh she’d seen earlier? He didn’t cry out at in pain at her touch, so she splayed her hand against his skin. It was warm and smooth and firm, wrapped tight around his muscles. His own hand stroked up and down her back, her waist, her hips.
The pleasure didn’t abate; it just kept coming like the tide, crashing over her again and again till her body couldn’t stand it anymore. But just as her legs started to give out under her, a strong hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked at her.
She cried out as her body flailed across the hall and crumpled to the ground. Her bones rattled against the cold, hard concrete. She looked up to see Officer Jenson huffing and snarling over her, his red hair like a flame spouting from his head.
That was when he noticed the boxcutter lying on the ground. His eyes flicked from it to her wrist. Blood was smeared around the wound, and streaks ran down her fingers. She pressed a hand to her wrist to cover it.
“You did this on purpose. You wanted him to drink from you! What kind of disgusting whore are you? I can’t believe you let this monster touch you!”
He stomped over to her, hands on his hips, looming like he was the monster, crudely disguised in a police uniform, his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving. He kicked at her, and she shrieked in pain as his heavy, leather boot made contact with her knee. “Get up, you nasty bitch!”
When Jenson reached for her, grabbing her by her hair, Rowan’s howl tore through the air, ricocheting off the concrete walls. His body was almost healed, and for once he looked fierce and dangerous. He jumped up and kicked both legs against the door of his cell, giving another roar as it flung open. It clanged against the cell bars then swung back and forth on twisted hinges, squealing.
Jenson jolted as Rowan came charging for him, but Rowan was on him in a heartbeat. He grabbed him and growled in his face, baring his fangs, his eyes burning with rage like the tip of a lit cigarette. He lifted Jenson up until his feet were off the ground. Jenson’s face contorted in fear, and his whole body shook.
“Don’t ever touch her again! She’s mine!” Rowan’s voice was a demon’s growl.
He hurled Jenson to the end of the hall. His body slammed against the wall and dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Jenson clutched his chest, gasping for air, then grabbed the radio on his belt and started stuttering into it.
“Zoë, are you okay?” Rowan was by her side in an instant. His hands hovered over her, and his face twisted at the sight of her. He didn’t bother asking if she could walk, just bent down and scooped her up in his arms like she weighed nothing. He took off running, so fast that everything around them blurred. She heard voices calling out in surprise as they rushed by, navigating through the halls of the police station.
“Go left!” she called out, directing him towards the back exit.
Rowan weaved and swerved, dodging people, but his feet barely touched the ground, making it feel like they were flying. His arms held tight to Zoë, cradling her firmly but gently. She wrapped an arm around his neck and buried her face in his chest so the motion wouldn’t make her sick.
She tensed when they crashed through the heavy doors leading outside and the warm sun hit her body. Rowan’s naked flesh started sizzling.
Chapter 14
Rowan’s eyes scanned his surroundings as quick as lightning, searching for a safe place for them. There were a half dozen police cars parked in the back lot, but since the last one he’d been in didn’t have tinted windows, he doubted any of these did, either.
To his right was a busy street lined with businesses. He couldn’t go that way. He was wearing only boxers, and his skin would be charred by the time he reached one of the buildings. A patch of woods lay to his left, and the dense foliage offered a place to hide from the sun and their pursuers. It was his only option.
He darted into the trees, quickly losing sight of the police station. He didn’t think anyone had seen him enter the woods, so hopefully he’d bought them a few minutes. He zigzagged through the woods, stepping on fallen trees and swinging from branches to avoid leaving footprints.
Streaks of sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy, and he avoided those, too, keeping to the shadows. Despite the fact he was naked, out in bright daylight, and running from the police, he savored the feel of Zoë’s body in his arms, her soft hair tickling his side, her hands clinging to him. It took all his willpower to resist the urge to stop and kiss her again, or take her vein.
The taste of her blood still lingered in his mouth, the scent of her swirled around them in a cloud, wafting from her open wound, and his mind was filled with thoughts of sucking the blood that oozed from it. The memory of that experience would forever evoke the rush of euphoria he had felt while feeding from her.
He still couldn’t believe she’d done that, cut open her own wrist to entice him away from the window. He couldn’t deny it anymore. No matter how implausible it was, how impossible, Zoë cared for him. She might even love him.
He hated himself for inspiring those feelings in her at the same time he reveled in them. He loved her; wasn’t it better if she loved him back? If she did, he could fantasize about the possibility of keeping her.
It was wrong of him to think it, even worse to want it so badly, and the most horrible thing he could do would be to ask her to stay with him, but he knew he was going to do it. He would explain to her why it was for the best, give her reasons she couldn’t refute, promise to keep her safe, and it would all be true, but it was still the most selfish thing he could ever do to her.
Right now, though, he would focus on getting them out of there. He slowed to a stop and lowered Zoë to the ground under the shade of a large tree. Then he stood still for a moment, listening carefully for sounds of anyone approaching. He didn’t hear anything but the sounds of nature, so hopefully they were safe for a few minutes.
“Zoë, are the windows in your car tinted?” he whispered.
She shook her head, probably too stunned to speak. Her normally bright eyes drooped, and the dark circles under them stood out against skin that was too pale. She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. He winced as guilt slammed into him. She was like that because of him. He’d taken too much blood from her.
“Okay. Listen. They’re going to have a search party out for us very soon if they don’t already. My house is too far away for me to run to in the sun, especially with no clothes on. How far away is yours?”
“It takes me about 5 minutes to drive there,” she managed to squeak out.
“Can we go there? I won’t stay long, I just need to get some clothes or a blanket or something.” He gestured towards his naked body, wishing he’d never torn off his clothes and thrown himself in front of the window.
But yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the
chain of events that followed. Zoë had sacrificed herself for him, letting him know how she felt about him, and he’d drunk from her, fulfilling his fantasy. But now they had to deal with the aftermath.
“My mother will be there, and maybe my sister, but I don’t care.”
He dropped to his knees and cupped her cheek. Here she was, sacrificing herself for him again. They needed to have an important conversation, but it would have to wait till later. For now, he would take advantage of her willingness to help him.
He moved to pick her up again, but she grabbed onto his arms and pulled herself upright, carefully putting weight on her sore knee, testing it. “I think I can walk.”
He shook his head. “Your body’s weak from so much blood loss, and I need to go fast, Zoë. I’ll only last a few minutes in the sunlight. You can ride on my back if you prefer.” He preferred to hold her in his arms, but he wanted her to feel comfortable.
She blushed like she could read his thoughts. Or maybe hers were the same. The idea of that warmed him. “Whatever’s easier for you.”
He smiled and scooped her up in his arms. “Where to?”
“The trailer park on Benton Avenue. The fourth trailer on the right. The blue and gray one.”
That trailer park was a rundown slum, populated by drug addicts, prostitutes, and other dredges of society. His eyes narrowed at the thought of her living there, but maybe not for long.
He took off running again, staying in the woods as long as he could to avoid the sunlight. Once they left the cover of the trees, he ran faster than ever, leaping and bounding like a gazelle. He ran so fast, he doubted anyone could see them. They might feel a rush of wind or see a blur of movement, but most wouldn’t notice.
His skin seared under the blazing, summer sun, but they were at her door in less than a minute. The faded, weathered trailer slumped on its cinder block supports, and a ring of brown rust surrounded the door and windows. Did they even open? Zoë turned the knob, and the door swung open with a creak. Rowan stepped inside, reveling in the darkness.
A thin, haggard woman sat in a grungy recliner, staring at an old television. Her frazzled hair was streaked with gray, but much blonder than Zoë’s, and her face was wrinkled and sallow, unlike Zoë’s milky complexion. He never would’ve guessed they were related. She jerked when she saw him. “Zoë?”
“Mom, this is Rowan.”
Rowan saw it the moment the truth registered. The woman’s bloodshot eyes bulged, and she leapt from the chair and backed herself into a corner, knocking over her tray table and scattering cigarette ashes and empty cans. “What are you doing bringing that monster into my house?”
“He’s not a monster. And I’m… helping him.”
Her mother spotted Zoë’s bleeding wrist then, and she gasped and shrieked. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
Zoë didn’t wait for her mother to answer, she just grabbed his hand and pulled him down a hallway. But he could hear the woman ranting and raving, pacing back and forth in the living room. On the way, they passed another room where a girl slightly older than Zoë sprawled on a bed, wearing nothing but risqué lingerie.
When they entered Zoë’s bedroom, her scent perfumed every inch of the space, from the sparse collection of clothes hanging in the small closet to the colorful pillows piled on her twin-size bed. Rowan breathed in deeply, savoring the tempting aroma.
Zoë shut the door behind them, locking it, trapping him. The tiny room had barely enough space for the two of them. Her proximity and her intoxicating scent overwhelmed him, making his body shudder with desire. Now that he’d tasted her, he wanted her even more.
She bit her lip and stared at him then sat down on the rumpled bed, putting a little more space between them. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to desensitize himself to the burn.
Blood was still dripping from her wound, so he grabbed a scarf hanging from a knob of her dresser and wrapped it around her wrist, tying it tight.
Her mother pounded on the door. “What are you doing in there? Get that vampire out of my house!”
They both glanced worriedly at the door, then he whispered, “I can’t stay here long, I need to disappear. The police know I took you, so they’ll come here to question your family, if your mother hasn’t already called them. I’m not sure what will happen to you if you stay, Zoë. There’s no precedent. But they might try to charge you with aiding and abetting a fugitive. You’re probably going to lose your job, and your name will be dragged through the mud.”
“What if I don’t stay?” Her voice was soft, tentative, her eyes beseeching as she stroked her comforter. Was she really asking what he thought she was?
“What do you mean?”
“What if I go with you?” Her eyes gazed into his, begging him not to reject her again.
All his hopes and dreams flashed before him with that simple question. He’d planned to entice her, but here she was, offering herself freely. There was nothing he wanted more than to take her from this place.
She didn’t belong here, in this hovel. She was like a rare flower, blooming from a crack in the asphalt. She couldn’t thrive here anymore than he could in prison. He stepped closer, hovering over her, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’d take care of you and do everything I could to keep you safe.”
She smiled and nodded like she trusted him implicitly. He would forever strive to deserve that trust.
“Where will we go?”
The word “we” inflated his chest like a pump, making his heart float in the air-filled cavity.
“I’d like to go to Modesa. I’ve never met any other vampires. I think I can hide there safely.”
Her mother pounded on the door again, screeching. “Zoë Elonda, get out here!”
Zoë stood up, leaving only inches between them. His heart stuttered at her nearness, and his breath grew ragged. She stared at him for a moment then turned and dug a bag from her closet. She opened a drawer and grabbed a handful of undergarments, tossing them in the bag, then pulled a dozen articles of clothing from the closet, folded them, and placed them in the duffel.
Chapter 15
Zoë handed him a long sleeve, gray tee shirt and a pair of black lounge pants, trying not to think too hard about what she was about to do, as her mother pounded on the door again. “Put these on. There’s a motel not too far from here. I have some money. We can hide out there till the sun goes down.”
Rowan pulled on the clothes. The shirt was tight against his trim muscles, and the pants, which were baggy on her, fit him snugly and were too short. But overall, he didn’t look too crazy. She didn’t have any shoes that would come close to fitting his feet, so he’d have to go without. She gave him a pair of black socks, instead, and a ball cap.
When she reached for the doorknob, he laid a firm hand on hers, stopping her. “Are you sure about this, Zoë?”
She’d wanted to make something of herself, do something special, and leaving with him meant giving up any chance at pursuing her old goals. But she’d already sealed her own fate when she let him drink from her, and she didn’t regret what she’d done. Revealing the truth about vampires to the world so they could come out of hiding, saving him — those were things she could be proud of, even if the world saw her as a criminal.
He still needed her, at least for blood, and she wanted to be with him. If he was willing to take her with him, she was going to go. Maybe someday he’d develop the same feelings for her that she had for him. What did she have to lose? This crappy trailer? Her minimum wage job? The dozen credits she’d earned at the community college?
“I have no reason to stay and every reason to leave,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded then let go of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pulled the door open. Her mother was pacing up and down the hallway, running her fingers through her wild hair, and her sister was standing in her doorway in her underwear, looking con
fused. Zoë charged past them, stopping just long enough to tell her sister to look after their mother. Daphne gawked at Rowan, and her mother hustled towards them, screeching, but Rowan picked her up and raced out of the trailer.
He must’ve known where the motel was, because he headed straight for it, avoiding the roads by cutting through properties, but going so fast no one would see them, anyway. Zoë closed her eyes against the blurred world rushing past her and concentrated on the way his arms caged her snugly against his chest. She felt safe with him.
Rowan slowed when they reached the crumbling parking lot of the dilapidated, old motel. A half-lit, red motel sign with an arrow pointed towards a building with peeling, aluminum siding that probably used to be white a long time ago. He set her down next to the front door. She tried to peek through the glass door into the office, but cloudy streaks, fingerprints, and a spiderweb of cracks made it hard to see.
Rowan pressed himself against the building under the narrow overhang while Zoë went inside to book a room. A bell hanging from the door hinge clanged as she entered, startling her, and a short, middle-aged Indian man behind the counter gave her a curious once-over. He looked surprised when she wanted the room for the night and not just an hour.
Zoë counted out the money and traded it for a key dangling from a red, plastic keychain that said, “Hideaway Motel.” A laugh burst out of her, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle it as she pushed through the door, the bell clanging behind her.
“Room 108.” She held up the keychain to Rowan.
He nodded and started walking around the building, staying under the awning. “Did the clerk act like he recognized you?”
“No, I’ve never been here before.” She shook her head, but then it dawned on her what he meant. He was a fugitive, and the police knew she was with him. Her face would probably be on the news soon.
Captured by the Vampire: Vampire Enforcement Agency Series Prequel Page 8
