by Susan Harris
Now the fans had left, leaving Donnie alone in the bar with only the thoughts in his head. They were so loud he wanted to stab something sharp into his brain to dull them.
Abandoned. Unloved. Alone. Washed-up. Pathetic. Orphan.
The same things over and over until he slammed the empty pint glass down on the bar and it smashed. Glass cut through his palm, and the pain calmed the voice. It wanted his blood, it sang for it—a siren song that lured him to the water’s edge, threatening to drag him under once and for all.
The doctors had told him this would be his last season. Far too many knocks to the head, they’d said. But without the game, Donnie had nothing. He was alone in the world apart from playing rugby. At barely twenty-nine years old, he was about to retire, and he would be alone with nothing more than his thoughts for company.
Donnie jerked upright, and the barstool crashed to the ground. Staggering away, his legs buckled, and he reached out for something to grab. Unfortunately, he grasped hold of a Dublin native who had taken the day’s loss personally.
“Look, it’s the great Donald O’Carroll, gracing us with his presence,” the man sneered, and his companions snickered.
“Fuck off, ya jackeen bastard.” The words slipped free of Donnie’s lips, and the man’s face reddened with anger.
Before the man could start anything, Donnie pushed away from him and stumbled for the door. He breached the threshold, but his feet tangled and he landed on the ground with a thud. He felt something twist in his hand, but he was so drunk that he felt no pain. Turning over, he lay down as rain hit him hard in the face and laughed, though he was unsure as to why.
Donnie barely heard the door open behind him as he lay on the cobbled streets of Temple Bar, the skies opening above him and soaking him through to the bone.
“Look at the almighty Donald O’Carroll lying in the gutter, just like his mam left him on the day he was born!”
Rage flooded his veins at the stark reminder of both his birth and the death of his teenage mother, too ashamed to seek help after giving birth to her baby down a Cork City alley. Her family hadn’t wanted a bastard child to bring shame to their good name. Growing up in foster care had only added to his anger and self-loathing.
He growled and lifted off the ground, his fists clenching. As he made to punch the sneering Dub, the native sidestepped, sending Donnie crashing to the ground. A boot connected with his stomach, and he groaned in pain before vomiting all over someone’s shoes.
“Now that’s just fucking rude, Donnie lad. We should make ya lick it clean.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he replied as he rose to his knees.
The Dubliner smacked him, open-palmed, across the face, hard enough to draw blood from Donnie’s lip. Donnie spat the blood on the ground, and like a madman, grinned up at his assailant, bloody mouth and all.
“Resorting to a bitch slap; that’s low, man. C’mon, at least grow some balls and hit me like a man. I’ve been spanked harder than that.”
His comments were answered with a boot to the face, followed by swift kicks from the other men with the Dubliner. Dizziness made him nauseated, and he closed his eyes to calm the feeling. When he felt himself being pulled along, Donnie opened his eyes long enough to realise he was being dragged down an alley.
He knew, in that exact moment, that he was going to die.
The kicks came more frequently now—to his stomach, chest, and his head. He lost count of how many times he blacked out. It hurt to breathe, and he could taste blood in his mouth. After what seemed like an age, two of the men backed away, and he heard one say, “Come on, Damo. You’re gonna kill him.”
He received one final boot, this time to his face, and felt bone crunch—he had broken his nose so many times he knew the feeling instantly—but his entire body hurt so much that a broken nose was the least of his worries.
He couldn’t help but think it ironic he would die in a darkened alley, leaving the world as he’d been brought in—alone and bloody.
Donnie opened his eyes to gaze once more on the sky before he died, but instead his eyes locked onto gunmetal grey eyes looking down at him. She was so beautiful, this angel who had come to take his life. Or perhaps she was a devil, a leather-clad one with skin so pale he wanted to reach out and touch it.
He felt his arm lift of its own accord, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that gurgled from his lips was blood.
“Please do not speak. I will ask you a question, and if you say yes then you and I will be forever tied together. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand me?”
Through the pain, he blinked slowly at the angel.
“I can save your life, but it will not be the life you imagined you would live. Would you be willing to live another life for the chance to see another sunset?”
His thoughts were muddled—a combination of the drink and the beating he had just taken—but he felt his lids close and slowly open again on their own, as if he had no control over his response.
The dark-haired angel gave him a small, sad smile and said, “I do hope you can forgive me once you are reborn. And that you do not resent me for this.”
Hypnotized by her actions, Donnie watched as she scored her wrist and knelt down, holding the wound against his lips. He was unsure what to do, but his mouth opened of its own accord, and when the first taste of her blood hit his throat, it burned with exquisite fire. He wanted more and wanted less at the same time.
Just when he felt full of delicious nectar, she pulled her wrist away, and he felt like he was drowning. His body trembled, and a new pain ripped through him. He longed to scream out, the woman’s delicate hands on his neck the only thing stopping him. She muttered something as her fingers grazed his skin, and then his angel twisted sharply, and Donnie was dead.
He knew no more until he woke up, cuddled against Caitlyn’s body in the dirt, the hunger burning in his veins.
A polite knock sounded at his bedroom door before the handle twisted. A girl in her mid-twenties came into the room, already stripping off her jacket to reveal a camisole top. She quickly walked over to Donnie’s bed, perched on the edge, and tilted her neck to the side.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Anything for Ms. Hardi.”
Positioning Caitlyn in his lap, he tried rousing her, but she remained still. Releasing his fangs, he sank them into the girl’s neck, and she exhaled in pleasure. He took a quick drag and then pulled back. As easily as he could, Donnie put Caitlyn’s mouth to the girl’s neck, moistening her lips with blood.
She wrapped her legs around his waist as the scent and taste of blood brought her monster to the surface. Caitlyn’s hand snaked around the other side of the girl’s face and yanked her closer. Donnie watched as Caitlyn swallowed, trying to ignore her moving against him. His hands moved to her waist, and a groan worked up Caitlyn’s throat.
The girl’s heart began to slow as Caitlyn continued to suck from the vein.
“That’s enough, Cait. You’ll kill her.”
Caitlyn growled in response but didn’t loosen her grip on the girl.
Donnie slowly wrapped his hand around Caitlyn’s neck and pulled her free of the girl. Caitlyn snarled at him, her eyes blood red as the hunger had its taste of fresh blood and wanted more, wanted to drain the girl of her life and rejoice in it. Caitlyn reached out to slap Donnie away, but he grasped her wrist and shouted, “Go!” at the poor girl.
She didn’t need telling twice and scurried from the room, her neck still bleeding. He should go after her, stop the bleeding, but he had his hands full with the angry she-vamp still in his lap.
“More!” she screamed.
“Nah, I’m cutting you off, Cait. Think you’ve had enough.”
She shrieked and launched herself at him, pinning him to the bed. Under normal circumstances, Donnie would have been happy, but Cait would be pissed at herself for letting herself go like this, for losing control.
Striking
like a cobra, Caitlyn sank her fangs into his own throat, and he felt his body react. Goddammit, she was making this hard… no fucking pun intended.
Donnie twisted their bodies so he was on top of her, his thighs pinning her legs as she thrashed free of his neck and snapped her teeth at him.
“Damn it, Cait. C’mon. Behave now, or you’ll be pissed at yourself in the morning.”
“Worthless excuse for a vampire! I should have let you die like the trash you are.”
He grinned down at her. “You know I like it when you insult me. Makes me know you care.”
“I will stake you if you do not leave me go, Donald O’Carroll. LET. ME. GO!” she roared, bucking against him.
He hadn’t seen her like this—lost to the bloodlust, unable to reason with—in quite a while. He had no clue how to handle her. So, Donnie did the one thing he knew would probably piss her off more than the bloodlust. He kissed her. He crushed his lips to hers, tasting his blood on her lips.
She struggled against him for a second, then opened her mouth, her tongue meeting his with equal hunger. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms locked around his neck. He continued to kiss her the way he had wanted to do for twenty years, as if their first kiss would also be their last.
Let him sink into you and take the pain away. You can hate yourself tomorrow. Now, just let him numb everything… let yourself go.
Donnie jerked away from her, hurt twisting in the heart that no longer beat.
Caitlyn looked up at him, shame flashing in her now normal grey eyes. She clasped a hand over her mouth and scrambled out from underneath him. Hugging her knees to her chest, she peered up at him as he stood up. He made to leave, but her voice calling his name stopped him.
Donnie didn’t turn around, couldn’t look her in the eye. He resolved not to kiss her again until she thought of him as more than a substitute for the pain, for a distraction rather than a lover—a life mate.
“I’m sorry, Donnie. I should have shielded my thoughts better.”
It stung that she was sorry for that but not what she had thought.
“Thank you for bringing me home. For looking after me.”
He’s the type of man that I need. But if I get too close and he comes back for me, the losing him will be a fate worse than death.
Donnie shook his head, clearing her thoughts from his mind. He loved her, he really did; and he suspected that she loved him, too, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself.
“I can’t keep living with this fear you have, Cait. Of him. You won’t even say his name for fear it will bring him to us. He is only a vampire; he dies like the rest of us. I understand what you went through in his kiss, but you’re free. You can’t continue to live a ghost of a life just in case.”
“He is not just another vampire, Donnie, and you know that.”
He pivoted to face her. “I love you, Cait. You know that. I love this life we have carved out, but I won’t be second best. I won’t be a runner-up prize if you really are waiting for him to come back. I’ve waited twenty years for you, Caitlyn; I won’t wait twenty more.”
She understood his words, knew he would leave her. Fear flashed in her eyes before the cool and calm Caitlyn crept back in. She straightened her dress and planted her bare feet on the floor, ready to stand. He couldn’t bear to watch her walk out of his room, to leave him like she had after slipping into his bed when the nightmares had torn her from sleep.
Leaving her behind, he strode from the room, feeling her eyes on him. Part of him, that lonely orphan boy who craved love the same way he craved blood, wanted to spin around and beg her to be with him. To stand by his side. To beg her to want him as he wanted her, and not be ashamed by it. It had to be her decision, though; he wouldn’t force the issue.
Coming to stop outside Melanie’s room, he knocked softly and heard the door unlock. Melanie peered out, blood-red tears staining her face.
“You won’t leave, will you? Caitlyn will come around. Make her listen to you.”
He pushed open the door and wiped away her tears. “No matter where I go, I will always be here for you. I’ve played my cards, little sister. It’s time for Caitlyn to play hers.”
Fresh tears brimmed her eyes. “You just gave me a family with you and Caitlyn. You told me that we would be a family, and now you’re tossing us aside.”
He was aware of Caitlyn standing in the doorway behind him, her presence like a magnet drawing him to her.
“I will always be family, Melanie. We all will. But what happens or doesn’t happen between me and Caitlyn is our business. Now, go get some rest. It’s been a long-ass day.”
Melanie’s eyes darted from him to Caitlyn before she nodded, gave him a quick hug, and shut the door behind her with a click. He heard her sniffle and listened to her jumbled thoughts before he forced himself to shut them out. He had his own demons to battle tonight.
Sucking in a breath he didn’t need, he turned back to Caitlyn. “I’m going out to clear my head. I’ll have my phone on if you need me.”
He advanced down the hall.
“Donnie, wait.”
He paused, refusing once again to look back at her because if he saw even a hint of lust in her eyes, he would lose his resolve and take her against the wall.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Sorry enough to ask me to stay? Sorry enough to push past your bullshit and be with me?”
Caitlyn cleared her throat. “I’m sorry that I can’t.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Then I’m sorry if I can’t wait. I’m not just a body to make you feel safe at night when your past creeps in, Caitlyn. Maybe it’s time I found someone who might be for me what I could have been for you.”
His words seemed so final, even as he spoke them. Donnie didn’t wait for a reply, he simply sped from the house, heading back toward the city lights, looking for something to distract him.
Goddammit, he needed a drink. Blood or beer—at this stage, he didn’t care.
Ever took a few moments to douse the fire that still raged inside her veins, the one urging her to toss Samhain out on her ear and get back to Derek. My God, how had they gone from fighting to such passion in an instant? She had never felt anything like it before. Of course, Ever had had boyfriends, but this pull, this need, had never taken hold before.
Doesn’t help that you keep thinking of other men.
Ever shook her head. Of course, that’s what you focus on.
I’m a man. Sue me.
Rolling her eyes, Ever braved the kitchen where Samhain had made herself at home. As Ever watched the person who raised her stomp around the kitchen like it was hers, she realized that the years had been good to Samhain. Her hair was newly cut. Its shoulder-length crisp angles framed her face perfectly, the rich black colour a striking contrast against her creamy complexion. Emerald green eyes sparkled above thin lips that epitomized the way people saw witches. Slender, with an aura of power that you could not buy, Samhain Chace was power personified.
“Don’t just stand there gawking in the doorway, Ever. Come give your mother a hug.”
Smiling despite her embarrassment, Ever strode into Samhain’s embrace, hugging out the tension that seemed to pollute the air.
When Samhain loosened her grip, Ever stepped back and indicated for her mother to sit down at the kitchen table. Of course, before she did, Samhain poured herself a very large glass of red wine. Ever felt she needed a clear head to hash out whatever it was that had dragged her mother over here in the dead of night.
“I can see why you fell for the wolf. He is quite the picture to look at.”
“Mom,” Ever groaned, “that’s just weird, and please, his name is Derek, not ‘the wolf.’”
Samhain dismissed Ever’s comment with the wave of her hand. “Semantics.”
Exhaling, Ever rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “What brings you here at this hour, Mom? It’s been a long day, and I really need to go to bed.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow, drawing a blush from Ever. “To sleep, Mom. Yeesh, bring your mind out of the gutter.”
“What I saw certainly did not look like sleeping. What if I had been your father? I’m sure the wolf would have been a eunuch in mere minutes.”
“Dad has the good grace to knock on my front door or call instead of just showing up. Besides, Dad is in Poland right now at a conference. We texted earlier on.”
Samhain swirled her wine around in the glass, her green eyes watching Ever.
Uncomfortable under her mother’s scrutiny, Ever shifted in her seat. Goddammit, this was her house. “C’mon, Mom, spit it out.”
Setting the wine glass down on the table, Samhain held Ever’s gaze. Ever could almost feel the magic pulsing under her mother’s skin. Drumming her nails on the table, Samhain pursed her lips and began.
“We, as in your father and I, think it might be a good idea if you went to the States to study after Christmas. It’s all arranged. With the growing population of supernatural serial killers in the U.S., your skills would be put to good use over there.
“Faoláin spoke with a colleague at Quantico’s Paranormal Crimes Division,” she continued, “and they would be happy to have you on their team.”
Ever couldn’t believe her ears. On one hand, she was being presented with the job she had always wanted. On the other, her parents were manipulating her, trying to separate her from Derek; she knew it in her bones. Hurt, anger, sadness—a cascade of emotions flared within Ever.
She’s trying to get rid of you.
Ever ignored the voice in her head as she tried to respond to her mother in a steady voice. “My life is here.”
“Nothing that cannot be left behind.”
“Why now, Mom?” Ever narrowed her gaze. “If this is because of me and Derek, then you don’t have to invent a job and ask me to move countries. Just spit it out.”
“There’s still time to back out, Ever.” Samhain leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “The mating is not complete. If I’m right, you and the wolf haven’t slept together yet.”
