by Emily Reed
Dimitri spoke then; I'd forgotten all about him. He stood like a statue next to the fireplace. "I'll do it," he said.
"Good," Megan's father stood. "That's perfect."
Megan's hand tightened on mine to the point of pain. I felt it through the haze of the influence, and I grabbed onto it, using the pain as a line back to myself, out from under the cape they'd thrown over me. "No," Megan said. "I'll do it."
Pearl shook her head. "You know you can't."
"Why?" I asked.
Pearl turned to me. "You are of the same blood. We do not feed off our own blood."
"Same blood?"
"Our blood pact," Megan said with a small smile. "We promised."
"That's why we are taking time out from this war to bring you in," Pearl said.
All the vampires in the room cocked their heads at once. "We must go," Megan's father said, suddenly standing. "Dimitri, take her to her room."
"Can't –" Megan began, but her father glared at her.
"You will come with us," he said, his voice that same commanding tone Pearl had used earlier. Megan went to speak. "Not another word." He cut her off—and a wave of something crossed the room. Megan stood, as did her mother, and then they were gone in a blur. The front door slammed behind them, and I was alone with Dimitri.
Without their influence panic crashed. My throat closed, and tears filled my eyes; that deep and terrifying hunger in my gut began to grow outward, taking over my limbs.
Images battered my brain. My father in the woods. Megan's blue eye. Her father's menacing smile. The tobacco clinging to the tip of Pearl's tongue. The open mouth of a starving zombie…
Chapter Ten
My hand holding the brandy shook, the golden liquid sloshing. Dimitri strolled over and stood looking down at me as I hyperventilated.
He sat next to me and put his hand over mine, taking the glass then placing his fingers against my wrist. Warmth spread throughout my body, weighing a thick layer of calm over me.
"There now," he said with a smile. "Come with me, I'll show you to your room."
"I have a room?"
"Yes, we expect you to stay."
"But how can I decide what to do with all of you controlling me?"
He smiled. "Maybe we will make the decision for you."
"But Megan—"
"She's not in charge."
"Who is? Not you. You get the drinks."
He chuckled. "A man like me is not meant to lead."
"Why not?"
"You ask a lot of questions.”
I realized he was holding my hand, and we were strolling down a hallway. How did that happen? The carpet was red with a gold paisley pattern. Dusty oil paintings decorated the walls, which were once white but now stained yellow with age. “This is your room." Dimitri stopped at an open door.
A canopy bed with curtains the same powdery violet as dawn took up the center of the room. Beyond it, a sitting area with a love seat and coffee table fit into a bay window. Drapes the color of golden hay closed out the night. A dressing table with a round mirror and a cushioned stool completed the “Princess in a Tower” motif.
Dimitri released me, but I still felt his warmth. "Why are you warm?" I asked.
"Because you like it.”
"How do you know?"
"I can feel you."
"Can every vampire feel me like that?"
"No, the older you get the more…" he paused. "Don't think about that now, Darling. Come." He walked me over to the bed.
Sitting down he placed me in front of him so that our faces were at the same level. “Were you following me?” I asked.
His lips curled up, and his eyes darkened. “Yes. It was very enjoyable.”
“Why? Are you going to turn me? Were you hunting me?” A small zing of emotion shot up from my stomach. Fear or lust? I couldn’t tell.
Dimitri laughed softly. "Not hunting, no. Watching.” The way he said it made it sound even more dangerous than being hunted. What did he want from me? What wouldn’t I give him? “I won’t turn you now," he assured me.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Dimitri."
I shook my head, frustration pulling at the gauze. “I know that. Where are you from?"
"Originally?” He took a breath. Scenting me? “It no longer matters."
"How old are you?" His eyes glimmered with amusement. Desire edged out frustration and began to tease the gauze apart. I wanted to touch his face, to see his fangs. He was so beautiful.
Hunger broke through a patch of his control…or was he making me feel this way?
"Much older than you," he answered.
"Older than Pearl?"
He nodded. "Yes, about eight centuries older."
Dimitri measured his life in centuries…
My palm touched his cheek—smooth like porcelain, but not cold. He felt alive. Confusion clouded his gaze. He’d been confused by me before…the first time I saw him in the hospital. Dimitri's hand grabbed my wrist.
"What is happening?” I asked, as the heat between us grew, my arm burning where he held me. I reached out with my other hand but he shied away, grabbing my wrist and stopping me. I leaned in, drawn to his mouth, the color alluring, the cruel twitch of his smile enthralling.
When our lips touched, it stung, and I snapped back…though not far. His pupils grew, turning his pale blue eyes almost black. I reached for him again, and this time his lips met mine, and I breathed in searing heat.
He opened his mouth and, releasing my wrists, brought his hands to cup my face. I tentatively licked a fang and he growled. The taste of blood bloomed.
He groaned, and energy coursed through me. Dimitri twisted, taking me with him, slamming my body onto the bed, his lips never leaving mine.
My fingers dug into his hair—hunger riding me. I can't kill him. I could unleash upon him and he could take it.
“What are—” Dimitri didn't get to finish his thought.
He was gone in a blur of motion. Suddenly, I was just looking up at the canopy above me, my fingers holding nothing but air.
I pushed up onto my elbows. Dimitri held Megan by her throat, her feet six inches above the carpet. She didn't look like she was struggling to breathe. Which made sense—why would a vampire need to breathe?
“What are you doing? Let her go," I said.
Dimitri looked at me, his eyes huge and black—fathomless. I could step into them and disappear. His lips were parted, fangs descended. A shiver of desire raced over my skin. He was at once terrifying and beautiful. I wanted him.
"Let her go.” Energy coursed through me.
Dimitri's eyes narrowed. "I will taste you again.” He dropped Megan and stalked toward me.
"She is mine," Megan said, her voice rough.
His head whipped to her. "You cannot claim your own blood.”
"I just did," Megan answered, stepping close to him, so that their chests touched. Her fangs slowly grew as she looked up at him. My best friend has fangs.
Dimitri’s hands fisted at his side. "You are a fool. I will speak to your father.”
“I’ve already talked to him.” Megan jutted her chin up. “Now go.”
Dimitri looked over at me again, his eyes trailing down to my shirt. I followed his gaze and found it ripped, my bra exposed. When did that happen?
“Do you agree to this?” he asked me, his voice low and seductive. “Will you allow her to claim you?”
“I have a choice?” I asked, an inkling of surprise bubbling up from under the layer of suppression they’d thrown over me.
“No,” Megan said. “You don’t. Get out, Dimitri.”
He growled, the sound vibrating through the room, shaking the drapery on the bed. He didn’t sound human.
Then he was gone—the door left open in his wake.
Megan smiled and crossed to the bed. "Are you okay?" she asked, touching the ripped edge of my shirt.
I looked down at myself—the black lace bra, gold shorts, and sto
ckings. "Yes," I said. "I was enjoying that, actually."
"I couldn't let him feed on you.”
“Why not? What does it mean that I am yours?" I looked into her mismatched eyes, concentrating on the familiar one, avoiding the hungry gaze of the icy fiery blue orb.
“Now I’m the only one who can feed off you. But don't worry, I'm not going to. You're safe."
"What will you eat?"
“Don't worry about me, Darling." Megan smiled, and for a moment, she looked so much like herself—fearless and commanding. Just like before she fell ill.
"I got used to worrying about you," I said.
Megan nodded, her lips tightening. “You don't need to anymore. I'll take care of you again." She went to a dresser and pulled out a big sleeping shirt. “Here.” She held it out to me.
I changed into it and got under the covers, resting my head on the soft pillow. Megan laid down on top of the covers next to me.
She curled up on her side, and we looked into each other's eyes, like we always had when we were scared, when either of us needed comfort. "How did you get your parents to let you claim me?" I asked.
"We struck a deal." She broke eye contact, rolling onto her back and looking up at the canopy.
"Can they control you?"
"Sort of," she answered.
"Do you sleep?" I asked.
"No, but I can lie still with you."
Megan was still, I noticed then. It was something else that had changed about her. The wildness that had always surrounded her, the frenetic energy that seemed to come from within, was gone. There was an unnatural stillness about her now. Right, because she wasn't breathing.
"I'm relieved," I said
"Because I'm alive?" Megan asked, looking over at me.
"Are you?"
She turned her gaze back to the canopy. "Sort of."
"I'm glad to see you, but I'm also afraid of you. You're not the same."
"No, I'm not." Megan glanced my way. "But I still love you, Darling. I think I love you even more."
"I love you, too.” And I always would.
She smiled and reached out, pushing a strand of hair off my face. “I missed you.” Her cool fingers grazed my cheek. Tears welled in my eyes, but Megan cooled the emotions. “No need for that,” she said in a soft whisper.
Sleep pressed at me. “I don't think I'm crazy.” My voice was thick with exhaustion. “That's why I'm relieved. I think my memories of my father are real. It makes sense now."
"How?" Megan asked, turning her body toward mine again, her eyebrows conferencing, the weight of her will lessening, allowing me to answer.
"I don't know. Why do you drink blood? Why are your parents vampires? Why are there zombies overrunning the streets?" I paused. "Then again, maybe I am crazy, and none of this is real."
"It's real, Darling," Megan said, closing her eyes. "It is written.”
"What is?"
"The rise of the zombies, the fall of the human race," she answered.
"By who?"
"God," she said, opening her eyes. They glittered in the dull light of the bedroom.
"Since when do you believe in God?" I asked, my voice barley a whisper.
"I was supposed to die. Instead, I'm stuck in some kind of limbo. My parents—who never attended church, and I thought were long dead—are vampires. Religious vampires. I don't think believing in a higher power is such a leap.”
"Does it hurt?"
"What?"
"Being in limbo?"
"Only if I don't drink blood."
"Does it taste good?"
She nodded. "Delicious." Her fangs descended a little. She rolled away from me, looking back up at the canopy. Hiding from me.
"Does it feel good to be fed on? Like your father said?"
"Yes," she sighed. "When we take it from a human directly, it feels very good for everyone involved."
"But you don't kill people."
"It's not necessary."
"But...?" I said, sensing she had more to say.
"It feels the best." She licked her lips. "Let's not talk about this. Go to sleep, Darling."
"Okay," I said, my eyelids heavy again. I let them close and began slipping into a deep sleep. I tried to resist it for a moment.
"Shhh," Megan said, her cool fingers on my cheek again. "Sleep."
And I did.
When I woke, my limbs felt heavy. I didn't open my eyes right away, just sank into the lethargy. As my awareness broadened, disorientation set in. Where am I?
Wriggling my toes against soft sheets, I blinked my eyes open and saw violet curtains… understanding blossomed. The whole truth of it vibrated in my cells. The world has gone mad. Making me normal.
I climbed out of the bed, and my legs almost buckled under me. Using the mattress for support, I stumbled toward the mirror. Sitting on the cushioned stool, I met my own gaze—emerald green eyes sparkled back at me. A precious stone struck by the sun. My midnight black hair was tangled, as if I’d slept a week rather than a night. My lips looked kissed, plump and rosy. The big T-shirt I wore slipped off one shoulder. I looked beautiful…and sexy.
Blinking, I stared at myself, as surprised by that simple thought as anything else happening… I’d never seen myself like this before—as a person worth wanting.
I tried to sense if I was under another being's control. Yes. I felt a bind on me, like a tourniquet cutting off blood supply. A sense that there was more of me, but I couldn't reach it. This was different than the gauze—not as opaque. It almost felt like this was something I could snap… releasing my full self.
Using the makeup table for support, I reached out toward the bed. My vision darkened at the edges, and I paused, regaining my balance. There was a robe on the couch. A silver carafe and white china cup sat on the low table. Steadier, I crossed the room, picking up the robe and shrugged into it. It was thin cotton, pure white, with a thick black tie.
I headed for the door, wanting to find Megan, ready to leave this place. I needed to go home, shower, and think about all this without their influence. Untie this tourniquet.
The door was locked. A small wave of fear passed through me, raising goose bumps across my flesh, but it faded, leaving me calm and thirsty.
Returning to the small couch, I picked up the silver carafe. Popping open the lid, I confirmed it was coffee before pouring myself a cup. No milk or sugar was provided, so I drank it black, waiting in the big room, my mind an almost pleasant blank…the calm before the storm.
The clinkety-clank of a key drew my attention to the door. Megan walked in, wearing tight jeans and a black T-shirt, carrying a plate piled high with pastries. "I brought you some breakfast.” She closed the door behind her.
"Am I a prisoner?" I asked as she crossed the room.
"No, of course not."
"Then why is my door locked?" My voice sounded strange—almost echoey.
Megan put the plate on the coffee table. "I just didn't want you wandering around while I was gone." She sat down next to me. “Or anyone coming in here without my permission.”
"You say that so casually.” Megan didn’t respond. My thoughts were stuck in a kaleidoscope, colorful and fragmented, parts of a whole I could not make out. "Can I go home?" I asked.
"It's too dangerous," she said.
"What if you came with me?" Wouldn’t that be wonderful? For us to just go home together?
Megan shook her head. "I can't, Darling." She reached out and took my hand. "I really think you should change," she sighed. "Become a vampire. You'll be safe." Her voice dropped an octave. “We could be together.”
I stared at her hand in mine—the sensation that I was touching a statue returning. I didn’t want to be like that. But I wanted to be with Megan. “What is it like to be fed on?"
She turned away from me, releasing my hand. “No one ever fed on me."
I swallowed, my thoughts moving slowly. “Okay, then what does it feel like to feed…on a person?”
Sh
e licked her lips, and a wave of hunger pulsed off of her. “It's the best feeling I've ever felt." Megan didn’t look at me.
“I want to be with you, Megan. You know I do…but I don’t know if I can…” Her eyes slowly met mine, one that green I remember so well, the other fiery blue—starving. “Can you feed on me?”
“It’s not safe.” She stood in a blur and paced away from me.
“Why?” Her eyes met mine, the pupils large and black. All I’d ever wanted was to give Megan everything she needed. “The closer to death I take a human, the better it feels," she said, her fangs descending. I wanted to feed her.
“Have you?” I swallowed, fear trickling through the tourniquet. “Killed?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead staring at her feet for a long moment. Finally she nodded. Megan killed someone. "I didn't understand,” she said. “At first I didn’t know how to stop. I have more control now.” She brought her eyes to meet mine, the pupils larger, as if the memory of that death made her even hungrier. “It's against our religion to drink the last drop.”
“That’s good, I guess.” Human life seemed so inconsequential while under their control.
“The act of feeding is sacred to my family."
"Feed on me." The words came out almost unbidden. Did I mean that? Yes. We could be together…
"I want to.” Her fangs fully descended, pushing into her lower lip.
I pulled my hair aside, exposing my neck in invitation. Megan’s gaze riveted to my throat. My pulse pounded against my skin, as if the blood wanted her to drink it.
She moved in a blur—covering me with her body. Sharp pain melted into delicious sensation. Her hands held my back, pressing my body tight to her.
It was the most perfect our relationship had ever been: I was nourishing her. She was taking the excess in me and turning it into fuel. Into life. This was meant to be between us.
She broke away from my neck. Warm blood from the wound slipped into the well of my clavicle, then down my chest. Megan's eyes burned with energy, as if we were on stage, the crowd cheering, the music between us powerful and true. United.
She lowered her face, lapping at my clavicle, sucking up the blood caught there, her lips cold against my fevered skin.
