With his blood rapidly heating with every moment, he had to admit a quick romp in the sheets sounded like exactly what he needed. But he couldn’t even think of touching her without his stomach churning in protest. He had to consciously stop himself from gagging. So, Kat was not what the doctor ordered.
“It’s been a long journey,” he said, which was completely true, no matter how fevered he felt at the moment. “I need to rest.” He found his suitcase in the closet already emptied. Paul must have already unpacked for him. He smiled at the kind gesture before turning back toward Kat, who was pouting like a spoiled child.
“No,” he snapped before she could whine and argue about it. Pulling a pair of cotton briefs from the drawer, he headed toward the en suite to get washed.
“I...I could join you in the shower,” she called, drawing a stern look from him. “Fine,” she huffed, twirling around, her dark hair flying. She stomped toward the door, turning back to bark at him, “You’ll need your rest in order to please me properly anyway.”
He let out a sigh of relief. Peace...for now, at least. He headed for the bathroom, hoping a cold shower might cool his feverish body.
***
At last dawn had broken. Nessie tiptoed down the hallway towards her favorite morning spot where she was dying to break open her crisp, new notebook. She usually spent the early morning hours reading the wide array of books available in the study and scribbling away her own stories on scraps of paper she rummaged out of the trash. But as the door of the study came into view, she hesitated. Light shone from beneath the door and a faint shadow moved within the strip of light. Who would be up at this hour? Everyone else retired for the day. A pang of disappointment swept through her. She turned to leave whomever it was in peace when the door creaked open.
"You're welcome to come in, Nessie," an all-too-familiar whisper called.
She raised her eyes to his face, her frown deepening. What was Charlie doing up past dawn? "How did you know I was out here?" she asked.
He pointed at his ears, smiling.
“Oh, right.” Vampire. Duh.
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He opened the door further, standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. And, damn her, she couldn’t not notice all those lean muscles he was showing off so shamelessly.
Her face heated and she forced her eyes away. “No need to apologize. I’m a slave. That’s my job,” she gritted out.
Charlie shuffled his feet, glancing at the floor. “Right. Well, he shouldn’t have been so rough---”
Snapping her head back to glare at him, she said, “I’m used to it.”
No response to that slice of truth, huh? She could see she was making him uncomfortable. Welcome to my world.
He cleared his throat. “I heard it was your birthday today.”
She blinked and nodded. And he cared, why?
“Well, I wanted to give you something for your birthday, and I remembered how much you liked reading.” He should know, having been the one to teach her. “So, I thought you might like to pick out a book from the study to keep, perhaps.”
Her jaw dropped. A book...of her own? Was he serious? When he held the door open for her to come in, she found her feet shuffling toward the shelves of story after story calling her name.
He followed her like an annoying puppy as she perused the shelves trying to decide which book she wanted to keep forever. Chances like this didn’t come along too often for a slave. Decisions, decisions.
“What’s this?” he asked, snatching her perfectly untouched notebook from under her arm.
She whipped around, opening her mouth and reaching her hand out to grab the notebook back. Whoa, wait a minute. He’s a vampire. You’re a slave. Remember your place. Her fists clenched at her sides.
He quirked his brow, watching her with those unnaturally blue eyes. His lips curved in a smirk, as if amused by her barely-restrained retaliation. She growled under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest and looking anywhere but at him. When she heard him chuckle, she wanted to stab him with her pen. But it was new, and she didn’t want it covered in blood, so she resisted.
He opened the notebook, the scrap pieces of her writing falling out. And she’d just organized those, too. Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him. When he picked up the pieces and began reading them, her foot started tapping of its own accord.
“What are these?” His eyes glanced up from the scraps, his eyebrows lifting.
None of your business. “Nothing. Could I have my notebook back...please?” She forced a sweet note at the end and even managed a smile.
Smiling back, he shook his head and went back to reading. “Just worry about picking out your present,” he said, waving her away.
Do not stab him. Turning, she scanned the shelves and quickly snatched the first title that caught her eye. “There. All done. Can I please have my notebook back now?”
He looked up from her writing and glanced at the book in her hand. “Interesting choice.”
What was so interesting about choosing a classic like Gone with the Wind? Narrowing her eyes, she reluctantly asked, “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Just find it ironic that you’d choose a novel that takes place when I grew up, that’s all,” he stated, placing the scraps back into the notebook and handing it to her.
There went her jaw again. But then, she’d never thought about how old Charlie really could be. He didn’t look a day over twenty. “It was an interesting period in history, I suppose.”
He sneered at that. “Interesting isn’t the choice of word I’d use to describe the experience.”
Her stomach fluttered with renewed curiosity. A dozen questions flitted through her mind, but she had no desire to stay cooped up in a room with a vampire all day. “Well, I’d better get to bed. Busy night, you know.”
He nodded politely, and she hurried out the door.
Stupid woman, she thought just before her eyes caught movement down the hallway. It was the master's whore sneaking into his room again. Her gut knotted in fury, ashamed to call the cheating bitch Mother.
As she snuck back into her family's quarters, she saw her father lying in bed alone again. She left him be, pretending to buy his fake sleeping act for the hundredth time.
CHAPTER THREE
I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Charlie thought as he watched Nessie hurry away. She definitely was no little girl anymore, and she had the body to prove it. Even with ill-fitting clothes, he could clearly see the changes. She had the subtle curves of a full-grown woman that clearly didn’t get enough to eat.
He’d sensed her the moment she had gotten within a few yards of the study door. His whole body tensed, warming in response to her presence. And he’d opened the door, jumping at the chance to talk to her. And she can’t get away from me fast enough.
Charlie couldn’t blame her for her wariness around him. It was obvious that the other vampires had given her plenty of reasons to fear his kind. Jacques’ brutal feeding earlier had been a prime example. The longer he had spent with her in the study, the more he wanted to bask in her company. Not to mention the “side effects” she seemed to have on him. His temperature hiked up another few degrees, and her scent made his head spin. Every slight touch of her hand sent shivers through his rapidly-heating body. Keeping his composure had taken constant effort.
He had sought Paul out earlier as soon as he’d finished showering. Paul had beamed at him. “My baby turned eighteen at sundown. Guess you were right about me getting old, huh,” he’d said, chuckling and rubbing his balding head.
Somehow, Charlie had returned on the very day that Nessie turned of age, now old enough to be a vampire’s destined mate. His destined mate? He had a sneaking suspicion that Fate had a hand in that little coincidence. The meddling pain in the ass.
He cursed to himself as he made his way back to his own room. What the hell was he supposed to do with a human? His plans di
d not include a mate, destined or otherwise. And he’d be damned if he’d let centuries of hard work go to waste over the woman. Jacques de Portea deserved to die, and he was finally close enough to land a lethal blow to the powerful immortal that had taken everything from him.
Lancaster, 1867
“Something’s out there,” his mother whispered, her wide-eyed gaze landing on his father. He nodded, his focus somewhere outside the window as his eyes darted trying to see through the darkness.
“Get under the floorboards,” his father commanded, snatching his rifle from the corner of the room.
“What’s going on, Pop?” he asked, trying to keep the screech of fear from his voice and failing. He didn’t want to get in the crawl space beneath the house like a coward.
“Just do as I say, son.”
“C’mon, Pop. I’m a man now. I fought in the war, for Christ’s sake!”
His father clenched his jaw as he gripped his rifle and glanced out the window again. “Barely fifteen. You had no business volunteering. You’re lucky I wasn’t here to tan your hide for even thinking it.”
“You were fighting in the war, too!”
“Your job was to look after your mother, not abandon her! Boys have no business fighting wars.”
Charlie sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“Now get under the damn floorboards, and keep your mouth shut. I don’t care what you hear or see, you stay down there and you stay quiet. Ya hear me?”
Charlie nodded, following his mother over to the trap door and dropping through the hole. Then, his mother shut the trap door, throwing the hand-woven rug over it.
“What are you doing, woman? Get your ass down there with him!”
“Oh, I don’t think so, John Matthews. I already had to watch both of you run off to war and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
“Mary…”
“Shut up, and throw me the other rifle.”
Silence stretched for what seemed like hours before it came. Whatever it was. The door flew from the hinges, and Charlie heard the blasts from his parents’ rifles a moment later.
“Nice try, humans,” a cold, sneering voice said. His mother’s scream pierced the air a moment later, drowning out a nasty gurgling sound.
Charlie could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he pressed his palm over his mouth. He peered up through the floor, only to see something dripping through the cracks. Blood pooled next to him and his stomach clenched, immobilized by fear. He’d fought grown men in battle, but whatever this was. It was no man.
“You are a pretty one, aren’t you? Too bad for you I haven’t drank in days, and one coal miner isn’t quite enough for me,” a snide voice came in the darkness. Charlie caught a glimpse of the man for only a second, but it remained etched in his mind in perfect detail. Narrow face, pale skin, icy-gray eyes under greasy, blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. A monster hidden beneath the handsome features.
His mother’s scream cut off. More blood poured through the cracks. There was nowhere to escape as it ran down his face, mixing with the silent tears he couldn’t hold back and soaking his clothes. Under his feet, the puddle of blood expanded. And he was left to crouch down, shaking in his parents’ blood.
His plan was simple from that day on: get close enough to the monster to kill him. No matter what. And he’d spent the rest of his life doing just that. The numbing effects of transitioning to vampirism made the horrific acts required by his Maker easier with each passing day. Now, that terrified boy was nothing but a distant memory, and his goal was finally in sight.
***
Nessie bolted up in her poor excuse for a bed, groaning as her bracelet vibrated again. Not ready, she thought and dozed back off until it became painful. It didn't give you long to get up and get where you needed to go before it punished you with tiny volts. She glanced down at the stupid thing, wishing she could tear it from her flesh. Not only would that be more painful than the volts, it was completely pointless. The electrical wires were covered by a layer of steel, making human fingers too weak to snap it.
Another painful jolt finally got her to drag herself from beneath the thin blanket, sighing as she saw her bracelet flashing "Kitchen".
Of all the duties she was expected to perform each day, kitchen duty was the worst. Other than feedings, of course. Hard to top being used like a dairy cow. But kitchen duty required her to "play nice" with Mother. Not so easy when Mother was the only human in the world she could barely stand to be around. But stand she did, peeling potatoes at the counter for her mother's famous beef stew.
"Don't peel so much of the skin off, Vanessa," she snapped.
Nessie glared at her, but adjusted the knife in her hand.
"Glare at me all you want. There's no need to be wasteful," Mother said, continuing to gather spices from the cupboard.
She didn't look at her mother as she retorted, "Why peel them at all then?" She glanced over in time to catch Mother glaring at her now.
She had moved on to carrots when Bobby, another slave, came in. He looked at her, something off in his eyes. "You're wanted in the study, Nessie." Well, if it got her out of kitchen duty...
Placing the knife back on the counter, she followed him out but halted in the study as she saw Charlie leaning against one of the bookcases. What did he want now? When he spotted her, his jaw ticked, making her narrow her eyes. What was his problem all of a sudden?
"Ah, there's our little thief," Master said from behind her almost making her jump. Almost. She did not like how happy he sounded.
Thief? Her? She found her eyes darting to Charlie, who refused to look at her.
Master walked over to her, sneering. "I do not tolerate thievery of my property from my property."
Staring at him, she wanted to ask what the hell he was talking about. She knew better, though. Smart-asses weren't tolerated either. Instead, she glanced at Charlie again, hoping he’d clue her in.
Rough fingers grabbed her jaw, forcing her eyes back to Master's face. "Stop looking at him!"
She pressed her lips together as her jaw started bruising. His pale, beady eyes narrowed, his thin lips twitching.
"You will be punished for your thievery, Vanessa," Master said, raising his hand and shaking the book at her. Her book. The one Charlie had given her as a gift the night before. "Take her to the courtyard, Charlie."
Her knees went weak and wobbly. The courtyard. She couldn't breathe. Her gaze landed on Charlie again. “You set me up, you bastard!”
Charlie finally stepped from the bookcase. All calm and casual. “Sir, is this really necessary?”
Master jerked his head around, his eyes wide. “Of course it’s necessary! This slave,” he spat, forcing her to look at Charlie now, “had the gall to think she was entitled to claim a book as her own. She is a slave! She doesn’t have the right to claim shit!”
"But—" Charlie started, his eyes darting back to her.
"She is plenty old enough to know her place. To understand the rules." Master released her and got in Charlie's face. "Don’t you agree?"
Charlie's eyes blazed fury as he offered a barely discernible shake of his head.
Master turned to face her, his gaze above her. "Take her to the courtyard. And bring Katherine and Logan in here."
Glancing behind her, she saw Bobby nodding his head before giving her a look of pity. He took hold of her arm and pulled her from the room.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bobby placed her on a small bench in the center of the courtyard. She tried not to tremble, but, as the other slaves began circling around her, her body shook and her cheeks flushed. She kept her eyes on her trembling hands, knowing what was coming, and knowing she had done nothing to deserve it.
Master finally stepped into the courtyard, a small grin on his face. Her body shook harder as she watched him come toward her.
"I am going to enjoy this," Master whispered to her as he passed the bench.
You would you sick bas�
�. Her stomach clenched as she saw Charlie stepping into the courtyard with Katherine and Logan following close behind. So, he’d decided this little show was too good to miss? What a fool she’d been, calling him her friend. Well, she wasn’t a naive little girl anymore, was she? Now, she saw him for what he truly was.
Someone grabbed her arms from behind, forcing her off the bench. Bobby pushed her chest against the column, making her wrap her arms around it and tying her wrists with a thick piece of rope.
Logan nudged Charlie forward, muttering something to him. He clenched his fists, his face twitching as he moved to sit on the bench she was just pulled off of. Front row seat, even. How classy.
"This slave has been caught with this," Master began, holding the book up, "in her room. A book from my study." He threw the book at her feet. "Thievery will, in no way, be tolerated in my household." He turned toward her and nodded.
She sucked in a breath as the first lash ripped through the thin material of her shirt. In the short relapse, she scanned the crowd, finding her parents pushing through to the front. Her mother had tears streaming down her face, and her father threw a deadly gaze Master's way.
She hugged the column tightly as the next few lashes came down. Her back stung as if a whole nest of wasps had jabbed into her. And Master watched with a smile. She stared at him, not bothering to hide her hatred for the man responsible for her fate. He met her gaze, his grin fading with each blow that failed to draw tears.
"Harder," he directed whoever was delivering the whipping.
Each lash drew more blood from her battered body as she clenched her teeth so hard her jaw felt like it would explode. The vampires' gazes turned red with thirst, some of them revealing lengthening incisors. That scared her a hell of a lot more than any whip could. She prayed Master wouldn't allow them to feast on the blood that poured from her back afterward, shuddering at the thought.
First Kiss of Freedom: A Vampire Shifter Hybrid Romance (The Whitemoon Warriors Series Book 1) Page 2
