Loved by The Alpha Bear

The Primal Bear Protectors: Book 1

K.T Stryker

© 2017

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Prologue

There’s no time to wash the blood off his hands. They’re coming. He can smell their scent, and if he hesitates, they’ll be on him before he can run.

Throwing open the door, he leaves his bloody handprints on the metal and breaks into a sprint. He must get out of the neighborhood. Dashing down the street, the man runs into an alley. His heart thumps in his chest, screaming to the beat of his misery.

Things won’t be the same. The man knows this deep in his being. Skidding off the pavement a bit, he finds himself grateful he’s in running shoes. All his senses throw themselves into a static blur, propelling him both mentally and physically out of the place that hurts and into the numb haven of adrenaline.

Nathan! Nathanael! Her voice invades the space of his head, distant like a shaky radio signal. The man doesn’t respond—she can’t have the satisfaction. Come back. Talk to us—

The distance having become too far for her to reach him with her telepathy, her voice cuts out. Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, he makes a break across the highway between the cars, moving toward the trees. The cry of a car horn alerts him to the dark car he didn’t see. Just in time, the man leaps for the railing and barrels over it. There’s nothing but steep, forested terrain here, and he falls head over heels into the underbrush with none of his usual grace.

Yelping, Nathan crashes into a tree. A pained gasp breaks out of his mouth and he’s stunned for a moment, vision reeling.

With his body not in movement anymore, there’s no way to get away from the thoughts he’s avoiding. Somewhere deep in his chest, the pain broils. It gets closer to the surface with every moment, threatening to bring tears. Nathan chokes them back, steeling his jaw and forcing himself to his feet. His jeans are ripped now, the brambles having cut both them and his skin open. Blood makes the fabric stick to his skin as it clots.

He leans against the tree for a moment, looking at his hands. The iron scent of the blood on them, not his, makes him reel. Dizziness overwhelms him as a response to how much the fresh memory hurts. Stumbling away from the tree, he breaks into a run down the hill, jumping and leaping over logs and bushes in the way. Eventually, he reaches the shore.

Dropping to his knees in the cold water, he shoves his hands into the calm tide. The blood on his hands washes off, staining the water red. Breathing hard, Nathan drops his head and leans on all fours, nails raking through the sand under the water as a gurgling groan of panic and pain rolls out of him.

It’s not a physical pain. It’s something deeper, something that stings and burns the heart. It’s there, with his hands buried in the sand and clothing getting more drenched with every wave that rolls in, that he makes a decision not to mate again.

Nathan is cursed. What right does someone forsaken have to love? What other meaning can be drawn from the bruises that mar his skin every time he shifts?

Slowly, he drags himself to his feet and stares to the horizon. Evening light scatters the waves with glittering orange, and the man wipes all feeling from his expression. From now on, he won’t tolerate weakness. At least, not his.

The blood clan is coming for him. He can feel it. They’re not close enough for Naomi to get into his brain, not yet, but they’ll sniff him out soon enough through his tracks and scent on land.

There’s one place they can’t track him as easily, and that’s through the water. Boats won’t do—those are trackable.

He breathes deeply, taking a few steps back. Readying himself for the pain of transformation, Nathan locks into the primal side of his being and lets him go. The fur, the claws, the beast rips through him, tearing his human form to shreds and leaving only sleek, white fur.

The water welcomes him like an old friend, and he starts swimming.

Chapter 1

“Clara, when are you going to play again?”

Biting her lip, the woman shifts and taps her pen on the desk in front of her. She shifts a bit, adjusting the angle of the phone pressed against her ear. “We’ve talked about this, Mom.”

A pause on the other side of the phone and then a small sigh. “I know. It’s just been so long, and I was listening to your old recordings. You didn’t sell the cello, right?”

Clara shakes her head and then remembers that her mother can’t see the gesture over the phone. “Of course not,” she answers, forcing herself not to get annoyed. A quiet sigh escapes her mouth. “I’ll start playing soon. I’m just busy doing other things. Adjusting.”

Her mother continues. “You could come adjust back in Vancouver, you know. You don’t need to be on the other side of the country. There are lots of nice young men in Vancouver, too. Maybe a boyfriend would make you happy.”

It takes a significant amount of effort to keep from scoffing. Clara smiles a little, doodling a tiny flower on the pad of sticky notes next to her computer. “I make myself happy,” she teases. “I’m enjoying being an independent woman. Men in Vancouver would be just as disinteresting as the men here. I promise.”

Her mom laughs, but it’s an awkward half laugh. Clara’s face falls a little. She adds a stem and several leaves to the flower and then a pot. Eventually, her mom starts speaking. “I’m sure you like the quiet there—”

“I do,” Clara adds.

Her mom sounds deeply irritated. “Well, that’s all well and good, but Port Murmure is so small—” She breathes in sharply, and Clara has to hold the phone a little bit away from her ear to cut the shrill tone of her mom’s voice. “I mean, can you really function on your own? I didn’t think you’d be alone out there. I never thought your aunt would—”

Clara cuts that one off quick. “It’s been a year, mom. I’ve been living by myself for a while now. I’m not a child. I’ve gotten used to everything. You know that.”

“Well, honey, I’m sure,” her mother moves on, and Clara starts to zone out. She always does this. “But wouldn’t it help to have a boyfriend to help with your…situation?”

“Not right now,” Clara replies cheerfully, pretending she doesn’t know what her mom means. “Men would just distract me from my work, and I’m trying to save money so I need to be working.”

A sigh from the other end. “Clara—”

Pressing a button on the phone dock to activate a beeping sound on her mom’s end, Clara makes an excuse. “Sorry, mom, gotta run. There’s someone on the other line and it’s probably for work! Love you. Bye!”

“Oh, love you, hun. Stay sa—”

Clara hangs up the phone. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leans her forehead into the desk.

Clara knows her mom tries, of course. Trying, however, sometimes becomes too much.

Cara’s mother’s worry about her wheelchair-bound daughter isn’t unfounded. Clara knows she has it harder like this, but the idea of a boyfriend toting her around and treating her like porcelain is far worse than the effort of doing everything herself. She finishes up writing her references for her article and rolls back the wheels of her wheelchair. She turns one of them, propelling herself toward the outdoors.

Once to the screen door, Cara fishes the remote out of her pocket and finds the button for the garden door. Pushing it, the door glides open, and she rolls over the slight bump in the opening and out onto the smooth marble patio. Once out, she rolls to the hose and grabs it off the hook by the wall it’s hanging on. When she turns it on, she rolls around to one half of the garden on the edge of the marble before pulling the handle and starting the flow.

Rocking her knees back and forth a little, she watches the horizon while absentmindedly watering her plants. Morning sunlight on the water makes everything glow, and she shivers a little under the breeze. When Clara breathes in, the air tastes saltier than usual. The taste of it lingers on her tongue, making her heart swell.

With this area watered, she wheels back across the patio and waters the honeysuckle. The breeze hits her again, and she rolls down the sleeves of her jacket. Ah, spring. She tilts her head up once more, staring beyond the patio to the small hill beyond and then the sea.

There’s not much terrain on the hill, just grass and sparse bushes that fall off into sand as they descend into the Northumberland Strait. It’s just the far edge of the strait—it’s mostly Atlantic ocean here. Far off, all the way on the point, Clara can hear kids playing.

Her mother probably thinks she’s got the mind of an old woman. Clara can’t even deny that, but it’s not because of the muscular sclerosis. It started developing in her late teens. At first, it was just chronic pain that took her supply of Advil down. In the next few years, however, it became harder and harder to walk and function. Eventually, the pain of it became too much, and she switched to a wheelchair. That was in the last semester of graduate school, and she’d put it off far too long before that.

Being alone makes Clara feel self-sufficient, but she’d be lying if she tried to say it wasn’t at all related to being nervous about how ex-classmates and peers in Montreal would treat her differently with her change in mobility. Being the token friend or the one who drags people down with their disability isn’t a good feeling. In Port Murmure, no one’s really like that. They’re all too busy worrying about their lives and Nova Scotia’s plummeting economy.

As long as Cara can remember, she’s liked being alone. Sure, interaction is nice. When it comes down to it, however, there’s something valuable about separation. Wheelchair or not, she’ll always prefer staying at home with her plants and cooking for one than going to some big gala.

Not that people invite her to galas these days, but that’s mostly her fault. She left her peers, most of her career, and her beloved orchestra back in Montreal. Nova Scotia is mostly known for its fishing and shipbuilding, not a thriving music and entertainment industry.

That’s fine. She doesn’t play these days, anyway. It’s much less stressful to make money writing her articles and reviews of musical scores. Just because her cello is gathering dust doesn’t mean she’s lost the strength of her master’s degree in music theory.

Returning inside, she uses her remote to close the door. It’s lucky Clara’s aunt left the house to her, as well as a sum to outfit it with accessibility tech. Lauren Summers never really jived with the other members of the family, which is probably why Clara fit in so well with her. Solitary people sometimes seek other loners. Of course, none of this could really be called lucky.

Her aunt invited her here to stay and then passed away almost immediately. Cara didn’t even know she was sick. Aunt Lauren just told her she could have all her things. After all, she never married or had kids, so there weren’t a lot of people to pass it on to, and Clara’s mother certainly wouldn’t want to live all the way out here.

Clara cooks breakfast and rolls back to her room to get dressed. Shakily standing and sitting on the bed when needed, she gets dressed. It’s not like her legs don’t work at all—she just can’t stand on them for any significant amount of time without weakness or severe pain, confining her to her wheelchair. Staring into the bathroom mirror, she pulls at her cheek.

Her skin is rosy, warm-toned with a soft, orange glow. She grabs the comb, pulling it gently through shoulder-length, hazelnut locks. Combing the straight hair to one side of her shoulders, she sighs.

Cara’s not unattractive. However, not all men can see past her mobility issues, and if they do, it’s usually because they want to exploit what they see as weakness for their sort of protective fantasy. It’s fetishization of her disability. But even those cases aren’t popular. Most guys are just worried she can’t have sex right and don’t even bother to ask her if that assumption is true.

Around mid-morning, the doorbell rings. Rolling to the front entryway, Cara taps the unlocking code on the inside of the door and presses a remote button. This door opens on its. Outside the door stands Alice, a thin, stick-like woman.

Blond hair pulled into a messy braid and tossed over one shoulder, Alice shifts from foot to foot nervously.

“Hey,” Clara says warmly as she rolls back, welcoming her in. Alice steps inside, cautiously drifting her hand over the polished doorframe as she enters. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just turned in a piece for a deadline,” Alice murmurs, smiling. She closes the door and leans against it. “I was craving of company after all that typing.”

Clara’s eyes brighten. “Oh, that’s fantastic! What was this one about?”

Biting her lip, Alice grins. Her expression relaxes quickly as she speaks passionately. “This one was an intense western romance. A cowboy on the run from the law visits his childhood sweetheart. She’s hesitant at first, but the two grow together—the cops are still chasing him, and she gets all roped up in it.”

“That sounds fantastic. You have to let me read it when it’s published,” Clara demands. “I want a copy.”

Alice smiles. “You always want a copy.”

“Why are you really here?” Clara asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to get coffee in town?”

Sighing in relief, Alice nods. “Yes. I didn’t want to go on my, so—”

“I know you well enough to know that.” Clara smiles and wheels herself out the door. Once Alice follows, she closes and locks it. “You drive, though. I’m not in good shape to stand today and get myself into the front seat.”

Alice helps Clara into the car and they travel downtown. They get out at a coffee shop, and Alice holds the door open as Clara rolls her wheelchair in. At the counter, the male barista is looking at a TV screen on the wall. Clara follows his stare.

The video is of an apartment filmed from below. In the apartment, police look out from an open window. “—two weeks ago in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. The victim in question was a female shifter, age twenty-four. The information has been kept to the investigation until now. The police are identifying her boyfriend, twenty-five-year-old Mr. Walker, as a primary suspect, but as of now, his whereabouts are unknown. Individuals in the areas of New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, and northern Maine area are advised to practice caution around individuals of unknown shifting status—”

The barista turns off the TV, shaking his head. “Enough of that. Much too depressing to dwell on this fine day.” He turns to Clara and Alice. “What would you young ladies like?”

Snapping back to reality, Clara blinks her eyes back to him after reluctantly pulling them from the darkened television screen. “I’ll have an Americano with hazelnut flavoring, please.” She smiles politely. “Don’t bother leaving room for cream.”

Alice takes the bill as usual, despite Clara’s protests. Clara can’t really blame her—Alice’s romance work is renowned, and her paychecks aren’t small. It’s a good thing Alice is successful as an author because she is so anxious that Clara can’t imagine her working any job that would require her to speak to people.

Frankly, Cara is surprised that Alice even agreed to go out with her. Her friend is so constantly anxious that she only ever really leaves her house to send mail, buy groceries, and visit Clara, but even that isn’t as often as Clara would like.

They sit at the table and talk for a while. Clara listens to Alice talk about her book and her ex-fiancé and the things Alice usually talks about. She’s not very good at articulating what she means, but Clara loves her anyway. They became fast friends a year ago when Clara first moved to Port Murmure before her aunt died. Alice is a little weird and sometimes standoffish, which is likely why she and Alice click. Weird people are like magnets for each other. Clara knows the fact that Alice likes her feels is a big compliment. Ever since Alice’s fiancé booked it out of town a few years after telling her he found her boring and hard to handle, the blond woman’s self-confidence has been totally shot.

Eventually, Alice drives her home. Clara takes the time to water the plants at the front of her house and wheels herself up the ramp to her front door and then inside.

Once alone, the wooden floors and sparse furniture feel lonely. Is it a problem? After all, Clara likes being alone. She’s never had luck with men, even before her muscular sclerosis. She knows she’s quiet and not all that friendly, although it isn’t intentional. Aw, hell, it’s not just men, it’s everyone. Even friends are a little hard to come by, even when she wants them. She’s visually pretty, sure. Pretty isn’t everything.

She’s not like Alice, who would rather gut herself than have many friends or date again. Clara wants that. It’s just that there’s no one who meets her standards. Even if there was, what would she say? How would she trust them? Would they understand the complexities of her experience without infantilizing her or treating her like a chore or some piece of fine china?

Rolling through the living room, she stares out the wide windows of her house toward the sea. Clara’s breath gets stuck in her throat, and she swallows. Slumping a little, she pulls herself out of the wheelchair and transfers to the recliner.

Curling into herself as much as she can without pain, she stares at the ocean, lit by midday sun. The water looks true blue like this, fading to reflective white near the horizon. Clara pretends for a moment that she can see creatures under the surface. She pretends that the darker spots of blue in the water are stingrays or shoals of fish, as if either of those would be common here.

Eventually, she falls asleep, head falling against the side of the recliner and hair fluffing out around her.

Clara dreams of music. She dreams of the smooth wood of the concert hall under foot and the way the orchestra chairs felt. Under her hand, paper rustles. She runs her fingers over the pages, pointer finger following a crescendo. The feeling of her instrument, the weight of it, calms her. In the dream space, she drops below the surface of melody and falls somewhere safe, where she’s hidden within the string section.

When she wakes from her nap, the evening sun is burning her eyes orange. Raising a hand, she covers her face. It stings her skin, making her uncomfortable. She feels drool on the side of her mouth.

Transferring painfully to her wheelchair, she turns from the window. Clara starts to wheel to the kitchen, but her brain stays behind in the dream. Why am I going back to this again? It’s probably because her mother brought it up.

Drawn to the other room, she wheels to her study. Going to the closet, she struggles and opens the huge cello case. A shiver runs through her body. Biting her lip, she reaches out and drifts her fingers over the polished wood and strings. She picks up the bow, giving it an experimental slide.

It’s so out of tune, Clara flinches. The sound winds into her, and she immediately replaces the bow and closes the case. She struggles and puts it back where it belongs, closing the closet. Once it’s away, she feels safer. With the instrument out of sight, Clara tries to put it out of mind.

It doesn’t work. She fixates—she misses playing—she misses the music—she misses composing. Sure, music criticism keeps her brain occupied and still within the realm of her art but not the realm of her heart.

It’s not her fault she stopped playing. OK, it is her fault, but it’s more complicated than she would describe to anyone.

What needs to be changed for her to get back to music? What would need to happen to allow her to play again, to face the thing she loves most?

It isn’t that she physically can’t play. It’s a mental can’t. Clara knows she can play, but every day makes her more afraid to deal with how rusty she’ll be when she eventually tries. If she messes up playing now, everyone will pity her. They’ll all think, Oh, we predicted it. It’s OK, Clara. No one expects you to play as well.

The thought makes her want to break down. If she really can’t play right, it’ll be her fault—not the fault of her disability. To know that people expect her to fail even when she knows she’s capable keeps her away—keeps her bow from the instrument.

Hell, even if she plays well, people will pin it on her illness. They’ll congratulate her for being brave and for being an inspiration to disabled people everywhere, not understanding that there’s nothing about Clara’s specific disability that should really make playing dramatically harder. Clara’s worked for her whole life to play this instrument the way she can. The idea of that accomplishment being minimized by her disability hurts.

Rolling back and sitting in the middle of her empty, sunset-lit study, Clara presses a hand to her face, covering her eyes and slowly breathing in and out. She won’t cry. That’s not her style. This isn’t worth crying over. The past overwhelms her, taking her emotions down with it in a big wave. Clara pulls closer to herself.

Backing out of the study, she goes to the kitchen and grabs a wine bottle from the fridge. Pouring it into a glass, she takes a big gulp. Ignoring as much of her experience of emotion as she can, she pulls out the cheese and bread, cutting them up and eating them with the wine.

Cara only drinks enough to take the bite of her feelings off at first. The more the sting starts to fade, the less of the bottle she finds there is. She’s not an alcoholic. She’s just…occasionally avoidant, that’s all. It’s not a problem yet. Thinking about the issue just makes her feel bad, so it’s better not to think at all.

Once the sun sets, leaving her house dark and shadowed in blue, Clara calls it a night. In her bedroom, she pulls off her clothing and puts on pajamas before crawling into bed. When sleep and exhaustion and a half-drunk headache pull her back into dreams, they aren’t of music.

Hours later, she wakes to the quiet beeping of the remote on her dresser. Shifting in bed, Clara reaches for the plastic item and stares at it. The tiny light next to button C, the one corresponding to the patio door, is flashing red. Her stomach lurches. That means the door is open.

Clara stops breathing. Staying completely quiet, she listens for noise outside of her open bedroom door. Somewhere in the living room, there’s someone stepping on floorboards. Immediately, her heart hammers in her chest even harder. There’s someone inside the house.

Call the police? She left her phone is in the kitchen after making dinner. Clara tries not to panic. She needs to think rationally. What can she do?

Her wheelchair will be too loud on the tiled kitchen floor. If she can stand at all, it wouldn’t be for long. It would be a miracle if she could get to the kitchen undetected.

Slipping out of bed and into her waiting wheelchair, she sticks the remote in the pocket of her pajama pants. As careful with the wheels as she can be, she slowly rolls into the hallway. It’s wood floor all the way into the main area of the living room. To the left, near the kitchen and the front door, it becomes tile. She’ll have to walk from the edge of the hallway to the kitchen and hope not to be caught. She wished she could send for help from her computer, but the study can only be accessed from the other side of the living room.

Biting her lip, Clara summons strength and rolls her wheelchair down the hallway.

When she reaches the beginning of the living room, she sees him—a man, too dark to identify properly, lying on her couch. He’s breathing in soft, snoring wheezes. Oh, thank God. The patio door is closed now, too, but the lock looks broken.

There’s not supposed to be crime here. This is a small town. Why is an unfamiliar man in her house?

Wheeling as far as she can, right to the edge of the tile, Clara struggles to stand. Moving to the counter, she moves with wobbly, pained steps toward her phone. Once she gets there, she leans her elbows against the counter and opens the lock screen. Clara shakes, body too weak for this even on a good day. She types in a number.

A hand grabs her wrist before she can push call, yanking it away. “Don’t. Let me explain—”

His voice is deep and quiet, vibrating through Clara’s whole body. Her heart thumps out of her chest, screaming for fight or flight. There’s no flight—she can barely stand, and she can’t run with him holding one of her arms. Fight takes over and her hand latches onto the kettle on the stove nearby.

The next moment feels like an out-of-body experience. Throwing her arm forward, Clara hits the strange man in the head with the metal teakettle. He yells, dropping her wrist, and she struggles back with shaking legs.

Her body’s too weak. Legs falling from underneath her, she drops onto her ass with a yelp. The man doesn’t seem to notice or care. Gurgling, he buries his face in his hands and groans. He stumbles back into the island in the middle of the kitchen, bending over himself and screaming in pain.

Horrified, Clara watches fur burst from his skin. His limbs get bigger, seeming to melt into each other as he becomes a larger form. Hyperventilating, Clara tries to get away, pulling herself back. She tries to struggle to her feet to no avail. The man becomes a monster in front of her eyes, and a wild growl comes out of his mouth.

Shifter. Her brain feeds her an explanation, but it’s not an answer or an escape. Bear shifter.

Looking up, she watches the creature’s head bump against the high ceiling of her kitchen, making two of the hanging lamps spark and shatter as they fall. Sleek white fur and huge paws fall back onto the ground, shaking her plates and freezing her in her bones.

The polar bear lurches toward her. Before she knows it, it swipes her to the left with one huge paw, and her body goes flying, hitting the sliding glass door. The glass cracks, some of it shattering down on top of her. Her vision lurches, and it takes a moment for her head to start hurting. A warm sensation stings her shoulder and arm.

When Clara groans, twisting a little, something snaps. The sound of the bear growling seems far away but not far enough. Even as she drops out of consciousness and into painful dreams, the speed at which her heart thumps in her chest doesn’t slow.

Chapter 2

A bitter, insistent ray of light forces Clara back to the waking world. It tugs at her, breaking her dreams like shattered glass, until she has no choice but to open her eyes.

When she wakes, Clara does so abruptly. Her eyes fly open, her entire body throwing itself into action at once. Gasping, she blinks to get the blinding sting of sunlight out of her eyes.

Once the initial shock fades and her heart rate goes down somewhat, she attempts to breathe normally. Her lungs ache from the effort, but eventually she gets used to it. When she’s calm enough to evaluate her situation, she looks around.

Soft midday sun breaks through the blinds of her bedroom. She’s in the bedroom, and Clara wonders if everything that happened was a dream. One glance at her hand proves otherwise. Her arm is wrapped in bandages and splint. Underneath the covers, Clara can feel more bandaging.

Under the bandaging, burning pain crosses from near her shoulder to near her abdomen, striped. Claw marks?

Panic threatens to overtake her, but she forces herself to breathe. She’s in her house and not in the hospital. Why? Did doctors or police come? If they did, why would she be treated at her home instead of a hospital or at least a clinic?

Alice? No, Alice doesn’t know medical care. Clara doesn’t know of anyone else who would visit and take care of her.

That is, unless…unless the man stayed. Mouth opening slightly, Clara tilts her head toward the doorway. She immediately regrets doing so, however, as an intense pain seems to wrap around the tendons in her neck.

Quieting her breathing, she listens to the rest of the house. The only sound that registers is the whistling wind.

Clara’s wheelchair has been replaced near the bed. Furrowing her brow, she considers trying to get into it. The knowledge that at least one bone in her arm is likely broken and she’s injured in at least two other ways doesn’t make that seem any easier.

Curiosity and anxiety about what’s happened, however, drive her to try. As she sits in bed, pain spirals up her spine and tries to choke her. She swallows, looking to the bedside table. A glass of water and bottle of Ibuprofen have been left for her. Clara gnaws on her lip before reaching for the water and swallowing two tablets.

It won’t be enough, but hopefully it’ll help take some of the edge off.

Using her one free hand, Clara reaches for the wheelchair and somehow manages to pull it closer. Once it’s close, she drags herself off the bed and into the chair with a pained whine. She breathes in sharply, leaning her head back.

The hard part over, Clara considers how to steer with limited mobility. Pushing her broken arm back so she can reach the back part of the wheel without bending her arm at the elbow, she starts to turn the wheelchair. It takes fiddling, but eventually she manages to get out her bedroom door and down the hallway to the living room.

She was wrong about the midday lighting. It’s evening, the light slowly fading. How long was I out? Most noticeable, however, is the damage from the other night is still there.

Near the edge of the kitchen, the pieces of broken lamp have been swept into a dustpan. Clear plastic is secured over the opening of the broken sliding glass door, taped firmly on all sides. Rolling awkwardly forward, she looks around as much as she can without straining her neck.

There’s a jacket folded over the couch, a jacket she doesn’t recognize. It’s dark gray with a hood. Clara’s heart slows in her chest, and she shivers. He’s still here, isn’t he?

There are wide scratches on the wooden floor near the sliding glass door, ones that rake in deep. It’ll be expensive to fix, which is the first thing Clara thinks when she sees it. The second thing she thinks of is the sensation of claws raking through her skin.

She drifts her unused hand to her stomach. The wounds could be much deeper. She knows she got off lucky. Before last night, she’d never seen a shifter that big. In college, she had a friend who was a bird shifter. That’s a completely different ballgame than a huge polar bear in her kitchen.

Clara’s brain flashes back to the news channel in the coffee shop. Steeling her jaw, she tries not to jump to conclusions. Still, she’s not as far as she would like to be from Charlottetown, and…well, he did break into her house and attack her.

“You know, if you went to all the effort to get in the wheelchair and risk injuring yourself further, you would think a smart person would get to her phone and call the cops.”

The voice scares the bejeezus out of her. It’s the same deep, soul-vibrating, quiet one from last night. Grabbing the right wheel with her uninjured hand, she yanks it backward and awkwardly turns around after a moment of struggle. Heart jumping in her chest, she looks at the man.

He’s tall. Obviously, his height now is nothing compared to the polar bear form she saw last night, but this man is definitely at least six feet tall.

His hair is dark. It’s messy, falling over his eyes. It’s wet, too—he looks like he just showered. That hypothesis is further backed by the fact that he’s shirtless, and the light glints off dampness on his tanned skin in a few places.

Clara’s mouth parts slightly. What really draws her eyes, more than the height, more than his deep, dark, uncomfortably alluring green eyes, are the bruises covering his torso. They’re everywhere, blotching every part of him. It’s not just bruises, either. He’s got a few lacerations, some covered with fresh bandages and some Band-Aids she recognizes as the purple-colored ones from her first aid cupboard.

Breathing slowly, she looks to his face. “You’re a shifter.”

The dark-haired man looks amused, his blank expression cutting apart to something a little lighter. “Astute observation. How much do you remember?”

He’s right—you should have called the cops, her brain reminds her. Hell, you should be calling them right now, Clara. She doesn’t listen. Instead, she just stares at the man and formulates her answer. “I hit you over the head. You turned into a bear. You threw me into the sliding door.” Clara nods at the clear plastic.

The man nods, looking tired. Clara realizes she probably didn’t hear noise in the house because he had just turned off the shower. Something about that rubs her the wrong way—probably the fact that it was her shower. She turns her head to the side a bit, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“Who are you, and why are you in my house?”

The dark-haired man, with that same half-gloomy, half-amused look, sighs. “Finally, a sensible question.” He pauses, glancing at the sea before he speaks again. “I’m…passing through.” His eyes drop to the ground, and the man runs a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was going to leave the house before you noticed I was here after I got a couple hours of sleep. Swear on my life, I didn’t mean to shift, but my body just does it when I’m injured—”

“—and I hit you with the tea kettle,” Clara fills in, gaining some amount of understanding. She should feel more panicked about this than she is. Probably her brain has gone so far past panic that all that’s left is blank curiosity and a desire for answers.

Relief washes over the man’s face, and he starts to speak, but she cuts him off. “What’s your name, where are you from, and why are you still here? If you didn’t mean to hurt me, why am I not at a hospital or a doctor’s office?”

He opens his mouth and then snaps it closed. Irritation washes over his face. “I’m not required to answer all that. I’m still here because I hurt you and I have an EMT certification and it’s a danger to me to take you to a hospital right now.”

“I could call the cops, like you said,” Clara points out, but the man shakes his head.

“Sorry, I didn’t actually take that risk. I hid your phone for now.” He sighs, running his fingers through dark locks.

Clara furrows her eyebrows, imagining the shift she saw last night. It looked painful. Is it always that painful?

Clara shrugs. “Your funeral.”

The man looks confused. “What?”

“My mom calls regularly to check up on me. She’s convinced I’m going to get killed out here on my. If I don’t answer the phone, she’s sure to call the cops and send them here.” Clara gives the man an ugly smirk. “So you holding me hostage here won’t work.”

Anger flares in the man’s eyes, and he steps toward her, grabbing her chin and staring down at her. “I am not,” he spits, “holding you hostage. I’d be gone already and on my way somewhere else if I hadn’t hurt you.”

She smacks his hand away. “And you can’t just take me to a hospital like a normal person?”

“No,” he says, “It’s complicated. I’m sorry.”

Clara grits her teeth, using one hand to roll herself back a few feet, into the kitchen island. “I asked for your name. I want your name, if you won’t give me anything else.”

A shadow passes over the man’s expression, and for a moment Clara thinks he’s about to shift, or strike out, or just flat out refuse again. When he finally opens his mouth, his hard expression softens. “Nathanael.” Then he corrects. “Nathan.”

“Thank you,” she says, slumping into her wheelchair.

Nathan looks like he’s waiting for something. When she doesn’t give it, he speaks. His voice is low and gravelly and quiet. “What about your name?”

“Oh. Clara,” she answers. She brings her eyes to meet Nathan’s. “Why did you break into my house? Why not go to a hotel if you just needed a place to stay?”

He shakes his head. “Not possible. It’s complicated.”

“What’s not complicated?” She snaps, and the man jolts. “What can you explain to me?”

The shifter’s mouth gapes. “Look, I can’t tell you everything. I’m being followed, and staying in a hotel would leave a trace.”

Clara’s heart lurches as her mind travels back to the news of the Charlottetown murder. She gnaws on her lip, unsure how to respond to him. Her attempts to be headstrong would work better if she wasn’t afraid below the surface. “Is that why you’re all covered in bruises? Were you in a fight?”

The man furrows his eyebrows as if confused and then blinks in realization. “No, that’s…” He grits his teeth. “That’s something else. It happens when I shift.”

Nathan stares at her and steps forward and kneels in front of her. She tries not to pull away as he clasps his hands around her free right hand.

“There’s too much to explain. I can’t tell you. If you go to a hospital, my scent will be on you and in your skin and other shifters will find you and use that to find me. Please. I’m begging you. Let me stay here and take care of your injuries just for a few days, and then I’ll be gone.” He looks desperate. “I wasn’t here to steal. There’s no cover outside, and the wind would carry too much of my scent if I slept there.”

His eyes, dark green and pulling her in, soften as he practically begs on his knees. Skeptical, Clara turns her head to the side. She shouldn’t accept this. His mouth twitches a little, and she watches as he bites his lip in the same nervous habit she has.

That does it. The similarity makes her give in. The excitement is too strong, or maybe it’s just…maybe it’s just his eyes? Unfortunately, definitely the eyes.

Her heart skips. Don’t do that, Clara.

“You can stay,” she says. “Just for a few days. Until I’m more patched up.” Clara drops her gaze.

Nathan lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll help with chores. I’ll cook. I’ll do whatever you need—”

“Can you start by watering my plants?” Clara asks, raising an eyebrow. He looks at her, eyes widening. He looks softer like that. He’s young, close to her age.

Nathan glances at the patio. “Yes. I’ll do that.” He stands and starts to go and turns back. “I can help you back to your room—”

“Maybe just the couch in here?” Clara forces a tiny smile, although the situation is still tense and uncomfortable. Clara, you idiot, why aren’t you asking him to leave?

He pushes the wheelchair to the couch. She’s about to stand, but he’s too fast. Nathan picks her up in his arms. Head pressed against his chest, she feels her heart flip. His arms are muscular, and his chest seems broader. She breathes in, closing her eyes as he sets her down.

Looking up at him, she opens her mouth and thinks about telling him that she could have stood on her. Something makes her hold back, though. She’s not sure if it’s a desire to keep that fact a secret in case she ever needs it to escape or just a desperate, underlying desire for him to pick her up again.

Exhaustion hits her again, even though she’s done almost nothing but sleep for most of the last twenty-four hours. She closes her eyes as Nathan steps into the other room. When he comes back, she opens her eyes just enough to see he’s holding her phone.

Nathan deliberates for a moment, eventually setting it on the TV stand—far enough that she can’t reach it easily, but not so far that he’s making a deliberate decision to stop her. He’s probably keeping it there so that he can hand the phone to Clara if her mom calls.

Unsure what she should even do in this situation, she pulls into herself, keeping her arms close. Clara closes her eyes once she hears him go outside, but she doesn’t intend to sleep.

Unfortunately, her body has other plans. When she finally wakes up again, someone is gently shaking her arm. She snaps her eyes open, gasping and sitting up. Immediately, pain speaks through her stomach and arm, and she cries out. Nathan’s hands steady her.

“Calm. It’s just me.”

“You talk like you’re an old friend of mine,” she murmurs, heart racing. He helps her lie back down, and she tries to breathe slowly. It’s long past dark now. He has two bowls of pasta and hands her one.

Clara stares at it for a moment. Laughing under his breath a little, Nathan takes a bite of his. “It’s not poisoned.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Clara quips. “If you wanted me dead or drugged, you’d have done that already.”

Nathan’s face pales. “Why would I want you drugged?”

“You know, sometimes men…” Clara trails off, feeling put off by his horrified expression. “I know you wouldn’t do anything like that—”

“You don’t know anything about me,” the dark-haired man snaps, standing and plopping down in the chair next to her. He takes a few bites of his pasta and sets it down, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“And whose fault is that?” Clara says after a moment. This gets Nathan’s attention, and he opens and closes his mouth like she’s put him in the spotlight.

She takes the initiative. “My name is Clara Summers. I’m a music critic. I have muscular sclerosis and cannot walk most of the time, as you may have noticed. Before you ask— no, I haven’t been in a wheelchair my whole life. The disease usually develops in people in their late teens and early twenties. It became symptomatic when I was eighteen, and at twenty-three it progressed to the point that I use a wheelchair as a mobility aid most the time.”

Smiling, she takes a bite of the pasta and continues. “I was born in Vancouver. I enjoy gardening and staring at the beach, given that it’s not very wheelchair accessible. What about you?”

He stares at her. “My name is Nathan.” He pauses, furrowing his brow. She looks at his clenched jaw and wishes it didn’t elicit the heart-flipping reaction it does. “I was born in Yukon, but I’ve always moved around a lot.”

“Yeah? Do you have family?” she pries, half out of curiosity and half because she wants to deduce his identity.

Nathan nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, running one hand through his messy, pitch-black locks. Clara can’t help but stare. “I have an older sister, Naomi.”

“Do you two get along?”

“Sometimes,” Nathan says with a tiny smile. He glances out the windows. “I figure she’s probably coming for me.”

Clara’s eyes open wider. “Is she a shifter, too?”

Sighing into his palm, Nathan nods again. “She’s something they call the ‘guardian of the blood clan.’ She’s stronger. She can erase memory and do other things. She and a friend of mine are both guardians.” He narrows his eyes at Clara with a sly smile that makes her shiver. “I wouldn’t surprise if both came to drag my ass back, really.”

“You’re running away from them? Why?”

Nathanael shakes his head, standing and taking her empty food bowl as well as his to the kitchen a few steps away. “A misunderstanding.”

“What kind?”

This time, he stays silent. Irritated, Clara lies down. Pain tingles her torso where she knows she’s cut. Eventually, Nathan comes back with more Ibuprofen and some of the Ambien prescribed to help her sleep. Ready to not be conscious anymore, she takes it and quickly falls asleep.

The next few days pass uneventfully. Nathan, who is mostly distant and gloomy, cooks and gardens and does chores. He brings Clara her laptop so she can work, and Clara tells people she’s fine, despite knowing she should probably call the police.

Still, something draws her to Nathan in a way she can’t ignore. She’s caught him staring, too—usually through the window when he gardens. His eyes are so dark but they glint moss green in the light. The bruises on his golden skin, along with the lacerations she saw before, quickly disappear.

Eventually, her body catches up and she stops sleeping so much. One day, she wakes before he can change her bandages while she sleeps. Clara is reading when he comes inside and kneels by the couch. “I’m going to change all the gauze. OK, Clara?”

Those dark eyes look up at her. “OK,” she breathes.

Nathan is careful when he takes her left arm. Tired and intrigued, she watches the man work.

He unwraps the bandages, holding her wrist in place. She’s glad he does—as soon as she sees the skin, the damage becomes clear. Her wrist feels weak, and the thought of bending it makes her feel faint. The skin is dappled with ugly green and black bruising.

“You broke my wrist,” she says, more observation than question.

Avoiding her gaze, Nathan nods. “Yeah. Sorry.” Once the bandages are off, he releases her arm. Picking up a damp, warm towel, he wipes the skin. “Dislocated your elbow, too.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” she says sarcastically, and he looks up to see the tiny smile on her face.

He keeps cleaning and then starts rewrapping her arm with the splint. “Why are you so calm about this? Me being here and all of it, I mean.”

Clara bites her lip, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know. It seems unavoidable, doesn’t it?” She pauses “I know it’s foolish, but you don’t…you don’t scare me much, really.”

Something dark flashes in Nathan’s eyes. “That is foolish. I injured you. Don’t forget it.”

After a moment, it’s Clara’s turn to ask questions. As much as the media has hyped up the reality of shifters in the last ten years, she still knows so little. “Can’t you…I mean, aren’t shifters supposed to be able to control themselves?”

“Yes, but I’m—” Nathan clenches his hand around her wrist, making her cry out. When she does, he stops his train of thought entirely. “God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

She snatches her wrist away, hurting herself more and resting the damaged arm across her torso. “No. I want answers. Why did you attack me if shifters are all civilized and whatever the media says?”

He pauses, looking hurt. “I’m…a little different. It’s complicated.”

“You haven’t given me a single answer in the last few days,” she snaps, “I have a right to know. You broke into my house. I haven’t told anyone you’re here. It’s the least you can do.”

Nathan seems cornered. The expression slowly drops to something glowering and bitter. “I just can’t control myself as easily as everyone else, OK? It’s a genetic thing. I can’t change it.” He sighs. “No one works on shifter medication because people don’t like shifters, so there’s nothing I can do about it. It just makes it painful to shift, and when I do shift, I’m usually more animal than human. That’s why there were bruises when you first saw me.”

“Oh,” she says, “I didn’t know that shifter-only disorders existed.”

“They do. They’re not well researched and unfortunately for me, there’s no good treatment plan for them.” Nathan avoids her gaze, securing the last bit of bandaging on her neck and arm. Pausing, his irritated expression melts to something hesitant.

Clara rests a hand on his arm. “What?”

“I need to— “he starts, “I need to change the bandages on your stomach and legs.”

This makes Clara pause. The thought of him touching her body like that, even just to tend to her wounds, makes something inside her stir. The realization hits her a moment later, however, that it’s already happened. “Wait, you’ve been tending to my bandages while I’ve been asleep. You’ve already done that, so why is it an issue now?”

“Because you’re awake,” Nathan explains, making direct eye contact. His expression is more serious than awkward now, and something about the way he looks at her makes Clara feel vulnerable in a predator-prey way.

“Oh,” she murmurs out, still not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Oh.” Nathan rests his hand on the couch cushion. “So, are you comfortable with that or not? If not, you’ll have to do it yourself, and I don’t think that will go over well. It has to be done, though. An infection is the worst thing that could happen right now.”

Clara deliberates for a moment. The truth is that it isn’t really a decision—if anything, she wants him to touch her. “OK,” she breathes. “OK. You can do it.”

Nodding, Nathan reaches for her shirt. Focused, he unbuttons the blue pajama top before slipping it down to pool around her elbows. Carefully he peels away the gauze secured with adhesive tape to her chest.

Clara breathes shallowly, staring as he works. The wounds aren’t as deep as she had thought. Nathan soon validates this. “You’re healing up well. Is there much pain?”

Clara thinks, then shakes her head. “Not where the cuts are, no.”

“Good.” Nathan smiles before getting up and getting a fresh cloth.

When he returns, he gently wipes her torso. He reaches where the lacerations cut between her breasts, and he gently lifts her bra at the middle and smooths the cloth. Clara breathes shakily, finely attuned to the touch of his left hand as he cleans her injuries with the cloth in his right. With that area done, he replaces her bra and slides the cloth, and his touch, up to her shoulder. The cuts end near her collarbone.

Nathan doesn’t look at her as he works. Breathing through her nose, she opens her mouth and asks the question on her mind. “How do you keep so serious doing this?”

“What do you mean? I have some medical training, I told you that.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Clara shakes her head. “Doesn’t this feel…I mean, isn’t it—” She pauses, biting her lip. Slowly, on impulse, she grabs his hand and pulls it to her face so she’s breathing on Nathan’s fingers. “Isn’t it intimate or embarrassing?”

Nathan’s eyes open wide and then soften into the sleepy, self-assured expression that she’s grown to look forward to. “It wasn’t before,” he says, curling his fingers and brushing them against Clara’s cheek. “But maybe now it is.”

Nathan tucks a chunk of hazelnut-colored locks behind her ear, staring at her with an expression can’t read. “Your hair is soft,” he murmurs. He starts to pull his hand away.

He’s not fast enough. Clara grabs his wrist before he can stand and leave. He frowns. “Let me go, Clara.”

“Why are you so distant?” she demands. “You feel something. Why are you running? Is there someone else. Is that why the other shifters are following you?”

Nathan snatches his hand away, wincing. Something pained flashes in his eyes, and Clara realizes that she’s said something hurtful. “No,” he answers quickly, dropping his hand to his side. “There’s no one else.”

“I’m going to make breakfast.” The dark-haired man turns and starts to go.

Clara panics. She can feel the moment fading, slipping away with every second. Desperate to cling onto his warmth, she calls out. “Nathanael—”

Jolting at the use of his full name, he stops in his tracks and turns. Clara opens and closes her mouth, trying to think of what to say. “What if it didn’t mean anything? What if you just…what if you let go of whatever’s hurting you, just for a moment?”

She sits, swinging her legs over the side of the couch. Shakily, Clara forces herself to stand. Legs wobbling and in pain, she braces herself by clinging to the edge of the couch and then the table. Nathan watches, eyes wide. He seems shocked and takes a step back as she walks toward him. She’s got the worst pins and needles she’s had in weeks, but she swallows it down until she staggers into him, falling into his body.

“I don’t know why I trust you because I shouldn’t,” she pleads, feet slipping. Clara clings to Nathan’s body, wrapping her arms around his back and shoving her face into his chest. “But I do. Please don’t run from me. You’re not the only one who’s struggling. I feel something, and I think you do, too—”

Her legs buckle. Her heart jumps in her chest. At the last second, Nathan catches her, pulling her up, his arms steadying her around her back and waist.

“You’re right,” he breathes into her neck, making her shiver. “I do feel something.”

It feels natural when Nathan kisses her. They mold together. His lips are soft, and he tastes like mint.

Melting into his arms, she clings to him. Before long, he wraps his hands under her ass, lifting her up and bringing her back to the couch. When he sets her down, she folds her arms around his neck. His touch is so warm. Nathan’s hair falls into her eyes, tickling her forehead. When he looks down with those deep-green eyes, it feels like her heart is being slowly strangled in the best way possible.

He breathes in short gasps, almost like he’s panicking. Worried, Clara furrows her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid,” he blurts out, voice low and gravelly. “My last partner—”

“—she isn’t here,” Clara fills in gently, bringing her right hand to his face and running her thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m here, Nathan.”

He nods slowly, maintaining eye contact that she could drown in. When he exhales, she can feel the warmth on her face. “You’re here,” he murmurs, echoing her words.

He leans his body into hers, his closeness and heat making her feel short of breath. Nathan looks down at her, pressing his hand to her open hip where her shirt is still open. “I…still need to clean the wounds on your legs.”

Gently, intentionally, he slides his hand down to Clara’s thighs. “Go ahead,” she breathes, shivering. He drifts his lips over her jaw to her neck. There, he leaves tender kisses where there are no bandages. Nathan’s mouth is slightly parted—Clara can tell from the way his breath stimulates her skin.

Slowly, he drifts his kisses down, over her collarbone. As they get closer, he reaches his hands behind her back and unclips the bra. To get it off, he slides the shirt off her body first. Clara shivers under his touch on his arms, relishing the warmth of his skin and the way he’s firm and gentle with her at the same time.

When her breasts are exposed to the air, he cups one in his hand before letting go. Drifting those godly lips down her skin, Nathan leaves fleeting kisses that sting and make Clara’s breath hitch. “Nathan—”

“Quiet,” he breathes, voice lilting. “I need to focus on first aid, love—” The pet name makes her shiver, but she complies nonetheless.

He slips both hands to the hem of her pajama pants, pulling them down her hips slowly, then over her knees and, finally, off her body. Left in just her black and white polka-dotted panties and the bandages around her neck, arm, legs, and across her chest, Clara shivers.

This doesn’t slip past Nathan. He rubs his hands up and down her torso and then grabs a blanket and wraps it around her shoulders as she sits against the couch.

Intimately, carefully, he unwraps the bandages and puts them in the small trash can near the couch. He gets a new washcloth. When he comes back, it’s still dripping. He rings it out over Clara’s shoulders, hips, and legs. Laughing, she brings her uninjured hand to his hip and runs it under the hem of his shirt.

Taking her cue, he strips off the shirt. Underneath, the bruises are barely visible anymore. If Clara thought she’d gotten used to his looks, his body, she was wrong.

Nathan tosses the fabric to the side before kneeling once more. He runs the washcloth over the nearly closed lacerations on her legs. There’s not much damage there, and she knows he doesn’t need to be as thorough as he’s being.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want him to be, though.

Clara chokes on her breath as he smooths ointment over the skin. Next, the new bandages. When he wraps them around, he’s meticulous and slow. They feel snug around her legs. Looking down, Clara is struck over the head again by how truly gorgeous this man is.

She brings her hand to his face, brushing some of the messy, black locks behind one ear. He stares at her through narrowed eyes, a playful smirk on his face. “What can I do for you next, my mistress? I aim only to serve.”

Nathan runs his hand over the side of Clara’s thigh, dancing his fingers and leaving lines of fire. Clara tries to think of something witty to say. Her mind totally blanks under the weight of how much she wants him, and she’s left staring dumbly into his beautiful, stupid, breathtaking eyes.

“Please,” is all that comes out when she opens her mouth. She can feel desperation under the surface.

Nathan laughs, leaning his head into her thigh. It’s quiet, but it’s a real laugh followed by a real smile. “OK, Clara.” Her name sounds like liquid gold out of his mouth.

He slides a hand to her panties, gently sliding his fingers over the thin fabric. He touches her over and over until the light touching hits a spot near her clit that makes her breath hitch. She bucks her hips slightly, but Nathan shoves them down with one hand.

Teasing with his eyes, he slowly increases pressure. He rocks his hand back and forth, grinding into her most sensitive spot. As he does, he leans into her neck and leaves a trail of breathy, sensual kisses.

When Clara thinks she can’t take any more, he sinks to his knees and pulls her hips closer to the edge of the couch. She slumps back, succumbing to the smooth, warm touch of his hands. Nathan pulls Clara’s panties to the side and leans in, flicking his tongue against her clit.

She whines, legs shaking. Nathan presses her thighs down and brings his mouth closer. Teasing her with his tongue, he flicks his tongue against her and sucks her clit. He drifts his mouth down a little, pressing his tongue against her opening. Falling into the sensation, Clara moans and weaves the fingers of her right hand into her hair. “God, Nathan—” she breathes.

Riding the sensation, she lies back and lets him pleasure her in the sunlit living room. His mouth feels so good, his technique impeccable. Clara’s mind goes into a fuzzy, warm space. He rolls his tongue against her skin, teasing. As soon as she gets close, he backs off.

Eventually, she whines at him. “Nathan, please—” He looks up, detaching his mouth.

“Hm?”

Grabbing him by the face, she brings him up to her level and pulls him into a deep kiss. All the while, she grinds her hips up into his hardness. Nathan takes the lead, kissing deeper and reaching one hand down to undo his fly.

When he finally pulls away, he’s gasping. The sound of his voice, breathy and needy, makes something pulse between Clara’s thighs. Once his pants are off, Nathan pushes Clara down with her back on the couch cushions. Nathan’s eyes are soft, but she can feel a glimmer of the hungering beast inside of him.

“Are you OK with this?” he asks, voice gone lower than normal. There’s almost a purr to it, and Clara feels an electric shiver run up her legs to her hips and what’s between them.

“Yes,” she practically groans. “God, yes. Please, no more teasing.”

He nods, his smile turning into a sly smirk. He leans down, kissing inside of the crook of her neck. “You’re lovely, Clara.”

He positions his length between her legs. Slowly, carefully, he pushes in. His breath hitches against her skin, and Clara moans in a quiet murmur. She didn’t get a chance to see his length, but as he pushes all the way inside, she gets a pretty good idea of the size. Clara gasps, clutching onto him.

“This OK?” he asks into her ear. She makes a nondescript half whine, half nod, and he laughs quietly, almost nervously. “I’m glad.”

He pulls out most of the way, then slowly pushes back in. Leaving teasing, desperate, heated kisses all over her shoulders, collarbone, jaw, and mouth, Nathan starts to push in and out. He grinds inside of her. He brings a hand back to her clit, teasing her both inside and outside.

Somehow, he manages to be careful of Clara injuries. He rocks into her, their bodies close. Clara doesn’t feel cold anymore. Her open lips brush against Nathan’s shoulder, breath dissolving into desperate gasps.

She can feel herself getting closer and closer.

“Fuck,” he says. “You feel so good.”

His voice is once again a quiet purr but more needy. Clara clings onto it, onto him, letting herself fall. His body, so much larger than her, feels like a protective barrier between her and the rest of the world. She doesn’t need one but right now, her body shielded by his, his length inside of her, it feels nice.

When she comes, she digs her nails into his back. She cries out. Clara can hear Nathan’s breathing stop, and he thrusts deeper before releasing with a low, vibrating groan. The effect of his climax rolls through her, and she gasps quietly with the vibration of his body.

Nathan pulls Clara close, lying with his back to couch so he’s spooning her. She relaxes into him, letting herself melt into his form. Her warmth pulses through her.

Clara starts to drop off in no time, lulled into a feeling of comfort she can’t recall having with a man in a long, long time.

Chapter 3

Nathan can never keep the thoughts at bay for long. Lying there, arms wrapped around Clara, he breathes into her neck and tries to relax. Of course, it doesn’t work. Before long, the ugly memories creep in.

Gently, he sits. She doesn’t wake up immediately, and Nathan stares at her. Clara’s face is so distant when she sleeps. He doesn’t actively watch her, but most of the time Nathan’s up before she is.

The early morning sun makes her warm features glow. Reaching down, he brushes her bangs out of her eyes. Clara’s hair is soft, almost ridiculously so. It fluffs around her when she sleeps, and even when it’s messy it looks nice.

Wincing, Nathan pulls away his hand. Didn’t he run just to get away from all this? Didn’t he specifically tell himself that he wouldn’t mate again? She’s human, though—would she still count as a mate, or just…a girlfriend? He’s not sure. Naomi would know the specifics, but he doesn’t want to ask her. It’s all just shifter-specific linguistics, anyway.

Clara was right. This doesn’t have to mean anything long-term. Still, he needs to leave this house as soon as he can. Hell, he should probably leave now, but he’d feel guilty. Clara’s got more movement ability than he’d originally thought, but he’s seen how hard it is for her to use her wheelchair with one hand out of commission.

Obviously, even these defenses are excuses for the fact that he knows this shouldn’t be happening. There isn’t anywhere else for him to go. Home? No, he’s seen the news. He knows they’re looking for him. Nathan’s members of his shifter blood clan will try and drag him back home any minute now.

Ultimately, isn’t what’s happening with Clara closer to what he wants? All this running has just been to try to find a place where he doesn’t have to shift and can live as human without other shifters harassing him into their lifestyle. Very few of them understand his situation. Being a shifter has always been harder for him than for other shifters, and that’s something Naomi and Luka and the others have never understood.

The sticky, post-sex feeling overrides the oxytocin release, and he struggles to his feet. Nathan bends and picks up Clara in his arms. Shaking awake, she looks up at him. “Mm?”

“Need to clean up,” he murmurs, and her tired brain accepts this answer. Holding her tighter, he carries her to the bathroom and turns on the water for the large bathtub.

He’s going to have to rewrap all her injuries. Sighing, he pulls off all the bandages and tosses them in the trash. Once the water is warm and filled up high enough, he lifts Clara and helps her sit up in the water. Her eyes open, and she reaches a hand up, brushing her thumb over his lips. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be, are you?”

Ignoring that comment entirely, he gets a washcloth and helps her wash. Once she’s clean and wrapped again, he jumps in the shower himself. That show is equipped with a seat in it, which is nice because his body’s still aching from the effect of shifting.

When he gets back to Clara’s room to bring her breakfast, she’s asleep again. He pulls the blanket over her torso and leaves the room. He puts her food in the fridge and finishes his in silence.

Tired as he is, sleep is unappealing. Instead, he pushes Clara’s wheelchair back to her room so that she can use it once she wakes up. Nathan finds gardening gloves by the front door and takes them outside to weed her garden.

Kneeling, he lets himself dissolve into the work. Pulling weeds, he digs in the garden and thins some of her flowers so that they don’t choke each other. Nathan’s so distracted by the work that it takes his ears to register that someone’s speaking to him. When he does, he whips around. The woman shrieks, jumping back a few feet. Nathan finds himself in a defensive, territorial position—one that’s far too close to his shifter roots. Relaxing, he slowly stands.

She’s skinny and blond and taller than Clara. Her eyes are wide, wobbling, and Nathan gets a feeling of terrified prey from her. This must be Alice, the friend Clara mentioned. He relaxes his form. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Alice’s mouth snaps open and closed. After a moment, she manages to speak. “Who are you?”

Shit. He tries to think of a reasonable answer. “I’m a friend of Clara’s.” He brushes dark hair behind his ear and gives her his most charming smile. “She didn’t tell you? I thought she had reached out to let you know I was visiting. You’re Alice, right? She’s told me all about you.”

A blush tints Alice’s face. “I must have forgotten if she did tell me.” She trails off. “Is she here?”

Nathan gestures a thumb at the bedroom. “Yeah, but sleeping. Is it urgent?”

“Oh!” Alice’s eyes light up. “No, I just wanted to come say hello and talk to her, but if she’s asleep, I’ll go.”

“Yeah, maybe for now.” Nathan smiles. “Come back and we can all have coffee. You can tell me about your novels. Clara says they’re very good.”

This makes Alice absolutely light up. “Of course!” She looks away. “I’ll be going, but it was nice meeting you, uh…?”

“Nathan,” he answers.

“Nathan,” she affirms. “Well, bye!” Backing up, she darts down the hill.

Once she’s gone, Nathan relaxes. Sighing, he gets back to work. He’d heard about the anxious author neighbor, but she’s much flightier in person. Nathan digs in the garden for a few more hours before returning inside.

Clara has managed to roll herself into the other room again, even with her injuries. She’s on the couch when he walks in, computer on her lap and headphones plugged in. She looks up and waves as he walks in. Nathan waves back, but his heart pangs as he drifts to the kitchen to reheat her food.

His heart shouldn’t flutter when he sees her, not after everything that’s happened and certainly not this soon after meeting her. He brings her the food, but after then Nathan stays pretty detached. Focusing on chores is emotionally easier than focusing on whatever the hell is happening with Clara, which is a door he doesn’t want to open.

Later that evening, while he’s sleeping on the couch and Clara is back in her room, he smells them. The scent hits him like a truck, dragging him from his rest and making his eyes snap wide open. It rolls over him, making him shiver. If he was in bear form, his fur would bristle. In human form, the hair on his arms and legs stands up.

He sits, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch. Fuck. Nathan doesn’t want to face them, but Naomi will absolutely break in if he doesn’t. The less commotion there is, the better.

Nathan. There’s her voice, invading his mind. Open the goddamn door.

Grinding his teeth, he throws the blanket off and steps across the smooth wood floor to the entryway. Throwing open the door, he stares at his older sister. She’s standing with arms crossed over her chest, pitch-black hair pulled into a ponytail. Next to her is Luka, who looks as bored as usual and won’t even make eye contact. His bronze hair is messy, cowlicked, and falling in thick locks around tan skin.

Naomi grabs Nathan by the arm, yanking him outside and closing the door. “Whose goddamn house is this? Are you breaking and entering now?”

“No!” he lies just a little, omitting the fact that he absolutely did break into Clara’s house the first time. It’s a good thing she can only project her thoughts into his head and not hear his thoughts. “A woman is allowing me to stay here.”

Naomi wrinkles her nose. “You smell like sex. Does she know about your problems?”

That makes Nathan flare up. His heart aches, and he shoves her forward, forcing Naomi to step down the stairs. “I didn’t kill Mihra—”

“We know,” Luka snaps, finally speaking up. “I think she meant your illness.”

“You didn’t kill her. We know what happened, but you being on your is—” Naomi adds, but Nathan interrupts.

“I’m not some uncontrollable monster.”

“But it’s harder for you to control yourself, and you know that.” Naomi doesn’t back down. She steps forward, letting him feel her energy. Nathan shrinks. She pokes his chest. “You have bruising here. Did you shift? Did anyone see you?”

“No,” he lies.

Naomi catches it, going into overprotective guardian mode. “The woman did. I’m going to erase her memory—”

She steps forward to open the door, but Nathan grabs her by the shoulder and shoves her away on impulse. The force of his push makes her stagger down the steps. Nathan grits his teeth.

“This is my life. I’m not just your idiot older brother. I just want to stay somewhere where I don’t have to shift. I don’t want any of what you all want. You can go home. Leave me the hell alone and keep your guardian powers far away. How did you even find me here?”

“We’ve been here a few days already, biding our time. I got a job working for this woman’s neighbor, Alice. She told me about you.” Luka brings his eyes up to Nathan’s, still looking bored. “And actually, we can’t leave you alone. A paranormal crime investigator tracked you here.” Luka digs some dirt out from underneath his nails.

Nathan stared. “What? How?”

“People are getting better at tracking us, Nathanael,” Naomi says, gently resting her a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He pulls away, but she continues. “We think he was tracking you when you began swimming and discreetly followed by boat up to a certain point.”

Breathing shallowly, Nathan tries to swallow down his anxiety. “So he…knows I’m here?”

Naomi shakes her head. “No. But it won’t take long if you aren’t careful. Come home with us. We’ll figure things out.”

The dark-haired man hesitates, pulling farther away from his sister. His throat feels dry and painful. What should he do? If he goes home, he’ll be in the city where his mate died. Even if they move, he’ll be stuck around shifters who will never let him get away from that part of his life. Slowly, hesitantly, Nathan shakes his head.

“I want to stay. At least, longer.”

Naomi furrows her brow. “Nathan, that’s not—”

“Naomi.” Luka stops her, firmly gripping her shoulder. He nods at the other two shifters down the driveway, probably Raine and Toby. “Let’s just go. I sense he has feelings for whoever he’s staying with. Don’t push it or he’ll stress shift and then we’ll have a wild bear on her hands. Really, he’s hardly rational either way.”

Shooting Luka a glare, Nathan curls his top lip. Luka just shakes his head, rolling his eyes. When Nathan looks back to his sister, he sees hesitation in her eyes. Eventually, she caves. “OK, but not for long. When I decide I’m fed up, you’re coming back with me.”

“When will that be, Naomi?” he asks, bitterness seeping into his tone. “When you decide it’s convenient?”

“Yes,” she snaps and is about to say more before Luka drags her away. Nathan stays at the door until they’re gone, glaring all the way and hoping Naomi feels his stare pierce her back.

When he goes inside, he finds Clara sitting in the entryway. The window by the door has been opened. She looks at him with tired, questioning eyes.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighs. “Not long.” She pauses, running her hand through messy bedhead. “That was Naomi, right?”

Nathan leans against the wall and nods, feeling his heart sink. He knows this won’t last forever. Naomi will drag him back to Charlottetown or wherever she wants them to move to now. For her, it’s always about what’s best for the shifters. She was the one who always said that polar bears are solitary animals, so why is she trying to push some garbage pack dynamic now?

“We got along better before she was awoken as a guardian.” Nathan closes his eyes. “Now, it seems she cares more about what people think of shifters than how they feel about me.”

Clara is silent for a moment. Then, she opens her mouth and breathes in through her teeth. “Nathan…”

He opens his eyes, uncrossing his arms. “Hm?”

“Did you…kill the girl from Charlottetown?”

Nathan’s blood goes cold. Freezing in place, he runs a hand over his mouth and jaw. Clara’s eyes are wide, scared…

Nathan shakes his head, swallowing his pain and grief. “No.” He pauses. “But everyone seems to think I did.”

Lips parting, Clara nods. She fiddles with the hem of her shirt and avoids eye contact. It occurs to Nathan that she probably doesn’t believe him. There’s a deep sting in his sternum that won’t go away. Stepping across the floor to her, he watches her wince. He drops to his knees in front of her wheelchair.

Clasping her hand inside of his, Nathan looks at her. “I didn’t kill her. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear on my life, my blood, I would never kill anyone.” He breathes out shakily, making sure to keep the dark eye contact. He wants her to feel his intent. “I can’t control myself as easily, that’s true, but I’ve never killed anyone. I promise.”

“Who was she to you, Nathan?”

Nathan closes his eyes, dropping his head and leaning it against her legs. “Mihra was…my mate.” He opens his eyes, crossing two fingers and holding them up. “We were like this. We were going to be forever. I know not everything can last and polar bears don’t mate for life, so it was just a human relationship between shifters, but I think we would have worked out.”

“How did she die?”

Nathan shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t think about it.” It hurts. It hurts more than anything. Nathan rubs his heart area over top of the skin.

Clara doesn’t say anything, but he can assume how she feels. He knows she can’t trust him without all the information. He knows she’s frustrated. He closes his eyes again, feeling her warmth through pajama pants.

Nervously, gently, Clara runs her fingers through his hair. He breathes slowly, losing himself in her touch. She combs through his dark, tangled locks, making him feel like he could fall asleep right here, with his head on her lap. “Your hair is beautiful,” she murmurs after a while.

Nathan looks up, reaching to twirl some of her hair around his index finger. “Not like yours.” The texture is like silk.

Clara blushes. From this angle, the moonlight streaming through the skylight makes her hair look bronzed, like a halo. Nathan’s heart flips, and he curses it once again for doing so. He aches.

Standing, he backs away. Clara looks up at him cautiously, expression almost pitying. “How do I get to you?”

Nathanael closes his eyes. The last time he felt this spark, it ended in her dead body. He won’t be able to handle that again. Hell, he didn’t handle it the last time. “You don’t,” he answers, opening his eyes again.

Clara looks mad. Her expression curls into something ugly and irritated. “Fine. Live in your world, Nathanael. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but you’re playing yourself if you think this will get you anywhere.”

Nathan has no way to respond to that. He doesn’t make eye contact, and soon enough Clara wheels herself back toward her room. Standing in the dark, Nathan tries to think rationally. His heart pangs.

The rational, protective part of his brain beats him with the image of Clara’s pitying face. He jumps between her expression of anger and the memory of her tenderness after they kissed for the first time. It was just hours ago, but it feels like days.

He runs his hands over his face.

Going to the kitchen, he cleans the leftover dishes. When that’s done, he still doesn’t feel tired. Nathan stares out the windows at the water and then gives in to a call he’s been trying to repress.

Opening the sliding door, he quietly slips outside and jumps off the patio, onto the ground. Jogging down the hill and into the sand, he slips his tennis shoes off and leaves them by the bluffs. Underneath his feet, the sand feels warm. It digs into the skin between his toes. Nathan looks at the moon. It’s just a crescent, but it lights up the landscape with a silver glow.

The air smells like salt here and the smoke from someone’s nearby chimney. Wind on his shirtless skin makes him shiver.

Slowly, he approaches the ocean. When he gets to the tide line, he kneels and lets the water wash over his hands and get his jeans wet. “Heavens above,” he murmurs, the cold water biting at his skin.

“She isn’t here. I’m here, Nathan.”

Clara’s voice and gentle touch works its way under his skin. Choking on his discomfort, Nathan shivers. The pain starts bristling through him as he kneels, letting the water soak him. From deep inside of his body, the rough, wild part of him gathers strength.

“No,” he gasps out, “Stay down.”

The animal doesn’t let go. It feeds on his emotions as always, taking the opportunity to break free. He digs his claws into the sand as it starts, ripping over his spine. The pain is mind splitting. Crying out, he brings his fist up and slams it down, splashing himself with water.

Nathan’s body shifts. The bear breaks free, shifting his body and tearing at his joints and mind like it always does, like it’s never done for his sister or Luka or Raine or any of the others.

The bear form takes over, turning his senses, his mind, into something much wilder. He’s in control now, but the feeling still drags. It burns. Lumbering into the water and letting his sleek white fur get drenched, he channels any emotion, any feeling, into the strength of this body.

Nathan swims out to where a small bank of sand has been left exposed by the low tide. As he swims, his brain throws him into a world of senses.

He can smell the salt in the water, the salt on the breeze. He can smell smoke. He can smell Luka the strongest of the shifters, since he’s living so close. Naomi is the second strongest but only because he knows her. Somewhere else in town, he smells Raine and Toby.

Nathan can’t quite determine if that sense of smell is more a bear trait or a shifter trait.

He can smell Clara, too. The scent feels stronger than he’s OK with, like his brain is hyper fixating on it. She smells like lavender, even from this far away. He makes a noise that comes out as a pained growl. Even in this form, he can’t escape it.

He wandered from town to town for a few weeks after Mihra died. It hasn’t been that long, and the grief is still fresh. Nathan’s afraid that what he feels for Clara is just a projection, a desperate attempt to replace Mihra.

But Clara’s nothing like Mihra, so how would that make sense? He can’t trust himself. He can’t trust this body or his emotions or his logic or any of it.

Eventually, exhausted from swimming and cold, he drags himself back to shore. His body shifts back without his permission just as he’s getting to shore, leaving him to drag himself onto the sand, completely drenched. Gasping, he lies for a while before sitting and staring at the dark ocean he’s always loved.

Being a shifter is genetic. It’s an incredibly common trait once it’s in the genetic line, and it’s rare for someone to come out as a non-shifter from a shifter family. Ten or so years ago, a celebrity came out as a shifter. There was panic, obviously. There still is.

Polar bears are scary. His body when shifted is nine feet tall upright. Nathan’s dealt with this his whole life, though he knows it’s been harder for him than for others. Naomi can say what she wants, but being chosen as a guardian isn’t comparable to his bad shifter genetics.

It’s no wonder the police think he killed Mihra. Nathan’s not normal. He can’t control himself, and even when he can, the shifts are painful. Sitting on the beach, he can feel the sting of salt in his fresh wounds. The bruises will form within a few hours.

People don’t like shifters. As a rule, they’re disrespected and mistrusted. There’s nothing Nathan has ever wanted more than to be human. The others all retain most of their mental states and abilities when shift. For Nathan, changing into bear form has never been anything but a painful thing leading to depressive tendencies. Maybe things would be different if he had a support system, someone who believed in him, but Naomi and Luka and the others mostly seem to distrust him.

He thinks of Mihra. He thinks of her smile, and the way she made him feel normal. He thinks of her brown hair in a bob cut, of her singing voice, of her touch when she bandaged his wounds after a particularly painful shift. He thinks of her sadness and the way it made her feel human in the face of a shifter society that fears weakness.

Shifters aren’t all monsters, but Nathan wonders if he is.

Chapter 4

Nathan stays out all night, listening to the rhythm of the waves and thinking. Not too much thinking, though—the reality of the world, and his situation, is too much to face. At some point, he drifts back to the house and locks the sliding door behind him. Nathan glances at the clock: 5 a.m.

He collapses onto the couch, exhaustion winning against overthinking. Sleep takes him, but it’s a heavy, uncomfortable, sweating sleep like it’s been every night since Mihra died. When he wakes up later, not late enough, it’s to the sound of wheels bumping over the tiny ridges on the smooth tile.

Nathan sits, clutching his head. It aches, but it’s not the only part of his body that does. Clara doesn’t look over at him as she starts heating water for tea, up before him for the first time. Unable to avoid it any longer, Nathan looks down at his body to measure the damage.

A few shallow lacerations dot his torso, as well as bruises ranging from soft pink to ugly, green-black blotches. Shit. If he shifts again in the next week or so, he’s going to be in a world of hurt. This is bad enough already. Stupid.

He glances at Clara again. She’s avoiding him, doing the dishes. Nathan’s mind flashes to the previous night, and he doesn’t blame her for being angry with him.

Standing, he holds back a groan of pain and walks to her. Carefully, he reaches toward the dishes. “I can do these—”

Clara swats his hand, glaring. “I’ve been washing my dishes for years. I can do it myself.”

Taken aback by her spitting irritation, Nathan steps back. At first, his natural impulses make him irritated. He swallows his frustration and focuses on breathing. “Clara, about last night…”

She doesn’t look at him and continues scrubbing a plate, awkwardly, with her one working hand. “What about it?”

What can he say? “It’s hard for me to talk about these things. It was so recent. I don’t know what to do, what I feel for you, or how to process it.”

Setting the plate in the drying rack, Clara hangs her hand over the edge of the low sink and sighs. After a moment, she tilts her head and looks at him. “I know,” she breathes. “I wish it wasn’t like that, though. The least you can do is stop flip-flopping between kind and distant. I’m getting whiplash, Nathan.”

He nods. “I’ll try.”

Clara gives him a smile that makes him think she knows he’s not going to stick around. After all, how could he? Even if he wanted to stay, Naomi can’t be reasoned with. She’s more powerful than him, even when he’s fully in control of his shifted body, which he usually isn’t.

Clara beckons with two fingers, and he steps toward her. She looks over his body, running her fingers over his chest and the bruises covering his skin. It’s worst near joints. His elbows, wrists, and shoulders are the most damaged.

“You’re a mess,” she murmurs. “Did this happen because you shifted? Did Naomi make you?”

He shakes his head. “No. I got stressed and shifted without meaning to.”

She nods but doesn’t respond, continuing to run her fingers over his torso before dropping them to her side. She looks tired, leaning back in her wheelchair.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Not much,” she admits, making eye contact again. “Was too irritated.”

Nathan bites his lip. “Sorry.”

She waves it away with her hand. “Whatever. Make up for it by going back to bed with me. Sound fair?” A small smile lights up her expression.

“Perfectly fair,” he murmurs. Nathan leans down and brushes his lips against her cheek, feeling her shiver underneath his touch. That familiar, possessive feeling rushes through his body, and he wraps his arms around her, soaking up her warmth. The bruises on his arms hurt as he does so, but it’s worth it.

He pushes her chair to her bedroom, and she gets into the bed by herself. He’s never slept in this bed, but the silk sheets feel nice against his injured skin. Pulling his body taut to her back, he wraps his arms around her torso.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs.

He kisses the back of her ear. “I know.”

She falls asleep before him. As Nathan dozes off, he listens to the soft hum of her quiet snoring.

Days pass. Days become a couple weeks. Every day, Nathan wakes up expecting Naomi to drag him home. She never does. In fact, he never even sees her. Nathan runs to town to get groceries, but he never sees the investigator the other shifters mentioned.

At some point, he finds some homemade-looking DVDs labeled with dates and names of concerts. When he asks Clara if he can watch them, she refuses and tells him to put them back. Later, he finds the cello in the closet.

Nathan doesn’t ask about it. He’s got skeletons in his closet that she hasn’t asked for, so it’s not his right to demand answers about hers until he opens up about his. In this case, literally in the closet.

One sunny day, Clara dips her feet deeper into the Epsom salt soak to help with pain and swivels her torso on the couch to look at Nathan. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here. Let’s go downtown and get lunch, OK?”

Dropping the rag he was using to wipe the kitchen counters, Nathan turns to look at the woman in the living room. Her hair is tied into a ponytail today. It looks good like that.

“Is that wise? I told you there’s an investigator in town, didn’t I?” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m a wanted man, remember?”

“Yeah.” Clara pulls her feet out of the water and dries them. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be careful. They aren’t sure you did it, right? Doesn’t running make you look more guilty?”

I’m not running because I’m scared of cops, he thinks. I’m running from my grief. He keeps that to himself and shrugs. “Fine.”

Clara stands and plops down in her wheelchair. “Do you have a driver’s license?”

“Yeah, I do.” He pulls out his wallet and waves the card before slipping it into his back pocket.

Before long, the two are off. Nathan drives downtown this time instead of borrowing her bike, and they park at a generic sub shop. He feels guilty that he can’t pay, but that would leave an obvious credit card trail. Clara pays, and they sit at a table near the wall. After they finish their food, they sit with their drinks.

He bites his lip. “Did you go to music school?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?” Clara takes a sip.

“I don’t know. The orchestra DVDs. What instrument do you play?” He already knows.

Clara wrinkles her nose. “Cello, but it’s been a while. I can’t seem to get myself to play again.”

Leaning his elbow on the table and tilting his head to the side, he smirks. “I imagine it’s a breeze for someone with fingers like yours.”

Clara blushes. Nathan feels his heart thumping in his chest. Flustered, she avoids eye contact and brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. After a moment, she just looks frustrated.

“I haven’t played in a while.”

Something pangs in Nathan’s chest. Did I fuck up? It occurs to him that her disability might have stopped her from playing. He opens his mouth to ask but snaps his jaw closed and grinds his teeth. He takes a sip of water.

After a moment, Nathan stands. “I’m going to go buy a pack and take a smoke break. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Clara looks upset. She grabs his wrist, latching on and not letting go. “Nathan, don’t do this.”

“Do what?” He yanks his hand away, glowering. Avoidance leaves him nastiness, and nastiness leaves him feeling shadowed.

The fresh air is a relief as soon as he gets out of the restaurant. He jogs to the corner store. With some of the last cash in his wallet, he buys a new pack. It’s been months since he smoked a cigarette—Mihra didn’t like it, so he quit. She’s gone. What’s to stop him from picking up an old vice? I’m stressed.

Nathan lights one up, taking a puff as he walks in the direction of the restaurant. He stops before the windows, so Clara can’t see him. Leaning against the brick wall, he stares at the sky. It’s a clouded, cold blue that matches his mood.

He slips into his mind, into the past.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop smoking these?” Thin arms slip around his torso. “You stink, Nathan.”

Soft lips press to his neck, and he exhales smoke before laughing. “How else do I cope with all this?”

Pulling away, she snatches the cigarette and puts it out, tossing it in the ashtray. She leans against the balcony, brown wavy hair tossing.

“Are you mad at me?” Nathan says.

She sighs, looking down and shaking her head. “No. I just want you to stop. You’ll never get away from addiction. I just got you to stop drinking.”

Nathan brushes her hair behind her shoulder. She turns to him and smiles. “Your smile is so lovely,” he says. “It’s nice to see it once in a while.”

Her expression falls, and she fades again.” You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Yeah,” he admits. “But you are, too. Are you trying to fix my bad habits to avoid the bad stuff in your head?”

Mihra stares at him and then steps forward and leans her head into the crook of his shoulder. He feels her shudder. Unsure what to do, Nathan wraps his arms around her and rubs her back.

His mate breathes into the skin of his neck. “It’s so much harder for you than it is for me. The shifting difficulties, your asshole sister, all of it. What right do I have to feel so empty?”

“You have every right.” Nathan squeezes her close, pulling back and kissing her cheek. He holds the sides of her face. “I’ll quit smoking if you agree to see someone. A therapist, if you need.”

“I feel lost.” Her eyes are dark.

“Me too,” he murmurs. “But we’re going to be OK. I promise.”

Nathan chokes on smoke, coughing before he presses a hand to his mouth. Fuck. The brick wall behind his back is cold. It’s still spring—the chill of winter hasn’t quite left yet.

Nauseated, Nathan takes another puff of his cigarette, closing his eyes. His chest is tight and painful. I can’t take this. Swallowing, he opens his eyes and is about to put out his cigarette when he sees someone get out of a sleek black car in a suit and messy brown hair with a black cap over it. He’s with Naomi. The investigator, Nathan thinks.

Nathan pretends not to see them, taking a puff of his cigarette. If Naomi hasn’t noticed him yet, she will soon. He listens to their conversation.

“You told me you were going to take a few days off with me, Liam.”

“I know.” The man sounds exasperated. “But I’ve received notice from my superiors, and I just can’t put this off anymore. You’ve been a great help, and I want to spend time with you. As soon as my work is done, we’ll be fine—”

Naomi doesn’t say anything. A bell jingles, and Nathan turns just in time to see the investigator open the door for Clara, who’s leaving. Naomi makes direct eye contact with him and mouths, “Go.”

Why is she with him? He wrinkles his brow. Trying to act natural, he keeps smoking his cigarette.

“Good afternoon! Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I’m investigating the recent murder case in Charlottetown, and we think our primary suspect may have fled to Port Murmure. Could I ask you some questions?”

Clara nods. “Sure.”

The hair on Nathan’s arms stands on end. He closes his eyes, continuing to smoke the cig in his hand.

“Here are my credentials.” He pauses. “This may be a long shot, but have you seen any strange people around? I’m especially looking for shifters right now as Port Murmure has very few, but any strangers are notable.”

A pause. “Hm. No, I don’t believe I have. I’ve been at home a lot lately—I’m a freelancer, and my workload has been huge lately.” She pauses. “Sorry, I wish I could help.”

He hears Clara’s wheelchair moving across the pavement. “Ma’am, sorry to stop you, but I did have some more questions. You’re injured. May I ask how that happened?”

Nathan’s eyes open.

“Are you at liberty to ask that?” Clara sounds irritated. “I fell.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Liam says, and Nathan feels his blood heating. Stop bothering her.

Clara scoffs. “Then you won’t mind if I get back to work?” The wheels again, then a sudden stop. “Ow—”

Nathan turns his head abruptly.

Liam has grabbed Clara’s arm, not realizing the wrist is still mending. She pulls away, nursing her hand. “Officer, this is ridiculous.”

“It’s my job to ask, ma’am. Sorry about this, but I’d like to take you to the precinct for more questioning. I’m concerned about the nature of your injuries.”

“I said I fell—”

The man speaks so slowly and calmly that it makes Nathan’s blood boil. He focuses on his breathing, trying to stay calm as the investigator continues. “I’m just trying to get as much information as possible.”

“I don’t have any clues for you, sir,” Clara blatantly lies, sounding irritated. Stress makes Nathan’s skin tingle. He fights it. No.

Liam seems exasperated. “Ma’am—”

Nathan turns to snap at him, but his body has other thoughts. His stress level sends him spilling over, and he groans before falling onto all fours. The investigator sees him.

“Leave her alone,” Nathan growls. He gasps, holding at his chest. Don’t. Stop. His body and the bear in him doesn’t listen, the pain spreading across his body like a burn.

A hand presses against his back. Naomi’s voice tries to fight through his senses. “Nathan, calm. Deep breaths—”

Anger boils within him. “What do you care? You only care about yourself—”

Driven only by the bear, his arm shoots out, and he shoves her. The force makes him fall back on his ass, and his sister stumbles. Her involvement is the final straw. His body shifts, fur ripping the skin and body distorting into his bear form. The pain is mind splitting.

Soon, even that fades into a frenzy. He loses control of his brain, almost like it’s been blown away by a gust of wind. All that’s left is feral, and he rises to his feet to look at the investigator. The man shrinks, eyes wide as he reaches for his gun. With blood boiling and a hunger for violence, he takes huge steps toward the investigator.

Nathan pulls up a claw, prepared to slash the man’s face. The memory of exactly why he’s doing this is gone while in his bear form, but the knowledge that this is someone who’s made him angry remains. There isn’t human rationality right now, not when he has shifted under stress.

But he hesitates. There’s a blip of something human, and he puts his paw down.

A huge body barrels into him with a growl. Thrown across the street, Nathan flies into a bench near a fountain. It cracks with the force, collapsing into stone as he drags himself to his feet. Another polar bear growls, hair standing on end.

Unable to discern the smell of his sister while in a frenzy, he throws himself at her. The two bears swipe at each other, clawing. Far away, people scream. Pain registers, searing through him. There’s no telling how long it continues—Nathan’s rational mind is gone, dropping him into timeless rage. He slashes at his sister, blood-hungry and irrational.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he tries to regain the reins of control. Back, somewhere buried, his rational self fights to resurface and repeatedly fails. He can smell blood.

Nathan only emerges when he’s thrown against a tree and sinks to the ground. “Nathanael!” A familiar voice calls. “Nathan, you’re better than this!”

Clara.

All the anger seems to seep out of his system, leaving him feeling empty and weak. He lies in huge bear form at the bottom of the tree, searing pain in his back.

The other bear approaches slowly, stepping a foot on his chest. Naomi’s voice invades every crevice of his brain, loud and firm inside his head. This is why they suspect you. This is why Luka and I have kept a close leash on you your whole life and why we’re going to keep doing so. You’ve crossed a line.

Nathan tries to breathe. Her voice continues. Get out of here before your body shifts back out of weakness. I’ll speak with you later. I hope you understand now why a relationship with a human would never work. You can’t control yourself.

Naomi backs off. Knowing he doesn’t have time and afraid to disobey his sister’s orders, Nathan struggles to his feet and runs with huge legs across the square. He leaves Clara behind, taking to a run as he throws himself out of town toward Clara’s house. Naomi must be distracting people in town because no one follows him.

The pain as he moves is unbelievable. Heart thumping and chest aching, Nathan pushes himself for what feels like forever until he slinks back to Clara’s house. Outside the front door near the garden, he collapses. His body slowly, painfully, reverts to normal.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Nathan gasps into the pavement. Naomi’s right. He can’t be controlled except by Luka and Naomi. He’s had times when he could shift normally, but Naomi doesn’t seem to see that. He tried to get away from Luka and Naomi with Mihra. It was fine for a while, and Nathan knows her death wasn’t his fault, but…

He drags himself to his feet. The front door is locked, so he goes around to the back to the patio door with the lock he broke. As soon as he pulls it open, he wants to collapse onto the floor and avoid pain. Forcing himself to do otherwise, he goes to the sink and gets cloth to stop the worst of the bleeding.

He’s shifted too much in the last month. It’s leaving his body a wreck. Unable to muster the energy to do more than stop some of the bleeding, he slides down the side of the counter and leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen. His gasps slowly die off into soft, labored breathing.

This was bound to happen. Clara’s already seen him in bear form, but he had thrown her against a wall and she had passed out too fast to see what sort of monster he is. She had to find out what he is actually like at some point—probably best that it’s now, before they got even closer. He wants her to like him, but who could love someone like him? Could a human-shifter relationship work or is Naomi right? Nathan swallows a choked sob, putting his head in his hands instead.

Chapter 5

When Nathan doesn’t come back, Clara decides to go find him. Unfortunately, the world has other plans.

Outside the shop, she is stopped by a man and Nathan’s sister. Naomi’s looks aren’t like the rest of the people in this town—she and the other shifters, including Nathan, stand out.

She sees Nathan in her peripheral vision. He’s leaning against a wall, smoking. She doesn’t look at him again, and he doesn’t look at her. There’s no way he doesn’t see what’s happening, which means he’s intentionally not revealing himself.

Clara lies to the investigator. Of course, she’s not very good at it—the man doesn’t seem to believe a word she says. When he grabs her wrist, she feels a complete change in mood.

Before she has any grasp on the situation, she watches Nathan shift in front of her for the second time. Glued to her wheelchair out of shock, she watches it in its entirety. This one takes longer than the first time. He falls on all fours, making ugly noises like an animal. Naomi goes to him, and before Clara knows it, he throws Naomi against the wall.

Naomi stands fast, seemingly uninjured. Breathing in shallow, panicked pants, Clara watches as Nathan’s skin rips apart (and it’s a little bloody—something she didn’t see the first time he shifted). It’s more terrifying than it was the first time, somehow. She credits that to the broad daylight. His clothing is in shreds.

People scream, and she hears yelling from inside the restaurant. Clara has seen people shift before. It’s not like this.

The investigator kicks her wheelchair, sending her shrieking and rolling across the pavement away from him. She watches from afar as Nathan, or what used to be him, crosses the courtyard toward the investigator with dark eyes.

Her vision is distracted by Naomi to her left. The woman grabs a knife out of her pocket, slashing open her palm. Immediately, her body shifts and throws itself into bear form. It’s sleek and fast, smoother than Nathan’s transformation. There’s no blood, just pure, white fur. Her form is a little smaller than Nathan’s but not much.

Clara finds herself clutching her chest, desperate for breath that won’t come. Arms wrap around her from behind, and she jolts. Someone wheels her away to the edge of a building, toward safety. Thin, pale fingers grab her and squeeze.

“Alice.”

“It’ll be OK,” the woman breathes quietly. “I’m sure. I’m sure. They’ll be fine. It’ll be OK. Naomi is strong.”

Clara furrows her eyebrows. She watches Naomi and Nathan throw themselves into a fight. Nathan doesn’t move the way Naomi does. He’s erratic, lumbering and swinging randomly and constantly. What he lacks in tactics against Naomi, he almost makes up for in unpredictability.

Almost.

Clara clenches and unclenches her fingers, heart pounding in her chest with fear. The fight is nothing like anything she’s seen before, at least outside of movies. They destroy benches and rip tiles from the square. Everyone scatters.

Despite how fixated she is on every bit of this fight, she can’t manage to decide who scares her most: Naomi or Nathan.

Nathan isn’t himself. There isn’t any hesitation—there’s just a wild polar bear. Everything about that makes Clara’s heart rush and adrenaline pump. She’s slept with this man. He’s been around her house for weeks now. Is it really his fault? She knows he has a condition that impacts his control, and she knows he shifted because he sensed danger. It hardly looked intentional.

Naomi is calculated. Clara doesn’t know her, at least outside what Nathan says about her. The impression Clara has of her isn’t good. Somehow, the knowledge that she’s not good to her brother makes it sting even more when her bear form throws him against a tree so hard he stops moving.

Unable to hold herself back, Clara screams in a desperate plea. “Nathanael!” It rips out of her throat, so loud it makes her vocal chords sting. “Nathan, you’re better than this—”

Alice rests her hand on her shoulder. “I think he’s OK,” she murmurs. “He’ll be OK, Clara.”

Exhaustion wins, and vertigo makes Clara’s vision swim. She watches as Naomi’s bear form steps on Nathan, and then the man leaves, running off without her in a huge polar bear body. Something in her heart sinks.

Clara wonders if what she just saw was a dream. Alice runs fingers through her hair, and Clara remembers her question. “How did you know that they were shifters?” Her voice sounds shaky and unfamiliar.

Alice pauses, drifting her hands back behind the wheelchair. “I got…a housecleaner. He’s one of them, I suppose…” She sounds distant and upset. “Craig is back in town, you know. Says things are really going to work out with us this time.”

Clara still feels like she’s in a dream. Her heart sinks, and even Alice’s words feel distant. She watches the investigator chase Naomi around a corner. “Don’t let the bastard fool you,” she murmurs. “He doesn’t care about you. He was a bad fiancé back then, and he’s a worse one now.”

“He cares a little,” Alice says. She changes the subject. “I could drive you home, if that feels safe to you.”

Clara blinks, pushing her way out of the haze and taking deep breaths. “Safe?”

“That’s probably where the shifter went, right?”

She closes her eyes. Nathan has nowhere else to go except the great outdoors. Despite everything, despite seeing what he’s like when he changes and the sheer lack of control and rational thought, Clara hopes he went to her house. Don’t run where I can’t find you.

“Yeah, probably,” she answers, turning to look at Alice. “It would be lovely if you could drive me back.”

Alice smiles her soft, sleepy smile. “I’d be happy to.”

The drive back is uneventful. Clara doesn’t speak much, mostly because she feels emotionally unprepared to talk about her friend’s fiancé-turned-ex-fiancé-turned-fiancé again. The dude’s a jerk and a user, but Alice won’t listen, and she knows that. If Alice makes a decision, she’s going to stick with it until she changes her mind herself, if she changes her mind.

When they get to the house, Alice helps Clara out. Despite offers to take her inside and make sure it’s safe, Clara knows she wants to go in on her. He’s here—there’s blood on the pavement outside her front door, winding around the side path to the sliding doors. She opts to take the front door.

Creaking it open after unlocking it with the code, Clara rolls her wheelchair inside and closes the door. The faucet’s dripping. Apprehension and a burst of fear makes her hesitate. After a moment, she rolls into the kitchen.

Nathan doesn’t look up. He sits, human now, arms slung over his knees. The state of his body, however, makes Clara inhale sharply.

His whole body is covered in splotchy bruising, his naked skin draped by one of the blankets from the couch. There are lacerations over his chest and back and arms and even one across his cheek, though it looks shallow. His hair is a total mess, sticking out in every direction in cowlicked, black locks.

“Does this scare you?” he says.

Clara thinks and bites her lip. She brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “Honestly? Yes, a bit.”

He nods, staring at the opposite wall. “I’d be concerned if you weren’t.” She watches his eyes flutter closed. Nathan clenches and unclenches one fist. “No wonder they think I killed her, right? You find a shifter with her chest torn open by claw marks and it must be her crazy boyfriend, right?”

“That’s not a productive thought process,” Clara murmurs. Nathan looks at her with wide eyes, then nods.

“Sorry.”

Nathan drops his hand to his side and smears blood across the tile. Unsure what to do, she sits for a moment before wheeling back a few inches to a drawer with medical supplies. Grabbing gauze and antiseptic solution, she reaches to the drawer underneath that one for a clean cloth. Pouring the disinfectant on the cloth, she wobbles out of her wheelchair and kneels next to Nathan. He looks between her face and the cloth.

“Hold still,” she murmurs. “This is going to sting.”

Nathan shakes his head, looking confused. “I don’t want to lash out and hurt you—”

“You’ll get an infection, Nathan.” She tucks some hair behind his ear. “Just let me do this. I’ll be OK.”

He seems hesitant, but she doesn’t wait. Pulling his hands away from his chest, she wipes the cloth over one of the deeper cuts across his abdomen. He winces, half-growling. It would be a lie to say Clara doesn’t feel a little afraid of him, but she keeps cleaning the cut.

When she pulls the cloth away, there’s too much dirt. “You’re filthy,” she remarks, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, let’s get you to the bath.”

Reluctantly, he struggles to his feet. Clara falls back into her chair, wheeling it behind him as he stumbles to the bathroom. There, she slides onto her knees and turns on the water. Grabbing his hand, she dips it into the water. “How’s the temperature?”

“You don’t need to do this,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “You’re being too kind to me.”

“I said,” she repeats, irritated, “how’s the temperature?”

“It’s fine. Sorry.” In the fluorescent light, every part of him is visible. Clara can’t help but notice how he glows, drawing her in even when injured.

Nathan gets into the water, and Clara grabs a couple cloths, handing him one and keeping one for herself to help him clean. He winces as they wash off the blood and dirt, eventually just leaving growing bruises and cuts that need bandaging. The active bleeding seems to have stopped as well.

Nathan gets out of the bathwater, removing the plug so it can drain before getting into the shower to rinse everything down and wash his hair.

There’s something surreal about it. She can hear him groan in pain when the water hits his open wounds. Unsure what else to do or how to help, Clara waits in her wheelchair until he gets out, and then she helps bandage the worst of his injuries. He doesn’t say anything—it’s like his brain’s faraway, and Clara’s not sure how to reach him.

During the weeks he was here, he bought some extra clothing from the thrift store in town. Clara wheels to her room and lies on the bed. She lies on her side with her back to the door, pulling the elastic out of her hair and letting the ponytail out.

Eventually, Nathan joins her. He sits on the end of the bed with his back to her. Clara waits to see if he’s going to speak, but he doesn’t.

“I want answers, Nathan. You can’t hold them back from me anymore.”

He nods, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Slowly, he shifts backward and lies next to Clara, eyes to the ceiling. She watches him, captivated by the glassy green of his eyes in the afternoon sunlight.

“I told you about my condition,” he starts, looking distant. “It’s a shifter thing. I’ve only ever met one other person who has it, and she’s a mouse shifter.” Nathan laughs almost mockingly. “When a mouse shifter can’t control herself and acts like a wild maniac when shifting, it’s a little different than a polar bear.”

Clara furrows her brows. “So, do you just…when you shift, you go wild?”

“Yeah.” He turns to look at her, flipping on his side. “It’s not really me. It’s just the mindset of a bear in the wild usually. I mean, it is, but….” Another sigh. “I think my sister thinks it’s more me than I think it is. I really can’t do much. It’s like I’m fighting with two different sides of my head. I’ve never really hurt anyone except Naomi by accident and my dad once before he died, but Naomi thinks I’m a public menace.”

Clara brushes the back of her fingers over the bandages wrapped around his chest. “And this happens…when you shift?”

He nods, looking sad. “The more I shift, the more it hurts. When I was a kid, I really ripped myself up because I was shifting all the time without meaning to.”

“How do you deal with it?” She tils her head, giving Nathan a look. “How do you cope?”

“Used to cope with drinking,” he admits, “Then cigarettes. Now…hope.” He laughs awkwardly. “I need a better coping mechanism, and a therapist, and medication. Like I said, people don’t really work to make medication for shifters, so it’s harder for me to deal. I know I’m a good person—it’s just about finding a way to deal with this.”

Nathan scoots closer, winding his fingers into Clara’s hair and pressing his palm to her cheek. She feels her breath catch in her chest, his closer proximity making her nervous.

Nathan drifts his hand down her face, running his thumb over her lips. He seems to like it. The intimate gesture makes Clara shiver, and she parts her lips. He retracts his hand quickly. “I don’t want to live a shifter life. It hurts too much in more than one way.”

“OK,” Clara murmurs, nodding, “Then why don’t you just…stop shifting?”

“My sister,” he explains. “Naomi thinks I’m totally incapable, a wild card she can’t control if she’s not with me. Thinks I’ll mess things up for her.”

Clara shifts a little, holding the pillow tighter. “What right does she have to keep you stuck with her? You’re not a child.”

“I know.” Nathan looks irritated. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Naomi loves me. She just can’t relate to my condition. She thinks the safest option for me and her and everyone else is to watch over me like a hawk. I think the fact that I’m like this makes her feel helpless. It’s hard for her to admit how much she worries about me. She let me be on my when I was with Mihra, but she doesn’t trust me to be on my now that she’s gone. Mihra kept me in check—stopped me from doing all the unhealthy shit I used to do.”

That same topic. Clara’s heart sinks, and she finds herself drowning in the question that’s been on her mind for weeks: What happened to Mihra?

“Sounds like she was good for you.” In a way I’m not sure I could be. Clara is unstable enough on her. She doesn’t even know if she’s saying the right thing. Why aren’t things easy like in the romance novels Alice writes?

“She was. I think she was always better to me than she was to herself.” Nathan closes his eyes, biting his lip. From a few feet away, Clara swears she can feel the pain in his heart as if it were her.

“What does it mean for shifters to be mates? Is it different than normal relationships?” She asks.

Nathan opens his eyes, looking more comfortable with this question. “It depends on the animal. Some animals mate for life, so it means much more then. Polar bears don’t,” he explains, “I think for us, it was mostly that we gravitated toward shifter vocabulary. It’s easier to deal with being a shifter in this world if you go at it in a pair. At least, that’s what Naomi always says.”

He pauses. “Naomi and Luka are…traditional. Luka, especially. He believes shifters and humans shouldn’t date at all, that they can’t be considered true mates.”

“That seems strange,” Clara murmurs. Clearly, she thinks to herself with some amusement, there’s no physical issue with humans and shifters having relations. Would his kin consider that unnatural?

Nathanael nods. “I’ve always thought it was weird, but Naomi says that’s because I hate being a shifter.” He snorts. “She’s not wrong.”

Nathan brings his eyes up to Clara, expression falling to something sad and lonely that makes her heart pang. “Do you regret sleeping with me? Letting me stay here?”

Clara thinks, and she thinks hard. She considers her dislike of most men and the loneliness she so often feels. More than anything, she thinks of Nathan, bent over and growling as he turns into the bear that lurks inside of him. She’s a fool to connect to him, but she does.

“No,” she says. “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again.”

“That seems foolhardy,” Nathan teases, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “But I’m glad.” He pauses, brushing hair out of her eyes. “Why?”

“I…” Clara closes her eyes, images flashing through her head. “I think we’re similar in some ways.” She opens her eyes again, staring directly into his. “I know things have been hard for you, and I’m not minimizing that or saying I’m glad people treat you this way, but it feel almost nice for me to find someone who is like me.” She smiles at him. “Someone people think they need to take care of, I mean. Naomi thinks you’re weak. My family thinks I’m weak, so much so that I ran all the way out to Nova Scotia to have my independence. Everyone wants that sort of freedom, even disabled people. I think I might understand how you feel.”

Nathan bites his lip, looking a little like he might cry. He doesn’t—but the knowledge that he reacted that way almost makes Clara feel…satisfied? He’s been so distant and emotionless most of the time he’s been here. This is a rarity.

“You’re a gem, Clara.” He pulls her into a close hug, running his hand over the back of her head. “You’re a fucking gem.”

They just stay there for a while, holding each other. Clara leans her nose into Nathan’s neck. He smells like her mint body wash. After a few minutes, the question on her mind becomes too strong to ignore, leaving her head buzzing.

“If…” she starts, and Nathan pulls away to look at her.

“If?”

Clara exhales sharply. “If you didn’t kill Mihra, who did?”

Nathan’s face pales. He rubs his eyes again and sits. “She did.”

“What?”

“She killed herself, Clara. Took a bunch of pills. I got home and tried to make her throw them up. She shifted so I couldn’t and then cut herself open.” Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose. “There was blood everywhere. I held her when she died, tried to stop the blood loss. It didn’t help. She shifted and died in that form and with her injuries. I knew they’d never suspect to check her stomach for pills. With shifters like me, it’s shoot on sight lately. They’re afraid of us.”

He drops his hands to his side. “I knew they’d blame it on me, so I ran. I just ran to the ocean and swam until I hit land. It helped nothing—the investigation tracked me here anyway.”

Clara’s heart stops. A shiver runs down her back, and she feels cold. This wasn’t what she was expecting. No wonder she hasn’t seen Nathan focused on some revenge mission against the murderer. The murderer was the victim herself.

When she speaks, her words come out choked, and it’s only then that she realizes she’s crying. “I’m so sorry, Nathan.”

He smiles sadly, pulling Clara into his arms. “Why are you crying?” Comforting her, he runs fingers through her hair. She feels the dampness of her tears with her face pressed into his neck.

“I should have seen it coming. She was depressed, throwing everything she had into helping me and not herself.” Clara shivers in Nathan’s arms. “I didn’t do enough. I never do enough. I think all this proves I need to stop being a burden to others.”

Clara pulls away, looking at him. “What do you mean? If you hurt yourself, Nathan, I swear to god I’ll—”

“No, no.” He shakes his head fervently. “I just mean…” He trails off, looking nervous. “I have to face what I am and do things for myself.” Nathan smiles and wipes a tear from Clara’s eye. “Don’t worry about me.”

She swats at him. “I have to. I…” Clara stops, trying to think of what to say. “I care about you a lot. I rarely feel this way about anyone. You’re an idiot if you think I’m just going to let you slip through my fingers.”

Nathan stares at her in surprise. He looks younger. Clara pushes away. “Don’t look at me like that. If you don’t feel the same, just tell me—”

Nathan tugs her into a deep kiss. Holding his hands against the sides of her face, he holds her close. Clara is shocked for a moment but then relaxes into the kiss and into his body. His torso is so much wider than her, making her feel small. Clara always feels small—the wheelchair makes her short, and her disability makes people think she’s weak. The rough way Nathan is touching her, however, reassures her that he’s not treating her like breakable glass, and she doesn’t mind.

She pushes his back to the headboard and rests her hands on his chest. Unintentionally rough, she hears him groan from the injuries on his chest. Her legs are shaking, so she sinks onto her knees and kisses him from the side.

His lips are warm and soft, but his touch is firm in the best way. Nathan weaves his fingers into her hair, leaving the kiss caught somewhere between sexual and gentle. She’s not sure where exactly she wants it to go, but Nathan makes the decision for her.

He eases off, separating and leaning his forehead into hers. Clara glows, floating ten feet off the ground. She kisses him again, smiling against his lips. Nathan gently nips at her bottom lip, letting his hands fall from her face to her neck.

When they detach finally, Clara sinks to the bed and lets her head fall against the pillow. She looks up at Nathan cheekily. “That was nice.”

The shifter smiles before sinking to her level and wrapping his arms around her. Clara flips so he’s spooning her, sinking into his touch. She feels him wince, and her heart falls a little. He’s hurting. How can she help him?

“Yeah, it was really nice.”

Chapter 6

Telling Clara the truth about Mihra removes weight off his chest, but it also adds more weight to replace it.

She falls asleep before him, like usual. Arms wrapped around her, Nathan listens to Clara’s breathing and tries to process what the last month has been. Her body is warm in his arms. The close contact makes his bruises ache, but everything does that.

It doesn’t make sense for him to stay here. Clara has a life—she’s a good, kind, talented, headstrong person. She deserves better than for Nathan to be her ball and chain. He knows what he’s like. It’s been driven in over and over for years. If he were a normal shifter, maybe it would work out. But he’s not, so it doesn’t matter.

He squeezes her harder, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck. Clara stirs slightly, laughing under her breath. “Go to bed. Everything will be OK. We’ll talk tomorrow and figure things out, OK?”

“OK,” he murmurs, kissing the nape of her neck before backing off and relaxing his grip slightly.

“I’m home!” Hanging up his keys on the hook, Nathan walks into the entryway and kicks off his boots. With no response, he calls again. “Mihra, you home?”

There’s more silence, and he furrows his brows. After a moment, he hears sobbing from the bathroom. Fuck. Jogging down the hallway, he jiggles the door handle. Locked.

“Mihra, open the door.” Panic starts to take over his body, leaving his senses buzzing. He’d be worried about shifting, but fear overrides the stress reaction in this case. “Mihra—”

With no answer, he backs up and kicks the handle from the side. It takes only two tries with his full weight put into it to knock it off, letting him reach inside the mechanism to unlock the door.

It swings open, and he sees Mihra sitting against the wall, gasping and clutching her stomach. She’s practically foaming at the mouth. Nathan gapes, and he’s about to ask what happened when he noticed the three empty pill bottles by the sink, one turned on its side with a few pills by the sink handle.

“Oh, no—” He kneels down. “God, no—Mihra, throw them up.”

Nathan holds her face, desperately trying to get her attention. She looks distant and tired, already drooling. “How long ago did you take them? How long?”

“A while ago,” she murmurs, barely audible. Nathan pulls out his phone, dialing 911 and holding it to his ear. “My girlfriend. She’s not doing well. She’s hurt, overdosed—”

Mihra grabs the phone, throwing it against the shower wall so it cracks and falls in the bathwater. Nathan prays they had time to get his location. He tastes salt from his tears. “No, don’t leave me—”

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, dark and curly hair curled in mats around her face. “I just didn’t know what else to do. It feels like there’s no point, and without me you’d be better off—”

She breaks off, heaving but not throwing up. Crying, she clutches at her stomach. Nathan is desperate. He reaches into her mouth, holding it open and trying to activate her gag reflex. She gags but doesn’t throw up, reacting quickly. When she bites down, it’s hard enough to draw blood.

He doesn’t yank his fingers out. He’s smarter than that. Mihra’s smart, too, and she grabs his hand and pulls it out of her mouth before struggling up and running into the other room.

Nathan stands, chasing after her. “Stop—”

He hears a growl and wood breaking. His heart stops in his chest as he runs around the corner and sees Mihra has shifted, destroying the table in the middle of the room. There’s no way he can make her throw up now.

“Mihra, please. I love you more than anything—”

Time stops. The world pauses. The sound of faraway sirens cuts off, too. Nathan can hear his labored, panicked breathing.

“This already happened,” he murmurs, unable to taste the salt of his tears anymore.

“Yeah, it did.” A familiar male voice. He doesn’t turn around. “Shame I couldn’t have been around to see this coming before it happened.”

“Dad,” he says, choking up a bit. The man walks around him, staring at the frozen scene. He has black hair like Nathan, but it’s flecked with gray. A grayed beard covers his face.

“Nathan, you should not have tried to live on your with her.”

More tears well up in Nathan’s eyes. “I didn’t do this. She did this.”

“Isn’t it a man’s job to save the ones he loves?” His dad turns around, fixing him with a glare. “Besides, you and I both know she probably wouldn’t have done if it your condition hadn’t stressed her to the breaking point.”

Nathan shakes his head, not wanting to face any of this. “You don’t know that.”

“What, and you do?” His dad scoffs. “Naomi’s done well after my death. I was always proud of her. She’s professional, and she knows what our shifter clan needs.” He stares at Nathan with a dark look. “Just stay out of trouble. And deal with this.”

“She’s already dead,” Nathan tries to defend himself, but his dad cuts him off again.

“No. You know that’s not what I mean.”

The older man vanishes, and the scene springs back into action. Nathan finds himself drawn into the dream memory again, running toward Mihra. Before he can do anything, her claws rip through her torso and she falls back, blood everywhere.

Gasping, Nathan runs to her and tries to wrap a blanket around her form to stop the bleeding. It’s not enough. The next few minutes pass in a frenzy, the sirens getting closer, and soon she’s not moving anymore. Tears streak Nathan’s face, heartbeat racing. There’s a pain in his chest that makes him want to throw up and hurts more than anything else.

Shaking, he holds as much of her huge bear body as he can in his arms. The sirens get closer, but he doesn’t run this time. He waits until her body shifts back to human.

But it’s not Mihra. It’s Clara.

Nathan’s eyes open and he feverishly brushes the hair out of her eyes. There’s blood everywhere, all over him, filling his nostrils with ugly stink. It’s unavoidable, making him want to vomit. Her body is a little smaller than Mihra’s, but the sight is no less painful. Her skin, paler than his old mate’s, is stained everywhere with blood. Straight, soft hazel hair falls all around her shoulders.

“No, not you,” he murmurs, clutching her close and sobbing. “I can’t let it happen again. I can’t be a weight anymore, not when you deserve so much more than to be dragged down by me.”

He doesn’t dream again that night.

The sunlight hurts his eyes when he wakes up. After his pupils adjust, the pain of his bruises takes precedent. His body aches far worse than he can remember, even the nights after other shifts. He’s shifted much too frequently, and his body’s punishing him for it.

Not for the first time, he wishes he had been born a non-shifter instead of a broken shifter.

He had detached from Clara sometime during the night. She’s curled up by the side of the bed with most of the comforter on her side. He sits with a quiet groan.

The clock on the wall reads just past seven in the morning, which means they probably slept for around twelve hours. When Clara got back to the house, it was just barely evening.

He holds his throbbing head, sighing. Nathan leaves Clara, softly closing the bedroom door as he wanders down the hallway and to the kitchen. He splashes cold water in his face before getting a cold glass of water and chugging it.

It takes Nathan a moment to notice her presence but not long enough that she has time to surprise him. Setting down the glass, Nathan turns to look at the dark-haired woman leaning against the back of the couch.

Naomi raises an eyebrow. “I was beginning to think you’d lost touch with your senses, brother. Pleasant surprise.”

“You stink up the whole place,” he mutters, “I couldn’t ignore a guardian even if I wanted to. Luka’s next door, and his smell keeps me awake constantly.”

Naomi frowns, grinding her teeth a little. “That’s unnecessary.”

“What’s unnecessary?” He shrugs. “Why are you here? Ready to pick me up and drag me back like a child?”

Naomi doesn’t answer for a moment and then nods. “Yes and no. I’m here because I’ve made my decision.”

“About what?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow night,” she says. “I’m erasing memories, and then you, me, Luka, Toby, and Raine are moving away from here.”

Nathan looks up. “Not Charlottetown?”

“No, you idiot,” Naomi snaps. “Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me? You know she killed herself,” Nathan snaps back, taking a defensive step forward.

Naomi shakes her head. “I’d advise you against getting into a scuff with me. One more untimely shift could land you in the ER.”

As if I don’t know that, he wants to say, but he holds his tongue. Even a verbal fight with Naomi is too much to deal with right now. He nods.

“I know what Mihra did,” she finally responds. “But don’t pretend like your condition wasn’t hard on her.”

His heart hurts. “Everyone says that,” he murmurs. “But it wasn’t everything. You didn’t know her like I did. That’s unfair to me and unfair to Mihra—you know I’m not that bad, and things have only been hard here because of grief.”

“If you knew her so well,” Naomi says, “why couldn’t you prevent her from ending her life?”

“That,” he snaps, “is just mean. I don’t know why you’re taking this out on me. Did something happen?”

Pain flashes in Naomi’s eyes, and she softens. “I’m sorry. That was mean, you’re right. Things are…” she trails off. “I met someone, but it isn’t going to work. I took it out on you. Sorry.”

He nods before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He closes his eyes.

“Nathan,” she starts after a moment. Her tone is pitying. “I know you care for her, but we both know that it won’t work out.”

His eyes open again, and he breathes slowly. “And why’s that?” he asks.

Naomi sighs. “You’re erratic. You know that. It was hard enough with Mihra, but this woman’s human and a cripple—”

“Don’t use that term. Defend your point without the low-brow insults and outdated terms, please. It’s not necessary.”

Taken aback, Naomi continues. “Fine.” She brings one hand behind her neck to brush all her black hair over one shoulder. “My point is, it’s only bound to end in pain. Just stay with me and Luka—the two of us will travel together. Human and shifter relationships are doomed to failure.” Naomi pauses. “I’m sorry I’m being awful. I want to protect you—it’s a big sister thing. I’m upset about something right now, and it’s making me a jerk. I really do want the best for you.”

There’s something deeper in Naomi’s expression, something pained that flashes. Nathan watches it. He nods slowly.

Naomi works her way over to him, hugging him. The fabric of her knit hoodie is itchy against his skin, and she’s not very good at gentle hugging. She pulls away quickly. “When I said I was going to erase everyone’s memory, I hope you recognize that Clara will be included.”

His heart sinks, but he’s not surprised. “I pretty much thought as much,” he answers quietly. “When?”

“Tomorrow.” Naomi looks toward the sea. “She’s going to receive an email from Alice today. They are going out to lunch tomorrow, but Alice won’t show. I sent the email from her computer. I’m just going to talk with Clara and then I’m going to calmly erase her memory. After that, all the bigger fish. That night, we leave.”

She turns back to Nathan, expression solid and unmovable and dark. “I am absolutely firm on this. You can encourage her to go, you can use the last day and a half you have to do whatever else you need to do, but I am going to erase her memory whether you like it or not.” His sister narrows her eyes. “You hear me, Nathan?”

He shrinks into the counter. He’s always had too much pride to admit that he’s intimidated by her, but he is. She could beat him in any fight, verbal or physical. “OK.”

What should he do? He can’t stand up to her, really. Even if he could, would he? She’s not altogether wrong, after all. He knows that he and Clara probably can’t work out. Like Naomi said, Nathan’s condition is hard to deal with. She’s always been right about these things. Why would she be right now? Naomi’s smart.

Naomi says what he’s thinking. “She’ll just tire of dealing with your issues. It’s better to hurt now than hurt more later.”

He leans into the counter, sighing. He doesn’t think Clara loves him right now. They’ve barely known each other a month—you can’t really, truly love someone during that time. Clara could be just stuck floating in her early-relationship honeymoon phase.

If she is, so is he. Every time he thinks about her, his heart swells.

But she could love him, maybe. The knowledge that it’s possible, that she might really care with time, that she might tell him she’s in love with him, that he might feel the same, is too much to handle. He loved Mihra. He loves her still. Before that, Nathan hadn’t ever really felt that way about anyone.

Nathan nods, avoiding eye contact with Naomi. “OK.” He pauses, adding one thing. “Just leave me alone until tomorrow night. I want to make the most of my time without your interference.”

You make me feel pretty bad about myself, he wants to say but bites his tongue. Naomi loves him, and she thinks this is the best thing for him.

“Of course.” Naomi shrugs and steps toward the sliding door. She opens it just enough to slip out and waves at Nathan. “Stay calm and be good. I won’t interfere unless I have to.”

When she’s gone and her scent fades, it’s a relief beyond measure. Nathan rubs his temples, exhausted by the shift yesterday and his talk with Clara and whatever the hell just happened with Naomi.

Clara’s door remains closed. He goes about his usual business with chores: watering her plants, doing the dishes, sweeping the kitchen and living room. All the while, he thinks of Clara.

Can he really say he’s losing her if Nathan’s the one letting her go? Couldn’t he stand up to Naomi, if he tried?

Deep down, Nathan knows that’s not the problem. He fundamentally doesn’t want to stop her, and that’s what’s hardest to acknowledge. The problem is that he’s a broken shifter who can’t keep his temper in check and slashes himself up every time he breaks down and lets his bear form out. The deeper problem is that Nathan’s still in the various stages of grief. He doesn’t know how best to bounce back after Mihra.

Polar bears are supposed to be solitary creatures. Why does the idea of loneliness make him so afraid?

Chapter 7

“So, like, you can’t walk anymore?”

Sitting in her wheelchair, Clara takes a sip of her water. She scratches the back of her neck, laughing awkwardly. “It’s a slowly developing condition. I mean, I can walk, but—”

“Then why the wheelchair?” Jared frowns, leaning back in his chair. He’s got of a pinched face with brown hair slicked back from the concert.

Clara doesn’t attempt to hide her look of irritation. “It’s painful for me to walk and sometimes not even possible. The chair is a mobility aid.”

“Don’t have to be a bitch about it. I didn’t know.” Jared shrugs, making Clara’s blood boil. Jared continues. “And Advil or whatever’s not enough?”

Another smile to hide her irritation. “No.” She sips her water.

Sighing, the man leans forward with his elbows on the table. He looks at a table across the room. There, the director of Clara’s orchestra, or the orchestra she used to be in, is sitting next to the college president. Jared turns back to her. “You said you play for the orchestra, right?”

“Played,” she corrects. “I’ve been getting used to the change—haven’t played since I switched over to the wheelchair. I graduated anyway. I’m planning on doing new things from now on.”

“So, you can’t play or you won’t?” He raises an eyebrow. Clara’s getting more and more fed up with the violinist. He’s from a visiting orchestra—he wouldn’t understand.

“Neither,” she explains. “It’s complicated.”

He shrugs. “Don’t they have, like, disabled orchestras or whatever?”

Clara grinds her teeth, clenching fingers around her glass of water. “You can play cello while sitting, Jared.”

Jared pushing his seat away, grabbing a plate to go to the banquet. He’s blatantly ignoring her comment. “Well. It was nice talking to you, Clarice. I’m going to get some food and speak to my director, so I won’t see you again.”

My name is Clara, she wants to say.

“He really said that?” Nathan looks incredulous, staring over the table and his cup of coffee.

Clara nods, shrugging. She drinks her coffee, glancing out the window. “Being disabled makes you a total different class of human in other people’s eyes. Everything you do is never just you. It’s inspiration porn for others.”

She glances at the man across from her. “People always want to hear about the strength of the Paralympic athletes or the blind person who paints or the deaf person who writes amazing music. They use it to fuel their goals. It’s not about us—we’re not people to them.”

Pausing, Clara takes another sip of coffee. “What happens to the disabled people who just can’t do that stuff? The ones who can’t take the stress? Invisible. They drop to the side.”

Her chest hurts. She scratches her sternum with one hand, feeling a familiar ugly disgust. “It’s why I stopped playing. If I play, it’s not about me or my practice or my skills anymore. It’s about me beating my disability or whatever.”

Something dawns in Nathan’s eyes and after a moment his expression sinks. “It totally minimizes your accomplishments.”

“Exactly.”

His expression seems a little distant and dark. It’s been like that all morning. She furrows her eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

He blinks. “Oh, nothing. Sorry, I’m just out of it.”

Clara leans over the table and runs her fingers over his cheek. He puts his palm over hand, closing his eyes and breathing into her wrist. His touch and his warmth make her shiver even from feet away.

When he speaks, his voice is low and drawling. Nathan’s eyes are still closed. “Why are you so much sunlight?”

“Now you’re just being cheesy,” she teases, tucking her hair behind her ear with a free hand.

Nathan opens his eyes and shakes his head. His face flushes. “I mean it.” He lets go of her hand.  “I can’t relate to all your experience. My legs work, obviously. But I think I understand part of how you feel.” He stops, pursing his lips. She nods, waiting for him to elaborate, he sighs, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s like everything I do has always been about my condition. My whole life I’ve been this anchor weighing down everyone around me.”

He looks nervous and stops talking, so Clara presses him for more. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, rubbing his face. “My uncle had the same condition and he just…lost it. Died from blood loss from shifting too much.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I didn’t know him. His issues just led everyone to think I’d be the exact same as him, so I’ve never been left alone to have my thing. If I do anything well or if I’m stable for a while, it’s some sort of miracle and I’m praised for just living. Even when I’m normal, I’m not normal.”

Something about that hits deep, striking at Clara’s heart. She breathes in sharply. “Shit,” she murmurs. “I relate.”

“Figured you might.” His expression softens and drops into shadow again. Something’s wrong—Clara knows that much.

Nathan’s eyes brighten. “What if you started playing your instrument again but, like…for me?”

Clara snorts. “For you? Like a private concert? I’m not practiced—you won’t like how it sounds.”

“You could practice before,” he says. “I just want to hear you play. I’m not a critic or anything. You could play ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ and it’d impress me.”

“I don’t play in the name of love, not even for a handsome dark horse like you,” Clara teases.

Nathan’s mouth parts slightly. “Love? Big word.”

“Oh,” Clara realizes what she said, blooming tomato red. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” he smiles that soft, calm smile that makes Clara melt. He leans on his hand, giving her a cheeky look. “It’s OK. I know how you feel.” He pauses. “Fine. If you won’t play for the thrill of romance, what would you play for?”

Clara thinks, squinting one eye and glancing out the window at the sea. “Maybe…a good kiss.”

That makes Nathan laugh out loud. It sounds genuine, and Clara feels drawn into him. He’s like a magnet, she thinks, feeling that she’s sinking deeper and deeper into a quicksand of affection that she doesn’t want to escape.

“Well, that’s easy,” Nathan teases. “Don’t you want more than that?”

“I don’t know. Seems pretty nice to me.” Clara downs the last of her coffee. “I’m fond of you. But…” Another pause. “You think of something. I still want my kiss, but…surprise me, I guess.”

Nathan shakes his head in amusement. “I’m not creative. You won’t like whatever I do much.”

“Then just the kiss is fine,” Clara reiterates.

“OK. Surprise, then. I’ll find a way.”

Clara can tell that Nathan’s trying to seem cool, but he’s flustered. Something in her heart swells. It’s been awhile since she has gotten this far with a guy, although the situation could hardly be called typical in any respect. Hell, they haven’t even gotten “that far” by most relationship terms, but Clara has intentionally avoided dating for a while. Could she even say they’re dating?

“What are you thinking about?” Nathan’s staring at her, looking concerned. She opens her mouth, then closes it. She can’t tell him all this sort of stuff or she’ll sound like a commitment-crazy girl who’s moving too fast. There’s no way to even know if he’ll stay with her or leave suddenly in the night.

Her mood dims considerably, and she frowns. “Just thinking about playing again. I could ask you the same thing—you’ve been on a different frequency all day.”

“Didn’t sleep much last night,” Nathan says, running fingers through his hair with a look of exasperation.

She narrows her eyes. He has pretty bad eye bags, so she believes him. But he rarely sleeps much as far as she’s witnessed, and although he’s usually distant, his attitude feels different.

“Nightmares?” she wagers a guess.

He nods. She gives him a questioning look. He gives in and explains after a moment. “Dreamed about Naomi.”

“Oh, God.” Clara hasn’t gained the most positive view of his bossy, controlling older sister. “What about her?”

“Just…” He rubs his temples. “Pointing out how I can’t function on my own and how I make her life harder. The usual.”

Shaking her head in irritation, Clara pulls all her hair behind her shoulders. “God, pardon my language, but she’s such a bitch. She treats you like garbage.”

“It was a dream,” Nathan points out.

“Yeah, but are you going to pretend like she doesn’t do that in real life? You’re twenty-five. It’s ridiculous.” Nathan starts to speak, but she cuts him off. “I don’t care about your condition. I don’t care whatever fancy shifter title she has. It’s bullshit. You’re a grown man, and she treats you like a child.”

Nathan looks guilty. He rubs his nose. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s my only family, though.”

Clara drops her gaze. “You can love your family without letting them treat you like a child.”

As she says it, Clara wonders if she’s being a hypocrite. She’s not the only one to think this—Nathan picks up her mistake quickly. “Your mom calls you every day to make sure her baby’s doing OK.”

“Moms do that,” Clara says, smiling awkwardly.

He stands. “Do they? Every day? Or just moms with disabled daughters?”

He grabs both of their cups, dumping them in the sink and turning on the water. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he grabs a sponge and goes at the dishes with vigor. Guilt floods Clara. “Nathan, I—”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mutters, softening. “I’m mad about other things. Don’t worry about it.”

Not as easy as you make it sound, Clara thinks but bites her tongue. Grabbing the wheels of her chair, she backs up and swivels around to go to the other room. She grabs her laptop from the coffee table and rolls down the hallway to work in her study. Nathan doesn’t follow her.

As there isn’t currently a polar bear in her house, she’s pretty sure he’s not that pissed. He’ll cool off quickly. The more she thinks about it, the more she feels far from him. Last night, they were so close. He opened up for once, and the kiss they shared was real and deeper than just lust. What happened between last night and today?

She’s troubled while working and can’t really focus on the music she’s reviewing. Clara restarts the audio, but that doesn’t work either. She works on editing a client’s sheet music, but there’s not much of that left to do.

After trying and failing to write another music review, Clara closes her laptop and lays her head face down on the desk.

The dull sound of water running from the other room stops, but Nathan doesn’t walk toward her. The sound of the sliding door closing tells her he’s gone outside. Probably good. He needs air.

Clara wonders what she needs. Wasn’t she the one who ran off mad this time?

He’s not completely wrong. Her mom does treat her like a child. Moms sometimes do that, but she would be lying to herself if she said some of the fussing wasn’t because of her muscular sclerosis.

Clara can’t pretend that her illness doesn’t exist. As soon as it started getting worse, her mom started visiting her college all the time. It’s only natural for a mom to do that, and Clara knows that to hate her mom’s clinginess doesn’t mean her mom is in the wrong.

Being disabled is hard. It impacts her life every day, making her do things differently and making people look at her differently. She’s coped pretty well and can function mostly on her, but it’s not a cakewalk. Clara just hates to think about the fact that she’s disabled. As much as she preaches disability rights and the idea that disabled people are still whole, Clara knows she’s probably ashamed of her disability. She wishes she wasn’t.

Sitting, she glances at the closet. She’s left in silence. Something about that bothers her—the way the wood creaks as her chair shifts, the way her breath sound shaky coming out of her mouth. Clara has been alone. She is used to being alone. But now the silence feels like a curse. It gnaws at her ears, leaving her wanting to clutch them. She twitches, reaching to scratch her opposite arm. A magnetic force pulls her toward the closet, and she cracks the doors open.

Her cello case is dusty. She grabs a ratty shirt she received from a volunteer event and uses it to wipe off the grime before tossing it in the laundry.

Leaning in a way that hurts her back, she unlatches the lid of the case and touches the velvet lining.

No more wallowing. No more avoidance, even if people will try to pin Clara’s success on her disability.

Carefully, she struggles and lifts the heavy instrument into her arms. At first, she doesn’t see the tuner, but some digging reveals it hiding in a small side pocket. Carefully, gently, she plucks the strings together. It makes an ugly mash of a sound, a product of bad tuning. Cringing, she starts to tune all the strings.

Clara reaches for the bow. Hesitance holds her back but only for a moment. Clara drags the bow across the strings in one smooth stroke.

The sound vibrates her whole being, settling into Clara’s bones like an old friend. She breathes slowly, closing her eyes before playing a scale to warm up her fingers. Her fingers shake, and it’s off at first.

She chips away at it for a few hours. Scales, triads, modes, simple songs—Clara practices all them, letting her irritation with Nathan (and herself) fall away into music. It consumes her like it used to, and she doesn’t stop even when her fingers sting without her calluses.

When she goes out for lunch, Nathan is asleep on the couch. With no intent to wake him, she makes herself some yogurt and granola and shovels it down before returning to her office. After that, she manages to do some of the music review work for her job before returning to the cello.

She goes back to sheet music this time, setting it out on a music stand that was hiding in her closet. She’s out of practice and it shows. Frustration bubbles up inside of her slowly, but she keeps playing anyway. Clara’s so wrapped up in the music that she doesn’t even notice Nathan’s presence.

“You play like an angel. I knew it.”

Whipping her head around, she sees him leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He smiles, but she furrows her brows and avoids his gaze. “I wasn’t ready to show you. You have to give a girl a few days of practice.”

A sigh. Nathan steps forward, taking the cello from her and carefully laying it back in its case. Clara clings to the bow, but he pulls her hands away from that too and looks at her fingertips. “You need to rest.”

“But,” she chokes out, “I wanted to play for you.”

Nathan drapes his arms over her shoulders, kissing the crook of Clara’s neck and making a shiver run from her hairline to the base of her spine. “You did,” he murmurs. Nathan squeezes her closer, and she finds herself relaxing.

“You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it.” He pulls away, stepping to the front of the chair and pulling some bandages out of his pocket. He must have seen her injuries and gone to get them before stepping in. With that gentle touch that makes her feel so weak, Nathan bandages her fingers. Blood dots the tip of one, which comes as a shock.

“You’re really something, you know that?” A pause. “Talented. Beautiful. Hardworking.”

“Flattery only gets you so far,” Clara teases, tilting his chin up with her index finger.

He smiles, laughing a dorky half-snort. Something in his eyes is shadowed, and Clara frowns. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Nathan looks up and smiles before tucking hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad to hear you play. I wish…”

Clara creases her eyebrows. “You wish…?”

The shifter finishes quickly, struggling to his feet. “I wish you had more faith in yourself is all. You’re wonderful.”

Heat makes Clara’s cheeks flush pink. “You talk like you’re in the movies or something, you know.”

“Is that bad?” Nathan ducks, squeezing her hand. “In any case, I brought something for you.”

He dodges out of the room to grab something in the hallway and walks back in. He carries a vase of wildflowers—not the ones Clara grows in her garden. Clara presses a hand to her mouth and smiles. If she’s blushing, Nathan’s blushing more. He sets the flowers on the desk.

“I know this is cheesy, but I—”

Clara pulls Nathan close, kissing him. He’s shocked at first, and then he leans into her. This pushes her wheelchair back, and he stumbles into her until it knocks into the wall. Laughing against her lips, he takes her face in his hand and dives in, flicking his tongue inside of her mouth.

She had control of the kiss at first, but he quickly takes command. Clara doesn’t mind at all as he leans his body into hers. He leans his knee between her legs on the wheelchair seat, closing her in with his warmth. His lips, his touch—all of it burns like fire. Clara kisses back, swirling her tongue with his.

It’s a passionate kiss, but it’s a romantic one too. His chest feels broad, closing her in, making her feel safe. She hates the concept of safety, of a man who functions as the protector for a weak girl, especially a disabled one. But Nathan…Clara wonders if, for once in her life, it might not so bad to let herself be weak. She’s not—but she could be if she wanted to, for him.

He nips at her bottom lip, chest pressed to her. His kisses are deep, with their teeth knocking against each other. Gasping, Clara weaves her fingers into his thick, black hair.

They separate, and she breathes hot and heavy into his lips. After a moment, Nathan laughs quietly, the kind of way that vibrates his chest. “I did say I owed you a kiss, didn’t I?”

He pulls away just far enough that she can see the smile in his eyes. Clara reaches her hands up, running her hands over his stubble. “I usually hate when people take care of me.”

Nathan tilts his head, drifting his lips over her cheek. “Good thing you can take care of yourself, huh?”

“You’re different.” Clara rubs her cheek against his affectionately. “It makes me feel spoiled, like it’s a treat. It’s not patronizing when it’s with you.”

Pulling away, Nathan leans his palms on the armrests of her wheelchair and raises an eyebrow. “That’s good.”

“I was thinking,” Clara finds herself saying, “you could…stay here awhile. After the investigation is finished, too.”

Nathan pauses, maintaining eye contact that seems to waver somewhere faraway. Clara holds the sides of his face again, trying to reach him. “Nathan?”

He blinks then smiles gently before kissing the side of Clara’s mouth. “I think I’d like that.”

Warmth spreading through her chest, Clara pulls him into a kiss again. When Nathan pulls away, he twirls her hazelnut-colored hair around his fingers before letting it go.

He pulls away again, leaving Clara cold. She clings to his touch, grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him closer again. “Is that it?”

“I don’t know.” Nathan wears a hesitant, cheeky look. “Did you want something else?”

She laughs. “I was kind of hoping for sex. I’m quite invested in you, Nathanael Walker.”

He laughs, vibrating her to her core. Nathan raises an eyebrow at Clara, taking a step back. One gesture of the head at her open laptop. “Finish up whatever you have to do, huh?”

“Fine,” Clara concedes. “Since we have time.”

One more of those wonderful, deep laughs—this time, however, there’s a nervous hint below the surface. She doesn’t blame him—commitment of any kind Ha got to be hard after his recent loss. Nathan stops in the doorway. “Yeah, no rush, right?” Before she can respond, he’s darted away.

She basks in the glow of her feelings for a moment, the memory of the warmth of his lips still tingling the skin of her cheek.

He’s right—she’s completely neglected her work. Rolling back to the desk, she puts the nose to the grindstone for another hour before dinner. Before she goes back to the dining room, she opens an unread email.

Clara,

Lunch tomorrow? Feeling cooped up—let’s grab food and go for a walk. Or, uh, roll. 11 a.m. at the coffee place?

xx Alice

Smiling, Clara types out an affirmative reply

Be happy to! See you then.

Clara

She closes the email application and shuts her laptop. For a while, Clara gnaws at her lip. Why is she nervous? That’s a question without an answer.

Clara wheels to the coat hangers by the door and grabs a scarf, winding it around her neck. Sighing, she pulls out her phone and looks at the time. 10:40 a.m.

A smile spreads across her face. “Why are you hovering?” She turns the wheelchair around, facing Nathan. He looks tired—Clara knows he didn’t sleep again. He was tossing and turning all night, and it shows on his face today. “Do you want to come? I’m sure Alice would like to speak with you again.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so, and you and I both know that.”

“It was just a suggestion, Nathan.” Clara smiles. “No need to get worked up.”

Nathan nods. He rubs the back of his neck. “Not worked up.” He pauses, his lips parted. Clara watches as he creases his eyebrows. “Have fun at lunch,” he finally says, smiling.

“What, are you going to be lonely?” Reaching for Nathan’s hand, she squeezes it.

He looks distant, but her touch seems to settle him. The shifter leans down and kisses her forehead. “Not for long.”

Clara’s heart swells, and she can’t stop smiling, even after she’s kissed him goodbye and rolled out to her car. Her physical state isn’t so bad today, so she pulls out the ramp and rolls her wheelchair into the backseat of her car. After it was left in town the other day, Nathan snuck down to town and drove it back.

When she gets to the coffee shop, it’s not Alice who greets her. Rolling up to the shop, Clara squints. The woman against the wall by the door glances at her, raising an eyebrow. Her black hair is pulled into a ponytail. She puts out her cigarette against the brick and tosses it in the ash tray by the garbage can.

Clara feels ugly gnarling thing in her gut. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Naomi?”

Chapter 8

Clara wants me to stay, Nathan thinks again.

The knowledge that he can’t stay with Clara hurts. He tries all night, through dinner and into the night hours, to shove it away. He lies in bed next to Clara, listening to her soft breathing and watching deep-blue shadows crawl across the ceiling.

Tomorrow, Naomi will erase Clara’s memory. They will go home, and once again, Nathan will be under the thumb of his sister.

He balls up the sheets in his hand, turning onto his side so his nose presses into the gap between pillows. The bedding smells like her—like honey shampoo and pine deodorant. Nathan swallows, his throat dry.

Sleep evades him, worse now than any of his nights of insomnia in the last month. He scratches his chest, but it doesn’t make the ache in his sternum go away. It’s not a physical problem—just physical symptoms of anxiety.

Eventually, Nathan accepts that sleep isn’t happening. Flipping over, he wraps his arms around Clara. She shifts in her sleep, unconsciously leaning into him. The warmth of her body soothes him but only a little. Any comfort it brings is negated by the cold knowledge that after tomorrow, he won’t see her again.

Naomi is smart—she’s not wrong that human and shifter relationships are often risky. It rarely works out well, even with shifters whose animal parts are relatively docile or easy to deal with. The stress of being a shifter, the way it outcasts you from society, is something humans often can’t understand.

That’s not to say that Nathan doesn’t think of himself as human—in his heart, he does. Just because he can be something else doesn’t mean the human part of him is invalid. Naomi and Luka would not feel the same, and he knows that. He’ll never bring these things up to them.

Nathan knows he’s a special case. The danger, the stress, the things people worry about with human and shifter romantic relationships—all that is made so, so much worse by Nathan’s condition.

He breathes into her neck, a shaky burst of air. The inhale is somehow even worse—strained like that of an asthmatic without an inhaler.

Gently, impulsively, he presses a kiss to Clara’s shoulder. There are a couple moles there, along with a soft sprinkling of clay-colored freckles.

“I love you, Clara,” he tests. When there’s no response, Nathan shudders and says the rest so quietly he doubts she could make it all out if she tried. “I’ll miss you forever, I think. I hope you’ll miss me for less than that.”

Sleep doesn’t come at all that night. At some point, he zones out far enough that his brain quiets for a while. Nathan settles into the darkness and waits for the slow rise of dawn.

They have breakfast together. It’s nothing special this time, just cereal. He doesn’t want Clara to get the impression that he’s going over the top. If he’s learned anything about the woman he’s stayed with for the last month, it’s that she’s smart. If she suspects he’s saying goodbye forever, she won’t leave.

It’s almost disappointing when she doesn’t suspect him at all. His kiss goodbye lingers but only for a moment—only enough to feel like sensual hesitation. It’s not enough for goodbye.

Nathan doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough.

When she leaves, Nathan shuts the door behind her. He stands in the empty space, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. In, out. In, out. Don’t cry. In, out.

“This isn’t worth your tears,” he reminds himself out loud, his voice sounding so much louder now that he’s in an empty house.

Slowly, Nathan opens his eyes. The light is dim. It’s a cloudy day, which is fitting. Usually, the sun shines on his worst days. For once the weather fits his mood, at least.

He makes his way to the kitchen. Nathan’s fingers hesitate over a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. The consideration lasts a minute, tempting him toward a dark place he knows he shouldn’t go, shouldn’t be.

Temptation wins. Nathan unscrews the cap, carefully setting it to the side. Slowly, he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig. Instead of the relief he was expecting, the taste lingers in his mouth and burns his tongue. It wasn’t a big swig—he knows it won’t numb him if he doesn’t drink more.

He screws the cap back on and sets the bottle back before grabbing a glass of water instead. Alcohol won’t help this and he should know that. This isn’t the sort of thing that alcohol fixes. Turning to substance abuse is something he used to do, not something he wants to do now.

Nathan sinks into the reclining chair in the living room, tilting it back. He needs to clear out of here soon, but he figures Naomi will give him a call after Clara’s memory is gone.

He turns his arm over. The cuts are slowly healing, but the bruises remain dark and painful over his tanned skin. Nathan exhales and drops his arm, closing his eyes.

The sound of the doorbell jolts him to his senses a few minutes later. Sitting straight, he tries to calm his pounding heart. Alice? Clara? No, couldn’t be. Naomi wouldn’t let that happen.

Nathan stands and slowly makes his way to the door. He opens it, only to find himself face-to-face with the private investigator from the other day.

Impulse tells him to shut the door and lock it and leave through the back. Common sense, however, stops him. He gapes, furrowing his brow. “What can I do for you, investigator?”

“I’m not on duty,” the man explains, gesturing at his plainclothes. Nathan hadn’t even noticed them—he was too busy thinking about the possibility of being arrested and going to jail. “Please, call me Liam.”

“OK,” Nathan answers hesitantly, narrowing his eyes. This man saw him shift just a few days prior into the exact type of animal shifter they’re looking for. “What can I do for you, Liam?”

“I’m not here to arrest you or interrogate you. I just want to talk.” His tone is desperate, eyes pleading.

Suspicion makes Nathan hesitate. “Why should I talk to you?”

“Because I need your help,” the man begs, “About Naomi.”

“About Naomi?” Nathan says, surprised. “What do you want with my sister?”

“I’ll explain all that,” Liam presses his hands together. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

There’s something in Nathan’s brain that warns him this might be a trap—a ploy for information. He doesn’t know anything about this man. What eventually leads him to make a decision, however, is nothing more than ugly temptation: the temptation of a way out, even if that way is jail. What does he care if he gets arrested? There’s hardly much left for him outside of the big house—just more of his temper causing problems.

He opens the door wide, stepping to the side to allow Liam in. “OK. A few minutes.”

They sit in the living room. Liam looks stressed—he keeps running his hands together. Nathan sits in that same recliner, keeping his posture upright to secure some sense of dominance over the conversation. “Well?”

“I’m in love with your sister,” Liam blurts. “Or, I think that I have the potential to be.”

Nathan snorts and shakes his head. “That’s a shame, then. My sister doesn’t even give shifter men a chance to get in her pants, much less human investigators like you.”

“But we’ve already slept together,” Liam argues. His expression goes dark and serious.

Nathan’s jaw drops. “Oh.”

“Yes,” he explains. “But there’s a lot I don’t understand about her life—about you. It’s blocked me off, and right now Naomi’s angry with me.”

“I don’t blame her.” Nathan looks at the water, not at Liam. “You didn’t even try to understand the full story.”

“But I want to understand,” Liam begs again. “Tell me your side.”

What right does this guy have to come in here and ask for all the details of Nathan’s personal life just so that he can fuck Naomi again? “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Liam admits. “But I…” he trails off, then sighs. “OK, I don’t like shifters. I’ve always hated them—”

“Real nice, you’re convincing me already,” Nathan drawls, grabbing the water glass from earlier and drinking from it.

Liam looks hurt, but the shifter doesn’t care. The other man scratches the back of his head before continuing. “I have…a bad history with shifters. My father was killed by one when I was a child, and my mother killed herself long after,” he admits.

“Sorry for your loss,” Nathan says. “Good to know you’ve decided to hate all us ever since. No wonder you think I killed Mihra.”

“All the facts point toward you killing Mihra—”

“I thought—” Nathan interrupts, snarling a little and turning to Liam, “that this wasn’t an interrogation.” Deep breaths. He tries to relax.

Liam holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s not. But…” He pauses, tilting his head. “What else would be the story?”

Something inside of Nathan breaks all the way, a dam that’s been growing weaker and weaker with every passing day. With Clara’s impending memory erasure, it’s close to bursting. Now, it falls apart and floods.

“My girlfriend,” Nathan says, using the human word, “had clinical depression.” He rubs his face, stubble gritty under his fingertips. “She was medicated, but she refused therapy. I supported her—I did everything I could. I worked every day to keep her happy, but if you know anything about depression you know it doesn’t work like that.”

Breathing slowly, he makes eye contact with Liam. The man’s eyes soften. Nathan continues. “She killed herself. She took pills, a bunch of the ones I’ve gotten over the years for my insomnia. When I tried to stop her, she shifted and gutted herself. It’s no wonder they saw that and decided it must have been me.”

Nathan pauses, watching the investigator wince. Nathan continues. “You’re investigating, so I have no doubt you know about my condition. Of course they’d suspect a shifter with a medical issue that makes him even more dangerous.” He shakes his head. “But I didn’t do it. You can do the more in-depth autopsy they never bothered to do because they were so sure it was a murder.”

There’s a sticky silence as Liam sits. Nathan watches him, and when the man finally looks up, he nods. “I believe you.”

Nathan notices he’s tearing up. He sits straight. “What are you crying for?!”

“I—” The man hesitates. “It’s hard to explain—you wouldn’t understand.”

Nathan snorts. “Try me.”

"My mother, she..." Liam trails off, looking frustrated or perhaps confused. He scratches the back of his head.

Nathan feels irritation bubbling. "She...what, exactly?"

"You know the stories. I'm sure you do." Wringing his hands, Liam gestures. "Shifters who become shifters later in life after contracting a severe illness."

"Yeah, I know." Nathan frowns. "You're a little off base, though. People always have the shifter genes. They don't just gain them later. For some, the abilities stay dormant. What you're talking about is activation."

The investigator nods. "Activation, then. She became a shifter—a brown bear."

A brown bear. Ugly, slow realization gurgles in Nathan's stomach. He lets out a long exhale through his teeth. "Go on."

"She...had trouble controlling herself." Liam shakes his head. "I was twelve. I don't remember as much as I'd like to. I know my father had a lot of trouble with the change. He never liked shifters." He looks to Nathan, but the shifter gestures for him to continue. "She accidentally injured him, Nathanael. He died in a hospital later."

"Oh, lord." Nathan rubs his temples. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Liam looks truly apologetic. He scratches the back of his neck again. "She was the shifter I talked about.” Liam makes a small, sad smile at Nathan. "She killed herself after."

Nathan isn't sure how he's supposed to respond. He nods. Anxiety makes him gnaw on his lip, which makes things worse because it reminds him of Clara and her lip-chewing habit. Discomfort coils and wrestles in his chest like snakes, but he's surprised to find he doesn't feel like he's going to shift. Am I managing my stress better?

"I'd say I'm sorry for your loss, but I already did," he finally says. "Well, fuck. I wish I could tell you that validates how you feel about us and about me in general, but it just makes me feel sorry for you. And you have shifter blood in you, you know."

The man on the couch in front of him gulps. Nathan watches as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and then opens them again. It's a strange display of physical anxiety that makes Nathan feel weird—mostly because he does some of the same things himself.

"That makes sense, I guess," Liam says.

"Don't act like you haven't thought about it before."

Shaking his head, Liam raises a hand in acknowledgment. "No, I have. I think I..." He stops and pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's a hard thing to accept, being different."

"Believe me, I know exactly how you feel," Nathan murmurs, but his brain feels distant.

Nathan wasn't lying. He does know exactly how Liam feels. To what extent, though? Nathan's always been different—hell, he's an outcast among his people. They treat him like a disaster that never should have occurred.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, grinding his teeth. The low tide of the broken dam inside of him starts to get choppy, getting him worked up. “Sometimes,” he murmurs, opening his eyes and looking at Liam, “you have to accept being different and find the best way to live with it.”

“And I have to accept that I have shifter blood,” Liam says.

“Yes.” Nathan cups his hands around his face. “What do I want?” He asks himself out loud.

Liam looks confused. “I think that’s up to you.”

“Rhetorical question. I mean, but ask yourself that as well. Do you want my sister?” Nathan speaks to Liam, but inside his head he’s putting himself through the ringer.

What does he want?

“I want things to be easy, is what I want,” Liam admits, sighing deeply.

It hits deeper than Liam probably realizes—Nathan sits a little straighter. Is that what Nathan wants? For things to be easy? For decisions to be simple? To know exactly the right course of action at every point in time?

Nathan shakes his head and bites his lip. “But things aren’t easy.”

In his head, Nathan wonders if that isn’t the sort of thing Clara would say. Things aren’t easy. Life is hard. “Life is hard. Weakness, less so.” He begins spouting what he thinks she’d say.

“In what way?” The investigator creases his forehead.

“Weakness, or difficulty, it’s—” He thinks for the right way to phrase it. “Without it, there’s no drive. Without a drive, what’s the point?” He looks at Liam. “What’s your drive? What are you fighting for?”

Futzing with his tie, Liam thinks. “I want to be the man Naomi saw before she learned about the rest.”

Nathan nods. “And?”

“I want to stop hating myself for what I am.”

Lips parting, Nathan nods again—slower. The heating from the vent tosses his hair slightly, making it fall into his eyes.

“Me too, Liam.” It feels so simple when he says it out loud, his voice calm and quiet. “Me goddamn too.”

Despite everything that’s happened, Nathan hasn’t shifted yet. His brain flips channels to an image of Naomi.

“You’re uncontrollable. Come home with me.”

Nathan furrows his eyebrows. Is he uncontrollable? He doesn’t feel that way. Clara doesn’t feel that way. Liam, sitting right in front of him, doesn’t even seem to feel that way. What is Clara worth to Nathan? What is he, and his happiness, worth to himself?

The answer comes after a moment. It dawns on him, surfacing from the back of his mind where it had been incubating for God knows how long. It doesn’t feel like a shocking revelation to realize that he’d be better off taking care of himself instead of trying to let his sister guide his life in the direction she thinks is best.

Standing abruptly, he drinks the rest of his glass of water. “If you plan on wooing my sister, you’ve only got a few hours. All of us are…” Nathan slowly corrects. “She’s leaving really soon.”

“I took a taxi here—I’m not allowed to take my work car to personal meetings,” Liam explains. “Is it that urgent?”

“Yes.” Nathan rubs his face, thinking. He needs to go, and he needs to go now if he wants Clara to keep her memory.

If she loses her memory, what then? He asks himself. The answer, however, comes quicker and easier than he expected it to. I’ll just go after her again, from the beginning. A month can be remade. He’d do it over again a thousand times.

Is it worth it to try? To take the risk? Clara's car isn't here, and Nathan isn't about to steal one from the neighbor, at least not with a private investigator with him. He could run, but he'd be giving up any chance he has of getting there in time.

There's only one option. Clara is worth it—more than worth it. He'd choose her every single time.

"Come with me, and hurry." He beckons to Liam, jogging to the door and throwing it open. Using the spare key underneath the doormat, he locks the door and meets Liam in the driveway. "We can get there in time, at least in time for me, but you have to trust me. If you don't, I will leave you behind and you can walk."

"Trust you in what way?"

Nathan gives him a sly smile. "You comfortable riding on the back of a polar bear?"

It takes a moment for Liam to decide. He gulps, hesitating and narrowing his eyes before nodding. All that's left is for Nathan to shift.

It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt like hell, especially this close to his last shift. But what would hurt more than that is seeing Clara look at him without a clue who he is.

The pain is only the first problem. Nathan still can't control himself very well while shifted. Somehow, he doesn't feel worried about that given how relaxed he feels.

The bad news is if it doesn't go well, the private investigator might be injured by Nathan’s bear form. That would land Nathan in jail, if the rest of it didn't already. There isn't a choice, so the risks are the risks are the risks.

Nathan closes his eyes and focuses his energy. Inside his chest, his lungs feel light. There's a ball energy right around his core keeping him grounded, and it grows with every second. Make it a smooth shift. Save me the pain. Let me control myself. Nathan’s done this before many times, as a child. He used to be much better at shifting smoothly and in control of himself, but ever since Naomi tried to regulate his shifting, it’s been much, much harder.

When he starts to change, it hurts but not like normal. It's so smooth, he hardly realizes he's shifting. It takes him, like sinking into warm bathwater. Nathan lets it. He lets fur sprout from his skin—it will always hurt. It’s just part of his illness. Right now, however, Nathan embraces that pain and allows it to make him feel stronger, like he really has to fight for it. He does have to fight for this.

After all, this is all part of him. His condition is a part of him. There's no cure, and there isn't any way to get rid of it except to deal with the problems it deals him. Nathan, for once, feels at peace.

A pained growl pulls its way out of his throat. Still, he pushes his breathing, in, out, in, out, in, out until it's finished.

The ugly, wild side of him threatens to drag itself out. He fights it down as Liam climbs on his back, and Nathan finds himself incredibly grateful that he doesn't have to look at the investigator to get him to do so.

Without hesitation and before controlling himself can get any harder, Nathan starts walking. A walk turns into a jog then a run. Liam doesn't fall off, which is impressive. The man has a tight grip in his fur, which would sting more if Nathan wasn't so used to pain.

Nathan throws himself into it. The woods fly by, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt and grass. Everything is wild—the world, his body, his senses. Everything is wild but his mind.

For once, his head feels clearer than ever.

He can hear Liam yelling, but over the wind there’s no real way to hear. Nathan lets himself go in the best way, the rhythm of his feet on the ground beating deep into his consciousness. His muscles burn—his wounds burn more.

Panic doesn't overtake him. His control over himself is better than usual—better than it's been since he was a kid. Still, the wild side of him fights just enough to leave him with only focus and adrenaline. Anxiety fades. He lets his body do the work, quietly thanking it for doing so.

Nathan breaks through the trees, twigs snapping in his face. As they get to town, he slows to a stop. Passersby run for the sides of the road, screaming. When he stops, Liam slips off and to the side. Nathan lets himself relax. Slowly, he finds himself shifting to normal. When he does, he kneels on the ground, body aching. Everything burns. He's not dead, and he won't be going to the ER any time soon, but it hurts. His bruises will get worse over the next few days, and Nathan's dreads how awful he'll look.

But that hardly matters now. Struggling to his feet, Nathan looks around. Liam is near, panting and leaning on his knees like he's dizzy, hair windblown. The hair on Nathan's head is fine. His polar bear fur is different than the hair on his head—the two never exist at once.

"Leave Naomi to me for now, OK?" Nathan commands, voice coming out strained and ugly like he has a sore throat.

Liam nods. "I have something else to do first, anyway." The man looks around, still breathing heavily. He waves the shifter away. "Go. You were in a rush, weren't you?"

Yes, he was.

Nathan throws himself down the street in human form. His limbs ache from his run in bear form—some things don't change when he shifts. It's even worse now because of new shifting injuries. Nathan's used to some of this. Before Mihra, this was every day. It's only fitting that he should have to fight for that comfort the same way he did before her.

He gets to the coffee shop, passing Clara's car on the way there. She's still here. One peek inside of the windows, however, shows that she's not here. Fuck. Unsure what else to do, he goes inside to the barista.

"Hey, did you see where Clara and the dark-haired woman went?"

The man furrows his brow. "Are you Nathan? She mentioned you while ordering." He smiles, and Nathan bites down his irritation and rushed attitude as the man continues. "They were going for a walk on the beach, I believe. You can access it via the docks to the right of the store."

"Thank you." Nathan breaks for the door. "Thank you so much."

Once out of the store, Nathan runs for the docks. The wood feels old under his feet—old and unstable. He ignores the pain of movement once again and jumps off the docks onto the sound. At first, he thinks they're not here. Then all the way down the beach, he sees a figure pushing a wheelchair on the thin stretch of sidewalk before the sand and the shoreline. Her memory's not gone yet.

If Naomi's been convinced by Clara to put it off for as long as she has, there's not much time left. He books it, somehow pushing his body to the absolute limit. His feet ache, and his ankles burn, but he can't stop. Running on the sand makes it worse.

Nathan can taste salt in the air, in the wind. It seeps into his senses, making him dedicated—making him feel alive.

As he gets closer, the two stop. Naomi's figure moves to the side, kneeling before the wheelchair. No.  I'm so close. Nathan gasps, desperately running. If there's a God, if there's anyone out there, let me make it in time.

Naomi presses her hands to the sides of Clara's head, and Nathan can't contain himself anymore.

"Don't touch her, Naomi—” His voice is deep and strong, loud. The figure looks up and abruptly stands.

"Go home! We agreed on this together."

Nathan finally reaches them. Clara looks up, a sad and tired expression on her face. "Nathan...."

He smiles before turning to Naomi. "No. You chose this for me, just like you’ve always chosen everything in my life." Tilting his head, Nathan tosses his windblown bangs out of his eyes. "And I’ve decided I don't want what you want.”

Something angry and dark and bitter tints Naomi's expression. "You’re being ridiculous. I just want to protect you and make sure you’re safe—”

"You may want that, but you haven’t achieved it,” he interjects. “I’m not as off the handle as you think. I shifted on the way here and controlled myself the whole way. When I was a kid, I could do this better, and I know I can learn to again. Your tactics have only just suppressed things I’d be better off letting out and learning to deal with.”

Naomi winces, looking upset and angry at the same time. "That’s subjective. I didn’t know you could still..." She trails off. “But I still believe this is right. You’re not ready to be on your own, and we both know that. And you can’t stop me. I can always just shift and get you out of the way. Then I could erase her memory with no issue.”

"I’m twenty-five, Naomi. I’m more than ready," Nathan shakes his head, righting his footing and grinding his teeth. "And nice try, but I can smell the recent shift on you. Guardian or not, you can't change forms for at least another hour."

His sister looks wounded. A small growl rips out of Naomi’s throat, and she throws a hard and fast punch that lands on Nathan’s jaw. Stumbling, he holds his hands up in a blocking position. After her initial, wild throw, Naomi settles more into stance. There’s no real fighting code for shifters, but they grew up together. There are some standards they’re used to.

“Stop—” Clara seems shocked, her voice breaking.

Stopping isn’t an option. Nathan narrowly avoids a kick from Naomi, dodging to the side. The siblings throw themselves into the fight, but it’s more intense than the way they used to spar as kids.

Nathan knows he's at a disadvantage. Maybe in a fair fight in human form, he'd be fine, but his body is pushed to the brink. His lungs burn, and all his hits feel slow and lethargic. Heaving, he stumbles and gets hit in the jaw by another of Naomi's punches. The sting sends him reeling—he barely avoids falling to the ground.

Irritation shows in Naomi's face as she moves quickly around him, trying a side kick that he blocks easily despite his exhaustion. Nathan spits blood, smirking. "You've lost your touch, Naomi."

That makes her hiss, expression caught somewhere between steely and guilty. "Don't fool yourself, little brother. I'm going easy on you."

She speeds up, moving around him faster than he can turn. Nathan jumps back, avoiding an uppercut. He retaliates with a kick, but she grabs his leg and twists. He knows how to counter this one, though—an opposing twist yanks his foot away, and he uses her compensation time to land a fingertip hit to her gut.

Nathan can’t keep up with her forever, and she feints and lets herself be hit by one of his punches in order to kick down and swipe his feet out from underneath him. Nathan falls hard and fast, grateful that the sand provides some cushion to his already messed-up body.

Clara calls out. "Naomi, hold on. He's hurt—”

"I'm not stupid, Clara," the shifter woman spouts. “Do you think I wouldn't notice my brother's injuries?"

She steps on Nathan's chest, holding him down. He gasps, groaning. Hair astray now and fallen out of its ponytail, Naomi looks bedraggled. The look she gives Nathan could only be one of sadness and confusion. "Why are you doing this? Who do you think I am? Your prison guard holding you hostage?" She snorts, but the laugh doesn’t feel genuine. "I'm doing what's best for you. Don't act like a child and try to pretend that I'm not right about this."

Nathan closes his eyes. Surprisingly, he doesn't really feel worked up at all. If anything, Naomi's energy is the aggressive one. He can’t help but pity her and hope that she finds a way to accept and deal with whatever’s going on in her life. It’s probably related to Liam, the investigator.

"You're not right about this," Nathan breathes.

"What?"

"I said you're not right about this." His eyes snap open, and he sits on his elbows, pushing past Naomi's foot. The bruises on his chest under the pressure of her sneaker ache. "The only one acting like a child is you, Naomi."

Anger bubbles in her expression, and there's an ugly pause that makes Nathan taste something bad. She narrows her eyes and starts to speak, but Nathan cuts her off. "I'm not a kid anymore. You're acting like my big sister on the playground again, protecting me from everyone else and myself."

"I still need to do that!" She presses a hand to her chest, trying to defend herself. "You—”

Incredulous, Nathan shakes his head. "No, you goddamn don't." He grabs Naomi's foot and shoves it off him. "I'm not some sort of ticking time bomb. I'm a human being." He pauses, narrowing his eyes. "Don't pretend like you're not taking out your issues on me, either."

"What?" Naomi takes a step back, black hair tossing in the wind. She furrows her eyebrows, looking confused and frustrated beyond belief. She struggles for words. "Explain."

"What is there to explain, Naomi?" Nathan struggles to his feet. "I spoke with Liam. 'Human and shifters just can't work together?' What a fucking joke. Are you disciplining me, Naomi, or are you disciplining yourself?"

Shock paints Naomi's face white, and she pales right in front of him. To his right, a sharp intake of breath reminds Nathan of Clara's presence. He grins at her. While he's distracted, Naomi takes her chance. Nathan finds himself slammed against a tree trunk.

"Look at you. You shifted and you look like this. You're all beaten up by your body. I was there when you shifted in the square, and I was the one who stopped you. What will you do when it happens again and I'm not around? Will you go to jail for assault and take it in stride? Can you deal with that pain?"

"That's all what-ifs," he retaliates. "That's life. You never know what will happen. If all us played it safe, there'd be nothing left. I know I can control myself better than you give me credit for."

Naomi looks desperate. She pulls at strings. "But you have it so much worse than others, Nathan. You know it's harder for you."

"Yes. You're right, it's harder for me," he admits. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, pushing him forward. Nathan's surprised to find that he doesn't think it's Clara's presence doing this to him—it's his desire to be his person. "But I'm not willing to hide forever being afraid of who and what I am. If anyone's made me worse and stressed me out and pushed my condition to the brink, it's you, Naomi."

"What about pain, then? What about your injuries? Who will help you when you shift too much by accident and find yourself bleeding out by the side of the road?"

"I'll help myself, Naomi," he murmurs. Whatever energy for argument he had is gone. He just wants to explain. "I will fucking help myself. That, or someone around me will take me to the doctor. Pain is normal. Injuries mean nothing beyond just that. Pain. It's just a physical sensation."

Naomi opens her mouth but he interrupts her again. "But you know what really hurts, Naomi—what really digs in and stings?" He pushes her off him, sidestepping. Emotion overtakes him, but he finds that he's calm. "Watching your lover die in front of you and being able to do nothing about it. That hurts. Being blamed for the death of the one person who viewed you like a person and not a burden—that's a real injury. That's worse than anything."

Her face softens with hurt and she tucks hair behind her ear. "Nathan," she pleads. "I didn't—”

"Like hell you didn't," Nathan murmurs. "You pushed that on me as much as anyone else. You're the one who said I put stress on Mihra and pushed her to kill herself when we both know that's not the case. You're just ordering me around like you've always done. It's all so you can feel like you're achieving something—like I'm your charity case."

Naomi shakes her head. “No, I love you. You’re my little brother—that’s why I do it.”

“Yes,” he affirms. “I love you, too. I love you so much, but you have to let me go.”

She's silent for a while, and after a moment she drops her eyes to the sand. Nathan knows there's no fight in her anymore, physically or mentally.

He steps forward, toward a depressed-looking Naomi. Carefully, he pulls her into a hug. “I know you’re protective over me,” he murmurs. “But I’m an adult man, and I’m stronger than you think. This is not your business anymore.” He steps back, holding her cheeks. “Stop treating me like a pet you have to watch and start focusing on your life.”

Naomi closes her eyes. “I still think you’re unstable.”

“Then think I’m unstable. But before you judge me, I think you should focus on the things you’re avoiding in your life. I love you, but you can’t do this to me forever. I’m calling an end to it now.”

He pulls away and shrugs at her with a small smile. There isn’t any energy for bitterness left in him. “Liam seems like a nice guy.”

Naomi shakes her head. “That’s not your business.”

“Fine,” he concedes, holding up his hands and backing up. “Make your choices. But don’t make mine for me.”

Not waiting any longer, he goes to Clara, while Naomi turns to trudge away from them. Clara looks up at him.

Nathan drops to his knees on the pavement of the small walkway, leaning toward Clara and dropping his head in her lap. Just like before, she runs her fingers through his hair. Winded from running and from the fight, he focuses on easing his burning lungs. Clara stays quiet—she doesn’t push him.

After a moment, he looks up. “I was worried,” she said. “You have no clue how depressed I was, Nathan.”

“Oh, I think I do,” he teases. “You should have seen me.”

“I’m glad you came around.” Clara pushes his hair back and out of his eyes with her fingers.

He squeezes Clara’s free hand. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t help defend you against Naomi. I didn’t know what to say—I thought it’d make it worse.”

Nathan shakes his head. “No, you were right not to say anything. It would have just convinced her that I was only doing this because of some sort of honeymoon-phase obsessive love.” The shifter stands, groaning. He sees Clara wince, staring at his battered body. “I needed to do this myself. It’s been coming a long time. I know there’s strength in weakness that she’ll probably never know because she’s so afraid to be weak at all.”

Clara nods. “I’m glad.”

When he weaves his fingers through Clara’s, it feels like home. Her skin is soft, but there are old calluses on her fingertips and Band-Aids on some. She is real. “You asked me before,” he begins, “if I’d like to stay with you longer.”

“And you lied,” Clara points out.

“Yeah.” Nathan looks up. There isn’t any judgement in Clara’s gaze, just forgiveness. Any apprehension he’d had fades away. “What do you say about giving me another chance? No lies this time—just the truth.”

Amusement flashes in her eyes. “Just the truth, huh? I think I might be able to swing another try.” She gently squeezes Nathan’s hand. “I’m afraid I’ve got no guest room, though. You may have to sleep in my bed.”

Nathan looks down at her. What happens now? A job, of course. He doesn’t know what will happen with the investigation, but he’s got a suspicion Liam and Naomi will take care of that. If not, well…there’s still evidence they didn’t gather. Nathan figures he’ll probably be fine.

A breeze tosses Clara’s hair and fills Nathan’s nostrils with the scent of the sea.

“I think I might be able to swing that,” he teases. “That is, if you make up for it by kissing me now.”

Clara smiles, a quirky half-smirk that makes Nathan wonder how deep his feelings go. How far could they go? “Get down here, then.” She tugs at his hand.

As Nathan dips down to kiss her, he knows he can’t wait to find out.

Chapter 9

Fifteen months later

Breathe.

Carefully, slowly, deliberately, Clara pulls the bow across the strings. Falling into the sound, she switches notes. Inside her head, she counts.

The rhythm feeds her. It feels so natural, so normal. She's got this memorized, so she doesn’t turn the page of sheet music. Clara lets herself be consumed by the music.

Clara’s eyes are focused on her fingers. She shifts her posture, moving with a crescendo. The music pulls out of her, the most natural thing she's ever known.

Time doesn't work the same here. It consumes and eats her alive. Her fingers sting but not much. Practice has changed that. Finally, Clara pulls her bow from the cello and looks over the concert hall.

There are so many faces, looking like separate bobbing pinheads. Applause rings as the sound of her instruments fades out of the arched wood walls. Lips parting, she looks at the sea of people before a volunteer takes her cello from her, allowing her to transfer to her wheelchair and move stage right.

Once in the small side hallway, she lets out a long breath. Her heart beats steadily, thumping in her chest. A volunteer pats her on her shoulder. "You OK, Ms. Summers?"

"Oh," she answers quickly. "Yes. It's just strange."

"What is?" She sees her cello being packed in its case and feels grateful that they're being gentle with it. The volunteer asks again. "Ms. Summers?"

"Just call me Clara." She smiles at him. "It's fine. It's been a long time since I've played in front of this many people.

"It's very brave of you," he says, uttering the cursed words.

Clara resists rolling her eyes and settles for smiling. She reminds herself that not everyone understands why that sort of wording bothers her.

"That's very nice, but it’s not a bravery thing. I didn't stop playing because of my disability." She rolls down the hallway, glad she chose a dress with a shorter skirt so nothing catches in the wheels. "I stopped playing because I was concerned people would call me brave for a skill I learned before I had to use a wheelchair."

She turns a cheeky grin to the man, who looks embarrassed. He starts to apologize, but she waves him off. "Happens all the time." She pauses. "Is there anything left to do backstage or can I go out to the reception?"

"We're having your cello loaded into the car you came here in. Go on out." Another volunteer walks up and speaks to Clara. She gestures toward the door, and Clara doesn't hesitate as she wheels toward it and hits the button to automatically open it with her palm.

The ramp isn't steep, and she takes the winding way down to the main area. It's not the most wheelchair accessible concert hall she's played in, but for this performance, she didn't want to perform anywhere big.

At the base of the stairs, she stops to run her fingers over a poster with her silhouetted photo. Clara Summers' Solo Comeback Concert—$15 general admission, $10 for student and seniors. July 4th, 6–7p.m.

When she rolls her chair into the main room, Clara is swept up in a flurry of activity. Surrounded by audience members, she tries to greet as many as she can and stay friendly. The attention is overwhelming.

Someone squeals and swoops her into a hug. The perfume is familiar. Rosebud. "Hey, Mom.”

Her mom pulls back, squishing her cheeks in her hands. "Honey, you were so wonderful. I am so proud of you." The brunette, whose hair is in a bob cut, smiles gently. "You are so strong. You've pushed through all this with such stride."

"Yeah, the years of schooling were really difficult," Clara says, hiding her irritation beneath a layer of sugar. She smiles. “It’s all about practice.”

Her mom looks distant, and a little...disappointed? "Well, but honey, your legs—”

"I worked hard for this. It's nice to have everyone's support as I start to play again. It’s not about my legs. It’s about me knowing what people think of my disability shouldn’t stop me from playing just because I want my hard work to be recognized."

Clara squeezes her mom's hand, cutting off her tirade. Her peripheral vision searches for the single person she wants to see right now. He’s nowhere in sight.

"Oh, but you're such a talent." The middle-aged woman pinches her cheek. "What next? An orchestra? An album? I'm so proud of you."

Shaking her head, Clara raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure—I guess we'll see. Talent is a fallacy, besides. Thank you for all your support throughout the years. I know I've pushed myself. I'm proud of myself as well."

"You're welcome, sweetie." Completely missing the point, her mother lights up and clasps her hands together. "Are you looking for Nathanael? I just saw him."

There it is. "You did? Where?"

"Closer than you think." A familiar, deep voice resounds in her ear, and Clara feels arms weave around her front. Nathan drifts his lips over her ear and kisses her temple, making her shudder. "You were so wonderful. Every note was perfect. I don't know how you do it."

"Like I said," Clara responds, quiet and teasing, voice almost a purr. "With hard work."

"I've been telling her," Clara's mother chimes in, gushing, "she's a natural talent and such a hard worker to forge past her disability."

Clara can't see Nathan's expression while he's behind her, but she has no doubt it's guarded. He laughs. "You give her less credit than she deserves, Mrs. Summers. I highly doubt the muscular sclerosis has much to do with it. Right, Clara?"

Relief washes through her. "Right." She smiles, tilting her head and looking up. Nathan looks just as wonderful as always but more put-together now. His black hair is combed out of his eyes, and he is wearing a dress shirt and tie. It's an unusual sight for him.

"You look amazing," she smiles. "So clean and formal."

He opens his mouth to speak, but he's cut off by Clara's mother again. "It is a change, isn't it? I say Nathan's a unique boy either way." She smiles at them both, clasping her hands together. "You two are so cute, I can scarcely believe it. Nathan, I've said this before, but you're simply a charm for being able to hook Clara. She's so dodgy—always has been."

"Well," he jokes, catering to her mom's whims in that clever way he always does, "I had to put up a fight. She’s a real fixer-upper, that one.” Nathan flicks his tongue out at Clara, making her roll her eyes.

By the time they finally manage to extract themselves from the concert hall and get to Clara's car, it's dark. With Clara's cello loaded into the back, Nathan gets into the driver’s seat and the two begin the drive back to Port Murmure.

Clara leans her head against the window, staring at a purple-blue night. Nathan taps on the steering wheel with his pointer finger. She muses out loud. "You're the real fixer-upper in this relationship, you know." Clara turns to him, teasing.

Nathan raises an eyebrow. "Of course, I know that. I'm surprised you didn't bring it up then. Thank you for keeping my pride intact." He laughs.

Clara sighs, smiling. She could fall into that laugh of his, the comfortable one that tells him he's happy. It's like a safe zone—a reminder that things are OK. More than OK.

Nathan reaches over and squeezes her fingers with his right hand, steering with the other. His touch is warm, making her shiver. She leans into it as Nathan runs his thumb back and forth over her hand and knuckles.

The feeling of it lulls into somewhere else, somewhere dreamlike. His touch is soft, even with the rough skin on his hands. He works as an EMT again, now—Port Murmure was hiring to help man the emergency line and ambulance. Clara has never seen him happier, which is good. His happiness is infectious. Nathan's comfort makes her feel like she can tackle anything. She wonders, in the back of her mind, if he feels the same way about her.

While driving into Port Murmure again, she speaks up. "Nathan, how does love feel?"

"In general?"

"No," Clara corrects, "For you."

There's a small pause. He bites his lip, tapping on the steering wheel once more. "Love feels like...a warm bath in the dead of winter." When he pauses, the car feels alive with energy. His voice is so smooth, and Clara hangs onto every word. "You're cold but not freezing to death. You get home and take off your gloves and coat and hang them up." He turns onto the road leading to Clara's house. "Then you put away your boots and your bag. It's not an immediate switch to warmth, but you can feel it coming. You turn on the water and get undressed. When you finally step into the bath, it's everything. The anticipation is half of it. The rest is the feeling. It surrounds you entirely. Every aspect of who and what you are."

"Not like a natural high, right?" Clara raises an eyebrow.

He shakes his head. "No. It's much slower than that." Reaching to his chest, Nathan rubs the spot where his heart would be. "It's a glow from deep within."

"And to think that I'm the one who writes for a career," she teases. It's dark in the car and so she can't see his blush, but Clara is certain it's there.

When they park at the house, Nathan comes around the side and picks her up bridal style in his arms. Clara squeals, heart pounding.

Nathan laughs. It has a calming effect, and Clara leans into his body. The shifter smiles. "I've got a surprise."

He locks the car, careful not to drop Clara, before carrying her past the gardens and down a set of steps to the beach. The steps are new and not really steps—they're scaffolding for a ramp. As of right now, that leaves only Nathan beach access with ease. Clara could find a way to get to the beach while walking, but there'd be no way to get back. The ramp will be good.

She leans closer into Nathan's chest. With her ear pressed to his skin, Clara can hear his heartbeat. "You're a hopeless romantic," she comments, eyes darting up to Nathan's.

When he looks down, the shifter seems more intrigued and amused than embarrassed. "Maybe so," he admits. "But I'm the most dangerous type of hopeless romantic."

"And what type would that be?"

Nathan steps onto the sound, a tiny smirk on his face. "The type, Ms. Clara Summers, with a habit of well-planned, terribly cheesy dates.” He snickers, and Clara has no choice but laugh with him.

She looks toward the ocean. Near the tide line but far enough that they won't be getting wet any time soon, there's a blanket laid out with rocks. There's a basket, too, and two wine bottles.

"None of this was here before we left, Nathan." Clara smiles. "Who did this?"

He shakes his head. "I have to have some secrets."

"Luka, then?"

Nathan snorts and sets Clara on the blanket in her formalwear. Fine, you've got me. Took a lot more convincing than it should have, too—he's a prat and a royal pain."

Nathan pours wine. There’s cheese and crackers, too, making Nathan’s statement about this being a cheesy date pretty accurate. It’s late, the moon high in the sky and leaving the beach glowing silver.

They talk. It’s natural. Drinking happens, but not too much. Neither drink in excess anymore, and that’s a good thing.

At some point, exhaustion hits. Not a desire for sleep—just a bodily tiredness that makes Clara lie back, laughing. She stares at the sky.

Nathan falls back next to her and weaves their fingers together. “Sometimes I think the stars are all little eyes, watching us rotate around the sun again and again.”

“Are you afraid of what they’d see?”

Clara shakes her head and smiles. “No. Are you?”

“Not anymore.” He leans over and kisses Clara’s shoulder, lips lingering on the skin and charging the moment with intimacy. “Not these days.”

Nathan sits slowly, leaning on his bent knees. Clara stays lying back. It’s more comfortable like this. Nathan reaches and brushes hair out of her eyes before leaning down and kissing her on the lips.

When he pulls away, the shifter looks distant. Even in the dark, Clara can see that look. She knows it. “There’s something on your mind.”

He nods. Clara raises an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

Gently, Nathan reaches a hand behind Clara’s back and helps her sit up. He ruffles her hair, leaning in and kissing her neck. Clara’s heart sinks. Is he leaving? Has he has enough of me? Has he had enough of this town? The way he’s acting makes her feel anxious.

Smile dropping, Nathan creases his brow. “Clara, is something wrong?”

“You aren’t…” She trails off. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?”

His eyes go wide. “No! Absolutely the opposite.”

Nathan smiles at her, and Clara feels drawn into his soft gaze. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulls out a small box. Clara’s heart thumps in her chest, speeding up as he sits in front of her. “If you can’t stand, I suppose kneeling has little purpose,” he murmurs, a dopey smile on his face.

“Oh,” Clara breathes, grasping the situation.

Nathan opens the box, revealing a silver ring with a tiny, inlaid diamond. “I know you like subtle.” He sounds nervous, his voice wavering. Clara’s mouth feels dry as he continues.

“I know I’m eclectic. I know I don’t make sense, and to accept this would be to accept the faults I’m not sure how to get rid of yet, along with ones that will never go away.”

The shifter grabs Clara’s hand, squeezing it. “But if you don’t mind that—if you don’t mind knowing I have claws—” He snorts, and Clara giggles. “If you don’t mind that—Clara Summers, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Clara’s heart flips in her chest. She shivers, emotionally overwhelmed. Nodding, she smiles and chokes back her tears. “Yes. More than anything, yes.”

Nathan’s lips twitch as he pulls the ring out and slips it onto her finger. It takes a few tries with how shaky his hands are from excitement. Once it’s on, Clara takes his hands in her. “There’s very little you could have done wrong to ever make me say no.”

“I love you,” Nathan chokes out, emotional and teary-eyed.

“I love you too, Nathanael Walker.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Clara kisses him. It’s not a powerful kiss or one driven by passion. It’s a gentle kiss—they mold into each other as part of a whole. She called him a hopeless romantic, but it’d be a blatant lie to say she’s not one, too.

And that’s why they work. Weird people connect like magnets.

Nathan runs his thumb over her cheek as he kisses her. When he pulls away, it’s only enough to get a good breath. Their lips are still almost touching. Clara leans their foreheads together and rubs the side of her face against his. “What’s your next plan?”

“I think that was most of it,” he laughs, “I didn’t plan this far.”

Clara laughs, pulling away a bit. “Did you think I would say no?”

“No, just didn’t plan,” the shifter admits, standing and stretching. He looks out to the sea. “I just knew I wanted to do it here, since there aren’t good ways to get yourself to the beach.”

He turns to Clara before ducking down and placing the empty glasses and bottles in a basket. He tucks away the blanket as well.

When he lifts Clara, she holds the basket. Clara feels like it’s all a dream. She almost pinches herself, but the heartbeat in Nathan’s chest as he carries her is far too real.

Once inside, Nathan puts her down on the couch and sets the basket on the counter. After putting away anything perishable in the fridge, he leans against the table and looks at Clara.

“You know I didn’t have a continuation to this plan,” he teases, making her heart leap. “What about you, Clara? Now that you’ve agreed to marry me, what’s your next step?”

She stares at him, eyes wide while she thinks. Clara bites at her lip, flicking her tongue over her teeth. “I think I’d like my fancy new fiancé to spoil me.”

He laughs, running fingers through his dark locks. It was combed back neatly at the concert hall, but now it’s messy. Clara doesn’t mind at all—the way the strands of hair fall into his eyes make him look rougher—more like him.

Stepping forward, Nathan leans over the back of the couch so his face is close to Clara’s. “I think I could manage that. Bedroom sound good to you?”

“Yes, please,” Clara says.

He carries her to the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. Nathan presses his hands next to Clara’s torso and starts to kiss her neck, but she pushes him away.

An amused smile spreads across her face. “Strip for me.”

Nathan laughs. His face blossoms, red and he turns away, running fingers through his hair to shake it out. He undoes the tie, setting it on the dresser. In the mirror by the closet, he makes eye contact with Clara.

She bites her lip, a smile teasing her lips. Nathan unbuttons the top half of the buttons of his shirt. It slides down his neck to the edges of his shoulders, making the tucked-in shirt bunch around his waist and the rolled-up sleeves above his elbow.

Staring at his hands, he undoes the rest of the buttons before slipping the garment off his body. God, his body. If Clara’s not used to it when they’ve been together over a year, she’ll probably never be used to it. Nathan folds the garment and sets it on the dresser before turning back to Clara.

“Your pants?” She raises an eyebrow.

Nathan shakes his head. “I’d like to take turns, love.”

With a slow and deliberate tenderness that makes Clara shiver, he kisses up Clara’s legs to the top of her stockings. She wonders how long it took him to realize they were thigh-highs and not normal nylons. Reading her mind, Nathan answers the question.

“I guessed you were wearing these,” he purrs. “But It’s a wonderful discovery to find that I was right.”

Gently gripping the top of one of the thigh highs, he pulls it down her leg and removes the dress shoe before taking her sock off, then the next one. All the way down, Nathan leaves teasing kisses with dragging teeth.

Clara breathes deeply, slowly, trying to keep herself from getting too excited too fast. It’s no use—no matter what she tries not to feel, Nathan’s tenderness will drag it out of her.

Straddling her thighs, Nathan reaches for the chest of Clara’s dress. It has a few buttons that go down to the bottom of the ribs, but then it’s just skirt. He unfastens the buttons then slides the straps of the dress over her shoulders. If it wasn’t such a warm summer, Clara would be able to blame her shivering on the cold.

Nathan cups her face in his hands, leaning in and kissing her. At first, his lips barely brush her. He teases her, parting his lips only slightly—just enough so that she can feel his breath. After a moment, Nathan kisses her in earnest. Melting in his hands, she lets him take control of her mouth, tongue, body, anything. He can have anything he wants—any part of her that he desires.

Without much effort or thought, Clara’s pulled into the contact. She kisses him back, flicking her tongue against his bottom teeth. Nathan nips at her top lip, making her whine and jolt underneath him.

All too soon, he pulls away and leaves her breathless. Drifting his kisses over her skin, Nathan kisses Clara’s jaw—her cheekbone—her ears. He tugs at the top of her ears with his teeth, the heat of his breath seeping intensity into everything he does. Clara gasps quietly when he nips at her neck, leaving marks she know will last. “God—”

He looks up and brushes hair out of her eyes. “Doing OK?”

“Yes,” she breathes, positively glowing. “More than yes.”

Laughing heavy and deep, Nathan peels her dress off. Underneath, he notices the matching black lace lingerie and runs his fingers over the fabric. Clara shivers as his touch runs over her breasts.

“Oh, naughty girl. You had plans of your own.” Nathan’s voice dips into a possessive growl.

“I did think it was a possibility,” Clara admits freely. Nathan dips his head down and kisses her sternum in the valley between her breasts.

He body worships her, leaving kisses all over her skin. Clara breathes slowly, closing her eyes.

“You,” he finally murmurs, “are so beautiful.”

She opens her eyes and finds him staring at her, his expression a mixture of lust and adoration.

Clara weaves her fingers into his thick, black hair. "You're not so bad yourself."

He presses forward, capturing her in a passionate kiss. Clara drops her hands to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them as he breathes love and sex into her lips. He's already hard—she runs her fingers over his length through his boxers.

Nathan pulls back a bit, breathing shakily into her lips. As Clara continues to drift her fingers over his groin, he shudders and makes circles with his thumbs over her shoulders.

Clara leans her head to the side of his and breathes close to his ear. "I want to taste you."

Nathan lets Clara push him onto his back on the bed. She shifts down the bed so her mouth is near his hips.

Clara passes his lips over his skin, kissing his hips and following his happy trail to the hem of his boxers. There, she slides them down and frees his cock from the fabric. He gently pets her hair as she kisses up his length, flicking her tongue against the top. She drags it out as long as possible, letting him twitch underneath her. Finally, she takes him into her mouth and slowly starts to move her head.

Nathan groans, so low it's barely audible. The sound makes Clara whine as she sucks him off. She can feel him wanting her to go deeper as he clenches his fingers in her hair. With one of her hands, she gently pats his to let him know it's OK.

He's hesitant at first, but her fiancé slowly begins to push her head down onto him. Clara gags a little at first then gets used to the sensation. Taking most of him into her mouth, she swirls her tongue. The way Nathan whines under her touch makes it even more satisfying.

She pulls off before he can get close to finishing, wiping off her mouth with the back of one end. "You're amazing," Nathan breathes heavy as he watches her.

A fire lights in Clara's eyes.

Nathan abruptly switches their positions, pulling Clara to his level and then flipping on top of her. He leaves hasty, quick, tickle-inducing kisses all over her shoulders and chest. She laughs, swatting at him.

When he finally looks at her again, he's smiling. Staring up at him in the dark of her room, Clara decides that the smile of this man—the one with the green eyes, the one with the black hair that's almost always messy, the one who's forgetful and still tries his best—is one of her favorite sights in the world.

"Do you want to use a condom today?" Nathan kisses her neck below her ear then pulls back to look at her again.

Clara shakes her head. "No. Whatever happens happens." She wraps her hands around the back of his neck. "I just want you. All you."

Nathan nods. Smiling, he runs the back of his fingers over Clara's cheek before sinking down the length of the bed to her groin. Careful not to damage them, he slips the thin, delicate panties off and tosses them to the side. Clara leans back and closes her eyes, feeling his breath near her most delicate area.

He flicks his tongue against her clit, and Clara breathes in sharply. She grips the comforter in her fingers as he swirls his tongue around her, delicately drifting his lips over her groin. He exhales, the warm air pressure making Clara shift her legs and hold in a gasp. Nathan teases her, moving her closer and closer with his tongue.

He presses his tongue against her opening, dipping it inside of her. She moans quietly, fingers finding purchase in his thick hair. "God, Nathan, save some for the main event.” He flicks his tongue against her clit again.

The shifter pulls away. His hair is everywhere like usual, an amused look in his beautiful green eyes. "This is the Nathan I fell in love with," Clara murmurs.

He raises an eyebrow. "The one who gives good cunnilingus?"

Going red, Clara grabs a pillow and throws it at him. "No, you dumbass—”

After failing to dodge the pillow, Nathan laughs and replaces it at the front of the bed. "I know, I'm just teasing.” He tucks the hair behind her cheek. "I love you, too."

"I mean," she murmurs, smiling cheekily at him. "I did, a little bit, also fall in love with the part of you who eats me out. That's a pretty measurable benefit."

"Glad you appreciate my talents," he snorts, kissing her neck and collarbone.

He positions himself at her opening and waits for a nod from Clara before slowly pushing in. He's done the work to get her ready, so there's no pain. Nathan moans, low and vibrating, as he pushes in all the way. Once he's in to the hilt, he leans and captures Clara's mouth in a kiss.

They stay like that for a while so that both of them can adjust, but eventually Nathan starts moving. He pulls out, then slowly pushed in again. All the while, Clara holds onto his forearms and breathes. A shiver runs down her back as he increases his pace.

She whines, hearing her fiancé’s moans in return.

He pulls one arm away from her, bringing it between her legs to grind against her clit. Clara inhales sharply, digging her nails into his arm. He doesn't mind.

Pounding into her, Nathan leans forward and captures her in a deep kiss. She latches onto his lips, biting at the bottom one and moaning into his lips. After a bit, she gasps for air and murmurs into his lips. "I'm close. God, I'm close—”

Nathan moans into the skin of her neck and bites down gently, making her gasp. He keeps moving his hand as he climaxes inside of her and Clara finds herself at a finish, moaning in shuddering gasps.

They just stay like that for a while, coming down from their climaxes and breathing into each other’s mouths. Nathan’s hair falls into Clara’s eyes. Lying there, she can still taste him on her lips.

After a moment, she pecks Nathan’s cheek. “Love of my life, I’d love to just stay like this, but unfortunately I definitely need to clean up.”

Nathan swoops her up in his arms and carries her to the bathroom. Opting for the shower, Clara sits on the seat inside. As they clean up, she lets the warm water wash over her and contemplates happiness.

After they’re done and she’s back in the bedroom in a clean set of bra and panties, she finally speaks up. “I think you coming into my life made me seek out my happiness in a way I hadn’t before,” she says.

Nathan gets on the bed with Clara. He climbs under the covers and faces her, squeezing her hands. “When I say the feeling is mutual, I mean it with every shred of my being and every part of me.”

“Even the bear part?” Clara teases.

He nods seriously. “Yes. Even that.”

Nathan pulls her into a hug, his warmth surrounding her. If Clara’s heart could glow any more, it would burn through her chest. Contentment settles over her, and she lets exhaustion pull her closer to sleep.

Nathan falls asleep before her, his body relaxing so that his arms loosen. Remaining in the dark and the comfort of his touch, Clara runs her fingers over her hand and touches the warm metal of the engagement ring.

Nathan always says he used to think he was cursed. Lying in the dark, Clara decides he’s far more of a blessing.

Her heart swells.

The End of Book 1

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Dragons of Paragon

A Dragon’s heart

Book 1

Jan Dockter

© 2017

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Aldain Kincaid sat on the couch sulking. He would never admit that is what he was doing, but that is exactly what someone would call it. His friends Cade and Becca were basking in their love for each other, while he was alone, with no one to call his own. He would never admit he was jealous of their relationship but he craved that kind of relationship for himself.

There were many dragon shifters that never found their soul mate. They either married someone other than their soul mate or chose to remain alone the rest of their very very long lives. He fell into the latter category, he wanted all or nothing. His friends noticed that he wasn’t really acting like himself.  By having them watch him every day for the last several months they have been living with him was obviously affecting him. He was glad to have them there. His castle was more than big enough to accommodate them and give everyone their privacy. The only places shared were the Den where the books were kept and the room that housed the satellite television.

Aldain thought of asking them if they wanted their own private den closer to where their bedroom was but he doesn’t want them to think that they are not welcomed in his home and that their company is not enjoyable. He really does enjoy having them there; it was the days like today he was having a pity party for himself wishing that they would snuggle up somewhere else. He knew that today wasn’t a good day for him because his face seemed to be in a perpetual scowl. Becca looked questioningly at him but said nothing. She respected his privacy enough to think if he wanted her to know what was bothering him, he would tell her. He knew it would never dawn on her that he was anything but happy for them. He loved Becca and both she and Cade knew this, but they also knew he could never love her as he would a soul mate and his love for her was more like a family member. There was a time he was willing to try and make a different kind of relationship with Becca work, but that was when Cade was treating her so badly she would cry herself to sleep every night.

Thank God, those days were behind everyone and everything worked out for them. He just wanted what they had and it wasn’t until he was around them long enough that he realized he really was lonely.

He knew he had to get out; he was getting so miserable that he couldn’t even stand himself. He looked over at the couple across from him, snuggled up to each other watching some kind of re-run on television. He quickly stood up from the chair he was in, and while heading for the door yelled, “I am going out for a while. I may be late so don’t hold dinner for me; I will eat while I am gone.” Without waiting for a reply, he shifted into his dragon form and flew away.

Aldain flew for what seemed like hours, then his stomach started to grumble. He seemed to have lost track of time. He was surprised to find that he was starving, he was so deep in thought wondering if he would ever find his soul mate. He flew to an island he saw and decided to see if he could find anything on it dinner worthy. He didn’t see any people on it but he did see wild goats. His mouth watered as he dove down towards them. The goats saw him coming and took off running in all directions, bleating warnings to each other, but a dragon was much faster than a goat. Aldain caught his dinner in his mouth, full of foot long teeth, and landed on the beach as he ate the goat whole.

When a dragon shifter gets extremely hungry, his dragon takes over to the point he is more dragon than human and the only thing on his mind is filling his stomach. If there was a human who knew about dragon shifters and saw anything like that, it would scare them so badly that they wouldn’t care about the human half. They would probably never want to have anything to do with another dragon shifter as long as they lived.

Aldain felt full and his dragon got sleepy so he stayed on the beach basking in the sun and again was thinking of his lack of a soul mate. He fell asleep.

The sounds of bleating woke him up. The sky was dark and the goats, while still a distance from him, were closer to him than was probably wise for them. Then he saw the long lush grass that his very large body was close to and understood why they were taking their chances.  He shook his head to help himself wake up for the long flight back home. When he started moving the goats again started to run in all directions bleating, but Aldain knew he could eat when he got home and wanted to get there before the sun came up. He didn’t want to worry his friends and he wanted to sleep in his own bed.

He spread his wings, ran along the beach and took flight. It was a beautiful thing to see, a dragon in flight; Aldain was beautiful in his dragon form. His red scales were shimmering in any kind of light. His eyes were emerald green in human form, but in dragon form his pupils slit sideways like a cat and turned yellow. He has a set of black, wickedly sharp looking horns bending back from his head going almost halfway down his back. He has a mouth full of foot long teeth. His tail even has three spikes on the end. You could tell just from looking at him that his body was made to be the perfect fighting machine. His human form was just as imposing as his dragon form.  He has shoulder length black hair and bright green eyes. He stands six foot four inches tall, and has wide shoulders and muscular arms. His waist tapers down to reveal a six-pack stomach and long, muscular legs. With every movement, you saw the perfect muscles formations. His physical body also looks like the perfect fighting machine. In either form, he was beautiful to the point of perfection.

He finally made it home in the wee hours of the morning. Everything was quiet; he quietly snuck into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator. He heard a sound behind him that startled him. He quickly turned to find Becca behind him.

Chapter Two

Wearing a robe and slippers, as it was getting colder out at nights, she padded over to him and hugged him. Aldain hugged her back then put her away from him and said, “Well thank you, but what was that for?”

Becca looked up at him with worry in her eyes. “I know something is going on with you. I figured maybe you could use someone to talk to, my shoulder is all yours.”

Aldain lifted a brow, “Well thank you for your kind offer, but I think you are a little confused. It is my shoulder you should be using not the other way around.”

Becca laughed, “Wow does that sound sexist or what? Who made the rules that only women use a shoulder to cry or whine on? Men aren’t machines, they need to talk too.”

Aldain smiled at her, “I will let you in on a secret. When men need to talk; if it isn’t something they would dare talk to a man about; would rather be holding a woman he cared for in his arms as he vented. A shoulder wouldn’t be enough.”

Becca gave him a questioning look, “Seriously Aldain, you know you can talk to me about anything. I love you. You kept me alive during a very dark time. I will always be here for you.”

Aldain would never talk to Becca about what was bothering him, so he offered to talk about something he knew she would be interested in. “How about I tell you the story of the Dragons of Paragon? That is the name of my clan.” Becca immediately took him up on that offer. After he made a mountainous sandwich, filled a party bowl with chips and took a two-liter container of orange soda out of the fridge, they both sat at the table. Becca sat opposite him, her blue eyes big with a look of excitement on her face. Aldain smiled, she loved hearing stories about anything magical or supernatural. Becca was still learning about that world since becoming a vampire herself.

He sat back and started telling her the story of his clan. “Thousands of years ago, when the Gods lived on Olympus…….”

Becca interrupted him, “What! Wait! They actually existed? The Gods of Olympus? Zeus and everyone?”

Aldain sighed, “Yes Becca they existed, and still do as far as we know. No one knows where they have disappeared though; when religious beliefs started changing, they decided to leave Olympus. Since humans were getting to the stage where they didn’t believe in the Gods anymore, they felt they were no longer needed nor wanted by mankind so they left. They just never told anyone where they were going.

Before I begin my story where I left off, maybe you will want to grab a notebook and take notes on anything I say. That way you can let me finish my story without interruption or we will be here forever, and you can ask me questions when I am done. Hmmm?” Becca took the hint and ran and grabbed a notebook and pen and promised Aldain she wouldn’t interrupt anymore and to please continue with his story.

“When the Gods lived on Olympus, the goddess Athena, who represents military strategy and generalship as the goddess of intelligence, fell in love with a mortal man. He was a general in her army who was a well-liked general and a man whose military strategy was unparalleled. His men would follow him anywhere. He, on the other hand, stayed by Athena’s side and made sure they won their wars because he was so in love with her, he wanted to keep her safely by his side. His name was Paragon. Athena kept her love for him a secret from the other Gods for it was forbidden to love a mortal. They could have relationships with mortals, but not a loving one. Mortals were considered beneath the Gods by Zeus. He and other gods used them more like toys but Athena felt in her heart that the only difference between them and the gods were that mortals died and that they had no powers, but the feelings of the heart were the same. Their relationship went on for almost ten years; then the day came when the unthinkable happened.

Paragon was mortally wounded in battle. Athena loved him so much that she just wanted to heal his wounds and keep him with her, but if Zeus was to find out not only would he punish her by taking away her powers, he could also destroy Paragon’s soul. He wouldn’t even exist in Hades which is the place where souls go. She could always visit his soul there, but she just couldn’t stand the thought of his life being totally extinguished. She made a decision. Instead of healing his wounds; she turned him into a dragon and named him Paragon which stood for virtue. He earned that right by always being her protector, even though she was a goddess. She bid the dragon to always help the helpless and be loyal to those he served, and to have a powerful sense of right and wrong. He must never ever harm an innocent, whether it be human or shifter. She also commanded that once a year, Paragon could turn into a human. She looked far and wide to find a woman she felt was worthy of Paragon and begged him to mate with her; he needed to keep his bloodline alive.

He loved Athena so much that he just couldn’t think of mating with any other woman. She then weaved a spell where he fell in love with this woman to the very core of his being. The love he felt for Athena was all but forgotten. She was the first soul mate. You see, Athena loved him enough to be able to let him go. All that mattered to her was that his bloodline be continued. She would share her love of Paragon with his descendants by always watching over them.

It is said from that time forward; every dragon that meets his soul mate will love her with his whole being, protecting her unto death and have no longing for any other woman but her. He would be incomplete without her. All dragon shifters are male; females don’t have the ability to shift. Some dragons go their entire lives never finding their soul mate. Those dragons either will marry just to keep their bloodline going, or never marry and die quicker than they normally would if they had found someone. The majority of us all are honorable men and dragons, but like mortals, we have some that have turned bad. When we find them, we kill them. They are not allowed to mate and spread evil within a clan. We were even knights at the round table; we take what Athena asked of us very seriously. Honor, other than the love of our soul mate is the code we live by, no other is acceptable.

Becca blinked, her tablet was empty. She was so engrossed in the story Aldain was telling her that she didn’t even think to write anything down. She realized what was bothering Aldain but didn’t want him to know she had figured it out. She got up and walked over to Aldain and kissed him on the forehead, thanking him for that wonderful story, then she told him she was going to her room to write down as much as she could before she forgot anything.

When she got back to their room, she told Cade that Aldain was lonely. That is what was bothering their friend. Cade hoped that night that his friend would be as lucky as him and find his soul mate, he deserved it. Thinking of mates, Cade remembered he was a lucky man that has one and for several hours he forgot about Aldain needing one and concentrated on his own mate.

Chapter Three

Cade and Becca tried to keep Aldain’s mind occupied by including him in some of the things they did. They went on late night picnics and hikes exploring caves near the surrounding area. Aldain went with them on most of their jaunts but he passed at the cave exploring. There wasn’t a cave in Scotland that he hadn’t explored. While they were cave exploring, Aldain was seriously considering taking a vacation, maybe the south pacific. He just wanted to get away for a while.

Becca decided she wanted to make something she found online for dinner. Cade and Aldain went into the den to watch a show as she cooked. She hated having anyone in the kitchen when she was preparing a meal. This was fine with the men; they would rather do something else. Cooking wasn’t at the top of their list as the most enjoyable thing to do.

As they were talking about the day during dinner the phone rang and Becca got up to answer it. They heard her greet her mother, and then they heard her voice raise several octaves. “What! Oh, my god is she o.k.?” The silence was grating on both men’s nerves. They decided to join Becca in the study.

They both walked in to see that Becca had a death grip on the phone and tears were falling down her cheeks. Cade walked over to her and put his arms around her waist. He wanted her to know that whatever was happening he was there for her. Becca then said, “Mom I will be on the next flight out. Tori will be alright. I promise.” Becca hung up and when she turned around her eyes were red and her fangs were out in full force.

Cade holding her close asked. “What happened Bec? What is wrong with Tori?”

Becca growled, “That bastard of a boyfriend of hers beat her so bad she is in the hospital. Mom said she is going to be alright, but Tori is pressing charges and Tom, her now ex -boyfriend has sworn he is going to get even with her. The police said he will probably be able to post bail, even though it is probably going to be a stiff one. His parents come from money.”

Aldain growled; he has never understood how a ‘man’ could ever hit a woman. In his mind, there wasn’t even a name low enough to describe such scum. He looked at Becca, “Let me go!”

Becca looked at him like he grew another head. “What? Why? You don’t even know her. She has never met you and after what happened I don’t even know if she would go anywhere with a strange man. I think it’s best if I go alone.” Becca turned to go upstairs to pack.

Aldain stopped her to plead his case. “Listen Becca. Why don’t you let me go? While you are a vampire and able to take care of yourself her ex doesn’t know this. If he sees just the two of you; he may decide to do something stupid and then you would end up giving yourself away when you protect you and your sister. Look at me, men like him never mess with men my size. They prey on the weaker person, someone whom they know they can beat. Like he did with your sister. I can go get her and stay there a few days so she can get comfortable around me, then I will bring her back here. It’s a win win situation for everyone.” Becca really wanted to see her sister, and what Aldain said made sense. She knew he would keep her sister safe. He could fly as a dragon at night and she knew he would keep her sister safe. Flying as a dragon would save him the worry of taking night flights. In the day, he could take a regular plane.

Becca picked up the phone to call her mother; she told her of the change of plans. She assured her mother that Tori couldn’t be in better hands than Aldains’. She also pointed out that Tom would never go after Tori while a bigger man than him was around. The idea that Tori would be safe seemed to placate her mother. Her father was wanting to beat the hell out of Tom and it took her mother everything she had to keep him from taking a bat to Toms head and beating him half to death.  Becca was sure he could do it too, but he wasn’t a young man anymore. Tom wouldn’t think twice about cheap shotting him. Becca didn’t want her dad hurt next.

Aldain said he would arrive the next morning; he planned on flying all night. Her family lived in Boston so he could just go under the radar while it was still dark and shift back before anyone would see him. Becca’s mother told her Tori would still be in the hospital when Aldain got there so he should go there when he got into town. The doctors wanted to keep her for at least a couple of days but Tori was fighting that idea tooth and nail. She hated hospitals and insisted she was fine, the doctors begged to differ. To calm her down they knocked her out with a sedative. She wasn’t going to like that when she woke up.

Becca stopped Aldain from leaving right away. “Maybe you should go and put a few clothes in a bag. You are going to be there at least a day or two. You did say you were going to give Tori a chance to feel comfortable around you before you brought her here.” Aldain agreed and shoved some clothes in a bag. He hugged Becca telling her he would protect her sister with his life. If it would have come from any other man, Becca would have rolled her eyes. Coming from Aldain, she knew he meant it.

Aldain took off from the back of his castle, his mind a chaos of thoughts. This was the get-away he so badly needed, but he wasn’t planning on company. When he heard that Becca’s sister was hurt, he felt a pain deep down in his heart. He figured it was because he loved Becca like a sister and her family became his family. He always protected his family, this wasn’t going to be any different. He had never met Becca’s family but he would make sure and let them know he considered them family as much as he considered Becca family.

Chapter Four

The flight to the United States was uneventful. He was able to stay out of sight of any planes in the air and he was careful to stay below their radar. He landed just as the sun was coming up; he found a car rental and rented a car. He made a short stop at a truck stop on the way and took a quick shower and changed his clothes. He punched in the directions to the hospital in the car’s GPS and was there in no time.

He knew which floor she was on and which room she was in because he got all that information from Becca before he left. Becca’s mom was standing outside the room. As he walked towards her, her face lit up. “You must be Aldain. My name is Amanda; I’m Becca and   Tori’s mother. Thank you so much for coming.” Tears started to fill her eyes. Aldain’s heart went out to her.

He gave her a quick hug. “It’s going to be fine Mrs. Robinson I promise. I won’t let that bastard near your daughter.”

Amanda sniffed, “Please call me Amanda and thank you for coming. It is good of you to come all this way to keep my daughter safe and keep her out of harm’s way. Tom is crazy and I have no doubt he meant what he said when he said he would get back at Tori. I never liked him but we tolerated him for her sake. I don’t know what she ever saw in him.”

As Amanda was telling Aldain what happened a man walked up to them. Aldain could tell right away it had to be the girl’s father. He was the exact opposite of Amanda. Amanda’s hair was brown but her eyes were the same color as Becca’s, she was very petite in build. Her husband had salt and pepper hair, was about six feet tall and stocky build. His shoulders were wide and he seemed to be in decent shape for a man in his fifties. His eyes were what some would consider gun metal blue.

Amanda introduced Aldain to her husband Andrew and he held out his hand, “I am pleased to finally meet you Mr. Kincaid. Becca talks so much about you I feel I know you already.”

Aldain laughed. “Don’t believe everything she tells you and please not Mr., just Aldain.”

When the nurse came out of Tori’s room the three of them walked in. What Aldain saw made him stop short, there in the bed was a tiny young woman. Both of her eyes were black, she had some cracked ribs and you could see hand prints across her throat. Her lips were swollen as well as one side of her face. That bastard really did a number on her. Her eyes were so swollen and bruised she could barely see out of them.

Amanda brought Aldain closer to Tori in order for her to meet him. Tori might have looked like hell but she was in total control of her faculties. “So, this is the man that is going to take me off to places unknown? I must say I didn’t expect you to be so uh big. Thanks for coming all this way to get me. The farther I get from that asshole, the safer I will feel. Pardon my language.” She held out her hand to shake his. He gently shook her hand and he noticed she had a strong hand shake for a tiny woman.

Aldain smiled, “I promise you Tori. No matter where we are that ‘asshole’ as you call him won’t get near you. You are perfectly safe with me. I do plan on staying a few days so you and your parents can get to know me better. After all, if you were my daughter I wouldn’t just hand you off to some man you didn’t know.” Tori got a wicked smile on her face. Aldain didn’t know what was going through her mind but when he got the chance he was going to ask her. He was extremely curious to know what caused that smile.

Just as Aldain was about to say something the doctor walked in. “Well how are you feeling today Miss Robinson?” he said in a cheery voice.

Tori perked up, “I feel well enough to go home doc,” she said just as cheerily.

The doctor frowned, “I would like to keep you at least one more day in order to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

Tori frowned. “Mom would you hand me a mirror please?”

Her mother wrung her hands, “Tori honey I don’t think you need to worry about being presentable to anyone right now. Maybe later hmm?”

Tori looked her mother straight in the eyes. “Well if you won’t give me a mirror I will just get up and get one myself. How bad can it be?” Everyone else in the room just looked at each other. Amanda sighed, she rummaged in her purse and handed Tori a mirror. Tori looked at herself and said, “Holy Shit! I look like hell. Trust me doctor it looks worse than it feels. My face might look like a side show attraction but I feel fine. Seriously; if you try to keep me here against my will, I will just leave when no one is watching. Even my body guard over there won’t be able to stop me.” As she looked towards Aldain.

Aldain raised his brows at that remark but held his tongue. Tori was a little spitfire and he couldn’t help but enjoy her little outbursts. He looked at the doctor to see what his next plan would be. Would he dig in his heels or cave? Tori’s face looked like a storm cloud. Aldain believed she would do exactly as she said.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I will let you go home against my better judgement but you have to promise me to not do anything strenuous for the next couple of days.”

‘Cave’ thought Aldain to himself. He couldn’t help but smile that Tori got her way. Tori had a winning smirk on her face too. She shooed Aldain and her dad out of the room so she could get dressed.

While they were out in the hall waiting, her father ran his fingers through his hair. “Tori is pretty strong willed. She is very athletic and has always been sort of the tomboy of the girls. I have to warn you, she is a handful she might be more than you can handle.” Aldain smiled and told him not to worry everything would be fine as he secretly thought to himself. ‘I am looking forward to it’.

As Tori and her mother walked out of her room, Aldain’s breath came out in a whoosh. Tori is five foot nothing with a stocky build, her legs are short but muscular as are her arms. You could tell she is athletic, as her legs are very shapely.  Her hair is a light brown with streaks of blonde in it and you could tell it was her natural hair color. Her shoulders are broad and her stomach is flat. Her waist is small, her hips flare and are nicely rounded. Aldain’s hands itched to feel those hips in his hands, she is the sexiest woman he has ever seen! He felt his blood start to flow south and his dragon got excited. He had no idea what was happening but he wanted to get away from there before he embarrassed himself.

He quickly turned away and told Tori and her parents he would meet them at their house. Once he was out of their sight he almost ran to his car. He sat there with his hands shaking. His breathing ragged, and his dragon in an agitated state. ‘What the hell?’ He has never felt this way. He laid his head on the steering wheel until he could get his body and his dragon under control. After several minutes, he started the car and headed for the Robinson house. It was a long drive.

When Aldain arrived at the house, the Robinsons were already there. Tori was sitting in a recliner while her mother hovered over her. “Mom please quit. I am fine. If you really want to do something for me, I would love a veggie tray with Ranch dressing. That stuff that they call food in the hospital could kill a person.”

Amanda laughed, “One veggie tray coming up honey. It will just take me a few minutes.” She went to the kitchen, happy to be able to do something for her daughter.

Aldain smiled, he guessed someone who was into athletics like Tori would eat healthier than the average person.

“So Aldain how was your flight here?” Tori asked “I am sort of excited to go to Scotland. Becca tells me you live in an actual castle.”

He smiled as he said, “I do. It has been in my family for several hundred generations. I look forward to showing you around, the castle and Scotland. I love the country.”

Tori smiled, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Aldain bowed his head and said “Of course.”

“Well when you wear your kilts, do you wear underwear or are you au natural? It is something I have always wondered,” she asked.

Aldain laughed. “It depends, some men do and some don’t. Personally, I prefer the natural feeling.”

“Really? Do you wear yours often?” she asked.

He smiled, “I wear mine only for special occasions. Marriages within the clan, some holidays but not all the time. When we get to Scotland, if you would like, I will bring you to a special occasion where a clan will be wearing their Kilts. We Scots are always looking for something to celebrate.” Tori loved that idea.

Aldain asked her what kind of sports she enjoyed and the evening passed by with them getting to know each other. She told him of her love of running and rowing. He told her how he loved exploring new caves and collecting old things. He noticed how she really enjoyed the veggie tray her mother had fixed her. He would have to find a place near the castle where he could plant a variety of vegetables for her to eat. There were some prime places nearby that were perfect for planting.

As the evening got later, Tori started to yawn. Her eyelids got heavy. Even though she hadn’t done anything physical the beating her body had taken was taking a toll on her. She excused herself and trotted off to bed. Aldain stared at that luscious round backside of hers as she walked out of sight. It wasn’t until he heard Andrew Robinson clear his throat he realized he had been caught staring. Aldain had the grace to blush, he was caught red handed and there was no use trying to lie about it.

“I am not going to lie Andrew; Tori is one sexy woman. Just because you caught me enjoying some of her physical attributes doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted. I will do everything within my power to keep her safe, of that you have my word. That doesn’t mean I can stop being a man and not enjoy watching a beautiful woman. I hope you take no offense.”

A wide grin spread across Andrews face. “See that’s what I like about you. You get caught doing something and instead of trying to deny it or make up a totally ridiculous story, you admit it. You apologize for possibly having offended me but don’t apologize for enjoying my daughters ‘physical attributes’ as you put it.” He slapped Aldain on the back. “I know she is going to be in good hands with you” Aldain smiled and thought ‘If only.’

The Robinsons put Aldain in their guest bedroom. He had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours. Every time he closed his eyes he saw a tiny woman with a luscious backside. He couldn’t stop thinking of Tori. His dragon wasn’t helping matters much either. He kept pacing saying, “Ours, ours” in a chant that was driving him crazy. He tried soothing his dragon; he told him that she isn’t theirs. She was someone under their protection and they had to behave; his dragon loudly disagreed. Aldain finally had to threaten him with keeping him grounded for a substantial length of time which caused him to huff. He finally threw himself down, curled up in a ball, and went to sleep.

While Aldain was thinking of his dragon’s reaction he heard an odd sound coming from Tori’s room. He got up to see what it was and as he stood outside her door, he realized it was her cell phone. He had excellent hearing being a dragon shifter. He could tell she was talking in hushed tones, trying not to wake anyone else in the household.

His body went into full alert when he heard her say,” Tom you bastard. When did you get out of jail?” There was a pause of silence before he heard her say, “Why would I want to meet you? We don’t have anything to talk about. You beat the crap out of me then ran like the sniveling coward you are. You have a lot of nerve calling me here. What do you mean you have Carrie with you? Why do you have my best friend with you? What have you done to her? I swear to god if you lay one hand on her I will kill you.” There was another short pause of silence. 

“Alright I will meet with you, but when I leave Carrie is coming with me. Is that understood?” He heard Tori call Tom a very derogatory name and could hear her getting dressed. Aldain had a feeling she was going to try and sneak out of the house. She wouldn’t chance going down the stairs. So, knowing her and her penchant for athletics he figured she would shortly be climbing down the tree in front of her window.

Aldain went to his room and quickly dressed. There was no way he was going to let her meet the sick bastard who beat her. He quietly slipped outside and waited at the bottom of the tree. It wasn’t long before he saw a pair of legs going out the window then the rest of her body followed. He watched her quietly climb down the tree. When she reached the bottom, he said in a non chalant voice. “Going somewhere are we?”

Tori let out a squeak of fright. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?”

Aldain raised a brow, “I could be asking the same thing of you. Where do you think you are going at such an ungodly hour?” He could see the wheels turning in her head.

She was wondering if she should lie or tell him the truth. She decided she was already caught so she might as well tell him the truth.” I got a call from my ex and he wants to talk to me. I told him I had nothing I want to say to him but he has my best friend Carrie with him. He talked her into getting in his car while he told her how sorry he was for what he did to me; he told her how much he loved me and wanted another chance. She has always been way to soft hearted for her own good. She told him he needed to go his own way and leave me alone, but she wasn’t mean about it. He said he really needed a friend to talk to, Carrie was quick to point out that she was my friend not his. He actually cried in front of her. He knew what a tender heart she has and that bastard cried.”

“She agreed to go with him to his house so they could talk, right now she is watching a movie at his place. She has no idea that he is holding her as ransom until I agree to meet him. I can’t let him hurt her; I have to go get her. Even if it means seeing that slime who calls himself a man! I just can’t leave her there.”

She abruptly turned to get in her car, before she took more than two steps Aldain grabbed her by the shirt and held her up. “What the hell!” she sputtered. “Put me down” she said as she started swinging at him. He held her far enough away to where her short arms were swinging at air.

“What do you think you can do to him Tori? He has already beat you bad enough to hospitalize you. If he decided to hurt you again I doubt you will be able to stop him. You’re five foot nothing. I can’t let you go. I am here to protect you, just in case you have forgotten.”

The entire time he was talking, Tori was trying to hit him with everything she had, while swearing like a truck driver. She finally tired herself out and he felt it was safe to put her down. Before he could stop her, she kicked him hard in the shin and tried to take off running.

“Why you little midget” he said as he quickly grabbed her shirt again.

She turned to look at him. Her face looking thunderous. “What did you just call me?”

He said in his baritone voice, “You heard me. You barely come to my waist. You’re not much bigger than a midget. If you will calm down and listen to what I have to say. We can go get your friend. I have a better plan.”

This got Tories attention, “I am all ears Dain my man what’s your plan?”

Aldain blinked, “What did you call me?”

Tori smiled, “Well since we are close enough to give each other nick names. That’s yours. So, what’s your plan? I don’t have all night.”

Aldain sighed, she wasn’t going to make this easy. “You drive to his house. I will follow you from a distance. He will never see me. When you get into his house I will find a way inside. Does he have some doors you could make sure are unlocked?”

Tori smiled. “Actually, he does, and he rarely locks them. They are in the back of his house. You could sneak in there.” Aldain thought this was perfect. He could stay hidden in the house to make sure Tori and her friend remained safe. When she left with her friend he would go out the way he came.

Chapter Five

Aldain followed close enough to keep Tori in his sights but far enough away so it didn’t look like she was being followed. He watched her pull into a driveway that had a huge house on the side, you could tell her ex came from money. When she got out of the car, he silently closed his door and went around the back of the house. He checked to make sure no one was nearby and quietly slipped inside. He found a large pantry to the side of the refrigerator and noiselessly entered it. He could tell Tom and Carrie were in the den watching television; so far, she seemed safe. He heard Tori ring the doorbell and Tom told Carrie to stay and watch the show. He said he had some business to attend to but would be back shortly. Aldain found it odd that he didn’t tell her it was Tori at the door. This gave him a bad feeling.

Tom opened the door and grabbed Tori by her arm and quickly shut the door after pulling her inside. He told her to make sure and keep her voice down, he didn’t want Carrie or his parents to hear her. Aldain knew this was a lie since his parents weren’t even there. He had checked to see if there were any other vehicles in the garage as he was walking around the back and the garage was empty. He knew Tom was alone.

Tom pulled Tori to the stairs that went down to the basement. Tori kept trying to pull her arm away but Tom had a death grip on it. Tori told him he was holding onto her too tightly, and that he was hurting her. He loosened his grip as they both went downstairs into a huge basement. It was set up like a theatre with huge television sitting in the middle of the room. A horseshoe shaped couch surrounded it.

Just as Tori opened her mouth, Tom grabbed her and threw her on the couch. His body followed hers down so he landed on top of her. He quickly put his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. “You listen to me, you deceitful little bitch. If you don’t drop those charges against me not only will I come after you but I will get your parents and your best friend as well. You know I have the money to hire someone to take care of all of you and I will pay whatever it takes.” Tories eyes widened at his threat. She knew that he meant what he said.

He released his hand from over her mouth slowly to make sure she wasn’t going to scream. She hissed at him, “You slug. How about I go to the police and let them know you just threatened my life and the life of my family and friend. They can add that to the list of assaults you bastard.”  She drew her arm back and punched him square in the nose. She felt it crunch as blood started pouring out of it.

“You fucking bitch!” he yelled. He put his hands around her neck and started squeezing. Tori was pulling at his arms as hard as she could, trying to get his hands loose when she started to lose consciousness. She could hear her heart beating in her head. Suddenly his hands were gone and she started gulping in huge breaths of air.

She looked up and saw Aldain holding Tom by the throat with his feet in the air. She could have sworn she heard a growl come from Aldain but that probably didn’t happen. Her hearing wasn’t totally back yet so she must be hearing things.

While Aldain was holding Tom in the air his mouth was close to his ear. “You listen to me you pathetic excuse for a man. If you ever, and I mean ever, bother Tori, her family or her friends. I will end your life. MYSELF! And just so we are very clear; not only do I have more money than your parents.  but I also have the means you mentioned…. In fucking spades… You piece of shit. Do you understand? Blink your eyes once for yes.” Tom was almost purple from lack of air but he quickly blinked his eyes. Before he threw Tom into the wall, Tori had her cell phone out and took a quick picture. Aldain wasn’t sure why and didn’t care. He threw Tom into the wall where he fell into a heap on the floor.

Tori walked over to Tom as he was gasping for air. She showed him the picture she took. It showed Tom being held in the air by his throat and showed he had wet his pants. Aldain heard Tori say, “If you don’t want this picture plastered all over the internet you would be wise to listen to my big friend here. Your reputation for being big and bad would be ruined. You pig!”

It took Aldain everything he had to keep his dragon at bay, he wanted to kill Tom. He hurriedly grabbed Tori away from Tom as they went upstairs to collect her friend. Carrie was surprised to see Tori as she explained to her what had happened. Carrie apologized profusely for putting her in danger and thinking that Tom thought of her as a friend, acting like he needed someone to talk to. He made Carrie think that he was going to apologize to Tori. She was glad Tori broke his nose. Aldain hung behind the girls as they walked to Tori’s car. Carrie finally realized he was behind them.

She stopped short. “Tori, who is your tall dark and handsome friend here?”

Aldain smiled at her. “My name is Aldain Kincaid. I know your name is Carrie. It is my pleasure to meet you.” He said as he took Carries hand to his lips kissed it.

“My oh my… A gentleman with old fashioned manners. That’s refreshing. You must be the friend that Tori mentioned was coming from Scotland. I noticed that slight accent.” Tori felt a rush of jealousy. She shouldn’t have and didn’t understand why she did. Carrie was her best friend and she had no claim to Aldain.

She shook it off. “Yep this is him. My sister and husband live with Dain in his Scottish castle. He is my knight in shining armor. He is very handy to have around.”

Tori had no idea just how much of a knight in shining armor he really was. He just raised his brow at her shortening his name again. He was going to have to get used to it. He opened the car door for Cassie then went around and did the same for Tori. He told her he would follow her to Cassie’s, then home. Neither one of them thought it was a good idea to take Cassie to Tori’s house. Her parents were sure to ask questions and they didn’t need to know about tonight.

Aldain’s body was still tense as he followed Tori home. When he saw Tom choking the life out of her, his first instinct was to shift and tear his throat out. His dragon roared and demanded he save their mate.

Aldain was startled as he realized what his dragon had said; Tori was his soul mate. The realization made him ecstatic; he had found his mate! He wasn’t going to be alone anymore, there was someone to love. Now all he had to do was slowly romance her until she loved him back. A million thoughts were going through his head at this new development.

Aldain was very sure of himself with the opposite sex. Tori, however, wasn’t like any other woman he had ever met. She is very independent and outspoken. She has a very dominant personality and he would have to tame it, he also has a very dominant personality. He was going to have to be very careful how he woos her. He was definitely out of his element with her. One thing he’s sure of is there isn’t going to be a dull moment with her at his side.

Chapter Six

The time Aldain spent with Tori and her family flew by.  Her parents were great people and he informed them before he left that as far as he was concerned they were as much a family to him as his blood family. He was there for them if they ever needed anything.

There were some problems with Tori having nightmares at night. Aldain would find himself running into her room because Tori would be screaming because she kept reliving the beating Tom was giving her. She would be thrashing about and you could tell she was trying to fight him off. Aldain would hold her hands to keep her from hurting herself as he whispered in her ear, “Wake up Tori. You are safe. I am here, your parents are here. You are home again. Shhh.” As she started to comprehend his words she would stop flailing her arms and relax. She always woke up from her nightmares drenched in sweat. The last thing to leave was the shaking of her body. Those nightmares seemed so real to her.

Then she would break down and sob. She couldn’t understand why Tom treated her like he did. Was it something about her that made him want to hurt her? What did she do wrong that would make a person want to hurt her so badly?  She hoped her nightmares would stop, the constant reminder of that beating was almost more than she could take. She was always told how emotionally strong she is so there was no way she was going to talk to her parents about it.  Maybe when she got to Scotland and talked to Becca it would help get rid of her nightmares. Until then she just prayed every night it would be nightmare free.

When Aldain and Tori got to the airport her mother’s eyes welled up with tears as she gave Tori a hug and kiss. Then she did the same to Aldain. A small sob escaped her lips and Tori rolled her eyes, her mother was so dramatic.

Andrew Robinson cleared his throat as he hugged his daughter good-bye and told her to take care of herself. When he shook Aldains hand he told him to make sure and let them know when they arrived safely. He knew Aldain would take good care of his daughter. Aldain thanked them for their hospitality again. Their flight was called and they went to wait in line with everyone else.

The flight was going to be a long one. They were in the air for several hours and Tori had fallen asleep as soon as they took off. When she woke up Aldain looked at her with a critical eye. “What, do I have something on my face?” she said as she raised her eyebrows.

He shook his head and continued to look at her a few more minutes. “I just want to make sure your face doesn’t look as bad as it did. Becca would have killed Tom without hesitation if she had seen how badly you were beaten. I don’t want to down play what happened. But I am glad you aren’t wearing the proof of how bad it really was. I don’t think anyone would be able to stop your sister if she saw that.

“Yeah probably not. I am the tomboy of the family but when Becca loses it, it even scares me. She is a force of nature to be reckoned with when she gets mad. So when she does, it is like Mt. St. Helen’s erupting,” Tori said.

“I have never actually seen her mad so I will just take your word for it. To me she is always sweet and even tempered,” Aldain stated.

Tori snorted, “Boy does she have you fooled. Once when we were teenagers, we went swimming and some boy thought it would be funny to pull her bikini bottoms down. She hit that kid so hard she broke his jaw and he had to suck out of a straw for six weeks.” Aldain was shocked because he just couldn’t see Becca doing that. It was good to know though so he filed that story away in his memory. It seems both Robinson girls could be hell on wheels.

They finally arrived in Edinburgh and Aldain had a car waiting for them. Becca wanted to meet them at the airport but Aldain talked her out of it. He said it wouldn’t take them long to get to the castle and since she was always wanting to try new dishes she could stay there and surprise her sister with her new culinary skills.

The sun was just starting to set over the horizon. The sky was beautiful. The hues of pinks and blues seemed so much brighter in Scotland. Aldain finally pulled into the castle driveway and Tori’s mouth dropped in awe. It was huge and still had that medieval look to it. Before she had a chance to remark on it Becca came running out. She opened the door and literally pulled Tori out of the car hugging he so tight she could barely breathe.

Tori told her she missed her too but Becca was beginning to squeeze the life out of her. Becca pulled away from her and with her hands on her shoulders carefully inspected her face and neck. Her eyes weren’t swollen shut but they were both still black with bruises. They were beginning the process of turning yellow. Her lips were back to their normal size. You could still see some slight bruising around her neck. Tori stood there patiently, waiting for her sister to reassure herself that she was fine.

Aldain and Cade unloaded the car and brought their luggage inside. Cade made the remark that the luggage seemed heavy. Aldain had a half smile as he said, “Wait until you see the trunk that will be arriving if you think these are heavy. I had to stop her from adding the kitchen sink. I can tell you one thing. This woman has no shortage of clothes or shoes. She could open her own store with them.”

Becca kept her arm around Tori’s shoulders as they walked into the castle. She wanted to show her around when she got the chance but the first thing she did was take her to her room. Tori walked in and her mouth dropped, her room was huge. It had a bedroom that had a huge king bed in it with an ensuite bathroom had one of those garden tubs, the kind that you can sink into like a small pool. She couldn’t wait to fill it and just soak. The shower was separate and there was another room attached that could be considered a sitting room. An outside balcony encompassed the bedroom and sitting room. The balcony overlooked a loch. It was a gorgeous sight.

“Wow this is beautiful Becca. My ‘room’ is bigger than the entire downstairs of home,” said Tori.

Becca smiled, “Do you like it? Because if you don’t we can find you one that you do like.”

Tori raised her brow, “Seriously, you have bigger rooms than this? I don’t even need one this big but I am not complaining. This one will do just fine.”

Before Becca left Tori to unpack, she told her she fixed a special dinner for her. Tori stared at Becca, with a look of surprise and admiration on her face. “Since when do you cook?” Becca smiled and told her she would be surprised at all the different things she was learning since living in Scotland. She didn’t bother to mention that since she left home she had been turned into a vampire and was learning of all the different mythological creatures that existed. She knew eventually she would have to tell Tori, but right now wasn’t the time.

Tori unpacked her things. She left plenty of room to spare for when her trunk got there. She filled the garden tub with hot water. She noticed the bathroom was well stocked with various kinds of shampoos and soaps and decided she was going to try a soap made from heather. She put it to her nose and liked the fragrance, it had a soft flowery smell with an earthy and herb quality to it. Heather surrounded the area and you could smell it everywhere you went.

Tori was so engrossed soaking in the tub that time slipped away from her. Before she knew it, Becca was at her door telling her dinner was ready. She reluctantly got out of the tub, dried off and put on some clean clothes before going downstairs.

As she headed downstairs the smells coming from the kitchen were savory. Tori couldn’t believe her sister was the one that cooked the food. Her stomach grumbled at the smell. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until now.

Tori sat down to a feast of food. There was a roast of pork, roasted pheasant, potatoes, stuffing with various kinds of vegetables and breads. Tori looked at all this food. “My god Becca. You have fixed enough to feed an army. I can’t wait to try all of it.”

Becca beamed, “Trust me on this Tori; these Scotsmen have bottomless pits for stomachs. I wouldn’t be surprised if anything is left when dinner is finished.” Tori doubted that, but if there were leftovers she was sure they wouldn’t be there long.

As they all sat eating Aldain asked Tori if she was interested in him taking her to a gathering of a well-known clan in a few days. He was invited to a celebration of the upcoming wedding of one of the main clan members.

Tori squealed in delight, “I would love that.” He laughed.

She said, “I just need to go buy something to wear.”

Aldain almost choked on his food. “Seriously Tori? You brought an entire clothing store with you. Are you saying with all those clothes, there is nothing you could wear?”

Tori aimed a deadly stare at him that shut him up. “For your information, Dain Kincaid. I have nothing Scottish to wear. I want to find something from here that matches the occasion. If it is money you are worried about I do have my own. If it is a bother to you, trust me, I can drive any kind of car.” With that she threw her napkin down and stormed outside.

Cade and Becca said at the same time. “Dain?”

As he sat there thinking he could have handled that better. “Well I called her a midget. That was a nickname I picked for her, she felt it was only fair she have one for me. Dain, is it.”

Becca pursed her lips. “Is there anything else we need to know? Any more surprises?”

Aldain shook his head no. “That is about as exciting as it got. She didn’t like me calling her a midget sooo.”

Becca looked at him questioningly, “Um why would you call her something like that?”

Aldain had to think quickly. He didn’t want to lie but he didn’t want Becca to know what really happened. “Well let’s just say she wanted to go somewhere I disagreed with and she didn’t take it well.”

Becca shook her head. “Yep sounds like Tori. She doesn’t like being told no.”

Aldain couldn’t agree with her more. He excused himself while he said he wanted to go outside and apologize to her. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he said to set her off but he would apologize anyway.

When Tori got outside she found herself heading towards the loch. She didn’t run but she did power walk. She wanted to put as much distance from that insufferable man as fast as possible. God, he acted like her wardrobe should last her the rest of her natural life. She knew she had more clothes than most, but she loved to buy things she liked. Some she had hadn’t been worn yet, but she was sure an occasion would come up where she would be able to wear them.

While she stewed, and called him some extremely unflattering names under her breath, she arrived at the loch sooner than expected. She found a tree close by and sat under it. The night sky was beautiful and the air smelled of heather and was so much cleaner than in Boston. The sound of waves lapping against the shore soothed her. She was enjoying the solitude when she heard footsteps coming her way. She scowled as Aldain walked slowly towards her. “I am sorry Tori. Please forgive me. If you want to buy new clothes I will take you, and I will pay for them, money isn’t an issue. I will buy you whatever you want; I didn’t mean to sound miserly. I am a man, who until recently has lived alone. I don’t understand some things important to a woman, but with you and your sister here I am sure I will learn. Please give me a chance to make it up to you.”

Tori’s heart softened at the stricken look on his face. “Well I guess I can understand that. Okay, apology accepted and so is your offer to take me into town and buy me anything I want,” she held out her hand to shake on it.

Aldain had a different idea. He knelt next to her and lowered his lips to hers. She stiffened slightly, but as he deepened the kiss her body started to relax. She put her arms around his neck and pushed her body closer to his; she heard a moan escape his lips. Heat coursed through him as he felt her body next to his. She felt so small as he put his hands on her hips. He lifted her onto his lap with his erection rubbing against her pussy. There was no way she could mistake him wanting her. He wanted her to know what she did to him. Tori wiggled around on his lap causing another moan to escape him.

They both lay down on the ground. There was no blanket but the grass was thick and lush so none was needed. As Aldain was attacking Tori’s tongue with his own, he slowly started taking off her halter top. Tori responded in kind. She started unbuttoning his shirt at the same time. She has never felt this way before; she felt a fire in her body she never experienced before. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like it might beat out of her chest.

Flinging her top to the ground Aldain moved his lips to her breasts. She gasped as she felt his mouth cover her nipple. He lathed it with his tongue, sucking gently as his other hand was working its way down her pants. They were sweats so all she had to do was raise her hips as he slid them down and off. When she got his shirt off, she ran her hands over his chest. Solid muscle met her hands; she grabbed his nipple and gently squeezed it. She heard him suck in his breath as she sucked it into her mouth. She ran her tongue over it then gently blew on it; she watched it harden immediately.

She kissed his chest from the front then to his sides and back. Her hands were busy getting his pants off as she gasped at the size of his erection. It was huge! Thick, long and iron hard. She grabbed it through his underwear, squeezing it hard as he got off the last of her clothes. His hands were moving down to her womanhood. He ran a finger through it; he could feel the moistness coating his finger.

He stopped and looked at her. Tori could barely speak. “Why did you stop?”

Aldain looked intently into her eyes. “Are you sure about this Tori? Because if not I can stop now, but once I start again I won’t have the control to stop myself. I want you more than you could possibly know but I need to know you want this too. I don’t want there to be any regrets if we do this.”

Tori looked at him with desire in her eyes. “I have never been as sure of anything in my life. I want you, I want to feel you inside of me. Please Dain, make love to me!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He lowered his head between her legs. His tongue found that little nub that he knew could bring her to the greatest of heights. She was holding hold his hair, pushing his head closer to her sweetness. His tongue was working magic! Her body felt like a tightly coiled spring. 

The heat started to spread throughout her body. Aldain put a finger in her moist channel and started to move it around until he found her secret spot. He worked it like a fine instrument. Before she knew it her body started to shake and convulse. She arched her back and screamed his name as she kept pulling his hair. Aldain quickly covered her mouth as her body was still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm. She sighed with contentment.

Aldain smiled and said, “Oh no, we are far from being done. He put his body over hers. She felt his manhood rubbing against her. He put it right over her opening and they both moaned as he slowly entered her. He was spreading her walls to become accustomed to his girth. He pushed steadily, slowly until he completely filled her.

Tori had never felt so full. Aldain slowly started to move back and forth, the wetness from her filled pussy coating him. He wanted to take it slow the first time with her but his dragon instinct kicked in. His dragon was having none of it. He grabbed her hips as he started to speed up and rammed his steel rod into her. With each thrust he pulled her hips towards him burying himself deep inside of her. Tory moaned as she felt him filling her, she could feel him touch deep inside her womb.

Both of them were gasping for air. Their bodies were making slapping sounds against each other every time Aldain filled her. He finally stiffened and with a moan, Tori felt his hot seed fill her. The feeling caused her to orgasm with each stream his body emitted. Her body arched as she felt him spilling his essence deep within her womb.

  He was spent, Aldain felt like he had just run a marathon. He came as close to what he thought heaven was like as he had ever been. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her gently. He could feel her heart beating as hard and fast as his own. What he just experienced with Tori was something he had never experienced in all his long years with any woman. The love he felt for her poured out of him. She was his and his alone; she was made just for him. His soul connected with hers as they intertwined together during their shared orgasm. Whether Tori knew it or not, Aldain would do whatever it took to make her fall in love with him. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

After Tori could find her voice, she looked at Aldain and said. “Oh, My God! I have never experienced anything like that in my life. What was that? How could we be so intense after knowing each other for such a brief period of time? I actually feel like I have known you all my life.”

Aldain knew what they experienced; it was the rendezvous of two soul mates coming together. Their souls intertwining with each other. The delight of their souls reuniting after such a long time apart. He wanted to tell Tori all this but felt it was too soon. She may not understand right now and he had so much more to show her, so much more he wanted her to learn. But he wanted her to learn it at a pace that would benefit her and the growth of their relationship.

As he was holding her, he kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know lass but let’s just accept it for what it is and worry about the whys later.”

Tori looked at him with a slightly confused look to her face. “But that is just it Dain. I can’t accept it for what it is because I don’t understand what ‘it’ is.”

Aldain smiled, “How about this then, it was beautiful, it was intense and something I have never experienced before. It was and is something special that neither one of us has felt before. So, let’s work on seeing where the rest of this goes? What do you say? I would love nothing more?”

Tori sighed and smiled. He had a point. She was determined to find out what it was they had. She knew it went way beyond lust. She knew she felt something for him and she could tell he felt something for her too. They both stayed under the tree, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Each deep in their own thoughts, watching the stars twinkle in the dark night sky.

Tori turned towards him. “How is it that you live in a castle? You said it has been in your family for a long time.” Aldain told her as much as he could without letting her know he was from a dragon shifter clan.

Aldain inherited the castle when his father died. When his father died, his mother couldn’t stand to keep being reminded of the life she spent with him there. The memories were too painful for her. She insisted on living in a cute little cottage near Inverness. She had found it when she was visiting a friend not long after her husband died. When he died a part of her died with him. When a mate dies, if the bond is tight, there is a good chance the other left behind will soon follow. Aldain was afraid his mother would be right behind his father; she had told him the only thing keeping her alive was the son that they shared. He looked so much like his father her heart ached every time she saw him. But she loved him and wasn’t ready to leave him alone; especially since he hadn’t yet found his mate.

Dragon shifters lived very long lives but they weren’t eternal. His father lived to be several hundred years old. The oldest dragon shifter known had lived to be a thousand years old. His mother was five hundred and her age in dragon years would be comparable to forty in human years. She was still a beautiful woman. Dragon shifters aged like humans until they hit eighteen then they aged very slowly. Aldain looked around twenty-eight in human years but he was a little older than that, closer to 150, which was considered very young in dragon years. His father was one of those dragons who decided if he couldn’t find his mate, he would remain alone but then his mother came along. Aldain was an only child but he had plenty of playmates so he never missed having siblings.

  His father was also the head of the dragon shifter clan. When his father died, that title went to Aldain. He was also on the council that consisted of different factions of paranormal or magical beings. It was hard for him to be both clan leader and council member so he had his best friend Malcolm MacMurray be his second in command of the clan, who was doing an excellent job of overseeing things. Aldain went to visit once a month to make sure there were no problems and to let the clan know he was still their chief and always had their best interests at heart.

His clan was living at Isle of the Sky. He was born there and lived there most of his childhood. His father then had his castle built close to Edinburgh because it made sense. There always seemed to be some kind of skirmish going on between dragon shifters and other kinds of shifters. The heads of each clan made Edinburgh their main meeting place, it was considered neutral ground. During these skirmishes, all the clan heads would meet to decide if any rules were being broken and try to get the warring factions to come to some kind of an agreement that would benefit both sides. There was always fighting over land as the clans got bigger. His father did what Aldain did. He put someone he trusted in charge of the clan on the isle, namely Aldain, which left him free to attend the meetings in Edinburgh. Aldain gave Tori the watered-down version of course.

Chapter Seven

They walked back to the castle, hand in hand during the early morning hours. Becca looked out the window and saw them in the distance and a smile crossed her face. She couldn’t think of a better man to help tame her sister. She knew Tori would also keep Aldain on his toes. She wished she had thought of having her sister come out sooner. She hoped with all her heart that things worked out between them. She would just have to watch and see. 

Becca was also going to tell Tori about her being a vampire before she went to bed tonight. She practiced how she was going to tell her and nothing she tried sounded right so she was just going to tell her the truth and hope for the best. Becca walked with Tori to her room. Becca asked her if she had a few minutes to talk to her before she went to bed. Tori told her she would love to talk to her. She suggested Becca go get her nightclothes on too, that way they could lie in bed like they did when they were little girls telling each other their secrets. It seemed a lifetime since they had done something like that. When Tori finished changing Becca was knocking on her door. Tori hugged her and they both got comfortable on the bed. Tori raised her eyebrow waiting for her sister to tell her whatever it was she wanted to say.

Becca nervously cleared her throat and smiled at Tori. “I have something I need to tell you and you might find it hard to believe but please let me tell you the whole story before you interrupt me okay? It is going to be hard enough without you interrupting me every minute. You can ask me questions when I am done.?” Tori couldn’t imagine what it was she was about to hear but she promised to keep her mouth closed until Becca was done with her story. Becca proceeded to tell her that Cade was a vampire and how she met him. How he had saved her from a rapist and killed him using his vampire strength. She told her about having to go in front of a council to be accepted.

Becca didn’t tell her what kind of beings made up the council but she did tell her about Monique being the head of the vampires. She told her how Monique was so opposed to her that she had Alex, another member of the council try and kill her. The only thing that saved her was for Cade to turn her. She also told her that Aldain knew the story but didn’t feel it was his place to tell Tori. He left that up to Becca. When Becca was done, she looked at Tori waiting for her to say or do something besides stare at her with huge saucer shaped eyes.

Finally Tori said, “So let me get this straight. I have a brother-in-law who is a vampire who turned my human sister into a vampire to save her life?” Becca shook her head yes. Tori then said,” Prove it!”

Becca blinked, “Excuse me.” She said in a shocked voice.

“Prove it. I want you to show me you are a vampire and not just telling me some outrageous story, “said Tori.

Becca wasn’t expecting this. She smiled at Tori and as she did her teeth slowly elongated into fangs. Tori scooted away from her, “Holy shit! You have fangs!”

Becca reached out to her sister. “Hey Tori don’t be afraid of me. I am still your sister and you know I love you. I just have a few added features that’s all. Cade and I don’t go around sucking people dry. We live off animal blood or blood from the hospital blood bank. If Cade didn’t turn me I would have been dead. How would you rather have me…. dead or a living vampire?”

Tori’s mind was whirling. She decided the love she had for her sister outweighed the fact she was now what some people would call the living dead. But the part that mattered to Tori was the ‘living’ part. The more she thought about it the more she came to terms with it. In a very weird way knowing Becca could kick some major human ass made her feel a little safer. “Becca, I love you no matter what you are. I am glad you told me and we will talk more about this. I have so many questions. But right now, I have to try and wrap my head around this and try to sleep.” They hugged each other and Becca left feeling so much better knowing her sister finally knew the truth about her. She was glad she didn’t have to keep making excuses to her for not going out in direct sunlight. She sighed and padded off to bed where her fated mate was waiting for her.

Aldain and Tori were heading to Edinburgh the next day for her shopping trip. As much as she tried to sleep, all Tori dreamed about was Aldain; knowing he was close by made sleeping impossible. As soon as the sun came up she took a luke warm shower. That seemed to help calm her nerves while heading to Edinburgh.

Tori was enchanted with the scenery as Aldain told her stories of historical events that took place along the route they were driving.

When they arrived in Edinburgh Aldain parked the car. Tori wanted to walk around the city as much as she could. There were plenty of shops to check out but there were also medieval relics everywhere. Aldain explained to Tori that the clan whose festivities they were going to would be wearing a blue colored tartan. It was worn for dancing and festivities. She decided that she would look for something close to the same color if she could.

Aldain showed her the blue color of the tartan from a shop that made them. In a little tucked away shop, Tori found the perfect outfit. It is what some would consider a one-piece outfit. The neck line was low-cut which enhanced her cleavage. The sleeves had slits at the top and went to just above her elbows. The middle hugged her waist and accentuated her hips that Aldain loved so much, followed by flared pants that would twirl if she decided to dance. It looked extremely beautiful on her. She also bought a pair of silver high heels to go with it. Before she could look at the price tag, Aldain had already paid for them without blinking an eye, Tori shrugged. He offered to pay for her outfit so if it made him feel better who was she to complain?

Aldain took her purchases and put them in the trunk of the car. He asked her if she wanted to see some historical sites. Her face lit up and she said she wanted to see as much of the city as she could. He took her to various places throughout the town that most visitors went to see, and other places off the beaten path. He had a vast knowledge of Scotland’s history and he made each story very interesting. She loved Edinburgh castle so much he practically had to drag her out of there.

As the day passed, they realized the last thing they had eaten was a bagel each for breakfast. They were so engrossed in seeing the sites they missed lunch and both of their stomachs were complaining. Aldain was surprised his dragon had been so quiet. When he got hungry he was usually impossible to quiet down until he stuffed himself.

Aldain took her to a small out of the way restaurant. He told her it mainly fixed Scottish food. He wanted her to try the Haggis, but she scrunched her nose at that suggestion when she saw one of the locals eating it. It didn’t look palatable to her. Aldain laughed at the look she gave him. “I promise Tori it tastes better than it looks. I am having that myself.” Tori settled for the Fisherman’s pie but she promised him she would take a bite of his Haggis. Years ago, Haggis was fixed in a sheep’s stomach but as time went by it was put in a sausage casing instead.

As they were waiting for their food, a young man walked over to their table. “Aldain how nice to see you. Who is this lovely lass you have with you? I don’t think I have seen her around.” Aldain got a sour look on his face. He wasn’t happy to see this man. You could tell by the way Aldain’s body stiffened as he got closer to them.

He introduced them, “Tori Robinson this is Alec Russell.” Alec looked at Tori with such intensity it made her uncomfortable.

There was something creepy about this guy. Tori held her hand out to shake hands with Alec, he grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. The feel of his lips against her skin made her shudder. “I am pleased to meet you Miss Robinson.” He said.

Tori quickly removed her hand from his, “Thank you, Mr. Russell. I am from the states but Aldain has shown me your beautiful country. It is a pleasure meeting you.”

Alec’s eyes twinkled, “Ah an American, and a very beautiful one at that. Where have you been hiding her Aldain? If you aren’t spoken for I would very much like to get to know you better Miss Robinson.”

Before Tori could answer Aldain stood up and standing in front of Alec said in a threatening voice. “She is very much spoken for Alec.” Tori swore she saw Aldain’s eyes flash yellow. When she looked again they were normal, it must have been a figment of her imagination.

Aldain clenched his hands. He was ready to rip Alec apart. He couldn’t help the protective streak that rushed through him. Tori quickly stood up and put her hand on Aldain’s shoulder. “I am sure he didn’t mean anything by it Dain.” She looked at Alec and as she put her hand in Aldain’s said “I appreciate the compliment Mr. Russell really. As you can see Dain and I are together. I guess you will have to find another American woman to ply your charms on but I am sure you won’t have a problem there seems to be plenty American women visiting Scotland.”

Alec looked daggers at Aldain before turning to Tori, “Ah well it is my loss and his gain Miss Robinson. It seems Aldain is a very lucky man. I wish you both well. It was good seeing you again Aldain and it was a pleasure meeting you Miss Robinson. Please enjoy your meal. I have somewhere I have to be.” With a nod of his head he left. Tori looked around and realized people were staring at them. She smiled and sat back down telling Aldain to do the same. His entire body was shaking with the control it took him to keep from throttling the life out of Alec. He took in a deep breath before taking his seat.

The waitress came shortly afterward with their food. Tori leaned over the table after she had left. “What the hell is wrong with you acting like some kind of Neanderthal. I can handle myself and I could have handled him. You don’t own me Dain. If you are going to act like that every time a man flirts with me I am not going anywhere in public with you again. That was a scene I could have done without,” she said in a low voice.

Aldain couldn’t believe he caused such a scene himself. He had no idea what had come over him. His dragon was so upset he almost shifted. Aldain had never come that close to shifting in public. Ever! The entire time Alec was flirting with Tori all his dragon kept saying is ‘mine, mine.’ This time Aldain agreed with him, he knew it was because Tori is his soul mate. The compulsion to protect her was overwhelming. Aldain knew he was going to have to give Tori an explanation that would placate her.

He looked deeply into her eyes. “I can’t begin to tell you how very sorry I am. When he grabbed your hand then stood there leering at you like you were his next meal something in me just snapped. The only thing that makes sense to me is after what your ex did to you, my protective instincts are in overdrive. Please forgive me Tori.” He looked at her with such sincerity in his eyes she knew he was telling the truth when he said he was surprised at his own reaction.

Her face softened, “Well okay but promise me you will keep a handle on that over protectiveness. I would hate to think we couldn’t go out in public together. I like spending time with you. I would like to be able to do it anywhere.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it to let him know he was forgiven. He smiled at her, he was going to have to take a trip to visit his mother. Maybe she would be able to help him figure out what was going on with him.

As promised, Tori took a bite of Aldain’s Haggis. It wasn’t as bad as she thought. The look of it was sure deceiving; it tasted better than it looked. It was getting late and they decided to head back. When Aldain was sure Tori was buckled in he told her to stay there for a minute; there was something he had to do. Tori just gave him a questioning look. He promised her he would only be a few minutes. As he left she couldn’t help wondering why she couldn’t go with him. It could have been some last-minute business he had just remembered. She wasn’t waiting long before he returned.

They arrived back at the castle just as the sun was going down. They had been gone the entire day. Apart from meeting Alec, they had a wonderful time. Becca and Cade were just leaving for the night and told Tori they had already eaten. Aldain came in carrying her outfit. She took it from him and thanked him. To show him everything was still good with them she gave him a kiss that almost curled his toes.  He would have liked to continue that kiss and see where things went, but Tori told him she was tired and would see him in the morning. He watched her go upstairs, watching her hips sway as she walked. He felt the heat start to consume him. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of her; she was like a drug to him!

The clan party was in two days. He would go see his mother tomorrow. It had been some time since he had seen her so he was looking forward to it.

Chapter Eight

While Tori was still sleeping, he told Becca that he had some business to attend to and that he would probably be back late. Neither Becca or Cade had met his mother yet, but when he talked about his childhood and mentioned her his features softened. There were times you would get a quick glimpse of how he must have looked as a little boy.

He drove to the little cottage his mother loved so much. He saw her in her garden and honked and waved as he drove into the driveway. By the time he got out of the car, his mother was standing there and gave him a tight hug. “I have missed you ma. You are looking good; the Inverness weather seems to agree with you. How have you been?”

His mother gave him a wide smile, “I have been fine my son. I always miss you but I know how busy you are.” She ran her hand down his face and looked into his eyes. “Something about you seems different. Is everything ok with you, with the clan?”

Aldain looked down at her sweet face. “Everything is fine with the clan ma. I am going through some things new to me and I came to see if you could help me understand why?” Heather Kincaid got a worried look on her face. Aldain assured her it was nothing to worry about as they walked into her cozy kitchen.

As they sat down at the table she grabbed his hands and said, “So tell me what is going on with you. Don’t hold anything back.”

Aldain laughed. “It isn’t a dreadful thing ma but I found my soul mate.”

Heather sat back and clapped her hands. “Oh, Aldain I am so very happy for you. Why didn’t you bring the lass here so I could meet her?”

Aldain cleared his throat before he said, “Well it’s sort of complicated. She isn’t a shifter she is human. She doesn’t know our kind even exist. I am trying to go slow with her before I let her know. I don’t want her running off. The problem I am having right now is with myself. When another man gets close to her I have a tough time keeping my dragon from coming out and I want to kill him. I have never had that feeling before. When I am with her I feel like a whole man. I didn’t know I was missing a part of myself until I met her. When I am away from her I feel like a part of myself is missing. I need to know what it feels like and what to expect when you find your soul mate. I couldn’t think of anyone else to go to who I know would be totally honest with me other than you.”

Heathers face softened as she listened to Aldain. It made her heart glad that he found his soul mate. She was afraid he never would. She knew he said if he couldn’t find her he would spend the rest of his life alone. Her heart ached at the thought of him living alone. Now her prayers have been answered.

When he finished, she put her hands in her lap, sat back in her chair and told him everything he needed to know. “Well I know when I met your da he went through those exact same feelings. If a man came within a hundred feet of me he was growling and trying to keep his dragon at bay. It isn’t just the protective instinct but his dragon also felt threatened by another man. It was like he thought the other man was trying to take me away from him. After we were married that feeling lessened. As the bond got stronger, it grew daily, we could feel each other’s feelings. Sometimes it was hard to tell which ones were mine and which ones were your da’s. The love we felt for one another was deep down in our souls. Not one day went by that our love didn’t seem to grow deeper; we always knew how the other felt. Your da was on a hunting trip when I went into labor with you. He felt my pain and left everyone in the hunting party to get to me. He made it a point to be by my side while I was having you.” Her eyes teared up at that precious memory.

“I hope that I helped you understand more about some of the feelings you have been having and probably the strange way your dragon has been acting.”

Aldain walked over to his mother and hugged her tight. “Yes ma it does. Thank you. I don’t think I can feel what Tori is feeling yet but when it does happen I won’t be surprised by it. I will just know our bond is getting stronger. Will she be able to feel my feelings too? She is human so she might not have the same capabilities a dragon shifter does. Will she continue to age as a human does? I can’t imagine their short life span will have me losing her so soon.”

Heather smiled, “I know of other shifters that have had humans as mates. When Athena found the perfect first mate for Paragon, she made it so a small part of his soul intertwined with hers that allowed her to age like a dragon shifter. I am sure that part has already happened. Otherwise your dragon wouldn’t have known she was your soul mate.” Aldain was glad to know that. It meant he and Tori would have long lives to love one another.

Aldain stayed with his mother the rest of the day. He told her how Tori came into his life. How much he loved her and was just waiting for the day he could tell her what he was and hope she loved him enough that it wouldn’t matter. As the sun was starting to set, Aldain left promising his mother he would bring Tori to meet her as soon as he could.

Chapter Nine

The next morning was the day that Aldain was taking Tori to the clan festivities. She was so excited she was like a little girl at Christmas. She could barely sit still long enough to eat breakfast and she wanted to start getting ready as soon as possible. Before she headed upstairs to get ready Aldain took her aside. “I have something for you. I hope you like it.” He pulled a long black case from his pocket. When Tori opened it she gasped. In the case was a beautiful blue sapphire bracelet. It was the same color as the outfit she bought.

“Oh, my god Aldain this is gorgeous.” She reached up and gave him a kiss. “I can’t wait to see how this looks after I have my outfit on.” She practically ran up the stairs.

Aldain then went to get ready himself. He decided he would wear the Kincaid tartan to the festivities to show respect for the Clan Leader. It didn’t take him long to change. He was done before Tori so he waited for her in the kitchen. He couldn’t imagine it taking so long for her to get ready but then he never had to wait for a woman getting dressed for a party before. He finally heard her coming down the stairs. He was at the bottom waiting for her, as she appeared he lost his breath. Her beauty was all he could think of and how much he wanted to forego the party and take her in his arms, go upstairs and spend the rest of the day and night making love to her. His heart was pounding, his breathing was rapid and a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. His dragon was yelling at him to take her, forget the party. It took everything Aldain had to not shift in front of her, take her in his talons and fly off with her to one of the many caves he knew about and make passionate love to her.

As she arrived at the bottom of the stairs Aldain reached out a shaking hand to touch her face. He cleared his throat. “My god Tori! You are beautiful lass. You will put every woman at the party to shame.”

Tori twirled around and put her arms around his waist. “Well thank you. You are no slouch either. I am glad you approve.”

As Tori walked to the door to leave she turned around. Aldain just stood there, his feet glued to the floor. His eyes smoldering with passion. She smiled at the look on his face. “Well are you coming or am I going by myself?”

Aldain gave himself a mental shake. “Over my dead body would I let you go alone. I am right behind you.”

Tori was so excited. She was telling Aldain everything she was going to ask the clan chief. Aldain told her what the clan chief’s name was. She was so excited and she hoped she would be able to remember but if not she would wing it somehow.

They got to the party in plenty of time. There were people everywhere wearing blue tartans or dresses. They were at some beautiful park and in the middle, was a huge tent. Aldain helped Tori out of the car and they both headed straight for the tent. Sitting in the middle of it was the Clan Chief. As Aldain and Tori walked towards him he stood to greet them. “Aldain my friend I am glad you came.” He said as they both hugged each other. As they separated the Clan Chief noticed Tori. “Who is this bonnie lassie Aldain?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Aldain introduced them. “Tori this is Robert McEwan Clan Chief and Robert this is Tori Robinson.”

Tori looked the Chief in his eyes and said. “I am so happy to meet you. I know I am not a member of your clan but Aldain told me that most of you would be wearing blue so I wanted to blend in as much as possible.”

Robert laughed. “And very lovely you look lass. Please feel free to call me Robert. All my friends do. Aldain is a good friend of mine and if you are with him then I put you in the same category,” Tori smiled up at him.

She charmed him with that smile of hers. “If you find you have time today, I would love to ask you some questions.” Robert told her he would find the time to answer them.

As other people arrived to show their respect for their Clan Chief, Aldain and Tori wandered out from under the tent. There were all kinds of events going on. In one spot, there was a huge pig on a spit being turned. Under a smaller tent there were men playing bag pipes and in some places people were dancing. There were tables and tables of food and drink set out. Tori and Aldain walked over to them as Tori took a plate and put a little of everything on it. She wanted to try as much as she could.

Aldain told her later in the day there would be horse races. Tori was excited to watch the races, she loved to watch the horses. They were so sleek and beautiful as they ran. In the meantime, she was hovering near the bag pipe players. Some of the music they played had a haunting sound to it. A woman grabbed a microphone and started singing some very old Scottish songs. Tori thought they were beautiful. She was entranced with the music and lyrics. She had never heard anything so lovely. When the woman sang ‘Fhear A Bhata’ she cried.

A handkerchief appeared in front of her and she noticed it was being held by Robert. He said, “I know how you feel lass, that song always makes me want to cry myself. I have a few minutes so I thought if Aldain didn’t mind we could go to a quiet spot and you could ask me all those questions you are about to burst with.” Aldain was hard pressed to agree to let Tori out of his sight, but it would have been such an insult to the Clan Chief and he knew she would be in safe hands. He bowed his head to him, kissed Tori and put her hand in the Chiefs. He told her he would be by one of the food tables.

Tori followed Robert to a spot close to a small spring.  He sat on a log and invited Tori to sit next to him. “Ok lass; ask away and I will answer what I can.” Tori plied him with questions regarding the history of his clan. After he told her the condensed version about his clan’s history, he also told her that the countries national animal was the Unicorn. Tori didn’t know that but told him she loved Unicorns. She had a Unicorn collection at her home in the States. He told her that it is believed the Unicorn was the natural enemy of the lion. The lion was the symbol the English had adopted.  This belief was a tradition going as far back as the ancient Babylonians in 3,500 B.C.

Tori was entranced with all the knowledge he had. They both lost track of time. Soon there was a trumpet sounding that the horse races were soon to start. “Och I let time get away from me.  I have enjoyed our time together lassie but I must be there for the horse races. I am the one that has to wave the flag to get them started.”

Tori was sorry their time had to end. Robert reached down to help Tori up. “Oh, please go on ahead of me. I just want to spend a few more minutes here. It is so tranquil. I promise I won’t be here long.”

He frowned. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone. I don’t feel right about not bringing you safely back to Aldain. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Tori batted her eyes at him. “Look around. There isn’t anyone here but us. Everyone seems to be waiting for the horse racing to start. I promise I won’t be much longer. I’ll be back before anyone misses me.” As usual Tori got her way. Even with his misgivings on leaving her alone, he agreed to let her have her few minutes. He did tell her he was going to tell Aldain where he left her.

Tori looked around the park. It was stunning! The mountains in the background were huge and snowcapped, even though it was the middle of summer. She sighed, she knew she should go meet Dain. She didn’t want to miss the horse races and if she stayed to long she knew he would come looking for her.

As she stood up she noticed the man she had met in Edinburgh, Alec Russell, walking towards her. She didn’t know what it was about him but he seemed off to her somehow. “Well, well Miss Robinson. How nice to run into you. I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon but I am glad I have. How are you enjoying the party?”

The way he looked at her sent shivers through her. “Hello Mr. Russell. I am enjoying it very much thank you. I was just heading over to join Dain to watch the horse races.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her. “There are still a few minutes before the races start. What’s the hurry? I would like to get to know you better.” He was leering at her.

Tori’s senses heightened. She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me without permission Mr. Russell. I don’t appreciate being man handled.” She gave him a withering look and started to walk away. Before she took three steps he had his hand over her mouth and was forcing her into a nearby grove of trees. She fought him with all her strength but he had an iron grip on her.

As he dragged her into the grove she bit him on his hand drawing blood. He let go and punched her, “You bitch. You are going to be sorry you did that.”

He grabbed his scarf he had around his neck and quickly tied it across her mouth before she had a chance to scream. He looked around to make sure no one was coming. When he was sure they were unnoticed he started tearing her shirt off. Tori squirmed and kicked for all she was worth. Her hands were loose and he was surprised at how strong she was. She scratched his face and he grabbed her hands.  She managed to squirm enough to allow her to give him a hard kick to his face. She put everything she had into it. It spun him around and he went to the ground. It gave her just enough time to get up and start running.

She tore the scarf off her mouth and started screaming for help. Her mind reverted back to when Tom was beating her. She knew if he caught her he would kill her.  She wasn’t paying attention to where she was running she just wanted to get away. She didn’t hear the people yelling at her to stop. She was heading towards the field where the horses were racing. Aldain started running towards her.

She was oblivious to the danger she was running into. Aldain had almost reached her, almost. The only conscious thought going through Tori’s mind was getting somewhere far from Tom, in her mind that is who she was running from. She had to get far away!

Everything happened in slow motion. Tori ran into the middle of the field that the horses were racing on. They were running at full speed. The riders tried to stop them but she was to close. She had run only a few feet in front of them and the last thing she remembered was turning around to see what looked like a herd of horses barreling towards her.

Aldain saw the horses literally trample Tori into the ground. His feet were rooted to the spot. This couldn’t be happening. He was so close to her, but not close enough to pull her out of harm’s way. He stood there as he saw her small bloodied body lying so still. He heard someone screaming from a distance and didn’t realize the screaming was coming from him. He ran and picked up her broken body, holding it close to his own. “Noooo Nooooo Tori please wake up.” He was in so much emotional pain he wasn’t aware that people were trying to get him to release her so they could see if she was even alive. He had a death grip on her.

Finally, they were able to tear him away from her. There just happened to be a doctor on the premises. He heard a very faint irregular heartbeat. He couldn’t believe she was still alive. As people rushed around to try and stabilize her before the ambulance got there Aldain and his dragon were experiencing the most intense emotional pain of their lives.

He fought the men off from trying to hold him back. Instead of him running towards Tori he ran away from her. He just knew she was dead, he was dying himself inside. He got far enough away so he wouldn’t be seen shifting. Not all clans were dragon shifters, Robert’s clan weren’t shifters. Robert was the only one that knew Aldain was a shifter. All the Clan Chiefs knew of the dragon shifters and it was a closely guarded secret among the non-shifters.

He knew of a nearby cave he could go to. He flew there and shifted right away. He fell to his knees! He threw back his head and roared. “Why! Why! Oh, god Tori I can’t live without you.” He put his face in his hands and sobbed. He cried until there were no tears left. The pain in his heart was so intense he contemplated tearing it out of his chest himself. He stayed on his knees for hours. He couldn’t think, all he could do was feel. Suddenly he felt something else, a little spark of life that belonged to someone else. He concentrated on it and hope overwhelmed him. Could it be what his mother had told him about? Could that little spark be telling him that Tori still lived?  Could she miraculously still be alive? He felt this separate spark of life in his heart. It wasn’t strong and it was sporadic. But it was there, it just had to be her. He had to know if it was her.

He shifted and went to the nearest hospital where he knew they would have taken her. It was dark so he didn’t have to worry about being seen in his dragon form.  He ran into the hospital yelling her name. He was stopped by Robert the Clan Chief.

“Aldain you have got to calm down. You are going to get thrown out of here yelling like that.” Aldain grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Is she alive Robert. By some miracle is she still alive?” Hope showed in Aldain’s eyes as he asked the question.

“Aye lad she is but just barely. The doctor isn’t sure she will last the night. She is very badly hurt. There isn’t a bone in her body that isn’t broken and she has massive internal injuries. They surgically fixed those but she is still very critical. We didn’t know where you had gone but we did get in contact with her sister. She is with her now. I think you might want to go see her too. If for no other reason than to say your good-byes.”

Aldain’s tears started to flow. If it was within his power he would make her live by sheer determination alone. He couldn’t lose her. He found the room she was in and there was Becca holding Tori’s hand with tears streaming down her face. Becca was talking to her like she was having a normal conversation. It was as if Tori would wake up any minute and start talking to her. He stood outside her room and looked at all the machines she was hooked up to; heart monitors, breathing monitors. She had a breathing ventilator breathing for her. It seemed like there wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t broken or hooked up to something. They even had EEG lines hooked to her head to monitor her brain functions. Thankfully, even though the brain function was minimal, she still had some.

Chapter Ten

Dane was with Becca in Tori’s room. Dane’s face looked so forlorn. He just stood there with a hopeless look, wanting so badly to be able to help, to do something to make it better. All he could do was be there for Becca and her family to give them moral support. He felt so helpless.

Becca looked up to see Aldain standing inside the doorway. She looked at him with wild accusing eyes. “You promised to take care of her. You promised and I trusted you. Now take a good look at what your disregard of her has done. She might not make it through the night because she is so damaged. What was so important Aldain that you just ignored her the way you did? I thought you cared for her.”

Her voice got louder as she started to shout at him, she got close enough to pound on his chest as she continued to heap blame on him. He didn’t try to stop her. Everything she said was true. He didn’t keep Tori safe.

All he could do was stand there and let every biting hurtful remark hit like daggers in his heart. He didn’t deserve any better.

As she stood there pounding on his chest, telling him how everything was his fault a woman’s voice that sounded like a sonic boom said, “ENOUGH!” Becca stopped in mid-sentence and looked at the woman the voice belonged to. She was a small woman in her mid-forties. Becca couldn’t believe such a large voice came out of such a small woman.

Aldain recognized that voice. He slowly turned around and there stood his mother. “Ma don’t” she waved him away.

She walked up to Becca and grabbed her hands gently. “Becca, I know how hard it is to watch someone you love suffer like your sister is suffering. I also know it is human nature to blame someone for this. But look at Aldain. Really look at him. Do you honestly think if he could have stopped it that he would have allowed your sister to be harmed? I don’t know if he told you but she is his soul mate. He would die to keep her safe. He suffers as much as you.”

Becca did what his mother asked and really looked at him. What she saw was a broken man. A shell of the man she knew, loved and trusted. His eyes were sunken in. They were puffy and red from all the crying he had done. He even looked thinner to her. She looked into his eyes and saw raw pain in them. The same kind of pain she was feeling. She walked over to him and hugged him, “I am so sorry Aldain. I know you would do whatever you could to keep her safe. I guess I just needed someone to blame to help make sense of all this. Please forgive me. I know it isn’t your fault.”

Aldain disagreed. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I let her, you and your entire family down. Even if you can forgive me, I can never forgive myself.”

He was so broken, Becca was afraid he may never be the same again. Aldain’s mother asked Becca if she wouldn’t mind giving her a moment with her son. She promised her if Tori so much as stirred she would call for her straight away.

Tori went to get some coffee so Heather could talk to Aldain alone. When she closed the door, Heather hugged him and kissed him on his forehead. “Is isn’t your fault Aldain. Things happen for a reason. I am not sure exactly why this happened but the Gods have their reasons. You must have faith. I can’t believe you are supposed to lose Tori as soon as you have found her. You need to stay with her, talk to her, let her feel your love. That love will bring her back to you. I just have this feeling she is going to make it. Don’t leave her side. You have to trust me that everything will work out.”

Aldain said in a choked voice. “How do you know it isn’t just wishful thinking on your part ma? That you want her to live only because you know I would rather die than live without her?”

Heather looked into the haggard face of the son she loved so much. “Something is just telling me to have faith. I am going with what I feel in my heart. Stay with her, by her side. I will be here if you need me. Go to her now, tell her you love her. Tell her how much you need her in your life. I won’t be far if you need me” She kissed him softly on the forehead and left the room.

Aldain walked over to where Tori was resting, so tiny and helpless. He pulled up a chair and sat next to her and held her hand. He put her hand near his heart and started to talk to her in Gaelic. “Mo ghaol, Chan eil fhàgail dhomh mo chridhe. Chan eil bàs agus fàg mi mar a tha mi. Chan urrainn dhomh fuireach gun thu. Till thugamsa cuiribh.” Then he started to sob again, his shoulders shaking with the intensity of them.

His mother and Becca were standing outside the door as he talked to Tori. Becca asked her what he was doing. Heather told her he was speaking to her in Gaelic. Becca asked her what he was saying so Heather interpreted it for her. He is saying, “My love, don't leave me my heart. Don't die and leave me alone. I can't live without you. Come back to me please.” Heather repeated his words with tears streaming down her face. This was something that she couldn’t make go away for her son. Even a mother’s love was no match for this kind of pain.

Days went by and Tori was still hanging on. Each day she lived gave Aldain hope. Every day he would talk to her, tell her how much he needed her and how much he loved her. He willed the strength from his body into hers. He didn’t know if it worked or not but he had nothing to lose.

Tori was fighting to reach the light. She seemed to be in a very dark forest where everything was dead. There was no sunlight, only darkness. She could see towards the horizon a light, like a beacon. She would walk towards it every night but never seemed to get any closer to it. She could hear voices coming from the light but they were so far away she couldn’t understand what was being said. There were times when she would feel spurts of energy flow through her body and she thought she was making good time, getting closer to the light. But then she would tire and when she would stop it still looked just as far away as when she first started.

She could feel Dain’s love for her. She could feel it encompass her body like a warm blanket. She didn’t know how she knew it was his love for her, she just did. Her heart was feeling his pain. She just had to get to him. She could feel how bad his despair was affecting him and how he was losing his will to live. She couldn’t lose him because she loved him too much. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to reach that light, but reach it she would.

Tori figured she was in some place between life and death. When she first woke up in this dark forest, she was so frightened she couldn’t think straight. The last thing she remembered were horses running towards her and people yelling, then she woke up in this dark place. It took her some time before she finally realized that she had been run over by the horses and has ended up in this in-between place.

Tori was walking towards the light when she noticed a different kind of light coming towards her. She stopped and watched it. It was extremely bright and the closer it got to her the more she started to back away. Suddenly a voice came from the light. “Don’t be afraid little mortal. I mean you no harm.” The light dimmed then a shape started to appear. Before she knew it, a beautiful woman was standing before her with long blonde hair. Light was shimmering all around her. Her eyes are very blue and   have a very strange glow to them. On her body is what looks like battle armor and on her arms, are bracers and greaves. She has a breast plate over her chest. The armor is made of silver with the design on it of a huge leafy tree. It’s what most people think the tree of life might look like.

Tori asked, “Who are you?

The woman smiled. “I have several names but the one most mortals recognize is Athena.”

Tori slumped down to the ground, hard. “Athena as in the Goddess of Olympus?”

Athena smiled, “Yes that is me.” Tori wasn’t sure if she should get up and bow or should remain sitting because she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up. She was in front of a Goddess of Olympus. She knew now, they existed, and weren’t just a myth.

“Tori I came to ask your help. One of my dragons is dying. He has much left to do but his will to live is almost gone. You are the only one that can make him want to continue to live.”

Tori shook her head, “Did you say dragon? I didn’t even know they existed. I don’t know of any dragon. I can’t help.”

Athena walked closer to Tori. “But you do know him. It is Aldain.”

Tori stood with her mouth agape. “Dain is a dragon? He looks like a man to me. How can he be a dragon?”

Athena looked at her with a sadness in her eyes. “Aldain is a dragon shifter. I created them thousands of years ago. They are the guardians of the mortal world. They are comparable to the noble knights that your history teaches you about. Most of them were dragon shifters in the mortal world, mortals just didn’t know it.

You can feel the pain in his heart, but he can’t feel your will to live. He can’t feel that your spirit is trying to come back to him. You must concentrate, have your heart and soul call out to his. He must know you will come back to him; his love for you is literally killing him. You can’t allow him to die.”

Tori was having trouble processing everything she was hearing. The man she loved wasn’t a man, he was a dragon. Why didn’t he tell her? As if Athena could read her mind she said, “He wanted to wait to tell you. He wants to be sure of your love. He is afraid if you found out to soon you would run from him. Don’t be upset with him. He did it because of his love for you. The more you concentrate on your feelings for him, the better the chance he will feel them. The stronger your bond, the closer to the light you will get. He needs you; he needs to feel your love for him. You are the light that keeps him wanting to live. He must know it hasn’t been extinguished.  You are his soul mate. Only you can save him.” With these last words, Athena disappeared.

Wow! She was Dain’s soul mate. A soul mate to a Dragon Shifter. She really wasn’t surprised to find out she was Dain’s mate. Their relationship is so intense on every level she could think of. But a dragon?  Did that mean if she made him mad he would eat her or if he didn’t want her any more he would turn her into a pile of ash? This was something she was going to have to talk to Dain about when she saw him again; if she saw him again. Tori wasn’t sure how to get Dain to feel how very much she loved him, but she knew if she could feel his love for her he would be able to feel her love for him. She concentrated on his face. She sent all the love she felt for him to that picture in her mind. She hoped it worked.

Chapter Eleven

As Tori was in the between place, Aldain was still sitting at Tori’s bedside. He hadn’t eaten or slept since she had been there. A week had gone by and everyone including the medical staff had been begging Aldain to eat something, but food just didn’t appeal to him. He was getting extremely weak and his face was starting to look gaunt. One of the doctors that came in to check on Tori threatened him with I.V. feedings. It was heart wrenching to watch such a large man wasting away.

Aldain brought Tori’s hand to his lips. He kissed it then ran a finger down her face. He started to repeat what he had repeated every day since the accident. “Tori love, please come back to me. I don’t want to live without you. I want you back and I want us to have a long life together. I want to love you again.”  He lay his head down on the bed as he continued to hold her hand. Suddenly, he jumped. He felt a spark come from Tori’s hand. He held onto her hand tighter, suddenly a rush of love coursed through his body. He could feel her love, comforting him. She was here! She was trying to find her way back to him. His heart and soul reached for the love Tori was sending them. His dragon roared. She was back.

Aldain started yelling, “Tori love. Follow the sound of my voice. I don’t know where you are but follow my voice. Come back. Fight. I am right here waiting for you.”

Tori could hear someone yelling from the light. She just knew it was Dain. Her heart leapt with joy. He must have felt the love she was sending him. She felt a burst of energy course through her body as she was running towards the light, it was getting closer. Oh God, she was going to make it. Suddenly she was at the light and she could hear Dain yelling. She vaulted into it.

Aldain saw Tori’s eyes flutter. She moaned as she looked at him. She knew she was in the real world again. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t ache. She saw the tears streaming down Dain’s face as she squeezed his hand. She tried to talk to him but found she couldn’t speak. The only thing that came out was a squeak. She needed something to drink, her throat was parched. Aldain grabbed some water that was on a stand. He put a straw in it and gently lifted her head so she could drink from it without choking.

When she was done, he slowly lowered her head back down. She smiled up at him. In a whisper she said, “I felt your love Dain. It helped me find you. I felt the pain in your heart. I felt you dying. I didn’t know how to let you know I was trying to come back to you until Athena came to me and told me how to make my journey back to you. She told me you are a dragon shifter.”

Aldain listened to her, a look of shock appearing on his face when she told him Athena had come to her. As far as he knew, after Paragon was turned, no one had ever heard from or seen her again. He said, “I thought you were lost to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you. I have been begging you to come back to me since you have been here. But I never felt anything from you. Now you are back and I will never let you out of my sight again.” He gently kissed her on her lips. He then ran out of the room yelling to anyone within shouting distance that Tori was awake.

He went back in to sit by Tori’s side because he knew once the doctors got there they would shoo him out. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her until that happened. It wasn’t long before the nurses and doctor arrived at her room. She could see her sister, parents, Cade and some other people she didn’t know standing outside her room. A lot of them were crying and hugging each other. She felt bad that she had put these people she loved through so much. But she was glad she was alive. She was starting to have doubts that she would ever find her way out of the dark place she was in.

As the doctor was examining Tori, Heather was busy hugging Aldain. She was crying but these tears were tears of happiness. She was watching her son waste away.  He was losing his will to live as each day went by without Tori waking up.  She had never seen her son cry as much as he cried for Tori. Many nights she would quietly go check on him and would find him sobbing, begging Tori to come back to him. It ripped her heart out. She had never ever felt so helpless as a mother as during those times. Now she could see that twinkle in his eyes again. She could see and feel the happiness emanating from him. He was going to be alright.

As the days passed Tori got stronger. Aldain started gaining weight and was starting to look like his old self. The first-time Tori got out of bed, she almost collapsed because her legs were weak from lack of use but Aldain was there to catch her. He quickly picked her up and sat her in his lap. He knew she should be trying to walk but he craved the feel of her body against his. Surely a few more minutes, or hours wouldn’t hurt.

As she was sitting in his lap one day, she brought up the subject of him being a dragon shifter. She asked him all the questions she needed answers to. When she asked him about the part of him eating her or turning her to dust he soon put her at ease. “Tori my love; I would never ever hurt you. It goes against my very nature. You were made for me and hurting you would be like hurting me. I will never get tired of you. Each day I fall more in love with you than the day before; I will live each day cherishing you. “Tori loved him and trusted him enough to know she would always be safe and cherished by him.

Tori met Heather and they got along great. Heather could see why Tori was her son’s soul mate. She might be small but she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground when she wanted something. She was just the person her son needed to keep him in line.

When Tori started to get up and move around, she was insisting she wanted to go home to the castle. Her parents were there and Heather and her sister were there. More importantly Dain was there. She wanted to spend some quality time with him which was impossible to do in a hospital room. After a few more days passed she was able to wear the doctor down. He knew there were plenty of people with her that would ensure she wouldn’t overdo it.

Aldain was at the hospital bright and early to pick her up and bring her home. The hospital wanted to wheel her out to the car but Aldain insisted on carrying her. Just her body being close to his gave him a calming feeling. He gently sat her in the seat and buckled her up before thanking the medical staff for the excellent care they took of her.

Chapter Twelve

As they were driving down the road, Aldain reached over and with his free hand and grabbed hers. It was as if he had to have constant physical touch with her to reassure himself she was alive and still with him. He had experienced being in a dismal soul sucking abyss when she was unconscious, and he knew if anything ever happened to her again he wouldn’t survive it. If he could have attached her to him in some way he would have.

He hoped he would be able to lighten up on those feelings; he didn’t want to overpower her with his protective feelings. He knew it would suffocate her eventually and it isn’t the way he wanted their relationship to grow in the days to come.

When they arrived at the castle there was a small party waiting for her, all her family was there. She was surprised to see her best friend Carrie there and squealed with delight when she saw her; Aldain had flown her in to surprise Tori. Robert McEwan and some of his clan were also there. He came by the hospital every day inquiring about Tori’s condition because he felt partly responsible for what happened. He left her alone against his better judgement and it almost cost her life.

While Aldain was getting Tori out of the car; Becca took the softest most comfortable recliner they had and put it in the middle of the living room, then she put chairs and some couches in a circle around the recliner. The room was huge so moving the furniture around the recliner still left plenty of room for everyone to be comfortable.

Aldain carried Tori over to the recliner after receiving hugs from everyone. Her mother had fixed huge trays of raw vegetables that Tori loved. Becca and Carrie spent hours in the kitchen the night before cooking various kinds of food, American and Scottish. There was enough food to feed an army. Tori’s mom brought her several plates of food with a little food on each one; there was just so much from which to choose. Her mother set them on t.v. trays beside her and everybody else had their plates and sat around her. She felt the love and warmth of her family and friends surrounding her but there was one person she kept waiting on. Finally, she saw Dain heading her way. He laid his heaping plate down on one of the trays and scooped Tori into his lap.

Her arms automatically went around his neck as he lifted her up as he sat down in the chair holding her in his lap. He made sure she was comfortable, covered her with a light blanket and handed her a plate. He made it apparent to her and everyone else that this is where she was going to be for the remainder of this gathering.

Tori was enjoying herself when Robert cleared his throat. Everyone stopped talking as they looked at him; there was clearly something he wanted to ask. “Tori lass, I can’t tell you how happy I am you are still among the living, but I have to know. Why were you running and screaming towards the horses? What happened that had you so frightened?”

A frown crossed Tori’s face. She couldn’t remember what happened. Try as she might the memory just wasn’t there. “I-I can’t remember. The only memory I have is seeing these horses running towards me. I don’t know how I ended up there or why.”

Aldain put his arms around her. He could tell she was upset at not being able to remember what happened. “It’s alright love; the doctor said you suffered memory loss. He said you would eventually get it back but there are small cases that don’t. He asked you soon after you woke up if you remembered what happened. You didn’t.” Tori frowned. She didn’t remember the doctor asking her a question like that. Aldain hugged her close and kissed her.

He told her if she was meant to remember that she would, but for right now he didn’t want her to worry about anything and just enjoy herself being with the people who loved her. She snuggled into him as she listened to everyone talking and laughing. Her head was resting against his chest and she was listening to his heartbeat. It helped comfort her and without meaning to she fell asleep. Aldain told everyone to continue to enjoy themselves as he decided to take the sleeping Tori upstairs and put her to bed. He was going to stay in the room with her.

He quickly but gently undressed her. It was a warm night out so he just left her naked. He then undressed and got in beside her, spooning himself against her. She sighed as she felt his warmth against her.  He smiled; it made him feel good to know that having him with her mattered as much to her as it did to him. He lay there wondering when he should broach the subject of them making their relationship permanent. She knew she was his soul mate and she seemed alright with it.

As all these thoughts were going through his head he didn’t notice that Tori had turned around in his arms and was looking at him with a smile on her face. He felt a wave of heat coursing through his body. The sexual flame was coming from Tori. He looked down at her and saw her staring at him with seductive eyes.

She reached up and brought his head down to hers and when their lips met, he moaned. She started running her hands down his chest as he pulled her body closer to his, deepening the kiss. The flame was starting to consume him. The only thing that existed at that moment was Tori and himself. He felt her hands working their way down his body working it like magic. His manhood was as hard as iron, wanting to bury itself in her silky folds.

He gasped as her hand gripped him firmly and started to stroke it. It had been so long for him that he knew if she continued much longer he wouldn’t last more than a minute. He quickly put her on her back so his body was over hers. He whispered in her ear. “No love, I won’t last. I have to feel me inside of you.”

She whispered back, “Then take me now Dain. Let me feel you inside of me. Please, I have missed the feel of you so much.” He didn’t have to be told twice. He moved the head to her opening and in one thrust filled her all the way to her womb.   He ran his steel hard shaft through her moist folds. He wanted to be gentle but his dragon took over and he thrust into her hard and fast.

He took her legs and put them over his shoulders. With each thrust Tori could feel him fill her. Her vaginal walls contracting like a vice with each plunge. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to last long enough to please her but he couldn’t stop or slow down if his life depended on it. Sweat started to appear on his face. It was taking a huge effort not to climax before her.

Tori’s body was basking in the sensations her body was experiencing. Her heart was racing and her body was starting to shake. She could feel that coil tightening in her body. She started to call his name as her body started to stiffen. Aldain could tell she was close to climaxing. He reached down and started to rub her engorged nub as he continued his assault. He sped up his thrusting with a powerful desire to mark Tori washing over him. Before he could even think of what he was doing his teeth elongated and he quickly bit her on the shoulder. This put her over the edge. Her body stiffened as she orgasmed so hard she saw stars. Aldain shouted her name as he felt himself filling her womb full of his seed. With each spurt, Tori’s body reacted, causing her to orgasm repeatedly. She felt like she was on a cloud and it took her a minute before she could think. It was like she had an out of body experience.

When she was able to have rational thought, she saw that Aldain had sweat pouring off his face. He had turned on his back and had her on top of him running his hand down her hair. His breathing was ragged and his hands were still shaking. She could feel the bounding of his heart beat as her hand rested on his chest. His eyes were closed and you could tell he was trying to get control of himself. Tori couldn’t help smiling, knowing it was her that had the power to make this large powerful man a quivering mess.

When a few minutes had passed, Aldain turned on his side, taking Tori with him as he kissed her forehead repeatedly.  Tori looked at him with half lidded eyes, “I can honestly say I never thought a love bite would affect me as much as the one you gave me.”

Aldain looked at her sheepishly, “Uh it was something more than a love bite. It’s my mark on you to let other dragons know that you belong to me. In case you don’t know it’s what a dragon does with his soul mate. I love you with my whole being! I love you with all my heart and soul. So, I have been thinking, since all your family is still here along with your best friend; would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I promise you will want for nothing. We can get married while everyone is still here.” Aldain held his breath as Tori’s eyes widened at his confession.

She took in a shaky breath. “I love you to Dain. I thought I knew what love was, and then I met you; that was when I realized I have never felt this way about another man. What I feel for you goes beyond definition. I know with every beat of my heart, it beats with love for you. I can’t imagine you not being a part of my life, I will marry you. You are the only man I will ever need or want.” Aldain held her close. He closed his eyes at the feel of her body next to his, his heart beating rapidly with love for his soul mate.

Chapter Thirteen

The day of the wedding arrived and it was beautiful and Aldain insisted he wanted to take care of setting everything up. Tori wasn’t sure what he had in mind but his mother assured her, whatever it was, it would be spectacular. He also wanted to choose picking out her wedding dress. She trusted him enough to let him do all these things while she concentrated on the guest list and the food. She was glad her sister turned out to be such a marvelous cook, not to mention her mother and Cassie were there to help with matters. They all insisted on fixing the meals for the wedding. It seemed that the numerous items delivered came in truck loads. Tori’s list of guests was very small since everyone she wanted there was already at the castle. Aldain’s list, on the other hand, was huge. When Tori saw his list, it looked like he invited all of Scotland. His entire clan was invited along with everyone from the McEwan clan. It also looked like there might be everyone from town too.

Tori got to meet Aldain’s best friend Malcolm MacMurray who was also the one in charge of Aldain’s clan when he wasn’t around to take charge. Aldain wasn’t there much because being a council member took up much of his time. Malcolm did a superb job of taking care of matters concerning the clan. He was also going to be best man at the wedding.

Tori was having her best friend Carrie as her maid of honor. She asked her sister, but Becca really wanted to do the cooking for everyone. Tori wasn’t hurt at all that she had declined the offer, she knew her sister loved her and she loved her sister enough to not feel offended. If cooking for the masses meant that much to her then she was all for having her do what made her happy.

As the time grew closer for the ceremony, Tori was feeling butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t seen Dain all day. She was starting to wonder if he was capable of setting things up like he said. While wondering if she should just sneak away and peek at the glen they were going to be married in, the doorbell rang. When she answered it, a man dressed in the colors of Dain’s clan stood there with a large clothing box in his hand. He bowed to Tori, introduced himself as one of the honor guards that was part of the wedding party and informed her he was delivering her wedding dress.

Tori had no idea the wedding was going to include an honor guard. It was Dain’s wedding too so if he wanted an honor guard he could have one. She would find out later that honor guards were all part of Paragon Dragon weddings. They were the first dragon shifters to come into existence and were the protectors of the human race. It was something special when one found their soul mate and she was in for a wonderful surprise when she got to the glen.

Her mother, Heather and Cassie all followed her upstairs. Their curiosity was so palpable that Tori didn’t have the heart to draw out opening the box slowly. She tore it open, her curiosity as intense as theirs. When she opened the tissue paper and saw the gown, they all gasped. It was the most glamorous gown they had ever seen. It was made to mold to her body like a bodysuit. The background of the gown was white, but throughout the gown were small flames of orange and red.

These flames represented Dain’s clan coat of arms. It was a huge red flame with a smaller orange flame in the middle. The silk of the gown had a luminous glow to it. The entire waist was covered with blue sapphires and the hem was surrounded by golden leaves. They represented the leaves on the Tree of Life. Tori was touched that Dain remembered her telling him about the design on Athena’s armor. The entire length of her veil was embossed with golden Trees of life. In the box was a small square jewelry case, in it were earrings made of pure gold. On them was a single leaf surrounded by more flames. They shimmered every time the light hit them when Tori moved her head. The flames were dancing and looked alive when light touched them. By the time the women were done with Tori she looked exquisite.

Her bouquet was made of white and blue flowers with tiny orange roses set in strategic places to make everything be noticeable. She was met at the door by six honor guards and she walked in the middle of them as they marched towards the glen. They were all dressed in the Kincaid colors, their shirts were red and their kilts were red plaid. They each had a sword attached to their waist with the Tree of Life etched in gold on their scabbards. They were all solidly built and you could tell they were soldiers from the way they carried themselves. Tori knew they would be formidable men to meet in a battle. Her family and Carrie walked behind the small procession.

Tori gasped as she arrived at the glen. There was a small gazebo in the middle of it with chairs surrounding it in a semi-circle. Canvas tops were above all the chairs and farther back were more tops above tables of food.  In the middle of the gazebo stood the Kincaid minister, Aldain and Malcolm. Dain looked extremely handsome in his Kincaid uniform.

The sight of him took Tori’s breath away. When Aldain saw her his jaw dropped slightly but he quickly closed his mouth. She was beyond stunning; to him she was the most beautiful woman in existence. His dragon huffed and Aldain was having a very hard time keeping him at bay. “Hey, she will be ours soon enough. If you keep acting like this you will scare her away then all the patience we used getting to this moment will have been for naught. Behave!” His dragon made a mewling sound but was quiet for now. They both knew she would belong to them shortly.

The honor guard stepped back as they arrived at the gazebo as Tori’s dad then took his place beside her. He whispered in her ear. “You are beautiful sweetheart. I have never been so proud.”

Tori’s eyes brim with tears. “Thank you, daddy. I love you!” He cleared his throat at her declaration.

Music started in the background from the many bag pipe players which was the minister’s que to ask who was giving her away. With a look of pride and love Tori’s dad put her hand in Aldain’s.  As they turned to face the minister, Aldain pulled a paper out of his pocket. He had written his own vows. Tori was surprised because he didn’t tell her he was going to do this. If she would have known she would have written her own also.

He looked deep into her eyes as he said in a strong voice, “Tori my love, until I met you I didn’t realize how lonely my life was. The love you have given me has taken away my loneliness and filled my heart and soul with love and laughter. Your smile is like sunshine, your laughter like the song of angels. You are the air I breathe; you are my life and the other half of my soul. You took a half of a man and made him whole, I tell you this day. I will love no other, I will be there for you in good times and bad. Forever I will love you and will do everything within my power to make you happy and love you unconditionally. I am honored to be your husband. I love you more than my life, forever I am yours.”

As he recited his vows, the tears were falling freely down Tori’s face. She couldn’t imagine loving him any more than she did at this moment. She felt his love fill her entire being. Her love for him poured out of her body, it overwhelmed the area around her. People close to her could feel it springing from her.

Tori thanked him for his eloquent and heartfelt words. She said, “My precious love; I have no words written on paper to tell you how I feel or what your love does for me. Each day I wake I find I love you more than the day before. I have experienced the love of your heart and your soul and for this I thank you. All I can do is return your love as deeply as your love is for me. I promise you, I will love no other, desire no other and I want only you at my side. I will love you during the good and bad times. I love you more than the stars in the sky, to lose you would be worse than death. I need you in my life; I am yours now and forever, in life and in death.” Aldain wasn’t expecting this from Tori. Her love for him humbled him like nothing else ever had.

They both looked deeply into each other’s eyes, sending each other their love and a promise of ecstasy when they were alone. They both turned towards the minister. He said very few words after the vows they had just expressed to each other and pronounced them man and wife. As he pronounced Tori his wife, Aldain lifted her veil, pulled her body close to his and assaulted her lips with a sensuous kiss. His kiss deepened as Tori’s lips matched his, her tongue curling in his mouth, showing him her heightened senses were just as strong as his. Both seemed to forget where they were until a cheer went up from the men in Aldain’s Clan. Tori’s face turned red, which Aldain thought was adorable. He had never seen someone’s face turn quite that shade before. He would have to see if he could manage to do that again, from a distance of course. His idea of having fun at her expense might not go over as well with her and he wasn’t an idiot. She might be small but she was dynamite when crossed. She was the true epitome of ‘watch out for big things coming out of small packages’.

As people from Aldain’s clan all stood in line to meet their Clan Lord’s new wife, Tori thought she saw someone at the edge of the tree line, standing where he could barely be seen. When she blinked, and looked again, he was gone. She must be getting paranoid or something. Maybe it was having so many people taking up so much space in her little glen; she loved the glen. It was the one place Dain and her would go to spend time together. Whether to sit under a tree and talk, fish, swim or make love. It was their secret gem and she wasn’t used to seeing it full of other people. It almost felt sacrilegious to her but she knew it was only for today.

The line seemed unending to Tori. Her feet were killing her and she was getting hot standing in one place. Aldain noticed his brides discomfort and to her surprise carried over her favorite recliner, the one she always liked to sit on in the castle.

She raised an eyebrow. He looked at her with a sheepish grin. “Well I knew eventually you were going to get tired standing on your feet for so long so I had some of my men hide it away out here for when you needed it.

Tori gave him a hug and pulled his head down to hers. “You are something you know that, I so owe you one for this.” She gave him one of her smiles that sent the blood rushing from his heart to his manhood. He felt it start to stiffen and engorge. The entire day he had been fighting with his body to behave. Tori looked so appealing all he wanted to do was take her with him to the place he was taking her for their honeymoon and devour that luscious body of hers. For most of the day he kept it under control, but it seemed as time went on he was starting to lose the battle.

Cade and Becca remained in the castle while the sun was high, using the excuse that they had to keep the food going for the hungry people outside of the castle. Becca had told Tori earlier about her being turned into a vampire by Cade. Tori wasn’t sure how she felt about her sister being a vampire, she worried about the fear of her having lost her soul. Cade assured her that this wasn’t the case. The only way a vampire lost its soul was if it preyed on humans and became totally evil, having lost the last of its humanity over time. Cade might have spent a couple of hundred years killing the descendants of the judges that put his first wife to death, but he didn’t feed off them. He just killed them because the thought of their blood in his body turned his stomach.

Becca had told her that they lived off animal blood or occasionally got blood from the blood banks from the hospital. They had a fellow vampire that worked there and he could sneak out blood when they would get a surplus of it in from the occasional blood drives the hospital would have. Considering her sister would have died if Cade hadn’t turned her softened the blow for Tori. She was grateful her sister was still alive, in a manner of speaking, so was glad that Cade had saved her. She didn’t particularly care how as long as it didn’t turn her sister into some kind of soulless blood sucking monster. Finding all this out made her feel safe enough that her nightmares were almost non-existent now, not to forget that she was also the mate of a dragon. What human could even come close to winning a fight against them?

As the sun started to set and the light of the sun started to turn a soft yellow, Cade and Becca were finally able to join in the party. The rest of the food was being kept warm in warming pans; Becca had finally fixed the last of it. She was tired but had a pleased expression on her face when she saw most of what she had fixed had been eaten. It seemed there wasn’t going to be as much left over as she had thought. It gave her a feeling of accomplishment to see that everyone there seemed to enjoy the food she had prepared, Cade was just as proud of her. He sometimes wondered if a vampire could get fat from eating too much food. He could also eat human food but blood was the life force that kept a vampire alive.  Eating human food, was just something that was enjoyable and helped them keep in touch with some of their human qualities.

Tori was glad to see them both, they walked over to her and hugged both her and Aldain. Tori’s dad thought it a little strange that his daughter Becca wanted to stay inside during the wedding service but he recorded the ceremony so Becca and Cade could watch it on DVD.

Chapter Fourteen

As the last rays of the sun disappeared and the stars lit the night sky, the lights set up at the glen lit up. They weren’t exceptionally bright, they were light enough to illuminate the surroundings in a soft glow.

Some people were starting to leave and some were dancing to the lovely Scottish tunes played on the bagpipes and portable organ. The haunting melodies traveled throughout the glen. Tori and Aldian sought the solace of each other’s embrace, both needing to feel the closeness that they shared together. It was getting harder for them to keep their hands off each other. It wouldn’t be long until they said their goodnights to their guests. They both refused to tell anyone where they were going to go on their honeymoon. They were only going to be gone two days but they were keeping their whereabouts a closely guarded secret. Tori would never admit that Aldain refused to even tell her where they were going; he wanted her to be surprised.

Aldain had turned the cave not too far away from the castle into a honeymoon suite. He got the idea when Cade lived in his cave in Yellowstone and he worked on it for days to crate the perfect hideaway. He had help when the regiment of his clan came early to see if they could do something that he might need help with, they were a godsend. In no time, he was able to put up false walls around the cave using redwood paneling. He put battery powered lights on the wall sconces and had a huge oversized king bed put inside. He used the softest mattresses he could find, because Tori loved to sink into her mattress at night.  He had red silk sheets put on them with red silk pillowcases. The comforter was down filled and was also red, with a huge gold Tree of Life in the middle. He had blue lights installed in the slow meandering stream that went through the cave giving the water a beautiful soft blue glow. He put mirrors at the mouth of the cave and had them positioned in such a way that the reflection from them reflected off the mirror above their bed. Making it look like they were outside under the millions of stars shining in the obsidian night.

He had coolers that looked like a glass full of various kinds of fresh fruits; champagne with numerous other edibles and drinks in the glowing blue stream to keep them cold. The cave had another worldly look to it, he hoped Tori liked it. He did everything with her in mind wanting the time they spent there to be magical.

The guests finally dwindled down to a handful of people and Aldain was ready to take his bride, his beloved wife, to the place he had lovingly transformed for her. She hugged her family, and said good bye to the rest of the guests as Aldain took her hand and she followed him into the castle. Aldain told her to go upstairs and change her clothes.

He told her to dress casually, because they would be travelling for quite some time and wanted her to be comfortable. She had loaded up the car with her suitcase the night before. Aldain had taken it to the cave before she woke up, everything she needed was already there and put away.

  She finished changing in record time, she was curious to know where they were going.  He took her to the car, strapped her in, then went to the other side and got inside. He started to drive away in a direction going up the mountainside, away from any town or city that she was aware of. She turned her head and with a raised brow said, “Where are we going? I didn’t know there were any major roads in this direction?”

Aldain smiled, “There aren’t. You will just have to trust me.”

Tory scrutinized him. “I will always trust you.” As she reached over and squeezed his hand.

It didn’t take long before he came to a huge clearing by the side of the forest. He stopped the car, got out and went to the other side and unbuckled Tori. He kissed her softly on the lip, “We will have to fly to the place we are going. Do you mind?”

Tori’s eyes widened. “You mean you will have to shift into a dragon and I will have to ride you? Oh yes, I so want to see you in dragon form. I want to see the other part of you that belongs to me too.”

Aldain ran his hand down her face. He loved her so much that words couldn’t do justice to how deeply he felt about her. He slowly undressed and put his clothes in a back pack. Tori stood quietly enjoying the sight of his naked body, he looked like a God in the starlight.

He moved away from her and she saw him shimmer. Where a man once stood was a beautiful, huge, red dragon. Tory was looking at beautiful yellow eyes peering down at her. She slowly walked towards him. “Oh, my god Dain you are so beautiful.” As he lowered his head she slowly ran her hand down his face. She was surprised to feel that even though most of his body had beautiful vibrant red scales his face was soft to the touch. “Do you retain all your human memories while you are in this form?” she whispered. He slowly shook his head up and down. She realized she loved the dragon as much as the man.

He was huge and powerful, he was beautiful and frightening at the same time. He loved her and she could feel his love encompass her heart. The power of it made her knees weak. How lucky she was to have the love of both these creatures, the man and his dragon. Two halves that made a whole, both powerful in their own way. She had never felt more loved as she did at this moment. The dragon felt her love for him coursing through his body to his soul. She was his as much as much as she belonged to the man form. He bellowed his victory to the skies. She loved the dragon; she accepted him. His life was finally complete, for she completed them both.

Without hesitation, he knelt down so Tori could climb on his back. He nuzzled the back pack with his nose and Tori looked inside. Besides Aldain’s clothes there was a rope in there. Aldain lowered his head and Tori was able to take the rope and tie an end to one of his massive horns that went half way down his back. When he lifted his head up, she just hung on the rope until she could swing her body over and sit on his back. She tied the loose end of the rope to her waist. It might not be the ideal way to travel on dragon back but if she fell off, she would still be attached to him.

She wiggled around and tightened the rope to help keep her balance. When Aldain felt she was ready, he took off at a run and was shortly in the air. When he lifted off he heard Tori give a ‘whoohoo’as his huge wings waved through the air. It took only minutes for him to get to the cave he had fixed for them.

When they arrived at the cave Aldain knelt so she could get off his back. She gave a curious look towards the cave but she was going to wait for Aldain before she took another step. She backed away from him and watched him shimmer back into a man. He grabbed the back pack and put on some casual clothes. He didn’t change at the castle like he had Tori do, he knew he was going to be taking his clothes off shortly anyway.

He had her close her eyes as he scooped her off her feet. She put her arms around his neck, as he carried her across the mouth of the cave before setting her down. Tori could hear water and smell the fresh smell of earth. She opened her eyes and gasped at the sight before her.

She looked around not being able to believe what she was seeing. The cave had been transformed into the most beautiful room she had ever seen. She walked around and noticed the beautiful walls, the gorgeous blue water in the stream. She saw the huge bed and couldn’t help herself, she ran and threw her body on it. She immediately sunk deep into the mattress, it felt like pure bliss. She lay there with her eyes closed for a minute. When she opened them she gulped as she realized she was staring into the most beautiful night sky she had ever seen. She studied it, realizing it was a mirror that was showing the sky outside. The millions of stars twinkling in the night was making the darkness come alive. She was lost in the beauty of it until she felt Dain sit on the bed. He had a look on his face she had never seen before. He looked anxious for her approval.

“Well do you like it? I tried to think of everything you would need while we are here.” He gave her a questioning look.

She reached up and pulled his head to her face so she could look into his eyes. “I think this is the most beautiful place I have ever seen, I want to keep it like this forever. I see everything I could ever need here, but the most important thing I need and want is you. Where ever you are; I will have everything I need. You went the extra mile making this for me. Words fail me at how beautiful and special to me this place is. I want this to be our retreat forever.”

She kissed him with such ardor that Aldain groaned as she intensified it. All thoughts left his mind as he was just experiencing the moment. They spent the night making love to each other, exploring each other’s bodies and finding unknown erogenous zones. By the time they were done there wasn’t an inch of each other’s bodies they hadn’t explored.  They fell into an exhausted sleep, one of extreme satisfaction and a feeling of comfort encompassing them, each dreaming of the other.

It was much later in the day and well after noon, when they both woke up. They lay there for a brief time just gently caressing each other. Neither spoke, they just stared into each other’s eyes and felt the love they shared embrace their bodies. It seemed as if their bond had grown overnight. Their bodies could convey their love for each other simply by physical contact. It was a new wonderful experience for both of them and they just wanted to enjoy the moment.

Chapter Fifteen

Aldain suddenly jerked straight up, his eyes had a faraway look to them. Tori knew he was getting a mental message from his friend Malcolm because she could hear it too, but it sounded garbled. Tori knew in time she would have the same ability but it was still too new for any kind of mental message to be clear to her yet.

He was frowning. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He had a thunderous look on his face; it scared her. “Nothing for you to worry about my love. There is someone sneaking around at the glen, a trespasser. I must leave for a very brief time but you must stay here where you will be safe. I promise you I won’t be long.” He wasn’t sure who the trespasser was but he was sure he would be found and taken care of shortly.

Normally someone unknown on the glen wouldn’t have been a cause for concern. All anyone had to do was ask permission and he would have gladly allowed them to enjoy the glen. But this individual never stopped to ask permission, he was seen sneaking in and out of the small forest surrounding it. That worried him.

He grabbed Tori and kissed her and told her he wouldn’t be long. He shifted and flew down into the open part of the glen. He knew that Tori’s parents and Carrie were inside the castle. Malcolm had insisted they go inside to make sure they remained safe and he put a guard to every doorway.

Malcolm walked quickly over to Aldain as he handed him some clothes. “He was seen several times just on the outskirts of the forest and he was recognized by one of the men so we know who it is.” Aldain stiffened as he was told who was trespassing on his property. “It is Alec Russell.”

Aldain’s body froze, his heart started pounding in his chest. “My god, he is a shifter and I left Tori alone. I must get back to her! If you find him, keep him here, I want to take care of that bastard myself.” He immediately shimmered into his dragon and took off for the cave, praying Tori was still safe and out of harm’s way.

Several minutes after Aldain left, Tori heard footsteps at the entrance to the cave. She smiled thinking, that didn’t take long. She turned her head to welcome him back and when she saw who was standing there the smile left her face. She blinked several times in disbelief when she saw Alec Russell standing there. He had a malicious look in his eyes.

All her repressed memories started rushing back with him trying to rape her at the clan gathering and she was running away from him. She now remembered all of it, even running in front of the horses. Her body shook with terror and rage because she was alone with him. She looked around for something to use as a weapon. If she could keep him away for a short time, she knew Aldain would feel her fear and be there shortly.

Alec started to walk slowly towards her. “Well well, how lucky am I? Here I am thinking I would have to fight your mate for you and you are here alone. Unprotected.” He said as his smile widened at what he alleged as his good luck. Tori slowly backed away from him. She remembered seeing a small dagger in Aldain’s back pack and she managed to grab it. It was at the end of the bed under the covers; she was able to retrieve it without Alec noticing.

She had it hid in her hand when she got up from the bed. She opened her mouth to say something to him but when she started to speak she noticed a tremor in her voice. She took a deep breath before she said anything else. There was no way she was going to show this asshole she was afraid of him. “If I were you I would leave while you have the chance. You know Aldain will kill you if he finds you here.” Alec moved so quickly he was like a blur.

Before she knew it, he was standing directly in front of her. He moved with lightning speed. “Ah but my bonnie lass I won’t be here and neither will you. We will be gone before he can get here.” To Tori’s horror he shifted and grabbed her in his huge claw, running towards the cave opening.

There was no way she was going to let him take her away if she could help it. She screamed, “Let go of me you fucking overgrown lizard!” as she shoved the dagger deeply into his claw. He roared as he dropped her.

Tori was scrabbling backwards like a crab when she heard a powerful roar outside. Aldain had felt her terror and knew she was in trouble. She needed him now more than any other time. His dragon was set on killing Alec and Tori made sure she was out of the way when Aldain landed on the ledge to the cave.

Aldain didn’t waste any time charging for Alec. Alec had time to take a breath and spew fire at him. Aldain’s scales kept much of his body safe from the fire for they acted like armor. Aldain had no intentions of making this a long drawn out fight. He was going to find Alec’s weakest point and destroy him.

Alec was trying to make Aldain circle him. He knew if he could get in front of the entrance he could turn and run but Aldain refused to give him that chance. He knew what Alec was trying to do, he would have to go through him to get to the entrance. He knew he was larger and stronger than Alec. He also knew Alec for the coward that he was.

When Alec realized Aldain wasn’t going to give him a way out, he knew this was going to be a fight that was going to end in someone’s death. He was determined it wasn’t going to be his; he would do whatever it took to win this fight. Aldain leaped towards Alec with his teeth barely missing his head as Alec moved away. Alec sprang at Aldain’s stomach and he moved his body sideways just as he saw him coming.

Tori was squatting on the floor watching these two dragons fighting in earnest. She knew one of them was going to die. She just kept sending all her love and strength from her body into Aldain, hoping he could feel them. She still held the dagger firmly in her grasp hoping to get a chance when she could use it. She wasn’t sure if there were many weak spots on a dragon but as she watched them fight she was looking to see if she could find one.

She saw Alec bury his teeth into Aldain’s side and blood began to run freely down it. It didn’t seem to slow him down, Aldain roared as he swiped at Alecs stomach. He wasn’t fast enough and Alec roared in pain as Aldain’s talons ripped into him. Blood was running freely from both as the fighting continued.

Aldain grabbed Alec’s neck with his teeth and bit down hard. Alec’s dragon roared in pain. He moved his neck back in an upward thrust and managed to extricate himself. He also noticed he was facing the opening to the cave. He was weakened but he had enough strength to make it to the ledge and take off. As Alec barreled towards it, he quickly grabbed Tori on the way. He couldn’t help but turn around to show Aldain he held his most precious possession. He had his talon wrapped around her and held her up close to his face. He wanted to make sure Aldain knew if he tried anything she was only inches from his mouth. He wouldn’t think twice of popping her in his mouth and crushing her.

Aldain roared with rage because he knew Alec had the upper hand. He wouldn’t move as long as he held Tori in his grasp. Alec’s hold on Tori wasn’t as tight as it should have been; he wasn’t expecting what happened next.

With lightning speed Tori reached up and buried her dagger deep into Alec’s eye. He roared in pain and dropped her as his talon reached up to remove it. This gave Aldain the opening he needed.

Tori moved out of the way as Aldain moved with lightning speed towards Alec. He grabbed Alec’s neck with his mouth and moved his talon over his chest. Tori wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing as their bodies were close together. She saw Alec’s body jerk with each thrust of Aldain’s talon movement. Alec was screaming as she saw blood flowing like water from his chest. Finally, there was silence and Alec slumped to the floor, dead.

She looked at Aldain, he was gasping for air, but in his talon, he was holding something. As she looked closer she realized he was holding Alec’s heart. The shock of everything was too much for Tori, she fainted in a heap at his feet.

After she had fainted, Aldain shifted back to a man. He managed to pick her up and put her on the bed. In seconds, after the fight was over several of his regiment had shown up in their dragon forms. They got there just in time to watch Aldain throw Alec’s heart on the ground. Malcolm told his men to get rid of the offal stinking up the mouth of the cave. Alec’s body disappeared.

Aldain was so worried about Tori that he didn’t notice Malcolm beside him. He had some wounds and even though he was a dragon, it always helped the healing process to take care of any major wounds. Aldain had several but he was unaware of them because his entire being was concentrating on Tori. He had to know if she had just fainted to ensure that there wasn’t something else wrong with her.

Malcolm touched Aldain’s shoulder.” She is fine my friend. Listen to her heart for it beats steady and strong.” Aldain concentrated on her heart, he could hear it beat in his mind. It was as strong as Malcolm had said it was. He slumped his shoulders and leaned back on the bed. Now that he stopped worrying about Tori he could feel the after effects of his fight. His entire body ached and his side felt like it was on fire. He gingerly touched it and noticed he had lost more blood than he thought and he had a nasty looking gash in it. He nodded his head to Malcolm to go and do what he could for him. He closed his eyes under his friends’ treatment because he needed to rest for just a little while.

As Tori was coming back to consciousness she heard voices. At first, they sounded far away but the more alert she became the better she was able to hear them. She felt a hand on her forehead; someone’s thumb was rubbing around it in circles. She opened her eyes and blinked then noticed Aldain sitting on the bed beside her, he had bandages around his side.

Aldain noticed she was stirring beside him. He stopped what he was saying and looked down at her. Relief washed over his face as he saw her eyes staring up at him. “Mo ghaol, how are you feeling?” In his relief that Tory was awake he had forgotten she didn’t know Gaelic.

She gave him a questioning look. “I’m not sure, what did you just call me?”

He smiled, “It is Gaelic for ‘My Love!’

Tory smiled, she was going to have someone teach her his language. Not knowing it sure put her at a disadvantage.

“I am fine Dain,” she said as she reached up and touched his face. “My knight in shining armor was there to save the day. I remember what happened at the clan gathering the day the horses ran over me. Alec appeared right after Robert left and he tried to rape me. I panicked so badly that I reverted back to my memory of Tom beating me and all I could think of was getting away from him. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was running. I just ran.”

Aldain clenched his jaw. If he would have known that, he would have killed Alec that night. A feeling of rage coursed through his body and he turned away from her trying to get control of himself. Alec was dead and Tory was safe, that’s all that mattered now. He cradled her in his arms to let her know she was safe. Her body was shaking as she told him what she remembered, the warmth from his body helped calm her fears. Her body finally stopped shaking and with a sigh she closed her eyes again, this time to a tranquil sleep.

The people at the castle had heard what had happened to Aldain and Tory. They were waiting to see both of them, they had to see for themselves they were not badly wounded. Cade and Becca could have run to the cave in minutes but Malcolm posted guards at the mouth of it. He was adamant that no one bother them as they recuperated. He said she would just have to trust him.

Becca didn’t think it would be wise to stand their ground against several dragon shifters, but she fumed and threw Malcolm a look that would have made a mortal man fear for his life.

As Aldain and Tory were convalescing everyone at the castle tried to stay busy. Her mother put together fruit and veggie trays for her and found out what foods Aldain liked so she and Becca could make some of his favorite meals. In an earlier conversation Aldain had mentioned to Andrew how he was going to make a vegetable garden for Tori, so he spent his time finding a good spot and was out hoeing the area. He planned to fence it in when he was finished.

Malcolm found himself drawn to Tori’s friend Cassie. Cassie seemed the oddball, she was basically kicked out of the kitchen. Becca hated a crowded kitchen while she was cooking so having her mother help her was all she needed. Aldain had house staff that took care of cleaning inside the castle and a gardener that took care of outside. She really didn’t have anything to do.

Malcolm took pity on her so he offered to take her on walks throughout the garden and the glen. He checked on his friends daily but after that he gave her all of his attention.

He was mesmerized by her chestnut colored hair. Her lips were full and made him wonder how they would feel under his. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose and was perfectly proportioned with a tiny frame. He felt like a giant next to her. His protective instinct came to the forefront when he was around her.

Heather, Aldain’s mother, would always look at them with a knowing smile upon her face. She wondered how long it would take before Malcolm realized that he too had found his mate. She contemplated telling him herself but decided he needed to find out on his own. She knew if everything went as it should there would be another wedding soon and Tori’s friend wouldn’t be going back to the states.

Several days had passed and Tori and Aldain were going home. Aldain’s wounds were completely healed, you couldn’t even see a scar on his side. Tori just enjoyed being with him as he convalesced. As much as she enjoyed their time together, she really wanted to get back to the castle. Her parents and Cassie were going to leave soon and she wanted to spend their final days with them.

Malcolm made sure everyone was tucked inside the castle when they flew into the glen. He had left clothes for them in a backpack inside a small grove of trees. They dressed quickly and walked to the castle hand in hand. It felt good to be heading home. The good memories they had of their cave overshadowed the bad, but they both felt the need to be around people. Humans and dragons were both social creatures. They both missed friends and family. Aldain was surprised that he missed as many people as he did. Being married to Tori was starting to change him in so many ways and it was all good as far as he was concerned.

They walked through the door and everyone converged on them at once. Tori’s mother started to cry and hugged her like she was a little girl; it was extremely comforting to her. After her mother finally let go of her, her father gathered her into his arms. He said in a choked-up voice. “My baby, My baby. I am so glad you are safe.” Tori’s eyes welled up with tears. She could never before remember seeing her father being so emotional. Tori made the rounds hugging and being hugged by everyone.

Aldain was being hugged almost as much. His mother was the first person to grab him. Her body shook with emotion, knowing her son came close to being killed. She tried not to cry but fought a losing battle as tears streamed down her face hugging him to her tightly. Aldain ran his hand down her hair, “Shhh ma I am fine. Please don’t cry. You know I hate it when you do.”

Heather couldn’t help herself, his remark made her chuckle. When her husband died and she thought she was alone and her tears were falling, Aldain would catch her and hug her close. He would do anything to make her stop crying because it tore his heart out to see her sad.

Andrew and Cade gave him quick hugs also. It was their way of showing him how much they cared about his well-being. They were men so weren’t going to bear hug him, but it warranted more than the normal handshake.

Everyone wanted to hear about the fight but Malcolm refused to give any kind of elaboration. He didn’t feel it was his place to go into detail. The most he said was that Alec was dead by Aldain’s hands. If they wanted to know more they would have to hear it from Aldain.

  Aldain skirted over some of the details; he told them enough to placate them. He felt uncomfortable as all the women looked at him with hero worship in their eyes. He did what any dragon would do for his mate; there was nothing more to it. He got a look on his face that had his friend Malcolm smiling a huge smile at him. It wasn’t often he saw Aldain looking like he wanted to run. He was enjoying his discomfort though he would never admit it to anyone.

They all sat down to the exquisite meal Becca and Amanda had fixed for them. Aldain would never say this in front of his mother, but he thought Becca’s meals tasted better than hers. He would go to the grave with that thought.

After the meal, Andrew took Aldain out to see the vegetable garden that he had made for Tori, Aldain was impressed. Andrew had picked a prime growing spot that he knew Tori was going to love. He thanked Andrew and again Andrew looked at Aldain,” I was going crazy with the two of you somewhere we couldn’t go. It is the least I could do. Besides this is one of those times actions speak louder than words.” Aldain knew this was Andrew’s way of telling him how much he cared for them. It gave Aldain a warm feeling as he cleared his throat when they were heading back to the castle.

A few days later, Tori’s parents were getting ready to go to the airport. It was time for them to go home. Tori was going to miss them, but she knew she could see them anytime she wanted. They promised her they would come see her whenever her father could get time off work. She sighed. The surprising moment came when Cassie told her that she wasn’t leaving just yet.

Malcolm had invited her to the island because he wanted to show her around. Cassie was gone so long she was sure she didn’t have a job to go back to and oddly enough she really didn’t care. She felt something for Malcolm and wanted to get to know him better. He told her he had plenty of money so he would take care of all her needs. At first, she wasn’t sure she liked that idea but Heather told her it was the Scottish way and if she didn’t let him take care of her it would be an insult to him. Cassie didn’t want to insult him so she agreed.

Tori squealed with delight when she heard this. She told Cassie when she was done spending time with Malcolm she could stay with her at the castle as it had plenty of bedrooms; she could choose one as her own.

She looked at Aldain after she invited her. He smiled, “Absolutely you can stay here.” He had said to Cassie that he had a feeling he would be seeing much more of Malcolm now that she was here.

His family was growing and it made him feel wholesome and happy. He basked in the feeling of it. Only time would tell how much more it was going to grow; Aldain smiled in anticipation. ‘The more, the merrier’ he thought

End of Book 1

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The Vampire’s Embrace

The Gift of Blood:

Book 1

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Owned by The Vampire

Newsletter

© Copyright 2016 by Persia Publishing- All rights reserved.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Newsletter

Owned by The Vampire

Newsletter

© Copyright 2016 by Persia Publishing- All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

Newsletter

Owned by The Vampire

Newsletter

© Copyright 2016 by Persia Publishing- All rights reserved.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

Newsletter

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 1

Ashe lay on the roof of the music building looking up at the foul grey clouds as they raced across the sky. Her head lay on her backpack and her feet rested on the raised lip of the flat roof. Anyone looking up would only be able to see the worn soles of her shoes peeking over the ledge. A book lay open across her stomach: a collection of short stories for her English literature class. Though it was November, Ashe wore nothing more than a simple t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans with holes in the knees and up the thigh. She was never bothered by the cold. In fact, she loved the winter and the quiet cool months leading up to them.

Ashe was in the first semester of her final year at college. While those around her were preparing for their lives after graduation, Ashe found herself feeling just as lost as when she had first stepped onto campus three years ago, everyone had told her she would find her passion in time and to take as many different classes as she could until she found the ones that fit. However, in all this time nothing had sparked her interest in the slightest. She liked to read— she knew that much— and she liked to play the piano in the music building below her, but those two things alone did not make a future. She wasn’t enrolled in any music classes. She only liked the building for its practice rooms and easily accessible roof. Besides, she had been reading books and playing music long before coming to college.

What she needed was something to wake her back up. She sighed and stretched her arms out in front of her. The bell in the tower of the campus cathedral started chiming out the hour, its somber melody ringing out across the quad and distorting against the sides of buildings before it reached Ashe’s ears. She had a few minutes yet until class. She sat up, letting the book tumble off her stomach as she reached for her backpack. She tossed the book inside and zipped it up then got to her feet, dusting the concrete grit from the back of her jeans.

The door to the roof was set in at an angle, like the trapdoor to a tornado shelter. Ashe yanked it open with a grunt and slid herself in through the opening. When her boots hit the metal rungs of the ladder, she reached up again to close the door behind her. She wasn’t really supposed to be up there, but the door to the roof was never locked and she hadn’t gotten in trouble about it yet. She climbed down the ladder into the vast room that comprised half of the music building’s third floor. Once used as a rehearsal studio, it was now filled with dusty old boxes and empty instrument cases. Ashe often took loose sheets of music from the boxes and tried them out on the pianos downstairs. Their melodies were often macabre; sometimes atonal, and Ashe could see why they had been hidden away in the unused part of the building.

Ashe could almost feel the energy crackling in the air outside. It wasn’t a matter of if it would rain, but rather when. The wind whipped her long auburn hair in front of her face and she tucked it behind an ear so she could see. Students hurried between buildings with their coats clutched close, hoping to get inside before the downpour. Ashe set off towards the lecture hall with a small smile on her face. She liked the idea of a coming storm.

Angry red marks glared at Ashe from the paper. They slashed down the page like cuts wet with blood. Ashe glanced up at the students filling the lecture hall around her, but no one was paying her any mind. They never did. At the bottom of the last page was her failing grade and a message from the professor: SEE ME. The way it was written, in all caps with two sharp underlines for emphasis told Ashe this was just the beginning of her headaches. Three years of college and she was still just dragging herself along. She swept her long hair to one side and shoved the paper into her backpack. As she stood up to leave the lecture hall, a pen toppled onto the floor. She stooped to pick it up and hooked it onto the collar of her loose black V-neck so that she wouldn't lose it a second time.

She hadn’t studied for this test, not really, and if she was being completely honest with herself she could have done better. But her midterm on medieval European folklore had come at a time when all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep all day, hiding away from the world’s crap. Days like that happened more often than Ashe would have liked to admit, especially since going to college and realizing that the drama didn’t stop after high school. She kept to herself mostly and could count on one hand the number of people she bothered to keep in touch with. Campus was small, but her world was microscopic.

Ashe was nearly out the door when Professor Sharp called her name. She debated pretending she hadn’t heard him, but she had tried that tactic before and the man had followed her out into the hallway making the situation all the more embarrassing. This time she stopped and turned around, facing her professor with a poorly-hidden scowl on her face.

Her mythology professor was like a library come to life, not so much in his vast knowledge of all things related to folklore and myth, but rather in his appearance. He wore a corduroy jacket of a dusty brown with matching brown leather elbow pads sown in. His trousers were of the same fabric as the jacket. Though he couldn’t have been much older than Ashe’s father, his hair was a uniform white as if he had personally watched the centuries go by instead of merely studying them.

The man gave Ashe a searching look through his thick wireframe glasses. “You know I have office hours after class,” he said. “And if there’s anyone who could benefit from them right now it would be you.”

“I was going to go to the library,” Ashe replied. “There’s a book I need for my next class.” This was not entirely the truth, but Ashe was not prepared to spend an afternoon listening to her professor’s motivational words about the value of education and the rewards of hard work. She already knew what her problem was—she just wasn’t that interested in mythology.

Professor Sharp smiled. “I’ll make sure you still have plenty of time to get to the library when we’re finished. Walk with me to my office.”

Ashe hated how the professor refused to give up on her, even after a semester and a half of unimpressive grades. It made it that much harder to disappoint him. She begrudgingly waited as he shuffled his papers into his brown leather shoulder bag and followed him out the door.

“You know, a lot of lessons can be learned from folklore,” the professor said as Ashe walked with him through the hallway. “For example, the dangers of pride and the value of friendship and asking for help.”

“I’m not proud,” Ashe said, though immediately she regretted it. The words made her sound childish, insolent.

Professor Sharpe chuckled good-naturedly. “I didn’t say you were. I just think it would be good for you to reach out to your fellow students a little. Share the burden of studying for my impossible midterms and maybe make a friend or two along the way. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Ashe felt the prickle of anger, though she knew she had no reason to be angry. Professor Sharp may think people were the answer to all life’s problems, but Ashe knew just how much trouble they could bring. It wasn’t that she hated other people, but that she was trying to protect herself. Her past had taught her all she needed to know about the follies of relying on others.

As they rounded the corner to the professor’s office, Ashe could see someone already there waiting for him, someone she had never seen on campus before. If she had, she surely would have remembered. He was tall and a little gaunt, but the arms crossed in front of his chest looked stronger than his thin build would otherwise suggest. The dark circles under his eyes on an otherwise pale face made him look like he was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.  A lock of raven hair spilled over his brow, which he brushed to the side as he looked up to greet the professor. His smile made Ashe feel naked, as though any small move would betray just how fast her heart had started beating upon seeing him. Worst of all, she had no idea why she was feeling this way.

“Peter,” the professor greeted the student with a wave of his hand.

“Professor Sharpe,” the student nodded.

Ashe slowed as the professor approached the waiting student, not wanting to draw attention to herself or be unnecessarily pulled into the conversation. She was still trying to puzzle out the strange effect the man had on her.

“Need something?” the professor asked.

Peter gestured down at the rather large book in his hand. “I just wanted to return this.” It was a copy of one of the texts that Ashe should have been studying before the midterm, but she didn’t recognize Peter from her class. Her own copy of the book was currently wedged under a wobbly desk leg in her apartment.

“I found the section on Slavic vampire beliefs to be especially interesting.”

The professor laughed. “You’ve gotta give them credit for imagination, at least.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Though it makes me wonder how people were ever able to separate myth from the truth.”

“The truth?” the professor asked.

Peter’s brow furrowed. “I mean, these stories appear in the belief systems of people from all over the world, and this was way before anyone was trading information across cultures. Even a scholar like you would have to think there’s at least some truth to the idea of vampires.”

The professor shook his head, a humoring grin creasing the wrinkles around his eyes. “You’re a smart man, but you have to stop taking things at face value. There’s a difference between understanding information and accepting it as true. Try not to let my books get to your head so much. Vampires, hah.”

Rather than feeling ashamed or perhaps angry as Ashe would have, Peter seemed untouched by Professor Sharp’s criticism. He simply shrugged his shoulders and handed the professor the book. “Maybe I have been taking these stories too much to heart.”

The professor chuckled to himself. “I’m looking forward to hearing what else you have to say about the book, but for now I’ve got a student here in desperate need of my sage guidance.”

As he gestured back towards Ashe, Peter’s eyes met hers for the first time. They were a confusing green-grey, like storm clouds rolling in on the ocean. If Ashe had been asked to pick the color out of a box of crayons, she would not have been able to complete the task. It was as if the color was alive and constantly changing. She had to force her own amber ones from their tight grip.

Professor Sharpe thanked Peter for the book, opened the door of his office, and stepped inside.

Before Ashe could follow him, Peter said, “Hey, can I borrow your pen?”

Ashe looked at him in confusion and he pointed at the collar of her shirt. She looked down to see her pen hanging where she had put it earlier. Crimson rose in her cheeks, realizing that the weight of the pen had pulled the neckline of her t-shirt a little lower than she would have preferred.

“Yeah, whatever.” She unclipped it and tossed it at Peter, deliberately not returning his gaze.

He caught it deftly in his hand and gave her another killer smile. “Thanks. By the way, don’t let Sharp’s air of intellectualism get to you. He doesn’t know nearly as much as he thinks.”

Peter tucked the borrowed pen in the back pocket of his jeans and set off down the hall. Ashe watched him for a moment before remembering she had a meeting with Professor Sharp. She reluctantly entered his office, still thinking of Peter and wondering how she had never seen him around before.

Peter couldn't get her out of his head. As ridiculous as it was, those few moments outside Professor Sharp’s office were enough for Peter to know that there was a lot more to that girl than met the eye. For one, there was that t-shirt she was wearing, which bore the name of a 60’s occult rock band that most people their age had probably never heard of. The shirt was deeply faded, too, as if it was an original print. There was also the matter of Sharp having to talk to her, meaning she had likely done poorly on her midterm. Peter was glad he wasn’t taking any of Sharp’s classes. The professor could be a hardass, and seemed to forget that the students he was teaching did not have the benefit of six years of graduate school under their belts like he did.

Despite the girl’s t-shirt, and her grades, the girl he’d met in Professor Sharp’s office had seemed quiet and studious. It was almost as if she wanted to blend into the background, like she feared human connection. Peter knew that he too had to be careful around humans, but for entirely different reasons. He was a vampire, and though most did not know of his true nature, he always had to be on guard in case his careful control slipped. Though he had an iron will when it came to keeping others safe from his bloodlust, Peter had a feeling he had just met the girl who could cause him to slip up. Which was a pity because she was beautiful.

Peter strolled around the campus green trying to rid his head of its visions of the girl with the amber eyes. The loud sounds of construction coming from the library did little to distract him from his thoughts. The library was an old, musty building that rose up in three stories over the busy sidewalk. The school was building a new wing onto the existing brick building, and had been for what seemed like ages. The project had been stopped and started countless times as the college president kept using the funding for other endeavors, such as getting a certain high-profile businessman to talk at last year’s commencement. The man seemed to think the student body needed a half hour of motivational speaking more than they needed new books and computers. The businessman had talked of how he had never graduated from college. Peter found the whole thing counterproductive, but then again, his immortality gave him wisdom beyond his apparent 21 years.

A voice from behind finally brought him out of his reverie. It was strangely familiar.

“You’re really fitting in here, aren’t you?”

Peter cringed as a firm hand grasped his shoulder. Though Peter was tall, Landon was a few inches taller, giving him a looming presence that always unnerved Peter. Landon walked with his hand around Peter’s shoulder as if they were old friends, though they were nothing of the sort.

“Are you liking classes? I heard you’ve been a bit slow to make friends. Probably because you don’t belong here.”

“I’m not trying to fit in. We only go wherever the blood goes,” Peter replied.

Landon sneered. “And you just happen to show up on my clan’s doorstep? I don’t think so.”

Peter’s eyes scanned the quad around him for a way out. He did not want to get into a fight with Landon over something as stupid as territorial rights. Vampire clans could get along with each other, quite well in fact, as long as their members weren’t alpha-male dicks. Sadly, Landon’s clan was beset with them.

“My family’s just been back from a bit of a vacation, I guess you could call it,” Landon said. “We were jonesing for some of the fresh stuff and popped out to the country for a feast. It’s amazing how much can go unnoticed in the middle of nowhere.” He smacked his lips as if he had just eaten a delicious meal.

Peter felt sick. He hated vampires like Landon and wanted to get away from him as soon as he could. As Peter weighed his escape options, he happened to notice the girl with amber hair and black t-shirt from Professor Sharp’s office walking towards the library. She had on a pair of large headphones and was looking down at the ground as she walked, seeming to be lost inside her own private world. She was going to pass the unfinished wing and head straight for them. If he could catch her attention again, maybe by returning the pen he had borrowed from her on a whim, he might be able to get her name. But to do that, first he had to get rid of Landon.

“I should get to class,” Peter said.

“Not so fast.” Landon’s grip on Peter tightened. Peter didn’t want to draw attention to the two of them, so he went along.

Landon was steering Peter in the direction of the library. Peter dreaded the thought of Landon setting his sights on the girl. The sounds of hammers banging on metal and the buzz of an electric saw filled Peter’s ears. He had a hard time hearing Landon over the noise.

“What is it you want, anyway?” Landon said into Peter’s ear. “Why’d you come to the city?

Peter raised his voice, “Our blood supplier moved out here. That’s the only reason our family moved. We’re not looking for trouble with your clan.”

Landon let go of Peter and looked at him with curiosity. “Blood supplier? What are his rates?”

Vampires that procured blood for others, through either stealing from blood banks or more nefarious means, were more valuable than gold to the clans they served. But the nature of their work meant that clans had to move from place to place as people started to get suspicious. There was no way Peter was going to let Landon’s family try and take their supplier from them.

He shouted at Landon over the din of construction, “He’s ours. You’ll have to find your own.”

They had just stopped in front of the metal scaffolding covering the face of the new wing of the library. The girl was not far away; though Landon; watching the construction, blocked Peter’s view of her.

Peter followed Landon’s gaze to the workers guiding a crossbeam down from a crane perched above. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked.

Landon gave him a mean smile. “No reason, except that crane’s about to give way.”

Peter had no time to ask Landon what he meant by his words, because already their meaning had become frighteningly clear. Peter heard the loud groan of metal and the snap of thick wires as the crane came free of its moorings. He leapt out of the way, nearly tripping as he cleared the sidewalk and made it a safe distance from the machinery. Landon was nowhere to be seen. Peter knew that he had used his weak precognition gift to lure Peter into a trap.

The beam that the crane had been lowering pitched wildly to the side as the workers shouted for everyone to get out of the way. As Peter looked down the sidewalk, he noticed the girl standing as if frozen to the very spot the crane was about to fall. Her lips were parted in a gasp as she looked up at the swinging beam, but her body seemed unable to obey her mind, which was undoubtedly screaming for her to run.

The crane lurched another few feet towards the sidewalk and Peter dashed towards her without thinking. He grabbed her up in his arms and carried her out of the way. There was a huge crash behind him, the violence of the impact of metal on concrete sending vibrations up Peter’s legs as he lowered the girl back down on a much safer part of the sidewalk. She looked up at him with those amber eyes, their corners glistening as if she were about to cry.

“Th—thank you,” she stuttered.

Peter ran a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry I had to grab you like that. You’re not hurt or anything, are you?” He was glad his fast reflexes had been able to get to her in time.

“No,” the girl shook her head. She was breathing hard, but she looked otherwise unharmed.

“Good. That’s good.”

The girl was looking away from him, instead watching the construction workers as they dealt with the aftermath of the accident. Angry voices drifted their way, but Peter could only think of the girl and the way she had felt in his arms.

“Hey, I still have your pen.” He reached into his back pocket and held it out to her. She took it back with a slight frown. “You remember me, right? From earlier today?” he felt the need to ask.

“Yeah, outside Professor Sharp’s office. Peter,” the girl replied. Peter hadn’t thought she’d been listening to his conversation with the professor, but apparently she had: enough, at least, to remember his name.

Peter replied, “Yeah, but I never got your name.”

“Ashe,” the girl replied.

Peter was worried about the way her arms were shaking. She rubbed them absentmindedly as she watched a passing bicycle. He said, “You’ve had a shock. You should probably sit down somewhere for a while.”

“I’m fine.” The way her eyes kept wandering everywhere but towards him was driving him crazy.

“There’s a café down the street—”

“Thanks for saving me, really, but I’m fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

Peter knew when he was being snubbed. Though the accident had felt almost like fate bringing them together, he did not want to tempt it by pursuing her. After all, she was a human and human blood was his vice. He let her go, for now.

Ashe swept her hair to one side and straightened the headphones around her neck. She seemed to have shaken off the shock of the accident.

“Maybe I’ll see you around then, Ashe,” he called as she turned to walk away from the library.

She made no reply as she left.

Peter watched her go, trying his hardest to figure out just why that girl kept such an impenetrable wall around herself. It was almost like a challenge to him to try and break it, and Peter always liked a good challenge.

Ashe pounded her fist against her pillow. She couldn’t believe her mom was pulling a stunt like this and on a day when things already felt like they were crashing down around her. She looked around her childhood bedroom and its four pink walls that she had not been able to escape even after going to college. Polaroids were pinned to her walls with Ashe’s twelve-year-old smiling face beaming down at her, unaware of the dark times that were to come. She turned her back to them and curled up on her bed, hugging her pillow close to her chest.

She hated that her mom didn’t have the money to allow her to get a place on campus, and that the paychecks from her part-time job ended up paying utilities and gas for her mom’s car. She also hated her flowery comforter and the matching lace curtains and the cream-white antique dresser where she still kept all her clothes. It was almost if her mom had punished her for being born a girl, by making her drown in everything pretty and delicate.

“You were supposed to be our son and you were supposed to go into business. Since you already messed up one of those, the least you can do for me is change your major.”

Her mom was talking to her through the door, but Ashe was in no mood to open it. At least she wasn’t in a yelling mood today.

“It’s too late, mom,” she called back through the door. “I’ve only got two semesters left. I’d never get all the credits in on time.”

Her mom let out a frustrated sigh, loud enough to penetrate the wooden door. “I mean, what are you going to do with a degree in English literature? You’re wasting your time, and my money, and if your father was here he would make you see reason.”

Ashe felt a ball of anger tighten in her chest. She had saved up money all through high school, working every summer since she was sixteen so she could go to college. Ashe wondered just how much of that money her mom supposed was hers.

“Open the door, Ashe. I want us to talk like adults.”

There was never a mature talk when her mother was involved.

“Please, just consider it. For my sake and for yours. You may love those dusty old books of yours now but in the future, they’re not going to do you any good. You’ll be burning the pages for warmth. I’m not going to be able to support you forever, you know.”

Ashe lurched off the bed and opened the door. Her mom stood there with her hands on her hips, the overhead light from the hallway making her red hair look ablaze.

“Are we talking like adults now?” Ashe asked in a biting tone.

Her mom refused to acknowledge her daughter’s sarcasm. “Yes, we are.”

“Since I’m such an adult, wouldn’t you think I’d be able to take responsibility for my own life?”

“Well yes, but—”

Ashe crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her mom withered under her glare, her words fading away into a frustrated silence.

Ashe took the opportunity to get a couple words in. “Maybe I want to go to graduate school, you know? Or maybe I’m planning to work at a publishing company. But how would you know, because all you do is lecture at me about things I should be doing instead. I’m going to be moving out in less than a year. You can’t keep trying to micromanage me for the rest of my life.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t lived enough life to know what’s best for you. You can’t just go off into the world and expect things to work out. You can’t leave me here all alone, you just can’t.”

Ashe stepped back from the door and closed it with her mom still lecturing her from the other side. There was no reasoning with her when she got like this and Ashe knew if she waited long enough her mom would tire out and leave.

Eventually the hallway was quiet again and Ashe was left with some peace and quiet to study. If her mom had wanted her to go into business so badly, why hadn’t she mentioned it three years ago? It was only now that Ashe was getting ready to graduate that she suddenly felt the need to interfere. Ashe could tell that her mother’s issue was not with Ashe’s college major. The issue was that she didn’t want Ashe to move out. She didn’t want to be alone again, not after what had happened.

Ashe flopped back on the bed and reached for her backpack lying against the headboard. She pulled books out until she found the one she was looking for and flipped to an earmarked page, running her finger along the notes written in the margin. She tried to let her mind calm around the words, to escape into the world of literature that she had wrapped around herself like a cocoon to keep out the rest of the world. Her mom’s word’s kept ringing in her head as Ashe twisted and turned on the bed trying to make herself comfortable enough to focus on the words in front of her.

She dug in her backpack for a pen and pulled out the one she had lent to Peter. It jumped from her hand as if alive and rolled along her comforter until it rested against the side of her leg.

Peter.

The name needled her brain like a burr in her sock. She had never seen him on campus before, but today she had run into him twice. Part of her wished she would never see him again, as the feelings his presence awoke in her were foreign to her and more than a little uncomfortable. She knew nothing of him, apart from the few minutes they had spent together, but his hold over her was already too strong. Just the memory of those hands pulling her to safety brought goosebumps to her skin. Not to mention his eyes like storm clouds full of concern for her safety.

He had saved her and that should have counted for something. But Ashe could not bring herself to give him even that much credit. It wasn’t a problem with him so much as that there was a part inside of Ashe that was broken. Years ago, she had told herself she would never trust anyone again. People were the root of the pain of the world. They lied, took advantage of your love, and ultimately left. There was no one for Ashe to trust except herself. She was the only one who would always be there, for better or worse.

Even as she told herself this, a small place in the back of her mind rebelled strongly against the distrust. That was the part that wanted to see Peter again. She picked up the pen and twirled it in her fingers. She wanted to know which of Professor Sharp’s classes Peter was taking and why he had been lent the text for her class. She also wanted to know why, when she hadn’t been able to open her heart to even a friend in the past few years, Peter had suddenly re-awakened the part of her that yearned for the chance to connect to someone again. These feelings fighting in Ashe’s chest were all at once lovely and terrifying. She didn’t know if she should trust them.

CHAPTER 2

The blank face of the mirror stared back at Peter. The useless relic had been left in the old, dusty house by the previous owners and didn’t have any real use for those of his kind. He wished he could have lived on campus like a normal student, but his clan had moved at an odd time in the semester and there were no vacancies available for him in the dorms until next fall. For now, he had to live with his family in a foreclosed house they had bought cheaply from the state. He washed his face in the wide marble basin, but the chill of the water did nothing to make him feel better. The heat he felt was deep within, in a place that had been cold for centuries.

Peter turned off the tap and wiped his face on a towel. He closed the bathroom door behind him before leaving down the hallway. The sight of the empty mirror still unnerved him after all this time and he didn’t want to catch any glimpses of it when passing the open bathroom door. He had thought to remove it, but it was stuck fast to the tile and could not be pried free. Like most of the furniture in the house it had likely been there since the place had been built.

Stacks of moving boxes teetered in the hallway. Though they moved often and had few possessions, there always seemed to be a mess of boxes in the house whenever they moved. What they contained Peter could not say and he feared what he would find if he were to go snooping through them. His older sisters knew more of the family secrets, but Peter was content to let the skeletons stay in the closet. No matter how hard they tried to respect the mortal lives around them, clans as old as his left a trail of bodies behind them. That was why Peter had to be careful not to get too close to Ashe.

He knew that he would only endanger her in the end. If he really came to care for this girl, it would be all the more wrenching were he to slip up and give in to his bloodlust. He had been taught at a young age not only the responsibilities but also the dangers of his condition. He never wanted to hurt someone because of what he was. That was why his clan’s blood supply came from donors. Stolen, of course, but donated nonetheless. Their supplier never harmed a living person in the pursuit of blood. At least, that is what he told them, and Peter had no reason to doubt the man.

He turned from the hallway into the kitchen. The polished wood floor was smooth under his bare feet. He opened one of the dark oak cabinets above the sink and took out a tall glass. There was a dry smudge of red along the rim, which he wiped off on a towel. He opened the refrigerator and took out a pint-bag of blood from the stacks piled on top of the shelves. The label had the blood type in large bold letters, with red print below it: Volunteer Donor. If only they knew what they had been donating for.

The congealed liquid sloshed as Peter held it the bag to the light. It was a bright ruby red, still fresh. He would only need a pint to get him through the day. Older blood took larger doses to get his fill, and the oldest could be deadly. Animal blood could do in a pinch, but more as an emergency measure than a sustainable food source. Although it had been inconvenient to have to move here, Peter was glad his family had a blood supplier they could count on.

Peter pulled the cap off one of the tubes leading out of the bag and let it empty into the glass. He drained the glass in one go, refusing to savor the taste as the liquid slid past his tongue, though it tempted him more than he could describe. He was strong enough to resist the allure of blood, he told himself, and his consumption of it was only for survival. He put the glass in the sink and let the water run over it, washing the evidence of his unwholesome meal down the drain so he wouldn’t have to look at it any longer. He tossed the empty bag in the trashcan. It would go in the incinerator later.

A grandfather clock chimed in the hallway, telling Peter it was time to get to class. It didn’t really matter whether he attended classes or not, but it was important for him to keep up appearances as a normal student until his clan moved on to the next place. The house was silent but for the chiming of the clock. Most of his clan— the elder members including his parents and sisters— would not wake until evening. They slept in the basement where no light would disturb their slumber. Peter grabbed his wool coat from the hook by the door and headed out of the house. The cold never bothered him, but the sun did, and he would get a nasty burn if he were not careful. Luckily the day was overcast and he did not run a high risk of exposure. Still, he wrapped the dark fabric close around himself as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Landon was waiting for Peter at the curb, leaning against Peter’s car like he owned it. His pitch-black hair was slicked back almost as if he were trying to emulate the stereotypes his kind suffered at the hands of popular culture. The only difference was that the sides of his head were shaved close and he had on a light sweater instead of a cape.

Peter wondered how long it would be before Landon tired of his games.

“It’s good to see you... alive,” Landon smiled as Peter approached. He moved off the car to let Peter get to the driver’s side door, but Peter had no intention of driving to school. He liked the brisk fifteen-minute walk into the city as a way to clear his head before entering the human world. It was all too easy to get caught up in the old-world ways of thinking when everyone around you was a vampire. Landon noticed Peter’s change of direction and jogged to keep up.

“Not talking today?” Landon asked.

Peter ignored him.

“I heard about you being a hero. Saved some girl from being crushed into the sidewalk. Does she mean something to you, or was it just a random act of kindness?”

Peter didn’t like Landon talking about Ashe, not even in passing.

“I’m going to take that silence as a confession.”

“I wasn’t going to stand by and let someone get killed.”

Landon nodded as if he understood Peter’s sentiments, but Peter knew the man had not a single altruistic bone in his body.

“Hey, if you’re saving her for later I’ll back off,” Landon said. “Just make sure you drain her, not turn her. This town has already got enough of our kind. In fact, it’s feeling a little crowded these days.”

“I may be new around here, but I’m not going to let you use this college as your playground,” Peter warned. “That stunt with the crane could have brought a lot of unwanted attention our way.”

Landon laughed derisively. “You think you’re going to tell me how to do things? I think you’ve forgotten who’s new here. My clan’s been in this city forever and we’ve never had any trouble. Humans are slow, stupid. They’re to us as cows are to them. Generations of them live and die in the time it takes us to age a couple of years. New ones replace the dead faster than we can drain them.”

Peter tried to control his rage, to keep himself from punching Landon. It was the hubris of immortality that fueled his words. Peter knew just how special human lives were and how even the shortest ones were filled with wonders a bloodsucker like Landon would never understand. Sometimes Peter wished he knew how it felt to have warm blood pumping through his veins and to hear the beat of his heart in his chest. It must have been exhilarating for someone like Ashe just to wake up every day.

As they approached campus Peter slowed. He was trying to think of the places that Ashe wouldn’t be, but he knew too little about her to make any deductions. Though he doubted she would try to come and talk to him, especially after the coldness of her departure after the accident, he didn’t want to take any risks. He didn’t trust the flame that had awakened inside of him as soon as he had met her for the first time. Its burn reminded him that passion ruled reason and a momentary slip could have fatal consequences.

“I’ll see you later,” Landon said as he stopped in front of the art history building. “Be careful of falling construction equipment.” Peter was glad to see the back of him.

Peter hurried along to his own lecture hall and ducked inside the building like a thief. He wondered if he would have to be on his guard every day until the end of the school year. The idea seemed exhausting. At least he knew he was safe in class. He tried to focus on the professor’s words droning through the lecture hall rather than the memory of Ashe’s body pressed against his.

Ashe sat in the stiff armchair in Professor Sharp’s office. Bookshelves towered over the back of the professor’s chair. Most of the book’s spines were well-creased and fading with age. She pushed the sleeves of her sweater up over her forearms, feeling uncomfortable in the overly warm office. The professor seemed unperturbed by the temperature.

His glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose as he studied Ashe’s essay. His lips moved in motion with her words, and every once in a while, he would sigh or nod his head. After he had finished with the last page, his eyes snapped up to hers and he leaned back in his chair, folding his fingers over the paper.

“Your ideas are good but they have no conviction, no substance. Did you read the books I recommended to you?”

Ashe gave a noncommittal shrug. She was having a hard time focusing on Professor Sharp’s words, as questions about Peter swirled in her head. She thought she had seen him outside the student café, but he had disappeared before Ashe could cross the quad.

“Why are you taking this class, anyway?”

“It was a requirement for my major,” she answered without pause.

“Which is?” Professor Sharp asked.

“English literature.” After the angry words exchanged with her mom, Ashe found that having to say her major aloud left a bad taste in her mouth. It sounded weak. Even worse, she knew the professor was already aware of her major. By feigning ignorance, he was almost poking fun at her inability to keep up with the readings in class.

Professor Sharp pushed his glasses up and squinted through them at Ashe. She knew he was over-exaggerating his actions on purpose, to try and lighten the mood, but it all came across as patronizing. She didn’t need the professor telling her, for the second time in as many days, that she was not putting her full effort into her studies.

“We’re a little more than halfway through the semester now, and if you’re serious about graduating you need to show it.”

“I’m serious,” Ashe said. “I mean, I want to graduate. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Professor Sharp nodded. His expression softened. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You just need a little push, which is why I’ve arranged a tutor for you.”

There was a knock on the door. Ashe was glad for the interruption.

“That would be the tutor, I believe,” the professor said. “Come in,” he called to the person at the door.

Ashe sank down further in the armchair. She wanted to be invisible. She did not want to be chained for the semester to some student whose job it was to tell her how lazy she was.

The door opened and Peter stepped into the room. Ashe quickly straightened herself up in her chair and tried to control the nervous butterflies in her stomach. She should have known, after Peter’s conversation with the professor, that he would be the one assigned as her tutor. Though she had been daydreaming of running into him again, she had not anticipated being brought together like this. It was too sudden.

“You said I was supposed to meet you about a job,” Peter said. “If you’re busy with another student I can come back later.” His hand was already on the doorknob and he looked ready to leave.

The professor waved him inside. “Yes, I have a job for you. Miss Linfield here is in need of a tutor.”

“I can’t,” Peter said quickly. Ashe almost breathed a sigh of relief, but she didn’t know why. She couldn’t decide how she felt about him.

Professor Sharp’s face turned stern. “You may have just transferred here, but you’re the only student who knows the syllabus for my European mythology class. Miss Linfield has only a couple of semesters to graduate and if she can’t make it her four years here will have gone to waste.”

Peter’s brow furrowed as he considered the professor’s words. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Good, good.” Professor Sharp said with a satisfied smile. He reached into the drawer of his desk and took out a stack of old books. He slid the stack across the desk to Peter. “In case you need your own copy for reference, though from our talks I have a feeling you’ve got these all memorized by heart.”

Peter gave only the hint of a smile at the professor’s compliment. His eyebrows were still furrowed in concern. Ashe wanted to apologize for being an inconvenience to him, if that was the case, but her throat felt dry and she had no words to say. Peter took the books from the desk and tucked them under his arm.

“Do you have class now?” Peter asked Ashe, the first words he had directed towards her since walking in. They held none of the gentle warmth of yesterday’s introduction.

Ashe shook her head. “Not until evening.”

“Then let’s go.” Peter nodded at her to follow him out of the office.

Ashe couldn’t help but notice the satisfied smile on the professor’s face as she left.

Peter walked briskly through the hallway and Ashe struggled to keep up. “You think you could slow down?” she said to his back.

“From what the professor told me, you’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he replied. Ashe didn’t like his tone. It was cold, almost condescending.

“Hey,” she said. “If this is about yesterday, I’m sorry. I was shaken up by the accident and I’m not good at getting along with people anyway. But I’m not as bad a student as the professor made me out to be. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Let’s humor the professor for a little while, at least. Might be that your grades go up after all.”

Ashe couldn’t stand the way he was talking to her. She wanted to prove him wrong about her, but knew that her bluff would be called as soon as they started studying. She was way behind on her readings and needed time to cram before their first tutoring session. That way she could show him up and prove that she didn’t need his help after all.

“If you still want to get that coffee, I’d be glad to go with you,” she said, hoping to distract him from getting any actual studying done.

Peter stopped and turned, his pale face locked between a frown and a smile. He brushed the hair back from his forehead. “First let’s get your grades back up, okay? Then we’ll talk about coffee.”

He had stopped right in front of an alcove in the hallway containing a low table and several armchairs. Peter gestured for Ashe to sit and took the chair across from hers. He tossed his books onto the table. They fell into a jumbled mess and Ashe felt sick just looking at all of the unread pages. She had not done an ounce of work in two months.

Peter leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled midway and Ashe could see the thick veins of his forearms pulsing blood from his muscles. His skin was so pale that she could even make out the blue hue of the oxygen-deprived blood.

“Your problem isn’t these books,” Peter said. “The professor said you’re a literature major. You like to read.”

Ashe had been hoping Peter was maybe going to hang around while she caught up on her reading and look over her essays before they were due, but apparently he was taking things very seriously. Though he couldn’t have been any older than Ashe, there was something about him that seemed old, like he understood far more of life than Ashe could ever hope to.

Ashe sighed. “It’s just that the professor wants us to talk about these myths like they’re a part of history, like they’re real. I don’t mean what you were saying about vampires being real flesh and blood, but he wants us to think that people actually believed in this stuff back in the day. But it’s all so ridiculous. Even in the Middle Ages, people must have had better sense than that. At least in my literature classes everyone knows the stuff we’re reading is fiction.”

Peter smiled. It was a knowing smile that Ashe didn’t like. She felt silly for opening her mouth and saying the truth. He probably thought she was an idiot.

“You have a point,” Peter replied.

“Then why are you smiling like that?” Ashe didn’t want to start a fight, but she felt the anger bubbling up inside of her nevertheless.

Peter leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “You seem so sure none of this is real, but how can you be? Does the fact that you’ve never seen something mean it doesn’t exist?”

“Well, no, but—” Ashe started. She didn’t know why she was even arguing with him about this. It had nothing to do with getting her grades up. All she wanted was enough motivation to study for the stupid class.

“At least you can accept that a lot of these myths have origins in the truth,” Peter said. He grabbed a book up off the table and flipped through the pages. “See, this woodcut print from the fifteenth century for example.”

The print showed a man in robes feasting beside a mass of bodies impaled on wooden spikes. The image made Ashe look away.

“Vlad the Impaler was a real prince who was imprisoned for his cruelty. Of course; now people associate him with the origins of Dracula, but even when he was alive, people were publishing stories about him, some more verifiable than others. A real person, turned into myth. And he’s not the only one.”

As Peter spoke, his eyes lit with a passion that seemed to make the dark circles under his eyes fade away. It was clear he enjoyed the subject, and Ashe found herself getting swept up as well. Maybe by studying harder, Ashe could get closer to Peter and find out what made him tick.

Peter tossed the book down. “Think you can give it a try?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ashe shrugged with an indifferent look. She didn’t want to seem too eager.

A melancholy piano melody drifted through the maze-like corridor containing practice rooms on the first floor of the music building. Peter peered into one room after another, startling a cello player in the midst of a solo and an oboist who nearly dropped her instrument. Peter stuttered out apologies each time, growing less and less confident about finding Ashe. She had messaged him telling him to meet her in the music building, but Peter didn’t even know what instrument she played and so couldn’t locate her by sound.

The tutoring lessons had been going well so far. Ashe was starting to pick up the motivation she sorely needed and though she seemed to resent Peter’s very presence, she was at least listening to his instruction. Her combative, indifferent nature did little to help Peter fight his attraction for her, however. If anything, it made him all the more curious about what was really inside. He sensed a lot of pain and distrust in her heart, and his own caring nature yearned to heal her. But the predatory side of him knew it was only a matter of time before he did something irreversible that would shatter her life into a million bleeding pieces. He had to keep a lid on his attraction.

After exhausting every practice room, even the ones with no light on inside, Peter still hadn’t found Ashe. The haunting piano music continued. It drew Peter up a flight of stairs and into the performance hall above. Sitting at the sleek black grand piano on stage was Ashe, her fingers picking out the melody that sounded all at once archaic and achingly familiar. Her auburn hair was brushed back over one shoulder and the overhead stage lights illuminated the soft contours of her face. Peter held his breath, worried that even the slightest sound from him would break the beauty of the scene.

Ashe suddenly banged hard on the keys and groaned. She snatched up the sheet music from the stand on the piano and squinted at the yellowing pages. She took a pencil from the stand and scribbled something onto the page, muttering to herself under her breath as she did so. After putting the sheet music back down, she resumed playing, though her fingers were more hesitant and the melody was halting and piecemeal.

Peter came up behind her on the stage as she continued to struggle with the music. He could see that the last few bars on the second page were practically unreadable due to the sheer age of the paper they were printed on. Ashe had tried to fill in the missing notes on her own, her pencil renderings a hasty scrawl that was almost as hard to read as the original faded notes.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and the music stopped. The feeling of her warm shoulder under his fingers sent chills up his arm. He shouldn’t have touched her, but he couldn’t help it. The temptation had been too strong.

Ashe looked up at him as though she had been caught doing something wrong. She snatched the sheet music from the piano and hastily got up from the bench.

“What time is it?” Ashe asked.

“Three-thirty. You said to meet you here.”

Ashe held the sheet music behind her back. Peter couldn’t help commenting on it. “Is it for a class?” He gestured at the papers.

“No,” Ashe shook her head. “I found them upstairs. But the melody’s incomplete. I doubt anyone’s looked at them in ages.”

So Ashe liked classical music. He was slowly piecing together an image of her and the more he found out the more he liked.

“So are we going to study, or are you just going to smile at me all afternoon?” Ashe said.

Peter coughed nervously, embarrassed that his emotion had shown on his face like that. He didn’t want Ashe getting any ideas that he was interested in her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back if she started to reciprocate his hidden feelings for her.

“I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t know you played the piano. It’s nice.”

The corner of Ashe’s mouth curled up just enough to reveal a small dimple in her cheek. It was the closest thing to a smile she had given him since they met. He added dimples to the list of things he knew about her. He wished he could see her laugh.

“Come on,” Ashe said, leaning down to pick up her backpack from the stage floor. “There’s a place nearby we can study. I finished my essay a day early so you can look it over. I don’t think the professor’s going to like it very much, but I’ll get better by the end of the semester.”

Ashe led Peter out of the performance hall and into a large storage room across the way. It was stacked high with boxes of what looked like junk to Peter. A strong musty smell pervaded the room, reminding Peter of his family’s new house. It was a good thing his lungs did not require air and he could hold his breath indefinitely.

A metal-runged ladder was set into the far wall. Ashe took hold of the rungs and hoisted herself up. Peter wondered where she could possibly be taking him. She had said she wanted to study, not take a dive off the rooftop. He hesitated to follow her.

“You coming?” Ashe called down from above. She had just pushed open the trapdoor leading to the roof.

Peter looked up and immediately regretted it. Ashe’s black jeans were skin-tight and from his perspective below he could see the perfect shape of her backside. He gulped and averted his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” he said, though he waited until Ashe was over the lip of the doorway before following her up. He didn’t want the view of her distracting him.

The rooftop was a wide, flat expanse of concrete looking out over the campus. Across the quad Peter could see the bell tower of the cathedral. The sight of it made him sick and he turned away.

Ashe was already sitting near the edge of the rooftop. There was a stack of books by her side and her coat lay discarded a little ways off.

“What, do you live here or something?” Peter joked trying to get another smile out of her.

Ashe rolled her eyes. “It’s quiet up here. My house isn’t.”

Peter settled down onto the concrete near her and crossed his legs in front of him. He was glad it was an overcast day because the exposure on the rooftop would have given him no place to hide from the sun. He pushed his dark bangs down over his brow, just in case.

“You don’t live in the dorms either?” he asked.

Ashe shook her head. “Couldn’t afford it. I have to live with my mom.”

“Me too,” Peter said. “My whole family. Since I transferred late, there was no room for me in the dorms until next year.”

“You’re a junior, then,” Ashe replied. “You’re younger than me but I’m the one getting tutored. Professor Sharp can be a real ass sometimes.”

Peter didn’t know why Ashe was always so hard on herself. She clearly had a lot going for herself, but her lack of confidence was holding her back. Peter scooted a little closer.

“I tend to move around a lot. That’s the only reason I’m still a junior. Not all the credits transfer between schools. I’ve probably taken twice as many classes as you by now. It’s an unfair advantage, really.”

“How old are you?”

Peter paused. Lies didn’t come easily to him, even small ones. He preferred avoiding the subject altogether. He knew his lies were to protect others, but it felt slimy to him to take advantage of someone’s good faith. Lying came easily to people like Landon.

“How old do I look?” Peter finally replied.

Ashe studied his face critically. “Twenty-two, twenty-three? But you seem old, like my grandfather.”

Peter exaggerated a frown. “Thanks,” he replied sarcastically.

“It was a compliment,” Ashe said quietly, looking down at the book in her lap. Peter realized she really meant it. She was probably trying to say that he seemed mature for his age; someone who seemed to have the wisdom from life experience that young people tended to lack. If only Ashe knew the real story, Peter thought.

“Hey,” Peter said. “I’m sorry. I was just joking with you. I took no offense, honest.”

Ashe turned the page in her book, though Peter knew she wasn’t actually reading. “It’s fine. I already know I’m terrible at talking to people. I don’t know why you’re even trying to get along with me. Professor Sharp never said we had to be friends.”

Before Peter could even think to restrain himself, he reached out and cupped his hand to her cheek, drawing her gaze up into his. He could feel her pain through her words and wanted to make it go away. He leaned in to kiss her, watching her eyes close just before he closed his own. The scent of her blood was strong, even through her skin. Peter felt intoxicated with the idea of it being so close to his lips.

There was a bang and a shout and Ashe reeled back from Peter’s touch. Peter whipped around to see the angry face of one of the music professors glaring at them from the entrance to the rooftop.

“Who gave you permission to be up here?” the professor shouted.

Ashe started gathering up her things as Peter stood.

The professor hoisted his thick middle over the lip of the doorway and stood panting with his hands on his hips. His maroon sweater had snagged somewhere along the way to the rooftop and a jagged tear had opened up exposing the white shirt underneath. His face was beet-red with fury.

“No students allowed on the roof!” he shouted.

The professor looked ready to wring Peter’s neck, but Peter wasn’t worried about getting in trouble. He figured someone this angry with a couple of students on the roof was also the one in charge of the building’s keys. If the two of them got in trouble for trespassing, the professor in the maroon sweater would also have to take responsibility. The biggest inconvenience was having his kiss interrupted, though that may have been for the best. Peter didn’t know if he could have resisted biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Peter shrugged apologetically. “The door was unlocked. Whose fault was that?”

“Just go back downstairs,” the professor spat, pointing a thick finger down the ladder. He looked about ready to have a heart attack. He watched the two through beady eyes as they left the roof. He closed the door after them and locked it with a thick padlock.

“No more going where you don’t belong,” the professor warned with a waggle of his finger before turning to leave.

Peter smiled at Ashe. “Do you think we should tell him his sweater’s got a hole in it?” he asked loudly enough for the professor to hear.

To Peter’s surprise, Ashe smiled back. It was a full smile this time, the expression lighting up her face like a spotlight on stage. Peter felt weak in the knees. It was getting harder and harder to keep his urges under control. Even worse, he felt a strong thirst for warm blood.

CHAPTER 3      

The day was blustery and bleak, the late November sky threatening to let loose a torrent of rain. Ashe tucked the ends of her striped scarf into her coat to keep them from flying wildly in the wind. She was on her way home from a stressful day of classes and wanted nothing more than a hot cup of tea and a bath, if her mom allowed it. The insufferable woman didn’t seem to realize that her drawn-out showers used much more hot water than it took to fill the bathtub.

A young man nodded at Ashe as she turned onto the street that marked the edge of campus. He wore a sweater and slim jeans and his sleek black hair was combed straight back. Ashe didn’t know him, though she thought she had seen him around campus a few times. She assumed he was just giving her a friendly greeting as a fellow student of the college. She didn’t bother to nod back, instead turning the volume on her headphones even louder. The sudden crashing cymbals of the Tchaikovsky symphony she was listening to made her ears ring, but at least it was enough to distract her from her surroundings. Maybe Peter wasn’t so bad, but Ashe was not about to start making friends all over campus, as much as Professor Sharp may have wanted her to.

Speaking of Peter, Ashe had not seen him around the past few days. She should have expected it on Saturday and Sunday since Peter; like Ashe, lived off campus and had no reason to be there on the weekend. Ashe herself had spent the days off working double shifts at a bookstore near campus. But today was Monday and Ashe should have seen Peter. Since becoming her tutor, not a day had passed since he had at least stopped by to say hello and check up on her homework. She had tried messaging him between classes but so far, she had no replies. Maybe he was sick. His hand on her cheek on Friday had been as cold as if he had just stepped out of an ice bath. Or maybe he was avoiding her.

The memory of their almost-kiss sent a fresh wave of excitement through Ashe. If only the pot-bellied professor hadn’t come in at just the wrong time. Maybe Peter felt awkward about it and was giving her some space. To add insult to injury, the professor had padlocked the only way up to the roof, leaving Ashe without her favorite place to get away from it all. Because of this, she had started spending more time at home, which meant the tension with her mother was reaching fever pitch. It also didn’t help that her mom had gotten wind of Ashe having a tutor. It didn’t matter to her that Ashe’s grades had been going up since Peter started helping her. In fact, Professor Sharp had praised her for her last essay. It was a small satisfaction that made Ashe feel like she could actually succeed at something for once.

Ashe stopped at the crooked mailbox at the end of the driveway to her house. She pulled it open, not really expecting any mail. The only things they ever received were flyers for new shops opening up in the city and bills that needed paying. Inside was a white envelope with the school’s seal printed in green on the front. It was addressed to Ashe. She tore open the envelope as she went up the driveway, pausing at the front door to read what was inside.

It was a notice of incomplete payment for the semester’s tuition bill. Apparently it wasn’t the first one they had sent. Her mom must have been throwing them away, or hiding them, afraid that Ashe would find them and be upset.

Ashe was beyond upset. She was furious. She wrenched open the front door and slammed it behind her. It was one thing for her mom to be concerned about Ashe moving out, but it was another to try to sabotage her chances of graduating on time. If the bill remained unpaid at the end of the semester, Ashe would not only lose her credits for her classes but also a place at the school. She wouldn’t get her degree, or be able to move out, or spend any more time with Peter. She knew he would find someone better than her, someone with a future ahead of her and not bogged down by her domineering parent.

“Mom!” Ashe yelled into the quiet house.

A faint voice replied from the kitchen, “In here.”

Ashe threw her backpack to the floor and stomped into the kitchen. Her mom was sitting at the small round table in the center of the room reading a magazine. She barely looked up when Ashe entered.

“What the hell is this?” Ashe held the late-payment notice from her college in her shaking fist.

Her mom looked up. The thin wire reading glasses she wore were perched at the end of her nose. They made her look ten years older than her age. “I don’t know, hon. What is it?”

“The school says we didn’t pay all of the tuition for this semester. This is the final notice.” Ashe wanted to throw the papers in her mom’s face. She satisfied herself with throwing them on the table instead.

Her mom’s face reddened as she refused to look at the papers. “Now Ashe, you have to understand—”

“It’s the final notice. If we don’t pay they’ll kick me out. I’ve been trying really hard to get my grades up this semester and I don’t want it all to be for nothing!” Ashe was near tears, her mom’s seeming unconcern with the situation frustrating her beyond measure.

“Maybe you could pick up another couple of shifts at your work,” her mom said, acting like this was all somehow Ashe’s fault.

“I’m a student. I don’t have time. I already work full-time on weekends. Any more and I won’t be able to keep up with my classes.”

“Well I can’t make money out of thin air. You know that. If you have to leave school for a while, it may be for the best. You can work for a while, save some money, and when you’re ready you can go back to finish your degree.”

Ashe put her hands on her hips. “So we don’t have the money, or do you just not want to pay it?”

Ashe’s mom stood and tried to give Ashe’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. The gold bangles on her thin wrist clanked together as Ashe shrugged off her mom’s gesture of apology. Ashe then crossed her arms in front of her chest as a shield against any further attempts at a truce.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” her mother replied. “But I don’t know if it’s the best thing for you right now. Graduating, I mean. I don’t know if you’ll be able to take care of yourself out there in the real world.”

Ashe was disgusted. Her mom had basically admitted to withholding tuition money just to keep Ashe around longer. She hated being manipulated like that, especially by someone she thought she could trust. Worst of all, her mom didn’t think she was responsible enough to take care of herself after college. Her mom was telling her that she was still a child.

“I’m leaving you and there’s nothing you can do about it!” Ashe shouted. “You never were my parent, not after Dad left anyway, and I’ve always had to look after myself. You’re the one who’s going to be struggling once I leave, not me.”

Ashe’s mom put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Ashe wondered if maybe she had gone too far this time, but her rage told her that she had said what needed saying.

“You know I’m trying as hard as I can,” her mom said. “I can’t do any more.”

Ashe grabbed the papers from the table and stormed upstairs to her room without another word. She would figure this out on her own. She had to. As always, the only one Ashe could trust was herself.

Her mom didn’t try to follow her upstairs, though Ashe had been expecting her to. Arguments in the Linfield house often ended through the slamming of doors.

Ashe crumpled to the floor by her bed and let her tears fall freely. Disappointment wasn’t anything new to her, but that didn’t mean the pain got any easier to bear each time. Usually in times like these Ashe would retreat further into herself, trying to escape from those wanting to do her harm, but today she wanted companionship. She wanted to know she wasn’t alone and that there was someone willing to share a part of the burden, however small. But the only person she was even remotely close to was Peter.

Ashe debated calling him as she wiped the hot tears from her cheeks. She wasn’t looking to spill her heart out to him, but rather to simply ease the feeling of being so alone. However, admitting that she even needed his companionship was a high hurdle for Ashe to leap over.

Finally, she bit the bullet and called him. His phone rang for a long time, and Ashe was about to hang up when his voice finally came on the line.

“Ashe?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she replied. Her voice was croaky from crying. “I didn’t see you at school today and I wanted to see if you’re maybe free for that coffee you keep promising to buy me.”

Peter chuckled, though even over the phone Ashe could tell it was half-hearted. Maybe he was sick.

“It’s almost dark,” he replied.

Ashe didn’t know what that had to do with anything. College students drank coffee at all hours of the day and night.

“Dinner, then?” she offered instead. She hoped it didn’t sound like she was asking him out for a date. “I just really need to get out of the house for a while, and I don’t want to be on my own,” she added to clarify.

There was a long silence, but finally Peter said, “Yeah, I’ve got dinner plans later but I can meet you for a little while. Let’s meet at the café by the library. I can be there in half an hour.”

Ashe allowed herself the briefest of smiles as she put down her phone, relieved that Peter wasn’t trying to avoid her after all. He had just been busy. Though the hard part of her heart told her to stay on guard, that she didn’t know Peter well enough to start guessing at his intentions, the almost childish crush she had on him was nudging her to ignore her inhibitions and give him a chance.

She fixed her hair and put on fresh eyeliner before leaving the house. She wished her eyes were not so red from the crying, but there was nothing she could do about that. Her mom was nowhere to be seen as Ashe hurried down the stairs to the front door, so Ashe took the keys from the bowl by the door and tossed them into her bag. She also pocketed a red tube of lipstick that she found rattling in the bottom of the bowl, not yet sure if she wanted to use it or not.

The wind had picked up even harder in the short time Ashe had been inside the house. Dark clouds swirled overhead. She kept expecting rain for days now but the clouds had not broken yet. To most people, such clouds would have seemed like a bad omen, but they did not bother her. They reminded Ashe of Peter’s eyes. If anything, they seemed to be encouraging her, and if she was lucky, that kiss from Peter would soon be hers.

Peter tucked his phone into his coat pocket before throwing it over his shoulders. “I’m going out,” he yelled down into the basement.

“Bring back some blood, will you? I’m starving.” One of his elder sisters, Vanessa, had just left her bedroom and was coming up the stairs toward Peter. She was in a midnight blue bathrobe and slippers, looking as if she had just stepped out of the spa of some five-star hotel, when in fact she had just stepped out of a dark musty wardrobe that was functioning as her bed until the new mattresses arrived. Agatha, a mere couple of decades older than Vanessa, soon joined her from the adjoining room. Both of them had the same long, inky hair and slender figure. Their eyes were bluer than their brother; having been fathered by a different vampire centuries ago.

The older vampires got, the more photosensitive they became. At a couple hundred years, Peter’s sisters were just getting to that age where they preferred to sleep through the day and come out at night. Peter still had a half-century yet before he would need to become nocturnal like them.

Peter tried to ignore Vanessa, not wanting to keep Ashe waiting by going on pointless errands for the family. “There are plenty of bags in the refrigerator. You can drink those until I get more from David. He’s supposed to have the new blood sometime this week.”

His sisters followed him stubbornly as he crossed the hall to the entrance of the house.

“Can’t you meet him earlier?” Agatha whined. “Penelope had some new friends over last night and they drained half the supply.”

Peter sighed. Penelope was the oldest of his three sisters and she had by far the largest appetite for blood. In days long past she used to bathe in it, claiming it preserved a lifelike glow. Peter had always been too polite to point out that Penelope looked just as dead as the rest of them, blood baths or no. He was glad his eldest sister was still sleeping.

“I can’t. I’m going out. If you want more blood you can get it yourself.” Peter escaped out the door before any more words could be said. He could hear his sisters yelling angrily after him through the door.

The sun was just setting, but its last rays were almost entirely obscured by thick clouds. It appeared to Peter as little more than a hazy strip of light over the dark skyline of the city. He thought of Ashe, the feel of her cheek against his palm, and the kiss they nearly shared. He breathed in a deep lungful of the crisp evening air, training them back into movement before he re-entered the world of the living. If his heart could still beat, it would be thudding violently against his ribcage. He didn’t know what he was doing, agreeing to meet Ashe after nearly losing his control once, but she had sounded like she really needed someone right now.

The buildings grew taller as Peter got closer to campus. The quad was probably the only patch of green in the entire city, like an oasis in the middle of a concrete desert. Construction had stilled on the new wing of the library; the dean having decided it was too dangerous in wake of the crane accident and postponing it for the summer months when fewer students would be on campus. The whole area was still roped off with yellow caution tape.

Peter skirted the remains of the accident and continued down the street towards the café. Warm light came from the windows and Peter could see Ashe sitting at a small table looking out towards the street. She already had a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. Peter waved as he approached and she smiled back.

Inside the scent of roasting coffee beans overpowered Peter’s sense of smell. He had learned to tolerate the various smells of food and drinks, but sometimes they could still make him sick. Luckily, as a perpetual college student, Peter was used to being around coffee all the time and felt no ill effects. He settled into the chair opposite Ashe.

“Are you going to order something?” Ashe asked him.

Peter shook his head. “If I have coffee now, I won’t be able to sleep.”

Ashe replied, “They’ve got decaf, you know. The cookies are good too.”

Peter shrugged. “Not really in the mood.”

Ashe’s eyes narrowed, almost as if she was suspicious of his answer. Peter had to remind himself that there was no way she could know he was a vampire. He tried to relax. He noticed that Ashe’s eyelids were puffy and the whites of her eyes were tinged with red.

“You’ve been crying,” Peter said leaning over the table and holding his chin in his hand. He would have said anything to get away from the subject of why he wasn’t ordering anything.

Ashe put her hand to her eye as if to wipe away the ghosts of the tears that she had shed. Peter wondered if maybe he had said the wrong thing.

“It’s nothing, just family crap,” she said. “I don’t want to bore you with the history of my dysfunctional relationship with my mom.”

Peter reassured her, “I don’t mind listening if you feel like talking. I’m no stranger to family problems.”

Ashe’s eyes glistened with fresh tears and Peter reached his hand out to grasp hers on the table.

“For example,” Peter started. “My father. He sleeps all day and leaves most of the day-to-day responsibilities to me. It’s only when it comes to the big decisions that he’s suddenly back in charge.” Ashe didn’t need to know that his father slept during the day due to necessity of his vampiric condition.

“At least you have a father,” Ashe said. “At least he stays even if he’s not all that involved. Mine left me when I was thirteen. No explanation, no forwarding address, just an empty closet and my mother sobbing on the bedroom floor.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said. He squeezed her fingers tight in his.

A tear bubbled on Ashe’s lower eyelashes. Peter wanted to wipe it away for her but restrained himself.

“He was a good father, too.” Ashe said quietly, her voice cracking. “I maybe could have understood if he and my mom had fought a lot, or if he had some vice like drinking or gambling that had clouded his judgment and caused him to abandon his family. But he was always there for us, up until the day he wasn’t.”

Ashe’s tears tumbled down her cheeks as Peter watched her, unsure of what to do. Ashe continued to talk. “You know, I think he left us for something better. Why else would he have left without any clues? My mom’s nothing special and I sure as hell wasn’t enough to keep him around. My mom always reminds me how they’d wanted a son and then I came along like a slap in the face. My dad was a businessman and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. But all I wanted to do was read books and play music. Maybe if I’d been a better daughter he wouldn’t have left.”

“This isn’t on you,” Peter said. “I’m sure your dad loved you and still does wherever he is. Sometimes people leave, but it’s not your fault.” His heart felt heavy with the weight of her words. He had no idea how much pain there really was inside of her. He wanted to give her a reassuring hug, but the café table was in the way.

Ashe wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of a napkin. “Thank you,” was all she said, in a voice close to a whisper.

Peter thought she looked stunning, even with her eyeliner smudged from the crying. The bright rock music playing over the café speakers seemed at odds with the entire scene. He wanted to be someplace else, alone with Ashe.

Ashe took a few uneasy gulps from her mug, draining it. When she set it back down it clattered against the table. Peter could see her hands were shaking.

“You want to see a picture of him?” Ashe asked suddenly. “It’s stupid, but I still keep one with me. I keep thinking that if I ever see him again I’ll shove the picture in his face and demand that he give answers to why he left his thirteen-year-old daughter all those years ago.”

She rummaged in her bag for a while before pulling out a photograph, which was folded in half. The deep wear on the crease made it obvious that she had opened the photo to look at on more than a few occasions.

Peter took the photo from her and his jaw dropped. To the right of the smiling young girl with auburn hair and light eyes was a man Peter recognized all too well. He was David, the vampire who supplied blood to Peter’s clan. There was no mistaking the curly hair turning grey at the temples, nor the square jaw and good-humored smile.

Peter tried to mask his surprise with a neutral expression so that Ashe wouldn’t notice it. He couldn’t have Ashe finding out that her father was a vampire, or that he had just moved into the same town she went to college in. But if he had run out on them almost a decade ago, why was he back now? Had he assumed his family wouldn’t recognize him, or that they had moved elsewhere in the time he had been gone? Peter felt a pang of worry in his gut. David was playing a dangerous game.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere more quiet,” Peter said suddenly, handing the photograph back to Ashe.

She took it back and tucked it into the side pocket of her bag. “The roof’s locked,” Ashe replied, her voice still lacking the bite it usually had.

Peter tried to smile to lighten the mood, though his facial muscles felt like they were straining against an impossible weight. He would need time to process everything that had just come to light. “The roof’s not the only quiet place on campus. Let me show you where I like to go and think.”

Ashe nodded and the two of them left the warm café for the quickly darkening street. The wind howled through the gaps between buildings, but Peter was not bothered by the cold and Ashe did not seem phased by it either, though she clutched his arm in hers as they walked. Peter imagined he could feel her body’s heat even through the layers of fabric between them. A low rumble growled in his stomach. In spite of everything, he was starting to feel hungry.

The college had a small plot behind the cathedral dedicated to the founders of the school and his family. This is where Peter wanted to take Ashe, not as some strange nod to his vampiric secret, but rather because he knew Ashe liked old things and might be able to appreciate the cemetery as he did. While Peter was unable to enter the cathedral itself, he had no problem haunting the graveyard. After all, he was one of the dead, and he felt a strange sense of calm among the stark gravestones and memorials to people from a long-ago era. Many of the gravestones showed birth dates after Peter’s. It made him feel both old and important, as he was one of the few who had personally witnessed over a hundred-year’s history and still existed to recall it.

“Isn’t it a bit, well, morbid?” Ashe said as they entered the cemetery grounds.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “It’s quiet, and no one ever bothers me here. You might think you’re the only one who gets tired of all the people around you, but sometimes I like to be alone too.”

Ashe looked at him as if she were trying to figure him out. Peter hoped she wouldn’t try too hard, as there was a lot he could never tell her. He almost wished he could reveal his true nature to her, but no good ever came of vampires getting too invested in the human world.

She suddenly pulled Peter close, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her head to his chest. He hoped she wouldn't notice his lack of heartbeat, or the way his dry lungs fluttered awkwardly in his chest.

“Thank you,” she said, for the second time. Peter hugged her close, an instinctive reaction he had no time to fight. He could smell the clean shampoo scent of her hair, but below that was the unmistakable trace of blood.

“You’re the only one who has ever really paid attention to me, who listens when I talk rather than just waiting to tell me I’m wrong.”

Peter was starting to feel a little light-headed. He had to force his breaths out. He gently nudged Ashe away from him, instead holding her at arm’s length. He didn’t want to outright reject her, but he didn’t think he could hold on to his control either. A war raged inside him between compassion and hunger. Images flashed in his mind of his teeth against her throat and her soft moans as he drank the life from her. He pushed the thoughts from his head.

“If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here,” he said. He barely knew what he was saying. All he could think of was the redness of Ashe’s lips and how soft they might feel against his.

As if reading his thoughts, Ashe grabbed the collar of Peter’s coat and pulled him down for a kiss. Peter just barely managed to summon up the willpower to stop her, his hands taking hers from his coat and holding her a safe distance away.

“I can’t,” he said, though more than anything he wanted to. Ashe had a look on her face like she had expected the rejection. He wanted to tell her his feelings, but it was too dangerous to lead her on. She would only tempt him further if she thought she had a chance. Especially after everything she had told him about her father, Peter did not want to be responsible for breaking her heart when his secret finally came to light. He knew he could not hide his dark urges forever. It was better for the two of them to remain just friends if he wanted to keep Ashe safe.

“I’m your tutor,” Peter said. “It would be a distraction for you if we made this relationship more complicated than it is now.”

Ashe took her hands from his, but did not turn away as Peter had feared. “I get it, it’s fine. I know I should focus on my schoolwork.”

“It’s not about you, okay?” Peter said. “It’s just how things are.”

Ashe simply nodded, letting her shoulders slump as she took in his words. “God, I’m so bad at this kind of thing,” she said.

Peter couldn’t help but smile. “It wasn’t so bad. It’s my fault for trying to kiss you on the roof the other day. But I’m sure you can forgive an old man for his mistake.”

His final comment elicited a tiny smile from Ashe. She punched him on the shoulder as she tried to hide it. “You’re stupid. You know that, right?”

As Peter felt another pang of hunger wash over him, he wondered what Ashe would think if she knew the true extent of his stupidity. Here he was, a vampire, alone with a beautiful woman in a dark cemetery. It was a classic scenario with predictable results. Peter tried to ignore the little voice in his head warning of danger as he offered to walk Ashe home. His self-control was slipping fast, but he estimated he could get her home before the urge to feed became too strong.

CHAPTER 4

Peter woke with a pang of hunger and Ashe’s words still ringing in his ears. He had barely slept and still felt groggy as thin sunlight cast the pattern of his curtains across his bedroom wall. He pulled the sheets up over his head and tried to go back to sleep, but worry kept him from drifting back into unconsciousness. He couldn’t possibly have known until last night that Ashe was David’s daughter. He knew David was fairly new to being a vampire, but had possessed no knowledge of the man’s former life; the life he had left behind. To discover that David had left so much pain in his wake made Peter sick. He felt like an accomplice to David’s betrayal of Ashe, though in truth he was as innocent as Ashe herself. They were two victims of a weird twist of fate.

A cloud shifted in the sky, allowing the sun to momentarily pierce through the narrow gap in the curtains. Peter could feel the shaft of pure sunlight burning his skin even through the sheet was pulled over his face. He tumbled out of bed with the sheet still tangled around himself and yanked the curtain closed. The hot line of sunburnt skin had already started to heal. In minutes his pale complexion was as flawless as before.

Peter pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a shirt, and stumbled out into the hallway. He felt lightheaded and had to brace himself against the wall for a moment until his vision cleared. It seemed that every smell in the hallway was twice as strong as before. He could smell the sour, almost fecal scent of the old cardboard boxes and the odor of the mold growing behind the flowered wallpaper. There was also an iron tang of blood in the air, which Peter could sense was coming from the kitchen. It drew him forward. As he licked his dry lips he could feel the sharp tips of his canines pressing against his tongue. They were growing longer, as if preparing for a hunt. His body was responding to the need for blood.

The refrigerator, which had been full of blood bags just days ago, was now teetering dangerously close to empty. Peter’s stomach growled as he looked at the barren shelves. The smell of blood was coming from a bag that had torn open and was leaking a steady drip of red onto the shelf below. The smell drove Peter wild and he nearly stooped down to lick the blood from the inside of the refrigerator. Only the shame at his own hunger stopped him.

Peter had come home from his meeting with Ashe the previous night to find that his family had drained most of the blood bags. Still on edge from nearly kissing Ashe, Peter had had to make do with a sack of weeks-old blood that had likely been brought with them during the move to the city. It had only shaved the edge off his hunger and Peter was still feeling a strong urge to feed.

Peter grabbed a bag from the back of the refrigerator and tore the cap off the tube with his teeth. He was too hungry to bother with finding a glass. The blood, like last night’s, was nearly too old to drink safely, and Peter felt a rumble in his stomach as it settled. As much as Peter hated it, he had to go see David today about getting more blood.

A thud from the living room disturbed the quiet house. Peter threw the empty bag into the sink and went to see who or what was the cause of the noise. He arrived just in time to see a groggy Landon sitting up from the sofa. His clothes were rumpled and it looked like he had spent the night there.

“Morning, Peter,” he said with a fake warmth as he stretched and yawned like he was in his own home.

“What are you doing here?” Peter replied with ice in his tone. No wonder his family was running low on blood. It seemed they were running a charity for the city’s other clans.

“Vanessa invited me over.” Landon slicked his hair back with both hands. “But don’t worry. She only brought me here because she knew I’d bring some blood with me. I never let a party run dry. And besides, after seeing the sad state of your refrigerator I thought I’d lend a helping hand. It pains me to see your beautiful sisters going hungry like that.”

Peter felt the bile rise in his throat.

Landon continued. “Thanks for the tip, by the way. The new supplier — what’s his name, David? — is really worth his weight in gold.”

“What did you say?” Peter asked sharply. It was dangerous for suppliers to work for more than one clan. The more David had to steal from the local hospitals, the more chance there was of being caught. Landon should have known this. He had no business taking blood from Peter’s supplier.

Landon shrugged and lay back down, locking his fingers together behind his head and closing his eyes. It was clear he shared none of Peter’s concern.

“You’re a leech. You know that right? We only came out here to survive, but if you’re looking for a fight that’s what you’re going to get. David doesn’t work for you. He works for us.” Even as Peter said this, he wished it wasn’t true. If it was up to him, he would never see David again but his family needed the blood.

Landon opened one eye. “Hey, I’m just trying to get along with everyone. I said I helped your sisters out, didn’t I?”

Peter clenched his fist at his side. He hated Landon’s smug look and wanted to wipe it off his face for him.

“I think you’re the one who’s being selfish. I doubt you’re planning to share any of your girlfriend’s blood with the family.” Landon chuckled as if the thought of Peter going after Ashe in that way amused him. Peter only felt disgust and a sharp pang of fear. Maybe Landon understood more about Peter’s motivations for getting closer to Ashe than Peter himself did.

“Shut up,” Peter growled, trying to banish the voice of doubt in his head. “I would never harm a human.”

Landon looked like he didn’t believe him. “Okay, whatever you say. I forgot you’re a saint, unlike the rest of us demons.”

“Get out of my house,” Peter said. He needed to be away from Landon before things got violent. When Landon made no move to leave, Peter picked up his own coat and left the house, slamming the door on his way out. He would have words with Vanessa later. For now, he had to get blood.

Luckily the sun had disappeared behind a thick wall of clouds and Peter felt no need to put on his jacket once outside. He carried it loosely in one arm as he made his way down the street. With his free hand, he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and made a quick call to David to set up a meeting. He needed an update on the promised delivery this week. It was only a matter of time before his sisters lost control and started taking live victims. Peter, however, knew he would fight the urge even if it killed him. He was done taking innocent lives.

David picked up after a couple of rings. Peter pictured the man on the other end of the line; the father who had been smiling with his daughter in the picture Ashe kept with her always.

It was hard for Peter to keep an even tone as he talked. “I need to see you about the supply,” he said. “A few things happened and the clan’s run low a little earlier than expected. I’m on my way to your place.”

“I’m not there. I’m out,” David replied. He sounded out of breath, though Peter knew it couldn’t have been from exertion. The man must have been nervous about something.

“Fine, I’ll go to where you are. Just tell me the place. We need the delivery today.” Peter hung back at the corner, not sure if he should cross the street or turn back the way he had come. A bicyclist stopped at the intersection and turned left.

“I don’t have the blood now, but I’m on my way to get it.”

Peter cursed under his breath. If David didn’t have the blood, then why had Peter’s family even followed him out here in the first place? David only had one use to the clan; Peter was in no mood to start giving second chances.

“I don’t care,” Peter said. “Tell me where you are.”

David sighed. “I’m in the park across from the hospital. It’s the one on the corner facing the student center of the college.”

“I know where it is,” Peter snapped. “Just wait for me there.”

He hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

Ashe sat by a window on the second floor of the student center looking out onto the churchyard below. Books lay strewn about on the table in front of her, but she paid them no mind as she gazed down at the tombstones and overgrown grass. All morning she had been hoping for Peter to show up, not so much that she could talk to him but rather so that she could observe him from afar and maybe make some sense of the feelings buzzing around in her chest like a hive of bees.

She had nearly kissed him last night. In the quiet of the graveyard under the moonlight, she was sure he would kiss her back. The urge had come over her so suddenly that she had not been able to hold back. She had never been so drawn to another person before. It was almost as if he had cast a spell on her, which made his rejection all the harder to bear because Ashe felt that it was entirely Peter’s fault that she felt the way she did.

But he was her tutor. He had a responsibility to see to it that her grades improved by the end of the semester. Romance was a distraction Ashe knew she couldn't afford, even though every bone in her body yearned for it. Ashe didn’t want to think that there were other reasons beside Peter’s academic obligations that he had stopped her from kissing him.

Ashe rested her arms on the table and in doing so knocked a book to the floor. It opened to the page of Vlad the Impaler that Peter had shown her that first day he had been assigned as her tutor. Ashe remembered her lack of motivation back then, of the way she had been so dismissive of Peter’s idea that myth and truth weren’t nearly as separate as Ashe had thought. But now Ashe was finally starting to get the hang of what both he and Professor Sharpe wanted her to get out of her mythology class. She was starting to see the value of having faith in the unknown.

Beyond the churchyard there was a fairly busy intersection and past that, just visible over the tops of the trees, was the hospital. It was a large square building of tan stone with little distinction besides the red “H” painted on its side. Ashe remembered having gone there a couple of times to participate in Red Cross donations. She had been surprised at the bright hue of the blood going from her arm through the tube into the pint bag and had needed to look away. It had seemed as if her very life was being sucked out of her, but she had endured it knowing that it would help others.

Suddenly the image of Vlad’s impaled victims flashed through Ashe’s mind and she felt sick. She needed some air. She promptly stood from the table, leaving her books as they were, knowing she would come back for them later.

Once outside, she took a deep breath of the chilly air and set a course for the cemetery. Her plan was to cut through to the street and maybe cross the intersection, take a lap around the park, and come back. The pressure to study was keeping her tethered to the student center, though in the back of her mind she couldn’t help thinking that all of it was for nothing. Though the registrar’s office had given her one last extension on her tuition payment and she had managed to squeeze a few more work shifts into her already overwhelming schedule, she still couldn’t see how she would ever get the money to stay in school. At least if she was kicked out, Ashe thought with bitterness, Peter wouldn’t have any excuse for not giving her that kiss.

One step into the cemetery and Ashe’s memories of the night before came flooding back. Her cheeks burned red under the striped scarf she wore. She picked up her pace until she was out of the plot and safely onto the sidewalk in front of the church. She still couldn’t believe that she had opened up to Peter like that. Her fight had been with her mom, so why had she started talking about her father? There was something about Peter that seemed to draw Ashe’s insecurities into the open and while she had resented him for it at first, she now found herself craving it. She loved feeling like he really saw her for who she was, flaws and all. She loved being able to gaze into those storm cloud eyes of his and not be afraid anymore.

Ashe shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited for the light to turn at the intersection. Traffic was heavy today and cars drove past in a steady stream. The light seemed to have no intention of changing. Ashe’s gaze wandered across the street where she could see people strolling through the park despite the cold bite of the air. Two men came into view from behind a stand of trees and Ashe recognized Peter as one of them. The other was facing away from her. He seemed older, maybe one of Peter’s professors. She had the sudden urge to run towards the park and catch up to Peter, but the light was still red and she didn’t want to be flattened by traffic.

The man Peter was with turned and for a brief moment Ashe could see his face. She gasped aloud in recognition. It was her father, looking exactly as she remembered him from all those years ago. She felt her stomach drop.

A bus pulled into the intersection, stopping to let out passengers right in front of Ashe. By the time it had left again, Peter and the man were nowhere to be seen. The crosswalk light turned green and Ashe hurried towards the park desperate for another glimpse of the man. It was her father, she was sure. But at the same time, it couldn’t have been. Surely, he would have aged in the time he had been away. His hair would have grayed more; his face would have shown the years in its wrinkles.

Ashe let her steps slow until she was standing like a lost child in the middle of the park. She felt foolish. Of course the man hadn’t been her father. She had been thinking too much of Peter and their conversation yesterday, and her mind had seen what it wanted to. Still, that voice of doubt, of distrust, that had dogged Ashe ever since her father left her now whispered in her ear: Peter and her father were colluding to hurt her again.

She turned to go back to the student center and saw Peter coming towards her. He was alone. Ashe put a hand to her head, feeling for all the world like she was losing her mind.

David looked haggard, with hollow cheeks and visible points to his canine teeth. He wore a brimmed hat to keep off the weak sunlight and a scarf was wrapped tight around his neck. He wore a long grey coat, and on his hands was a pair leather gloves. Not an inch of skin was visible besides his face. He looked like a detective from a 50’s pulp novel. He struggled to keep up with Peter as they walked through the park together. Peter hoped he was not neglecting to feed himself.

“I told you, it’s all yours. Every last drop.”

Landon’s clan was draining David dry, taking all of the blood he procured as soon as he got it leaving none for Peter and his family. Peter needed assurances that this time would be different.

“I’ll be waiting around back for you to come out. You try to stiff me, and you won’t like the consequences. Remember, I’ve been in this game a century longer than you. Don’t think you can pull one over on me.”

“I’m not trying to deceive you,” David said holding up his hands as if to ward off Peter’s threat. “I thought your blood would last. This city is plenty big enough for me to supply both your clans, as long as you give me the time to do it. You can’t keep going through bags like it’s the Middle Ages. You need to get your sisters under control.”

Peter kept his voice low so the passerby wouldn’t hear him, but he wanted more than anything to yell at David for trying to dodge the blame. Instead, he let the anger drip through his words like a slow-burning fire lit under David’s feet. “Your duty is to my clan, not theirs. They were able to find blood just fine on their own before you got here, and they can go back to doing it that way. Your only concern is us.”

David protested, “I told you I can manage. You just have to give me some time. It’s not so simple—”

“I know about your past,” Peter cut him off. “The family you left behind. Your word is worthless, as far as I’m concerned.” He had not meant to bring Ashe into this, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said to him in the café last night.

“What are you talking about?” David said, a bead of sweat forming on his brow despite the cold.

Peter stopped in front of a stand of trees. “I know that you abandoned your young daughter and that she has never forgiven you. You should see the woman she has grown to become. She’s independent, brilliant, and beautiful but she still struggles with the pain you caused her and it’s holding her back. You may have forgotten your life before all this, but the people you left behind have not. They still live in the mess you made all those years ago.”

David wiped his damp brow with a shaking hand, but there was already too much sweat for him to hide. “You—you’ve seen my daughter? Is she still here?”

“What do you care?” Peter spat.

“You have to understand, it wasn’t my choice to leave her,” David said, nearly shouting. Peter had to gesture for him to be quieter. “Just let me explain, please,” David said in a softer tone.

“Fine,” Peter replied reluctantly. The man seemed desperate and Peter needed him calm before he went into the hospital to steal the blood.

David began, “Like I said, I didn’t leave my family because I wanted to. I left them to protect them, not to hurt them.

“I was in a car accident, on my way home from work. I don’t remember much, but I do remember lying on the pavement bleeding out with a piece of the car’s wreckage poking through my side and the thought that I’d never see my wife or daughter again. I was probably in a lot of pain, but all I could think about was my family. I didn’t even notice the woman calling my name at first. I’d never seen her before but she seemed to know me. Or maybe she’d read my name from my driver’s license. Anyway, she leaned over me as I lay there dying and told me she could save me. She said that I would not only be healed, but I would also never grow old. However, I would have to become a vampire like her in order to be saved.

I thought I was delirious from the blood loss and having a hallucination, but her cold hand on my cheek seemed real and the more she explained the more it all seemed to make sense. She said I needed to make my decision fast, because once I was gone there was no bringing me back. I was terrified of becoming like her, but she said it was the only way I’d be able to stay with my family. I believed her, and as soon as the first drops of her blood touched my lips not only was the pain gone, but the world came back into sharp focus and I was able to sit up on my own. I looked down at the bloody hole in my shirt only to find smooth skin beneath. It was as if I’d never been an accident. It was a miracle. I went home to my family never telling them what had happened.”

Peter listened to David’s story with a knot of dread in his stomach. He had seen enough freshly-turned vampires over the years to know just how strong the desire to feed was during those first months. Control came with practice, and a new vampire was at the highest risk of going feral and attacking those around him.

“But no one had told me of the hunger, or of the changes that came with my new condition. I tried eating normal food but was violently ill. The only thing I could keep down were raw, bloody steaks but even those settled poorly in my stomach. I kept dreaming of waking up in the night to drain my wife dry and in the day, all I could think about was the sweet smell of blood.

“I had accepted the woman’s help, thinking it was the only way I’d be able to stay with my family, but I soon realized I was a danger to them. So I packed my things and left them.”

Peter couldn’t believe the vampire that had turned David had just let him go off on his own like that. It was beyond irresponsible. He truly was a victim, just as Ashe was and all the others who had been hurt by vampirism whether they knew it or not.

Peter sighed. “I’m sorry for what that vampire did to you. But it doesn’t change the situation now. You’re still a vampire, and we still need our blood. You have to stop supplying to Landon’s clan.”

“But that’s the thing,” David said looking resigned. He started walking again and Peter had no choice but to follow. “Did you ever wonder why I moved back here, when there was such a high risk I’d be recognized?”

Peter shrugged. He thought it had been strange, but had been more worried about other things. Namely, fighting his own thirst for Ashe’s blood.

“Landon’s mother, Constance. She’s the one who turned me. Their clan used to go out into the country to feed, but these days it’s just not enough. She tracked me down and offered me a job. I knew that if I refused, she’d hurt my family.”

Of course, Peter thought. Landon had been all too smug about his family’s new blood supplier. Like David, Peter did not see any other alternative. He did not want to see Ashe come to any harm. But it didn’t change the fact that his family needed blood.

“Okay, I won’t let that happen. Let’s go to the hospital now. You get what you can, and I’ll meet you around back. I’ll make sure you keep enough for both yourself and to keep Landon’s clan happy. My clan will be fine for another few days.” Though this last part was a complete lie, Peter did not want David to panic and put the whole operation in jeopardy. He just needed a little time to think of an alternative. If Peter had to, he would go hungry for a couple of days. He knew he could stay in control. He had to.

They came to the edge of the park and Peter looked up just in time to see Ashe standing across the street waiting for the light to turn. She was the last person he wanted to see right now. It didn’t seem like she had spotted them yet. Peter had to act fast.

He put a hand on David’s shoulder, stopping him mid-stride. “You go ahead to the hospital. I’ll be there when you get out. I don’t want people seeing us together around the hospital, just in case something goes wrong.”

David nodded and set off at a brisk pace towards the tan stone building. Peter turned down a path out of sight from the intersection. They were both gone by the time Ashe crossed the street.

“Ashe,” Peter said, walking up to her with his hands in his pockets. “Taking a break from studying?” He gave her a warm smile.

Ashe tried to appear calm, though she felt like she was losing it. There was no one with Peter, no professor and certainly not her father.

“I—I wanted some fresh air,” she stuttered. “But I probably should be getting back. I left my books all over a table in the student center.”

“I’ll walk you,” Peter said. He put a friendly arm around her shoulders as they walked back towards campus together. Ashe couldn’t help but lean into his side as they walked, knowing his embrace was only one of friendship but feeling like she was his.

The feeling gave her the confidence to ask him about the man she had seen him with. “Hey, were you walking with someone earlier?” she asked.

Peter took his arm from around her shoulders and looked at her. “No,” he said with a slight frown. “I came to the park by myself. Why?”

“Never mind,” Ashe said feeling stupid. It must have been her mind playing tricks on her, after all.

“Professor Sharp’s going to start announcing topics for the final paper,” Peter said, happy to change the subject. “So you’d better get caught up on your reading by the end of the week if you want plenty of time for research. I can recommend some books once you’ve decided what you want to write about.”

Surprisingly enough, Ashe was already close to finishing the required reading for the class. All she had was a book about the history of vampire lore to get through. All of the gruesome artwork in the book had turned her stomach and she was struggling to get through even the first few chapters. It seemed terrible that anyone had the imagination to invent such stories in the first place. Ashe preferred the children’s folklore of the middle ages, though that too could be grim at times. It had to be, for an age when the life expectancy was nearly half what it was now. At least vampires could live forever, Ashe thought with a smile.

Peter walked her back to the student center before saying goodbye. He had a psychology class to get to and couldn’t stay with her to study. Ashe reluctantly went back to her books, wishing she could have spent the time with Peter instead. Even so, she found herself absorbed by her reading, enough that she nearly forgot to leave in time for her shift at the bookstore. She hastily gathered up her things and ran downstairs.

The church bell started to toll before she had made it in the door. Her supervisor, an elderly lady with thick glasses and a perpetual frown clicked her tongue as Ashe threw her bag behind the counter and clipped her nametag to her sweater. She had forgotten she was wearing the black one with the holes in it that barely covered her band t-shirt underneath. This warranted another tongue-click from her supervisor. The bookstore was nearly dead, only a few red-eyed students wandering between high stacks of shelves, no doubt looking for books they should have picked up at the start of the semester.

The door opened with a rush of cold air and a student Ashe vaguely recognized walked in. It took a moment for her to place him as the man who had nodded at her on campus only a day ago. Today he was wearing a long wool coat like the kind Peter often wore and his sleek black hair looked disheveled as if he had recently woken up. He smiled as he saw her looking at him. Ashe averted her eyes and busied herself with the inventory list.

The student came up to the counter, drumming his long, slender fingers against its edge. “Ashe, right?”

Ashe looked up in surprise. The student gestured at her nametag.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“I only wanted to introduce myself. I’m Landon.” He held out his hand to shake but Ashe ignored it. He shrugged and put his hand back on the counter.

“You’re friends with Peter, right?” he asked. The way he said this made Ashe think he was a friend of Peter’s as well, though she couldn’t recall seeing the two of them together before.

“Yeah,” Ashe replied. “He’s my mythology tutor.”

Landon chuckled. “Of course he is. It’s always been his best subject.”

Ashe went back to checking the inventory list. She was supposed to be working, not talking, and she could feel the sharp glare of her supervisor coming from behind a stack of books to her left.

“But he’s not just your friend, is he?” Landon asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

Ashe tried to not let her embarrassment show. “Like I said, he’s my tutor.”

“He’s told me a lot about you,” Landon said in a low voice. “Really, you’re all he talks about.”

Ashe couldn’t help but feel a swell of hope at these words, though her face remained a mask. Maybe she and Peter had a shot of being together after all.

Landon glanced over at Ashe’s supervisor before leaning in towards Ashe and whispering, “Don’t let his words fool you. Deep down he’s shy and unsure of himself. I think he only needs a nudge in the right direction to make him see that he doesn’t need to hide his feelings for you.”

He leaned away just as Ashe’s supervisor started making a beeline straight for the counter. The depth of her scowl gave Ashe no doubt that she was about to kick Landon out.

Landon smiled at the old woman, then at Ashe, and left the store with a skip in his step. Ashe watched the door close behind him, feeling all at once excited and terrified at the idea of tempting Peter to forget his duties as her tutor. She knew she could manage Professor Sharp’s class on her own. She didn’t need Peter to help her study. She needed him to be hers.

CHAPTER 5

Peter’s phone buzzed loudly against the wooden top of the dresser. Peter groaned and sat up. He was both exhausted and jittery and his stomach was making obscene noises as it called for Peter to feed.

He picked up the phone. “Hello?” he grumbled.

“Can I come over?” Ashe asked. She didn’t sound upset, but rather there was an almost singsong quality to her voice. She seemed happy.

But Peter had no intention of inviting her to his house and he didn’t think he was up for meeting her anyway. “Sorry,” he replied. “The place is still a mess from the move and I’m supposed to take care of some errands.”

He lurched through the hallway and into the kitchen. The plastic shopping bag David had dropped by the house was still sitting on the counter. There were maybe five or six bags of blood inside, not nearly enough to tide the clan over. Peter forced himself not to take one of the bags.

“Please,” Ashe pleaded. “I need help with this book I’m reading. I’ve been trying to understand it on my own but no matter how many times I read the chapter I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

She really did sound like she was trying and Peter had a responsibility to help her. He found himself digging through the plastic bag on the counter with his free hand as he replied, “I guess I could make some time for you. But I can’t stay long.”

“Great,” Ashe replied. Peter couldn’t remember her sounding so happy. She must have finally become motivated to do well in Sharp’s class.

Peter took a glass from the cupboard. “But you can’t come to the house. I’ll meet you on campus. The student center okay?”

“Meet me in the music building. I found a study room we can use,” Ashe told him as he filled the glass with blood.

Peter said goodbye and hung up. He tried not to picture Ashe’s face as he drank the contents of the glass in his hand, but it was no use. His desire was too strong. He could imagine the feel of his lips against the soft skin of her neck, and then his teeth, followed by the warm rush of life flowing from her veins into his. The thought both disgusted and excited him. He promised himself he would not lose control as he walked from his house back to campus.

The music building was quiet today and Ashe was waiting for him at the front doors. Despite the cold she wore tight jeans with slash marks all the way up her thighs and a form-fitting sweater that couldn’t have done much to ward against the cold. She smiled at him and took his arm. Peter gulped, feeling his hands grow clammy as he followed her into the building.

This time, instead of going up to the roof, which was now inaccessible, Ashe led him into a small study room off the main hallway in the basement. It held little more than a desk and a single chair, and couldn’t have been much bigger than a broom closet. It looked like it had once been a music practice room that had since been turned into a makeshift study room. Peter supposed that an enterprising music student had done so years ago.

Peter held his breath as Ashe squeezed past him and went to the desk.

“You can sit here,” she said, offering Peter the only chair in the room. The book that Ashe had apparently been struggling with was already open on the desk. Ashe leaned against the desk off to the side, not having a place of her own to sit.

Peter tried to ignore the sound of her beating heart echoing through the tiny room as he looked at the page.

Ashe leaned over him and circled the passage with the capped end of a pen she was holding. He could almost smell her blood through her skin. “It’s this part that I’m confused about. It starts talking about witches and vampire lore and in a lot of places it’s hard to determine between the two. Like this part about staking witches through the heart and the Albanian witch that drinks blood. But Professor Sharp wants us to talk about the two as separate myths and I don’t know where to draw the line.”

Peter was having trouble paying attention to Ashe’s words. Her thigh was inching closer to his side as she shifted against the desk, her heat radiating towards him like a flame. Peter’s gums started to itch as his canines grew fractionally longer.

“And in Spain there are stories of witches who drank blood as well.”

Peter wished Ashe would stop talking. The words swam on the page in front of him as he fought the urge to quench his thirst with her blood.

“It won’t change anything,” Ashe said suddenly.

“What?” Peter replied, confused.

“My grades only improved because I wanted to spend time with you,” Ashe said. Her voice was quiet, but her eyes held his without wavering. “I’m sure I could figure this stuff out on my own, but I keep asking you to help me because I want to see you.”

“I can’t,” Peter said. “I already told you.” The pleading look in her eyes made it even harder this time.

Peter raised his shaking hand to her thigh, his fingers trailing the soft skin under the tears in her jeans. Ashe met his gaze and a soft smile stole over her lips. He stood from his chair as if pulled up by an outside power, something far too strong to resist. He needed to have her, to know she was his. His mouth found the crook of her neck and hovered there. He could hear the flutter of Ashe’s heated breaths as his canines extended. He could think of nothing but feeding.

“It hurts,” Ashe whimpered as his teeth found flesh. She struggled to push him away.

Peter stumbled backwards, upending the chair, which crashed to the floor violently. The realization of what he had nearly done sent waves of guilt crashing over him. He had to get away from her.

Ashe reached towards him as he lunged for the door, but he was gone before Ashe could say anything. His only thought was to get away before he hurt her even more.

It was only once he had made it across campus and calmed down a little that he realized leaving her like that had likely hurt her as much as his bite had. But he could not go back to apologize in his current state. He didn’t trust himself to be around her, or anyone for that matter. He thought he could keep her safe, but he was too weak after all. He was no better than any other vampire, no better than Landon. He despised himself more than he ever had before and he wondered bitterly if he’d be better off dead.

The heavens opened up and rain started to pour down on the city as Peter walked through the city. On his way home, he stopped at a butcher’s shop to pick up some cow’s blood, hoping it would not become a regular thing but dreading that it might. It came in a frozen block and Peter hoped it would thaw before his sisters woke up and found the half-empty sack of blood donation bags that David had left him with. He knew his sisters had no issues stalking live prey and Peter didn't want that on his conscience.

Ashe felt numb. She sat between the gravestones with her legs pulled up to her chest and her head resting on her knees, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Maybe she had been wrong to push him away, but the look of disgust in Peter’s eyes as he had left without a word told her all she needed to know about his feelings for her. Ashe couldn’t for the life of her understand why he had been so nice to her before, and why he had insisted that they remain friends, when underneath there was only one thing he wanted from her. Whatever the reason, one thing was clear. It had all been an act, one that Ashe had foolishly fallen for.

The crunch of dry grass nearby caused Ashe to look up. Someone was approaching, but she couldn’t see them because the gravestone was in the way.

“Is someone there?” she asked, briefly thinking it was Peter coming to apologize, though she knew it was too much to hope.

“Ashe?” A man’s voice asked.

Tears prickled Ashe’s eyes as the man came into view. Her first impulse was to run up and hug him, but she quickly remembered just how much she hated him.

“Dad,” she said, slowly getting to her feet. So she had seen him in the park, after all! But he was just as young as she remembered him. The grey hair at his temples had not spread in nearly ten years and his face was no more wrinkled than the one smiling at Ashe in her photograph. She couldn’t believe her own eyes.

David approached her cautiously, as if afraid she would run away. He stopped a few feet off and attempted a smile. It looked more like a grimace. “I’m so sorry for everything,” he said.

“Where were you?” Ashe asked, her voice cracking. Wherever he had been, he must have been taking good care of himself. He had not aged a day in all that time. Ashe’s first instinct was to run. It had to be a trick of some sort, a terrible trap.

“I have a lot of things to explain,” her father replied. “I know you probably hate me.”

“Is it really you?”

David took a small step closer. “Yeah, Ashe. It’s me.”

Ashe hugged her arms to her chest, feeling a sudden sharp sense of longing. “I don’t hate you,” she found herself saying through tears. “I just want to know where you’ve been. Why did you leave us?”

David wiped a tear from his own eye before replying, “I know you won’t believe everything I say, but I want you to listen to me. Whatever I tell you, I’m not lying.” He closed the gap between them as he talked and Ashe did not move away from him. Though she had thought she hated him all these years, now she only felt a deep loneliness and the childish desire to be hugged and comforted.

“You don’t know this, but weeks before I left you I had a car accident on the way to work,” David started.

“If you’re going to lie to me you don’t have to waste your breath,” Ashe muttered. Her dad had walked out on her. This had nothing to do with some accident.

David winced. “Please, just listen. You can judge me all you want afterwards.”

Ashe bit back her sharp words and allowed her father to continue. Ashe did not believe him for one second, as he told her an impossible story about vampires and coming back from the dead. The hatred she had harbored for him came rushing back. Did he really think he could soothe her with a bedtime story? She wasn’t thirteen anymore, she was a grown woman now. But her father wouldn’t know that, as he had missed her growing up.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I have proof,” he said. He opened his arms as if to embrace her. Ashe shied away. What proof could he have of such blatant lies?

“I don’t have a heartbeat,” he said. “Listen.”

Ashe eyed him suspiciously, but the thirteen-year-old part of her secretly wanted that hug whether or not he was fooling her. She leaned into her father’s arms, letting her ear rest against the center of his chest. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat and moved a little to the side. Still no sound. His lungs, too, were motionless. It wasn’t possible. She pushed herself away from her father.

“No,” was all she could say. She felt like she was breaking apart inside.

“I know it’s a lot to process, Ashe,” her father said. There was nothing but compassion in his voice. “But it’s true. I’m a vampire. I left you and your mother so that you would be safe and I didn’t leave a note so you wouldn’t go searching for me.”

Ashe broke out in sobs and crumpled to the ground. She couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Vampires weren’t real; they were stupid stories in Professor Sharp’s books. They were superstitions that the illiterate people of the Middle Ages believed in. Her father couldn’t be a vampire. He just couldn’t.

David wrapped his arms around Ashe and let her cry until she was spent. Once her sobs died down, she could once again sense the eerie silence in her father’s chest. There was no denying her own senses. All of it was real, including the fatherly protectiveness of his embrace. Whatever he was doing back in her life, he wasn’t here to hurt her.

He helped her to her feet just as the clouds above let out their first drops of rain. Ashe led him towards the shelter of the cathedral, but David hung back.

“I can’t,” he said shamefully and Ashe realized her mistake. A vampire couldn’t go into a house of God.

Instead they huddled together under the eaves of the student center. There were no other people outside, everyone having already sought shelter from the pouring rain. To anyone looking at them from the outside, they appeared as any other father and daughter catching up on college life and chatting about home. Only Ashe could notice the dark circles under her father’s eyes and the pale cast to his skin that had not been there before. She tried not to think of the dead silence of the man’s heart.

“What have you been doing all this time?” Ashe asked. She was now able to look at him without crying.

David put his hands into his coat pockets. “I, uh, sell you-know-what to folks like me so they don’t have to hurt anyone trying to get it.”

“You mean blood,” Ashe said without flinching. She was testing out the new boundaries of her reality. She wanted to know just how much of the myths were true.

“Yes,” David replied. “But I’m out. I promise. I’ll get a real job, something on the night shift. I’ve got you and your mother to think about now. I mean… I’m ready to come back if you’ll let me?”

“You’re not dangerous?”

“No, I promise. The first few years were rocky, but I’m used to it now. It’ll take a little adjusting but nothing us Linfields can’t weather.”

“Mom’s going to lose it,” Ashe said, managing a smile despite the situation.

“I’m sure she will,” her father smiled back. “I’m just glad to see you’ve grown to be such a fine young woman. I’m sorry I missed most of it.”

Ashe shrugged away his compliment, feeling happy about it nevertheless.

“By the way, you don’t have a boyfriend by any chance, do you?”

“Really?” Ashe asked. She couldn’t believe that after nearly a decade of not seeing each other, that was his main concern. But the question reminded her of something else.

She said, “I thought I saw you with someone I know the other day, in the park. He’s a student here. His name’s Peter.”

Her father’s face went pale under the shadow of his hat. “Is he important to you?”

“You know him?” Ashe asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“I used to supply blood to his clan. But like I said, I’m done with that. No matter what it takes, I’m done working for the other vampires.”

Ashe could feel reality slipping away again. “He can’t be,” she moaned. Ashe thought about his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, and the almost preternatural physical ability he possessed. He had been too quick saving her from the falling crane, though at the time she had thought nothing of it. His hands were cold, too. Ashe didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was staring her in the face.

She felt a fresh stab of betrayal and the beginnings of anger starting to bubble up from the new wound.

“Why didn't he tell me?” Ashe asked.

“He probably didn’t want you to be hurt when you found out the truth about me, and about himself,” David replied. “If he cared about you, he would have done everything to protect you from the dark world we live in. It’s the same reason I left and why it took me all these years to finally come back.”

Peter had been keeping an important secret from her all this time, lying to her face that he had been alone in the park that day, and that he didn’t know her father. She didn’t care if he thought he was trying to protect her. She had spilled her heart out to him and he had repaid her in deceit. If David hadn’t come to find Ashe on his own, she would probably have never reconciled with her father and could not have started the process of healing from her past. Ashe could never forgive Peter, or any of the other vampires. They had tricked her and tricked her father, taking him away from her when she was only a child and keeping him from her even when they knew he had a family here. They were monsters.

Angry tears stung Ashe’s face. “I—I need some time to process all of this,” Ashe said, turning away from her father.

He put a comforting hand on her back but she took a step away, feeling an instinctive revulsion against his touch. Her father was one of them, and though Ashe loved him dearly, right now she couldn’t bear to be near him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just need to be alone right now.”

David sighed. “I understand. I’m here whenever you need me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ashe stepped out from under the eaves of the student center, not caring about the cold rain pouring down on her and chilling her to the bone. If she caught a cold, so much the better, Ashe thought. It would be a good excuse to miss school for a few days and avoid having to see Peter. She didn’t know if she could even look him in the face again after what her father had told her.

She thought about Peter’s friend Landon and wondered if he knew that Peter was a vampire. She doubted it. Landon seemed to be the only honest person Ashe knew, having told Ashe of Peter’s true feelings toward her. Ashe didn’t care anymore if Peter liked her or not, she was never going to speak to him again. He could live out the centuries alone and miserable for all she cared.

It rained for three solid days and in that time Ashe had seen neither hide nor hair of Peter. In truth, she had been actively trying to avoid him, not only turning off her phone but also taking detours between classes to stay away from places she might have run into him. She no longer studied in the music building, or the student center, and kept away from the churchyard entirely. Instead, she had filled up her schedule with work shifts and used the slow hours at the bookstore to complete her readings and start researching for her term papers. Landon had come by a few times, just to say hello, and though Ashe had reservations about him being a friend of Peter’s, she nevertheless appreciated his company. Once he brought her coffee and his hand had been warm when she touched it. The warmth reassured Ashe that he was human.

Her father, too, had been slowly integrating himself back into Ashe’s life. Ashe’s mother had been struck dumb by the sudden reappearance of her unaged husband and had nearly sent him out the door with a black eye the first night. Luckily Ashe had been there to help calm her down and explain everything. Ashe had felt more than a little satisfaction at being one step ahead of her mother on all of this vampire business. She had simply sat and listened like a dumb child while Ashe and her father tried to ease her into the idea that the world was not so mundane as she had believed. She was still trying to process all of it, but at least she was letting David sleep on the sofa for the time being. Small steps, Ashe thought.

The rain was coming down in an intermittent drizzle, just enough to be annoying but not quite enough to warrant an umbrella. Ashe should have been researching for Professor Sharp’s paper, but tales of bloodsuckers were the last things Ashe wanted to think about right now. She skirted the dead construction area of the library, taking the long way around campus to get to the English department building. She wanted to see if her literature professor had posted the book assignments for the final paper yet. She was crossing her fingers for Jane Austen, but she would have settled for one of Oscar Wilde’s lighter comedies. She wanted something grounded in reality, but humorous enough to keep her mind from wandering into its darker corners.

There was someone waiting at the front steps of the red brick English department building. He had on a long wool coat and a hood was pulled up over his head to keep the rain off. Ashe recognized his tall, thin frame and the way he brushed the lock of dark hair to the side as he jogged up to meet her. Ashe turned abruptly, no longer interested in visiting the English building. She hurried across campus towards the one place Peter couldn’t follow her.

Peter called after her, but she didn't slow. Her face was set into a scowl and her eyes were trained ahead. She could hear Peter struggling to catch up with her, but she only walked faster. He was maybe ten feet behind her when she hurried up the steps to the cathedral. The bell was ringing the hour, its clanging drowning out Peter’s pleas for her to stop. Ashe didn’t know if the dampness on her face was from the rain or her own tears, but her hand was shaking as she wrenched open the heavy wooden door to the cathedral. She glanced behind herself just as the last peal rang out over the quad and saw Peter standing at the foot of the steps with a conflicted look on his face. He didn’t seem willing to let her go, and she wondered if he even knew she was aware of his betrayal.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Ashe shouted back. “Just leave me alone.”

Peter looked confused, his brows furrowing into concern as he tried to make sense of her cold attitude.

“If this is about the other day, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I also never meant to hurt you.”

He really sounded like he meant it. It only made Ashe angrier. “I know what you are,” Ashe spat through her tears. “I know you’re a vampire. My father came to me and told me all about you. He told me why he had to leave. Your kind took him away from me.”

Peter looked as though he would be sick. He teetered where he stood as the meaning of Ashe’s words sank in. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, his words hollow and unconvincing.

“Then come up here and we’ll talk,” Ashe said, knowing Peter couldn’t take a step closer. Her father had told her vampires couldn’t enter churches. She wanted Peter to admit what he was to her face.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk about this,” Peter pleaded. “We can go to the café, or the student center. Somewhere warm.”

Ashe leaned against the door of the church, propping it open with the weight of her body. Peter moved to the side so that he was out of direct line of sight with the altar bearing the image of Jesus on the cross. Still, he winced as if in physical pain.

Ashe crossed her arms in front of her chest. “If you can’t come inside the church to talk to me, then we have nothing to talk about.”

Peter stood his ground. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Come up here and prove to me you’re not, then,” Ashe said, her voice cracking with desperation. She dared him to try and deny what they both knew to be the truth.

“You know I can’t,” Peter said, his own voice shaky. “Please, Ashe. Let me explain myself. I wanted to protect you. I care about you.”

Ashe took a step backwards into the church. “No you don’t. If you cared about me, you would have told me the truth. You would have told me about my father when I showed you his picture. Nearly ten years I wondered where he was, why he’d abandoned us, and that whole time in the café you knew where he was and you didn’t say anything. I hate you, and all of your kind. You’ve done nothing but hurt me and I never want to see you again.”

  The look on Peter’s face nearly made Ashe want to take back her words, but the hatred burning inside her told her he deserved it.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone,” Peter said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I deserve your anger and I’m sorry for all of the lies. It was my fault for putting you in danger like that. My kind and yours are not meant to be together. You’ll never see me again, I promise. I’m gone.”

He pulled his coat close and walked away from the church, his dark silhouette soon obscured by the rainy mist that had begun falling over the city. Ashe watched him go before retreating into the church. She thought she would feel better having confronted Peter about his betrayal, but she only felt hollow disappointment. There had still been a part of her, however small, that had believed Peter to be innocent. She had wanted him to follow her into the church and prove he wasn’t a vampire. She wanted to believe he was good.

Ashe took a seat on one of the wooden pews in the back row. There were few other people in the church and the silence was welcome after the heated argument outside. Dim candles illuminated the altar and overhead lanterns cast their yellow light through the hall. Ashe leaned back to look up at the vaulted ceiling, feeling lost in the cavernous space. She wondered how people all throughout history had felt when the wool was taken from their eyes and the truth of the supernatural world was revealed. Professor Sharp had no idea just how relevant his class was! He would probably be over the moon to discover the existence of vampires in the modern day. Ashe, however, only felt dread.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she quickly excused herself outside, not wanting to disturb the people trying to pray. Whoever had been trying to call gave up before Ashe could get to it and she didn’t recognize the number. Apparently they had tried to call twice, once while Ashe had been talking to Peter. She dialed the number back and waited, watching the rain drip steadily from the brown-leaved trees standing in the churchyard.

A man picked up after a few rings. “Hey, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. It’s Landon.”

Ashe was surprised, but glad to hear his voice. “I’m not at the bookstore today. Did you need something?” she asked, thinking he was calling about a last-minute book he needed for finals.

His voice came through the phone confidently, “No, I was wondering if you were free this afternoon.”

CHAPTER 6

Peter clutched the steering wheel hard, trying to ignore his shaking hands. He hated driving in the city, but Vanessa had insisted. She wanted to find David before the others did. She wanted first dibs on the blood. Everyone was feeling the effects of the hunger, some worse than others. Peter himself was barely hanging on to his sanity. He was almost glad Ashe didn’t want to see him. He didn’t think he could control himself if he were to go anywhere near her. Peter had the nagging worry that the church had been the only thing keeping him from attacking her earlier that afternoon. His thirst for blood had been that strong, but it had also weakened him enough that he had struggled to reach her in time. Maybe his curse had also been a hidden blessing. Who knows what he would have done to her, alone, and in the rain.

David had been missing for days and Peter knew why. Ashe had told him that her father had gone to see her. No doubt the man had decided to give up his life in the vampire underworld and try his hand at an honest living, for the sake of his family. Peter could have admired the decision if he wasn’t so delirious from hunger. Right now, all Peter could think about was the iron tang of fresh human blood and he knew David was the only one who could get it for them. Peter didn’t know enough about the hospitals in the area to try stealing blood on his own. David had the schedules of blood bank deliveries memorized and knew enough about the movement of blood through the hospitals that he could take bags without them being missed. Peter only knew how to get blood from live victims and he wasn’t about to start that again.

Vanessa clacked her nails against the passenger window, pointing at a side street up ahead. “You should turn here. Landon and I stopped here once to get a fix from David. I think his apartment’s near here.”

Peter tried to ignore the casual mention of the vampire who had started this whole mess. If Landon’s family hadn’t turned David in the first place, Peter wouldn’t be out here trying to track down their supplier. Right now it was only Vanessa; Agatha and him, but once the sun set the rest of the clan would join them. Peter feared what would happen if they were unable to locate David.

“You’ve got no clue where he is. Stop acting like you do,” Agatha groaned from the back seat. All she had done so far was complain.

“Shut up,” Vanessa snapped. “He’s around here. We’ll find him.”

“If we don’t I’m hunting tonight. I don’t care.”

“We’d have to move again,” Vanessa said as if she dreaded the very thought. Peter wondered if there wasn’t something going on between his sister and Landon. It would explain a lot.

Peter glanced in the rearview mirror at Agatha, who was watching a young man walking on the street with a hungry gleam in her eye. “No one’s hunting, tonight or ever,” Peter warned her.

“Maybe I’ll put a stake through your heart instead,” Agatha retorted.

They were all on edge and at each other’s throats from the hunger. Peter ignored Agatha’s cruel words. They reminded him too much of his fight with Ashe. She had dared him to go into the church with her, knowing full well he could not. Even the view of the altar through the open door had been dangerous, inflicting on him a physical pain to match the one that had pierced through his heart. He wished she could understand how much she meant to him. Peter hated his desire for blood, his instinctive urge to harm her. It was only because of this affliction that he had to be dishonest with her. But she had refused to let him explain.

Peter slowed as he turned onto the side street Vanessa had pointed out. It was little more than an alley between two apartment buildings. Either one of them could have contained the man they were looking for, but Peter had a feeling they would not find him there. If David had reconnected with Ashe, he would be with his family.

Peter parked the car and the three of them got out.

“Check the names on the door buzzers. I doubt David used his real name, but if any of them are blank or look brand new we should check them out.”

Peter and Vanessa took the apartment building nearest the car and Agatha went across the street.

“You don’t think this is Landon’s fault, do you?” Vanessa asked as Peter scanned the names of the apartment’s tenants.

“You tell me,” he replied. Most of the labels were yellowed with age, the ink used to write on them bluish and smudged. Only one lacked a name.

“I don’t know why you hate him so much,” Vanessa said. “He’s been keeping us fed better than you have.”

“Because he stole our supplier,” Peter replied as he pushed the nameless buzzer. The voice that answered was female. He wondered if she lived alone, and if she’d be missed were he to go up there and surprise her. His mouth watered.

“Sorry, wrong apartment,” Peter replied into the intercom, banishing the dark thoughts from his mind.

He waved Vanessa to follow him back to the car, telling her, “You shouldn’t trust anything that man says or does. He’s a snake, and we’re better than that. Did you know his family was still hunting out in the country before we moved here?”

Vanessa shrugged him off and went to join Agatha at the car.

“He wasn’t there,” Agatha said sullenly as they got back into the car.

Peter pulled out onto the street, planning to circle back to the city hospital for the second time. He was out of ideas.

Vanessa was already busy talking on the phone to Landon; it sounded like. Peter tried to control his disgust. He didn’t like the smile playing across Vanessa’s lips as she listened to whatever the asshole was saying.

Vanessa removed the phone from her ear. “I need you to drop me off at Landon’s. No, never mind. I can walk from our house. Yeah, let’s go back to the house.” She sounded anxious and Peter tried not to read too much into it. She was free to date whoever she wanted to, whether Peter approved or not. In any case, he was glad for a break from the search for David.

Ashe sat quietly on the high-backed wooden chair trying hard not to cry. Landon lounged on an antique velvet sofa across from her, an amused grin curling up the corners of his mouth. It was dark outside, but there were few lights on in the room, making the shadows around them long and sinister. Ashe didn’t know how long she had been here, only that she wasn’t allowed to leave.

“Shouldn’t you tie her up or something?”

A woman came into the room. She couldn’t have been a college student, but she must have still been in her twenties or at the very most thirty. She had long black hair and green-grey eyes that Ashe thought looked like Peter’s.

“Don’t worry, Vanessa. She knows I’m faster than her and if she tries to run I drain her,” Landon said casually.

Ashe felt stupid for having gone to meet Landon. He had tricked her and threatened her into following him to his house. He was a vampire after all and now he was going to kill her, or worse, turn her.

“Why did you bring me here?” Ashe asked. “If this has something to do with Peter, you’re wasting your time.”

“I know about your fight,” Landon said. “I have visions sometimes. Precognition.” He tapped his temple with a long finger. “Why do you think I called when I did? I thought you’d be vulnerable after finding out about Peter’s dirty little secret. But this isn’t about Peter. This is about your father.”

Ashe suddenly felt dizzy. She should have known her father wouldn’t be able to leave the vampire world so easily.

Vanessa moved to the sofa to sit next to Landon. He put his arm around the back of the sofa where she sat. “You know what he is, don’t you?” she asked.

Ashe nodded nervously. “But what does it have to do with me?”

“You’re insurance, collateral for a debt that needs to be paid,” Landon replied lazily. He crossed one leg over the other as he spoke. “Our clans are getting hungry and we need the blood David supplies us. As soon as he gets us the blood, he can have you back. If he doesn’t give us the blood, you’ll take its place. We’ve got a lot of mouths to feed and you’ve only got eight pints of blood in you. There are ways of keeping you alive while we drain you. We’ve had centuries to perfect the practice.”

Vanessa leaned in towards Landon and whispered into his ear, but Ashe was close enough to hear her. “Have you called him yet?” she asked.

Landon replied in a regular voice. “No, I’m going to have the girl do it.”

He handed his phone to Ashe and she could hear it already ringing on the other end as she accepted it.

“Tell him what we told you. He has to deliver the blood here by midnight, or we’re taking yours instead.”

Ashe held the phone to her ear with a shaking hand. After a while, her father’s voice came on the line.

“Landon, I told you I’m done. Stop calling me.”

“Dad?” Ashe said in a scared voice, “It’s me, Ashe.”

“Ashe? What are you doing with Landon’s phone? Is everything okay?”

Ashe felt like she was going to cry, but she didn’t want Landon to have the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. “I’m at Landon’s house. He said he wants the blood you owe him. If you do that by midnight, I can go home with you. If you don’t, he’s going to—”

Ashe was unable to finish her thought.

Her father sounded like he was trying to remain calm for her sake, though his panic was all too obvious. “Okay. I’ll be there. Hang on.”

“And tell Mom I’m sorry,” Ashe cried. “I know we only fought so much because we loved each other. Tell her I never blamed her for you leaving.”

David’s voice cracked as he replied, “Stop saying those things. You can tell her yourself when I bring you home. Landon hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No,” Ashe replied. “Please come soon.”

“Are you alone? How many of them are there?”

Ashe had only seen two of them, but Landon had made references to the rest of his clan and she assumed that they were nearby. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Landon and a woman are with me.”

Vanessa snatched the phone from Ashe’s hand and shoved it at Landon. “I think he got the message.”

Landon shrugged and put the phone into his pocket. “And now, we wait,” he said.

Ashe hoped that her father would get there soon and that they would let her leave as promised. She feared that they would never let him free; that they would keep using Ashe to threaten him into working for them until she grew old and died. She didn’t think she could handle always being in danger like that. Even now she was on the brink of bursting into terrified tears.

Vanessa stood and left the room. Ashe could hear her footsteps going downstairs. When she came back she was holding an empty wine glass cloudy with dust. “You’re out of blood,” she said.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Landon replied sharply.

“I can smell it,” Vanessa whined. “I can smell her blood.” She stalked up behind Ashe who instinctively flinched away. “How about just a taste? No one has to know. I won’t drink enough to hurt her.” She clutched the back of Ashe’s chair. Her long nails dug into the wood and left score marks.

“No,” Landon refused. “The others will wake at the smell of blood. They’ll wonder why you’re feeding without them and be angry. I can’t hold them all off at once. She’ll be torn to shreds.”

Vanessa pouted and retreated back out of the room.

Landon leaned forward, placing his hand on Ashe’s knee. She jerked it out of his grip and glared at him.

“If you want, I could turn you,” he said in a low voice. He glanced behind her towards the kitchen before continuing. “Vanessa might not like it much, but I have a feeling her clan’s not going to be around here much longer. It was her plan, you know, bringing you here. But she has no idea of just how much I’ve taken a liking to you.”

Ashe felt sick. She despised Landon and all of his kind. He was just as bad as Peter. No, not quite. Whereas Peter had purposely lied to Ashe, Landon was being completely transparent about his intentions towards her. He didn’t pretend he had her best interests at heart. He only wanted her for his own satisfaction, for the blood flowing in her veins.

“I’d never become one of you,” Ashe replied. “I’d rather die first.”

Landon chuckled to himself. “You may just have your wish,” he said as a commotion from downstairs brought him to his feet. Ashe instinctively moved to follow him, but he gestured her back down into the chair. “No, you stay here.” He left the room.

Ashe waited nervously, her knees pressed together as she picked at the fraying edges of the holes in her jeans. She tried to think of a way out, but she knew Landon would always be two steps ahead of her. He had seen her fight with Peter before it had happened and there was no telling how far his power extended. She listened for footsteps before slowly standing from her chair and creeping toward the window. The outside wall of the house was sheer, with no overhangs or footholds between her window and the ground. Ashe guessed that even if she fell straight down, the muddy grass would break her fall enough to prevent a twisted ankle. She undid the latch at the top of the window and pushed it open. It slid upwards as if greased and Ashe let out a breath of relief that it hadn’t squeaked or gotten stuck halfway. She took one last look towards the ground below and steeled herself, summoning the courage she needed to make her escape.

The sounds from downstairs were getting closer and before Ashe could commit to the jump she could hear footsteps on the stairs. She slammed the window shut and went back to her chair; trying to steady her nervous breathing before Landon and whomever he was with entered the room.

Two new women were with him, along with Vanessa. One was a double of Vanessa herself, with long black hair and eyes like Peter’s. The other had a predatory grin on her face that made Ashe shrink back in her chair. Her canines were razor sharp and the hollows in her cheeks made her look like a corpse. She may have been breathtakingly beautiful once, but now she seemed ill and the old-fashioned, almost Victorian dress she wore did her no favors. Her black hair was pinned up intricately in a style fitting her ancient clothing.

“How long until we feast?” the woman asked, eying Ashe like she was a prime cut of steak.

“Yeah, you promised us blood,” the one who looked a lot like Vanessa added. “I doubt David’s coming. Let’s drain the girl and get it over with. We’re in too much pain for this to go on much longer.”

Landon growled, “No. I already told Vanessa we can’t do anything until we know for sure. David’s loyalty to us is too valuable. We wait until midnight.”

She snarled at Landon, but said nothing more. Ashe could see the hunger in her eyes, and as the two women settled onto the sofa across from her, she prayed that Landon would not leave her alone with them. Ashe knew that Landon was the only one keeping them from tearing her limb from limb, if only until midnight.

There was a difference between vampires like Landon and those like Peter, but Ashe had been too blind to see it until it was too late. She didn’t want to die without Peter knowing how much he really meant to her. It had broken her heart to say those things to him at the church, but by the time she had realized this, the words had already been said and Peter had gone. She would have given anything for one last look into Peter’s eyes to tell him she was sorry and that she hadn’t meant to hurt him the way she had. It wasn’t his fault he was what he was.

The house was quiet; too quiet. Peter had drifted off for what had seemed like mere moments, lying on his bed trying to forget the sharp pangs in his stomach. But it was already dark and there was no sign of the rest of his clan. Peter feared that his sisters were out on the hunt and in the morning, they would have to leave the city to flee the trail of bodies leading right to their doorstep. He regretted that he hadn’t been able to apologize to Ashe and that he would be leaving her feeling betrayed. The memory of her face when had she told him to go away still haunted him; its pain was something he would never forget.

His mother and father were still in the basement, lying in bed as if stricken with the flu. The pallor over their faces was like a death mask and his mother’s eyes barely fluttered open when he called their names.

“Don’t wake your father,” she whispered as Peter leaned in close.

Peter nodded. “Where is everyone?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

His mother feebly shook her head, giving Peter all the answer he needed.

“It’s okay, I’ll find them.” He turned to leave.

“Lock the basement door on your way out,” his mother said. “And find your sisters and bring them home.”

Peter did as he was told and turned the bolt on the basement door behind him. Vivid images of his father’s last hunt flashed through Peter’s mind as he tried to think of where his sisters might have gone. If they were out hunting, they could be anywhere in the city. It would be impossible to track them down unless Peter heard screaming or the wail of police sirens. They may have gone to campus where it would be easy to lure lone male students out into the quiet churchyard or the park by the hospital. Or they may have gone to a bar to pick out victims.

Then Peter remembered the phone call Vanessa received in the car and her request to be dropped off at Landon’s house. Was it possible they were all there together? This whole blood mess had started with Landon and it seemed fitting that it would end with him.

Peter rushed out the front door and into the night. A brisk wind tugged at his coat as he ran down the sidewalk. He would be lucky if they were still there when he arrived, but he was desperate and could think of no other place they might be. As Peter turned onto Landon’s street, he could see that there were lights on in his house. The front-facing windows of the first and second floors burned brightly in the darkness, giving Peter the glimmer of hope that he so badly needed.

He was nearly at the house when a car swerved onto the curb inches from running him over. The driver got out and Peter saw that it was David, clutching a paper sack to his chest and looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” David asked, his voice frantic.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Peter growled. He had wasted all afternoon looking for David and here he was on his way to make a delivery to Landon. Peter could have jumped over the car and strangled him.

“I thought you cared about Ashe,” David said. “Why would you use her like this?”

Peter had no idea what David was talking about, but the fear in his tone was infectious. “What the hell is going on?” Peter demanded.

“Ashe was right. You’re all monsters. You kidnapped my daughter and threatened to hurt her, all for a few bags of blood. I know I messed up too, but I can make everything right, I promise. I have the blood right here. It’s not midnight yet. You don’t need to hurt her. Please don’t hurt her.” David broke into desperate sobs and tried to shove the paper bag towards Peter over the hood of the car. A blood bag fell out and started leaking black blood onto the metal. Peter tried to ignore the alluring smell of it and the desperate ache in his bones to drink it up.

A sick unease came over him as he tried to make sense of David’s frantic babbling. Was it really possible Landon could have kidnapped Ashe and was using her to extort blood from David? If Landon had hurt even a hair on Ashe’s head, he would have hell to pay for it.

“I’m not here for the blood,” Peter said, shoving the bag back towards David. “I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt. That includes your daughter.”

David took the paper bag up in his arms, clutching it to his chest like a newborn baby. “They’ve got her inside, I think. I need to deliver the blood or they’ll take hers instead. I should have known I’d never be able to stop working for you.”

“Not me. Landon,” Peter said. The distinction was important. Peter wasn’t one of the monsters. Ashe meant the world to Peter and he would have done anything to keep her safe. His own immortality was worth nothing if it meant hurting her. Ashe had not only shown Peter his own darkness, but the light that came with it. She was the reason that Peter had not succumbed to his hunger like his sisters had. She made him more human than he would have ever thought possible. If he lost her, Peter too would be lost. 

“Your clan’s a part of it too,” David replied.

Peter didn’t care who was involved. Time was ticking away and the cutthroats had Ashe at their mercy. If his sisters were there, they would go down with Landon. He would destroy them all if he had to. He realized now that no amount of pain could equal that of losing Ashe.

“You need to get back in your car and wait there,” Peter instructed David. “We’re going to need that blood you brought, but only after I know that Ashe is safe. I promise I’ll bring back your daughter.”

David looked like he was about to protest, but reluctantly got back into his car with the paper bag. Peter turned and sprinted towards the house, not stopping until his fists were banging against the front door. The wood started to splinter, but Peter didn’t care. Nothing would keep him from saving Ashe.

“Landon, you bastard, open up!” he shouted through the wood.

The door opened suddenly and Peter almost tumbled through, but the person standing there was not Landon but Penelope. She had a dark tinge of red along her lower lip and an evil glint in her eye. “So you came to the party after all.”

Peter shoved his way past her. “Where’s Ashe?” he demanded.

Vanessa came into the entryway, with Agatha behind her.

“She’s upstairs with Landon,” Vanessa said. “He’s looking after her because this one couldn’t keep her hands to herself.” She shot a piercing glare at Penelope. “We’re not allowed up there anymore. It’s only the two of them.”

Peter sensed a bit of jealousy in the way his sister spoke. He too felt a twinge of it in his gut. He knew Landon could be charming and tried not to imagine how Landon had lured Ashe here in the first place. It was torture, like a hot knife in his chest.

But more importantly, the blood around Penelope’s mouth was no doubt Ashe’s, and Peter knew the taste of it would only make his sister hungrier. He pushed past his sisters, who hissed in protest as he mounted the stairs. He could see the light on in one of the rooms through the crack under the door. Peter wrenched the door open to find Landon leaning down over Ashe and holding a wad of gauze bandages to her slender neck. Scarlet blood was already flowering across their whiteness and Ashe’s face looked alarmingly pale. A window was open—to let the smell of blood out of the room— but it wasn’t doing much good. Landon looked as though he was drunk on Ashe’s scent and Peter wondered if he had taken a taste as well.

“Good, you’re here,” Landon smiled. He placed a tender kiss on Ashe’s forehead before straightening up. Peter’s fists clenched at his sides. Ashe wavered but managed to remain upright in her chair. She had clearly lost too much blood already.

“Get away from her,” Peter shouted. He crossed the room to get to Ashe, forcing Landon to back away from her. Landon made no protest, only smiling as if amused at Peter’s anger. Every second wasted was another that Ashe was in danger.

“I’m not the one you should be angry at,” Landon said. “It was David’s fault for trying to weasel out of his obligation to our clan. And your sisters, I told you I’d take care of them. Maybe all this is really your fault. If David had never reconnected with his family, he wouldn’t have tried to cheat us of our blood. You’re the one who couldn’t keep things to yourself. You just had to get involved in the petty human drama around you. What does it matter if one more girl lives her life broken and unloved? She’ll be dead in what, fifty, sixty years? Human lives are so short they’re not worth trying to fix. You should know that by now.”

Ashe was softly sobbing as she held the bandages to her neck. Peter wanted to put his arms around her, but feared the scent of her blood would drive him crazy. He was afraid to test which was stronger at the moment: his love or his hunger.

Landon chuckled. “Though I have to admit I had my fun too. I toyed with her, got her to trust me, and it was all too easy to get her to my house once you two had your little argument. She tastes better than I imagined.”

Before Landon could continue, Peter swung his fist. It landed square against Landon’s jaw with a satisfying crack. Landon reeled back, caught off-guard by Peter’s punch. Peter took the opportunity to shove him to the ground, following through with more fists to the face.

Landon fought back, wrenching himself out from under Peter. The two grappled for the upper hand, smashing against furniture and walls as they fought. A table leg buckled and broke as Peter threw Landon against it. Peter matched Landon in strength, but Landon’s precognition gave him the advantage of speed.

Peter swung at Landon and missed. Landon grabbed the broken-off table leg from the floor, brandishing it like a knife. Peter knew that if he made even one false step, he would die with that wood lodged through his heart. He tried to create some distance between himself and Landon, but it was the wrong move. The floor was strewn with the debris of their fight and Peter had to glance down to avoid tripping. Landon lunged at him and Peter knew it was the end. His only wish was that he could have saved Ashe from the horrors that were to come.

Peter braced for the killing blow, but it never came. Landon stopped short, looking confused. He dropped the wooden table leg with a small gasp and looked down. Peter followed his gaze to see black blood oozing from a wound in his thigh. Ashe still had hold of the blunt end of the wooden shard, looking like she was about to pass out. She let go of the weapon as Landon stumbled backwards clutching his leg. Peter rushed over to catch her before she tumbled to the floor.

“You bitch,” Landon spat. Landon pulled the wood from his leg with a grimace and stabbed at Peter, but this time Peter was ready. He knocked the wood from Landon’s hand with ease.

“Ever since I moved here, you’ve been nothing but a nuisance,” Peter said in a low voice. “And now I finally have the chance to get rid of you.” His blood was boiling with fury and he would not hold back, not after what Landon had done to Ashe. Landon would pay for all of it.

Peter took a step forward and Landon dashed for the open window. He heaved himself over the ledge before Peter could catch him. Peter heard a distant thud and rushed to the window to catch a glimpse of a dark shape disappearing out of view down the street. Peter wanted to track him down and finish him off, but Ashe’s weak moans reminded Peter of what was most important.

He turned away from the window and knelt down to look at Ashe’s bite wound. He pulled back the gauze and immediately regretted it. The tang of blood filled the air and it was all Peter could do to keep the hunger at bay.

“They said I had until midnight. They lied,” Ashe mumbled.

Peter put his hand to her cheek. He could feel her warm tears under his fingers. “You don’t have to talk. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be okay. Your dad’s here with the delivery. He’ll give it to the others and everything will be okay. We’ll let your family go. You owe us no debt.”

“I’m sorry for everything I said and I’m sorry I was so angry at you. I didn’t understand any of it, of what being a vampire meant. You fought for me. You saved me.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” Peter said. It was impossible to ignore the scent of Ashe’s blood. He swallowed hard and leaned down towards her neck, feeling an irresistible pull towards the still-fresh wound. He opened his mouth, then with incredible effort closed his lips and let them graze Ashe’s soft skin above the wound. He would not hurt her. He loved her.

Ashe held him close as his mouth found hers. Through tears she kissed him with all of the passion they had both held back since the day on the roof. Peter found he had completely forgotten about his hunger. All he wanted was to hold Ashe in his arms knowing that she was his and he was hers. They wouldn’t have to say goodbye to each other, not today. Not ever. Relief flooded Peter as he let his desire for her free of its restraints.

Peter finally broke the kiss, remembering his sisters were still downstairs and knowing that Ashe needed medical attention for the bite on her neck.

“I have to call David,” he managed to say before forcing himself to stand. There was a smudge of Ashe’s blood on his finger as he dialed the phone and he hastily wiped it on his jeans. Though he knew he was stronger than temptation, he didn’t like being reminded of just how close he had come.

Peter walked towards the door as the phone rang. He needed to know what had become of Penelope, Agatha, and Vanessa.

“Don’t leave me,” Ashe whimpered, using the chair to prop herself up to standing.

“I won’t leave you,” Peter replied. “Not ever.”

The woman who had bitten Ashe was lying on the floor of the kitchen as if drunk, empty pint bags of blood littering the floor around her. The other two women were sitting sullenly in the living room, having been thoroughly yelled at by Peter. They each nursed tall wine glasses full of blood, looking like they were sick of its taste. Ashe had no doubt it was the guilt that had put them off their dinner. Ashe had mixed feelings about knowing they were Peter’s sisters and was not feeling especially generous about giving them the benefit of the doubt.

Ashe sucked in a breath as the needle pierced her vein. Her father was administering blood from one of the last remaining bags to replace what had been lost earlier. Peter sat by her side squeezing her hand, his brows furrowed under his dark bangs. She pushed them out of the way for him with a gentle hand.

“I didn’t understand before, but now I do,” Ashe said. “It’s not your fault that you need to drink blood, just like it’s not my fault I need to eat food or breathe air.”

“You don’t have to—” Peter started.

Ashe waved away his protest. “No, just listen. You need my dad to get blood for you, right? I’ve seen what happens when your kind goes hungry and I don’t want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.”

David withdrew the needle from Ashe’s arm and put a bandage in its place. “I want to make an honest living for you and your mother. I’m done with this life.”

“No, she’s right,” Peter agreed. “We can’t ignore what we are and hope it goes away. We need people like you to make sure we don’t hurt those around us. This stolen blood is the only insurance against us losing control like we did tonight.”

“It’s okay, Dad. As long as you promise the blood is clean. No harming humans to get it,” Ashe said. She was already feeling stronger from the transfusion and the color was returning to her cheeks.

David sighed and scratched his chin. He nodded. “Fine, but your mom’s not going to like us moving around all the time. In this line of work, we can’t afford to stay in one place for too long. I know you’re graduating this spring, but if I have to move to a new city before that will you be okay here on your own?”

If her father had to move, that meant Peter would go with him too. Ashe didn’t like the idea of being apart from Peter, but then she remembered that she was mere weeks from getting kicked out of the school anyway. She was still short on tuition.

“Of course, if that happens we’ll get you a place on campus,” her father continued. “Your mother already told me about the financial situation and I’ve got it taken care of with the dean’s office. I’ve been running a pretty lucrative business these past few years, believe it or not.”

Peter snorted at this and Ashe couldn’t help but smile. She wondered just how much Peter’s clan was paying her father for the blood. Judging by his old grey coat and rumpled hat David didn’t seem to be wealthy, but looks could be deceiving.

“I’d better check on the others,” David said.

He packed up the blood transfusion kit and gave Ashe a small hug. “Your mom says she’s sorry too,” he muttered into her ear as his arm wrapped gently around her.

Ashe felt a swell of warmth in her heart, the first steps towards healing that ache that had been in there for so long.

As David left, there was a lightness to his step that hadn’t been there before. Things were finally starting to look up, for the both of them.

Peter put his arm around Ashe. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere without you,” he said. “I’ve seen how much trouble you can get into when I leave you on your own.”

Ashe wiggled out from under his arm and gave a look of mock-anger. “You’re already making jokes about this? I’ve still got bite marks in my neck.”

“Well, at least you’re going to ace that final paper for Professor Sharp’s class. Vampires, right?”

Ashe made a face. Sometimes Peter’s confident attitude could be infuriating.

“But seriously,” Peter said, taking both of Ashe’s hands in his. “I’m never going to leave your side and I’m never going to let what happened tonight repeat itself. I know your lifespan and mine are on completely different scales, but I promise to protect you as long as you live. I love you Ashe and I want to be with you.”

Ashe fell into his embrace, not caring about the lack of heartbeat or the coldness of his arms around her. She felt loved, and protected, and that feeling warmed her more than anything physical could. There was still so much she didn’t know about Peter and his kind, but her heart was open and she was ready to learn. For the first time in perhaps ever, Ashe found herself looking forward to what the future held.

The End of Book 1

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The Vampire’s Embrace

The Touch of Night:

Book 2

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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© Copyright 2017 by Persia Publishing - All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 1

It was just after dawn on a day that Ashe had thought would never come. The sun had finished its struggle over the horizon and was now battling the thick blanket of clouds that settled in over the city every November and stayed until March. The house was filled with a pale light as anemic as Ashe felt. She knew she would have to ask her father for more blood, but wanted to put it off as long as possible. After coming home, she had changed into new clothes and washed the blood from her skin, but she still felt the traces of the night before permeating her body and making her feel unclean. Only Peter’s presence by her side reassured her that she would survive this as she had survived everything else.

Ashe’s mother was downstairs crying. Her father was talking in soothing tones that drifted up to the second floor, landing where Ashe sat with her head in her hands and Peter’s arm around her. Her mother had been crying since Ashe, David, and Peter had come to the house bloodied and exhausted from their encounter with Landon’s clan. Ashe knew she would have to go downstairs and talk with her mother eventually, but she was waiting for her father to calm her down enough for the words to get through. It was going to take a lot of explaining to justify Ashe’s decision to let David continue working for the vampires. She decided to leave the talk about her and Peter’s relationship for another day.

Peter cradled Ashe’s head to his chest and breathed in deeply, which helped to make up for his lack of a heartbeat. Ashe melted into him and slipped her arm around his back.

“Maybe we should go back down there,” Peter whispered into her hair as the voices quieted downstairs.

Ashe held him tighter. “Can’t we rest a little first?”

“You know we can’t. But I promise you can sleep as long as you want when we’re done. I won’t even wake you to finish your homework for Sharp’s class on Monday.”

School was the last thing on Ashe’s mind right now. It was almost silly that her biggest worry until all this happened had been failing to graduate.

Peter helped her up from the step where they were sitting and walked with her downstairs. Her mother was at the kitchen table with a hot cup of tea cradled in her hands and her father was in the chair opposite, regarding his wife with concern. Ashe’s mother’s eyes were puffy from all the crying. Ashe wanted to give her a hug but felt like her mom would flinch away if she didn’t explain a few things first.

“I told her what I could,” David said as he noticed Ashe standing there, wondering where to start. “She knows about Landon.”

Stevie Linfield was not known for being a strong woman, though she had weathered being a single mother to Ashe far better than her daughter ever gave her credit for. One look at the bite wound on Ashe’s neck and she had nearly fainted from shock. Ashe knew her mother’s biggest worry would be infection; that Ashe was now a vampire and would no longer be able to live out a normal life. As if any of this was normal to begin with.

“Mom,” Ashe said in a tentative voice. Stevie looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. Peter’s put his arm around Ashe’s shoulders, giving her the confidence to continue. “It’s alright. I’m not hurt. I’m not... one of them.” She glanced apologetically at her father sitting at the table.

Her mother took a quivering sip of her tea but did not look at Ashe.

David reached across the table to grasp his wife’s hand. “Stevie, honey. Our daughter has something to say to you. I think you should listen to her.”

Ashe spoke again, stronger. “I know you’re worried about me, worried that you’re going to lose me like you lost Dad. If it’s not graduating college or a vampire bite that takes me away from you, it’ll be something else. I have to grow up eventually.”

“I know,” her mother replied quietly. “Your dad said the same thing. But he doesn't know you like I do. He didn’t watch you grow up. You’re still just a child, Ashe. I mean, look at what happened to you.” Stevie’s eyes filled with fresh tears.

“Stevie,” David said warningly, but Ashe didn’t need her father’s help with this. She knew what needed to be said and she was no longer too embarrassed to say it face to face.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Ashe said, her words coming out far harsher than she had meant them to. She forced herself to calm down before continuing. “I blamed you for Dad leaving, but it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t mine either. I love you and I’m sorry for everything. But you have to start to trust me.”

“She saved my life,” Peter said suddenly.

Ashe’s mother looked at Peter as if she had just realized he was there.

Peter explained. “When I was fighting with Landon, I slipped up and he almost got me, but Ashe saved me. Even frightened and injured, she found the strength to fight. I don’t think you have to worry about sending your daughter out into the world. She’s a fine young woman and she can take care of herself. Besides—” Peter squeezed Ashe’s shoulder— “I’ve already promised her I’ll protect her as long as she lives. That is, of course, if you’re both okay with that.”

Ashe’s father’s face immediately broke into a smile, but her mother just stared as if she’d been struck in the face.

“You’re one of them, though,” her mother said.

Ashe felt red in the cheeks.

Peter didn’t try to contradict her. “Yes, and so is your husband. Think about what he’s done to protect your family. I will do nothing less for Ashe and you have my word that my clan has made the same promise. No harm will come to her as long as I’m by her side.”

Stevie went back to staring at her tea. Ashe knew she had a lot to process and wanted to give her the time to do so.

“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? You’ve been up all night,” David told his wife. Ashe hoped her mother would take the suggestion, as she looked just as weary as the rest of them. She must have spent all night waiting up for them, not knowing where they were and worried sick.

Stevie stood unsteadily and teetered past Ashe into the other room. When she was fully out of earshot, David said, “Peter, we need to discuss a few things. First of all, your family.”

He motioned for the two of them to join him at the kitchen table. Peter took the chair across from her father where her mother had been sitting only moments ago. Ashe, however, declined to sit, instead deciding to busy herself with refilling the pot of tea on the counter.

David cleared his throat. “I’ve been working for your family for a long time now and I like to think I know them well.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Which is why I worry about them. Your clan is fighting a losing battle as it is. How many years have you gone without a live feeding?”

Ashe purposely clanged the metal teapot down hard on the stovetop to mask any answer Peter might have given. It wasn’t time for her to start digging into his past. He would tell her in his own time.

“The point is,” David said, sighing. “You may be satisfying the immediate hunger with the blood I provide you, but you’re doing nothing to stop the underlying cravings. Refrigerated blood sucked out of a plastic bag is nothing compared to the warm vitality of the real thing. You have a reason to protect Ashe and the humans around you, but I don’t think your family feels the same way. They’re listening to you for now because they love you, but if they can’t find their own reasons for protecting human life, they’ll soon revert to the old ways.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair. Ashe could see the long years of his existence in his solemn expression. “My sisters can be impulsive, but they’re not a threat.”

“Even Penelope?” David asked.

The teapot started to whistle and Ashe jumped. She quickly took it off the stove.

Peter replied, “Landon manipulated her. He manipulated all of them. That’s what his clan does. I love your daughter and I barely made it out of there without making an irrevocable mistake. Penelope didn’t know what Ashe means to me, but she knows now. You have my word she won’t harm her.”

“Then I’ll keep you to your word,” David warned.

Ashe came over with the teapot and refilled her father’s mug before taking the empty seat by Peter’s side. David nodded at her in thanks. Without his usual hat, he looked almost small. His curly hair came up in wisps from the top of his head, giving him a halo under the kitchen light. Ashe thought about just how delicate they all were, the vampires, even if they were somewhat immortal. They needed Ashe just as she needed them. She would be their reminder of the importance of human life.

“Landon’s still out there, too,” David said.

Ashe had a flashback of Landon jumping out the window and running away from the house. He could be anywhere right now.

Peter frowned. “He’s hurt. He won’t be showing his face any time soon. His clan doesn’t like confrontation. They’ll probably lie low until we leave town.”

“I still don’t like the idea of them out there,” David said. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t stay in the city.”

Ashe protested. “I’m not leaving. I want to graduate. You said you would help me pay for my last semesters here.” She was so close to getting her degree and if she moved schools now she’d lose half her credits and be stuck in school another year. Maybe it was okay for Peter to repeat classes over and over, but Ashe didn’t have eternity. She was getting older year by year and she couldn’t stay in school forever.

David looked sympathetic but shook his head. “I made that promise before I had a chance to think it through. If Landon’s clan is still around, we simply can’t risk it. I won’t put you in danger again.”

Ashe knew her mother must have said something, and that was why her dad was now second-guessing himself. It was her mother’s worry, not David’s.

“Believe me, they’re gone,” Peter said. Ashe was relieved to know he was on her side, though she knew it would take more than Peter’s word to convince her parents.

David sipped his tea. “We’ll see,” he said.

Peter nodded at Ashe to leave David to his thoughts. Nothing more could be accomplished with all of them as exhausted as they were. He got up from his chair and Ashe followed.

Once they were alone on the upper landing, Peter said, “Your mom cares about you a lot, even if she can’t say it right now. Your dad does too.”

“I know,” Ashe replied, pushing open the door to her room. Though she understood why her parents were fighting her, it didn’t make her any more inclined to listen to them.

Ashe was weary and her bones felt like lead. It seemed like forever since she had last slept. All she could think about was her nice, warm bed. She crawled under the covers, feeling her body sink into the mattress. It was like heaven.

Peter lingered by the doorway looking unsure of what to do. Ashe pulled back the covers a bit. “I don’t know if your kind naps, but I’d really like you with me right now. I don't think I could sleep otherwise.”

Peter smiled softly and went to the bed. “Lucky for you, we do sleep.” He scooted in beside Ashe and she curled up by his side. His strong arm wrapped around her waist and held her close to him. After everything that had happened, she was glad to have him by her side. The worst was past them and now they could focus on the future. Ashe tried to ignore the worrying thoughts in her head about where Landon had gone and what the rest of his clan was up to. She tried not to feel anger towards Peter’s sisters for something she knew wasn’t their fault: even Penelope who had bitten her. Such problems could wait until after she slept.

The bite wound in her neck throbbed and her head felt like it was filled with shards of glass, but she let the muscles of her body relax and her mind let go of consciousness. It only took a few minutes of listening to Peter’s even, practiced breathing for Ashe to fall into her own state of relaxation. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.

It was nearly dark when Peter opened his eyes. He looked at Ashe, who was curled up asleep, with her head nestled in the crook of his arm. She felt so warm against his skin, so alive. Peter was glad that he no longer felt the desire for her blood, not since David gave his clan all the blood that had been promised to Landon’s. Peter had no idea what had happened to Landon’s clan. He was under the impression that most of them had a place out of the city where they spent most of their time. Landon had mentioned such a place in passing before. They would have other sources of blood out there, ones that were not so kind. Peter didn’t want to think about what Landon might be doing, right about now, as the sun was sinking into darkness below the horizon.

Ashe stirred and moaned. Peter placed a small kiss on her forehead as she woke. She smiled and sat up a bit in bed. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Almost dark,” Peter replied. He glanced over to her bedside table. “A little after six.”

Ashe rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up more fully. She yawned. All the little human habits she had, like yawning, were a wonder to him. He found them adorable. She also tossed and turned quite a bit in her sleep, Peter had found, and he wondered if her dreams had been troubled with visions of the things that had happened to them. He hoped not.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“A little out of it,” Ashe said. “But not tired anymore.”

Peter glanced toward the curtained windows. He could see a slit of pale bluish light where they hadn’t closed all the way. Apparently the sun had just set.

“I kept dreaming about Landon,” Ashe said, hugging her arms around herself.

“Me too,” Peter nodded. He hadn’t dreamed so much as worried. He doubted he had even slept a couple of hours in all that time.

Ashe brushed down her hair, which had been mussed while she slept. “We need to go back to the house,” she said.

“The clan will be long gone,” Peter replied. “If they were there at all to begin with.”

“Maybe there’s something that could tell us where he went, to convince Dad that it’s safe for us to stay here.”

Peter had to admit that she had a point. Landon would be on the run right now and not thinking straight. He would have fled to any place he knew to be even remotely safe. Maybe there was something at his house that could tell them where the clan spent their time in the country. If it was far enough away, this calmed David’s fears about them coming back any time soon.

“Okay, but we can’t let your parents know. David wouldn’t want you getting involved in anything dangerous again.”

Ashe got out of bed and pulled on a sweater before searching for her discarded shoes. The sweater was the black one Peter liked, with the holes in it. She went over to the window and, pulling the curtains aside, shimmied it open. A blast of cold air came in the room, making Ashe draw in a sharp breath.

“You sure you want to do this?” Peter asked, coming up behind her.

Ashe nodded. “I won’t be able to rest if we don’t,” she replied.

There was a tree outside Ashe’s window, its thick branches bearing the last few brown leaves from fall. It wouldn’t be too long before a thin veil of snow replaced the leaves. Ashe climbed through the open window with confidence and lowered herself down until the soles of her shoes made firm contact with a tree branch below.

“You don’t need any help?” Peter called from above.

Ashe shook her head and with a look of determination let go of the windowsill. She tottered for a moment before grabbing hold of another branch to her left. She gave a thumbs-up to Peter and then a sign to keep quiet as he followed her. Peter had no trouble navigating the way down to the ground from Ashe’s second story window. He could have easily jumped the distance, but he didn't want to remind Ashe of Landon’s escape. Peter wanted so much to be human for her. If there was a cure for vampirism, he would have taken it in an instant. But there wasn’t and he had to make do and pretend for her sake that he was not so different from her after all.

Ashe landed on the grass with a soft thud and started off toward her dad’s car, which was sitting in the driveway.

“You don’t have the keys,” Peter whispered.

Ashe smiled and reached in the open window. Her hand came back with a ring of keys held in it. “He doesn’t think anyone would steal this piece of junk,” she said. Peter had to admit David was right. It was an old maroon sedan that even a car thief would have been embarrassed to drive to the chop shop.

Peter got in the passenger seat and Ashe put the car in neutral. It rolled at a snail’s pace backwards down the driveway toward the street.

“Something tells me you’ve done this before,” Peter commented.

Ashe only smiled that inscrutable smile of hers that Peter appreciated every time he saw it, even if he didn’t always understand the joke.

As they neared Landon’s house, Ashe slowed the car. Her face was set into a scowl and she seemed to be building up her courage to make it all the way there. Peter didn’t blame her. He wasn’t so eager to go inside himself. As much as he had reassured everyone that Landon’s clan had fled the city, doubt was starting to creep into his own mind. If somehow they had stayed and were in the house waiting, lurking...

Ashe parked the car a little ways down the street. There were no lights on in the windows and no sign of anyone, living or dead, inside. The street itself was dead quiet as well and Peter had an eerie sense that many of the houses now sat empty. Landon’s clan might have been far larger than he could have fathomed. Or maybe Landon had been the only one.

Peter got out of the car and waited for Ashe to join him on the sidewalk. He twined his fingers with hers as they approached the house. Even from afar, they could see that the front door stood ajar. Peter quickened his pace and, when he reached the door, did not hesitate to go inside. Ashe hung back on the doorstep.

Peter thought he heard her say his name. Her voice had sounded scared.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, her squeezing her hand.

Their footsteps were now oddly resonant in the house that had been loud with fighting only hours ago. The empty bags of blood were still strewn about the kitchen, as well as a small black puddle where Penelope had gorged herself. Despite her modest appearance, she could be a complete heathen, Peter thought. As much as he hated to admit it, Ashe was lucky to have gotten away with just a bite wound.

The kitchen was empty, as was the living room. They made a cursory sweep of the second floor as well but found nothing. When they got to the room where Landon had held Ashe hostage, Peter told her to wait outside.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I can handle it.”

The air inside the room was freezing; the window was still open as it had been when Landon had fled. Furniture lay in splintered ruins and the curtains were hanging half-way off the curtain rod.

“Did we really do all this?” Peter asked. He could barely remember the fight itself, only the desperate need to hurt Landon and protect Ashe at all costs. He also remembered the tang of Ashe’s blood in the air and felt sick to his stomach.

Ashe appeared at his side. “Come on, let’s go. There’s nothing here,” she said, taking his arm to lead him out of the room. Peter paused to pick up a broken table leg.

“Just in case,” he said to Ashe, who was eyeing him with concern.

It was now pitch dark and Peter wanted more than anything to turn on some lights, but he knew that if the clan was still nearby the lights would be an instant signal of their presence in the house. Ashe stayed close by his side as they searched the rest of the upstairs rooms, never letting go of his arm. She shouldn’t be here, Peter thought. He should have insisted she stay home. But if he had, he would have been no better than her parents. He would have to be able to protect her and trust her at the same time.

Back downstairs, Peter told Ashe, “We need to find a way down into the basement.”

“Why?” Ashe asked.

There was a small study off of the living room that had piqued Peter’s curiosity the first time through. He answered Ashe’s question as he approached it. “Vampires tend to sleep where the sun can’t get to them during the day. Basements are perfect for that. As we get older, we get more sensitive to sunlight. I’m still able to go out during the day fairly normally, but Vanessa, for example, wouldn’t survive a sunny day. Landon’s clan would have holed up somewhere underground until nightfall.”

“It’s already dark,” Ashe pointed out.

“Then we don’t have much time.”

Peter started searching the desk in the center of the room while Ashe wandered over to the wall of bookshelves on the side. Peter marveled at how she was drawn to the books even at a time like this. He could hear Ashe muttering to herself as her finger traced the spines of the dusty old tomes.

Peter pulled open drawer after drawer, looking for anything that could tell him where the clan’s hideaway was. If he could find that, there would be no need to go down into the basement. He could torch the house and then go to their lair in the country and take care of the remaining survivors. It would be easy to do and Ashe would never need to know.

There was a massive creaking noise and Peter looked up. Ashe was standing in front of an open doorway where a section of the bookshelf had once been.

She grinned when she saw his look of surprise. “It’s a bit cheesy, isn’t it?”

Peter couldn’t help smiling to himself. “It’s not cheesy, it’s classic.” He should have known Landon’s clan would have designed something like this. Though he had only ever met Landon, he could extrapolate what he knew of the man to the rest of the clan. They enjoyed being vampires, they thought it was all a game, and that was the most dangerous kind with which to deal. They were convinced they were truly immortal.

Beyond the doorway was a narrow staircase leading down to what Peter assumed to be the basement. Peter tightened his grip on the broken table leg and told Ashe to get behind him. “I know you’re not going to let me go down there alone,” Peter said in a low voice. “But it might be dangerous and you’re no match for a vampire let alone a whole clan of them. Stay upstairs until I tell you to, and if I tell you to run, then you run all the way back to the car and drive home without stopping.  Even if I’m not there with you.”

Ashe nodded in understanding, though she looked like she wanted to protest. Peter admired her courage, but courage wouldn’t be enough against a basement full of hungry vampires. He proceeded cautiously down the staircase, careful not to make a sound. When he reached the bottom, the darkness consumed him and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

The basement was empty. There were camping cots lined up along both walls and in the back Peter could see what looked like a carpentry workbench, but without the power tools. Peter proceeded cautiously forward, though he could see there was no one there. The wooden bench was deeply scored and stained in places with something dark. There were chains lying across it, which were secured by metal eyelets screwed into the wood. On the shelves above the bench were boxes of medical equipment, everything from IV drips to surgical scalpels and tongs.

Peter’s foot kicked a large glass jug on the floor and he winced in pain. Everything started to come together. It was a draining station, and from the looks of it they were in the practice of keeping their victims alive for days on end. Peter couldn’t imagine the torture.

“Peter, can I come down now?” Ashe called down from the stairway.

Peter hastily grabbed a blanket from a nearby cot and threw it over the workbench. “Yeah,” he called back. “I’m on my way up. There’s nothing down here.”

He turned to leave but Ashe was already at the bottom of the staircase. She was holding a bunch of papers in her hand. “I found these while you were down here,” she said.

Peter took the papers from her and flipped through them, they were the deeds to a house. Peter didn’t recognize the address, which was across the state line, nor any of the names listed under previous owners. He tried to remember Landon’s last name. It was something from the old world, something uncommon. Was it Alilovic? Peter traced the list, but there were no names even remotely similar, and the last entry was from 1957. Landon’s clan must have either taken up an abandoned house or disposed of its last owners before stealing the house for themselves. Either way, Peter now knew where the clan was and they were nowhere near the city. He hoped it would be enough to put David’s worry to rest.

Peter and Ashe left the empty house and got back into the car. Ashe started the engine and as they waited for the car to warm up, she said, “We haven’t had any time just to ourselves. You wanna go get something to eat?”

Peter gave her a look.

“I mean, you can watch me eat and then we’ll do something we both can enjoy. I found a pair of bolt cutters in the trunk of Dad’s car and no one’s going to be in the music building tonight, since it’s the weekend. It’s a clear night and we’ll be able to see the stars for miles.”

Ashe pulled onto the street and took a sharp U-turn towards the direction of the college. Peter felt like he couldn’t refuse, not that he wanted to anyways. Peter loved the new, more confident Ashe, just as much as he loved the quiet, cautious side that he had encountered when he first met her. He would have done anything for her, anything at all.

CHAPTER 2

Ashe lounged in an armchair with her laptop balanced on one armrest and a book on the other. Her feet were stretched out in front of her, resting on Peter’s knees in the chair opposite her. It was a slow kind of afternoon, but Ashe wasn’t about to give in to her laziness. It was the last spurt until winter break. All she had to do was finish her paper for English Literature, the topic of which had turned out to be, to Ashe’s dismay; Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. As if Ashe needed something dark like that to finish off the semester. She couldn’t help picturing Landon whenever imagining the sadistic protagonist, Heathcliff.

Peter stretched and Ashe lowered her feet. Though he had no more work to do before the semester’s end, he still kept her company every day in her corner of the student center as she banged away on her keyboard. For that she was infinitely thankful. But what she wanted most of all right now was some caffeine to get her through the afternoon.

“I’ll go get you some coffee,” Peter said, putting his book down. Lately they had been so in sync with each other’s feelings that Ashe sometimes wondered if Peter couldn’t read her thoughts. The coffee was only one instance in a growing number of coincidences that made Ashe feel like Peter was truly looking after her.

She watched him leave, still marveling at the fact that he was hers. Often when they walked together on campus Ashe noticed other girls looking at him. It was no secret that his mysterious green eyes and tall, lean body were on the radar of most of the girls on campus. If only they knew his real true nature!

She picked her book back up and flipped to the next dog-eared page without really reading the words on the page. For the first time, graduation was finally within her grasp. Not only were her grades where she needed them to be for her major, but her father had finally started to accept that Landon’s clan was no longer a threat. Wherever they were, they were not coming back to the city; at least for now. Ashe only needed enough time to graduate. After that she didn’t mind where they went, as long as Peter was with her.

Peter came back with a steaming cup of coffee, which he handed to Ashe with a smile. She carefully took a sip and was pleased to know that he had remembered her preference for three creams and no sugar.

He sat back down in his chair. “You know, we haven’t talked about what happens after.”

Ashe raised an eyebrow. “After what?”

“Graduation.” He answered.

It was true; Ashe had been so busy thinking about graduation itself that she hadn’t bothered to start planning for what she would do afterwards. She knew she would have to get a job but she didn't know what she was even remotely qualified for.

“What are you going to do?” Ashe asked.

Peter shrugged. “What I always do. If we don’t stay here, which seems likely, I’ll enroll at another school.”

“Aren’t you tired of being a student?” Ashe couldn’t imagine repeating college over and over. Four years was more than enough.

“I like going to school,” he said. “And besides, what would I do otherwise?”

“What did you do before?” Ashe asked.

Peter’s face took on a strange look, like he was both troubled and amused by her answer. “You’re avoiding my question. I asked what you’re going to do.”

Ashe gave up. Peter could be impossible to talk to if he wanted to. Ashe knew there were years, maybe decades, of Peter’s life that he would rather not share with her but she wanted to know him fully, in order to love every part of him. Even the parts that hurt the most.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” Ashe admitted. “I thought I would have by now, but it hasn’t really been a priority lately.” She also didn’t like the idea of overtaking Peter, of moving into the working world while he was still a student. It reminded her too much of their incongruent timelines, of the mere decades she had with him while he had eons to move on and love other people. Just thinking about it overwhelmed her and tears welled in her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Peter said soothingly, crouching by Ashe’s chair and taking up her hands. “Is something wrong?”

How could Ashe explain to him how much she already missed him?

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” Ashe confessed. “My life will go by in a blink for you. We can’t share growing up, or growing old, or most of the things any other couples get to experience together.”

Peter stroked her hair with a gentle hand. “Maybe we’re not a normal couple and there are some things we might miss, but I wouldn’t trade any of it to lose being with you.”

Though Peter’s words did not completely put Ashe’s mind at ease, she promised not to get ahead of herself. They still had all the time in the world.

Snow fell softly as Peter and Ashe walked through the city. Twinkling lights for the holiday season hung in the trees lining the sidewalk and storefronts advertising Christmas sales in bold red-and-green signs. Ashe had just turned in her last paper of the semester and was feeling light on her feet. She knew that she had a little over three weeks ahead of her with no classes, no homework, just Ashe and Peter together. There were quite a few people out on the street, some hurrying past with arms full of shopping bags and others who were, like Ashe Peter; just strolling along and window shopping.

A family came out of a diner on the corner; the children’s faces were bright as they talked about Santa Claus to their half-listening parents. Ashe remembered her own childhood Christmases, just mom and her, the two of them forgoing presents in favor of a big turkey dinner and hot cocoa in front of the fireplace. By the time Dad had left them, Ashe was already too old for Santa, but not yet ready to give up the holiday altogether. Her mom had done the best with what little money they had.

Peter interrupted her trip down memory lane with a tug on her coat sleeve. “Do you mind if we stop in here?”

It was an antique shop whose windows were grimed over with years, maybe decades, of dust. Ashe didn’t know why Peter wanted to go in but she followed him inside anyway. At the very least it was a welcome break from the frigid winter air outside.

There was an elderly woman at the counter making notes in a ledger book. She looked up and smiled when she noticed them in her shop.

“You’re early,” she said, closing the book.

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait,” he replied.

She nodded her head towards Ashe. “Is this the girl?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied. Ashe was completely lost, but as she neared the counter with Peter she noticed something striking about the woman’s smile. Her canines were much longer than the average human’s and they ended in sharp points. Ashe couldn’t help but stare.

“Your fangs are showing,” Peter said, apparently noticing Ashe’s surprise.

The woman tapped the eraser end of the pencil she was holding against a tooth. “These darned things won’t stay put. I think it’s the old age. They’re not the only things I can’t keep under control these days.” She winked at Ashe who smiled weakly back.

The woman turned from the counter and started riffling loudly through boxes stacked behind her. Ashe whispered to Peter, “She’s a vampire!”

Peter laughed. “What tipped you off?”

Ashe felt foolish for having stated something so obvious but she was still apprehensive. Just how many vampires were living amongst humans and going about their daily lives with the constant thirst for human blood?

Peter explained, “There are certain vampires that we call sentinels. They like to keep tabs on the comings and goings of our kind and function as a sort of network hub for people like us. Winnie here is one of them. She’s older than you could imagine and has connections all over the place. I was lucky to find her here, because not all cities have a sentinel.”

The old woman, Winnie, came back to the counter with a small black box cradled in her hands. “He thinks he found me all on his own,” she said. “But he underestimates the power I wield. I called him here with my magic.”

Peter laughed. “Say what you want, but I’m glad I found you. Is that it?” he said, pointing at the box.

“Yes,” Winnie replied handing the box over to Peter. He lifted it to eye-level and opened it a crack. His grin grew even wider. Ashe was curious to see what was inside, and wondered if it had something to with the magic Winnie claimed to possess.

Peter slipped the box in his pocket and turned to go.

“Aren’t you going to pay?” Ashe asked him. It was a shop, after all.

“I traded her earlier for an ugly old mirror that had been hanging in my house. I took off half the wall trying to pry it free, so I think she owes me much more than what’s in this box.”

“What happened to your house isn’t my fault,” the old woman grumbles from behind the counter.

“So, what’s in there anyway?” Ashe asked.

“You’ll just have to wait,” Peter said and left the shop. Ashe hurried to follow him. She had an inkling that the item was meant for her, especially after the woman’s question when they had entered the shop. She felt bad that she hadn’t gotten anything for Peter, but she still had time to make it up before Christmas. She wondered what kind of gift a vampire could possibly want. Perhaps a century of holidays had dulled him to the excitement of receiving presents; she certainly hoped not.

The snow was coming down more heavily now, obscuring the street and making Ashe wish she had worn something warmer. She clung tightly to Peter’s side as he led her along the sidewalk. He seemed to have somewhere in mind. Most people were ducking into shops to wait out the worst of the snow but Peter, impervious to the cold, marched on with Ashe by his side.

Finally he stopped in the city square, an open expanse of cobblestone ringed by the city’s oldest buildings. In the center was a towering Christmas tree, its lights barely visible through the drifts of snow coming down. The colored ornaments hanging from its branches were quickly gaining a thick coat of snow. Ashe felt like she would be buried too if they stayed out there much longer.

Peter pulled her toward the tree, with the insistence of a child, and she had no choice but to follow.

“I’ve always hated Christmas,” he said as they stood in front of the twinkling tree. “But this year it finally means something. It means I get to spend time with you.”

He pulled the box out of his pocket. The black was stark against the white snow already accumulating on its surface. He handed the box to Ashe. “What’s in here is something I honestly shouldn’t be giving to you. It’s an heirloom of my kind, impossibly valuable, and something that I can’t imagine anyone owning except you.”

Curiosity piqued beyond measure, Ashe pried open the lid of the box with frozen fingers. Inside was a pair of earrings set with blood-red stones. The mere sight of them took her breath away. Even in the poor light of the sudden snow storm, the gems twinkled as if a fire was lighting them from within.

“They belonged to a respected member of our clan who reigned as the matriarch for many decades in the Middle Ages. Any vampire who sees you in these will know you are spoken for, that you are under the protection of a very powerful family.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” she stammered, feeling like her words were inadequate.

Peter took the earrings from the box and helped Ashe replace her black studs with them. Their weight was comfortable on her ears and she felt like she could almost sense an aura coming off them, like a wave that warmed her from the inside out. She pulled Peter down for a kiss. They stood in the center of the square for a long time, content in each other’s arms as the snow fell all around them.

The wind blew the snow in little flurries around Peter’s feet as he walked up Ashe’s driveway. His sisters followed behind him, while his mother and father took up the rear. They were dressed in their best clothes, all except Penelope whom Peter had forced to put on something a little more modern. Agatha had helped him by taking her into the bathroom and pulling the pins out of her hair, letting her curls fall naturally about her shoulders. Peter was still immensely nervous about his family spending the holidays with Ashe’s, partly because vampires did not celebrate Christmas on principle. At least his oldest sister no longer looked like a Victorian corpse.

Peter’s hand shook as he pressed the doorbell, but not from the cold. He could hear Christmas music playing inside and imagined he could smell the roasting turkey. The rest of his family dawdled on the walk up, even less eager for the awkward first exchanges.

Ashe opened the door looking the same as ever, mostly in black and with a wry smile on her face. The only difference was the dark red earrings hanging from her earlobes.

“You’re early,” Ashe said, giving him a hug as he came across the threshold. He could see that there was a fire going in the fireplace in the next room and a sharp smell of cinnamon lingered in the air. Ashe’s cheeks were rosy and she had flour dusting her nose. He brushed it off for her.

“Cookies,” she said.

“I think my family’s stuck in the driveway,” Peter said looking apologetically at Ashe. She pushed past him to the front door, where Vanessa and Agatha were standing sheepishly, looking at their feet.

“You can come inside,” Ashe said holding the door open wide. “We haven’t put up the nativity this year, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Peter shot her a look and she shrugged. Ashe apparently didn't feel the same apprehension he did about this dinner and was already up to making jokes.

The two women took tentative steps through the door, muttering thanks and apologies as they went inside. Penelope followed with a dark look on her face.

“Wow, you look amazing,” Ashe said to her, though Peter noticed that Ashe instinctively touched the fading scars on her neck as Penelope passed. Penelope only nodded curtly in response.

By now Stevie and David had joined their daughter at the door. Stevie looked like even the smallest noise would send her running for the hills and David had on a look of resigned civility. Peter tried to recall just whose idea this dinner had been, but he was completely at a loss. No one in their right mind would have agreed to this.

Peter’s father and mother came to the door looking like two black shadows and just as silent. His father wore a full three-piece suit and his dark hair was oiled and parted to the side. His mother had on heels despite the snow, holding firmly onto her husband’s arm as she navigated the slippery sidewalk.

“Thank you for inviting us to your home,” Peter’s father said stiffly. He was a short man, but possessed a commanding presence.

“It’s the least we could do,” David replied and ushered them inside.

Ashe shivered as Peter closed the door behind them. He worried that all of the fireplace’s warmth had escaped out the open door. He put an arm around her.

Everyone made the proper introductions, which Peter facilitated as best he could. Peter’s mother produced a sleek gift bag from the inside of her coat and presented it to Stevie. “It’s wine,” she said. “I don’t know if you drink it or not, and I have no taste for it myself, but the young man at the shop recommended it.”

“Thank you,” Stevie replied. She handed the wine to her husband, who disappeared quickly into the kitchen. “Please make yourselves at home,” she said. “We’ve got appetizers on in the living room.”

It was all so unnatural, Peter thought as he took a seat in the living room. On the low table in the center was a small plate of crackers and cheese, and beside it a silver tray of glasses filled with a deep red liquid. “It isn’t,” Peter said to Ashe.

“Pig’s blood,” Ashe replied. “Mom wanted to serve you the human stuff, but Dad refused. He thought it was too much too soon. Mom’s really trying, but I think she overestimates her ability to tolerate your kind’s unique habits.”

Peter laughed. He decided he liked Stevie quite a bit. She would get along well with his own mother; Clara, who was holding a piece of cheese to her nose and sniffing it cautiously like it might bite her at any moment.

Penelope was already onto her second glass of refreshments, seemingly content to be left by herself in the corner, although she kept shooting furtive glances towards the others every once in a while. David came back into the room, handing his wife a glass of wine before taking a seat across from Peter’s father.

“So, your son’s been helping our daughter study for her classes,” Stevie said in the general direction of Peter’s parents, as if this were any normal get-together.

“I didn’t know,” Peter’s mother replied, putting down the cheese and folding her hands in her lap.

“He’s a very nice young man.” Stevie commented, taking a sip of her wine.

An awkward silence followed, during which Peter started to regret ever agreeing to come here with his family. He could tell that everyone was on edge and unsure of how to act.

David cleared his throat. “So the snow’s really coming down out there.”

“Yes,” Peter’s father replied. “Much more than what we are used to. But you already know that.”

“It was snowing the first night we met, remember?” Clara said to her husband.

“Sounds romantic,” Stevie commented and took another sip of wine. “How did you two meet?”

Peter’s father looked uncomfortable. He probably would have blushed had he been capable of it. “Oh, it was ages ago. It really wasn’t anything special.”

His wife was not so easily deterred. “Otto’s father was a lord and I was nothing but a farm girl, so we never had the luxury of meeting in the conventional way. Well, one night it started to snow really hard and my family built a large fire in the hearth. You have to understand that this was the Middle Ages and chimneys weren’t really in use yet.”

Peter glanced towards Ashe, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy listening to his mother’s story.

“Anyway, the smoke from the fire got to be too much for our little farmhouse and I propped my bedroom window open just a bit in order to breathe before I went to bed. When I next awoke it was the middle of the night and a strange young man was at my open window asking to be let inside. I thought he just wanted to warm up by the hearth, but when I let him inside he—”

Otto coughed loudly and Clara seemed to realize she had said too much.

“In any case, we’ve been together ever since,” Clara finished abruptly.

“It’s still romantic,” Stevie said, popping a cube of cheese into her mouth. “My husband here couldn’t even ask me on a date. And then he ran away for ten years.”

It was David’s turn now to cough loudly, drowning out the rest of his wife’s complaints.

Peter looked over at Ashe and could see that she was smiling. “What’s so funny?” he hissed.

“I think everyone will get along just fine,” she whispered in reply.

Peter still wasn’t so sure.

Dinner ended without incident, though Ashe and her mother were the only two who had eaten anything. The others had insisted on sitting at the table while the two of them made their way through the mountains of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans that Ashe’s mother had ambitiously prepared. Even though Stevie had made the effort to have alternative refreshments on hand for their guests, she must have forgotten that they weren’t able to consume anything else. Ashe and her mom barely put a dent in the feast and Ashe thought with dread towards the weeks of leftovers ahead of her.

As everyone pitched in to help clear the table, Ashe noticed Penelope wander alone into the living room. Penelope had been silent all night and while that wasn’t especially out of character for Peter’s eldest sister, Ashe wanted to make sure things were okay between them. Ashe harbored no hard feelings. She knew that Penelope had been acting on pure instinct when she had bitten Ashe, having been manipulated by Landon into losing control. Now was the perfect chance to clear the air and maybe start on the long path towards friendship, or at the very least mutual understanding. Ashe put down the plates she was holding and followed Penelope into the living room.

The fireplace was burning low with no one to tend to it. Penelope stood by the mantelpiece gazing down into the embers. She looked much better with her hair down, Ashe thought, much softer and less like the monster that sometimes still haunted Ashe’s dreams. The scars on her neck twinged, but she forced herself to ignore the pain.

“I’m really glad everyone came tonight,” Ashe said standing beside her.

Penelope looked up, startled.

“Thank you for giving my mom and I a chance.”

Penelope’s expression calmed but she didn’t reply. Instead she moved towards the door as if to leave.

Ashe didn’t want to lose her chance to talk to Penelope alone, so quickly said, “I know it’s hard, after everything that’s happened, but I want us to forget all of that. I think if we give each other a chance, things won’t be so bad.”

Penelope stopped and turned. Her eyes almost glowed in the flickering firelight. Ashe felt a pang of fear, but tried to tell herself it was okay.

“But I can’t forget,” Penelope said. She slowly approached Ashe again. Ashe could see her lips curling up at the edges. “Now that I have the taste of your blood, aren’t you worried I’ll bite you again?”

“No,” Ashe forced herself to reply. Flashes of that night came flooding back into Ashe’s mind: the sharp stab of teeth, the dribble of warm blood down her neck, and the darkness threatening to consume her. She hoped Penelope couldn’t see her shaking.

“You’re a nuisance,” Penelope said. “And you don’t belong here with us. The sooner you realize that the better.”

The words stung Ashe. She already felt like an outsider in Peter’s world, but hearing it come from someone else gave strength to her fears. What if Peter also came to feel the same way, that she was a nuisance and didn't belong with his family after all?

“You don’t have to like me,” Ashe said trying to keep her voice strong. “But I’m not going anywhere. Peter loves me, and if I go then he goes too.”

Penelope’s expression went dark in a flash. She reached up and grabbed one of Ashe’s earrings. She pulled it just enough for the metal post to dig into Ashe’s flesh and cause her pain. “You don’t deserve these, you know,” Penelope hissed. “You’re not one of us, and you never will be.”

She pulled a little harder and Ashe thought she could feel blood welling up under Penelope’s fingers.

“Let go,” Ashe cried and Penelope started to grin in earnest.

At that moment Vanessa came into the room, saying loudly, “Not interrupting anything, am I?”

Ashe breathed a sigh of relief as Penelope let go of her earlobe. The woman’s fingers were stained with small droplets of Ashe’s blood. “Not at all, dear sister,” Penelope replied with malice dripping from her voice. She brought her fingers up to her lips and licked them clean. “I was just leaving.”

She turned on her heels and left the room.

Ashe put a hand up to her burning earlobe. It came away bloody. She would have to tell Peter about what his sister had done to her.

“You okay?” Vanessa asked.

Ashe nodded. If Vanessa hadn’t come when she did, Ashe might not have been feeling okay.

“You’re bleeding,” Vanessa said.

All Ashe wanted to do was find Peter and tell him what had happened. She wanted to be back in the kitchen with everyone else, where it was bright and loud and full of life. But Vanessa stopped her before she could leave.

“I’ll talk to Penelope,” she said in a low voice. “She won’t pull something like that again.”

Ashe didn’t care what Vanessa did. She just wanted to talk to Peter, he would keep her safe. “It’s okay, really. She was just mad about the earrings. I’ll get Peter to handle it.” Ashe replied.

“You can’t,” Vanessa said sternly.

“His sister threatened me. He needs to know.”

Vanessa shook her head. “Peter loves you too much. He shouldn’t have to be forced to choose between his sister and you. It would shatter Penelope to lose him; just the threat of telling him will be enough to keep her in line. He doesn’t need to know.

“So you won’t tell him, right?” Vanessa asked.

Though she hated being told what to do, Ashe felt like she had no choice. “Fine, whatever pleases you; I won’t tell,” she replied. She felt sick in her stomach and angry at Vanessa for forcing her hand.

Ashe pushed past Vanessa and rejoined the others in the kitchen. Peter was washing dishes and she picked up a towel to dry them. He smiled at her and she smiled back, though her heart wasn’t in it. She was troubled by what Vanessa had said. Ashe herself wasn’t completely sure who Peter would choose if it came down to it. She knew Peter loved her, but was it enough to compete with loyalty to his family? Peter had only known Ashe for a few months now, but his sister had been with him for a century at least. Besides, Ashe would eventually die of old age anyway. She was replaceable; family was not, as Ashe knew all too well.

For now she would have to trust that Vanessa was watching out for her. This didn’t sit well with her either. Vanessa had been there when Landon was holding her captive. Ashe had seen the hunger in her eyes and her pleasure at seeing Ashe’s fear. Was it possible for all of that to be so easily forgotten? Ashe wondered how much of Vanessa’s reaction had been the hunger and how much had been her personality.

“Hey, are you still with us?” Peter said waving a wet dish in front of her face.

She snatched it out of his hand. “Yeah, I’m sorry but turkey always makes me sleepy,” Ashe replied.

“That’s all?” Peter asked. He looked concerned.

She could have told him about Penelope, but she didn’t. “Yeah, everything’s just fine.”

CHAPTER 3

The classroom was buzzing with the energy of students just back from winter break. Ashe was excited too for her last semester of classes, because it meant she was only a few months away from graduation and becoming fully independent. After school was finished she could go anywhere with Peter. They could travel the whole country if they wanted, and maybe even the world. She would no longer be tied down by her studies.

Ashe glanced at the syllabus, idly massaging her sore earlobe. She had taken out the earrings Peter had given her as they were far too formal to wear to class and likely too expensive as well. Besides, she wanted to give her ear some time to heal after the damage Penelope had done. A semester ago she wouldn’t have believed that she would be taking another of Professor Sharp’s folklore classes, but here she was in the same lecture hall where her life had changed in so many ways. She was looking forward to seeing the professor again and catching up on how he had spent his winter vacation. Unfortunately, he was running late this morning and the students were getting restless. A crumpled-up syllabus flew past Ashe’s head towards the wastepaper basket, but missed and landed atop the podium. “Sorry,” a student in a letterman jacket shouted as he jogged down the row of seats to retrieve it.

Ashe glanced at the clock. It wasn’t like Professor Sharp to run this late. His mannerisms were slow, but he was always on time. As she pondered what could have been keeping him, a woman from the administrative office came in and stood at the podium. She cleared her throat and everyone quieted.

“I apologize for the late notice, but class is cancelled today. Professor Sharp has had some personal matters to attend to and will not be back on campus until further notice. We have called in a substitute for him from a nearby college, but he won’t be getting here until this evening. Classes will resume as usual on Wednesday. If you have any questions you can contact the dean’s office.”

The woman left the podium and the students started exiting the lecture hall, talk already buzzing of what could have happened to the professor. Ashe just sat in her chair with a worried frown crinkling her brow, her eyes looking sightlessly down at her empty notebook page. She hoped Professor Sharp was okay. The woman had said personal matters, not illness or an accident; something must have happened to a family member. Ashe slowly gathered her things and dropped them into her backpack. There was no one else in the lecture hall by the time she left. The room was cold, empty, and Ashe wasn’t looking forward to returning on Wednesday.

She left the building and the snowy white fog quickly consumed her. It was hard to see where she was going, though the distant light of the student center kept her on track. The wind bit through her heavy jacket as if she hadn’t been wearing it at all. It looked like a snow storm had blown in and it would only get worse.

The news worried Peter. He had come across it by chance in the student center in a local newspaper left on a chair he was about to sit on. He picked up the newspaper and skimmed the headlines. On the bottom of the second page was a small article about a missing persons case outside the city. The county was the same as the one Landon’s hideout was in; Peter knew in a second that it wasn’t a coincidence. He got comfortable in his chair and took a closer look at the article.

It had been a young couple out on a drive. Their car had been found crashed in the snow by the side of the road, but there was no sign of the bodies. Police were stumped, though there was a theory that the couple had faked the car crash and ran in order to escape a mountain of unpaid bills. Peter wasn’t so sure. His bet was that they were either dead, or soon would be once Landon and his clan got their fill.

Peter had been doing some investigative work on his own lately with the help of another vampire whom Winnie had gotten him in contact with. The man was somewhat of a pro at rooting out the most dangerous of their kind and handling them with discretion. His name was Mark and he tended to drift to wherever his specialized skill set was needed. Peter hoped that, together, they would be able to bring down Landon’s clan.

He snapped a picture of the article and sent it to Mark. Then he carefully tore out the newspaper article and put it in his wallet alongside another one he had found earlier that week about a senile old man who had gone missing while out for a walk. He folded the paper inside just as Ashe came walking up to him.

“Anything interesting?” she asked nodding at the newspaper on the table as she sat down.

“Not really,” Peter replied as he put his wallet away. “How was class?”

Ashe sighed. Peter could tell something was wrong. “Professor Sharp’s out sick or something so class was cancelled. No one knows when he’ll be back.”

Peter wondered if he should add Professor Sharp to his list.

“We’ll get a sub on Wednesday.”

“That’s all?”

Ashe had been acting a little withdrawn lately. Peter wondered if she was still worrying about Landon. All Peter wanted to do was make her feel safe. He would have done anything.

Peter’s phone buzzed and he picked it up. It was a message from Mark telling Peter to call. He ignored it, not wanting Ashe to know that he was going after Landon and worry.

“Who is it?” Ashe asked.

“Vanessa,” Peter lied. He felt bad lying to her but it was for her own good.

“Are you ready to go?”

Peter was about to ask her where before remembering that he was supposed to go to her house for dinner that night. Though Ashe’s mother was relatively easy to get along with, Peter was definitely looking forward to Ashe moving out and getting her own place, maybe a place for the two of them. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, gathering up the newspaper with the missing article.

Ashe stood while tucking her hair behind her ear. Peter noticed her earlobe was red. “Is your ear okay?” he asked. He wondered if the earrings he had given her had caused an allergic reaction. They were centuries old, after all, and who knew what kind of metal they were made of.

“My earring caught on my sweater this morning so I thought I’d give them a rest,” she replied.

Of course, Peter thought. He wondered if all this worrying after Ashe was healthy for him. Every scrape, frown, or slightly odd comment of hers made him panic that something was wrong. But if something was truly wrong, she would tell him. He would have to learn to trust her more.

Before they left the student center Peter ducked into the bathroom. He went into a stall and called Mark.

“What took you so long?” Mark asked.

“It’s only been a few minutes since you sent your message,” Peter replied. “I was with someone.”

Mark grumbled. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. “I did some research into the Alilovic family tree, among other things.”

“And?”

“You seem to have gotten yourself into a feud with one of the oldest clans in Europe.”

Peter didn’t believe it for a second. He knew the names of all the great clans and Alilovic wasn’t one of them. “If you’re trying to get out of helping me, you’re going to have to try harder than that,” Peter said.

“No, no. It would be an honor to end their bloodline. After all, their ancestor is one of the first of our kind to gain any sort of notoriety for killing humans. Have you ever heard of Jure Grando?”

“In legend, yeah. He terrorized a town in Croatia in the seventeenth century. The townspeople finally ended it by chopping off his head.” Peter hoped Mark would get to the point soon. He couldn’t keep Ashe waiting outside forever.

“Not just legend, but verifiable fact. Grando had a son who took the name Alilovic and fled the country. He too had the curse, his father’s thirst for blood. He lay waste to towns in Italy and France before settling in Germany to hide from vampires like me who would have put an end to his butchering. His clan then went on to take part in the human atrocities of World War II and then, as far as I know, continued to operate in the dark places where the sentinels can’t find them. That’s why you’ve never heard of them before. They’re shadows among shadows.”

Peter had no idea what he was getting himself into. He wondered if Landon’s family still maintained contact with their relatives in Europe.

“How do you suggest we proceed?” Peter asked.

Mark replied. “We have to cut off the arm before it can tell the brain what’s happening, if you know what I mean. We take out Landon’s branch of the clan in one clean sweep and make ourselves scarce before their friends in Europe can find out.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, though nothing about it felt okay. He was committing himself to a war.

“You don’t have to do this,” Mark said, as if he could sense Peter’s hesitation. “There are plenty of us who are trained to handle this sort of thing.”

Peter thought about Ashe and his promise to keep her safe. “No, I’ll help you. Tell me what you need me to do.”

“Right now I need all the information I can get. Keep sending me articles and anything else you can dig up.”

Peter promised to do so and hung up. His mind felt heavy with everything Mark had told him. Apparently Landon’s evil could be traced all the way back to his ancestors. Peter was glad that his own line had not cursed him to such a fate, but it was still no excuse for Landon’s behavior. Peter should have known from that first day when Landon had tried to crush him with the construction crane that the man was nothing but evil.

Peter left the stall still thinking about Landon and how close he had been to losing Ashe once already. If he had known at the time what Landon was, he never would have agreed to let Ashe finish her semester here. He would have insisted they pack their bags and leave as soon as they had gotten home. But telling Ashe she couldn’t graduate now would crush her. Peter didn’t have it in him to do that to her. Now the only way forward was to fight.

The lecture hall was only half-full; the students were clearly taking the professor’s absence as an excuse to skip class themselves. Ashe sat near the back, listening as the substitute, Professor Wheatley, talked about witch hunts dating all the way back to ancient Rome. He was a stern man with thick, dark eyebrows that cast his whole long face in their shadow. He stood in the light of the projector with his hands in his pockets, his back slightly hunched though he couldn't have been more than sixty.

“Witch hunts actually declined in number in ancient Rome with the advent of Christianity and its acceptance as the official state religion,” he droned. “For many centuries, the Church had no hand in persecuting witches, but once they did, things became quite nasty.”

He changed the slide to show a sixteenth-century depiction of a witch tied to a rack in the town square.

“This is the kind of scene that most of you are probably used to seeing. If you notice, the building in the back there is a church and the priest is standing here off to the side. Whereas before the Church had claimed that even the belief in the existence of witchcraft was blasphemy, here they are now doing the very thing they condemned mere decades previous. If we look at this slide...”

The slide changed again and the professor’s meandering sentences quickly lost Ashe’s attention. She picked up her pen and started drumming it against her notebook, thinking about where she would go for lunch. Peter wouldn’t be free until the evening, so she would have to wait until then to see him. As her mind continued to drift, she hit her notebook a little too hard and the cap of her pen went flying with a clatter into the aisle. She got up to retrieve it.

Professor Wheatley turned towards the auditorium. “Miss Linfield, if you could please pay a little more attention to my lecture.”

Ashe’s face felt hot but the lecture hall was thankfully too dark for it to show. She went back to her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest, hoping the professor could sense the anger rolling off her in waves. She couldn’t wait for Professor Sharp to come back.

It had been over a week and there was still no word from the professor. Ashe had tried emailing him, but no replies had come back yet. She still had some books she had borrowed over the break that she needed to return to him. She figured she could stop by his office after class and slide them into the mail slot by his door. If she didn’t return the books today, she would likely forget and they would be lost like so many others. Only last week she had found a weathered copy of Sense and Sensibility under her bed that she had lost some time back in high school.

“...before largely dying out in the ninetieth century. This doesn’t mean that witch hunts are entirely nonexistent today, and these modern witch hunts will be the subject of Friday’s lecture, along with the belief systems that keep such practices alive.”

The projector clicked off and the lights came on. Ashe rubbed her eyes and closed her notebook.

“Now, don’t get up just yet,” the professor said to the few students who had already stood up from their seats. He took a stack of papers from the podium. “We still have ten minutes left; just enough time for a pop quiz. Let’s see how many of you were sleeping and how many of you actually managed to learn something today.”

Ashe flipped her notebook open but today’s page was blank, as they had been all week. Instead of listening to the professor’s dry lectures she had been worrying about Professor Sharp and Penelope and what she was going to do after graduation. All she could remember was that today’s lecture had been on witch hunts and something about Romans and dying on racks.

She took a quiz and handed the stack to the row behind her. Already she could tell the questions were impossible. She wondered if Professor Wheatley had actually said any of these things in his lecture or if he was playing a cruel game with the class, who clearly wanted their regular professor back. She glanced around at the other students who looked about as lost as she was.

When time was up, all she had written was her name at the top. The rest of the answers were blank. As Professor Wheatley came by to pick up the quizzes from each row he looked down at hers and clicked his tongue. “I thought so,” he said and continued down the aisle.

Ashe could faintly hear the cathedral bells ringing outside for noon and grabbed her bag before the professor could say anything more. She left the auditorium quickly and followed the familiar path through the hallway to Professor Sharp’s office to return his books. She hated Professor Wheatley and was dreading her first paper for the class. She already anticipated the terrible grade she would receive, along with the scathing remarks written in red in the margins. It was just like last semester, only the professor had this time written her off as a lost cause instead of a student whose attention was worth fighting for.

The light was on in Professor Sharp’s office when she got there. Ashe shifted the books to one hand and knocked on the door. She tried not to get her hopes up as she waited for a response.

“I don’t have office hours now,” Professor Sharp said through the door.

Ashe allowed herself a small smile. “It’s me, Ashe,” she replied.

There was a creak of a chair and the door opened. Professor Sharp looked tired and his pupils were badly dilated. They were having trouble adjusting to the brighter hallway light. He looked like he had aged ten years over the break.

“I have some of your books,” she said uncertainly. “But if now’s not a good time I can come back later.”

“No, it’s good to see you. Come on in,” he said gesturing her inside his office.

Ashe took a seat in her usual armchair. She noticed that the professor’s desk was littered with books and papers, some of which looked like they had come from a museum and might crumple into dust at any minute.

“How’s the new professor?” Professor Sharp asked her, starting to stack the books into neat piles, which he then moved to the floor behind the desk. Ashe could see that many of the books had to do with alchemy and folk remedies, and wondered if the professor was planning on doing a lecture on the subject, though it wasn’t in the syllabus. She also wondered how long it had been since he had slept.

“Professor Wheatley is absolutely terrible,” Ashe replied. “Are you coming back to teach soon?”

Professor Sharp’s eyes lit up for a moment before the weak flame doused itself again. “No, I don’t know; I’m only here because my books are here. I don’t like being at home all alone. Professor Wheatley is a good colleague of mine. He takes a little warming up to, but you’ll learn a lot from him.”

Ashe wasn’t so sure. It was hard to believe there was a professor out there that made Professor Sharp look like a lamb.

“Is everything... okay?” Ashe asked. She didn’t feel comfortable asking him outright, but he looked too pitiful to pretend everything was normal. He was like the shell of his old self and Ashe couldn’t stand it. She missed the sharp, uncompromising teacher she had grown used to.

Professor Sharp sighed, taking his glasses off and setting them on the desk. Without the frames, Ashe could see the dark, puffy circles under the man’s eyes. “My wife passed away,” he said.

Ashe felt her heart breaking for the professor. She couldn’t imagine losing the person she loved like that, losing Peter. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

The professor shook his head. “I already knew what was going to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier when it did. My wife had been sick and the doctor told us she didn’t have much time left. I promised her I would take her out to the countryside and spend her last days with her, just the two of us watching the snow falling and enjoying our time together. So that’s what we did. It was nice.”

He paused, sniffling a little.

“She always loved nature. The only reason she moved to the city was because of my work. Maybe if we’d stayed out of the city she wouldn’t have gotten sick. I know that cancer runs in her family, but maybe things would have been different.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ashe said. She didn’t know what to do or how to comfort him. To a friend she would have offered a shoulder to cry on. To a professor, she had no idea. She sat quietly as Professor Sharp wiped the tears from his eyes.

“You can come back when you’re ready. Professor Wheatley’s not so bad, really,” Ashe said, not wanting him to feel guilty for being absent.

Professor Sharp smiled weakly at her. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. I only needed some time to adjust to things. As competent as Professor Wheatley is, I have a hunch my students still need me.”

“We do,” Ashe said.

She put her borrowed books on his desk and excused herself as the professor went back to his reading. It was terrible that someone could lose his wife like that. Ashe’s own parents were roughly the same age as the professor and though she didn’t have to worry about her father passing away, she knew her mother hadn’t taken the best care of herself these past ten years. Ashe promised to take better care of herself too, for Peter’s sake as much as her own.

Today there was no snow, but the sky was still overcast. Ashe had no destination in mind so she let her feet wander where they would. She hadn’t known that Professor Sharp’s wife was sick and had never bothered to think about the professor’s personal life. It was so easy to define someone by their set role in her life—teacher, mother, boyfriend. It was much harder to see someone for who they were as a whole. As Ashe walked away from the professor’s office, she thought about Peter and all of the aspects of him that she chose to close her eyes to. She knew nothing of his past or his life beyond how he related to her. Ashe felt she was ready to start asking questions, to start opening these doors, even if she didn’t like the answers that lay behind them.

But as the days dragged on, Ashe again lost her nerve. She didn’t feel it was fair to ask him to reveal so much about himself when she was hiding things herself. Ashe hadn’t seen Penelope or the others since Christmas, as she was too busy getting back in the swing of classes and her job at the bookstore. Life seemed to settle into something approaching normal, all except for Professor Sharp.

When the professor finally came back to class, he was nothing like before. The changes were evident to anyone, not just those like Ashe who were actively looking for them. On his first day back at school, he stood at the head of the classroom clutching the podium tightly with both hands as if unable to stay upright on his own. He looked like he had lost a considerable amount of weight and his cheeks were sunken in.

The curtains were drawn tightly and the projector was going. The professor kept his eyes trained on the lecture notes in front of him, not pausing to look at the students or the slides illuminated behind him. His voice came out in a rasp; Ashe wondered if someone could die of a broken heart.

The next class was the same and the one after that. The professor’s mind was clearly elsewhere; he was like a zombie, just reading off the notes he had already prepared. He didn’t bother to interact with the students and his office hours were growing more scarce. Eventually he started missing classes again and Ashe began to worry. She never knew on a given day whether it would be Professor Sharp at the podium or Professor Wheatley. Ashe’s first paper came back with notes written in an unfamiliar hand and a barely passing grade written in large print on the last page. Whereas Professor Sharp had always criticized her for not taking the subject seriously enough, Professor Wheatley seemed to think she was taking it too seriously. “Stop believing everything you read. They’re just stories,” he had written on her paper. If only he knew the truth, Ashe thought.

One day, when Professor Sharp was on campus and looking a bit better than usual, Ashe ran into him outside the bookstore. He appeared to be talking to someone on the phone but hung up when he noticed her.

“I noticed the grade on your last paper,” he said opening the door for her. “I have to say I’m disappointed.”

Ashe slung her bag behind the counter and grabbed her name tag from the shelf. She wanted to argue with him, telling him that the only reason for her poor grade was the new professor’s apparent grudge against her. But she knew that would only make Professor Sharp feel guilty about not being able to keep up with his work so she bit her tongue. “I’m still getting the hang of his grading style,” was all she said.

“Are you sure it doesn’t have anything to do with you and your tutor starting to date?” he said.

Ashe almost choked. How could the professor know? She tried to defend herself, “I was doing well. You even said so yourself. Plus it’s none of your business.”

Ashe’s supervisor came by with a scowl on her face. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t pay you for talking,” she said, but when the supervisor noticed Professor Sharp standing at the counter, her scowl faded. The professor gave her a friendly hello. It was the first time Ashe had ever seen the miserable old woman smile. It looked like the wrinkles on her face would crack open from the effort. Ashe shuddered and picked up a stack of books to sort.

“Sorry, professor,” the old woman said.

Professor Sharp shrugged it off. “I should be getting back to work myself.”

“Did you need to find a book?” Ashe asked, wondering if the professor had been on his way in or out of the shop when he had run into her.

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot,” the professor said. He dug into a side pocket of his leather briefcase and pulled out a scrap of paper.

Ashe set down the stack of books she was holding and entered the title into the computer, but no entries popped up. “Sorry, it looks like we don’t have it. I can check the nearby bookstores to see if one of them has it in stock.”

“No, it’s okay,” the professor said. “I’ll check the library again.”

Ashe handed the paper back to the professor and in doing so sent the precariously-balanced stack of books tumbling towards the floor. In the blink of an eye the professor lunged and managed to save the books from falling, catching them awkwardly between his hands and the edge of the counter.

“Thanks,” she said as Professor Sharp put the books back on the counter. He looked embarrassed though Ashe had been the one to knock them over.

“I have to go,” he said. “But I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

Ashe watched him leave. She was glad to see he was getting some of his strength back. The Professor Sharp she had met weeks ago in his office wouldn’t have been able to save even a single book from falling, let alone a whole stack. Maybe he would be able to stay and teach classes for the rest of the semester. She wondered if Peter had been in to see him recently, she doubted it. Peter had been scarce since they had returned to campus. He seemed preoccupied with his own classes, and on top of that, had accepted a job in the college archives. Ashe knew his family didn't need the money. Keeping busy must have been Peter’s way of coping with everything that had happened last semester, but Ashe needed him by her side.

“How many came with you to the city?”

“Six, including me; no, seven. I forgot David, our supplier.”

Winnie had a ledger out and was counting names. She scribbled David’s name in an empty space under Landon’s family and added the date they had moved next to it.

“That’s everyone?” she asked Peter with a frown.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Winnie scratched her nose with the end of her pencil. “We’re still short one. Would’ve come in around Christmas.”

As a sentinel, Winnie had a preternatural sense for vampires. She was like a radar pinging their approximate locations within a certain radius.  Apparently, there was a new vampire in town and she was trying to get a fix on it.

“You forgot Mark,” Peter said.

“No, counted him. Plus he’s not in town. He comes and goes as he pleases. This signal’s far too strong and consistent to be coming from someone outside the city.”

Peter wracked his brain, but couldn’t come up with anything. “Then who could it be?” he asked.

“That’s what I need you to find out.”

“Does this happen often?” Peter said. “Don’t you have a system for things like this, a protocol? I doubt Landon was out here doing your legwork for you before I came along.”

Winnie shook her grayed head and the string of beads holding her glasses around her neck clacked softly. “It rarely happens like this, not so suddenly. They usually seek me out after a while, like you did. But with this one there’s a… pulling away. It’s like he’s trying to run away while staying planted in the same spot. I can’t explain it any better than that.”

“He?” Peter asked. “You know it’s a man?”

“Or a woman,” Winnie replied.

Peter remembered Ashe’s bite and irrational dread started to well up inside his chest. She couldn’t be. He had checked her after that night and plenty of times since then. She was eating regular food and had none of the other signs. Whenever he held her she was warm and full of life. He could remember the beat of her heart in her chest and the soft sigh of her breath against his cheek the last time they were together. She wasn’t one of them.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not her,” Winnie said with a wry smile. “You need to stop worrying so much. She’s a strong girl. She wouldn’t have been turned so easily.”

Peter really wanted to help Winnie find the new vampire in town, but he was far too busy. He didn’t have time for this, not until Landon’s family was reduced to a heap of dust. Even then, he would have to go on the run and the city’s problems would no longer be his own. He was already struggling to find time for Ashe as it was. “I can’t help you,” he replied. “I have to take care of Landon’s clan first.”

Winnie snapped the ledger book shut. “I don’t like not knowing who’s in my city; it gives me a wooly feeling in my bones. Something’s wrong. I’d go out and investigate myself, but this body of mine isn’t what it used to be. The eons have been kind, but I’m on my way out. Another few hundred years and—” she made a short, sharp whistling noise to indicate her meaning.

“Stop being so dramatic, Winnie. I promise I’ll get to it when I can. It’s not like the vampire’s out killing people on the street. But if you’re worried, I’ll ask one of my sisters to look into it for now.” Winnie was acting like Peter’s father, relegating pointless tasks to him just because he was still able to move relatively freely during daylight hours. Any of the others could have done it easily. After all, David often braved cloudy days with the help of his coat and hat. Peter didn't expect the town to be getting any real sun until spring.

“I tell you, something bad is brewing,” Winnie said in a dark voice.

Peter ignored her and left the shop, his mind on far more important problems.

CHAPTER 4

Ashe was curled up next to Peter on a sofa in the student center. Thick flurries of snow danced outside the window and the sky was heavy with grey clouds. Ashe thought she could feel a charge in the air, like before a thunderstorm. The weather reports had been warning of a blizzard and it looked like it was finally on its way.

Peter’s phone went off at the same time as Ashe’s, making her jump. Both their screens lit up with the same alert. The message from administration was brief, almost cryptic. Ashe read it aloud while Peter continued making notes in the margins of the book he was reading.

“We would like to inform students about a severe weather warning for the state, beginning at 3:00pm this afternoon. As of now, cancellation of afternoon classes are still at the discretion of the professors, but it is highly advised that students refrain from attending classes if they live off campus. We will update the student body as more information comes in from the national weather service.”

Peter closed his book. “Don’t you have Sharp’s class this afternoon?” he asked.

Professor Sharp’s class or Professor Wheatley’s class; Ashe wasn’t sure. She hoped it was the former. “Yeah,” she replied. “But it ends at 3:00 so I’ll be fine.”

Peter’s brows furrowed in that worried way Ashe had seen all too often lately. “I think you should take the afternoon off. Even if the blizzard hasn’t blown in by then, the snow’s already coming down pretty heavily. We can go now, since I don’t have any more classes.”

Ashe shook her head. “I don’t know if Professor Wheatley will be teaching, but if he is I can’t afford to be absent. He already hates me enough as it is and there’s no doubt he’ll notice I’m gone. It would be the perfect opportunity for him to give a pop quiz.”

“What will you do if you get snowed in here?” Peter asked.

Ashe looked out the window. The snow didn’t seem to be getting any worse and there wasn’t even the hint of wind to indicate the coming storm. She figured she had at least a few hours before the roads became too dangerous to get home on. “I won’t,” she reassured him.

“I’ll wait for you right here,” Peter said, looking like he wanted to protest her decision, but having enough respect for her not to.

Ashe leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I promise I’ll come back here right after class,” she replied.

Peter gave her another look of worry, but didn’t say anything further. Ashe settled back into the crook of his arm and he took up his book once again. The inconsistency of having a class taught by two professors was making Ashe uncomfortable about her grade. She understood that Peter was worried about the weather, but she needed to do everything she could to ensure that she would be able to graduate in the spring. If the snow really did become a problem, the administration would cancel classes, but until then Ashe would stay on campus. She would not be scared off by a little snow.

Attendance was the worst it had been since the start of the semester. Ashe was among a small handful of students who hadn’t taken the weather warning as an excuse to skip classes. The snow was coming down in sheets now and beyond the auditorium windows Ashe could only see white. Professor Wheatley was droning on about folk beliefs in the early American colonies, every once in a while turning laboriously to the chalkboard behind him to write out a term that Ashe knew wouldn’t be on any test. It was almost as if the professor was purposely trying to mislead the students, just so he could berate them when they failed to meet his expectations. Ashe had to remind herself that this was still Professor Sharp’s class and ultimately it would be his decision who passed and who failed.

The lights flickered and a murmur passed among the students through the lecture hall. A few stopped taking notes and looked around, as if wondering whether or not to take the momentary loss of power as a sign that class was cancelled. Professor Wheatley only paused for a moment to look up at the lights, and when they didn’t flicker again, he resumed his lecture as if nothing had happened. Ashe wondered if the power had faltered at the student center as well and if Peter was now sitting there worried about Ashe being able to get back home in time. She looked at the clock. There were only fifteen minutes of class left. As long as she hurried, she would be just fine.

Class ended with no further incident and it seemed that even Professor Wheatley was eager to get out of the building as he did not bother to give them so much as a reading assignment for the next class. Maybe it was the lack of attendance that had him apathetic or the growing ridge of snow along the window sills outside, but he swiftly packed up his things as the auditorium emptied. Ashe hurried too, she was glad to have escaped another dreaded pop quiz.

As Ashe was getting up from her seat, Professor Sharp poked his head inside the open door. He looked haggard and anxious about something. The dark circles had returned with a vengeance and there was an odd mania to his eyes that indicated to Ashe he hadn’t been sleeping again. He gave a curt greeting to Professor Wheatley.

To Ashe, he said, “Miss Linfield, can I see you in my office for a minute?”

Ashe glanced out the windows then back at the professor. She knew she should be getting home, but the look in the professor’s eyes made her wonder if something was wrong. “Yeah,” she replied. “As long as it is quick; I need to get home before the storm hits.”

“I promise it will only be a few minutes,” Professor Sharp hurriedly reassured her.

“I think the storm is already here,” Professor Wheatley said in a grave voice. He stepped almost menacingly toward Professor Sharp, as if to shoo him out of the classroom. Ashe wondered if Professor Wheatley harbored resentment against the man he was forced to substitute for. After all, it was pretty clear which of the two the students favored. “Whatever you need can wait, professor. This young lady should be heading home.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ashe said skirting past Professor Wheatley and joining Professor Sharp at the door. “I’ll hurry home right afterwards.”

She spared a look back at Professor Wheatley as she followed the other down the hall. His mouth and brow were set into hard lines that made Ashe think of the depictions of witch hunts he had shown in his lectures. He was one of the townspeople casting the finger of suspicion towards his neighbor, condemning them to burn at the stake. It was an odd image, but one Ashe couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. Even stranger, Ashe was almost certain that the look had been meant not for her, but for Professor Sharp.

The inside of Professor Sharp’s office was even messier than before. Papers and books were now strewn across the floor as well as the desk and Ashe had to be careful where she stepped on her way to her seat. Professor Sharp ignored the mess around himself, stepping on the open spines of books as if they hadn’t been there at all.

“Is this about my grades?” Ashe said, trying to ignore the oddness of the professor’s behavior.

Professor Sharp sat at his desk wringing his hands. His eyes kept darting from book to book, but didn’t seem to be really seeing them. “No, I mean yes. I wanted to talk about your performance in my class this semester. Professor Wheatley is worried as well, and I’m thinking that maybe—”

The lights flickered again, this time going out fully for a pregnant second before coming back on with the hum of reawakening electronics.

“I almost forgot; do you want some tea?” the professor asked suddenly.

Ashe had promised Peter she would meet him right after class. It was already ten past three. He would be starting to worry.

“No thank you,” she replied. “I really do have to go soon. What did you want to say about my grades?”

“Oh it’s no bother. I’ve already prepared the pot. Let me go get it from the lounge.”

Ashe tried to protest, but Professor Sharp was already out the door with a speed that Ashe hadn’t thought he was capable of, owing to his haggard appearance.

As she waited for him to return, Ashe set to work clearing a path of empty carpet from the door to the desk. She didn’t want the professor tripping over his books and spilling hot tea all over the place. She made herself busy stacking up books and copied pages of library documents in neat piles on the empty spaces on his bookshelves. One that caught her eye was a scanned page about folk remedies similar to the ones she had seen in his office before. On it, written in the professor’s familiar scrawl, were the words: A cure? The highlighted section detailed a recipe for ridding the body of the vampire’s curse. Ashe stood up slowly, carefully pushing the papers onto the desk as if scared they would explode in her hands.

The door opened and the professor returned, carrying an old-fashioned silver tea tray. He set it on the desk and poured a cup of steaming tea for each of them. Ashe watched his movements carefully: the odd grace of his fingers as he stirred in the sugar and the effort it took him to blow on the surface of the tea to cool it. He gestured towards the remaining teacup, offering it to Ashe.

“Uh, professor?” she said taking the cup timidly as if it might bite her. “I think I should be going now. The snow’s getting pretty bad outside.”

The professor slowly lowered his cup without taking a sip. “It’s been hard, you know, without her. I find I don’t have anyone to talk to these days. Even mundane things like sharing a cup of tea are easy to take for granted until they’re gone.”

Ashe felt a pang of sympathy at the mention of Professor Sharp’s late wife. Things had been hard for him lately. Maybe he was going a little crazy over the grief and maybe she was reading too far into the paper she had found on his floor. Professor Wheatley had warned her about taking everything too literally. Professor Sharp’s note could have meant anything. It didn’t have to mean he was a vampire.

“Sometimes I wish she would have died sooner,” the professor continued. “Now; even more so, it would have spared her so much pain. You have no idea what chemotherapy can do to a person. It’s almost as bad as what happened after.”

The professor’s voice had gained a hard edge that frightened Ashe. She knew she should leave, but something told her that if she tried to, the professor would stop her.

“She had wanted to go out into the country to spend a peaceful last few weeks before the end. But those demons found us instead. They took her and turned me, made me into a monster. They’re keeping her from me; she’s alive, but only barely. They can’t drink her poisoned blood, but they know how to make her hurt, and you’re the key to making all of it stop.”

A cold sweat prickled across Ashe’s brow. She had to get out of here and back to Peter. She had to tell him what Professor Sharp truly was.

“Professor? I’m going to be leaving now,” Ashe croaked, half-rising from her chair.

“Sit down and drink your tea,” he snapped suddenly, pounding his fist on his desk.

Ashe nearly cried out but caught herself just in time. She didn’t want to provoke him further. Her hand shook as she brought the cup to her lips. The tea had a sickly sweet smell to it, like the professor had been heavy-handed with the sugar to mask something bitter underneath.

At that moment the lights cut out, sending the whole room into darkness. Ashe threw the still-steaming cup of tea into the professor’s face and ran for the door. The professor roared in rage as the tea blinded him. She turned the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. The professor had locked it behind him when Ashe wasn’t paying attention. She fumbled with the lock and got it open just in time to narrowly miss the professor’s hand grabbing for the back of her sweater. She yanked the door shut behind her and sprinted down the hallway, not caring where she went, only that she got away.

Snow that was almost like hail pounded against the windows as the blizzard outside whipped the wind up into a frenzy. Ashe took turns at random, knowing that the professor was only yards behind her. She was no match for his speed or his ability to smell the pumping blood in her veins. No matter where she went, he would find her.

She turned a blind corner and smashed right into something solid but with a little give. The wind was knocked out of her and she tumbled to the floor. She rolled over in pain and saw the stern face of Professor Wheatley staring down at her.

“Get up,” he said. “We have to go.”

He grabbed her hand and yanked her up with a strength she had not thought possible for a man of his age. But to her relief, his palm was warm in hers. He was not one of them.

He pulled her into a nearby classroom and closed the door behind them.

“We can’t stay here,” Ashe whispered through heaving breaths. “He can smell us. He’ll find us.”

Professor Wheatley put a finger to his lips and took something out of his pocket that looked like a small square of burlap tied into a bundle. He handed it to Ashe, telling her, “Keep this in your pocket. It's nothing special, just a strong mix of herbs. It’ll mask your smell long enough to get us away from here.” 

“You knew what he was,” Ashe panted.

The professor shook his head. “I had my theories, but we can talk about it later. Right now we need to get you somewhere safe.”

He moved over to one of the classroom windows and lifted it open. A blast of cold wind blew into the classroom, along with a flurry of snow. Ashe could barely see anything beyond the open window through the snow. She didn’t want to imagine what Peter was thinking right now; he was likely worrying himself sick if he wasn’t out braving the blizzard trying to look for her.

As the professor clumsily climbed out the window, Ashe took out her phone. She wanted to send Peter a message telling him she was okay and that she would be home soon, but she saw with disappointment that she had no signal. The blizzard must have knocked out power citywide, if not further.

“Get the lead out,” Professor Wheatley snapped, having made it successfully over to the other side of the window.

She slid her phone into her pocket and hoisted herself out after him. The snow drifts outside were nearly a foot deep and were only growing deeper the longer they waited. Professor Wheatley set off into the blizzard, in the general direction of what Ashe guessed was the parking lot. Ashe wondered how he expected to be able to drive in all this snow.

Within minutes, Ashe could already feel the cold seeping into her bones. The bottoms of her jeans were clinging wetly to her shivering calves and she couldn’t feel her toes or fingers anymore. Her wool coat was doing little to discourage the snow from finding its way down her back, though she thought she had wrapped her scarf securely enough. The snowflakes must have been melting and dripping down into her clothes from the gaps in her scarf. Professor Wheatley was bundled tightly in a waterproof down jacket, having been on his way out when Ashe had run into him in the hallway.

Finally the dark hulking shapes of cars became visible through the blizzard. Professor Wheatley stopped at a station wagon— the kind often seen outside the city, with ski racks on top— and started clearing the snow off the windshield. Ashe went over to help. Their movements were fast and furtive, as if at any moment Professor Sharp could come leaping out of the whiteness and spirit Ashe away before Professor Wheatley could save her again. Once the windows were cleared, they got in and the professor started the engine.

“Is it safe to drive in this?” Ashe asked, watching nervously out the front windshield as the professor pulled slowly onto the road. It was hard to determine exactly where the road ended and the sidewalk began. For all Ashe knew they were driving across the campus green and would smash right into the student center at any moment.

Professor Wheatley held the wheel in both hands, his shoulders hunched stiffly forward. “Safer out here than in there,” he said. “Where am I taking you?”

“To my friend’s house,” Ashe said, not yet sure how much she should trust the professor. They passed through an intersection and Ashe saw an office building on the corner that helped her orient herself. “It’s straight past here, take a left on 13th, and I’ll tell you where to turn again when we get closer.”

“By the way, thank you for helping me,” Ashe added after a pause.

The professor only grunted in recognition. “You’re not new to this stuff, are you?” he asked.

Ashe had not known about the existence of vampires until mere months ago, but she had been through quite a lot since then.

“That explains your papers,” Professor Wheatley. “All this time I thought you weren’t taking the class seriously. You always write as if there’s a possibility the folklore is real and can be taken at face value. I tried to get you to be more serious, to dig deeper, but you already were. You know the importance of what I teach, more than most. I’m sorry for giving you a hard time.”

Ashe didn’t know if it was the residual fear from being chased by a vampire leaving her system, or the cold, or her exhaustion, but she felt her eyes stinging with tears at the professor’s words. Under everything he was a good man and she would likely be dead if he hadn’t been there to save her.

“But how did you know about Professor Sharp, or any of this?” Ashe asked as the car rolled slowly along the empty streets. The stop lights at every intersection were dead from the power outage.

“I’ve studied mythology and folklore for all of my adult life,” Professor Wheatley said. “Once you start opening doors, it’s easy to come across information that isn’t meant for your eyes. As for Professor Sharp, he has been chasing after a cure for vampirism ever since he came back from winter break. He has been so single-minded in trying to find the answer that he hasn’t bothered to cover his tracks. At first I thought that his sick wife may have been turned somehow, but recently I started watching the professor more closely and today I got the confirmation I needed to know that the cure he was seeking was for himself.”

Ashe took a moment to take it all in. Professor Sharp had become a vampire and Professor Wheatley had saved her. She thought back to all of those meetings in Professor Sharp’s office that year. He had been a good man, Ashe thought with regret. He had believed in Ashe when no one else had, even introducing her to the young man who had become the most important person to her in this world. Landon had taken all of that and destroyed it; Ashe burned with rage. Landon had known that Ashe wouldn’t have suspected the professor. She had trusted him. She had been blind to all the signs until it was too late.

If only Peter had gone in to see Professor Sharp after the break, he may have picked up on the signs and Ashe wouldn’t have been in danger. But Professor Sharp had also said something about Ashe being a key to end his wife’s suffering. His wife wasn’t dead, and some vampires were keeping her. Ashe had no doubts as to the identity of the vampires in question. Landon’s clan was behind this; she would have to tell Peter. They were no longer safe in the city.

“The house is the dark grey one with the tree out front,” Ashe instructed as they pulled onto Peter’s street.

The car rolled to a natural stop beside what Ashe assumed to be the curb. Professor Wheatley looked at her with the same stern expression as always, though Ashe could perceive a glimmer of compassion behind it. “Don’t stay in one place too long, okay? I’ll do what I can about the professor, but you have to keep moving.”

Ashe nodded.

“You’ll be all right.”

Ashe stepped out of the car and into the blizzard. She ran half-blindly to Peter’s front door. The door was unlocked and she opened it herself, not wanting to wake his family, who she knew was sleeping downstairs. The hallway was dark and the heat wasn’t on, though it wouldn’t have been even if the power had been working. Peter’s family only warmed up the house when Ashe was coming over, as she was the only one who needed it.

Ashe hung her damp coat and scarf on the coat rack by the door and tossed her backpack underneath. Peter wasn’t in the living room or kitchen so Ashe went upstairs. She hoped he wasn’t out in the storm looking for her. Maybe he had been snowed in at the student center. Either way, he would be worrying about her, just as she was worrying about him. She went back to the hallway and dug through her backpack until she found the ruby earrings Peter had given her. She slipped the posts into her earlobes feeling the comforting weight of the jewelry on her ears. She wanted to be close to Peter in any way she could. If only she knew where he was.

Peter didn’t like the idea of Ashe going to class with the coming storm. After she left the student center, he struggled to stay focused on his homework. He shifted restlessly on the sofa, every once in a while looking out at the quad. The wind was picking up and the snow had covered the ground in an even blanket. There wasn’t a soul outside and few remained in the student center. The lights flickered once but remained steady for a while after that. Peter stood up and took a walk around the building to calm his nerves. It was just a storm, he told himself.

As he was circling the first floor snack bar, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He thought it might be a message from the administration cancelling classes, but it was a message from Mark instead.

“Call me,” it said, as Mark’s messages always did.

He dialed the number and waited for Mark to pick up. He wondered if Mark had found something new. There had been a lull in communication for a while now as Mark focused on staking out the house Landon’s clan had holed up in. They needed to know what they were up against before they went in for the kill.

The lights flickered a second time just as Mark picked up. Peter glanced at the snack bar’s wall clock: it was just after 3:00pm. Ashe would be coming back any second now. The snow outside was coming down in clumps.

“I’ve been watching the house for three days now and I’ve finally got everything figured out,” Mark shouted over the loud rumble of a car engine in the background. His voice crackled with static, “There are six vampires in the house including Landon. Four seem to be Alilovics—Landon, his father and older brothers. There are two young women with them who don’t seem to be part of the family. There’s no evidence that Landon’s mother or any other female members of his clan are there with them.”

“And their victims?”

“That’s been harder to determine,” Mark replied. “There should be four of them. I haven’t seen any bodies being dragged out, but they may have disposed of some before I started surveillance.”

Peter counted in his head. “Wait, there should be three. There was the old man and the couple who crashed their car. Who’s the fourth?”

“I haven’t had time to call you about the last one. It’s hard to determine when the incident happened, but I think it lines up with Landon’s clan leaving the city. It took a while for the police to find out about this one because the woman lived alone. By the decay of the food left on the counter, they estimated she’d been gone a week before anyone noticed she was missing. There’s no sign of where she could have gone, but her house is only a couple of miles from the one being used by Landon’s clan.”

Peter felt sick thinking of all the victims. He wondered how many of them were still alive. He recalled the blood-draining setup he had found in Landon’s basement. Any one of those victims could have been Ashe. One could still be Ashe, if Peter wasn’t careful. A powerful rage burned beneath his skin. He needed to wipe out Landon’s clan.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” Peter asked.

Mark replied, “No, I was leading up to the most important part. Now that we know how many vampires there are, everything’s set for the extermination.”

“You’re going to strike tonight?” Peter asked.

“No, in a couple of hours. We want to catch the clan while most of them are still sleeping. The guys I called in to help us are all here, and with the blizzard coming, the clan will have nowhere to run.”

“You’re going to have to give me more time,” Peter said. He still had to walk Ashe home, and more importantly, hold her one more time before he went to battle. He was no stranger to fighting and he knew Mark and the others were good at their job, but there was always that slim chance of a slip-up. His last encounter with Landon had been close enough. If Ashe hadn’t been there...

“I’m in the city,” Peter said, snapping back to the present. “It will take me a couple of hours at least to get out there and that’s not accounting for the snow.”

“It’s now or never,” Mark warned.

Peter watched the clock out of the corner of his eye. Ashe was running late. “I’ll leave as soon as I can. Just hold on until I can get there.”

“Too late; I’m parked outside,” Mark said casually. “I can see you through the window.”

Peter turned slowly to the wall of wide windows across from the snack bar. He could barely make out the black car parked by the curb; it was the only car on the street without a thick covering of snow on its hood. Puffs of white were coming out of the exhaust pipe.

“I told you. I can’t go now.”

The car outside honked. Peter could hear it through the phone and its echo outside at the same time.

“We’re not going to get out of the city if you don’t get your ass out here,” Mark growled. “We’ve only got one chance at this. You want to keep your loved ones safe, don't you?”

Peter thought about Ashe and what was best for her. He had promised to walk her home, but what was a little snow compared to the larger threat of Landon looming over her head? If he insisted on waiting for Ashe, he might mess up his chance to get rid of Landon’s family.

She was almost twenty minutes late now. Peter couldn’t stall much longer. He had to make a decision. “Okay,” he said into the phone. “I’m coming out.”

He quickly hung up the phone and typed out a message to Ashe, telling her to go home without him. Before he could send it, the lights went out in the student center and his phone lost its signal. The bluish light from his cell phone became the only illumination in the entire room. Peter could almost hear Ashe’s voice in his head telling him to come get her, but he ignored it. He knew that constantly worrying about her like this was unhealthy for him, though the echo of her voice nagged him not to go. He hoped that Ashe wouldn’t waste time trying to find him; her house wasn’t far from campus. She would be okay

CHAPTER 5

Ashe walked around the entire house trying all of the light switches though she knew they wouldn’t work. Peter’s house was drafty and old, but she needed to stay here in case he came back. She thought about waiting out the storm at her own house, but it was too far to go on foot in such weather. Her coat and scarf still hadn’t dried out from the afternoon and she didn’t want to catch pneumonia or lose her toes to frostbite. She contented herself with roaming the halls of the quiet house, peering into half-empty moving boxes and tracing her name in the dust on the banister.

When that lost its charm, Ashe dozed for a while in a leather armchair in the living room. She was exhausted from running and trekking through the snow. Her fragmented dreams brought back visions of Professor Sharp in his office, staring at her with gleaming eyes that told Ashe of a broken, desperate man who do anything to get his wife back. He lunged at her and Ashe jerked awake.

It was hard to tell through the storm where the sun had gone, but Ashe’s phone told her it was nearing six. It also told her its battery was about to run out. She hadn’t meant to sleep nearly so long. As she slipped the phone back into her pocket, she noticed the bundle of herbs Professor Wheatley had given her. She brought it to her nose and could still smell, though faint, a mix of flowers and the piney scent of juniper. She smiled to herself, remembering the professor’s words of encouragement about her work in his class. She stretched her legs and got out of her chair. She walked over to the coat rack by the front door and carefully placed the bundle of herbs inside her coat pocket.

Though the house was still and blizzard had quieted back down into gentle snowfall, Ashe felt the urgency of her need to find Peter. Professor Sharp was still out there somewhere, and even if he couldn’t get to her in all this snow, he would be waiting for her. As Ashe was contemplating whether or not to brave the cold and head back to her home, she heard a door creak open somewhere inside the house. She stopped and turned slowly.

“Hello?” she called out quietly. There was no response. An image of Professor Sharp popped into her mind’s eye and she had to remind herself that the house wasn’t actually empty. Peter’s family were all sleeping downstairs. It must have been one of them.

She turned back around and took her coat from the rack. The wool was still slightly damp on the outside, but the inside was thankfully dry. She decided she would leave a note for Peter, telling him that she was back at her house, in case he came here looking for her.

As she scrawled her note, Ashe noticed the soft padding of footsteps behind her, but thought the sound was a figment of her frightened imagination. She only turned to look when she could no longer deny the feeling that there was someone in the room with her. Her pencil clattered to the floor.

“Penelope,” she said with a tone of surprise. Peter’s eldest sister was standing just inside the room, her dark hair pinned up in its usual manner, though looking messy from her recent slumber. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Ashe started backing up towards the door, her hand feeling for the doorknob.

“You’re looking for him, aren’t you? He’s not here,” Penelope said, taking a step closer. Ashe’s hand closed around the doorknob.

“I was just leaving,” Ashe replied, trying not to sound nearly as scared as she was.

“No, you’re not,” Penelope replied.

Ashe tried turning the doorknob, but found it was stuck. It was like a sickening instance of déjà vu from Professor Sharp’s office, only this time the lock wasn’t the problem. The door was simply stuck.

Penelope took another quiet step closer, gracefully, as if she were gliding across the hardwood floor.

Ashe rattled the doorknob violently but it was like the door had been glued in place. Ashe realized with horror that Penelope must have telekinetic powers to some degree, similar to how Landon could see future events. Maybe even Peter had psychic powers of his own; Ashe had never thought to ask him. Ashe gave up her struggle and let go of the doorknob.

“Still wearing the treasures that don’t belong to you, I see,” Penelope said in her icy voice.

“If you want them so much, you can have them,” Ashe spat. She was sick of being a pawn, the weak human that vampires thought they could bully and use for their own purposes. She pulled the earrings from her ears and thrust them out to Penelope. “Here.”

Penelope smiled, but did not accept the earrings. “How cute; but they are not yours to give. I only take souvenirs from those I kill.”

Peter had to be somewhere close, Ashe thought. He would be here soon and he would protect her. Besides, the rest of the family was sleeping downstairs. Penelope couldn’t do anything to harm her.

Ashe opened her mouth to yell, but no sound came out; it felt as though her throat had closed. She choked and struggled for breath until tears streamed down her face. Finally, Penelope released whatever hold she had on Ashe and Ashe fell to the floor, gulping down huge breaths of air.

“You try that again and I won’t be so kind,” Penelope warned Ashe, who was having trouble finding the will to stand. “My family won’t wake for another several hours. The only reason I’m up is because of your blood. It roused me from my dreams like the lure of a siren drawing in a passing ship. Landon did more than hurt you when he offered me your blood. He knows what I am and he marked you as mine.”

Penelope grabbed Ashe by the hair, forcing her to stand. Ashe bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain as Penelope twisted a fistful of hair.

“But before I drain you, I need just one thing. Do you know what that is?”

Ashe waited for the answer but it didn’t come. “What is it?” she whimpered as Penelope pulled her hair harder.

“I need you to call my brother and tell him you don’t love him.”

“Why?” Ashe asked through tears.

Penelope scoffed, “Why? Does it matter? I want you to break his heart so that he will never be able to love a human woman again. Your kind and ours aren’t meant to fall in love. All you bring is trouble; you are all pigs. You exist to be eaten by us and nothing more.”

“The power’s out,” Ashe muttered, trying to ignore the words cutting through her like a knife.

Penelope released Ashe’s hair. A puzzled look crossed her face and Ashe wondered if her knowledge of technology was as behind as her sense of fashion.

“No power means no cell reception. The towers can’t send the signal.”

Penelope crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking like she was suspicious of Ashe, but too unsure about the subject to contradict her. Ashe felt a little of her fear go away. Maybe she could use Penelope’s ignorance to her advantage.

“No problem. There are plenty of things we can do in the meantime. It’s amazing how much blood a human can lose before they lose consciousness.” Penelope said, a fresh smile forming across her thin pale lips.

There were four of them, one for every victim they hoped to find still alive in the basement. Mark handed out stakes with a leather-clad hand. There were studs of pure silver on each of his knuckles.

“Now be careful with these,” he was saying to the group. “Don’t do something stupid like stick yourself with the pointy end. Also, you need to make them count. You’ve only got two each.”

The men nodded. Peter palmed the round end of the stake, feeling its weight in his hand. He hated killing his own kind. It made him feel like a traitor, even when the vampires he was after would have done the same to him in a heartbeat. He focused instead on Ashe, on her beautiful light eyes and the way her dimples showed with every smile. He thought about the feeling of her in his arms, soft and warm and full of the energy of life. He always felt more human when he was around her and he needed to remember his humanity if he was to get through the night.

Mark continued instructing the men: “You need to make sure your kills are silent. There are six in Landon’s group, more if he’s turned some of the humans. We have to get as many as we can while they’re sleeping. A well-placed stake will silence them before they can fully wake. But you all know that already.” He chuckled grimly.

“I’d prefer to use bullets,” one of the men replied. He had a neatly trimmed beard and piercing blue eyes. “I can shoot them faster than they can wake up from the sound.” He pulled aside his coat to reveal a holster at his hip. The pistol grip looked like something out of an old Western.

“No sound,” Mark grunted. “Silent as the graves we’re sending them to. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Peter looked at men around him. They were vampires who had made a living from doing away with the members of their kind that posed problems for the greater community. At best they were crusaders working to protect humanity from the monsters lying in the shadows, but at their worst they were hired killers, skilled at exterminating their own kind. Though now Peter was working side-by-side with these men, there was a time not all that long ago when they would have been after Peter, just as they now hunted Landon’s clan. Peter’s past wasn’t free from sin; he was no stranger to the dark lust for blood and the desperate measures a vampire could take to get it. He only hoped that what he had done since then—getting his family onto donor blood and making sure they didn’t take any new victims—was enough to make up for his past transgressions.

“When we go down into the basement, don’t get distracted by the victims,” Mark was saying. “If they start to make a commotion, Bill, you know what to do.” The third vampire, a small man with sunken eyes, nodded in understanding at Mark. Bill had the same powers as Peter’s sister Penelope; he could manipulate the matter around him with his willpower alone. Of course there were limits to any vampire’s power and Peter hoped Bill was strong enough to silence a room full of desperate, suffering people. The success of the job may depend on it.

Landon’s house was a distant dark spot on the horizon, the details of its shape obscured by the falling snow. It didn’t look especially sinister from where Peter stood, but he knew that inside there would be horrors most people couldn’t imagine. He was glad Ashe wasn’t there, though he still worried whether she had gotten home okay in the snow. As Mark gave out more last-minute instructions, Peter pulled out his phone, as he had been doing periodically since leaving campus, to check if power had been restored to the signal towers. To his relief, there were two weak bars of reception, giving him the first hope he had felt in some time.

“I need to make a call,” he said, stepping away from the group. He had heard most of what Mark was saying already on the drive over. Besides, he didn’t need any reminders of what had to be done. Landon was a threat to his and Ashe’s happiness, and as long as Landon existed, he and Ashe could never truly be together.

Peter couldn’t wait to hear Ashe’s voice. He paced anxiously by the hood of Mark’s car, waiting for her to pick up. Her phone rang six, seven, eight times. Mark was motioning him to rejoin the group. Peter let the phone ring longer, but Ashe still didn’t answer.

“Peter, we have to go.” Mark pointed towards the house where a small figure was just barely visible walking away from the house. The person appeared to be heading for a small copse of trees to the right of the property. “Someone’s on the move. That means one less of them to worry about. Now is our chance.”

Peter cursed under his breath as he hung up the phone. He promised himself he would call Ashe as soon as he was done with Landon.

The four men set off across the white expanse of fields between the road and the house in the distance. As they got closer to the house, Peter thought he recognized the figure disappearing into the trees. It was hard to mistake him even through the snow. His long, striding steps and the dark coat he always wore with the collar turned up were sure signs it was Landon.

“Where are you going?” Mark asked, as he noticed Peter heading off in the direction that Landon had gone.

“I’m going to do what I came here for,” Peter called back. The wind had picked up again and Peter had to raise his voice to be heard over it.

Peter thought that Mark was going to try and stop him, but Mark only nodded at him gravely. He must have understood Peter’s need to go after Landon on his own. Peter turned to go towards the dark figure.

“Wait.” It was the blue-eyed vampire; he was holding out his gun. “I can’t use it anyway. The blizzard might hide the sound out there in the woods, but then again it might not. Only fire if it’s your last option. You can give it back when you’ve done what you need to.”

Peter ran back to take it. “Thanks,” he said, tucking the weapon into the back of his belt.

“Good luck,” the man called out as Peter disappeared through the veil of falling snow.

Peter couldn’t see anything beyond the trees ahead of him, but as soon as he stepped under the cover of their branches, the snow suddenly stopped and he found himself in a world cut off from the foul weather outside. Here and there a stray snowflake fell down through the thick tangle of tree branches above Peter’s head, but the wood was eerily silent all around him, as if even the wind was afraid to go where Peter had to. The ground was covered in a thick layer of fallen brown leaves that had been stopped in their decay by the freezing temperatures. Peter felt as if all time had stopped in these woods and they were just as they had been for centuries. He couldn’t see Landon anywhere around him, but knew the man had to be somewhere nearby. Peter set off to look for him.

As Peter walked through the wood, he started noticing what looked like small piles of rocks littering the mulch-covered ground. After a while he realized the piles were actually made by crumbling tombstones that had been broken to pieces by age. As he walked farther, the tombstones became more whole, until he could start to make out the inscriptions through the lichen growing on their faces. He stooped down to read one. “Mariana Alilovic,” it read, though the dates were unreadable.

Peter was confused. Could Landon have human relatives buried out here? That was highly unlikely. Peter bent down and put his hand on the ground in front of the tombstone. Though he had no particular skill for it, Peter felt he could sense something deep in the dirt, biding its time until it was time to wake. With a shiver Peter stood back up. The pieces were starting to fit together. Peter jogged ahead to look at a few more gravestones. “Eloise Alilovic, Joanna Alilovic,” Peter muttered to himself. Each grave gave Peter that same eerie feeling that it was occupied. Mark had said there had been no sign of Landon’s female relatives. Peter knew that vampires were sometimes forced into a state of hibernation when they did not receive enough blood for a long period of time. Aside from their brief use of David’s stolen blood, Landon’s clan had largely been relying on hunting to survive.  Could the women of Landon’s family be buried in this wood, waiting until they could be resurrected with a fresh supply of blood?

There was movement to Peter’s left and he stood up quickly, his fist closed around the handle of one of the wooden stakes Mark had given him. He didn’t want to reveal the gun before he needed to. Landon came out from the trees, looking smug as always. He slicked back his hair and gave Peter a smile.

“I missed you.”

Peter felt bile rising in his throat. This was the man who had threatened Ashe and tempted Peter’s own sisters into betraying their promise to him not to harm a living human. “Wish I could say the same,” he replied.

Landon tapped the side of his head. “My visions told me you were coming, but I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive. It seems you’ve caught me a bit off-guard.”

“I thought you’d have cleared the country by now, especially knowing what I was coming to do to you.”

“We couldn’t leave without the whole family,” Landon replied, sweeping his arms out and looking around. Peter wondered just how many family members had been buried here and how many more of them waited in Europe. But it was too late for Peter to turn back now. He had already committed himself to this fight and would do whatever it took to keep Ashe safe. He gripped the stake tighter in his hand.

“It was only going to be a few more days,” Landon said. “We’ve finally got enough blood stored up to bring the family back together, thanks to those warm bodies we’ve got chained up in the basement. Not including the sick one, mind you. The chemicals in her blood could burn a hole in your stomach. Believe me, I tried.”

Peter frowned as he failed to make sense of Landon’s words.

Landon chuckled. “Oh right, you probably haven’t heard. We ran into your favorite professor and his wife a while back. We still have the woman but we let the husband go after some... improvements.”

“You turned Professor Sharp?” Peter asked with a twinge of anxiety. All semester Ashe had been taking his classes, sitting only feet away from a vampire under Landon’s control. She had even gone to his class right before the blizzard had hit!  What if Professor Sharp had done something to her then?

“Yes, and he should be on his way with my prize as we speak. My father said it’s about time I found a mate of my own. Ashe will be much happier as one of us, don’t you think?”

Ashe was in danger. Peter could hear her calling for him, her voice an almost palpable noise in his head. It was much stronger than anything he had imagined before. He couldn’t stand the thought of Landon turning Ashe into a vampire against her will, or doing other things too horrible to even think of. The voice in his head was calling his name and begging him to save her, begging for the pain to stop.

Without thinking, he lunged for Landon.

Landon dodged out of the way with a humored look on his face. “You’re going to stick me with that splinter?”

Peter lunged again. Landon blocked Peter’s blow with his forearm and punched him in the stomach, but Peter was too full of rage to even notice. He retaliated, sending Landon crashing backwards against a gravestone whose grave had been partially cleared out. Landon landed with a thud in the shallow hole and struggled to gain his footing in the soft dirt. His sick smile had left his face, replaced by a look of increasing panic as Peter approached.

There was nowhere for Landon to run as Peter crashed his fist into his nose. Peter could feel the bones cracking under his knuckles, but it didn’t matter. There was only one way to stop a vampire. Peter raised his stake.

“Wait!” Landon shouted; spit flying from his quivering lips. He had lost his entire swagger and was now just a sniveling bug about to be crushed out of existence by Peter’s boot. Peter was done waiting.

All of a sudden Ashe’s cry for help came back, clear as a bell. Peter, please come home. She’s hurting me. I can’t stand it much longer; you have to save me.

This time there was no mistaking that the voice was real. The raw fear in it shook Peter to his bones. Maybe her voice in his head had been real all along. He should never have left her at the college.

There’s not much time.

Ashe’s voice cut off and Peter was sucked back into reality. His head reeled as if he were drunk. He plunged the stake straight into Landon’s heart, feeling nothing as the vampire screeched and writhed. Peter let go of the stake and backed away as Landon clawed at the weapon lodged in his chest, his movements weakening with every passing second.

Peter had finished what he needed to do. He felt no remorse for killing one of his own kind, or for leaving the others to clean up the rest of Landon’s clan without him. Mark and his men were professionals; they would be fine. Peter’s only thoughts were for Ashe.

The way back out of the wood was a blur. Peter’s mind was focused on trying to reach out to Ashe so he could hear her voice again. He didn’t like the way her voice had cut out so suddenly, as if something had happened to silence it. Though he had never heard anyone’s thoughts before, he didn’t think the lack of signal was a problem with his newfound telepathic ability. The reason he couldn’t hear Ashe was because she was no longer crying out to him.

As he sprinted across the field to Mark’s car, Peter could see through the still-falling snow, one of the vampire hunters. He was followed by a limping trail of Landon’s victims coming out of the house. Another hunter brought up the rear of the group. Peter counted five people total, not nearly as many as he had hoped. He wondered if there were more still inside.

He reached the road and got into Mark’s car, taking the spare key from above the sun visor where it was hidden. The tires squealed against the icy road as he pulled a sharp U-turn towards the town. With one hand held tight on the steering wheel, he dialed Ashe’s phone with the other. He hadn’t heard her voice since leaving the woods and he was starting to wonder if it had been a hallucination brought on by what Landon had said and Peter’s own desperate need to keep Ashe safe.

This time she answered.

“Peter.” Her weak voice quavered with tears. Just hearing it made Peter’s heart ache for her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his mind battling visions of Professor Sharp holding her hostage as he drove the car down the snow-covered highway as fast as he could go.

“You shouldn’t have called,” Ashe replied.

Ashe’s odd reply made Peter uneasy. “I was worried about you,” he said. “Did you get home okay? Are you safe?”

There was a long pause, then finally, “I—I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t keep being afraid of you.” Ashe was crying.

Peter felt as if he had been slapped in the face. “What do you mean?” he said. She wasn’t leaving him, was she? No, she couldn’t. Not now, not after everything he’d done to keep her safe.

“I pretended for so long because I thought you’d hurt me. Everything I said to you was a lie. I can’t be with you. I don’t—”

Ashe burst into sobs as Peter swallowed back the bitterness rising within him. Why was she telling him this now? It wasn’t him she should have been afraid of. It was the others—Landon, Professor Sharp, even Penelope, though Peter still hated to acknowledge what his sister had done while starving for blood. Peter wasn’t like the others. He would have died for Ashe in a second; he would have done anything for her.

Then, out of the murky depths of his thoughts came a whisper. Peter strained to listen, blocking out the painful sound of Ashe’s crying from the phone pressed to his ear. The whisper was frustratingly far away, like a dog whistle just above the range of human hearing. He could feel its vibrations, but could not hear what it was saying.

“I don’t love you,” Ashe sobbed into the phone.

Peter only half-registered it, his mind still hung up on the phantom signals. “Wait,” he said. “Don’t say anything.”

“But it’s true,” Ashe sobbed harder. “You have to believe me. Please.”

The voice in Peter’s head was getting clearer, fighting its way through the conflicting noise. Peter gunned the car engine faster, only paying the minimum attention to the scenery whipping by as he fought his breaking heart with every word Ashe said.

“Please, Peter. You have to believe me. I said I don’t love you. I never loved you.” Ashe’s voice was desperate as she shouted for him to reply, but the signal in Peter’s brain started to overpower her spoken words.

I love you Peter. I always loved you.

Peter nearly dropped his phone. The words sounded the same as they had in the wood. He tried to send a message back.

I know, he thought back.

Ashe’s crying on the phone abruptly stopped.

“Are you there?” Peter asked out loud.

“I—I—”

Someone’s there with you, aren’t they? Peter thought. They’re making you say these things to me.

Peter? Is it really you?

Yes, and I’m on my way. Where are you?

You can read minds?

No, I don’t know. This is the first time. But I heard you calling for me. I knew you were in danger. Just tell me where you are.

I’m at your house.

Who’s with you?

Penelope.

Hearing that name was like a stake through his heart. Peter couldn’t even keep Ashe safe from his own family. He couldn’t believe his own sister would do something like this to the woman he loved.

Peter realized that the phone had been silent for far too long. If Penelope was there listening, she would start to grow suspicious. He forced himself to speak aloud.

“It’s okay, I get it. I never should have thought we could be together. I was stupid.”

He heard Ashe’s voice in his mind. I’m so sorry for what I said, but I had to.

I know. It’s okay, he replied. I love you.

“I guess this is goodbye, then,” Peter said into the phone.

I love you too, Ashe replied.

The steady drip of blood into the jar was the only sound in the house. It punctuated the seconds, reminding Ashe just how precious her time really was. She was lying on the sofa with one pale arm hanging off the edge, her fingers barely grazing the floor. From the inside of her elbow, a thin tube trailed across the floor like a snake until it met up with a large glass jar sitting on the coffee table. Her whole body ached as though she had just run a marathon; she was having trouble drawing even breaths. Her vision swam as she glanced down at the glass jar on the low table beside her. It was nearly half full. At least the pain had gone away, the cuts inflicted on her by Penelope’s razor a fuzzy memory in Ashe’s mind.

The only thing that allowed Ashe to keep her tenuous grasp on consciousness was the echo of Peter’s words in her mind. He was coming to get her and she had to stay strong for him. She couldn’t give up hope.

“I learned this technique from a friend,” Penelope said, checking that the stopper on the jar, through which the tube fed, was secured tightly. “This kind of bloodletting can be used intermittently for weeks if the victim is strong and given time to rest in between. Fortunately for you I don’t have that luxury this time around. I have to get rid of you by the time the others wake.”

Ashe felt like her ears had been stuffed with cotton and Penelope’s words sounded muffled.

Hurry Peter.

Ashe tried to project her message as she had earlier, but her mind was too weak from the blood loss to fix on any one thought for too long. She didn’t know if Peter’s telepathy could reach her mind without any effort on her part, but she hadn’t heard anything from him since their phone call. Her hope that he would get there in time was draining with every drop of blood that filled the jar.

“The way you broke Peter’s heart was just delightful, by the way,” Penelope crooned. She licked her red-tinged lips. “And the note you leave when you run away from home will be just as good. No one will ever suspect that you’re actually buried somewhere outside of town in an unmarked grave.”

She pinched the thin rubber tube leading from the inside of Ashe’s elbow to the jar, which now was half-filled with blood, and removed the stopper from the jar. Ashe felt momentary relief as the flow of blood from her body stopped. She wondered if Penelope was done with her for now. With the snow, it was impossible to tell how late in the evening it was, but it couldn’t be long before the rest of Peter’s family woke. Even if Penelope was letting her rest now, her time would be up soon enough if Peter didn’t get here.

“Does that feel better?” Penelope smiled her razor smile.

Ashe muttered weakly and closed her eyes. She needed a few moments to rest, that was all, but she wouldn’t let herself fall asleep. Somehow she knew that if she fell asleep now, there would be no waking up again.

“You might think I’m evil for what I’m doing to you, but I’m not. What I’m doing to you is only in my nature. But of course you already understand this to some degree.”

Ashe felt a tugging on the needle in her arm then a strong feeling of vertigo.

“You allowed your father to continue his important work for our family. You even tried to forgive me for my sin of biting you. But what you fail to comprehend is that our hunger is not meant to be controlled or managed like some chronic disease that eats away at an otherwise healthy body.”

Ashe’s ears thudded then rang in a single eerie pitch. She opened her eyes to see what Penelope was doing to her, but black spots obscured her vision. They spread over Ashe’s vision like mold, making her sick to her stomach.

“Our vampirism is what gives us our power. It’s our deepest essence. You accepted us despite what we are, not because of it. You may think in your stupid little head that you love my brother but what you feel is not true love. You can never love him completely because deep down you’re revolted by the fact that he lives of the blood of human beings.”

Intense pain shot down Ashe’s arm and her skin began to tingle with the loss of feeling. With shock she realized what Penelope was doing. She was drinking directly from Ashe’s artery.

Ashe willed herself to move but her body refused to respond. She managed to lift her head a few inches off the sofa cushion, but consciousness threatened to escape her for good this time. She let her head fall back down with a thud. Her eyes were useless in her head as the darkness consumed her.

She was dying and Peter wasn’t there to save her.

CHAPTER 6

Peter drove the car right up onto the lawn. It didn’t matter since it was in the snow; he couldn’t afford to waste any time. He had been trying to reach Ashe telepathically the whole ride over but could not detect even the slightest trace of her in his mind. The thought that something had happened to her nagged at him and made him feel guilty for ever leaving her side. He was already at the front door of his house when he realized he was holding the remaining stake Mark had given him, its twin having already been lodged into Landon’s heart. Peter didn’t know if he could bear to do the same to his own sister, the woman who had sung over his cradle and brought him blood when he was too young to hunt for himself. Landon had been a monster, but Penelope was family. It wouldn’t be so easy this time around.

Peter burst through the front door and into a nightmare scene. Ashe lay on the sofa as if dead. Penelope had Ashe’s arm to her mouth, rivulets of scarlet blood dripping down from her lips onto the carpet below. She looked feral, her eyes lit with an unnatural light. She was a creature from the depths of Hell itself.

“Get off her!” Peter shouted, shoving Penelope away from Ashe.

Penelope hissed and backed up as Peter brandished the stake. He crouched protectively over Ashe, holding one hand tightly over the wound on her arm to stop the flow of blood. Peter fought a wave of dizziness as the tangy metallic smell was going straight to his head. His grip tightened on her arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. Her eyelids fluttered, but she was otherwise unresponsive. There was a sheen of cold sweat on her brow. Peter could see the fine cuts crisscrossing Ashe’s skin as he put his fingers to her neck for a pulse. He winced, thinking about the pain that had been inflicted on her. Her pulse was weak and fading with every second.

“What did you do to her?” Peter shouted at Penelope.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, ignoring his question. “Didn’t you listen to what Ashe told you? She’s disgusted by you. You mean nothing to her.”

“What did you do to her?” Peter demanded.

His sister staggered drunkenly to her feet and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “I did what you always knew I would do,” she replied.

“I never thought my own sister would turn into such a monster,” Peter growled.

“Who says I ever changed? You’re the one who has changed little brother. You’ve grown docile and weak; the human girl has tamed you. It’s sickening. I’m done bending over backwards like you to hide my true nature. So what are you going to do, kill me?” She nodded at the stake in Peter’s hand. “You’re not going to kill me. If you let go of Ashe’s arm now she’ll bleed out and die. This time it was no love bite that I left her with. She’s not getting out of this one alive.”

Peter could see the rise and fall of Ashe’s chest as she breathed. Each time he was scared the next one wouldn’t come. He slowly lowered the stake and placed it on the coffee table. Penelope smirked. He then reached behind his back and pulled out the gun he’d been carrying. Penelope’s smile froze.

“You wouldn’t,” she muttered.

“I’d do anything for Ashe.”

“I’m your sister.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Penelope cried. “You can’t possibly be choosing this pathetic human over your own flesh and blood. Just look how weak she is. When she dies you’ll be alone. The clan will punish you for killing me.”

Peter’s hand shook as he cocked the gun. “Help me save her and I’ll let you go. She’s still alive. You can fix this.”

“You’re the one that needs fixing,” Penelope said. “You’ve forgotten what you really are.”

“Ashe never did anything to you. You don’t have to do this,” Peter replied.

Penelope took a step towards the door.

“Please,” Peter shouted.

Penelope turned and Peter squeezed the trigger. The bullet went wide and hit the wall behind Penelope as she disappeared through the doorway. He didn’t have the opportunity for a second shot.

Peter let the gun clatter to the floor as he reeled from the shock of what he had nearly done. Only his nerves had caused him to miss the shot. At least that’s what he told himself. In his century of life he had been in several wars and had never once choked like that, not when it counted. He wanted to believe that this time was different, but a part of him worried that he had missed the shot on purpose. He had chosen to let Penelope go.

Ashe moaned, bringing Peter back to the present. She was still losing too much blood through Peter’s fingers clamped over her arm. Peter pulled his belt from his jeans and looped it around Ashe’s upper arm like a tourniquet. This stopped most of the blood flow long enough for Peter to pull his phone out of his pocket with shaking, bloodstained fingers and call David to come save his daughter’s life.

As he waited for David to arrive, he tried to use his telepathy to communicate with Ashe. He wanted to reassure her that everything was okay, even though he wasn’t sure that it was. Her pulse was barely perceptible and the heartbeat in her chest was the vaguest of whispers.

Don’t die, Peter thought. Please Ashe don’t die. I’d be nothing without you. I promised you a lifetime together. You can’t leave me now.

Peter thought of one way that Ashe would be able to stay with him longer, in fact eternity. A few drops of Peter’s blood and Ashe would become immortal. At first Peter felt guilty for even entertaining the thought, but the weaker Ashe’s heartbeat became, the more desperate he was. He couldn’t bear to lose her.

“Ashe,” he said. “Can you hear me?”

He needed to know that she understood what he was going to do for her.

Ashe, he said to her in his mind. I need you to talk to me. You’re dying, but there’s a way to save you.

He couldn’t tell if she had heard him.

I need to turn you. It’s the only way. David’s on his way, but he won’t be here in time. It’s the only way we can be together.

Still there was no reply; Ashe was on the cusp of being lost forever. Peter tried to stretch out the seconds waiting for either a response from Ashe or for David to come bursting through the door. When neither happened, Peter was forced to make an impossible decision. He tried to think of what Ashe herself would have decided if faced with the choice between her life and her humanity. He knew that what she had said to him on the phone earlier had been lies forced upon her by Penelope’s torture, but could there have been a kernel of truth hidden somewhere in her words? Maybe Ashe really was frightened by him, not that he would hurt her, but by the world he belonged to and the shadows lurking there. Maybe his appetite for blood did disgust her. What would it do to her to force her into such a life without giving her the choice?

He feared that Ashe would hate him for turning her, but at least she wouldn’t be dead. Peter would teach her how to live as a vampire, how to control the urges and continue as normal a life as she could until she aged a couple hundred years and the sun became too harsh for her to endure. He would take all of her hatred for him and absorb it so that it wouldn’t eat her up inside, then give it back to her as love. He could be strong enough for the both of them. He knew he could.

With a sense of urgency, Peter shattered the jar on the table. It released the thick scent of Ashe’s blood— even stronger than what was coming from the bite wound on her arm. He picked out one of the larger shards and poised it over his forearm. Once he did it, there was no turning back. For better or worse, Ashe would be one of his kind.

The screeching of tires outside stayed his hand. Peter set the shard of glass down shakily. David came in the door moments later carrying a large black duffel bag and looking like he was bracing himself for battle. Peter had been so close to doing the irreversible. He didn’t know if he could have lived with himself had he actually gone through with it.

“Help me with this,” David said.

Peter didn't miss a beat. He unzipped the bag and started handing equipment to David to give Ashe a blood transfusion. The first time Penelope had fed on Ashe, she had only drained enough blood to make Ashe weak. This time Penelope had meant to kill her.

David slid the needle into Ashe’s uninjured arm.

“I’m going to need to stitch up the bite. She’s unconscious for now, but I don’t have any anesthetic and I can’t be sure she won’t wake up from the pain.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll hold her down.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as David plunged the needle into Ashe’s skin, her eyes fluttered open and she moaned.

“It’s okay,” Peter said, holding her arm steady with one hand and smoothing down her hair with the other.

David paused, giving Ashe some time to orient herself.

“Your dad needs to close the wound on your arm so you don’t lose any more blood.”

Peter could tell that Ashe was afraid, but she didn’t try to protest. “Stay with me,” she muttered.

“I’m right here,” Peter replied.

David set to work again and Ashe gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Peter wiped the tears that fell from the corners of her eyes. “You’re almost done,” he said, glancing down at the progress David was making. Peter could see the grim lines of determination on the man’s face. He was managing to keep his hand steady though Peter could tell that every stitch hurt him just as much as it did his daughter. The wound was a lot worse than Peter had imagined. Penelope must have really wanted to hurt her.

“All done,” David said as he tied the end of the string holding the needle. Ashe let out a shivering breath.

“You did great,” Peter said.

“Yeah,” David agreed. “Turns out my little girl is a lot tougher than I thought. Guess your mom did fine raising you without me.” He laughed self-consciously in the awkward silence that followed, and then got up to go wash the blood from his hands.

The color was still missing from Ashe’s cheeks, but she had managed to stay conscious through the stitches. Her pupils were no longer dilated either. A pint or two of blood and she would be all right, Peter thought. It had been close though, too close.

Ashe mumbled something that Peter didn’t catch.

What? Peter asked in his head.

I think everything’s going to be okay now, Ashe replied before falling into a deep sleep.

Ashe awoke to the sound of Peter talking on the phone. The inside of her left arm felt like it was on fire and her head ached terribly. She had no way of telling how long she’d been asleep, but it was dark outside and she had been moved to a real bed. It wasn’t hers though; it must have been Peter’s.

“Tell Mark he can come pick up the car any time he wants,” Peter said as he paced the hallway outside the bedroom with the phone against his ear.

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have helped you guys out... no, she’ll be okay.”

Peter glanced in at Ashe from the doorway and noticed she was up. He smiled.

“I have to go, but I’ll call you again. Yeah, let me know if you hear anything about the woman’s husband.”

He went over to her bedside.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Ashe replied. She sat up a little. “How long have I been asleep?”

“For the best part of two days,” Peter replied. Though he smiled at her, his eyes betrayed worry.

The last memories before Ashe’s long sleep started coming back to her and with them, a feeling of unease. “Where were you?” she asked him.

Peter frowned slightly. “I’ve been at the house this whole time. I haven’t left once since you fell asleep two nights ago.”

“No, I mean when I needed you. Where were you during the snowstorm when Penelope had me?” She could sense that Peter was ducking the answer on purpose and she didn't like it one bit.

Peter glanced away from her. “I didn’t know she was going to do something like that. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Where were you?” Ashe insisted.

Peter sat down at the edge of the bed and reached his hand out toward her, but Ashe crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring his gesture. She wasn’t going to let him anywhere near her until he told her the truth.

“Some other vampires and I tracked Landon’s family to a place outside of town,” Peter said. “During the blizzard I went there to get rid of Landon once and for all. It was our only chance to catch them off-guard and I couldn't stand the idea of Landon coming back here to hurt you. I had to do something. The man I was talking to on the phone when you woke up was one of the vampires who helped. Landon’s dead, along with his father and two brothers. They managed to save three of the people being kept by the clan. We lost one of ours, though. His name was Mark and he was a good man. ”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ashe asked. She couldn’t believe he had kept this from her all semester. They had agreed that Landon wasn’t their problem anymore.

“I was trying to keep you safe,” Peter said. “At least I thought I was, but I was just being stupid. I knew you wouldn’t want me chasing after Landon.”

“But you did it anyway.”

Peter had no response. Ashe wondered how many other secrets he had been keeping from her.

Tears pooled her eyes as the bitter feeling of betrayal settled in her chest. “You said you’d never leave me, but you did. You’re no better than my father.”

“But your father came back; I came back too. I saved you.” Peter’s eyes held Ashe’s in their strong gaze. Ashe found her anger flagging.

“That’s not the point,” she mumbled, toying with the bandages on her arm. “If you make a promise to me you need to keep it.”

Peter leaned over and wrapped his arms around her. The familiar feeling of his embrace made Ashe start to sob. She buried her face in the front of his sweater as the tears flowed freely.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Ashe cried. “I thought you would hate me for everything Penelope forced me to say and I would die knowing that I broke your heart.”

Peter held her tighter.

In the darkness of Peter’s embrace, Ashe felt safe enough to put words to something that had been bugging her ever since she had fallen into her dreamless sleep days before.

“You said something to me in my head when I was dying. You said something about saving me. I can’t remember what you told me, but I remember feeling scared. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready for it.”

“I was probably talking about your arm,” Peter said, letting his arms fall from her body. “You needed stitches to stop the blood, but we didn’t have anything to stop the pain.”

Ashe tried to decipher the look he was giving her, but she couldn’t. Something in the back of her mind still bothered her.

“You haven’t told me what happened to you during the blizzard,” Peter said, turning Ashe’s mind away from its troubled thoughts.

“I waited at the student center for you as long as I could, but you never came. When Landon told me about Professor Sharp being a vampire, I thought it was the professor who had gotten to you, not...” his voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to utter his sister’s name.

Ashe replied, “I went to Professor Sharp’s office after class, not knowing what he was. He tried to hurt me, but I ran when I realized what was happening. Professor Wheatley helped me escape the school and drove me to your house.”

“Professor Wheatley— the one who was always giving you a hard time in his class?”

“Yeah,” Ashe replied, thinking almost fondly of the days when his pop quizzes had been her biggest worry. “He had suspected that Sharp was a vampire for some time. He knew how to use herbs to hide my scent while we escaped. I think he knows a lot about vampires, even though he’s not one himself.”

Peter’s expression suddenly went dark.

“What is it?” Ashe asked.

“You didn’t tell him you knew about vampires before this, did you?”

“He guessed it on his own while we were escaping.”

“Did you tell him what I was?” The sternness of his tone scared her.

“No,” she replied. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“But he drove you to my house.”

“I didn’t tell him you’re a vampire. I just said you were a friend. Why are you so worried anyway? He helped me.”

The anger fled from Peter’s eyes and he calmed somewhat. “I’m sorry. It’s just that there are people who make it their business to track down vampires and get rid of them. I was only worried he was one of them.”

“Like the men who helped you deal with Landon,” Ashe said.

Peter shook his head. “That’s different. Mark and the others are vampires. They only go after the worst of our kind, the ones that present a danger not only to humans, but to themselves as well. They go after the kinds of vampires that give us our bad name, the ones that spur humans to fear us and hunt us regardless of how we get our blood. Human hunters don’t see us in shades of grey. They see us as monsters. To someone like that, I’m no different from Landon or Professor Sharp; I deserve death just as much as they do.”

“That’s horrible,” Ashe said, then asked suddenly, “How long have you been able to do that telepathy thing?” She was desperate to change the subject.

Peter looked confused. “What?”

This, Ashe replied.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. When I heard you calling for help it was the first time I’d ever heard anyone’s thoughts. At least, the first time I knew for sure. I think I’ve been catching your brainwaves for a while now but I’d always thought it was in my head. Finding out it was real surprised me as much as it surprised you.”

“Does that mean you know what I’m thinking all the time?” Ashe asked. If he could read minds that would definitely put a damper on their relationship. He would win arguments before they even started and she could forget about surprise birthday gifts.

“No,” Peter replied.

Ashe gave him a look.

He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I swear.”

You’re such an idiot, she thought, without trying to be heard. She wanted to see if he was really telling the truth. His face betrayed no reaction.

“What am I thinking now?” Ashe asked.

“I already told you it doesn’t work like that.”

Ashe bit her lip. “Oh, come on. I’m sure you have some idea.”

Peter leaned towards her. “Maybe I’ve got an inkling.” He pushed her backwards until her head was resting on the pillows behind her and kissed her hard. Ashe savored the moment, knowing just how close she had come to never being able to kiss Peter again. His fingers ran through her auburn hair and Ashe wondered with a thrill how they would feel on other parts of her body before remembering his telepathy and banishing the thought from her head.

Even if Peter could read her mind, Ashe was glad for his gift. They could have whole conversations together without anyone overhearing. It added a depth of intimacy to their relationship that excited Ashe. No matter where she was, she could be sure that Peter was only a thought away. What had happened to her during the blizzard would never happen again.

Ashe’s phone buzzed and Peter moved out of her way so she could get it. She reached over to the nightstand with a wince to pick it up. There was a new email from Professor Wheatley.

The message was extremely brief but unmistakably in Professor Wheatley’s own words:

I’ve dealt with Sharp; you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Now go out and live it.

P.S. Don’t give into the dark no matter how tempting it may seem.

For some reason, the professor’s cryptic last words brought to mind the important message Peter had been trying to tell her in her dying moments. She wished she could remember exactly what he had said.

“You okay?” Peter asked, no doubt noticing Ashe’s silence upon receiving the message.

She set down the phone. “It was Professor Wheatley. Sharp’s dead. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Peter gave her a hug. “That’s good. Now there’s a much slimmer chance of the rest of Landon’s clan finding out what happened to him.”

“I thought you said you destroyed Landon’s clan,” Ashe said with concern. If there were others out there they would no doubt be looking for revenge. The city wasn’t safe for her family or Peter’s.

Peter looked uneasy. “I said we killed the ones we could find. Landon’s clan is far larger than we first thought. The ones we killed were only a small branch of a tree with much deeper roots in the old world. There’s no telling just how many of them there are and eventually one of them is going to find out what happened to Landon.”

She could see the apology in Peter’s eyes as he explained this to her, but it didn't make accepting the truth any easier. Though Ashe had deluded herself that she could continue a somewhat normal life, taking classes and graduating on time with the rest of her year, it had proven impossible after all. Ashe had to accept the fact that her life would never be normal again.

“Then we need to leave the city,” Ashe said softly. Peter’s revenge killing of Landon had only delayed the inevitable. Ashe would have to leave the only place she had ever called home.

The car was mostly packed and all that was left were the goodbyes. Ashe felt a little bad about using a dead man’s car, but Peter had reassured her that Mark had no family or friends to give his few possessions to and the car would have gone to scrap otherwise. Ashe swung her backpack into the back seat and closed the door. She felt a sad knowing she wouldn’t be using it for school books ever again. She wouldn’t be able to finish the semester and graduate after all, but both Peter’s family and her own had decided that it was too dangerous for them to stick around the city any longer. They would have to find a new place to live, one where the remaining members of Landon’s clan would not be able to find them so easily.

Ashe’s mother and father stood on the driveway to the home they had shared back when Ashe was a little girl. Peter’s mother, father, and two remaining sisters were also there to see off the couple who were about to embark on their journey together into the unknown. At that moment, the open road ahead of them seemed endless to Ashe. She was still just the little girl that had watched her father drive off to work one day, never to return. Only he did return and now it was her turn to leave. No matter how far she and Peter drove, she would still find her way back to her family someday. She was sure of it.

The nighttime sky was brilliant with stars, the clouds having disappeared without a trace in an odd turn of weather. The garage lights were on, bathing the driveway in a warm glow that made the tears on Ashe’s mother’s face shine. Her red hair was wild as ever, the scrunchie tangled in its depths doing nothing to tame it. When she smiled, her dimples reflected Ashe’s own.

“You finally got what you wanted,” Ashe’s mother said, as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “You're free.”

Ashe felt tears in her own eyes. Now that the day had finally come to say goodbye to her mother, she found that she wasn’t quite ready. Everyone had decided that it would be better for the group to split up, at least for a while. The surviving members of Landon’s clan would be looking for retribution and a large group of vampires moving together would be too easy to find. Ashe and Peter would head north, Ashe’s mother and father west, and Peter’s sisters south. Peter’s mother and father were headed back to Europe to see if they could draw on some of their clan’s high standing in the old world to give them protection in the new one.

Ashe gave her mother a teary hug. “It’s only for a short while. We’ll all be back together before you can even miss me.”

“I already miss you.” Her mother clung to her almost painfully until Ashe’s father stepped in to give her a hug of his own.

“Take care,” her father said gruffly. His movements were stiff, as if he were fighting the urge to break down crying himself. Though he had not aged a day in over a decade, Ashe could see a weariness in his eyes that betrayed the long years he had endured without her and the sadness of having to say goodbye again so soon.

Ashe hugged him back hard.

“You’re the bravest young woman I’ve ever met and I’m not just saying that because you’re my daughter. You’ll be just fine.” He let go of Ashe and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “But if you need anything, we’re always just a phone call away.”

“That, and a couple thousand miles of open road,” Vanessa said, passing Ashe to throw another duffel into the back seat.

“Vanessa,” Peter warned.

So much for the heartfelt family moment, Ashe thought with a trace of annoyance. Vanessa only smiled, slamming the car door behind her.

When Peter turned away again, Vanessa pulled Ashe aside. Ashe followed her away from the rest of the group, who were still saying their goodbyes.

Vanessa said, “I know things between us haven’t been so hot. I mean, I kept you hostage and then threatened you into keeping quiet about Penelope.”

Ashe had already heard Vanessa’s apology more times than she could count. Though she didn’t particularly like Peter’s sisters, she knew she had to learn to put up with them. Aside from Penelope, none of them had ever overtly harmed her enough for anyone in the family except Peter to find cause for concern. Apparently, it was expected among vampires for tensions to run a little high once in a while. Still, Vanessa found the need to apologize to Ashe every chance she got.

“I’ve put you in danger so many times, but I want you to know that I’m not my sister. When Peter told us what had happened, one thing was clear. He cares a lot about you. The bullet hole in the wall is proof enough of that. I don’t care if you’re a human, or if my brother has only known you for a short time in the eyes of us immortals. You’re part of our clan and don’t you ever forget it.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t,” Ashe replied.

As Vanessa walked back to join the others, Ashe’s right hand reached up to touch the dark red stones in her ears. That was what those earrings meant, the ones that Penelope had been so envious of. They meant that Ashe belonged to Peter’s clan, that blood wasn’t the only marker of family or of love. Though Landon’s clan had been the one to turn Ashe’s father, Peter’s clan had been the one to take him in. By extension of that, Ashe supposed that she had been a part of their clan all along. It just took meeting Peter for everything to fall into place.

“You ready to go?” Peter asked, coming towards her with the keys to the car jingling in his hand.

It was happening too fast, Ashe thought. She was really leaving home for the first time after wanting it so badly for so many years. She looked to her mother, her father, and the members of Peter’s clan who would soon be sharing their own tearful farewells, if vampires like them were even capable of such emotion. Even a decade apart must seem like a long weekend to them, Ashe reflected.

“Ashe?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and got into the car. Peter came around the other side and settled in beside her. “This is the beginning of the rest of our lives,” Peter said eerily echoing Professor Wheatley’s words. “Don’t think of it as running away, but as chasing the unknown.”

But that was what Ashe was scared of— the unknown. She glanced out the windshield as her parents huddled together on the driveway in the orange light. They felt so far away already, like a vague memory from the past that she could only recall in dreams.

Peter reached across the seat to squeeze her hand. “I know this is all new to you. I’ve been doing this since I can remember, always uprooting myself from place to place, as the life of a vampire is never completely safe. I would have given anything to have what you did, a hometown, family vacations, even pictures of myself as a child smiling with my parents.”

He paused to gather his thoughts. “What I’m saying is that you’ve got these memories to keep you strong. No matter what happens in the future, nothing can take the past away from you.” He paused and frowned, as if his own words were somehow painful to him. “Nothing will change the fact that your parents loved you and still do, and you’ll always have a home to come back to. Maybe it won’t be in this city or even the state, but it’ll be home nonetheless.”

“What about you?” Ashe asked, sensing the pain in Peter’s heart.

“Me?” he laughed weakly. “I’ve never known the meaning of home. I thought it meant family, but I guess I was wrong. Without love, family means nothing.”

Ashe felt the truth in Peter’s words, but she also knew that sometimes you loved family despite the terrible things you did to each other, simply because you were connected by the bond of blood. Ashe wondered if Peter still loved his sister Penelope, just as Ashe had loved her father for all those years, even when she thought he had abandoned her.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Ashe said with resolve.

Peter squeezed her hand tightly before starting the car. Clouds of white exhaust puffed up in the back, while in the front Ashe could see their families waving at them from up the driveway. Ashe waved back, smiling through her tears and knowing that it wasn’t farewell forever. Nothing was ever permanent, Ashe thought, not even goodbyes.

THE END BOOK 2

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The Vampire’s Embrace

Adored by The Night:

Book 3

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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© Copyright 2017 by Persia Publishing - All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 1

It was just after eight o’clock and the roadside diner was bustling with people. It had been a long day of driving and Ashe was dead tired. She ate a burger and fries while Peter sat opposite her at the booth with a highway map unfolded in front of him.

He traced the lines of the highway with his finger. “If we backtrack a little then go east for a while, that should throw them off our trail.”

“How can you be sure there’s anyone after us?” Ashe asked. For the past few days, Peter had been convinced that a group of Landon’s people had been following them. Ashe didn’t blame him for feeling that way. It was only a matter of time before the remaining members of Landon’s clan found out that he, his father, and his two brothers had been killed by Peter and Mark’s men. But not yet, Ashe thought, not so soon after leaving the city. It wasn’t possible.

Peter looked up at her, and then past her over her shoulder as he tended to do a lot these days. “I saw him at the gas station yesterday, the one we stopped at around three.”

Ashe wanted to look over her shoulder as well but instead caught the man’s reflection in the windows lining the wall. He wore a baseball cap and a full beard. He could have been any of a number of long-haul truckers they had seen in the weeks they had been on the road.

“He doesn’t look familiar,” Ashe said.

“Trust me,” Peter replied.

The optimism they had both felt at starting their journey north had been since overshadowed by an almost constant feeling of foreboding. Landon’s clan was out there somewhere looking for revenge, and until Peter’s parents in Europe could figure out the extent of the threat, Peter and Ashe would have to lay low and bide their time. Ashe hated not knowing what was out there and feeling powerless to stop whatever was coming their way. But she knew that no matter what, Peter would be by her side and that reassurance gave her the strength to keep going.

Peter let Ashe finish her hamburger in silence and left some bills from his wallet on the table. He said nothing more about the man in the cap or his suspicions about being followed, but Ashe knew it was still nagging him.

They got back into the car and Ashe shivered as she waited for the heat to kick on. Peter was unaffected. He drove with that steely look in his eyes that told Ashe that his mind was miles away. He was thinking about something that troubled him. Ashe glanced away from him and turned to the window. It didn’t bother her that he was unreachable right now. They would connect again once they stopped somewhere for the night. It had become somewhat of a routine. Nestled in each other’s arms in some strange motel bed, they often talked until one or both of them fell asleep. In those moments, Ashe felt like they were two halves of a whole coming together again after a long time apart.

The countryside streamed by in an endless reel. There were few other cars on the highway. Long stretches went by without seeing another set of headlights. The stars shone much brighter out here than they were ever able to in the city as there was no light pollution to compete with, no haze of clouds to obscure their brilliance. The radio murmured quietly, a classic rock station that Ashe had found a couple towns back. The signal was getting stronger. They must be nearing a city.

“You see that car behind us?” Peter said suddenly, startling Ashe. She glanced up at the rearview mirror but didn’t see anything.

“I think it’s been following us for some time.”

Ashe sat up straighter in her seat, giving herself a better angle to see behind their car. She could just barely make out the glint of moonlight on metal in the distance behind them. She wouldn’t have noticed it had Peter not said anything. The car didn’t have its lights on.

Peter brushed a lock of hair from his brow, but the gesture didn’t have the same coolness it did when he usually did it. It was a gesture of nervousness, conveying to Ashe everything he hadn’t said to her in words just now. Peter must have been right about the man at the diner. Ashe could no longer doubt that they were being pursued.

She glanced at the mirror again. The car was getting closer.

“Don’t worry,” Peter said keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “They can’t do anything as long as we don’t stop. We’ll lose them in the next town.”

Ashe couldn't help but worry. She had no idea how far the next town was and the car was inching ever closer.

Peter didn’t increase his speed as the car caught up with them. Ashe could see the driver clearly now, his face looking red in the glare of their tail lights. She was surprised to see that it wasn’t the man from the diner. The man behind the wheel was no one she had ever seen before. He was clean-shaven and his hair was buzzed down. He could have been a police officer. But none of this did anything to assuage the fear that Ashe felt upon seeing him. She could feel in her gut that he meant them harm.

The driver turned on his high beams flooding their car with light and Ashe felt a jolt as they were hit from behind. Peter maintained control of the car and kept at an even speed. The car behind them remained inches from their back bumper threatening to hit them again.

“Lock your door,” Peter instructed.

“Why?” Ashe asked.

“He’s going to try to run us off the road,” Peter said. He reached across to Ashe’s seatbelt and gave it a strong tug to make sure it was secure.

“What are you going to do?” Ashe jammed the car lock into place just as the as the pursuing car moved to overtake their own.

“I’m going to let him,” Peter replied with a calmness that gave Ashe goose bumps.

She braced for impact as the car drew level with theirs. It swerved towards them, but Peter anticipated this and jerked the wheel in the same direction. The impact was lessened considerably as they swerved off the road, but it made no difference. Both cars smashed right into the base of an oak tree standing like a pillar off the side of the road.

Ashe had never been in a car accident before and couldn’t have imagined the violence of it. Her body slammed forward hard against her seatbelt, jerking backwards again almost immediately as the car came to a rest. She sat for a moment in the odd silence that followed, paralyzed by shock and unsure of what to do.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked her.

Her ribs hurt as she took shaken, gulping breaths. There were cracks in the glass of the front windshield, but there seemed to be no major damage to either the car or herself. “I—I think so,” she managed.

“That’s good. Stay here,” he told her getting out of the car.

Ashe unbuckled her seatbelt with shaking fingers and tried to open her door. She didn’t want to be left alone. But the door opened only a few inches before being stopped by something on the other side. It appeared that the other car had pinned her door closed.

She heard a scuffle outside and then low voices that she couldn’t quite make out. She wriggled across to the driver’s side and eased the door open. She needed to know what was happening out there.

“I could end you right now,” Peter growled in a tone that sent shivers up Ashe’s spine.

“I’d expect no less from one of Mark’s henchmen,” the man spat back.

“I work for no one,” Peter replied. “And besides, Mark’s dead.”

Ashe remembered Mark as the vampire who had helped Peter track down Landon and his family. He had also died fighting to save the people Landon had been feeding off of. Hearing his name again gave her a chill. Ashe opened the door a little wider and stepped out. If this had something to do with Landon, she had to know.

Peter had his back turned to her facing the driver of the other car. There was a black sheen of blood on the man’s lip.

The man looked toward the car catching sight of Ashe standing next to it. His expression twisted into something ugly. Ashe had seen such an expression before, in Penelope when she had caught the scent of Ashe’s blood. The man was a vampire.

Peter too sensed the change in the man and turned sharply towards Ashe. “Get back in the car,” he shouted at her. And then to the man, “You try to put a hand on her and I’ll tear you apart.”

The man hissed bearing his fangs, but stayed where he was. “You’re only asking for trouble keeping a human with you,” he said.

“You think I don’t know?” There was no humor in Peter’s tone. He was holding something behind his back—a jagged length of wood.

The man lunged, but Peter was faster. He caught the man around the throat with one hand and held up the stake with the other.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Peter warned.

The fight went out of the man’s eyes. Peter released him but kept his weapon at the ready.

“If I see you again, you’re dead,” Peter said.

The man shot Peter a look of pure hatred before getting into his car. It seemed he was not going to risk a fight with Peter.

Metal grated against metal as the man’s car backed away from the wreck. Peter stood with his arms crossed, watching until the man had disappeared down the road into the darkness of the night. Then he went over to Ashe and put his arms around her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

Ashe nodded. “What was that about?”

“Some vampire who apparently had a vendetta against Mark. He saw the car and thought we’d have some idea of where the owner was. I think he intended to kill Mark. Too bad Landon’s clan had already beaten him to it.”

Ashe saw regret in Peter’s eyes.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said suddenly, his face returning to its usual calm. “We can still get a few hours of sleep before dawn.”

“What about the car?” Ashe asked, looking at the cracked taillights and damaged windshield. There was also a long scar across the right side where the paint had been scraped off. The passenger side door was badly dented as well.

Peter shrugged. “Word will spread about Mark’s death. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about anyone else coming after us because of the car.”

Though that wasn’t what Ashe had meant by the question, she was comforted by Peter’s answer. Even if it had been a misunderstanding that had caused the altercation, she couldn’t shake the feeling of fear she had felt when the man had looked at her. In his eyes had been the burning hunger she knew all too well. Only Peter’s presence had saved her from a terrible fate.

The car creaked as Peter guided it back onto the road. They would have to stop somewhere tomorrow to get it repaired. Ashe knew that Peter would not be happy to be stuck in one place for more than a few hours, but Ashe herself was grateful for the break. Though they had only been on the road for a short time, she was tired of the constant moving. She already longed for a place to call home.

Ashe’s ribs ached as she stood by the motel bed. Peter eased her down and helped peel off her sweater. There was a raised red line across her side that was starting to purple.

“Take a deep breath,” Peter instructed her, pressing his fingers softly against the bruise. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Ashe did as she was told and felt no more discomfort than she had before. “I think I’m okay,” she replied.

“Take another breath, just to be sure,” Peter said, his hand moving further up towards the line of her bra.

Ashe took another breath. This one fluttered, though not from pain. Ashe wondered if Peter could feel the temperature rising in her body. His fingers circled around back and slid up under her bra strap. Though Ashe could not see it, the bruise must have extended that far. The intimacy of his touch incited a thrill in her that shook her to her toes. She longed to feel closer to Peter in a more physical way, but he always withdrew before things got too intimate. Maybe he didn’t want to pressure her into anything she wasn’t ready for.

“About what happened tonight...” Ashe started. She hoped Peter would acknowledge that the threat he had imagined was not real. Yes, they had been followed, but not by Landon’s clan. It had merely been a mistake, a misunderstanding. Maybe if Peter could relax a little, he might be more receptive to the signals Ashe was sending, the heat in her body and the fluttery way her breath escaped her lips.

“I know. You're going to tell me that I shouldn’t have worried so much,” Peter said. His fingers continued to explore her skin, tenderly testing for injury in places Ashe knew she had none. “It’s just, I’ve put you in so much danger and it would kill me if anything happened to you because of me. Maybe Landon’s clan isn’t a threat right now, but sooner or later it will be. Or maybe there will be another threat, something even worse. The only way to be sure no one can find us is to keep on our guard and keep moving.”

Ashe understood Peter’s feeling. After Landon, Penelope, and even Professor Sharp, had proven dangerous it only made sense that Peter would fear for Ashe in such a way. Still, she couldn’t live her whole life on the run just waiting for something terrible to happen.

She said, “But we’re running from a threat we don’t even know exists. Do you think my parents, or your sisters, are still on the road? They’ve probably already found new homes, new lives. We haven’t heard anything from your parents either. If the clans in Europe had found about Landon’s death your parents would have contacted us. Tonight, was a fluke. You have to believe that. Not everyone’s out to get us.”

“But they’re not the ones everyone’s after,” Peter said. The finality of his tone gave Ashe no room to argue. His fingers left Ashe’s skin, leaving a sense of longing in the places they had touched. He turned away from her and reclined back on the bed. “You should get some sleep,” he said.

She carefully lay down beside him, her body pressing against his.

Peter stared up at the ceiling, his mind starting on another one of its journeys away from her. Ashe sighed and clicked off the bedside lamp. Though she could feel him by her side, she felt alone. But she knew he was thinking over her words and she hoped that he would find sense in them.

“I love you, you know,” Peter whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead.

It was the last thing Ashe remembered before falling asleep.

A dark pallor hung over the streets as a spring storm amassed overhead, but the darkness did nothing to detract from the serene beauty of the town. Ashe could tell that this town was different from the others. Peter drove slowly, his eyes watching carefully for any signs of trouble. There had been none since the encounter with the vampire, but it didn't hurt to be too careful. Soon they would have to stop for gas, and to see to the repair of the car. The bare boughs of the trees lining the street looked fragmented through the cracked windshield as Ashe stared up at them. They reminded her of old illustrations in a version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow that she had read for one of Professor Sharp’s classes back when she was a student of his. The pang of nostalgia that accompanied the recollection made Ashe’s breath catch in her throat. She looked away from the trees, focusing instead on the buildings passing by.

Ashe couldn’t remember just how many towns they had gone through in their slow, zigzagging journey north. They only ever stopped for a day or two in one place, just long enough to sleep and to find Peter some food. Ashe herself could survive entirely on truck stop fare, but Peter was not so lucky. She wondered how her parents were doing, and if they had found a place to settle yet. She had not mustered up the courage to call, worried that hearing her mother’s voice would make her all the more homesick. Peter hadn’t put words to his own unease, if he had any, but she could feel it coming off of him like an aura sometimes. It made him quiet and sullen, thoughts churning in his head that Ashe would never know.

The car passed a rather large brick building with a clock set into its face. It looked almost like an old schoolhouse, except that it wasn't nearly well enough maintained to possibly house children. A flag hung above its main double doors and its lawn was ringed by ancient trees only just coming into their spring buds. Something about the place drew Ashe to it. She wished she could stop for a photograph or a quick sketch to remember it later.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Peter asked, nodding his head towards an old movie theater they were just passing on the left side. The marquee had no movie titles up and there were boards in the windows.

“I don’t think it’s open,” Ashe replied as it passed out of view. They could have communicated without words, but talking out loud required less effort. They also wanted to preserve the intimacy of their telepathic connection by not using it for mundane purposes.

Peter shrugged. “Too bad. You don’t see theaters like that every day. When do you think it was built? The thirties, forties?”

“You’re the expert on old things,” Ashe replied with a smile. “You tell me.”

“I’ll ask at the gas station,” Peter said pulling into one a little ways up the street.

Though not much more than scrap metal in appearance, Mark’s car was still chugging along despite the damage it had suffered in the crash. It seemed the man had taken good care of the places that mattered. Ashe got out of the car and stretched as Peter filled up the tank. She couldn’t see the brick building from where she was, but its image lingered in her mind. It could have been a government building or an old historical site. If they stopped here for a day or two for repairs, she might be able to convince Peter to indulge her in a little sightseeing.

She turned away from the road and walked towards the gas station. The door opened with that familiar clatter of bells that all small-town gas stations seemed to have. There was an elderly man working the register who smiled at Ashe in greeting. She smiled back and approached the counter where there was a rack of tourist pamphlets. Ashe started leafing through them, curious about the brick building she had seen.

“New to town, or passing by?” the man asked.

For some reason the question gave Ashe pause. “Passing by,” she finally said.

“Most people are,” the man reflected. “This town is too quiet for most folks. You’d think that would be a good thing, but I suppose not. The excitement of the big city must get into people’s blood, make them crave it like I crave my smokes.” The old man smiled in a modest way that made Ashe take a liking to him almost immediately.

“I wouldn’t mind some quiet, actually,” Ashe replied.

The conversation faded into a natural silence as Ashe continued to leaf through pamphlets. She found one containing coupons for fried chicken and another for an apple farm a few miles outside of town, but no mention of the building that had caught her attention.

She asked the gas station attendant, “I noticed a brick building while we were driving into town from the south. It’s got a clock on it and huge trees in front.”

“Ah,” the man said with a nod, “that’s the old library. It might be the oldest building in the town still standing. That, and the theater just down the street. But the theater’s been closed for years. Restoration’s in progress, only there’s not enough people to get the job done. It might be that I die long before I get to see another movie there.”

Library, Ashe noted with interest as the man began to reminisce about the town’s old days. One memory seemed to lead to another and Ashe had to politely interrupt the man to ask him if there was an auto repair shop in town.

“Ayuh,” he nodded. “Just down the street there. Closed on weekends, but it’s the only place we got.”

It was Friday, and with the state the car was in Ashe doubted it could all be repaired in an afternoon. She could see Peter outside looking restless as he leaned against the hood of the car and watched the road. She knew he was eager to get going, but the car needed to be fixed and Ashe needed a rest.

Ashe paid for the gas and went back outside. Peter wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her below the ear. “Ready to go when you are,” he said.

Ashe leaned against him, comforted in his arms. “I was thinking we could get the car fixed up first. The man in the gas station said there’s a shop just down the street.”

“It’s barely noon,” Peter replied. “We can still get a couple hundred miles in before the day ends.”

“How far north do you plan to go?”

Peter frowned.

Ashe disentangled herself from his embrace. “Eventually we’ll have to find a place to stop, even if it’s only for a short time.”

“We’ll stop when we find somewhere safe,” Peter said.

Ashe knew that Peter was only being cautious because he loved her, but she couldn’t live on the road forever. Even with Landon dead, Peter was still afraid that something terrible would happen to Ashe if they didn't stop running. They still didn’t know if Landon’s clan, the Alilovics, knew of Landon’s death or the deaths of the others. They were running from a danger they couldn’t be sure existed.

“I was thinking that maybe it’s time to stop running,” Ashe said recalling what the elderly gas station attendant had said. The theater was looking for people to help work on the restoration. Peter was more than qualified, having the physical strength of a man three times his size and the inability to grow fatigued. The theater could be up and running in mere weeks with Peter’s help.

His face took on an apologetic frown that Ashe knew meant no.

Please, she thought. No one knows us here. It’s safe. We can start to build our life together. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

After not speaking to each other in this manner in a while, the connection Ashe felt upon doing so made her flush.

Peter replied. We just got here. We don’t know anything about this place.

The weekend, that’s all I’m asking. It would be the longest we’ve ever stayed in one place. If you want to leave after that, I won’t say anything. I’m tired, Peter. I’m not used to this life.

Peter’s expression softened and he smiled. “Okay. We’ll stay.”

CHAPTER 2

The sound of saws greeted Peter as he approached the doors of the old movie theater. A man on a ladder outside shouted something down to him but he couldn't hear it over the buzz of machinery. The sound cut out and the man got down off the ladder. He was wearing thick denim overalls and heavy work gloves. Peter hadn’t expected to stay in town this long, but here he was looking for work. The town had a quiet charm about it that made Peter think that staying here a few months wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Ashe had sure taken a liking to the town in the three days he had promised her.

“You must be Peter. I’m Greg,” the man said in a thick southern drawl that seemed out of place this far north. He offered a hand and Peter accepted it without hesitation, glad that the man had not opted to remove his gloves before shaking. The thick fabric hid the coldness of Peter’s hand from being noticed.

“Good firm shake,” the man nodded. “You look well enough built. Do you have any experience with construction?”

“Some,” Peter replied. He didn’t add that he had built an entire house during the turn of the century, the one that the man in front of him had not been alive for, which still stood today.

The man grunted. “Good enough for me. You’ll find Jerry inside. He’ll answer any questions you have. You’ll start tomorrow, but feel free to look around as much as you’d like. The theater’s a beaut even in the state she’s in now.”

The man returned to his work, leaving Peter to his own devices. Peter gazed up at the fat incandescent light bulbs lining the outer edges of the marquee for a while before going inside. The wide atrium was little more than a hollow shell of its former self. The gold gilding on the doors leading into the main theater was mostly stripped off and the chandelier that hung in the center of the room lay in a tangled heap in one corner. The concession stand running along the right wall was mostly covered in white sheets that looked ghostly in the gloom. Still, Peter could imagine how beautiful it must have been in its heyday. It had been decades since he had been to a theater like this. It brought back old memories of nickel jukeboxes and air raid sirens, the war. Peter shook his head. Where he was, in the present, was all that mattered.

“Your eyes will get used to the dark,” came a voice from across the room.

Peter noticed a man had entered from a side door. Of course he could see everything clearly already despite the lack of light but could not say so to his new acquaintance.

“Jerry, right?” Peter called back.

The man approached him. He was middle-aged, but with deep laugh lines on his face that aged him prematurely. He had a wiry build and seemed quite at home in the dark, dusty theater.

“Glad you decided to help. Maybe we can finally get this place opened again after all,” Jerry said with a smile.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Peter replied.

“You staying in town long?” Jerry asked.

“At least until the theater’s finished,” Peter said. “I need the work,” he added.

Jerry scratched his chin. “Well it’s a good thing you’re from out of town. None of the locals want to have anything to do with the place. In a place as old as this, bad memories tend to stick along with the good ones. Seems all the people can recall are the bad ones, though. But if we can get the theater up and running again, I’m sure everyone will come to see this place as something good after all.”

Peter wanted to ask if something had happened there to cause the people of the town to want to avoid it, but a crash came from somewhere in the back disrupting their conversation.

Jerry made a face. “That’ll be the pulley system above the stage. Darned ropes keep slipping and knocking over paint cans. I’d better go back and see what the damage is this time.”

“There’s a stage?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” Jerry replied. “They used to do live plays here as well as movies. The screen comes down from the ceiling when a film’s on. That is, once we get the pulley system figured out.”

With that, Jerry left for the main theater and Peter followed. The rows of seats had been gutted, the hardwood floor below them looking raw and barren without them. Jerry had already made it onto the stage and was wrestling with a length of rope. There was no wonder the man was having so much trouble; the stage itself was littered with construction debris. Peter saw that there was a lot of cleaning up to do before they could even think of starting to rebuild. He wondered if Jerry and Greg had even done work like this before.

As Jerry banged around on the stage, Peter walked slowly around the outer edge of the room following the line of gilded trim that ran about waist high down the length of the wall. He wanted a sense for the space, its dimensions, and just how much work needed to be done. He stopped when he reached the raised wooden platform of the stage where a dark stain marred the flooring below. It appeared as though a can of wood finish had toppled over here, a deep red mahogany that looked like dried blood. Peter noticed several darker spots in the wood flooring in other places. Though he knew better than to think it was actual blood, it gave Peter a sense of foreboding. What exactly had happened here to cause the town to abandon the theater?

There was another crash from the stage and a curse, and Peter shouted up, “Do you need any help?”

“No, no,” Jerry yelled back from somewhere behind the curtain. “You don’t start work here ‘til tomorrow. There’s no need to rush.”

As Jerry clearly had his hands full in the main theater, Peter decided to go down one of the side hallways to continue his exploration. Maybe he could find some clues on his own. The hallway he chose happened to lead back into the staff rooms. The hallway was musty and narrow, most of the doors lining it locked tight.

A notice board of sorts had been tacked up beside the door to the manager’s office. Among outdated ticket stubs and an employee shift schedule which had yellowed to an alarming degree was a flyer for a town meeting to discuss a “plague of indecency” in the town and how to stop it. It sounded like something out of the 17th century when witch hunts had been in vogue, and it gave Peter an uncomfortable feeling. Though the flyer was thirty years old at least, Peter doubted that public opinion could change all that much in such a span of time. His new neighbors might be more religious than he felt comfortable with. He hoped he wouldn’t be expected to join them in church on Sundays.

At the bottom of the flyer was an insignia that Peter thought he had seen somewhere before. He might have come across it in one of Professor Sharp’s old books. It also could have simply been the town seal. He tore off the flyer and stuck it in his pocket. He would try to identify it when he had some time.

Peter continued down the hallway, trying the doors as he went. The previous owners must have locked up the place before abandoning it to rot from the inside. At the last door before the hallway dead-ended, he felt a sweeping sick feeling as he touched the doorknob. He let go of it in fright as his stomach swooped and his head went fuzzy. He never got sick, at least not in the conventional sense, unless he had drunk some bad blood or been in the presence of religious artifacts, certain herbs, or pure silver. He didn’t expect any of those things to show up in a place like this. He steeled himself and put his hand back on the doorknob, feeling once again that rushing sickness that both baffled and scared him. He forced himself to push through the feeling. This door, unlike the others, was not locked. Peter needed to know what was inside that was affecting him so badly.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Jerry’s voice echoed down the dark hallway and Peter let go of the doorknob as if it were burning hot. Immediately the sick feeling fled him as if it had never been there in the first place.

Jerry’s arms were stained a bright red and his coveralls were splattered with more of the same. It looked almost as though he had ripped a man apart with his bare hands, but the smell coming off him was of paint not blood. He must have had a hell of a time cleaning up the stage.

Jerry chuckled at the look of surprise on Peter’s face. “You can take it easy. I was only joking with you.”

“What’s in that room?” Peter asked.

Jerry gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Nothing the new guy in town need concern himself with.”

Peter wondered at the oddness of this statement as Jerry started guiding him back towards the main theater.

“Anyway, we won’t have you working back here. There’s a lot of live wires and rusted pipes, and until I can gauge your skill in those departments I think I’ll keep you out front where it’s safer.”

They had made it back out into the atrium where Greg was setting up scaffolding against one wall to work on the ceiling detail. Jerry shook Peter’s hand and Peter could feel the dried paint cracking against his palm.

“You’ll learn your place here,” Jerry said with a seriousness that Peter didn’t know that the man was capable of expressing. The handshake was hard, like that of a man trying to establish his dominance. Peter wasn’t sure why Jerry would be posturing like this all of a sudden.

Jerry let go and Peter’s hand came away with chips of red paint stuck to it. Immediately the man’s expression brightened again. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he said.

Peter tried to shake the odd feeling that clung to him as he left the theater. He had promised Ashe that they could stay here for a few months. She needed some stability in her life and their relationship needed it as well. He couldn’t uproot them again without proper cause to. It was probably nothing, but he had to find out exactly what had happened at the theater before he could feel comfortable staying here much longer.

Ashe sat at the front desk of the library feeling a little self-conscious in her new work clothes. She had on a crisp new blouse and smart black skirt and though her color palette was dark as usual, she couldn’t help feeling a bit confined by the new dress code. It was a small price to pay, however, for the privilege of working in such a beautiful building. It was as grand inside as it was outside, its architecture speaking volumes of the long history of the town. She had been lucky that there had been an opening for her here. The library didn't seem to have many patrons and there was little use for more than one desk clerk. The wide middle-aged woman who occupied the desk with Ashe had left her post around mid-morning and hadn’t been back since. It was nearly noon now.

The front doors opened with a bang and a young man strode into the atrium. He was well-built and his longish blond hair was pulled back from his face in a bun. He couldn't have been much older than Ashe and she took immediate note of the handsomeness in his features. She immediately looked away. Her heart already belonged to Peter.

The man took little notice of her as he went around the front desk and commandeered use of the unoccupied computer. His familiarity with the place suggested he was an employee, though his appearance did not seem in keeping with the library’s dress code. His denim shirt was far too casual and his boots looked like the kind meant for riding motorcycles with. He frowned and scratched his jaw, apparently not liking what the book database system was feeding back to him.

“Um, excuse me. Do you work here?” Ashe said.

The man’s blue eyes caught hers and he smiled. “I suppose I should be asking you the same question.”

“Sorry,” Ashe replied, suddenly feeling like she had been rude. “It’s just, it’s my first day here and I don’t know everyone yet. I’m Ashe.”

“Will,” the man replied extending a hand. Ashe shook it, fully conscious of how small her hand felt in his strong grip. He turned back to the computer screen. “If you’re wondering, I work in the town records in back. That’s why you wouldn’t have seen me.”

He seemed to have found what he was looking for and got up to leave. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the place?” he asked.

Ashe wasn’t sure if she was supposed to leave the front desk, especially since she was the only one working there. If the other woman had been there she might have been able to spare a few minutes. But her coworker was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry,” Will said noticing Ashe’s hesitation. “No one’ll even notice you’re gone.”

Ashe trusted that Will knew what he was talking about. “Okay,” she said brightly and followed him across the atrium to the main library room. She was glad for a break from the boredom of sitting at the front desk with nothing to do.

As he led her around they mostly chatted. He seemed to have little to say about the building itself.

“You’re not from here,” he said as they wandered through the nonfiction section.

“No, I’m not,” Ashe said, careful not to betray any details of her former life.

“Why’d you come here?”

“I needed a change,” Ashe replied.

“A breakup?” Will asked, starting on the stairs to the second floor.

Ashe shook her head. “I came here with my boyfriend,” she replied somewhat embarrassed. She wondered how Will would take the information.

They mounted the stairs without another word, and on the second-floor landing Will said, “Here’s the historical records and things of that nature. Microfiche, old magazines, books on local history. Town records are in a separate place. You need a key card to access those, and I wouldn’t go poking around back there unless you have business.”

The shift of tone was so abrupt that Ashe felt the need to explain her earlier comment. “When I said I had a boyfriend, I didn’t mean—”

Will laughed so suddenly that it startled Ashe. “I know,” he said still smiling. “I’m only messing with you. I didn’t mean to ask if you were single with that last question. It just sort of came out that way and I know it made things awkward.”

Ashe was relieved. She felt a smile pushing her dimples into view. “What was it you were saying about microfiche?”

Will chuckled and continued the tour, resuming their chatter that had nothing to do with the library they were walking through. Ashe learned that Will had grown up in the town and started working in the library straight out of high school. Though there were plenty of other jobs he could have taken, his work at the library kept him close to the memory of his father who had been a pillar of the community and whose name dotted the town records in reminder of his legacy. Ashe had been careful to skirt the answers she couldn’t give, and lie when there was no other choice. Though she didn’t think Will was a threat in any way, she had to be careful. She wanted to make this new life work out and couldn’t afford any mistakes.

They ended the tour back at the front desk, which was just as quiet as it had been when she had left it. The computer beside hers was still unoccupied.

“Any questions?” Will asked.

Ashe recalled something from Will’s tour that had stuck in her head. “Why are the town records under such security? I mean, key cards seem pretty modern for a building like this and I doubt there’s much to be gained from sneaking into a place like that.”

Will smiled awkwardly. “I was mostly making a joke, a lame one. Since I work back there, and you made it clear you have a boyfriend, I just wanted to put distance between—”

Ashe cut him off. Things were already uncomfortable enough on that subject without Will’s attempts at humor to smooth over his mistake. “You don’t have to explain. But do you really use a key card?”

Will flashed a thin piece of plastic from his breast pocket and winked. “You wouldn’t imagine the cloak and dagger stuff that goes on here.”

Ashe laughed. If there was one thing she felt she didn’t have to worry about it was anything of intrigue ever happening in the sleepy little town. The real threat was somewhere out there in the rest of the world, hopefully separated from her by the miles they had traveled and nowhere near finding her or Peter.

Before he left her, Will said, “By the way, that shade of blue really suits you.”

For the first time Ashe felt glad she had chosen to wear the midnight blue blouse she had on today. She smiled and thanked him for the compliment. Will seemed like a good person, one she could count on. She was also looking forward to introducing him to Peter as the two shared an interest in history and had the potential of becoming friends. Things were finally looking up, Ashe thought. Maybe they had found their home.

“We’ll have to get a deep freezer,” Peter said, descending into the basement of their rental house and gesturing to a corner. “We can put it here.”

The house itself was tiny, a one-story box containing little more than a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and small living room that doubled as the entryway. But it had a basement, which was paramount. Peter didn’t know how the weather was in the summer and he might have need of a cool, dark place to wait out the brightest hours of sunlight each day. At least he would be safe until the theater was completed, as the light there was entirely artificial and harmless to his vampire skin.

“I’m going to take up hunting again,” Peter explained. The freezer would allow Ashe to keep the meat from his kills so it wouldn’t go to waste. The blood he would keep for himself.

“You can’t be serious.” Ashe looked sick.

“Not humans,” Peter quickly clarified wondering if Ashe had actually thought he meant such a thing. “Wild game. The woods are full of them. Without your father to get human blood for me, I’ll need to rely on what I can get myself.”

As soon as he mentioned Ashe’s father, he felt a pang of homesickness pierce through him as though he was feeling Ashe’s own emotions. Disjoined images filled his head of Ashe’s childhood that she had never told him about before. He had the eerie feeling he was seeing Ashe’s pure thoughts and fought against the involuntary intrusion.

“I can get pheasants and rabbits, and even deer when they’re in season. It’s not ideal but I’ve managed on worse for longer.”

“But the last time you couldn’t get human blood you nearly went crazy,” Ashe said, the fear in her voice making Peter feel guilty.

He saw another flash of Ashe’s thoughts, this time an image of his teeth bearing down on her neck.

“We were living on frozen cow’s blood and there wasn’t nearly enough to go around. This time is different. It’s just me. I’ll have more than enough to stay in control. Besides, I would never hurt you. You know that.”

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, wishing Ashe could know what it felt like to live with his curse. She still thought of it in far too simplistic terms, its complexities lost to her and near impossible to explain in words alone. Sometimes this gap in understanding seemed too large to bridge and Peter wondered if their relationship would truly last. He had seen a hundred years of history before Ashe had even been born. He had fought in wars, in both the human and vampire realms, and had managed his thirst for blood through it all. Sure, there had been lapses of control and years which he wished he could wipe from his memory, but Ashe hadn’t been there then. She was what made all the difference. She had to believe that. Things were different now. He wasn’t a monster.

“I know,” Ashe replied. There was a calm coming off her like the soft glow of a lamp. The storm of whatever doubt she had been feeling had passed. But Peter did not feel reassured. In fact, he was disturbed that he could sense the changes in her emotion like this. He should not be able to pierce through the veil of her private thoughts.

They went back upstairs and Ashe busied herself with one of the moving boxes. She hummed a classic rock tune as she worked, her auburn hair falling down over her face as she bent down to take something from the box. She tucked the stray strands behind her ear with her delicate fingers, exposing once again the soft paleness of her cheek. Peter marveled at how exquisite she was and hungered for her in a way that had nothing to do with the blood in her veins. He wanted to feel her body against his and the rapture of physical bond that he had never shared with a living human before. He could have her now if he wanted. In fact, he could have had her the day he met her. The ability to influence human attraction was one of the abilities that came with Peter’s curse. It was useful for hunting and feeding, but Peter would never use it. He was afraid of the consequences, that he would lose sight of himself in the throes of passion and do something he regretted. He couldn’t run the risk of hurting Ashe like that.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or will you help me unpack?” Ashe said with an amused expression on her face.

Peter snapped out of his brooding. There was no reason to waste his thoughts on something that could never happen. He went over to help her.

“How’s the theater coming?” Ashe asked, handing Peter a stack of vinyl records. Peter wondered when she had found time to pack them, and if there was a record player in one of the boxes that went with them. No wonder the trunk had been so full.

“There’s a lot of damage,” Peter replied. “We had to rip out all of the hardwood flooring in the main theater and we’re still trying to figure out how to fix the wiring for the lights. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought the place had been vandalized on purpose. There are even holes in the walls that look like they were made by bullets.”

“Let me guess, you think the town’s dangerous and you want to leave,” Ashe said. Peter could tell she was only half-joking.

He shrugged noncommittally. He couldn’t deny that the thought crossed his mind. “I did find this, though,” he took out the flyer from where he had folded it into his wallet. He handed it to Ashe.

“Thinking of joining the church?” Ashe asked.

Peter shook his head. “Have you seen this insignia before?”

“No.” She handed it back.

“Maybe I’ll go by the library and do some research.”

Ashe’s expression brightened. “Will might know. I’ll ask him.”

Peter caught the brief image of a good-looking man in a denim shirt. Jealousy burned in him for no good reason. Though he felt bad doing it, he tried to probe further into Ashe’s thoughts for clues as to who this man was and how she might have felt about him. He hit an abrupt wall and stopped trying. Jealousy would only lead to conflict.

“Who’s Will?” Peter asked as he stuffed the flyer back into his wallet.

Ashe unearthed a record player from one of the boxes. “He works in the town records at the library. He’s about our age, I mean my age. I think you two would get along well. You should come by sometime and say hi.”

Peter thought it might not be such a bad idea, if not to make a new friend but to check out this guy and see if he was someone to be worried about. Though there was no reason for him to feel threatened by Will, he still needed to make sure that Ashe was his.

Ashe had her back against the wall as she looked around the room trying to decide where to put the record player in her hands. Peter could feel the burning inside of him, the desire for her that was too strong to ignore. He took the record player from her hands and set it aside, advancing on her like a wolf to its prey. Ashe watched him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. Peter could almost feel the frantic beat of her heart reverberate through the room.

Peter roughly kissed her, pushing her against the wall hard. She had nowhere to go but towards him, her body melting against his as their bodies entwined. He could sense the thrill that she felt knowing that they would soon be closer they ever had before. Peter could almost taste the desire on her tongue. Her thoughts and emotions flooded his brain, the love she felt for him and the electricity of her attraction. He could tell Ashe had been waiting so long for this moment. It was up to him to make the leap, though there was a chance he could hurt her in the fall. But at the moment none of this mattered. He only wanted Ashe.

Then an image swam up from the depths of Ashe’s consciousness, of a tall, blonde man smiling at her. Will.

Peter pushed away from Ashe in surprise. The image disappeared immediately leaving only blackness. He barely registered the look of hurt on her face as he turned away without explanation. Why would she think of him, a practical stranger, in such a moment like this? Ashe loved Peter, didn’t she? There were no words to describe the pain Peter had felt at seeing the man’s face in Ashe’s thoughts.

“Is something wrong?” Ashe asked as Peter tried to control the rage growing inside him.

“I made a mistake,” Peter replied.

Ashe put her hand on Peter’s back but he shrugged it off. “If you’re worried about hurting me...” she started.

Peter kept his back turned to her. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then let’s talk about it.”

Peter didn't think there was anything for them to talk about. He looked into Ashe’s thoughts and been surprised by what he had found there. If Ashe knew he could invade her privacy at will like that, it would no doubt tear an irreparable wound in their trust. It wasn’t so long ago that he had reassured her that he couldn’t read her thoughts. He hated that this was happening now, of all times. It was quite true that ignorance was bliss.

“I’m hungry. I’m going out,” Peter said pocketing his keys. He left the house abruptly and headed straight for the woods. He would hunt for a few hours and come back with a clear head. In the state he was in now, his words would only lead to fighting.

The ground was soft from spring rains and the trees were showing the first green of the year. The weather was still overcast enough for Peter to feel safe going out during the day. Summer would not be so carefree. He wondered if he and Ashe would still be here in the summer, or if the past would have caught up to them by then and they would be on the run. Or worse, dead.

Peter clenched his fists. It did no good to entertain such black thoughts. He turned his attention on his surroundings and soon honed in on a rabbit trail off to his left. A rabbit would be a good challenge for him after a long time away from hunting in the wild. The fresh blood would do him good.

He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his mind still worked over what had happened at the house. Peter had no real reason to feel the jealousy that he did. The human brain was not a perfect machine. Thoughts wandered. Peter knew that Ashe loved him, but being in love didn’t mean that one didn’t have eyes. Peter could admit that Will was good looking and it would have been impossible for Ashe not to notice this fact. It could have been a fluke that she had thought about Will at the moment she had. Even as Peter told himself this, he felt the jealousy bubbling back up.

What he should have been worried about was the sudden ability to read Ashe’s thoughts and emotions, not just the messages that she projected to him willingly. His telepathic ability should not have been developing so rapidly. He would have to keep an eye on anything else out of the ordinary. If things got bad enough, he would have to call someone with more knowledge of such things that could help him. It would be a risk to reach out to other vampires, as any contact could be picked up by those trying to find him. But if he had to, he would do it. Peter couldn’t let himself become a risk to Ashe.

There was a crackle of branches in the brush ahead. Peter stilled. The scent of warm animal blood wafted towards him on the breeze. He waited for the creature to bolt but it didn’t. It didn’t seem to know that it was being stalked. Peter crept soundlessly forward and stopped a short distance away. A small brown wood hare poked its head out from the bushes, its nose twitching below two glossy black eyes. It seemed to regard Peter with curiosity and he could sense no fear coming from it. The hare hopped a little further out towards him and stopped at a clump of maple seedlings that had sprouted up out of the forest floor. It nibbled at the soft green leaves unaware of the danger only feet away.

For a short time, Peter just watched the hare. He wanted to give it time to enjoy the last moments of its life. Those maple leaves would be the last thing it ever tasted. Peter had never been given a last meal. He had always needed blood ever since he first emerged into the world over a hundred years ago. He didn’t know what it was like to eat real food, to enjoy a variety of tastes and textures. He almost envied the hare.

Peter decided that he had given the animal enough time. He sprang forward with superhuman speed and caught the hare around the scruff of the neck. It let out a high-pitched squeaking scream but Peter soon silenced it. He was sorry to kill such an innocent creature, but that was part of nature. He was the predator and the hare was the unfortunate prey. At least he had killed it before it could feel any pain. He wasn’t cruel like so many others of his kind.

The animal was still warm as he sunk his teeth into its flesh. Blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled down his chin. The taste was not satisfying, but his body responded instantly to the fresh blood. When had finished feeding, he wiped his mouth clean and started back for the house. He carried the hare with him.

CHAPTER 3

After weeks of catching snippets of Ashe’s thoughts and emotions, Peter knew he needed outside help. The breach of trust was straining his and Ashe’s relationship. As Peter worked through the morning he contemplated who he could trust with such information. He decided on someone untouched by vampire politics, a neutral source of knowledge who had helped him out in the past. The first person who came to mind was Winnie. She wouldn’t tell anyone she had been in contact with Peter or knew where he was. Even if he reached out to her his location would be safe. Besides, Winnie had met Ashe and knew that whatever Peter did, he did for her.

Things were a bit complicated with Winnie, however, and Peter couldn’t count on her one hundred percent. As a sentinel, she held no stakes in petty blood feuds and was only interested in keeping tabs on the vampires and making sure they did nothing to put the humans at odds with them. In short, sentinels’ most fundamental job was to prevent all-out war between vampires and humans. Winnie had only helped Peter in the past because Landon’s clan had been doing things to bring attention to themselves. This time, the fight was between vampire clans. Winnie had no obligation to help either side. Even if she knew that Landon’s family were closing in on Peter’s position she would do nothing to warn them. She would only help Peter out with his telepathy issue and provide any information on that subject that he required. Outside of that, he was on his own.

At lunch, he ducked into the back hallway and called Winnie on his cell phone. He couldn’t risk being overheard by either Jerry or Greg.

She picked up after far too many rings, but Peter felt immediately better upon hearing the old woman’s familiar voice.

“Didn’t think you’d miss me so soon,” she said. Peter could hear the pleased smile in her voice. He imagined her in that dusty old shop of hers among cobwebs and rusty antiques.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied jokingly. “By the way, how’s my mirror doing?”

“Still hasn’t sold. I’m starting to think I should have asked for cash for those earrings instead.”

Peter recalled the ruby earrings he had given Ashe as a present last Christmas. He had traded an antique mirror for them, or at least for the favor of tracking them down. The earrings were well-known heirlooms of the oldest matriarch of Peter’s vampire clan, and though they belonged to his family they had been missing for quite some time until he had enlisted Winnie’s help in finding them. It was a shame Ashe couldn’t wear them now, but they couldn’t afford to advertise their affiliation with his clan. There was no telling who could be watching them.

“But I’m guessing an old mirror isn’t why you called,” Winnie prompted.

“No,” Peter replied. “I need to ask you about vampiric abilities. Specifically telepathic communication.”

Winnie sighed. “It’s a complicated subject, but first tell me what got you asking about it.”

Peter paced idly up and down the hallway as he explained the situation. He told Winnie of the way he and Ashe had communicated during the blizzard by using no more than thought alone. He also told her of the more recent development of his ability to read Ashe’s thoughts and emotions even when she wasn’t actively projecting them.

“And this hasn’t happened with anyone else?” Winnie asked when he had finished.

“Only Ashe,” Peter replied.

There was silence on the other end. Peter could hear soft tapping like a pen against paper. Winnie must have been thinking. Finally she said, “I wouldn’t be so worried about the speed of your ability’s progression if I were you. Every once in a while, there’s a rare vampire that has special knack for the power they possess. You might just be a quick learner. Though powers progressing at this sort of speed tend to zap a vampire’s energy, making them ill. You might want to try feeding a bit more than you’re used to. Stave off those pesky hunger pangs before they start causing trouble.”

This wasn’t what Peter wanted to hear. If his ability to read Ashe’s thoughts had been brought on by something external, there might have been a way to reverse it. However, if the ability was something he naturally possessed there would be no way to rid himself of it. He may be aware of Ashe’s thoughts and feelings forever. “Is there any way to stop it?” Peter asked.

Winnie replied, “The power’s under your control. It’s up to you to stop it. It might be hard at first but eventually you’ll get the knack. In the meantime, I suggest telling Ashe about it. As a woman who’s lived for centuries and had my fair share of romantic attachments back in the day, the one thing I do know is that communication and honesty are vital. If you’re struggling with something, let her share the burden. If she truly loves you she’ll be glad that you asked.”

Peter was reluctant to tell Ashe about the new aspects of his ability, but he also was aware of the wisdom in Winnie’s words. He decided he would tell Ashe everything tonight after work. She deserved to know the truth, and to share what he was going through. He would also start to work on controlling it for her sake as much as his own.

“It’s a good thing I called you,” Peter said.

As he moved to hang up, Winnie asked, “Where are you?”

Her question gave him pause.

Winnie seemed to notice, and added, “I like to keep tabs on my people, that’s all.”

Peter relented. “It’s a small town called Morris. The population’s probably a few thousand people at most. It’s quiet and Ashe likes it here. But I don’t plan on staying here forever.”

“Morris,” Winnie repeated. “Haven’t heard of it.”

“I’d be surprised if you had.”

Winnie said nothing further on the subject. They said their goodbyes and Peter hung up.

Peter found himself standing at the door of the room he had encountered during his first visit to the theater. He hadn’t been back since that day, far too busy with construction in the main theater to even think of setting foot in the back rooms. Perhaps it was simply the memory of his last encounter with that door, but Peter could almost feel a harmful aura radiating out from the dark wood. He extended his hand slowly towards the doorknob, the sick feeling growing as his fingers neared the metal. At the last second he drew them back, cursing himself for being so silly. There was no monster behind that door. He turned away from the door and left the hallway. He would see what was in that room another day. There were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

Peter came home from work with flowers tied up in a delicate white ribbon. They were wildflowers picked from the park on his way home. Ashe loved the irregular shapes and bursting colors of the blossoms. No two flowers were exactly alike. They smelled like the woods, a wild and entrancing smell that reminded Ashe of fairy tales from her childhood. Flowers from a shop never appealed to Ashe, but these ones were just perfect. Though Ashe had been feeling under the weather on and off for the past couple of weeks, the sight of the blossoms made her feel much better. 

“What’s the occasion?” Ashe asked taking the flowers from Peter’s outstretched hand.

Peter rarely gave her flowers so this was a pleasant surprise. Her thoughts still lingered on the day he had kissed her so passionately in the living room. She had really thought that was going to be her first time. Peter’s touch had been so insistent, so aggressive in a way it had never been before. Ashe been ready for the next step in their relationship, but Peter had pulled away without explanation. He had made no attempt to explain himself since then.

Peter looked nervous. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Then tell me,” Ashe said, the flowers suddenly feeling heavy in her hands. Was he about to break up with her? If so, then why the flowers?

“I’m not going to break up with you,” Peter replied.

“Then what is it?” Ashe asked with unease. It was as if Peter could hear her thoughts.

“I can,” he said.

Ashe was confused. “You can what?”

“I can hear your thoughts.”

It took a moment for Ashe to fit the pieces together. It couldn’t be true. Peter had assured her that was not how his ability worked. Ashe dropped the flowers and they tumbled to the floor forgotten.

“You told me you couldn’t,” Ashe accused. How long had he kept this hidden from her?

Peter made a move towards her but Ashe backed away. “I couldn’t before,” he said. “Not until a few weeks ago. I should have told you then, but I was stupid and selfish. I thought it would go away on its own, but it hasn’t.”

They could only talk to each other, Ashe told herself, not steal things from one another’s minds. Peter had been present in her private thoughts and feelings without her knowledge for weeks. In theory, it had not seemed like such a bad thing, but in reality it was terrifying. Ashe felt violated.

“You’re reading my thoughts right now, aren’t you?” she asked.

Peter hung his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t control it yet, but I’m trying. All I can do for now is let you know when I’m doing it. It’s not fair, but it’s the best I can do.” He genuinely looked ashamed. Ashe could only imagine how hard it was on him to possess this power that, by its nature, broke the foundation of trust between them. She would have to take it on faith that he was being honest with her.

Ashe asked, “Is it just me, or is it others too?”

If Peter could read the thoughts of those around them it could keep them safe from Landon’s clan and others who would do them harm.

“No,” Peter shook his head. “It’s only you.”

He knelt down to pick up the dropped flowers and held them out to her. “You have to give me some time to work things out.”

For the first time since Peter had told her about his mind-reading, Ashe found the courage to fully meet his gaze. What she saw there was fear and guilt, and she could tell that this was as hard for him as it was for her. She reached the flowers.

“We’ll get through this together,” she said, though she still felt uneasy. She had to believe that he was trying his best.

He gave her a tender kiss, their hands still clasped together around the bouquet. Ashe let her love for him well up from the depths of her being and fill her body. She hoped that he could feel it and was comforted by its strength. They would both need the strength of love to get through this together.

Ashe was in the back of the library searching for a match to the insignia Peter had found on the flyer in the theater. It was more of an idle curiosity than anything else. Peter had told her some tragedy had occurred at the theater decades ago that had caused its closure and subsequent abandonment. She had tried asking the people of the town but no one seemed willing to talk about it, not even Will who was usually quite talkative on any subject regarding the town. It turned out that his family, the Morrises, were the ones who had founded the town that took their name. Will seemed to know everything about the town, except for the meaning of the insignia.

Ashe’s arms ached as she took down books from the higher shelves. She wondered if she was coming down with the flu. Lately she had been tired all the time, and the stress headaches she had associated with college life had come back with a vengeance. She told herself she would sleep it off on the weekend. For now she had work to do.

She was deep in the stacks when a voice called her name. Will was coming towards her from the door leading to the town archives. Ashe looked up and smiled. “You aren’t coming over to let me take a crack at the town archives, are you?” she said.

Will laughed. “Not a chance. I don’t want to lose my job. If you need any information you can make a formal request like everyone else.”

Ashe pouted exaggeratedly. “You’re no fun.”

“Chin up,” Will said, brushing her chin with his finger. Ashe smiled. It was easy being around Will. He was human, simple. He said what he thought and never hid anything from her. Best of all, he couldn’t read her thoughts. He reminded her of the old Peter, the laid-back, confident man she had first fallen in love with. Though she still loved Peter more than anything, sometimes she wanted to escape from the vampire world back into the world of the living. Will afforded that escape, if nothing else.

Will crossed his thick arms across his chest and leaned back against the bookshelf. “There’s a town meeting of sorts tonight after work and I’d like you to come along. You’ve been here for a while and it’s about time to involve you in some of the town’s activities.”

“Sounds boring,” Ashe said, though in truth she wasn’t feeling up to attending the meeting. She wanted to stay in bed with the curtains drawn, not socialize with members of the town. Her headache was getting worse.

“I’ll be there,” Will replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll pass.”

Will’s smile faded and was replaced by an intense look that made Ashe’s heart beat faster. She had seen that look before in Peter on the day he had pinned her against the living room wall. She couldn’t understand what had brought on the sudden change.

“You know, the people here really care about you,” he said. “I think it will do you good to come to the meeting. There’s things about this town I want to be able to share with you, and this meeting’s a start. You’ll come to find out that this place is a lot more special than you might think.”

Ashe had to admit that Will’s words had sparked her curiosity. What could possibly be so interesting about a town meeting? If her condition didn't get any worse in the next twenty-four hours she would consider it. For whatever reason, Will seemed to really want her there. His eyes held hers intently.

“I’ll think about it,” Ashe replied.

There was a pause, and then Will said, “You’re really beautiful, you know.”

The comment took Ashe by utter surprise. She felt her cheeks flush. She should have known from his expression that something was up. She hoped he didn’t mean to try and make their friendship more than it was.

Will suddenly leaned down to kiss her. Ashe was too shocked to react. His lips brushed her cheek as she turned away. Her breath heaved in her chest as she tried to process what had just happened.

“I know. You have a boyfriend,” Will said. His voice was quiet.

Ashe didn’t know what to say.

“You love him. That’s good.”

The look in Will’s eyes she had noticed before had gone leaving the Will she was used to seeing. Ashe couldn’t stand the awkward position Will had put her in, and she hated him for thinking he could kiss her like that. Especially after she had made it clear that her heart belonged to Peter.

“You’re my friend,” Ashe said turning back to face him. “I thought you understood that.”

Will looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He turned and walked away down the row of bookshelves as Ashe tried hard to understand what had come over Will all of a sudden.

Will was warm and fun to talk to, and always greeted Ashe with a smile, but Ashe hadn’t expected him to feel so strongly about her in the few weeks she had known him. The kiss had been without warning too, like he had been possessed by something outside of himself. Ashe couldn’t shake the unexplainable feeling that Will was being manipulated in some way. The Will she knew would never have tried something like that.

Ashe thought with dread about what Peter would think. He had been trying to control his mind-reading, but there was no guarantee that he was making any progress. If he saw what had happened, he wouldn’t understand. Ashe feared Peter’s reaction if he found out Will had tried to kiss her. She would have to avoid thinking about it around him. It was the only thing she could do.

As Ashe made her way towards the back of the library, not wanting to run into Will again on his way out, she noticed that the door to the town archive room stood ajar. Will must have forgotten to close it all the way when he had come to talk to her. Now was her chance to get into the town archives and maybe dig something up about the theater, the insignia, and any other questions she might have about the town. Ashe looked over her shoulder and, seeing no sign of Will, slipped into the archive room and closed the door behind her.

Immediately she noticed a difference between the archive room and the rest of the library. The air was almost too still, as if the place had not been visited by a living human in years. There was no dust to be seen but the room itself was dark and poorly maintained. Ashe couldn’t understand how Will could stand to work in such an environment.

Not knowing how the place was organized, Ashe started at random on the bookshelf nearest the door. It seemed to hold birth and death records, the most recent where she was standing and going back through the years along the wall away from her. If a tragedy had struck the town, the death records might reflect it. Ashe didn’t know the exact year that the theater had closed, though what she had heard around town placed its closure about twenty years prior. Will would have been a small child then and not likely to remember much about the incident itself. Ashe pulled out a thick stack of files from the years she had estimated the theater’s closure to fall within and got to work. She was lucky the town had few residents. It made her work considerably easier.

After a few minutes, Ashe found what she was looking for. There was a group of entries all dated the same day that indicated the causes of death to be a fire in the old theater. That was strange, Ashe thought, as Peter hadn’t mentioned any fire damage and the theater did not show any outward signs of such damage either. Ashe noticed that one of the victims bore the same last name as Will. The man was thirty-five. Will’s father, perhaps. But if there was no fire, then how did these people really die? There must have been a reason why the town felt a need to lie about cause of death.

Ashe replaced the files and moved to a different shelf containing blueprints and plans for public works. She wouldn’t find anything of use there. She moved to the next one and the next, but nothing seemed remotely useful. She started to pull out documents at random and scanning them, frustrated that she couldn’t find what she was looking for. Will could be back any minute. She had to get out of there fast.

In the back corner of the archives the shelves ended in a small alcove. There was a small desk here and a leather book bag lying at its side. The desk had a lived-in feel to it that contrasted with the rest of the room. It must have been where Will did most of his work. Ashe went over the shelves making up the alcove. At first, she couldn't believe what she saw. They filled with personal journals and records, first-hand accounts of the history of the town dating back to when the town was first founded. Each one was written in a different hand. Reading through them, Ashe felt as thought the ghosts of the town were speaking to her all at once. She understood why Will liked his work and wished she had more time with the records. She quickly located one of the diaries corresponding with the year on the death certificates she had found and flipped through it.

The letters were brutish and the words coarse. Clearly a man had written this entry, one not used to expressing himself in writing. He wrote of a plague tearing through the youth, one that made them act immorally and threatened to bring the town to ruin. According to the man, the young people stayed up all night and slept through the day. Their complexions became waxen and they took part in satanic rituals. They killed wild animals and left their bloodless bodies to rot in the forest. Ashe felt sick, immediately recognizing the signs of vampirism. She tore another diary from the shelf, then another and another. Ashe’s dread grew as the story unfolded before her eyes, told in the words of the people of the town.

From what Ashe could gather, a vampire clan had established itself in the town of Morris, at first only content to feed on its citizens but then later turning some of the youth into members of its ranks. As concern grew, a council was formed which bore the insignia Peter had found on the flyer in the theater. For a while they deliberated on what to do before finally reaching the decision to fight the vampires and save their town. A trap was set at the old theater, an attempt to destroy all of the vampires at once. The plan succeeded, but with the loss of many of the town’s citizens who had shown up to fight that day. None of the vampires survived.

Ashe closed the diary in her hands feeling numb. No wonder they had gone through such pains to cover up the truth. Vampires didn’t exist, at least not to most people. A town couldn’t attribute a theater’s closure and the deaths of its citizens to a plague of vampirism without raising a few eyebrows. Morris was a small, quiet town. They no doubt wanted to keep it that way.

The town wasn’t safe for Ashe or Peter, that much was certain. It didn’t matter if the vampires had been bad or that the people of the town had only been protecting their home. She and Peter would have to leave. They would have to go on the road again and find someplace new.

Ashe shoved the diary back onto the shelf and left the archive room wishing she had never gone there in the first place. Even if no one knew that Peter was a vampire, Ashe couldn’t live in the town any longer knowing what she did.

The library was deathly quiet, the atrium too. Will was still missing which Ashe was thankful for. She couldn’t face him, not now. His father had been one of the men who had fought, and died, with vampire blood on his hands.

Ashe left the library without care that her shift was not over yet. The buildings that had once seemed beautiful were now menacing, their shadows bearing down on Ashe as she hurried towards the theater. She had to warn Peter about the town’s history as soon as possible. She didn’t know if the council still operated, but it wasn’t a chance she was willing to take. Morris was no longer her home.

Peter was back at the door. The thought of what lay behind it had been nagging him and making it hard to focus on his work. He grabbed hold of the doorknob, bracing himself for the ill feeling that had gripped him the first time he had made contact with the door. He felt faint and uneasy but he didn't give in this time. When he wrenched the door open, the feeling hit him full-blast and he reeled back from the open doorway. The stench of death was strong, and whatever was inside had the power to repel vampires. Peter felt an unfamiliar twinge of fear.

The air that had been trapped in the room dissipated and Peter found himself able to approach the doorway without as much trouble as he had had the first time. The room was rather large but entirely unfurnished. A window on the opposite wall let in a hazy shaft of light that filled the space with its weak warmth. A dried bouquet of mayflowers was hung above the door, but it no longer held its potency and crumbled under Peter’s touch. He stepped inside.

Something terrible had happened in here. There were scratch marks along the floor and deep gouges in the wood paneling of the walls. Peter approached one of the bundles of cloth lying on the floor and pulled away the fabric to reveal a pile of bones. The sharp fangs in the skull told Peter who the bones had belonged to. They were vampires, all of them. There must have been around twenty of them in total. Some had hawthorn stakes lodged in their dusty ribcages, but others did not. The ones without must have been trapped in the room and starved. The light coming in the window was not nearly strong enough to harm Peter, but it would be deadly to a vampire weakened by starvation. He could imagine the desperation of the vampires who had died in here, surrounded by their dead friends and clawing to get out before the sun rose again. The oldest among them would have died first and the youngest last. Peter shivered. Whoever had closed them in here must have done so with pure hatred in their heart.

Peter became aware of the sound of footsteps in the hallway. They were approaching quickly and there was no time for Peter to leave the room without being seen. Though he had never been told explicitly that this area was off-limits to him, Jerry’s insistence on keeping him busy in the main theater gave him the impression that Jerry would not be happy to find Peter back here. The footsteps were nearly at the door. He would soon find out just how much trouble he was in.

“Peter?” The soft female voice made Peter feel instantly relieved. Ashe was standing in the doorway, her auburn hair glowing like fire in the soft light cast by the window.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked. It couldn’t already be evening. He didn’t think he had lost track of that much time wandering around back there.

Ashe shook her head dismissively. “Work isn’t important. I have to tell you what I found out about the theater.”

Peter felt the same. He had to tell Ashe what this place was.

She caught sight of one of the stacks of bones. “What is that?”

“Bones,” Peter replied. “Vampire bones. Let’s get out of here first and I’ll explain back at the house.”

There was no protest from Ashe, who seemed fully aware of the danger of the situation. He tried to remain casual as he led her out into the atrium and past Jerry who was carrying in something large and flat and covered by a sheet.

“Quitting time already?” Jerry asked pausing to greet them.

Peter gave his best apologetic smile. “Boss said I could duck out a little early today. I’ll make up the time on Monday.”

Jerry nodded. “Don’t want to keep your girl waiting. I get that.”

He resumed carrying the large flat object, but nearly dropped it as his foot got caught in the sheet covering it. The sheet slipped off of it, revealing a shiny new mirror underneath. Peter caught a glimpse of Ashe’s reflection and the empty space where his own should have been before jumping in to help Jerry get the sheet back in place. He hoped the man hadn’t caught the lack of Peter’s reflection in the mirror.

Jerry said nothing, and went back to his work. Peter quickly led Ashe out of the theater.

“The mirror,” Ashe said once they were safely outside. “Do you think he saw?”

Peter shook his head. He could only hope it was the case that Jerry hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The sky outside was orange but growing darker with every minute. The air felt electric and smelled of oncoming rain. Peter held Ashe’s hand tightly as they walked briskly down the sidewalk towards their neighborhood. They said little to each other until they were inside the house. Peter knew that Ashe had something to tell him about the theater that might better explain what he had found in that back room. One thing he knew was that they couldn’t stay in town much longer. He hoped Ashe could accept that.

Ashe was the first to speak as she poured herself a glass of water at the kitchen counter.

“We can’t stay here any longer.”

Peter could see that her hand was shaking. She looked thin, ill, and Peter worried that she was sick. She put the glass to her lips but sputtered as soon as the water hit her tongue. She set the glass down.

“I got into the town records today, to see if I could find out anything about the insignia you showed me or the closure of the theater.”

“And you found something about vampires.”

Ashe smiled grimly. “About twenty years ago there was a battle inside the theater between the people of the town and a group of vampires. The vampires were slaughtered, though quite a few humans died with them.”

Peter knew how much Ashe had wanted a place to call home. It must have broken her heart to find out the truth about the town’s past. “That room you found me in was filled with bodies. There must have been twenty or more of them.”

“It’s not safe for you here,” Ashe said quietly. “I’m ready to leave as soon as you are. We can pack our things tonight.”

Peter could feel the tug of Ashe’s emotion but fought to keep it out of his head. It wasn’t working. It seemed the harder he fought, the stronger the telepathic bond became. He could feel Ashe’s longing to stay in the town despite her own words. Something was making her reluctant to go.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked. “I can sense you don’t want to go.”

Ashe sighed. “It’s not so much that I don’t want to leave Morris. I know that staying in town would be stupid. It’s just, I’m sad that it didn’t work out here. I would have liked to see the theater re-open and this house become a real home for the two of us.”

“We’ll find somewhere else,” Peter said. “Somewhere better.”

Ashe bit her lip. “I guess I should go pack.”

Peter could tell she was still conflicted about leaving, but she said nothing more as she turned towards the bedroom. Images of Ashe and Peter’s brief life here streamed through Peter’s head. Though he enjoyed the memories, Peter knew that he needed to tell Ashe that her thoughts were transmitting. He had promised her to do so whenever it occurred.

As he turned toward her, the image appeared in Peter’s head of a quiet, secluded corner of the library. Will was there looking at Ashe with intense hunger in his eyes. He seemed entranced, almost like a victim under a vampire’s spell. He told Ashe she was beautiful and bent down to kiss her.

Rage burned through Peter and the image was lost. He couldn’t believe that she had betrayed him like that. The bedroom door slammed shut and Ashe screamed. She stood staring at the closed bedroom door like she had seen a ghost.

“What did you just do?” Ashe asked. Fear gave her tone a wobbling quality that Peter didn’t like. He tried to control his anger but it burned even brighter.

“I didn’t do anything,” Peter shot back, though he was growing unsure. Why did Ashe look so frightened?

She backed away from the door like it was somehow dangerous. “The door just slammed and I didn’t do it. Peter, it must have been you.”

It didn’t make sense. Peter could read thoughts, not manipulate things around him. Vampires rarely manifested secondary psychic abilities, and never this quickly. Peter should not have been able to do it.

“Please say something,” Ashe pleaded. There were tears in her eyes.

Peter couldn’t explain what had just happened. He knew even less than Ashe did. All he knew was that he had seen Ashe kissing another man, and then the rage had come and the door had slammed.

He wanted to confront Ashe about Will, but the words fell dead in his mouth. He was scared she would tell him how she really felt, that she didn’t love him and was going to leave him for someone who she didn’t have to be scared of all the time. Will was human, like Ashe, and Peter never could be.

Peter had waited too long to reply. “I’m going out,” Ashe said, heading for the front door. Her cheeks were wet. Peter had an idea of where she was going but made no move to follow her.

Peter stared at the front door for some time after Ashe had left. His inability to control his own power worried him, and he remembered what Winnie had said to him on the phone. It could drain his energy, make him hungry and possibly dangerous. He had to be careful. He was losing himself, and even worse he was losing Ashe.

Peter focused his remaining mental energy on the front door. He willed it to open, though he hoped it would not. For a while there was no change. Peter then recalled the jealousy he had felt seeing Will with Ashe, that feeling like he had just been punched in the gut by a steel fist. He had never felt anything like it before, nothing even close. As the feeling rushed back, the doorknob wiggled then turned as the bolt slid out from the lock. The door creaked open.

CHAPTER 4

Ashe was still shaking as she got into the car. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the fear. Though she still felt ill and was likely running a fever, she couldn’t bear to be in the house right now. She was thirsty too, though when she had tried to drink her body wouldn’t let her. She had felt like her tongue was burning as the water touched it. She was going to the library, if for no other reason than to feel normal for a little while. That, and to say goodbye to Will. She didn’t want to leave him thinking that she hated him. After everything, he was still a friend.

She turned the ignition and checked her rearview mirror. Peter hadn’t followed her outside. It was all for the better. She didn’t want to confront Peter about the door slamming on its own while she was still so shaken up. She loved him and wanted to help him through whatever he was going through, but she didn’t know how. There was still so much about the vampire world she didn’t understand and it was becoming clear that Peter himself understood little of the changes his powers were going through. Even worse, she suspected that she knew the reason for Peter’s outburst. He had seen her memories, including the one that she had been recalling just moments before the door had slammed.

Thinking back on other occasions, it became clear that Peter’s odd behavior and sudden turns of mood had likely been due to his jealousy of Will. Just like how Peter felt powerless to control his telepathy, Ashe felt like her own thoughts were working against her. Her mind seemed to wander at the worst of times, picking up a random scramble of memories from the day and pushing them to the front of her brain without her consent. The image of Will’s face had flashed before her eyes on that day when she thought she and Peter would finally grow intimate. She hadn’t wanted it there, but it had come nonetheless. Peter had no doubt picked this up and been hurt. If only Ashe had known about his power then.

The car’s tires crunched against the cracked asphalt as Ashe pulled into the library parking lot. Most of the spaces were already filled, which was an odd sight for the usually lifeless building. It was then that Ashe remembered the town meeting that Will had invited her to. She didn’t know if she could face everyone now that she was aware of the town’s bloody past.

She was about to get back into her car when the old man from the gas station came out from the front doors of the library. He waved.

“First town meeting, I see,” he said.

She faked a smile and approached him. “Yeah, Will Morris invited me.”

“Well if you've got his approval, no complaint from me.”

The old man led her into the library through a side door that opened directly into a small classroom used for school trips and community events. The desks had been pushed to the walls and the chairs sat in a circle in the center of the room. Ashe recognized Peter’s coworkers from the theater among the group, as well as some people she seen around town but did not know by name. All together it was a fairly small group, even for a town the size of Morris. Will was there too, as he said he would be. His face looked drawn and his shoulders stooped.

A few curious glances flickered her way as she approached the ring of chairs.

“Ashe is joining us today,” the old man announced. “Will invited her.” The curious glances stopped.

Ashe took the only remaining empty seat, which happened to be next to Will.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” he said as she sat down.

“I almost didn’t,” Ashe replied. She could feel eyes on her and said no more. She hoped they could talk privately after the meeting.

Will stood from his chair and cleared his throat. “Now that everyone’s here, we can begin.” The group went quiet. “As you all know, tonight’s the anniversary of the night the old theater closed its doors for good twenty-two years ago. So many of our loved ones, my father included, lost their lives protecting our town that night. Though Jerry and Greg are working hard to rebuild the place and bring back some of those good memories that the theater kept for us, there is still a lot of healing that needs to be done.” He paused to give a solemn look. “Which is why I’ve set aside some time for us to talk about that night, and to give closure to those of us who need it.”

Ashe felt vaguely nervous knowing that she was about to hear more about the incident that had made Morris a place she was no longer welcome. It was one thing to read dusty old diary accounts in some back room of the town archives, but quite another to hear the words come to life through the very person who had experienced the event first-hand.

As Will sat down, he whispered to her, “Listen with an open mind. You might not believe what you hear tonight, but I assure you it’s all true.”

Ashe knew what Will was referring to, and needed no preface to the horrors she was about to hear. She debated briefly whether to use her illness as an excuse to leave, but the first story had already started.

“We were stupid kids, eighteen and just married. The stupidest you can get,” Jerry said, his hands still fidgeting in his lap. “But not stupid enough to believe the rumors going around, the ones about satanic rituals and new street drugs turning people into zombies. Of course, we had noticed some of our old friends acting distant but we just assumed it was because we’d gotten married and tended to do things as a couple rather than hang out with everyone as a group.

“Anyway, people started to go missing and eventually some people got wise to what was really going on. At first I didn’t believe it, but when my wife’s sister got turned we knew we had to do something. The town was readying for its attack and they needed volunteers. We were still just kids, but my wife was always a firecracker and she signed us up without any thought.”

Ashe thought she knew where his story was going, and could already feel the tug of pain in her heart. The fact that Jerry had come to the meeting alone was indication enough that his wife was no longer alive.

Jerry continued. “We were supposed to be outside, helping chain the doors shut and making sure none of the bloodsuckers got out. I only looked away for a second but it was enough. One of them had escaped out a window and was on Martha before any of us could do anything. I’ll never forget how black her blood looked or the sound of her sobs as I ran to save her.”

Jerry’s voice cracked, his eyes filling with tears. His shoulders slumped in his chair and he looked utterly empty, like the effort of telling his story had used up the last reserves of his being and he was now just a dry husk of a man. The woman sitting next to him patted his back in a gesture of consolation while waving her other hand to let someone else speak.

One by one, the people in the circle recounted their own stories of that terrible night. Some spoke at length while others gave little more than a few words of memorial to a lost friend or loved one. Ashe felt her heart breaking with every word, knowing that for every vampire like Peter there were a hundred more that were no better than monsters. She was truly lucky to have met him and to have his protection from the worst of his kind.

The last person to speak was Will. He turned to Ashe so that he was addressing her directly rather than the group as a whole.

“My dad died that night,” he said, his blue eyes searching her face for sympathy, perhaps, or disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Ashe muttered.

Will nodded in gratitude. He said, “I know it’s a lot to ask you, to believe what you’ve heard tonight. But Morris is different from other towns. We know of the dangers that lurk in the darkness, and more importantly we know how to fight them.”

His words sent daggers through Ashe. The night at the theater had not been the end of the town’s vampire hunting. They were still active.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” Ashe forced herself to reply calmly even though she wanted so badly to leave the meeting. She hoped it was over.

“Thank you,” Will said to her, and then to the whole group, “I believe we have something of immediate concern to discuss tonight.”

  There was a murmur through the crowd, but a sharp look from Will silenced them. “Is there something you want to say?” he asked Jerry, singling him out.

Jerry’s hands shifted nervously in his lap as he found himself put on the spot. “Are you sure it’s okay for her to be here?”

Will glanced at Ashe. “She’s part of the town. She heard our stories. She has a right to know.”

“But—” Jerry began.

Will clasped a hand on Ashe’s shoulder. “We’re meant to protect the members of this town, aren’t we? Though Ashe has only been here a short time, she deserves the same protection as any of us. Isn’t it better for her to know of the danger than to be left in the dark?”

Jerry muttered something incoherent, but made no further rebuttal. Ashe had almost hoped he would, so that she would have a good excuse to leave the meeting. A cold sweat had broken across her brow and goose bumps prickled her skin. She was sure she had the flu, and being here was doing her no good.

Ashe spoke up, “I can leave. It’s no problem.”

Will shook his head. “It’s important that you stay.”

“Let her leave,” Jerry grumbled.

Ashe rose from her chair. It was becoming clear that she was still an outsider, and while Will did not seem to see it as a problem the other members of the meeting did. She started, “I appreciate you inviting me here, but I’m not feeling well and—”

Will grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. “Peter’s a vampire.”

Ashe was stunned and stared blankly at Will. He let go of her arm.

“We only became sure of it today, but we’ve suspected for a while. I know this must be a shock to you.”

It wasn’t the fact that Peter was a vampire that had caught Ashe by surprise, but rather that the people of Morris had found his secret out so quickly. Had something given him away, or was Will simply singling him out because Ashe had rejected Will earlier? Ashe didn't want to believe that Will could be so cruel.

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Ashe asked.

Will said, “Our biggest concern is keeping you, and everyone else, safe from him. It’s only a matter of time before he reveals his true nature to you, and I worry that he intends to turn you into one of his kind. We need to stop the vampire plague now before it spreads like it did twenty years ago.”

Ashe could see the regret in Will’s eyes even before he replied, but his words still pierced through her heart like a lance. She looked around the room at the once-friendly faces now staring back at her with pity. They thought they were helping her, teaching her of the real dangers present in the world, but they were wrong.

“Peter’s different,” Ashe said. “He would never hurt any of you.” Her fever was making her vision blur, and her legs felt like jelly underneath her. She hoped she would still be able to drive herself home. She needed to warn Peter and leave town as soon as possible.

“How can you be so sure?” Will asked.

Peter was no monster. He was a good man. But the look in Will’s face told her that there would be no convincing him of this no matter hard she tried.

“I can’t,” Ashe lied, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “But I need a little time first. Time to say,” her voice cracked, “goodbye.”

Will nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. We’ll give you the weekend, but that’s all we can afford.”

Jerry spoke up, “But what if he decides to turn her before then?”

Will cast him a dark look. “We’re giving her the weekend, that’s final. You of all people should understand how difficult it is to say goodbye to the one you love. Ashe has been warned of the danger and we can trust she’ll be careful.”

Jerry looked at Will, then at Ashe, his expression troubled. He turned to the others in the group for backup, but their lack of support seemed to take all the fight out of him. The woman next to him who had comforted him earlier was now shaking her head as if to discourage him from even trying. Ashe could see the mix of pity, sadness, and fear the people of Morris felt for her. The fear was the strongest, and it was what troubled Ashe the most. She had learned enough about history to know that fear ruled reason.

“I think that’s all we’re going to discuss for tonight,” Will said. People got up from their chairs and milled about the room, seemingly hesitant to leave. A few headed in Jerry’s general direction and hovered there silently. Ashe suspected that they wanted to discuss matters themselves once Ashe was out of earshot. She knew it would be easier for them to make their decision on what to do without the human consequence of their actions staring them in the face.

Ashe headed for the door and Will followed. He called for her but she didn’t stop for him. She had wanted to say goodbye but she couldn’t now. Will mustn’t know that she and Peter planned to leave.

Will caught up with her at her car and put his hand on the door to stop her from getting in. It wasn’t a threatening gesture, but one of supplication. He wanted her to hear what he had to say.

“I wish all of this could have turned out differently,” Will said. “I really do.”

Ashe kept digging for her keys.

Will continued, “I’m not upset about what happened today, and I’m not going after Peter because of jealousy. The only reason I think we need to do something about him is because I don’t want to see you hurt. I care about you.”

How did Will expect things to turn out after all of this? Even if it went how Will planned, with the town taking down Peter and saving Ashe from the threat of vampirism, it wasn’t like Ashe was going leap right into his arms once Peter was out of the picture. Ashe felt some of her old self coming back to her, the girl who preferred to shut the world out rather than deal with all of the stupidity of other people. Will was just another person trying to get what they wanted with no regard to the feelings of others. He had tried to bait her with the heartbreaking stories about the night in the theater, but it wouldn’t work. Ashe too had lost her father when she was young, but it hadn’t turned her into a murderer. Will had no excuse.

“I liked you. I really did,” Ashe replied, leaning a little against the car for support. Sweat rolled in sheets down her back and she was starting to shiver. “You were a good friend when I didn’t know anyone here, and you welcomed me as part of this town. But you know I can’t stay, not after...”

Ashe choked on her words. Though she trusted that she and Peter would be long gone from Morris before the angry mob came for them, just imagining the alternative was almost too much.

Will hung his head. “You don't have to say anything. I understand.” Then, after a pause, “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye,” Ashe replied, getting into her car.

She had gotten her goodbye after all, she thought as she pulled blurrily out of the parking lot. She knew why those few words with Will had been so important to her. They had both suffered a loss early in life, and knew what it was like to feel abandoned without even a simple farewell. Though they had only known each other for a short time, Ashe felt a kinship with Will in the pain that lay in their pasts. She only wished she could have gotten to know each other better, and that Will’s attraction to her hadn’t gotten in the way. He could have been a good friend.

Peter’s hands shook as he dialed Winnie’s number. The jealousy he had previously felt was now a distant memory to the fear threatening to consume him. He had managed to open and close the door with his mind several more times, as well as rearrange items around the house. Though Winnie had reassured him that the acceleration of his abilities was nothing to be worried about, Peter knew that the manifestation of this new power was well beyond the scope of normal. Even for vampires.

A shattered glass lay in the sink, having slipped from his grip when he had been testing out the scope of his new power. Unlike the mind reading, his telekinesis was easier to manipulate. It was different, too, from his mental conversations with Ashe. With the telekinesis, he could almost feel the power pooling in his mind and reaching out to the objects around him. It was like a muscle he could flex at will. It was hard for him to put into coherent thought, but it seemed like his telepathy was more like an external force, something he had no agency over. Though he had only been aware of his telekinetic power for a few minutes, he already felt that it was much more a tangible part of him than the telepathy ever would be.

There was a click on the other end of the phone as Winnie answered, and Peter immediately started on his explanation of what had happened with Ashe and the argument, and the manifestation of his new power. Winnie apparently realized the gravity of the situation right away and did not attempt to interrupt him. Peter left out nothing except the nature of the specific memory that had sparked his sudden outburst. As upset as he was, he didn’t think Ashe would have appreciated his sharing of such a personal matter. Peter himself didn’t even know the truth behind what he had seen, and the more time passed the greater his doubt became. Peter hadn’t seen the kiss itself. He had only assumed there was one before the door had slammed and the memory had cut out. It was quite possible that Ashe had rejected Will’s advance. Not only possible, but almost certain. Peter knew the bond that he had with Ashe could not be broken so easily.

Peter waited for Winnie’s response.

The old woman sighed heavily. “I was hoping you wouldn’t call me with something like this. It’s apparently much worse than I thought.” She sounded regretful, with none of the usual playfulness in her tone.

“But you said the powers would drain me, make me hungrier. I feel fine apart from the new powers. Nothing has changed,” Peter said, more to reassure himself than anything else.

“Of course you’d feel fine,” Winnie replied. “It’s Ashe I’m worried about.”

Peter gulped. “Why Ashe?”

Winnie countered with another question. “Has Ashe been feeling sick lately? Maybe looking more tired than usual or acting strangely, out of character?”

Peter thought about the dark circles under Ashe’s eyes and the drawn look to her face that had concerned him recently. She seemed to have lost an unhealthy amount of weight in the span of days. He then remembered the way she had choked while trying to drink water, as if swallowing had hurt her throat. Peter had written it off as the onset of a flu, but Winnie’s concerned tone made him think it was something far worse. Peter relayed this to Winnie.

“It was my mistake,” Winnie said. “I never should have given you those earrings without knowing what they truly were.”

“The family heirlooms,” he said. “The ones I gave to Ashe for Christmas. But what do they have to do with Ashe being sick?”

“You knew what they meant when you gave them to her.”

They meant that Ashe was part of his clan. She was under their protection for as long as she lived. He thought that by giving Ashe the earrings he was keeping her safe, not endangering her as he apparently had.

Winnie replied, “By giving Ashe those earrings, you were bonding her to your family by more than just your word. What I didn’t know was that those earrings carry the very blood of your clan’s matriarch. They are, in essence, a vessel containing her power, a means to pass down her abilities to future generations in order to create a line of vampires stronger than any other. In this case, your matriarch’s ability to project thoughts and emotions at will.”

Peter listened uneasily as Winnie explained. “You’re telling me that Ashe is the one manifesting the powers?”

“The telepathy, yes,” Winnie replied. “I’m sure you’ve found that your efforts to stem the flow of thoughts coming from Ashe have been useless. That’s because Ashe is the one controlling the power. Just as you have found that you can control your telekinesis at will, Ashe has the ability to stop projecting her thoughts to you. She can’t control the power because she doesn’t know she has it. It’s also what’s making her sick.

“Had Ashe been a vampire herself, the earring’s power, the telepathy, would have been added to whatever power she already possessed and she would have become a quite powerful vampire indeed. However, Ashe is a human. She is not compatible with the vampire blood, but the vessel doesn’t know this. It is only doing what it’s meant to do. The earrings are essentially turning her into a vampire, though they alone can’t complete the transformation. Only the fresh blood of a vampire can do that. If things are left to progress as they are, I fear that Ashe will not last much longer.”

“But she stopped wearing the earrings months ago,” Peter said. He couldn't believe that a pair of old earrings was to blame for all of this, ones that he had given her himself.

Winnie sighed again. “The act of giving her the earrings was enough. By doing so, you made her the next in line to rule your clan. The magic concerning the line of succession is strong and not so easily broken. Even if you wanted to, you could not take it back.”

“What will happen to her?” Peter asked, cold fear filling his insides.

“The blood in her veins will slow, then stop,” Winnie replied in a quiet voice. “She will not be able to gain sustenance from regular food and drink, and blood will do nothing to but make her sick as she is not yet a proper vampire. She will enter a trapped state between life and undeath, where the only way out is to turn her or let her die.”

Peter couldn’t bear the thought of Ashe turning into a vampire, but even worse was the prospect of her dying. He had faced a similar situation before, and at the time his decision not to turn her had proven to be the correct one. But this time there was no other way out. This time things couldn’t be solved with blood transfusion and a few days’ bed rest. David wasn’t going to burst through the door and fix her this time. There was no other choice.

“It’s the only way.” Winnie sounded truly sorry.

“I understand,” Peter replied and hung up the phone.

Ashe barely survived the drive home, her vision swimming and her head feeling like it was going to burst in half. She was desperately thirsty, but knew in the back of her mind that anything she consumed would make her sick. She parked the car haphazardly in the driveway and stumbled up to the front door. Her sweaty hands slipped on the doorknob once, twice, and Ashe felt her consciousness flagging. She needed to get inside and warn Peter before she completely passed out. The doorknob slipped once more in her hands. She wasn’t going to make it.

Suddenly the door swung open and Peter was there helping her to the sofa in the living room. He was pushing something into her hands, a glass, then helping her lift it to her lips. The liquid was warm and salty, with a familiar taste to it that Ashe couldn't place. Her first impression was to spit it back out, but found that her body was craving whatever the liquid contained and she drank the whole glass. Only when she had finished did Ashe notice the tinge of red, and the iron smell of blood in the air. She dropped the glass and it rolled to a stop on the carpet. Ashe was shaking, terrified. Whose blood was it, and why had it tasted so good?

“There’s something wrong with me,” Ashe muttered. She felt a white-hot heat burning through her veins. Her senses were growing sharper, more attuned to everything around her. But the effect came in waves, like trying to catch a radio station while driving through the mountains. It was maddening.

“It’s okay,” Peter said, though his voice and expression did not convince Ashe. “I know why you’re sick, and I can make it all better. You just have to trust me.”

“No,” Ashe protested. “We don’t have time. Will knows about you. The town. They’re vampire hunters. They want to kill you.”

Peter seemed troubled, but he ignored her and pressed on. It was hard for Ashe to follow what he was saying, but caught something about earrings and the blood of Peter’s clan. Peter was trying to tell her something important. Ashe fought to understand, though she could tell her body was giving up. This was no flu she had. It was something far worse.

“I need to turn you,” Peter said suddenly.

Ashe thought she had misheard him. When she failed to reply, he repeated, “I need to turn you, to make you a vampire.”

“You can’t,” Ashe said. The words escaped her before she could take them back.

Peter’s green eyes wavered. Ashe had only seen such a look in Peter’s face once before, on the steps of the college cathedral when Ashe had professed her hatred for his kind. Peter probably thought that she was rejecting him, that deep down she still feared the vampire part of him and did not want to become like him even if it would save her life.

Peter ignored her protest. He took a knife from his pocket and flicked the blade open. “If you drink my blood,” he said, holding the knife to his wrist, “you will survive. It’s the only way. The blood I gave you earlier won’t sustain you forever. Your body is still human. If you don’t complete the transformation you’ll die.”

Animal blood, Ashe thought, recalling the taste of the liquid that had brought her back from the edge of unconsciousness. It had been meant to tide her over until Peter could turn her fully. Whether she liked it or not, her transformation had already started. She was no longer human and there was no way back to what she once was. Embracing this new part of her was the only way.

“I’m scared,” Ashe said. She didn’t know who, or what, she was anymore. She wanted to cry.

“It’s okay,” Peter repeated over and over. The calm in his voice lulled Ashe like a drug as he slid the blade against his pale skin, leaving a thin black line that quickly beaded with blood. The inky liquid spilled from his vein down his arm, pooling at his elbow before dripping onto the carpet below.

He held his arm out to her, offering her his blood. Ashe didn’t know if she could bring herself to do it, but Peter was already bringing his arm up to meet her lips.

“If you do this, we can be together forever. You won’t have to worry about growing old without me. We’ll watch the decades go by without the shadow of death looming over us. It’ll be like a fairy tale. Just you and me, and as much time in the world as we want.”

Ashe took the leap.

CHAPTER 5

Peter’s blood was cold as ice, and sweeter than anything Ashe had ever tasted. It filled her with his essence, his memories, and as she drank deeper she felt herself sinking into the depths of Peter’s very mind. She saw lace curtains hanging over the top of a bassinet, and the youthful face of Peter’s mother peering down at her. She saw the sunny days of Peter’s childhood dotted with the blood of the animals he had hunted so cruelly without knowing any better. She watched as Peter and his family left Europe for America, the age of vampires slowly drawing to a close. In the midst of all this, she also saw wars, death, and whole periods of human history go past as if in the blink of an eye. Carriages made way for automobiles and the skyline filled with the smokestacks of factories. The very pace of life seemed to quicken. The reel of Peter’s memories sped up too, with longer gaps and blank spaces as if the film had been damaged in the speed of its recording. Peter’s life became disjointed, conflicted, as he struggled with the morality of killing versus the nature of his condition. The one thing that remained constant was the good in his heart, and the desire to do right by humans as well as his own clan. There was a loneliness too that followed Peter like a cloud through the long span of his life.

When Ashe finally came into the picture, everything changed. The loneliness fled and every moment became precious. Even the bad memories, like killing Landon and casting out Penelope from his clan, held gravity in Peter’s mind. They had been acts done to protect Ashe, and so were to be cherished even if they hurt to remember.

Ashe became vaguely aware of a tugging on her shoulder and Peter calling her name. She released his arm from her grip and let his memories flow out of her mind. When they were gone, Ashe felt a coldness deep inside where they had been. She longed for them back, but knew she would never see them again.

Ashe watched with awe as the blood from Peter’s arm trickled to a stop. The skin was already stitching itself together as if it had never been marred. Inside she felt like her soul was stitching itself together as well, the broken human part of her making way for her new self. It was this new self that had brought her even closer to Peter and saved her from the edge of death.

“Ashe,” Peter called.

Ashe ran her tongue across her teeth. Her canines had formed into sharp points.

“Are you okay?”

She flexed the muscles in her arms. They felt taut like a spring, and incredibly powerful. Her vision too, seemed sharper than before even though the sun had set and the house was nearly dark.

Peter asked, “Are you still there?”

She wasn’t alive, but she definitely wasn’t dead. Her heart sat like a rock in her chest, unmoving, but her being was crackling with new energy. “I’m here,” Ashe replied.

Peter looked deeply into Ashe’s eyes and she recalled all she had seen of his past, the hurt, the loneliness, and was overcome with the desire to be close to him. She needed that physical connection that had been denied her for so long. She pressed her body against his, pulling his arms around her.

“I need to be with you,” she breathed, and let her desire take over.

It was like swimming, a little. Awkward at first until they got into the rhythm of it, and then it became like nothing Ashe had ever experienced before. Peter was gentle and caring as he knew it was her first time, and Ashe feared nothing as she lost herself to him. She could feel her vampire blood awakening even further as Peter held her close, the full potential of her abilities surging through her. She felt powerful, and though she let Peter take the lead she knew she was his physical match and that he could not hurt her through the act of their lovemaking. Even when his nibbles turned to bites and his breaths into growls, Ashe was not afraid. She relished the sensations, her closeness to Peter, and the feeling that nothing could take him away from her now. They were bonded to each other in blood and in body. Ashe couldn’t wish for anything more.

Ashe lay curled up in her usual sleeping position at Peter’s side, only this time there was no barrier between Peter and Ashe’s soft skin. All of this was as new to Peter as it was to Ashe. He knew little of love, only that the woman by his side meant more to him than anything else in this world. She was his, now and forever, and nothing could take her from him. Not even time. Now that Ashe was a vampire, Peter wouldn’t have to watch her grow old. He wouldn’t have to sit by as the years of Ashe’s life ticked away, Peter himself untouched by wrinkles and young as the day they had met. There was now little keeping each other from an eternity together. Once they left Morris, that was. Time may have been defeated, but vampire hunters still very much existed. Now that Ashe was a vampire, she too was vulnerable to their stakes and silver bullets.

Peter shifted slightly and Ashe woke. She looked much better than before, her strength returned tenfold by the transformation and subsequent sleep. However, her body was now cold against his, with none of the human warmth Peter had often marveled at before. Her chest did not rise and fall as it used to, and her heartbeat was silenced.

Peter couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss in the midst of his happiness. Part of what Peter had loved about Ashe had been her humanity. It had radiated out from her like a brilliant sun, bringing light and warmth into Peter’s life at a time when he had thought such things impossible. Now she was, like him, a shadow. She would have to start learning how to hide her true nature from those around her, always looking over her shoulder for those who might hurt her if they knew what she was. Peter knew he had changed in the time since they had met, becoming less of the carefree student he once was and darker, more serious. He hoped the same change would not affect Ashe. He had fought so hard for that first dimpled smile of hers back on campus so many ages ago and did not want to lose it again. Ashe had spent so much of her life closed from the world; she deserved to be free, to be happy.

“You awake?” Ashe asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Mhmm,” Peter replied. The room was dark but the moon shone brightly through the window, making Ashe’s light eyes glitter the surface of a pond. Peter gazed at her. She was beautiful, that much hadn’t changed.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Ashe smiled. Better than I ever have, she thought. Her words filled Peter’s mind like a sonic boom. He winced.

“Easy there,” he said. “You have to remember that you’re a lot stronger than before.”

How’s this?

Ashe’s words this time were like a whisper in his ear. Their intimacy tickled his brain and made him burn with fresh desire, his body responding in kind. He could have made love to Ashe right then but held himself back. There would be plenty of time to have their fill of one another once they were out of Morris. Still, it was hard for Peter to keep his hands off her.

Then something clicked.

“What you did just now, have you done it before?” Peter asked.

Ashe sat up. The bed sheet slipped but she caught before it had slipped below her breasts. Still modest after all they had done together, Peter thought with amusement.

She looked at him, confused. “We’ve always talked telepathically.”

“No,” Peter shook his head. “The, uh… Other thing. What you did just now with your mind to make me...” He glanced down with a bashful smile to where his arousal was slightly visible under the bed sheets.

“I don’t think so,” Ashe replied. But Peter knew that she wouldn’t have been aware she was doing it before, like her telepathy which they had both ascribed to Peter.

Peter said, “I know Will tried to kiss you. I saw it in your memories.”

Ashe looked embarrassed, and a little hurt. “Why bring it up now?” she asked.

Peter explained. “I don’t think it was his fault, or yours. Vampires have certain talents for attracting the opposite sex. You didn’t know you had these powers, and like the telepathy, you couldn't control it. I think Will was under your spell when he tried to kiss you.”

Ashe’s brow furrowed as she considered what Peter was telling her. “I’ll try to be more careful,” she finally said.

Peter shook his head. “It’s fine. The bigger problem is what’s going to happen if we don’t get out of this town soon.”

Ashe’s expression turned serious. “Will promised he would wait the weekend before coming after you, to give me time to say goodbye, but I’m not so sure about the others in the town. Your buddy Jerry seemed to be the most eager to stick a stake through your heart.”

“He must have seen my missing reflection in the mirror at the theater,” Peter said. He tried to think back to other occasions that might have given him away. He had shaken Jerry’s hand on that first day they had met. Had Jerry been wearing work gloves? Peter couldn’t remember. Even so, cold hands wouldn’t have been a dead giveaway. But the town’s people were trained hunters. The smallest signs wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.

“I think we should stick to our plan to leave tonight,” Ashe said.

Their bags were already packed and the car was full of gas. There was nothing keeping them in Morris any longer. Peter agreed and got up from the bed. He started pulling on his clothes that had been strewn about the room. Ashe did the same, turning demurely away as she slid on her underpants and fastened her bra. Peter snuck a glance or two her way, still feeling the effects of her spell on him.

Once they were dressed, they gathered their moving boxes by the door and prepared to leave the house they had briefly shared. Peter reminded him that this was only the start, and starts were often rocky. They would find a new place, a new home. Ashe would adjust to being a vampire in time and things would go back to relative normal.

“Ready to go?” he asked Ashe.

“Yeah,” she replied though her eyes were moist with tears.

Peter put his hand on the doorknob and opened it for the last time. But there was someone waiting for him on the other side.

It wasn’t Will as Ashe had feared, or Jerry, or any of the other people from the meeting that Ashe knew were coming for Peter sooner or later. The person standing on their front porch was barely even a person. His cheeks were sunken-in hollows and his dark hair hang limply over one eye, not quite hiding the fact that the socket was empty. He smiled and his teeth were like the teeth of a saw, all jagged edges and razor points. Ashe screamed.

Peter tried to slam the door but it didn’t budge. The figure in the doorway was laughing hideously and Ashe recognized him at once by the tone of malice in his amusement. It was Landon back from the dead. It wasn’t possible, but there he was.

Finally, the door slammed and Peter braced himself against it. Ashe could tell he was using all of his mental effort to keep the door closed.

“How is Landon here?” Ashe demanded. “I thought you killed him.”

The door rattled in its frame but held fast. “I did,” Peter replied grunting.

“Why don’t you come out?” Landon called through the door.

Ashe peeked out the front window. Landon was still standing on the doorstep with his arms folded across his chest and a bored look on his face. Behind him on the street were more shadows, though these looked even more misshapen than Landon himself. As Ashe’s vampire eyes adjusted to the dark she could make out their desiccated features. They were all women, and they were far older and more decrepit than any vampires she had seen before. She didn’t even know vampires could become like that. The state of them made her shiver.

“There’s a whole army of them,” Ashe said looking back to Peter.

His expression was dark. “We won’t be able to escape. They’ll probably have the house surrounded.”

“You know we can come in there and get you if we want to,” Landon shouted. He seemed to be losing his patience.

“What do we do?” Ashe asked. She was used to Peter having the answers, of knowing what to do when they were in danger. But she wasn’t his to protect anymore. She was a part of this now. She had her own power and her own responsibility. She was a vampire.

“Ten, nine...” Landon was counting. Ashe didn’t want to know what would happen when he got to zero. Peter grunted as the door shook behind him.

“Okay,” she said, taking another glance out the window. “I’m going to try something to get us out of this.”

She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the message she wanted to send. She had to make sure she could get it to him.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

Ashe replied, “I’m trying to get Will and the others to come here. They’re vampire hunters, right? They can help us fight Landon.”

“What happens when the fight’s over? Do you think they’ll just let us go?”

“We’ll deal with that afterwards,” Ashe said turning away from him. One problem at a time. Though she didn’t have any hope that the people of Morris would find it in their hearts to spare Peter or herself, she knew that without their help there was no way to defeat Landon. Two against a whole army were impossible odds, no matter how decrepit the army was.

Will, I need your help, Ashe tried to project. She had never used her telepathy on anyone besides Peter. It felt almost wrong to try and reach out to Will in this way, but there was no alternative. She didn’t have his personal number, and the library would be long abandoned by now. She couldn’t contact him any other way.

Will, I need your help! she repeated more desperately. Landon’s count was slowing as it approached zero, but he would be there soon enough. The door was shaking violently now and Ashe could hear it starting to crack.

Please help us!

A—Ashe?

She heard his voice stutter into her head. It was hard to hear over the banging of the door.

Will, it’s me. Can you hear me?

How are you talking to me?

There’s no time to explain. Vampires are at our house. They’re trying to get in. You have to get everyone over here to fight them.

Are you...?

A vampire, yes. I’m sorry. But you have to hurry. We don’t have much time.

Okay, we’ll be there. Hold on.

Ashe cut the connection, glad to be out of Will’s head. It felt intrusive to communicate with anyone besides Peter in that manner. She didn’t think she would be using it much in the future. But Will and the others were on their way, and that was what mattered. Peter and her would just have to manage on their own until then.

“One,” Landon shouted. The door split through, showering the floor with shards of wood. Ashe could see Landon peering in through the wide crack in the middle of the door. He smiled.

“Now can I come in?” he asked.

The fractured halves of the door fell inward and Ashe had to jump out of the way not to get hit. Landon strode in, his steps smooth though his body seemed to groan with each movement.

“Ashe, you’re looking as delicious as ever,” Landon sneered. “Though I have to say you smell different. More dead, perhaps. I guess Peter just couldn't keep his teeth off you after all.”

He advanced towards her and Peter held his arm out. “Step back,” he growled.

Landon trotted backwards, chuckling. “I see you haven’t changed.”

“But you have,” Peter replied. His face was drawn into a deadly scowl. He looked as if he could tear Landon apart with his bare hands.

“No thanks to you,” Landon said. “When you stuck that stake through me, I thought I was done for. Luckily, I had woken enough of my clan by then. They helped bring me back from the brink of a second death.”

Ashe recalled Peter telling her about the female members of Landon’s clan lying dormant in a sort of hibernation in the woods around his hideout. Landon had hoped to resurrect them with enough human blood and raise an army. It looked like he had done so, but only barely. He had also managed somehow to resurrect himself.

“You didn’t,” Peter said.

“I did,” Landon smiled. “I used the blood of my clan to reconstitute my body.”

“How many did you have to use?” Peter asked. He sounded worried, almost afraid. It made Ashe uneasy.

“Who’s to say,” Landon replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Peter took a step back. “You shouldn’t have done that. Consuming another vampire’s blood is dangerous. You’re unstable. All of their powers contained inside of you, you can’t control them for long.”

Landon’s smile flagged for a brief second. When it came back, it was much less convincing. Peter must have been telling the truth. Ashe wondered if what was happening to Landon was similar to Ashe’s transformation with the earrings. All of that power was sapping Landon’s strength.

Landon said, “I don’t need long. I don’t care about immortality. I only wanted to come back long enough to get rid of you and your pet human. It won’t be as much fun now that she’s not human anymore, but I’ll find a way to make her hurt just the same.”

Ashe could see something snap inside of Peter. He used his telekinesis to fling Landon backwards out onto the front porch. Landon landed with a sickening thud. Peter advanced on him.

“You’re not touching her,” he growled.

Landon tried to get up but he was held down by an invisible force. Peter loomed over him. Behind them, Landon’s army was inching closer though they seemed hesitant to make a move without the command of their leader.

A shot rang out, then another and the street was soon full of the sound of gunfire. Landon’s clan was dropping like flies, and it took a moment for Ashe to spot Will and a group of men barreling down the street in the back of a truck. The vampires seemed to catch sight of them at the same moment and they sprang towards them with an inhuman speed. Ashe reached out to Will one last time before the fighting broke out in earnest.

Thank you, she said.

Peter lost his grip on Landon as the first shots rang out across the street. Will must have come to help them after all. Peter felt his back slam against the outside wall of the house and stick there. He felt like he was being crushed as Landon’s new powers burst forth in full force. He knew that Landon was barely keeping a rein on his abilities and soon they would be completely out of his control. They would tear him apart from the inside out, as well as anyone in his vicinity. He might take out the whole town when his psychic bomb finally exploded.

Peter gritted his teeth against the force of Landon’s power. A bullet whizzed inches past Landon’s head and lodged into the wall beside Peter. Landon didn’t even look startled. He must have seen the bullet coming already. But there was a momentary lapse in his concentration which allowed Peter to gain the upper hand. He charged and Landon and they fought one another hand-to-hand. Landon seemed to be trying to regain his grip on his powers but Peter could sense them slipping. A tree in the yard cracked in half as Peter flung Landon by the collar out into the street. Peter could sense the energy in the air radiating off Landon like a nuclear bomb. One false move and the street would be obliterated along with everyone on it.

As Landon struggled to pick himself up, Peter chanced a glance around. The townspeople were fighting Landon’s clan fiercely, but he couldn’t tell who was winning.

“On your left!” Ashe shouted, and Peter spun around just in time to catch one of the vampires coming at him. He caught the woman by the shoulders and shoved her away from him. A bullet passed through her chest and she crumpled to the ground. Peter felt sick, knowing that same fate could be his at any moment. But the gunman was already off chasing another vampire and did not pay any attention to Peter.

Peter heard Ashe scream. He turned to see that Landon was holding her to him, threatening her with his teeth against her neck.

One move, Landon’s words filled Peter’s head, and I tear her to pieces.

Ashe whimpered as Landon leered over her. Peter could sense fragments of Landon’s thoughts like shrapnel flying through the air. He was losing control of his borrowed powers with every minute that passed.

Landon backed slowly down the street with Ashe held in front of him like a human shield. Peter wanted to save her but he knew Landon would make good on his promise if Peter so much as moved a muscle. Peter felt powerless as he watched Ashe grow farther away from him. There was nothing he could do. So he would have to do something desperate.

He waited until Landon and Ashe were close to one of the thick telephone poles across the street. Peter focused his mental energy, willing the pole to move. If he was lucky, incredibly lucky, the pole would hit Landon or at least startle him enough to let go of Ashe without hurting her. If not, it would get them both. The weight of the pole would pin Landon long enough for Peter to finish him before tending to Ashe. This kind of plan would not have been possible if Ashe had still been human. As a vampire, her life was much less fragile.

The telephone pole creaked and groaned, seeming to bend at an impossible angle before cracking into two. Wires snapped as the pole crashed down on top of Landon, pinning him to the concrete with the added weight of Peter’s telekinetic power holding it there. Ashe rolled out of the way just in time to miss the same fate. She landed hard but seemed relatively unhurt.

Landon scrabbled against the concrete trying in vain to free himself. The pole seemed to vibrate but it didn’t budge. Peter was too strong, and Landon’s powers were growing highly unstable. The very ground seemed to shake with psychic energy.

“Give up,” Peter yelled.

Landon screeched like a caught animal. He seemed to flicker for a second, then double, before resolving back into a solid form. The shaking in the ground got worse.

Peter gritted his teeth and the telephone pole sank a little lower. Ashe stood frozen watching the scene. She wanted to help Peter but feared getting any closer to Landon. She looked around but the others were too busy fighting Landon’s army. They couldn't help her.

Peter shouted at her, “Ashe, you have to leave!”

She could hear Landon’s voice in her head crying out in agony. Terrible images started flooding her head and she had to make a conscious effort to build a wall around her mind to block them.

“Ashe, just go!”

Ashe knew that Peter was sacrificing himself for her, but she couldn't bear to leave him. They would defeat Landon together or they would both die trying. An eternity without Peter by her side would be meaningless. It was all or nothing.

“Hold on,” she shouted back to Peter then ran to the truck. She flung open the door and reached across the driver’s seat to the cigarette lighter and pushed it inwards to start it heating up. While she waited for it to heat, she went to the back of the truck and hauled out the red gas can that was luckily half-full of the incendiary liquid. Then she ran back to where Landon was and started dousing him with gas.

“You don’t have to do this,” Peter said. “You should just go.”

There was an electric humming in the air, and cracks appeared in the asphalt below where Landon lay. Landon himself was babbling incoherently. He seemed to have lost his mind.

Ashe ran back to the truck to check the cigarette lighter. It had just finished heating as she was opening the door.

“Get back!” she yelled to Peter as she pulled the lighter from its socket.

Peter sprinted towards Ashe as she threw the lighter at Landon. It looked like it was going to land too far away, but it corrected itself mid-course no doubt guided by Peter’s telekinesis.

Peter made it to the safety of the car door just as the explosion sounded. He shielded Ashe with his body, bearing the brunt of the shockwave as the flame from the gasoline hit the fumes in the air and ignited. The truck rocked on its tires, then wobbled to a stop. Even with Peter’s cool arms around her, Ashe could feel the heat from the blazing fire that the explosion left in its wake. Ashe peeked carefully out from behind the truck’s door. There was little left of the telephone pole besides a charred black mass, and even less of Landon remaining. Peter helped Ashe to her feet and hugged her tight.

“It’s over,” he said, and Ashe hoped that this time it truly was.

CHAPTER 6

The street, which had until recently been a battleground, was now eerily silent except for the last embers of flame which were crackling along the ashen remains of the telephone pole. The bodies of Landon’s relatives lay motionless in the street, along with several members of the town who had come out with Will to help fight them. The remaining townspeople were regrouping slowly around the site of the explosion. Peter watched them with a wary eye, keeping Ashe hidden behind him. They had run out of bullets and most now carried improvised weapons they had picked up in the course of the fighting. Peter had no doubt they were planning to use those weapons on himself and Ashe.

A few of the townspeople had taken notice of Peter and were now coming his way. Peter knew the look on their faces, the fear and hatred that made them blind to the reality of what had just happened. Peter and Ashe had saved the town. If Landon hadn’t been stopped, he would have blown half the town of Morris into smithereens.

Peter tried to keep Ashe hidden as the hunters approached, but she stepped out from behind him and held on to his hand. She hadn’t left him when he was fighting Landon, and she wouldn’t leave him now. They were in this together until the end.

“It’s him,” Jerry said stopping short of the truck. He held a wooden stake in his hand whose tip was stained black. His hands were wet with the same color. Peter remembered the days he had spent working side-by-side with the man. It all seemed so long ago.

A woman Peter recognized as one of their neighbors waved towards Ashe. “You can come with us, sweetie. Don’t worry. We won’t let him hurt you.”

Ashe held more tightly to Peter’s hand, squeezing until he could feel the bones shift. He squeezed back reassuringly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ashe said. “And I won’t let you hurt him.” She pulled her lips back into a threatening grin. Her new vampire fangs shone white in the flickering firelight.

The woman gasped. “She’s one of them!”

Jerry took another step forward. “We’ll just have to kill you both, then.”

“No we don’t.” The blond man from Ashe’s memories appeared out of the crowd, his face streaked with soot and the gun in his hand bloody along the barrel. It was the first Peter had seen of Will since the battle’s start. He had kind eyes and a stoic expression, and Peter could see why Ashe had found a friend in him. If things had been different, maybe Peter could have too.

Will put a hand on Jerry’s shoulder forcing him back. Peter saw a black look cross Jerry’s face, but Will didn’t seem to notice. Will turned to face the group of hunters.

“They’re no danger to us. We should let them go.”

There were shouts of dissent. The hunters were too keyed up from the battle. They had lost friends, maybe even family in the fighting. They were not about to let two vampires walk free.

“Those things we fought tonight,” Will said, wiping blood from a gash on his lip earned during the fighting with the vampires, “are not the same as the two people who stand in front of you. We know Ashe, and Peter, and they’re good people. No one has gone missing since they moved here, and not one of us has been turned. This isn’t twenty years ago. Not all vampires are bad.”

Jerry didn’t seem convinced. He shoved Will to try and get past him. Will countered with a punch to the jaw that not only stopped Jerry but quieted most of the others as well.

He turned to Ashe. “Go, while you still have the chance.”

Ashe stood rigid. She seemed to still be in shock from the battle. “Come on,” Peter tugged at her arm. “He’s right. We have to go.”

Ashe let Peter lead her away from the truck, back towards their own house and the car still parked in the driveway. The battle was over, and their time in Morris was at a close. There was nothing to do but get in the car and drive far, far away.

They were back on the road, but this time there was a destination in mind. Shortly after leaving the house, Peter had called his parents. They had already made arrangements for Ashe and Peter to meet them in Europe, after finding out about Ashe’s transformation from Winnie and becoming concerned about the repercussions it would have with the rest of the clan. Ashe was glad to be leaving the country. She needed a change of scenery, a new life. She promised herself that this time things would be better. It couldn’t always be bad. Ashe wouldn’t let it.

Ashe watched the streets of Morris roll by for the last time. The theater was nearly finished, with its grand re-opening less than a month away. It was too bad Peter would not be able to see the result of all his hard work, though after finding out about the theater’s past it would have been impossible for him to enjoy being there anyway. A little while later they passed the library. The trees out front looked even more sinister in the gloom than they did during the day, but the building itself was beautiful as ever. The clock face on the building showed an early hour of the morning. Ashe felt weary but didn’t want to sleep. She needed to know the town of Morris was far behind her before she could close her eyes.

The night sky warmed as the stars gave way to the glow of dawn. The miles blurred together as they tended to do on long car trips, but still Ashe watched the scenery out her window. She wanted to keep Peter company as he drove. It didn’t matter that they were too tired to talk; just knowing that they were sharing the same view of the sun coming up through the fog on the horizon was enough. Once the fog cleared, they would have to change direction to be out of the direct path of sunlight, but for now they could enjoy the experience.

They had been driving for a few hours when they stopped at a small roadside gas station. It reminded Ashe of the one in Morris, where she had made her decision to stop their running and try and make a life for themselves. She had still been human then, and naive. Now she knew what the world was like for people like Peter. Now she was one of them. She would never make the same mistakes again.

As Peter washed the smashed bugs from the windshield, Ashe went inside to pay for gas and grab a snack. They hadn’t had time for breakfast and Ashe was starving. She bought a donut and a coffee and headed back to the car. Chances were; they wouldn’t stop again until evening. They had a plane to catch that night and too many miles in between. If only Peter’s parents had realized just how far they were from any international airports, Ashe thought, they wouldn’t have been in such a situation.

“What’s in the bag?” Peter asked as Ashe got into the car. She pulled out the donut, realizing she wasn’t feeling very hungry after all. She threw it back in the bag and took a sip of coffee instead.

Peter made a motion to stop her but he was too late. The liquid burned her tongue and made her eyes water. She felt sicker than she ever had before, her body rejecting the coffee as if it were poison. But it was poison, she thought. Anything but blood was now dangerous to her.

Peter rubbed her back as she choked out the remainder of the coffee. Ashe felt like crying but found she could not. Instead she felt only a deep ache in her chest and a cold that was entirely different from the chill of death that was always around her. Ashe told herself it was stupid to be so upset over a cup of coffee, but in truth it was much more than that. She would never enjoy real food again, nor the warmth of a sunny day or the fluttery feeling in her heart whenever Peter kissed her. Time would start to move at a strange pace as she got used to watching the world around her age without her. She was a vampire now and there was no going back, no second chances at a normal human life.

Peter put his arm around her. “I know it’s hard,” he said. “But you’ll get used to it. It’s not all bad, trust me.”

Ashe leaned into him. She wanted to believe him, but right now it was still too hard.

“Let me show you something,” he said. He took his arm from around her and turned the key in the ignition.

“Don’t we have a plane to catch?” Ashe asked.

“It’ll only take a minute,” Peter replied giving her no hint as to where they were headed. Ashe was left to wonder as left the gas station and turned in the opposite direction of where they were headed. There wasn’t much in the area except the gas station and the surrounding woods.

Peter pulled off the main road and onto a dirt path that led towards the woods. The trees soon surrounded the car they were driving and Ashe had the sneaking suspicion that Peter had no idea where he was going. Not long after, Peter stopped the car.

“We’re here,” he said.

There was nothing around them but the dirt road and the forest. Ashe didn’t know why he had chosen this place to stop over any others. Nevertheless, she got out of the car.

“What did you want to show me?” she asked.

Peter jogged around to her side of the car, the hint of a smile on his lips. She didn’t trust his expression.

“Tag, you’re it,” he said, slapping her lightly on the shoulder.

“Are you serious?” Ashe asked. Though she wasn’t clumsy by any means, she had never been much of an athlete. Besides, she hadn’t had the urge to play tag since she was in elementary school, and even then it had seemed a little too childish for her. Ashe had always preferred to play the piano or read to running around the neighborhood with kids who didn't know the difference between a dictionary and a thesaurus. Ashe had always felt out of place with people her age. It was no wonder she got along so well with Peter.

But Peter was looking at her right now with such expectation to indulge in his childish game of tag that she had no choice but to give in. “Fine,” she grumbled. “You’d better start running.”

Peter sprinted off through the trees and Ashe followed. Immediately she noticed a difference from before. Her movements were swift and sure, her muscles far stronger than even the most well-trained runner. It was more like gliding than running, and she had never felt anything like it. She realized at once why Peter had brought her out here. He wanted her to experience the full potential of her new powers. He wanted her to know that being a vampire wasn’t all bad.

But no matter how fast she ran, or how good it felt, Ashe could not catch up with Peter. She tried to reach out to him with her mind, to track his movements through what he was seeing. She caught fleeting glimpses of him through the trees but even those grew farther apart until she was entirely alone. It was clear that she still had a lot of learning to do before she could be a match for the likes of Peter.

Ashe reached out her mental net again, scanning the forest for Peter’s consciousness. She was slowly getting the hang of using her new powers, practicing whenever she could and mostly on Peter. She had learned not to try while he was driving, however, after a close encounter with a tree trunk caused by her trying to project images into his mind. The car had been spared, luckily, but Ashe promised after that not to exercise her abilities while Peter was in operation of any vehicles or in particular need of his mental faculties. This game of tag, however, was a different matter. She would use whatever advantage she had to catch him.

There was something alive, running fast ahead of her. It wasn’t Peter but it caught Ashe’s attention and she changed course to pursue it. It had a small, thudding heartbeat and its blood was pumping fast. Ashe could almost taste the fear coming off it in waves. It must have known a predator was on its tail.

Her fangs extended and her vision tunneled towards the rustling underbrush ahead of her. Ashe was spurred on by her hunger for fresh blood. Until now she had survived on the jars of blood Peter had packed with them before leaving Morris, but the jars had been on ice in a cooler in the back of the car and tasted of death. Ashe wanted live blood, and soon she would get it.

She pounced on her prey, catching it with her new lightning quick reflexes and sinking her fangs into its throat. The creatures struggled in her grip then was still. Sweet, warm blood welled up in Ashe’s mouth. It was a wild taste, like of the forest itself. She could barely believe how good it felt to finally, truly feed on a living animal. Ashe drank until the blood stopped flowing, and only then did she come back to her senses. When she did, she was aware of two things. One was the animal still gripped in her red-stained hands, a fluffy cottontail rabbit like one of those from a fairy tale but with its head at an unnatural angle and its glassy eyes staring unseeing up at her. The second thing she became aware of was the wolf.

It crouched between the trees, watching her with the rabbit. Ashe was not scared though. She could sense the understanding between them, two predators who knew well both the value of life and the necessity of killing. She tossed the dead rabbit towards the wolf.

“Go ahead,” she said.

The wolf eyed her for a while, its pointed ears twitching, then sauntered up to the rabbit and grasped it between its jaws. It turned around and disappeared back into the forest like a shadow. Ashe turned the other way. She still had to catch Peter.

Luckily he was not far, leaning back against a tree looking like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re slow,” he said before sprinting off. This time Ashe was close on his tail. The rabbit’s blood had invigorated her, making her even stronger than before.

She felt herself grinning as she caught up to Peter, and burst into laughter as she tagged him.

“Pretty good, isn’t it,” he said, starting to laugh himself.

Ashe had to agree.

“Better than gas station coffee?”

Ashe punched him. She couldn't believe he was already making jokes at her expense again. Peter stumbled back a few steps. “Ow, watch it. You’re a lot stronger than you were before. You could break an old man’s bones if you’re not careful.”

Ashe was glad to see some of the old Peter, and she felt some of her old self coming back as well. It felt good to laugh again.

“Ready to go back?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” Ashe said, even though she knew there was no going back. Not really. There was only forward.

Ashe’s parents were standing outside the airport, David looking as always like a man from another time period with his long coat and brimmed hat resting low across his brow. He was little more than a silhouette in the night against the bright lights streaming out of the airport’s large glass windows, but Ashe recognized him immediately. She beamed as she saw him, practically running up to meet them with little regard for the luggage she had left behind with Peter. Ashe’s mother pulled her into a fierce hug, her wild red hair getting into Ashe’s face and tickling her nose.

“Mom,” Ashe said, trying to get free of the woman’s embrace.

“You’re so cold,” her mother replied and started vigorously rubbing Ashe’s back in an attempt to warm her up. “You should have worn a coat.”

Ashe wrestled herself free and held her mother at arm’s length. “It’s just how I am now,” she replied a little awkwardly. Though her parents knew about what had happened in Morris and Peter’s decision to turn her in order to save her life, Ashe wasn’t sure that her mother had really accepted it yet. The reality of it would probably set in after a few days, the realization that Ashe was no longer human.

Ashe’s mother frowned at her, eyeing her up and down in that concerned way only parents are able to. She seemed to be looking for anything else worth worrying about. Maybe a missing limb or an incurable disease. Except, of course, the vampirism, Ashe thought with a small laugh. That was definitely concerning, and definitely incurable.

Peter caught up with the luggage and set it down at their feet. “Everyone here?” he asked, looking around for his family who were supposed to be meeting them as well.

“Vanessa and Agatha were around here somewhere,” David grumbled. “And your mother and father went to call a taxi.”

There was a loud familiar giggle from behind them and everyone turned. Vanessa and Agatha had their arms linked with a tall, handsome man in a pilot’s uniform who was no doubt delighted to have such two beautiful women fawning over him. His face was beet red and he looked about ready to topple over in joy.

“My daughters, you know better than that.” Peter’s father stepped out of the shadows like a wraith, the sternness of his expression making up quite well for the shortness of his stature. Ashe and the others could only watch the scene unfold, feeling glad the man’s fury was not directed towards any of them.

The young man in the pilot’s cap began to apologize profusely, his face turning an even more alarming shade of red. The two women reluctantly let go of their prey, pouting in a manner that better fit a child than a woman of two-hundred years. As soon as he was free, the young man shot away into the crowd with surprising speed. Ashe thought that was the best thing he could have done. Though small, Peter’s father Otto was no man to cross.

“What have I said about humans?” Otto was lecturing as he led his daughters back towards the group.

“Peter was dating Ashe when she was still human,” Vanessa protested. “You didn’t say anything then.”

Ashe couldn’t help but smile. Vanessa was never the most tactful woman, but she sure had a lot of spirit which Ashe could admire.

“That was different,” Otto snapped.

“I don’t see how it is,” Agatha chimed in.

Otto looked like he could have punched a hole through one of the large windows behind him, but he held his tongue. Ashe suspected that his daughters would get more of a lecture once they were safely back home. Wherever home was.

She didn’t have time to ask Peter because a car had rolled up and Peter was already loading their luggage into the back. Vanessa chatted loudly to Agatha as they piled into the back seat. “It’ll be easier once they get married. Mom and Dad will be so caught up with introducing Ashe to everyone that they’ll forget all about us. I’m so glad we’re back in Prague. Those American men just aren’t my type.”

“Married?” Ashe asked.

Vanessa was too busy talking to Agatha to hear her.

Ashe turned to Peter, who smiled back shyly. “It’s not really a marriage, since us vampires obviously aren’t religious. It’s more of a formality. Sign a couple of papers, get entered into the clan registry...”

Ashe couldn’t believe that Peter hadn’t told her they were getting married until now. Of course, she had assumed she would spend the rest of eternity with him, but she hadn’t really thought about it in formal terms. She was going to become an official part of his family, his clan. It was all too much to take in and she felt like crying.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the change in her.

She hugged him fiercely and gave him a kiss. “For a hundred-year-old, you’re pretty stupid,” she said. It was all she could manage through the rush of emotion.

“Then why was I assigned to be your tutor?” Peter replied.

Ashe laughed and got into the car with Peter close behind. He twined his fingers into hers, their hands resting together on the seat of the car. Ashe didn’t know what lay ahead, but she didn’t mind. She had Peter, and that was all that really mattered.

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Owned by The Vampire

Created in The Shadows of Heaven

Book 1

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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Chapter One

Isabel smoothed her hair back from her forehead, taking a deep breath as she glanced around the parking garage. Most of the people who were going out for a Friday night of fun had already managed to make their way to the clubs, and while the garage was two thirds full, it was shockingly silent. All of the drivers were either wandering Royale Street or in one of its clubs. She glanced in the flip-down mirror, smiling to make sure that her lipstick hadn’t ended up on her teeth. She turned her head slightly, one way and then the other, checking the contour work she had done; it still looked a little obvious in the stark light of her car, but Isabel knew that in the darker club ambience, it would make her face look slimmer and her cheekbones more prominent.

“Well, the dress looks nice anyway,” Isabel said, pressing her lips together and flipping the mirror back up.

She stepped out of her car, tottering slightly on the heels she had convinced herself to wear before locking the door on the old Camry. Isabel had timed her arrival in the downtown area carefully; it was to her benefit that most of the crowd visiting the bars and clubs had already started their revels. Isabel started towards the elevator, balancing her weight carefully on her new heels until her body fell into the right posture to walk in, running through her plan mentally. Most of the guys at her favorite club would be at least one drink in, probably closer to two or three; they would have been shot down by the hottest of women out partying. And the men who were far, far out of her league would have picked up their hookups for the night.

Isabel had never needed the insincere protests from her cadre of going-out girlfriends that “you’ve got such a pretty face” and “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful,” to know where she stood in the spectrum of available single ladies. Although she had been a waifish child, as soon as puberty had come along, Isabel had struggled with her weight. Although looking back at pictures of herself as a teen, she had to admit that her self-perception of herself as a homely blob had been far from the truth. Her breasts and hips had expanded again and again, while her upward growth had stalled out at 5’6”, and while she was curvy, Isabel knew that some of her curves were less than perfectly appealing to a certain subset of men.

It had been a hard-won victory when she had learned to dress for her body type, and found jeans that fit her hips without gaping at her waist. However, for going out, she preferred skirts or dresses. She believed she was a great hookup fodder; pretty enough, cute enough, sultry enough to appeal to men for the purposes of getting laid. Yet not ethereally lovely or perfect enough –thus far –to find the prince charming who would want a relationship that lasted more than a few months on the outside.

Isabel shook her thoughts away as she stepped out of the parking garage and onto the street, looking both ways to take in the general vibe. Judging by the throng of smokers outside, there seemed to be some kind of event at Rock-a-Billy’s, while O’Malley’s had its usual crowd of beer-and-whiskey rowdies at the picnic tables in front.

Isabel’s gaze landed on the entrance to Underground, her favorite Friday night haunt; the two door men were in position, with Mike at the door itself to check IDs and Clancy seated next to the cash register. There was no line, but movement inside the club told Isabel that there were still plenty of people, and there would probably be more in an hour or so. Underground didn’t really pick up until almost midnight.

She made her way across the street, and Mike spotted her first, smiling at her as she approached. “How much is cover?” Clancy shook his head in response to her question.

“You know better than that,” Mike said, ripping a paper wristband free of the sheet folded in his hand. “I wouldn’t even bother with the wristband, but there are a couple of new bartenders we just took on, and I don’t want you to deal with the hassle of explaining to them that you’re honorary staff.” Isabel grinned, giving Clancy a quick hug while holding out her wrist for Mike to wrap the band around. She had come to Underground almost every weekend for years; she was practically a fixture for Friday, and sometimes, Saturday nights.

“What’s the show tonight?” Normally, there was no cover charge at the door unless there was a special event.

“Burlesque,” Clancy told her. “They’re starting up in about an hour.” That would help – in its own way. Of course, the men would flirt with the performers, hopeful to get a half-naked woman to come home with them. But when the lingerie-clad beauties started to filter out of the club with their boyfriends, spouses, or the odd ‘Mr. Right for tonight,’ the attention would turn back to the regular denizens of the club, with an urgency that would make it easier for Isabel to “close the deal” as the guys said.

She hugged Mike and stepped into the dark entryway of the club, letting her eyes adjust. Pounding rhythms of a Strokes song filled her ears, and Isabel glanced in the direction of the DJ booth to confirm that DD was running that end of things. Which he was, bent over his MacBook to adjust the levels. As soon as she was confident of her ability to navigate the dance floor without either getting doused by some drunk’s PBR or stepping on someone else, Isabel made a beeline for the bar.

She saw one of the new bartenders, but waited for Jesse to be free, leaning against the acrylic bar top and looking around. Most of the people in the club were regulars; a few looked like fish out of water; people who had somehow managed to stray from their usual haunts along Royale Street.

“The usual?” Isabel nodded in response to Jesse’s question and took her debit card out of her wallet while he poured Jameson into a plastic cup full of ice, and added quick, short dashes of cola to it. He reached out blindly and grabbed an orange wedge from the caddy behind the bar, squeezing the juice into the cocktail and dropping the wedge in, before adding a straw and looking up to take Isabel’s card. She might have another two or three over the course of the night – four, if it looked likely that she was going to end up going home without a partner. She would be staying until closing time at 4 in the morning--but the first sip of bitter-caramel-orange sweetness was the best.

“No one makes it better,” Isabel told Jesse, giving him a thumbs up before he turned away to start her tab. Isabel reached into her purse and found her pack of cigarettes after a moment’s searching, and then her lighter after a little more effort. She had managed to cut back her bad habit to weekends only, and when she was out or hooking up with someone. One day, she was sure, she would end up kicking it entirely.

While she waited for the show to start, Isabel wandered around the club, making her way slowly towards the back, where the patio area was, and then back into the main dance floor, evaluating her options. There were a few guys she thought might be worth subtly trying to encourage; but she would have to wait and see if they managed to catch any of the performers’ interest. Isabel chatted with fellow regulars, greeted some of the lingerie-clad women who would grace the stage, and tried to keep herself optimistic for the hours to come. There would be no point in being out if she was going to give up on herself before the night was half over.

As she stood at the bar, Isabel felt someone staring at her. DD was on a run in the DJ booth: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Depeche Mode, The Cure, in rapid succession, making people feel faintly romantic. Isabel looked around, trying to find the source of the stare, when she spotted a man standing along one of the walls, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had met him before. It was hard to make out details in the darkness, and she had already finished her first drink, but he was gorgeous even from afar to be paying such serious attention to her. Especially when there were far more glamorous women in the crowd.

The man was tall, broad across the shoulders, dressed in a tailored suit which fit him so perfectly that Isabel wondered what he was doing in Underground at all. Why isn’t he over at Roxy’s, or Martini Blues? The man had blond hair, combed back from his face to just fall at his collar, and while Isabel couldn’t determine the exact color, his eyes were pale from where she stood. She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow, letting him know that she was aware of him staring at her. Instead of looking away, or even signaling her, the man smiled slightly, continuing to meet her gaze. He must just look like he’s looking at me, Isabel decided. She looked away, flustered, and took a sip of her second drink. Isabel reached for her pack of cigarettes, but her lighter had disappeared. Annoyance replaced her embarrassment as she decided, glumly, that someone had stolen it. “Can I get a packet of matches, Jesse?”

“No need,” someone said next to her. Isabel turned in the direction of the low, cool-toned voice. The first thing she saw was a flame, flickering at the top of a vintage lighter –Isabel thought it looked too classy to be a Zippo –extended just in range for her to light a cigarette. She quickly plucked one out of her pack and brought it to her lips, leaning towards the flame.

“Thank you,” she said when she pulled back, exhaling the first, quick throatful of smoke. The lid on the lighter snapped shut and the flame extinguished. Isabel glanced at the source of the convenient light and nearly dropped her cigarette in shock. What the hell is a guy like you doing in a place like this? The man who had offered her a light was every bit as gorgeous as the one she had caught staring from across the room, but he was quite different in appearance. He had long, slightly curling dark hair that stopped just above his shoulders, and big, deep eyes which Isabel thought were some shade of either hazel or brown. His features were sharply cut, his strong jawline softened by a dusting of dark stubble. Instead of a tailored suit, he wore jeans and a fitted black tee shirt. But just the sight of the man was enough to make Isabel’s throat dry, and enough to make her heart pound.

“My pleasure,” the man said, smiling slowly. There was something beautiful, and brightly warm about the sight of him. Isabel’s heart fluttered in her chest. Down girl! He’s probably here with a date. And if he’s not, he’ll leave with a date for the night who’s so far beyond a “10” that they knock the number scale out of the water! He’s probably just nice. But there was unmistakable warmth in the dark eyes looking down into hers, and something she couldn’t quite make out in the curve of his lips; a kind of promise that Isabel hadn’t seen before. “You can take it, if you want,” the man added, opening his hand and extending the lighter towards her.

“That looks like it probably costs my entire bar tab,” Isabel said with a laugh.

“I have a dozen of them,” the man told her with a shrug. “I have three on me tonight alone.”

“Collector?” Isabel smiled politely. That explains it, if he’s single: he’s some kind of nerd.

“I just enjoy beautiful things,” the man said, smiling at her again. “Take it, please.” Isabel hesitated a moment longer, but there was nothing in the man’s face that made her doubt his sincerity. She reached out and took the lighter. For a moment, she thought that the man’s skin felt strange – smoother than she would have expected, almost hot to the touch. But she dismissed it as her fingers closed around the cool metal of the lighter. “I’ll see you later, Isabel.”

“How do you know my name? And what’s yours?” Isabel frowned for a moment, wondering if she had – somehow – gained a reputation beyond the usual for an Underground regular.

“Lucky guess,” the man said. “I’m Oz.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I’m friends with one of the performers: Miss Kitty Galore. I need to run, but I will definitely find you later.” Isabel highly doubted that, but as the man walked away, she thought that if nothing else, her ego had been propped up by the strangely charming man.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Make sure you have your drinks in hand. The show is about to begin!” Isabel turned her attention towards the stage, pushing the two supernaturally gorgeous men out of her mind in her determination to enjoy the show. She told herself that there was no chance in hell that she would end up with either of them that night; she might as well forget they even existed.

Chapter Two

Isabel stumbled into her bathroom the next morning, groaning as she made a beeline for the shower. She turned the water on and waited for it to heat up, taking care of other physical needs first and wondering what she could have possibly done the night before to feel so utterly exhausted and sore. “Well,” she said to herself, sitting on the toilet seat lid and staring blankly at the water shooting down from the showerhead. “One thing I definitely know is that I got laid.” She shifted her hips and cringed, pain seething through her.

The possibility that she might have been drugged floated up into her mind, but Isabel dismissed it; it felt more like she had been spectacularly drunk, though she thought she had only had maybe four Jameson-and-Cokes over the course of the evening. “Okay,” Isabel said, rising to her feet and reaching a hand into the shower to test the water temperature. “First things first: what do I actually remember?”

She stepped into the hot water and closed her eyes, letting it pound her throbbing skull for a while until she was drenched from head to toe. Isabel started from the beginning of the evening – her arrival at Underground – and tried to work from there. She remembered one or two of the burlesque acts: there had been a debut performer, doing her strip tease to one of Isabel’s favorite songs, and a few others that were noteworthy, in a span of maybe ten acts total. “And then what happened?” Isabel turned her back to the showerhead and reached for her soap, racking her brain. The gorgeous man – the second one she had seen, with the dark hair – had approached her at some point. He had offered to buy her a drink, and she had accepted, though she had watched Jesse make it and had taken it directly from the bartender’s hands. She couldn’t have let the man bring it to her, reasoning as always that one couldn’t be too careful.

They had spent the rest of the time – that Underground was open – talking on the back patio, though Isabel couldn’t remember what they had specifically talked about. She had a mental image of the man attentively listening to her, nodding occasionally, and heard – in her mind – bits and pieces of things that she must have said: something about what she did for a living, writing ad copy for the agency. Something about the worst client she had ever had to deal with, and about petty office politics.

She could remember the dark-haired man, Oz, she recalled, finally pointing out to her that she seemed more drunk than she should be to drive home. He had offered to drive her to a diner up the street when the Underground’s manager announced last call. Isabel frowned again, thinking to herself that Oz had somehow managed to pay her tab as well. She had another mental image of the two of them seated in Bien-Venue, the preferred after-hours eating spot in the downtown area – owned by the same people who owned Underground. She remembered talking while they ate the high-end diner fare.

Isabel began scrubbing herself, turning her head this way and that, hoping that the heat of the shower water would loosen the tight feeling there. She couldn’t quite remember what she had eaten at Bien-Venue, only that she had gradually sobered up – not fully, but enough to think to herself that she might be capable of driving herself home.

She had walked with Oz to his car, and somehow – Isabel saw flashes in her mind’s eye – she had ended up in the back seat with him. As she slid her soapy hands along one of her legs, Isabel felt a rough patch, like a scab, just below where her hip and thigh met, only inches away from her vagina. “What the hell is that?” Isabel looked down at her leg, turning out at the hip to examine the patch. It looked like something between a small, deep scratch and a bite mark. She scowled at the mark, trying to remember how it had come to be there; certainly, it hadn’t been there before that night.

There was no way that there had been enough room in the back of Oz’s car for him to have done that, and on top of that, Isabel thought, it doesn’t look like anything a person could have done. Was there some kind of critter in his car? Had she done something after getting out of Oz’s car when they had finished?

Isabel shuddered, trying to imagine how such an odd mark could have ended up in such an intimate area and failing utterly. “Okay, it’ll come back to you later. Think about it later,” she told herself. “No sense in getting yourself all worked up.”

She finished her shower and grabbed her towel, feeling a small measure more human than when she had stepped into the bathroom, even if there were still bits and pieces of the night before that Isabel thought she would never quite recall. There had been a few nights like that in her life before; she had learned not to worry herself about it too much. But the soreness, the tender feeling between her legs, told her that whatever had happened, she must have been enthusiastic.

Isabel wrapped the towel tightly around her breasts and walked across her apartment to the kitchen. Her head was still throbbing, but she thought it had subsided a little. “Maybe next week, I’ll stick with my usual,” Isabel mused, pressing the power button on her coffee maker to start it up. She remembered suddenly that she’d also had one or two shots of something – maybe a Fireball, something with cinnamon. The shots hadn’t been drugged; but they had utterly destroyed her inhibitions. “No wonder I feel like death warmed over,” Isabel murmured to herself. She put a coffee pod in the brewer and grabbed a mug out of the cupboard. The whole evening was so strange; Isabel shook her head in disbelief.

There were other things; that much Isabel knew. Whatever she had done with Oz in the back of his car, it hadn’t caused the strange mark on her inner thigh, or the tenderness she felt along her labia and along her inner walls. Isabel snickered softly to herself as the coffee began pouring into the mug. “Whoever else I ended up with, they must have been big.” She shook her head again.

Isabel —added cream and sugar to her coffee then walked to her couch and sat down, sipping carefully. As the caffeine began to do its work, a few more flashes of the night before came back to her. There had been another man; she couldn’t remember who, just the fact of hearing someone call to her, quietly, as she had left Oz’s car.

I told him I was fine to drive home, that I didn’t feel like going back to his place. Isabel drank down some more coffee and set the mug aside. And then on the way to my own car ... who was it? She couldn’t remember, only that she had seen the guy earlier in the night at Underground.

There was a second guy, she thought; she had gone to his place. “No wonder I’m sore and feel eaten up,” Isabel said, amused at her own decadence and mildly appalled at the same time.

The guy had climbed into the passenger seat of her car; Isabel could remember his voice, cool, low, and calm, directing her to his address – which she couldn’t remember the house. She could remember the feeling of him inside of her, and something about his skin being strange under her hands, but that was it. Isabel shuddered, smiling slightly to herself at the memory of how the second man – whoever he was – had felt. That explains a lot. It didn’t explain the odd marks on her leg, but Isabel pushed that thought aside; there were too many good memories from the night before to wonder about odd scabs on her body. They didn’t look like anything that could be an early STD indicator, plus when she had scrubbed at them with the soap, they didn’t hurt. Resolving to get them checked out if they didn’t clear up within a few days, Isabel turned on the TV and considered how to spend the rest of her weekend.

After she had finished her first cup of coffee, she made breakfast: eggs and toast, with some apple juice to put an end to the dregs of her hangover. Her phone buzzed, and Isabel – grateful that she had plugged it in before passing out – checked it to find that Alicia, one of her friends, wanted to get dinner. She figured that would fill up a few hours, at least. Isabel sighed, looking at but not quite watching the TV, knowing that all too soon it would be Sunday morning, and then it would be Sunday night, and she would have to go back to work. “At least I have a good story to tell about my Friday night out,” she mused to herself. She imagined the look on Alicia’s face when she told her that she’d had sex with not one, but two guys in the same night.

Setting her plate in the empty sink, Isabel walked back into her bedroom. She started going through her clothes to figure out what to wear that evening, and thought to herself that it was a damned good thing that she hadn’t let either man come home with her. “Not that they weren’t gentlemen, in their own way,” she said, countering her own thought. “But probably just as well not to let them know where I live.” Isabel smiled wryly to herself; there was no way that either man would want to have anything else to do with her, as much as she would have liked a repeat performance with either. The fact that she couldn’t remember who the second man had been bugged her a little; but there wasn’t anything to do about it. She would just have to accept that it had been one of those magical evenings where things went even better than expected, and leave it at that.

Chapter Three

Isabel stepped into the bathroom closest to her desk at the office, feeling a strange skin-crawling sensation all over. Mondays suck but this is ridiculous, she thought, hurrying over to one of the stalls.

As she stepped out of the stall, Isabel glanced at herself in the mirror, and froze where she stood, not even hearing the noise as the door to the cubicle slammed shut. She stared at her own reflection, frowning, trying to figure out what was so shocking about it, why it had stopped her dead in her tracks.

After a few seconds of staring, Isabel shook her head in disbelief. She had seen herself in the mirror so many times in the course of her life that unless she was checking her hair or makeup, she barely even looked. But the woman she saw in the mirror in front of her was both the same one she always saw and somehow, indefinably, different at the same time. She continued staring, trying to understand what it was she was seeing.

She reached around to the back of her head, and almost thoughtlessly, Isabel’s fingers found the elastic band she had used that morning for twisting and tucking her dark hair into a bun. Isabel felt a sharp tug at some of her hairs, stuck in the elastic, and then the bun unwound, and her hair fell around her face. She gasped at the sight of it; just that morning, or so she had thought, she’d had dark brown hair, stick-straight and healthy, if not particularly glamorous. But the woman in the mirror bore a hood, a cascade made of flowing, crackling, dark wavy hair, that seemed to have a life of its own; shot through with glimmering highlights in warmer coppery and cinnamon colors. It was as if she had spent the morning being pampered at a salon – a high-priced salon – and not at her desk, reviewing a client brief trying to sort out the conflicting instructions.

She hadn’t put on makeup that morning, because she had barely managed to get out of bed by the third snooze cycle on her alarm. But the woman in the mirror had artist-worthy makeup, a gleam in her gray eyes that was hot and cold all at once, full lips that promised everything a man could want. “Is my face ... thinner?” Isabel hesitantly stepped closer to the mirror, peering into the image. Her cheekbones looked as if she had gotten them filled in, her chin had somehow become sharper, and the expanse under her cheekbones was firmer. “What the hell is going on?” Isabel lightly slapped at her face, unable to quite fully believe it as the woman in the mirror did the same. Even the clothes she was wearing – a comfortable ensemble made up of a cardigan and shell, and a pencil skirt seemed to look more glamorous on her, somehow.

Isabel shook her head and turned away from the mirror. She remembered that in her distraction she hadn’t washed her hands, and turned back, keeping her eyes averted from the hypnotizing woman in the glass as she bent to clean up. “Don’t think about it,” she told herself quietly, thankful for the fact that she was alone in the restroom. “If you suddenly look like a model, just ... just don’t think about it. It’s not important.”

She dried her hands and left the bathroom, moving quickly towards her desk. Try as she might, Isabel couldn’t put the arresting image of herself out of her mind, even as she worked on the copy she had been assigned. Her stomach felt strange; both tight and loose, and she hadn’t been able to make herself finish her breakfast. Her options for lunch didn’t sound at all appealing to her, though she thought that if she waited too long she would end up making a bad decision in the midafternoon. Isabel sat back in her chair, frowning to herself, remembering the sight of her own reflection. It had to have been a fluke, some kind of weird hallucination, didn’t it?

Isabel glanced at her purse, set aside on her desk out of the way of her computer and keyboard. Her fingers itched as she tried to type a few more sentences, but the temptation was irresistible. She grabbed her purse quickly, convinced – or at least hoping – that the compact mirror inside would reveal the woman she had woken up as that morning. She fumbled amongst the detritus in her bag until her fingers closed around the smooth compact. Taking a quick, deep breath, Isabel looked around; everyone in the office was busy at their own tasks, completely absorbed in their computers, paying no attention to her. At least that much is normal, she thought.

She opened the compact and steeled herself, not certain whether she wanted the sight she had seen in the restroom to be the truth or a hallucination. If it was a hallucination, you have bigger things to worry about than just suddenly being weirdly gorgeous, she thought. But then again, if it wasn’t a hallucination, you’re going to have to figure out how to explain to everyone – including yourself – how you suddenly turned into a glamazon. She closed her eyes and held the mirror part of the compact up to her face, a few inches away from her.

Isabel opened her eyes, and for just an instant, she felt disappointment that the image she saw was exactly what she had seen before leaving for work that morning. But the next instant, her eyes focused, and she saw that if she had been hallucinating before, she still was; she was utterly stunning. Okay, so this doesn’t answer that question…. not exactly, anyway. Isabel closed the compact and put it aside. She could still be hallucinating; it could still be fake.

“How do you figure out if something is a hallucination?” Isabel glanced around her again, making sure that nobody had overheard her quiet musing. She could take a picture of herself, but somehow it didn’t seem like that would be adequate proof; she could hallucinate an image on a screen just as easily as she could the image of herself in a mirror. The only way to prove that something isn’t a hallucination is to confirm that other people see it, too. She would have to see if someone else thought she looked amazing, but she would have to do it in such a way that she could confirm at least a few specifics of what her eyes were telling her.

Isabel stood up from her desk and stretched against the tightness she could feel in her shoulders and back, looking around the office floor. Who could she ask? How could she do it? Isabel considered…. Alex? That’s who I can ask. Alex, the Project Manager for the copy department, he had never liked her. At least, that was the impression that Isabel had gotten from the man, who was about fifteen years older than she was, and almost as plain as she had been. Alex had dropped hints that she was homely in the past, remarking that it was a good thing that she wasn’t client-facing, and that she was exactly what people thought they would see when they considered a copywriter. “If he notices, then it must be real,” Isabel murmured to herself.

She spotted Alex walking near the conference rooms, headed towards his office. Isabel thought about a pretense to waylay him, as she tried to figure something that would justify being in his presence long enough for him to pay attention to her looks. It couldn’t just be a quick question – it had to be something that prompted a longer conversation. The Peterson brief, she realized quickly.

Isabel grabbed the paperwork from the client file and started across the office, moving to intercept Alex. “Hey! Hey, Al!” Isabel quickened her steps, and Alex barely glanced up from the notepad in front of him.

“What’s up, Izzy?” Isabel rolled her eyes; she had always hated that nickname, but no one in the office seemed to care.

“I need to talk to you about Peterson,” she said. “Do you have a couple of free minutes?”

Alex looked up fully from his notepad, and stopped short, staring at her for a moment. “Yes, of course,” he said, his voice more pleasant than it had been all morning.

“Can we step into your office?” Alex nodded slowly, looking almost as if he were entranced, or maybe drugged.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Come on in.” He gestured for Isabel to precede him into the office, and she did, glancing back in Alex’s direction as he followed her. As if today wasn’t weird enough already, she thought.

“So,” Isabel said, when Alex closed the office door behind them. “I’m having some trouble figuring out what they mean in a few places here.”

“You are?” Alex shook his head. “But you’re always so good at that.” Isabel raised an eyebrow at the compliment and plunged forward, sitting down as Alex somehow managed to get into the chair behind his desk without looking at it. He was staring at her almost without blinking. “What seems to be the problem? And how can I solve it for you?” He smiled, and the sight sent a tingle of both apprehension and pride down Isabel’s spine. She had seen a smile like that before, but never on Alex’s face. It was the smile like the ones on the faces of men at Underground – or at one of the few other bars she went to— – when they were about to make a move on her.

“It’s just that they’re contradicting themselves,” Isabel said, shrugging. “Totally opposite instructions in different places.” She handed the file across the desk, and Alex opened it, glancing at it for just an instant before turning his attention back to her.

“You know,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his chin on his hands, “I don’t know what you’ve done to yourself, but I can’t stop staring at you.”

“Thank you … I think,” Isabel said, smiling awkwardly. Well whatever he’s seeing, it certainly can’t be that far off from what was in the mirror, she thought.

“I would give you anything you wanted if you were to come home with me,” Alex blurted. Isabel sat back in the chair, staring at Alex in shock. He had never come onto her before. She had never seen him be anything but appropriate with the women in the office, at least in terms of flirting; his remarks about appearance had been somewhat irritating, but always just on the right side of HR standards. “Or …I mean, we could take a smoke break right now. My car’s on the top floor of the parking garage, and the AC is great in it.”

“That’s inappropriate,” Isabel said sharply.

“Of course!” Alex blinked and the slightly leering look in his eyes cleared, only to be replaced once more with the musing softness she had seen before. “I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable, Izzy.”

“Don’t call me that!” she told him, flustered and irritable in equal measures.

“Never again,” Alex promised. Isabel sat for a moment, staring at him gazing at her, and wondered what was happening to her. Is this just the way guys act around you if you’re gorgeous? Isabel decided to test the idea, weak as it was.

“I think I’d appreciate it even more if you’d call Peterson and tell them to send over new, clearer instructions,” she said; her voice sounded strange to her own ears as she spoke: soft and commanding all at once, sultry and amusing. “Maybe then we could talk about your car.” Alex reached for the handset to his phone. “Wait!” Isabel leaned forward in the chair. “Wait until I get back to my desk,” she suggested.

“Of course, of course,” Alex said, nodding agreeably. “Whatever you want.”

“What I want is to go home early,” Isabel said wryly, thinking out loud more than anything else.

“Then you should do that,” Alex told her. Isabel stared at him.

“But then I won’t get paid,” she pointed out.

“Why not?” Alex looked genuinely confused.

“Because I won’t be working. I need to be here to get paid, don’t I?”

“Don’t you?” Alex looked so genuinely confused, so earnest, that Isabel started to feel afraid again.

“Are you saying I could go home right now and you’d just ... let me get paid for the day?”

“If that was what you wanted, then of course, I would,” Alex replied.

“Then ... I guess that’s what I’ll do,” Isabel said. “Don’t – don’t tell anyone you’re doing this.”

“No, that would be stupid,” Alex agreed. “I’ll just make sure you’re punched out at the right time.”

“Okay,” Isabel said, staring at him in shock. “Let me know what Peterson says.” She rose to her feet, and Alex looked her up and down; for a moment, his gaze almost made Isabel’s stomach turn over, it was so full of straightforward lust. “I’ll just go now. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Can’t wait,” Alex said cheerfully. “Maybe you could wear a shorter skirt?”

“I’ll think about it,” Isabel said, shaken. She turned on her heel and left the office.

Chapter Four

“This is absurd,” Isabel said to herself, pacing across her living room floor. “Things like this don’t happen.” She shook her head, reflecting on her drive home. She had been so distracted, so completely bowled over by the shocks of the day, that she had blown right through a red light. Predictably, a police officer had been right behind her when it happened. That, at least, had been more or less how Isabel expected her day-to-day life to go. Right up until the officer had walked up to her window, she had felt comforted by the regularity of the situation in spite of the knowledge that a red-light ticket was going to cost far more than she could afford.

As soon as the officer had leaned in to look at her, in the midst of asking about her license, registration and insurance, Isabel had known that it wasn’t going to be the normal process. She thought that Alex’s reaction to her newfound desirability was an isolated incident, but the same look of almost drugged enchantment had come over the middle-aged man’s face as soon as she met his gaze. “How are you this afternoon, ma’am? You look absolutely fucking amazing.”

It had to be more than just becoming attractive, Isabel thought as she continued to pace. She decided to test the luck she’d had with her boss on the police officer, just on a whim, thinking she had nothing to lose. “Thank you,” she’d said warmly. “I feel amazing, too.”

“I bet you do,” the man had said, his voice dropping low. “Any chance I can feel amazing?”

“Not today,” she told him. “But maybe you would be willing to do me a favor?”

“Anything you want,” the man – whose name tag read Reilly – --had replied. “Anything at all.”

“Don’t give me a ticket, please,” Isabel had suggested. “It would make me so very sad.”

“No ticket,” Reilly had agreed. Isabel’s shock at the strange turn of events had deepened.

“Maybe you’d be willing to drive alongside me, make sure no one else pulls me over for anything?”

“Of course,” Reilly had said. “I’d love to.”

When she’d arrived at her apartment building, Isabel had been at a loss for what to do with the enraptured officer. She’d finally decided to tell him to get back to his job, and he’d beamed at her as if she’d given him the best treat of his life and gotten back into his car.

“What the hell is going on?” Isabel glanced at herself in the big mirror she had put up on the wall opposite her living room window. She was as beautiful as ever. “It can’t just be the fact that I’m hot. It can’t be.” She had known gorgeous women, and while Isabel had heard more than once about their random triumphs, she had never heard of any of them getting off work early with pay, or getting out of a completely valid ticket, much less getting a police escort, just from asking.

Then too, Isabel thought, peering at herself more closely, she wasn’t just beautiful; she wasn’t even just gorgeous or stunning. As the day had worn on, every time she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw something newly captivating about her face. And she had noticed that her clothes felt just a bit looser than they had when she put them on. Not so much that she worried about them falling off, but enough to notice. There was something supernatural about how she looked, how she felt. That was the only word that seemed to fit what was happening; even if it was absurd to think of it that way.

Seized by a sudden thought, Isabel quickly undressed, throwing her clothes aside without paying attention to where they landed in her living room. She sat down on her couch and spread her legs, turning one out at the hip to look at the spot where she had noticed the odd mark only two days before. It was still there, but it had changed; it had healed, somehow, but two little spots lingered, pale pink like scars. “Bite marks don’t completely heal in two days?” Isabel brushed her fingers over the spots, and something rose up in her mind: she remembered watching True Blood a month before, and the marks the vampires had left behind. “No – no, that’s ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head dismissively at her own whimsy and looking around for her clothes to put them back on.

Isabel gathered up her office outfit and looked at it distastefully. It had been comfortable enough for sitting at a desk, but she was so shaken by the events of the day that all she wanted was to get into her pajamas. She strode into her bedroom and threw the ensemble into the hamper, pulling a pair of soft cotton shorts and a loose tank top out of a drawer. She didn’t expect for anyone to visit her, so there was no need for a bra or a pair of panties.

Almost as soon as Isabel stepped out of her bedroom, dressed for a comfortable afternoon of existential horror and television, she heard a knock at her door. “Of course,” she said with a sigh, glancing down at herself. Whoever it was – Jehovah’s Witness, someone selling cable packages, or the building manager – they would just have to accept that people in their homes lounged around in pajamas. Isabel padded to the door on her bare feet, irritable at her pensive afternoon being interrupted. She unlocked the deadbolt and twisted the knob lock, not even bothering to look through the peephole before opening the door.

The man on the other side of it was definitely not a Witness, nor was he the building manager; and Isabel was fairly certain he wasn’t interested in selling her a new cable package either. For a moment, she stared at the gorgeous man, wondering why he looked so familiar. I could not have possibly met someone this good looking and forgotten how it happened, she thought. She took in his dark, shoulder-length hair, his hazel eyes, his broad shoulders and lean, muscled build, and racked her brain for a few heartbeats.

Then, all at once, it came back to her. Friday night, Underground. The man who had paid her tab, who had taken her to a late dinner – or maybe it was an exceptionally early breakfast – and then taken her in the back seat of her car. “Let me in, Isabel,” he said firmly, and before she could even think about the command, Isabel stepped back from the door, opening it wider.

“What the hell?” she shook her head, looking down at her hands and then at the man.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Oz said, stepping into her apartment. “You’re confused, aren’t you?”

“Confused and a little bit scared at the fact that I apparently don’t have the self-preservation instinct to close the door on a one-night stand who’s stalking me,” she said sharply.

“Sit down,” Oz told her. Once again, before she could even think about the command, she found herself obeying it. She closed the door and walked over to the couch, seating herself primly.

“Okay,” she said. “I think you need to explain what this is, and what’s going on.” Oz smiled slightly, his eyes gleaming.

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” he told her. “You’re in trouble, Isabel. More trouble than you know.”

“You know about what’s happening with me,” she said, realizing it in an instant. “The whole stuff that happened at work and with the cop.” Oz nodded.

“You will listen to me, you will hear me out, and you won’t interrupt with any questions until I’m done explaining. Is that understood?” Isabel nodded, in spite of the questions she could feel on the tip of her tongue, almost burning her lips. “You’re becoming a succubus.”

For an instant, Isabel opened her mouth to retort that what he was saying was ridiculous, but then closed her mouth just as quickly. She frowned…... she had questions, she wanted to say something. You won’t interrupt me. Anger kindled in Isabel’s mind, replacing the instinctive apprehension at the stranger’s arrival. Where does he get off making demands like this?

“Yes, yes, I know,” Oz said, smiling slightly, almost seeming to enjoy her discomfort, or at least amused by it. “Impossible.” Isabel nodded, wondering what kind of control that man had on her that she couldn’t bring herself to ask the questions churning in her mind. “You humans,” he said, shaking his head. “So obsessed with the paranormal but so unwilling to believe it when it happens to you.” Isabel raised an eyebrow and Oz looked up at the ceiling. “Since you obviously aren’t capable of listening without comment, you can speak,” he said.

“First of all: a succubus, really?” Isabel crossed her arms over her chest. “Second of all, how is it that you get to boss me around and I can’t help but obey you?” She swallowed against the tight, dry feeling in her throat. “Third: what the hell is going on and how did this happen to me?”

“Yes, really, a succubus,” Oz said, sarcastically mimicking her tone. “Because of the circumstances that triggered your change into a succubus, I and one other person have control over you. It’s a safeguard, to make sure that your kind don’t overrun the planet.”

“But a succubus is a kind of demon,” Isabel pointed out, grateful that Oz hadn’t thought to command her to silence once more.

“Succubi are created, not born,” Oz told her. “You are becoming a succubus because you had sex with an angel and a vampire in the same night.” Isabel blushed; only a short time before her one-night stand’s arrival, she had felt proud at the fact that she had managed to hook up with two guys in one night. Or if not proud, then impressed at herself for the implied attraction both men had felt for her. But something about the way that Oz spoke made her feel petty.

“Wait,” Isabel said, her mind latching onto the significance of his explanation instead of the tone. “A vampire and an angel?” She shook her head. “Neither of those things exist, any more than succubi are real.”

“I thought you would say that,” Oz said. He reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. Isabel frowned as he tugged it over his head and let it fall to the floor before turning his back to her. A shimmery light glowed along his muscular shoulder blades, and before Isabel’s eyes, a pair of glorious-looking, gold-tipped, white feathery wings, began to appear, spreading out from the center of Oz’s back. Even when Oz turned around, Isabel could only stare at him, bemused and utterly shocked. She had to believe her eyes, right?

“Okay,” she said after a long moment. “So you’re the angel, obviously.” Oz grinned.

“Obviously,” he told her. “Vampires have wings that they can summon or hide as well, but theirs are always dark.”

“Why do I suddenly get the feeling that my entire life is about to become incredibly complicated?” Oz’s grin changed into a wry smile.

“It isn’t about to become incredibly complicated,” he told her. “It already is.”

“What do you mean?” Isabel’s heart beat faster in her chest; she wasn’t sure she believed what Oz had said. After all, it was the stuff of fantasy movies and HBO series, but unless he had some kind of mind control ability, she didn’t think he could fake the wings she had seen.

Oz folded his wings; they shimmered and disappeared, and he put his shirt back on. “In order to be a succubus, you have to have had sex with an angel, me,” he smiled slightly before continuing, “and a vampire.” Isabel pressed her lips together and looked down at her hands, remembering the mark on her inner thigh.

“Okay, so I’m turning into some kind of demon-thing,” she said. “That’s pretty complicated, for sure, but I get the feeling you mean something more than that.” Oz nodded.

“First of all: you aren’t a demon, and aren’t turning into one. You’re an immortal being – like I am and like the vampire you also had sex with is.”

“Wait. Immortal?” Isabel stared at him.

“You’re just starting to transform now,” Oz explained. “Within about a week, the process will be complete, and you’ll be a full succubus.”

“What does that even mean?” Isabel’s mind was still struggling to accept what she was hearing.

“You’ll find that you can readily control men’s minds,” Oz said. “As the week goes on, you will become more and more supernaturally beautiful until you are beyond the ideal for the society you live in. More advanced succubi can change whenever they enter a new culture, becoming the height of beauty wherever they are, but that takes a great deal of time and skill to master.”

“That sounds good, at least,” Isabel said thoughtfully.

“You won’t need to sleep. In fact, once you complete the transition, you’ll find you don’t even want to sleep, and if you do sleep, it will generally be during the day. At night, you will be restless.” Oz half-smiled. “You can still eat food, but your body won’t derive sufficient nutrients from it. When you complete the transition and fully become a succubus, you will absolutely have to have sex every night.”

“Have to?” Isabel stared at the angel. She thought it was as good a term as any, in shock. “I’ve gone weeks without sex before, though.” Oz shook his head.

“If you go without nightly sex – without a condom – once you’re fully transformed, you’ll begin to weaken within days,” he said. “You’ll find that you have an utterly insatiable appetite for sex, almost an addictive need.” Isabel opened her mouth, realized she had no idea what to say to that, and then closed it.

“How am I going to manage to get sex every night?” she asked finally. Oz grinned.

“Did you forget about the control of men’s minds?”

“That would-be rape!” Isabel glared at him. “I’m not going to control some guy into screwing me so I can stay alive.”

“They will only be too willing,” Oz told her drily.

“But won’t – are all succubi just walking STDs or something?”

“You’re naturally immune,” Oz said. “The other thing you could do, which I recommend is to find a ‘host’ or person you can rely on for your needs.” Isabel’s face burned as the significance of what Oz said filled her mind.

“So basically, I’m feeding off of whoever I have sex with,” she said. “And you think I should find someone who will agree to have sex with me every night?”

“It will be the best sex of their lives,” Oz said, shrugging. “Not many would turn that down.”

“This is …” Isabel shook her head. “This is insane, and wrong. How could …how is this fair? Just because I slept with two guys in one night who happened to apparently be an angel and a vampire?”

“How are you feeling, Isabel?” She stared at Oz in confusion. The question made no sense, but she realized, in spite of the fear, shock, and dismay she felt, she could feel a little tendril of heat working its way through her body, down her spine. “Hungry?”

Chapter Five

Isabel stood and took a few steps back from Oz. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Her stomach was gnawing, but there was a throbbing deeper down, between her legs. In a matter of moments, she felt the slickness along her labia. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she told Oz.

“Tell me the truth,” Oz told her firmly. “Are you aroused right now?” Isabel looked down at her feet, unwilling to answer. But unable to help herself.

“Yes,” she said, feeling ashamed.

“It’s natural,” Oz said, his voice more soothing. “You’ll find yourself becoming turned on several times a day, more and more often until you’re fully transformed. Then, once you’re a complete succubus, you’ll learn to control your appetite, although it will never go away.” He was stepping closer to her, and Isabel felt a mixture of apprehension and desire as she caught the scent of him: warm, sweet, delicious. Was that what he had smelled like during their one-night stand? She didn’t think so, but her mouth watered for more. Images flitted through her head, utterly pornographic: falling to her knees, she took Oz’s hard cock into her mouth and worshipped it with her lips and tongue with abandonment until he came; or pushing him onto the couch and ripping her clothes off to ride him, hard and fast, eager for his climax; or Oz bending her over the back of a chair, taking her from behind all at once.

“This is insane,” Isabel murmured.

“You need to be fucked, don’t you?” Isabel looked up at Oz’s face, feeling humiliated and needy, as if her whole body were on fire. She nodded, resigned. “Tell me what you want, Isabel.”

“I want to suck you off until you come in my mouth.” The words left her almost without thought – she had never in her life been so direct with anyone she had slept with.

Oz smiled slightly and his hands moved to the waistband of his jeans. Isabel stared in a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated desire as Oz unbuttoned and unzipped, then hooked his thumbs into the fabric at his hips. He pushed his pants down, and his boxers with them. His cock immediately sprung free, fully erect. For the span of a few heartbeats, Isabel stood transfixed, wondering if she had actually seen Oz’s body before. When they’d had their one-night stand; there was something so deeply arousing about the sight of him, about the lean muscle of his body and the thick, flushed erection in its nest of dark curls, that Isabel thought it was impossible for her to have seen him before.

The next instant, she was on her knees in front of him, licking her lips to moisten them as she leaned in towards the tip of Oz’s erection. She darted her tongue out to catch the glistening drop of fluid, and it spread across her taste buds, sharp and salty yet slightly bitter and sweet all at once. Isabel took as much of Oz’s cock into her mouth as she could, sucking and licking, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head as she swallowed down the taste of him. The hunger she could feel in the pit of her stomach, in the tightness between her hips, began to sharpen and ease. She pressed forward, wrapping her lips around the thick length of Oz’s erection as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

In the back of her mind, Isabel thought that at any moment, she would set off her gag reflex; normally it was fairly sensitive. But as she swallowed, she felt the tip of Oz’s cock brushing against the back of her throat –  no sudden rejection, no reflexive retch. The hunger was too strong for her to wonder at it too much, especially when she was getting exactly what she wanted. Isabel moved her lips up and down along Oz’s shaft, swirling her tongue around the hot, hard cock until she came to the tip, and then pushing back down. Oz’s fingers slid through her hair, and then tangled as he brought them to rest on the sides of her head. Isabel could feel the tension mounting deep down between her hips, the heat gathering along her labia. She knew she had to be soaking wet. It was impossible for her to believe it, but as she moaned at the feeling of Oz’s erection in her mouth, the taste of him, the sheer satisfaction felt like the first bites of a meal when she was starving. She couldn’t argue.

Oz moaned, his fingers tightening in her hair, and Isabel worked him with her mouth, reaching up with one hand to cradle the thin-skinned, warm testicles underneath. She gave them a careful, gentle squeeze and Oz almost shouted, his hands tugging at her head. The pain in her scalp felt oddly good, and Isabel moved faster, coiling her tongue around the shaft of Oz’s penis, wrapping her lips more tightly around him. At that point, he was almost too much for her to take; as he began to twitch inside her mouth, his pre-cum flowing more freely, Isabel struggled to keep her momentum up, fought to get what she so desperately wanted from him.

Oz came with a shout, his hands tugging at her hair, his hips thrusting forward, deep into her mouth even as the first gush of his pleasure flooded across her tongue. Isabel swallowed eagerly, eyes closed. In the back of her mind, she was shocked at how good it tasted, how delicious the salty-sharp flavor was. More and more of it rushed into her mouth and Isabel savored every drop, sucking and licking and swallowing until Oz’s hips began to slow and she felt the rigid member between her lips begin to soften.

She sat back, panting and gasping for breath, then looked up at Oz. He had his eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. He looked down at her, and Isabel grinned, still feeling the heat coursing through her body. “That has to have been at least half natural talent,” Oz told her.

Isabel shrugged.

“You don’t remember the night before?” Oz sat down on the couch heavily, still panting.

“You didn’t go down on me the night before,” he replied. Isabel chuckled and got unsteadily onto her feet. She could feel the pulse of lust still dancing through her veins, along her bones; taking Oz in her mouth had helped, but it wasn’t enough. Good god, this is going to get tricky if what he says is right, she thought, even as she began stripping her clothes off, almost unconsciously.

Oz watched her, and Isabel saw the mixture of interest, amusement, and renewed desire in his eyes. “If you’re an angel, why are you having sex?” Isabel began letting her hands move over her body slowly, making as much as she possibly could of her curves, for once utterly unself-conscious about the belly she’d had since puberty, or her heavy thighs.

“Your concept of angels isn’t the real thing,” Oz told her. Isabel saw one of his hands reach down and he began to touch himself, slowly and lightly but steadily. “There’s a lot that humans don’t know about us. We’re not innocent or naïve, and we definitely have sex.” Isabel giggled.

She climbed onto the couch, focused solely on the man sitting there, stroking himself to hardness once more. Isabel slipped one hand between her legs, and she felt how hot and wet she was: utterly soaking, her fingers coated in an instant. She found her clitoris by touch and began to rub it, in light, swirling touches, closing her eyes as a tingling jolt of pleasure mingled with need shot through her. “Stop that,” Oz said sharply. Immediately, Isabel’s eyes opened, and her fingers withdrew. She stared at Oz, confused and disappointed.

“Why?” Oz reached out with his free hand and cupped her vulva, rubbing the heel of his palm against her until Isabel moaned.

“Because,” Oz said, his fingers slipping and sliding between her labia, slowly pushing into her, making her shiver and gasp, “you should always let the person you’re about to feed on have a taste first.” He plunged two fingers inside of her all the way and Isabel cried out; it felt so tight – tighter than it had been the last time they’d had sex, almost as tight as it had been the first time she slept with someone.

Oz withdrew his fingers and Isabel frowned. Every nerve in her body was screaming for pleasure; she needed it, not just wanted it. Before she could say anything, Oz let go of his already-hard cock and reached for her. This time, instead of fingering her, he grabbed her by the waist with both hands and lifted her up, until she was just above his lap. “Tell me what you want, Isabel,” Oz said.

“I want to ride you, hard and fast,” Isabel told him. “I want to feel you come inside me.” Oz gently lowered her until her labia barely brushed against his erection, her legs straddling him.

“Then do it,” he said mildly.

Isabel shifted on top of him, reaching down to guide the tip of Oz’s cock against her slippery, drenched folds until she found the exact spot where she wanted him. She sank down onto him, pushing her hips to take him all at once. Oz’s hands moved to her hips, and then back, cupping her buttocks, holding her tightly as Isabel took him in. “Fuck,” she moaned. It felt like a minor miracle that he’d fit inside of her at all. She felt so full, so tight around him. Oz’s cock throbbed inside of her and Isabel began to move, twisting her hips, rubbing her pleasure center against him as she rode him, taking him deeper and deeper. She gripped the back of the couch to steady herself, moving faster, moaning again and again at the heat of him inside of her, at the sensation of being full where she’d felt so empty only moments before. It was unlike any sex she’d ever had in her life; intense in a way she had never experienced before, her body flexing around the hard cock invading it as if it were simultaneously trying to defend itself and pull him in.

“Did I forget to mention?” Oz began thrusting up into her, rubbing along her inner walls, the tip of his cock brushing against her g-spot with almost every movement. “It’s – it’s going to be the best sex of – of your life, every time.” He claimed her mouth, kissing her hungrily as Isabel moved. She flexed around him, and felt the movement of the muscles, felt the squeeze, and then the reaction from his body as he began to twitch, deep inside of her.

Before she knew it, Isabel felt the mounting tension and heat between her hips reach its highest point, and then all of a sudden it broke; wave after wave after wave of sensation washing through her. Even with the mind-blowing pleasure of her orgasm, she was keenly aware of Oz reaching his own climax, the sticky-slick gush of heat rushing into her body as he moaned against her lips and pushed her buttocks down until he was as deep in her as possible, his fingers pressing into her skin almost hard enough to bruise. Isabel broke away from his lips, shrieking in pleasure, electric sensation crackling through every nerve of her body as she succumbed to the end of their tryst.

Chapter Six

Isabel stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, feeling the lingering slickness, the tender sensation along her labia. She had retreated to her bed when she had recovered from the encounter with Oz, confused, satisfied, and worried in equal measures. Oz had remained behind, and Isabel was grateful for that; she needed time to think. She needed to wrap her mind around what was happening to her, and what Oz had told her would continue to happen moving forward. “This is so screwed up,” she told the ceiling.

She had always had a healthy sexual appetite, but the way she had gone down on Oz, the way she had ridden him, the absolute hunger she had experienced was something totally out of her understanding. Isabel shook her head, baffled by how good the sex had been as well as how much she had not just wanted but needed it. “At least I’m good for a day, I guess,” she said absently.

“You technically don’t need to feed again for another two days, if you don’t want to,” Oz said from her bedroom door. He came into the room, and Isabel fought off the sense of irritation she felt; she needed way more answers.

“I thought you said I’d need it nightly?”

Oz shook his head.

“Once you’re fully transformed, you will,” he said. He smiled slightly. “Given your current appetite, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were so voracious you needed it a few times a night.” Isabel groaned, turning over onto her side, away from him.

“This is humiliating,” she said, not bothering to look at the man.

“It’s definitely something to adjust to,” Oz said. His voice was surprisingly mild. “But there are benefits.”

“Oh yes, getting out of tickets and getting my boss to let me leave early for the day with pay are huge benefits,” she said. Oz chuckled.

“You’re thinking too small,” he told her. “You can control the mind of any man – well, gay men are iffy. But think about what that means.”

Isabel considered it.

“If you’re thinking I can just go around getting guys to give me money …” the idea felt dirty to her.

“You could,” Oz said. “You could also become a model; no male designer would tell you no. You could go into sex work – that way you’d get paid and be guaranteed to get the feedings you need.” Isabel cringed. He’s not wrong, but going into sex work just because … she shook her head, sighing.

“It would feel wrong,” she told him.

“There’s a more important concern,” Oz said. Isabel turned over to face him, confused.

“What more important concern?”

“You’re vulnerable,” Oz told her. “Remember how you ended up like this?” Isabel rolled her eyes and sat up, feeling the slick slither of her fluids mingled with Oz’s against her labia, along her inner thighs.

“According to you, by having sex with you and also a vampire,” she said tartly.

“Right,” Oz said. “And unfortunately, that fact puts you in more than a slightly awkward position. That’s why I’m here – not just to tell you what you are and to give you a good feeding.” He gave her a faint, almost sardonic smile.

“Okay,” Isabel said. She licked her lips and combed her fingers through her hair. “So, explain this to me.”

“Vampires and angels, we don’t get along,” Oz said. “Not really, anyway. It’s not exactly a good versus evil thing, though you can think of it that way. It’s more a question of factions. Vampires are creatures of night; they can go out during the day, at least after their first hundred years, but they have to be careful.”

“This isn’t exactly explaining the awkwardness,” Isabel told him.

“Listen to me,” Oz said. Isabel subsided, taking a deep breath.

“Explain that, too; the way you can make me do whatever you want, whether I want to or not,” she demanded.

“It’s because I helped create you,” Oz said. “Your body obeys my commands.” Isabel raised an eyebrow at that but decided to let it pass; there were more important things to find out. “Vampires and angels, we both have a vested interest in keeping succubi contained. However, we have different opinions about how to accomplish that.”

“How so?” Oz sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Angels ... we mostly try to help succubi by setting them up with a host. Someone who can satisfy their needs. Or we steer them into providing sex therapy, or other things like that.”

“Okay, and the vampires don’t do that?”

Oz shook his head.

“The vampires are big in sex work: prostitution, porn, BDSM clubs and so on,” he said. “They’re also invested in some unsavory practices that they use succubi in: blackmail, slave trading, things like that.”

“So, apparently, it’s a good thing you found me,” Isabel said, feeling a trickle of fear down her spine.

“The bigger issue is that the vampires are amassing an army,” Oz explained. “There are all kinds of paranormal and supernatural creatures on this planet, and the vampires are trying to get as many of them as possible on their side.”

“And the angels aren’t?”

Oz half-shrugged.

“We’re a bit more passive in our recruitment,” he said. “We don’t feed on humans, vampires do.”

“And feeding on humans is relevant because?”

“Because the ultimate goal that the vampires have is war,” Oz said. “They want to essentially bring the non-supernatural community under the collective rule of themselves and a few other creatures that exist.”

“And succubi are part of that?”

Oz nodded.

“They play an instrumental role,” he said. “After all, the ability to control men’s minds comes in pretty handy for waging war against them, doesn’t it?” Isabel shuddered. She hadn’t fully enjoyed even the little taste of mind control she’d had earlier in the day. The thought of that ability being used as a weapon gave her chills. “There’s basically been a cold war between angels and vampires for centuries. Angels want the supernatural world to stay quiet and hidden. Vampires want to come out and have the right to feed on whomever they want to, whenever they want to.”

“And because of that, I’m in danger,” Isabel said, making it not quite a question.

“They’ll want to recruit you,” Oz said. “If not willingly, then by force. From what we’ve been able to determine, they starve succubi to make them compliant, and then only give them the opportunity to feed if they agree to do what they’re told.”

“So, my mind control doesn’t work on vampires, I take it,” Isabel said grimly.

“It’s not as strong, because they have similar abilities,” Oz said. “Angels are also partially immune. And if they starve you, your ability to control minds will weaken.”

“Clearly, I need to avoid vampires,” Isabel said.

“To that point, I want you to stay in my house,” Oz told her. “I’ll support you financially – there’s no need for you to keep your current job, or even find a new one.”

“You must be pretty well off to just suggest taking me in like that,” Isabel said, looking at him skeptically.

“I have about ten billion dollars,” Oz said smiling. “It’s not difficult to accumulate wealth when you’re immortal.”

“That makes sense,” Isabel said. She fidgeted, looking at the man she had first considered a one-night stand. He was an angel. And now I can’t tell anyone the story about that night, Isabel thought, almost bitterly. I’ll be off the grid until ... well … “How long would I have to stay with you?”

“Until this matter is resolved,” Oz said firmly. “Until you’re not in danger anymore.”

Chapter Seven

The house that Oz brought Isabel to looked – at first – like a standard mini-mansion, with a landscaped yard, and a modestly sizeable home on it behind wrought iron fencing. But as Oz pulled up onto the circular driveway, Isabel realized that it was something like an illusion; the house was grander, larger, more ornate than she had thought from the street. “How did you pull that off?”

“A little this, a little that,” Oz said, matter-of-factly. “There’s some illusion magic along the perimeter of the grounds to keep people who haven’t been brought here directly from even knowing it’s here.”

“Magic is real?” Oz smiled.

“Magic is real, vampires are real, angels are real,” he said. “There’s a whole wide supernatural world out there, Isabel.”

“And now I’m a member of it,” she said wryly.

“Yes, you are,” Oz told her. He parked the car and shut the engine off, and Isabel thought that if she had to be on veritable house arrest for the foreseeable future, she at least had a big, expansive house to be confined to.

She climbed out of the car and followed Oz towards the front door. It was painted red, a deep, bold shade that seemed almost to glow, and the frame was coated in something that Isabel couldn’t quite identify, that gave it a slightly shiny finish. The front yard, hemmed in by the wrought-iron fence, was perfectly manicured, with lushly growing garden beds.

Oz unlocked and opened the door as Isabel followed him into the house, blinking in amazement. She had been torn between belief and disbelief when Oz had told her that he was a billionaire; but the marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and the subtle gleam of gold leaf along the molding above set her firmly in the “belief” camp. “Come on, Isabel, let me show you your room,” he said.

The whole situation was bizarre; Isabel looked around as she followed Oz through the house, thinking to herself that if anyone ever told her that it had happened to them, she would think they were not just lying, but insane. I’m a succubus, she thought. I’m going to have to make sure I have sex with someone every night or I’ll ‘starve’…. no matter how much food I eat. Vampires exist…. Angels exist, but they’re not like angels from the bible. Her mind spun in circles, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Here,” Oz said. He opened a door to a room that was almost half the size of Isabel’s entire home. Looking in, she could see doorways leading into a bathroom and presumably a closet, along with a big, wide bed that dominated the room, a dresser and a vanity with a low bench in front of it. She spotted a flat screen TV, and some kind of terminal – it was turned off at the moment – that had the Wi-Fi symbol on it.

“Not a bad prison, all things considered,” Isabel said, stepping through the door. Oz had given her enough time to grab a small suitcase of clothes, and when she had started to pack makeup in her luggage, he’d snorted and pointed out that as a succubus, there would be no —need for makeup ever again.

“It’s not a prison,” Oz said, his voice firm. “I don’t think you understand the urgency in this, Isabel.”

“I would be able to understand the urgency in this if I could believe half of what happened,” Isabel said. “I’m still trying to figure out how to make sense of becoming a succubus, and you being a literal, real angel, and the fact that I apparently had sex with a vampire. Oh, and that’s just the beginning of the bombs you dropped on me today.”

“If nothing else,” Oz said, starting to lighten a bit, “you know that while you’re here, you’ll be able to keep yourself from starving.”

“I guess,” Isabel said. “I’m assuming this isn’t just going to be a few days.”

“Until further notice,” Oz told her. Isabel sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around her room.

“You do realize that I have friends and people in my life, right?” she said as she met Oz’s gaze. “People who will miss me if I just disappear.”

“I would recommend that if you’re going to meet with any of your friends and family, you keep it to the women,” Oz told her. “I can’t guarantee if you meet with any males who know you – even if they’re family – that they won’t be sexually interested in you.” Isabel stared at Oz.

“If I meet with my Dad …?”

“He will react the same way your boss did, in all likelihood.” Isabel shuddered, involuntarily imagining it. It’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this? She took a slow, deep breath.

“So only women,” she said.

“Until you’re better able to control your output, yes,” Oz said, nodding. “Once you’re fully adapted to being a succubus, you might be able to go around male friends and family without having to beat them off of you with a baseball bat.”

“But if I have control over their minds, I can just tell them to stop it.” Oz smiled.

“Just trust me on this one,” he said. “Men will continue to have a difficult time controlling their impulse to hit on you. All men.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Isabel looked at Oz.

“Depends on the favor,” he said.

“I’d really like some space,” Isabel told him. “I need to kind of ... figure things out.”

“Of course,” Oz said. He smiled slightly. “If you get lonely, or hungry …” his smile deepened, and Isabel looked away, feeling embarrassed at the knowing look in his eyes.

He left the room, and Isabel let herself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing at all in my entire life is normal anymore, she thought bitterly. Her body was changing; she had caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the way to the bedroom she would be staying in at Oz’s house, and could have sworn that she was slimmer, more svelte. Even though she didn’t have the burning, stomach-churning need for sex that she had felt earlier, she could still sense the pulse of her new appetite deep down in her brain.

Oz had said that because he was part of what had turned her into a succubus, he was able to command her. But the vampire and Isabel’s brain balked at the idea that had also taken part in her strange conversion: would he have the same ability? With any luck, I’ll never know. Isabel shuddered, thinking of what Oz had told her about how the vampires treated the succubi; they wanted to recruit.

“I wanted to change my life but this is ridiculous,” Isabel said, shaking her head against the mattress. She had wanted to get a different job, or find someone she could maybe consider dating in the long term – not to turn into a supernatural creature that fed off of sexual energy, never slept, and had to be careful around the men in her life she wasn’t interested in sexually.

“It’s not fair,” she murmured, turning over onto her side and curling up into a G shape, her knees almost to her stomach, her flatter stomach. The fact that she was losing weight without doing anything different in her life, so much so that her clothes were starting to not fit in a matter of only two days since she’d had her one-night stand with Oz, truly unsettled her.

She didn’t feel physically tired, but as Isabel kept her eyes closed, trying to think, to wrap her mind around everything that had happened to her in such a short time she found herself drifting off. Absently, she thought she might as well appreciate the ability to sleep while she still had it, just before her thinking slowed with her breaths, and she slipped into a deeper doze.

Chapter Eight

“I feel ridiculous,” Isabel told Oz as they strode through the mall, in the direction of Nordstrom. He’d insisted that she wear sunglasses and a hat, that she pull her hair back under the cap he had given her and wear the most shapeless dress that she had brought to his mansion. It was nearly dusk, and she felt more conspicuous in the “disguise”.

“The sunglasses keep you from eye contact with people,” Oz explained. “The hat shields your hair. The clothes cover up your body. It was either this or try and order everything online without knowing what your new size is.” Isabel pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, following him still.

Two days since she had agreed to stay at his house, under his protection, Isabel had realized that none of her clothes – not even her underwear – fit. She had slimmed down at the waist, thighs, hips, and paradoxically had gone up at least one cup size in her breasts, almost overnight. If it weren’t for Oz’s patient explanations, she would have already rushed herself to the doctor.

Her irritation at the confused and frankly wondering looks she caught other mall patrons giving her was compounded by the fact that she could feel her hunger rising. Isabel had tried to eat two huge meals already: a big breakfast of eggs, pancakes, bacon, oatmeal, and yogurt, and then a lunch of pasta, steak, salad, and wine. But no matter how much she ate, it seemed, the hunger kept gnawing at her. Isabel glanced at Oz, a few steps ahead of her. She would have to “feed” again soon, and the fact filled her with resentment.

Of all the things that Isabel had tried to adjust to since she had started the transformation, the fact that she had to have sex regularly, that it was like eating instead of something she could enjoy whenever she could get it, was the most unfair. Isabel stared at Oz’s back, knowing that she was going to end up in his bed that night – and that she would enjoy it, that she would be a fully willing participant – and almost, but not quite, hating him for that fact. It wasn’t his fault, strictly speaking; Isabel knew that. But she knew she should be more grateful to him; that he was willing to take care of her, to finance her life and even provide her with the regular sex she needed to stay healthy.

They stepped into Nordstrom and Oz made a beeline for the service counter, reaching back without looking for Isabel’s hand. She put her hand in his, and felt a little tingle from her fingers to her shoulder, all the way through her spine. She had begun to suspect that things were different with Oz – not just because he was an angel instead of a regular human, but something more. But as quickly as things had changed, it was too much to try and evaluate.

“We need all female assistance,” Oz told the customer service manager at the desk. “We’re going to be spending quite a bit of money in multiple departments, but it’s imperative that all our customer service people are women.” The manager raised an eyebrow at that, looking at Isabel, and she gave him a wry smile from behind her sunglasses. The man frowned, peering more closely at her, and Isabel could see the brief flicker of confused lust on his face. Okay, so maybe the stupid, ugly disguise was a good idea.

“Of course,” the manager said. “If you can tell me which departments you’ll be shopping in today, I’ll make sure to have someone on hand in each one to assist you.”

“Intimates, women’s shoes, and jewelry,” Oz told the man. Isabel squeezed his hand reflexively at the last category, even as the manager nodded his assent and stepped over to the phone on his desk to make the arrangement.

“Jewelry?” she tilted her sunglasses down on her nose just enough to meet Oz’s gaze.

“My money, I can spend it how I want,” Oz told her.

“If you think that this is going to obligate me–”

“You already have to do what I say,” Oz interrupted her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Why would I need to obligate you?”

Isabel took a slow breath and exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Fine,” she said. “But don’t … don’t think that this makes me ... indebted to you. That’s all.”

“If I wanted to indebt you to me, I’d write up a contract,” Oz said. The manager came back to them.

“Would you like to start in Intimates? One of my best representatives is there, ready to assist in any way she can.”

“As long as you have a chain of female attendants for us to go to, I am happy to start wherever you like,” Oz told the man. He looked at Isabel. “Intimates, my dear?” Isabel almost started at the familiar name, but quickly realized that unless they played the part of a couple, they’d attract more than their fair share of unwanted attention.

“Sure, babe,” Isabel said sweetly.

The woman waiting for them in the Intimates and Sleepwear department was middle-aged, but Isabel could see that she had been lovely – probably even hot – in her younger years. Her skin was duller with age, and her hair had the look of salon processing to cover grays, but she had bright eyes in a well-made up face.  She looked curvy enough to have learned the hard way the value of proper lingerie fitting. “Oh, my dear, new wardrobe?”

“From the bottom up, as it were,” Oz said.

“Let’s get started with some measurements, and go from there,” the woman suggested, dividing her attention between Isabel and Oz. “Do you have a budget in mind? I want to make sure to steer you towards the best possible value.”

“Money is no object,” Oz told the woman. Isabel thought the look that leaped into the attendant’s eyes was similar to the expression of someone on the edge of orgasm; the observation was the only point of real amusement she felt at the situation.

Isabel began to relax as she and Oz went from one department to another. She noticed how Oz exuded charm to the attendants they spoke to, but in the most unobtrusive way possible. He was endlessly patient. He was pleasant and smiling, and the women they worked with all responded to it immediately. Of course, they’re probably predisposed to like him on the grounds that he’s incredibly hot and rich, Isabel thought cynically. But it seemed like more than that, and Isabel thought – in the back of her mind – that there must be some kind of angelic magic, or persuasion, to it.

Almost before she knew it, Isabel realized that Oz had managed to rack up nearly a thousand dollars in purchases. He’d had to buy bras and panties separately, instead of in their standard sets, since – as she learned from the attendant – she had gone up two cup sizes to a size F, and down one band size, while her hip measurements had gone down enough inches to bring her to a size 6 panty. They had nearly had an incident while Isabel was trying on clothes in the women’s wear department: a man had strayed through, following in the wake of his wife. Isabel had taken off the hat and the sunglasses, and as she emerged from the changing room to get Oz’s approval of a dress, the married man stopped dead in his tracks to stare at her without any pretense or attempt to cover it up.

Oz had intercepted the man before he could do more than stare, getting in his line of sight and joking with him for a moment while Isabel scrambled to put her sunglasses and hat back on. That had underscored the fact that she had to be more careful about showing herself in public, at least until she had figured out how to control her “output,” as Oz called it, more than any of his warnings had managed to do.

The hunger gnawed at her stomach, and throbbed deep down in her hips, by the time they left Nordstrom; both of them loaded down with bags. Oz had taken his share without complaint or even comment, and Isabel thought of the men she saw in the mall every other time she had been there, glumly carrying their girlfriends’ or wives’ purchases, holding shopping bags out at arm’s length to prove their masculinity in some way. Oz didn’t seem to have any of those hang-ups at all, and Isabel wondered at that. “Do you have the energy to stop somewhere else before we leave?” Oz asked.

“You didn’t spend enough money at Nordstrom?” Isabel thought of the staggering totals from each department, the incredible charges that Oz had run up without batting a single eyelash, and couldn’t believe that he would suggest spending more money.

“You deserve a treat,” Oz said. He pointed out a storefront several spots down from where they stood: Lush. Isabel’s eyes widened; she knew the store well, even spent a good bit of her own money there.

“Why?” Isabel looked at him. Oz smiled.

“Maybe I want you to be comfortable, happy, and pleased if you’re stuck staying with me for the foreseeable future,” he said. “Come on. If you don’t see anything you like, I won’t buy anything.”

They started towards the shop, and Isabel tried to fight down her misgivings at the prospect of Oz spending more money on her. As they walked, she felt something – a frisson – deep down in the bottom of her spine. That’s weird, she thought; it wasn’t a feeling she had ever experienced before, and she thought that it must be some function of her new existence as a supernatural creature.

“Oz, you shouldn’t have thought you could keep her hidden from us,” a voice said. Isabel’s heart beat faster in her chest as a group of people surrounded them. All pale, their skin faintly shimmery in the unnatural light of the mall. They wore black suits, regulation-style; to Isabel they almost looked like officials, or some kind of law enforcement. Secret service? FBI? CIA?

“You’re coming with us dear,” a feminine voice said, near her ear. “Best not to fight it.” One of the suited figures did something to Oz; the angel struggled, but in a matter of moments, he was subdued. Isabel had no idea how to react as hands clamped on her wrists, icy-cold, like stone wrapped in velvet. “It’ll go easier on you if you just let it happen.”

Chapter Nine

Isabel wasn’t sure what the suited figures in the mall had done to her; but she found herself – an unknown time later – in a dark room, waking up bit by bit. Oh great, they’ve left me in this pitch-black room, so whatever is coming for me, I’ll never see it. Except … Isabel squinted, feeling the movement in the muscles around her eyes. Her vision began to adjust, much more than she would have thought possible, and Isabel made out the vague shapes of furniture in the room she had been left in.

She sat up, and realized that she was dressed in some kind of robe, loose around her newly svelte-curvy body. She couldn’t feel the sunglasses or the hat. Isabel took a slow breath, trying to still the racing of her heart. Who the hell were those people? Isabel closed her eyes again and tried to remember whatever had happened. All she could dredge up from the depths of her mind was that they had stone-cold hands, they were pale, and they somehow managed to subdue an angel.

Five hundred says they were vampires, Isabel thought. A week before, she wouldn’t have been so confident of it. Even as she had started her transformation under Oz’s watchful eyes, she had doubted the reality of vampires even after accepting the existence of angels. “Oz, you shouldn’t have thought you could keep her hidden from us.” That was what one of them – a woman, Isabel was certain – had said. Who else would have an interest in her? Or maybe Oz had lied about the situation with angels, with vampires. Could angels lie?

Isabel heard movement, and her heart started beating faster in her chest. They’re going to have to turn the lights on, whoever they are, she thought. If someone’s coming to check on me, they’ll need the light. At the very least, they would have to open the door. Isabel was certain she was alone in whatever room she had been placed in. She took a slow, deep breath, trying to think what she should do. You know absolutely nothing at all about vampires, she thought. You don’t even know if any of the myths about them are true.

The door opened and light flooded the room. Isabel winced, crossing her arms over her chest, curling her knees up, unprepared.

“Look at me.” The voice cut through her distraction and Isabel opened her eyes immediately, in spite of the discomfort of adjustment. The light in the room wasn’t as bright as she had thought it initially was – it was yellow-toned, almost soothing once her pupils adjusted to the onslaught. The room, she saw in a quick glance, was about the size of her apartment bedroom, with the bed she was on, a chair, and a door opposite her, along with the door that someone had just entered. “Boy, are you in trouble,” the person said, and Isabel heard the door close with a soft murmur.

“Who the hell are you?” She looked at the man who had entered her room – her cell, she thought, might be more accurate. She recognized him: the blond hair, the pale eyes and the tailored suit. “No … no, you can’t be the one …”

“The one who helped make you?” The man raised a sand-colored eyebrow, his lips twitching in the start of a smile. “One and the same.”

“But you …you would have to be …”

“A vampire, of course,” the man said. He sat down in the chair a few feet from the bed she had woken up on. “I wouldn’t have been able to come into this room on my own otherwise.”

“What about Oz?” Isabel felt her heart beating faster and faster in her chest.

“He’s in trouble, too,” the blond said cheerfully. Isabel racked her brain, trying to remember not just his name, but the circumstances under which she had ended up having sex with him. The same night she had hooked up with Oz. “Hungry?”

Isabel stared at the vampire. She had been hungry, in the new way that she had begun to feel hunger. She’d forgotten completely. “You’re …”

“I’m offering to let you feed,” the vampire said. Isabel pressed her lips together; after what Oz had told her about the vampires and how they starved the succubi that fell into their hands, forcing them to do their bidding, amongst other unsavory acts. The idea of having anything to do with a vampire was unappetizing. “Oh,” the vampire said, smiling a little more fully. “You’ve heard bad things about vampires.” Isabel nodded.

“I helped to make you,” the vampire said. “I have as much claim on you as Oz does.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Isabel told him, knowing her tone was sulky and not entirely caring. The vampire chuckled, his bright – almost unearthly-looking – eyes gleaming.

“Call me Gavin,” the vampire said. He held her gaze for a long moment.

“That wasn’t an order, was it?” Isabel tilted her head to the side slightly.

“No,” Gavin said. “Just a suggestion. You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name; it’s too old and weird.”

“I’m assuming Oz’s real name isn’t Oz either,” Isabel said. She could feel the hunger gnawing at her again. It was as if Gavin’s question had brought it back.

“Of course not,” Gavin said with a shrug. He rose to his feet. Isabel started when he was somehow right in front of her, inches away from the bed, in an instant. “You didn’t answer my question. How long has it been since you fed?”

Isabel shrugged.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been out,” she said. She looked down at her hands. “But if it was just a few hours, then … it’s been a couple of days.” Gavin’s eyes widened.

“Oz…” his voice dropped to a growl.

“It’s not his fault,” Isabel said defensively, without knowing why she felt the need to come to the angel’s defense in the first place.

“It is,” Gavin said, unbuttoning the blazer of his suit and taking it off. “He should be taking better care of you, if he’s trying to keep you away from my kind.”

“He made it clear he’s available to me whenever I want,” Isabel insisted.

“He should have commanded you to feed,” Gavin said sharply. He reached out for her, and Isabel gasped at the feeling of his cold hands against her skin. How could she possibly have forgotten sex with a man who felt like that? Whose whole body, as far as she could tell, was like a marble statue wrapped in silk? “You will never – —ever – neglect yourself again, do you understand me, Isabel?” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “Answer me.”

“I understand,” Isabel said, the words leaving her lips almost before she could consciously think them. Part of her was irritated at the knowledge that yet another person on the planet could command her complete obedience; another part of her thrilled at the knowledge that she was finally about to get what she needed.

“What do you want, Isabel?” Gavin’s cold fingers brushed against her cheeks, and Isabel felt her whole body heating up. The hunger that she had been suppressing – since before the ill-fated trip to the mall – rose up, overcoming all sense of hesitation at the fact that the man in the room with her was a vampire. Just like when Oz had first come to her, Isabel found herself picturing what it would be like to be with Gavin in vivid, graphic mental images. She imagined him pushing her down onto her stomach, pulling the hem of the robes she wore over her hips, and taking her. She imagined falling to her knees when he had finished inside of her and taking him into her mouth, tasting herself on his cock as she made him hard once again, and then being thrown onto her back on the bed, her ankles on Gavin’s shoulders, as he took her another time.

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” Isabel replied. “Hard and fast – as hard as you want to.” Gavin smiled.

“And then?” Isabel felt herself blushing in spite of the desperate need she could feel burning away at her pride.

“And then I want to get you hard again with my mouth and have you take me again,” she said.

“How many times?” Gavin’s breath – strangely cold – brushed against her lips. “How much do you need to feed, little Isabel?”

“I’m starving,” Isabel admitted. Gavin’s cold hands slid up along her waist, and Isabel realized that she had nothing on underneath the robe. Her nipples immediately hardened into firm little nubs as Gavin’s thumbs brushed against them.

“Poor little succubus,” Gavin murmured, his voice half-mocking, half-concerned. “You don’t know starving yet, but you are never to neglect your need to feed again.”

Isabel reached down between her body and Gavin’s, and she let her fingertips brush against the front of his tailored pants. He was hard. Isabel marveled at the heat she could feel radiating through the cloth. She moaned softly as Gavin claimed her mouth with his, and began to stroke him through the fabric of his clothes. Isabel could barely stop to think of how strange it was, how different Gavin was from Oz, and how different both men were to the regular human men she had been with.

Gavin’s fingers hooked into the fabric of the robe, and Isabel broke away from his hungry lips as she heard the telltale sharp noise, and felt the tugging, as he ripped the cloth into shreds and off of her. Isabel pulled back as Gavin drank her in with his eyes, his hands moving to cup her breasts. She gasped as he twisted and rolled her nipples between his cold fingers, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. “I want to hear you beg for it, little succubus,” Gavin murmured. He continued his attentions to her nipples and Isabel moaned out as she felt the slick heat flowing along the folds of her labia.

“Beg?” Isabel almost started when she looked at Gavin’s face, only to see his fangs emerge between his sharp-tipped teeth. Fear warred with need in her body; the fact that Gavin was clearly something much more predatory than Oz was not quite enough to make her forget the heat flowing through her veins, the hunger twisting somewhere deep down between her hips, as if her vagina led to her stomach.

“Beg me to take you,” Gavin said.

“Please. Please, Gavin, take me, I need it,” Isabel said. She closed her mouth against the words that had left it almost against her will, feeling humiliated at how easily he managed to gain her obedience.

“Strip me,” Gavin commanded her, and Isabel’s hands instantly moved to the buttons of his dress shirt. She could feel the coldness of his skin underneath, and wondered once again at the heat she had felt at the front of his pants. It occurred to her that she knew nothing at all about vampires beyond what Oz had told her. But Gavin’s command had hold of her; Isabel tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside, feasting her eyes on the muscular expanse of his chest. He was paler than Oz, paler than any man she had been with, his skin cool to the touch. Isabel’s hands moved down to the fly of Gavin’s pants and she unbuttoned and unzipped them before pulling them down over his hips to reveal a pair of silken boxers underneath. The bulge that showed – as obvious as the sun, straining at the filmy fabric – made her mouth water. Isabel licked her lips and hooked her fingers into the waistband of Gavin’s boxers. She eased them down, and Gavin’s hard cock sprung free, proudly erect.

She stared at it for a moment, feeling something like shock. Gavin’s skin was so pale that she could clearly see the veins, thick with the blood filling the member; his wheat-colored pubic hair was neatly trimmed, forming a nest of curls at the base of the erection, not quite concealing his balls underneath.

Instinct took over, and Isabel wrapped her hand around Gavin’s cock, stroking him slowly, achingly slow, but steadily, her thumb rubbing against the uncut tip. Gavin groaned, his hands tightening on her, and Isabel marveled at the difference between the vampire’s erection – which felt feverish in her hand – and the rest of him, which was cooler even than the room’s temperature.

Gavin’s hips bucked, and he shoved Isabel’s hand away from him, pulling her face up to kiss her hungrily. His hands on her body seemed possessed of a kind of power, a strength that almost frightened Isabel even as the proximity of his naked body, the feeling of his erection brushing against her skin, turned her on more than ever. She wanted him to the point that it felt as though her bones were shaking inside of her. How can I want someone I barely even know? Someone I can’t even remember sleeping with before?

Before she could answer that question, however, Gavin’s hands tightened on her, and Isabel cried out, startled, as Gavin lifted her off the bed, pressing her body against his for a tantalizing moment before he spun her around and pushed her onto the bed face-first. His hands pulled her hips back, and Isabel caught herself on her forearms, trembling with the desire that surged through her as she felt the heat of Gavin’s cock brushing against her slick folds. “Beg me again, Isabel,” Gavin said from behind her.

“Please,” Isabel murmured, struggling to push her hips back, to take him inside of her. “Please, Gavin, please take me. Take me as hard as you want me!” She felt the thick, hot tip of Gavin’s cock rubbing up and down along her labia, not quite penetrating, teasing her, and Isabel trembled, feeling the churning hunger deep down in her body. “Please, please, please,” Isabel pleaded, twisting her hips trying to push back onto him. It was still difficult for her to believe how quickly her desire rose up inside of her, how she could possibly want someone so intensely in a matter of moments.

Gavin thrust into her hard and fast and Isabel let her head fall forward between her forearms, her forehead against the blankets, moaning out long and low as he filled her up. She rose up onto the balls of her feet, flexing her muscles around the thick, hot intrusion that was Gavin’s cock, bowing her back to take him deeper. Gavin groaned from behind her and slid halfway out of her body before slamming back inside of her, his hips slapping against the curve of her buttocks. Isabel cried out as Gavin found his rhythm almost in an instant, thrusting hard and fast inside of her aching, needy body.

It was totally different than being with Oz, but Isabel felt her nerves tingling at the sensation; the cold of Gavin’s hands, the heat of his cock inside of her, was thrilling.  She twisted her hips, flexing her muscles around him, some bodily instinct taking over to overrule her conscious thought. She felt Gavin’s cold fingers digging into the skin of her hips, felt him speed up – so much so that she almost couldn’t keep up with him. Thrusting harder and faster inside of her until Isabel was briefly torn between the intense pleasure of the sensation and legitimate concern that her still mostly-human body couldn’t take the friction.

She struggled to hold out, to hold back the tension that she could feel building up in her body, but it was impossible; Isabel gripped the sheets in her hands, buried her face against them, and as the first jarring, body-wide waves of pleasure washed through her, she cried out again and again into the fabric. Her muscles rippled around Gavin’s cock as she came, and Isabel – the back of her mind still instinctively monitoring the man’s pleasure – felt his cock twitching inside of her, hotter than ever. She heard the long, low groan from behind her, and a gush of sticky-slick heat flooded into her. Isabel gasped, shivering as the flood flowed into her body; she wasn’t sure how but Gavin’s fluids were so hot they were almost scalding. Even as her orgasm intensified, she felt the sharp graze of the vampire’s teeth against her shoulder as he pulled her up and back.

“God – fuck, Isabel …” Gavin’s whole body went tense against hers, and all at once he let go of her. Isabel collapsed against the bed, barely holding herself up by her arms, panting and gasping for breath as she reeled from the intense climax.

He pulled out and Isabel felt briefly bereft, her body almost hollow in the wake of her orgasm. She twisted around and turned over onto her back, looking up at the vampire. “You’ll have to give me a minute before you do the rest,” Gavin told her. “That was more intense than I was counting on.” Isabel grinned, feeling a little surge of pride and power at the fact that she had satisfied a vampire so thoroughly that he needed to recover.

The next moment, though, the hunger was on her again, and Isabel sat up, slithering off of the bed and sinking to her knees in front of Gavin. She looked up at his face, and smiled to herself, briefly nuzzling against his hip before she wrapped her fingers around the base of his not-quite-flaccid dick and brought the tip to her lips. Gavin let out an animal sound as Isabel sucked the member into her mouth and began to swirl her tongue around him. His fingers tangled in her hair, and Isabel gave herself up to the instincts that took over more and more easily; she licked and sucked, her tongue winding around the flesh. Gavin – like Oz – was quite large, even before he became fully erect, for her to handle, but the need to taste him, to take him as much as she possibly could, was greater than her sense of limitation.

Gavin’s fingertips rubbed against her scalp, and Isabel felt his cock come to life between her lips, felt it begin to twitch slightly against her tongue as the blood flowed into it, making him swiftly hard once more. Isabel worked him with lips and tongue, even grazed her teeth against his sensitive skin, closing her eyes and giving herself up to the moment. She could taste herself on him, but she also tasted the sharp, slightly sweet taste of his pre-cum as it started to flow. It wasn’t like Oz’s fluids; it wasn’t like any fluid she had ever tasted. Instead it was almost like honey, both in taste and texture, and Isabel couldn’t get enough.

Gavin pushed her away and at the same moment lifted her up, half-throwing her onto the bed. “Still hungry?” Isabel nodded, and Gavin covered her body with his, the heat and cold of him tantalizing her. He kissed her eagerly, his tongue plunging past her lips, twisting and coiling around hers. Isabel gasped at the feeling of Gavin’s cold fingers rubbing along her labia, and then made a sound between a cry and a moan as two fingers slid inside of her. She was shocked at how tight she felt; she’d just taken his much thicker cock. “Oh, Oz didn’t tell you?” Gavin nipped at her bottom lip with his sharp teeth. “Your body adapts to the size of anything that penetrates it, becoming …” he began to work his fingers inside of her, “becoming as tight as it needs to be to provide pleasure.” Isabel gasped, shivering as Gavin’s long, cold fingers slid along her inner walls.

Isabel writhed, twisting her hips and pushing down onto Gavin’s fingers as his thumb found her clitoris. “Have you noticed, too, that this seems so much more sensitive?” He barely brushed against the bead of nerves and Isabel cried out, reaching for his shoulders blindly. Gavin curled his fingers inside of her, rubbing steadily against her g-spot. Isabel panted and gasped, moving mindlessly as pleasure crackled through her nerves.

Gavin’s fingers retreated all at once, and Isabel opened her eyes – unaware of having closed them – and groaned, scowling at him in disappointment. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Not even fully transformed and you want all the fucking you can get …” Gavin ducked his head away from her face, to her neck. Isabel felt the sharp teeth nip just below her pulse point, felt Gavin’s warm tongue lapping at the little bit of blood that welled up. “They could put you in a room with five men and you would feed for hours …” his tongue rasped against her skin, and Isabel whimpered. “And by the time you were through with them, they’d all do whatever it took to get you to fuck them again.”

Gavin pulled himself up, his hands gliding down along her legs. “Oh, are you ever in trouble, Isabel,” he said with a little grin. He grabbed her ankles and lifted them up onto his shoulders as he moved into place, his burning-hot erection sliding along her inner labia, not quite penetrating her. He held her gaze as he thrust forward, filling her up in one quick movement. Isabel moaned, pushing her hips down to take him deeper. Gavin began moving right away, the tip of his cock rubbing steadily against her g-spot. Isabel gave herself up to the pleasure, to the instincts that were starting to form more of her mind than conscious thought. She twisted and writhed, flexing her muscles around Gavin’s erection in fluttering movements, pulling him in as deep as he could go.

Gavin held her exactly where he wanted her, his hands ice cold against her feverish skin, and Isabel had no choice but to let him take her exactly the way he wanted; as she came closer and closer to her third orgasm, her voice cracking from the cries and moans leaving her throat. She felt his teeth sink into her skin, just above her ankle. Heat flowed out of her to meet Gavin’s cool lips, and Isabel sank into the simmering pleasure, moaning as her climax shattered through her.

Chapter Ten

“What did you mean I’m in trouble?” Isabel woke once again, without knowing how long she had been out to find Gavin in the bed next to her.

“The people who snatched you have big plans,” Gavin said. “Maybe Oz told you a little bit about them?” Isabel shrugged.

“Assuming they were vampires like you?” Gavin nodded.

“They were,” he said. “Vampires, but not like me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Gavin smiled slightly.

“The politics of my people can’t be summed up in one session,” he said. “We’re not as simple as the angels are.”

“Okay,” Isabel said, dismissing the other questions she had. “So why am I in trouble?”

“Because you are the perfect little succubus,” Gavin said, reaching out to claim one of her still-naked breasts in his hand. “Even before you started transforming, you were probably pretty sex-hungry, right?” Isabel blushed and looked away, trying to squirm free of Gavin’s touch. “You had sex with me no more than fifteen minutes after you left Oz,” Gavin pointed out matter-of-factly.

“That’s …” she scowled at Gavin. “I only barely remember that.” Gavin chuckled.

“I have some responsibility for your forgetfulness,” he admitted. “In my defense, it’s standard operating procedure.”

“Explain,” Isabel said. Gavin raised an eyebrow.

“Because you were so good,” he said, letting go of her breast and sitting up on the bed next to her. “I was assigned to follow Oz, to see if he fucked a woman, and then to seduce her myself.”

“To create a succubus,” Isabel concluded. Gavin nodded.

“So, you’re in league with the people who abducted me,” Isabel said. Gavin made a face.

“Yes and no,” he said.

“You’re not going to tell me anything useful, are you?”

“I’m going to tell you that if anyone else, other than me, comes into this room, you need to use whatever you can of your abilities. Just don’t give into the temptation to feed on them.”

“But you told me before not to neglect to feed.” Gavin smiled.

“You won’t be,” he said. “Vampires and angels are not as susceptible to your charms – at least, the mind-bending aspect of them – but enough time in your company and they’ll fall.”

“Okay,” Isabel said. “So how am I supposed to use that?”

“By insisting that you’ll only feed from me,” Gavin said. “They’re hoping that since I can control you, and since you will need to feed nightly, that they can use me to bend you.”

“Bend me?” Gavin nodded.

“With the succubi they find out in the world, they have to starve them,” Gavin explained. “Keep them locked up alone until they’re willing to do anything to be allowed to feed, and until they’ve lost the ability to control minds.”

“But not me.”

“That was why they started sending us to dog angels’ steps,” Gavin said. “If they knew when a new succubus would be created, they could snatch her up, imprison her, and use her makers against her.” Isabel shivered.

“Oz said … he said that the vampires want to be in the open?” Gavin nodded again.

“Some of them do,” he told her. “I’m not one of them, personally – what good is developing years of hunting skills if I can just grab someone off the street and feed on them?” He shook his head irritably. “We’re better off being mythical; something that the higher ups don’t seem to understand.”

“So, you’re not on their side?” Gavin smiled.

“I’m on my side,” he told her. “For the moment, that means getting you out of here, and getting Oz away from them.”

“It does?” Isabel stared at Gavin as he climbed out of the bed and began dressing.

“You will tell no one,” Gavin said, meeting her gaze. “You will refuse to feed from anyone other than me that the vampires send to you. Do you understand, Isabel?” Isabel nodded. “Say it.”

“I understand,” she said quickly. She tried to look away, annoyed. “You know, this whole ‘unquestioning obedience’ thing is irritating.” Gavin laughed.

“I’m selling the idea of you as my own personal succubus, to train you up properly until you can be used,” Gavin said, moving closer to her. He kissed her lightly on the lips and tweaked one of her nipples with rough, playful fingers making Isabel gasp and shiver. “I’ll be back tomorrow night to feed you, greedy little thing.” He kissed her again, one hand straying down to the curve of her ass. Isabel felt him smiling against her lips.

He let go of her and turned away, leaving the room so quickly that even if Isabel had had the presence of mind to try and follow him, she couldn’t have. The lights stayed on for a moment longer, and then – abruptly – she was in darkness again. Isabel sighed and laid back on the bed, staring up blindly in the direction of the ceiling, trying to understand what had happened to her, and what she could possibly do to get herself out of the situation she was in.

Chapter Eleven

Isabel could feel the hunger beginning to tug at her mind again; she wasn’t sure how long she had been in the dark, but it felt as if it were hours, at least. The feeding with Gavin had been enough to satisfy her for a while, but she knew without a doubt that her craving, her need, was growing.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She had no idea what to think; about Gavin, or about Oz. Oz had been the one to explain to her what she was, and what she needed, but Gavin seemed to know just as much, only about the other side. Both Oz and Gavin are in agreement that the vampires want nothing but trouble for me, she thought, scrubbing at her face.

The longer she lay in the dark, the better she could make out the dimensions of the room. Gavin told me not to feed from anyone else. Oz … The thought of Oz being a captive like her, maybe even somewhere in the same building, made her upset without knowing why. Oz had taken her in; he had tried to protect her. What did they do with all those clothes? It was a silly – probably an inappropriate – concern, but Isabel wondered about it, nonetheless. It was something to ask if and when Gavin ever came back to see her.

Isabel heard movement in the corridor and blinked a few times, trying to figure out how she might be able to adjust to the light when it inevitably came on. She wasn’t sure how she was so certain that whoever was outside of her room was going to stop and enter; but she was sure of it. It was almost as if she could sense the mind on the other side of the door, the intent.

The door opened and Isabel sat up in bed, blinking rapidly as the lights in the room came up. “Good evening, Isabel,” a feminine voice said. Isabel tried to fight down her sense of disappointment at the fact that it wasn’t Gavin. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw it was the woman from the mall. The woman looked different; she wasn’t in a suit – instead, she had put on a loose, flowing green dress. Her hair was down, which showed Isabel that it was long indeed: down to the woman’s waist, and a red so deep that it almost looked as though it had been stained in blood. “I see you enjoyed your visit with Gavin.”

“Who are you?” Isabel pulled the blanket around her, feeling self-conscious in her nakedness.

“Still clinging to some of your more human impulses, I see,” the woman said, sitting in the same chair that Gavin had taken when he entered earlier. “Those will go away soon enough.”

“You didn’t answer my question?” Isabel held the woman’s gaze, remembering Gavin’s commands to her.

“I’m here to sort of … explain a few things to you,” the woman said. Isabel hadn’t completely noticed before, but she spoke with a slight, strange accent; one she had never heard before.

“I know I’m a succubus,” Isabel said, ticking her points off on her fingers. “I know I have to ‘feed’ on people or no matter how much I eat, I’ll starve to death.”

The woman nodded.

“I also know that you’re a vampire, and that Oz is an angel, and I know that you kidnapped me from the mall.” Isabel licked her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, I assume you’re going to continue from there?”

“Do you know why we took you out of Oz’s keeping, Isabel?” Isabel resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I know why Oz said you would try and take me out of his keeping,” Isabel replied. “But I’m open to hearing an alternative explanation.”

“Succubi are special,” the woman told her. “You make people feel the most divine pleasure, and you feed off of it. You’re a combination of the best traits of vampires and angels.”

“Not hearing an explanation,” Isabel said, grateful that there was no way – to the best of her knowledge – that the woman could force her to listen quietly, or make her obey any particular command.

“Your needs and talents make you a natural ally for vampires,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “Ultimately, what’s good for us is good for you.”

“Okay, so you kidnapped me in order to show me how good I could have it?” Isabel gestured around the room. “Maybe I’ll understand better how wonderful it is to be kept in a dark room that I can’t leave all by myself for hours at a time when I fully transition.” She had – in the interests of making sure – checked the door at some point during her time in the darkness after Gavin had left. There was no way to open the door from her side of it.

“We wanted you to be properly receptive,” the woman explained. “The lights will stay on after I leave, and of course you can order food if you like it; there’s a voice address system.  You can bathe, dress yourself, whatever you like. You just can’t leave this room unless you’re invited out of it.” Isabel pressed her lips together.

“Oh yes, I can see how wonderful it will be to be a prisoner,” she said tartly. “What an improvement on my previous existence.”

“We have to make sure that you understand your new existence,” the woman said. “Oz made a mistake in trying to keep you from us. In order to function properly as a succubus, you will need tutelage from vampires, not just from angels.” Isabel rolled her eyes.

“What am I supposed to be learning from vampires?”

“How to feed without feeling shame,” the woman replied. “How to take what you want and ignore your silly human inclinations.” Isabel stared at her in shock. “We have a mutual interest, Isabel, and soon enough, you’ll see it.”

“Maybe you could tell me what that mutual interest is?”

The woman smiled slightly.

“Vampires want the ability to exist in the world without being covered by myth,” the woman replied. “We want to be able to feed when and on whomever we want.” She inclined her head towards Isabel. “Doesn’t that sound like a cause you can get behind?”

Isabel shrugged.

“Considering the fact that I apparently can control men’s minds and get what I want from them, I don’t see the issue.”

The woman chuckled.

“Isabel, don’t you think that if regular humans find out what you are; an immortal creature who feeds on desire and pleasure, then your life will probably not be quite so easy?”

“You haven’t given me a chance to find out,” Isabel replied.

“I’ll make sure someone comes in later to show you the records,” the woman told her. “Succubi have not been treated well by normal human society…. or incubi, for that matter. The only supernatural creatures who have been treated well are the angels. Is it any wonder why they’re fine with maintaining the status quo?”

Before Isabel could digest the question, the door opened again; Gavin came into the room, looking every bit at ease as he had hours earlier. “Ah, Portia. I see you’re giving my new creation her catechism.”

“Oz had his chance to pervert her thinking,” —Portia said, shrugging. “Why shouldn’t I get my innings in?”

“She’s mine to train,” Gavin told the other vampire. “The council agreed.”

“Why the council trusts you is beyond me,” Portia said, rising to her feet. “You’ve never shown an ounce of loyalty to anyone but yourself.”

“You’re just worried that I’ll succeed with her,” Gavin said with a knowing grin. “Then you don’t get to get off on torturing the poor thing.” Isabel watched the two, thinking to herself that the vampires looked like nothing so much as dogs circling a bone.

Without warning, they advanced on each other, and Isabel slid back on the bed instinctively as she heard sounds of fabric ripping. From behind the woman’s back, a pair of dark red-brown wings emerged; at almost the same moment, Isabel saw the fabric give way at the back of Gavin’s blazer, and through the tears, a pair of dark gray wings appeared and then unfurled, spreading out to their full expanse.

“Do you want to scare our new recruit, Portia? Because I believe you’re defeating your own purpose here, as they say these days,” Gavin said, sounding almost bored.

“Do not fuck with me, Gavin,” Portia said. She turned to Isabel. “There will be plenty of time later for you to get to know us better.” The woman smiled, revealing sharp teeth, fangs extended. “But Gavin clearly wants another mutual feeding, and far be it for me to prevent him.” Her wings folded back against her shoulders and Portia turned away, walking towards the door.

Gavin waited until the woman had left, and then Isabel watched as he pulled his own wings back in, and watched them disappear. “Sneaky little bitch,” he murmured towards the door. He looked at Isabel. “So, what did you think of our dear Portia?”

“I think she’s annoying,” Isabel replied. “She reminds me of a friend I ditched back in college.” Gavin laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Manipulative, bitchy, too wealthy for her own good?” Isabel shrugged.

“Something like that,” she said, remembering Cara; her former friend had dangled paid trips to the spa, or weekend outings to resorts her parents owned, as an exchange for friendship. Yet, whenever Isabel had gone with her, she’d received more or less constant insults.

“So I don’t have to warn you not to trust her, I assume,” Gavin said. He held out an arm. “Come here.”

Isabel found herself moving towards him almost before she could think of it, and her annoyance at the ready obedience of her body to Gavin’s commands returned. Gavin pulled her onto his lap, and Isabel felt a pulse of lust run through her body at the awareness of his masculinity, and the knowledge of what there was under his clothes. “I’m not going to feed you just yet,” Gavin said. “I want you to be a little hungry, you see, I do want to train you some.”

“Train me?” Isabel looked up into his face, irritable. “Like a dog?”

“Dogs are easier to train than succubi,” Gavin said wryly. “They actually want to obey.”

“If you’re just here to lord over how I can’t resist you or disobey you, I could kind of do without it,” Isabel told him. Gavin chuckled, slipping one hand down between her legs. He cupped her already-slick vulva, touching her lightly.

“Even if I hadn’t made you,” he murmured, “you would still have this reaction to me.”

“I would?” Isabel raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.

“Your body is going to have a continuous low-level arousal for the rest of your existence, whenever you see a man,” Gavin told her. “Especially one you’ve fed from.”

“You fed from me, too,” Isabel said, remembering that fact. She reached down and touched the marks on her lower leg; they were already starting to heal – much faster than the first ones she had received from Gavin, less than a week before.

“Of course,” Gavin said. “Succubus blood is like honey for us.” He grinned. “Not exactly a meal, but a sweet treat.”

“Oh.” Isabel closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “You know, I would really appreciate it if, when people offer to explain things to me, they actually, you know, explain.”

“It takes too long,” Gavin said. He withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips to lick the traces of her fluids off of them. “We’ve existed as long as humans have, as long as angels have – that’s millennia of politics, of history – you can’t expect to learn everything about the supernatural world in a week.”

“It would be helpful if I could at least know the full reasons why vampires and angels are fighting over me,” Isabel countered.

“You’ll learn them all,” Gavin said. “In the meantime, we need to get you out of here. Oz, too.”

“How are we going to do that?” Isabel gestured around the room. “I have kind of a suspicion that I’m supposed to be forced to stay here.”

“Oh, of course,” Gavin said. “But you see, my little greedy succubus, I’ve been working very hard to get an opening for something.”

“Why do you want to get Oz out?” Gavin looked away for a moment.

“Oz needs to be out of here because if we don’t get him out, they’ll kill him,” Gavin said.

“How do you kill an angel?” Gavin took a deep breath, and Isabel wondered if anything that the mythology said about vampires – that they were undead, never ate, and had to avoid churches and the sun – was true.

“Angels have a natural impulse – an instinct – to make people feel good,” Gavin said. “Some of the more advanced ones can heal injuries, but even the most basic, the weakest of them, can soothe pain and create feelings of peace, relief, pleasure.”

“Okay,” Isabel said. “That’s where that part of the whole succubus thing comes from.” Gavin nodded.

“But it drains them,” he explained. “They have to recharge – music, kindness, warmth, those kinds of things.” Gavin looked at Isabel intently. “The vampires are basically sending a steady stream of injured, depressed, or otherwise people – and entities – in pain into Oz’s cell.” Isabel considered that and shuddered.

“They’re making him heal them, and not giving him what he needs to recharge,” she said. Gavin nodded again.

“They want to warp him, to eventually use him against you,” Gavin said. He smiled slightly. “Fortunately for you, and for Oz, that fits perfectly into my plans.” Isabel frowned, confused.

“How?”

“Just suffice it to say that I am going to bring you to Oz,” Gavin told her. “You will not show anything other than hunger when we leave this room, and you are not to tell anyone – no matter how they try and manipulate you – about what I said.” He brushed his lips against her temple, and down to her ear. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Isabel said.

“You’re in real danger here, Isabel. Don’t let Portia’s juvenile behavior blind you to the fact that there are stronger, smarter minds behind her. Minds that see in you a treasure trove.”

“Why?” Isabel shook her head, unable to quite believe it.

“Because you are valuable,” Gavin told her. “You are one of the more powerful succubi we’ve managed to create in recent years. Good luck on my part, I suppose.” Gavin smiled against her skin. “Oz has excellent taste.”

“You talk like you like him,” Isabel said.

“I respect him,” Gavin replied. “I’d hate to see him drained to death. And I don’t want you being wasted on converting the masses.”

“You don’t?” Gavin chuckled lowly, and Isabel shivered as she felt his sharp teeth graze her neck.

“I have my own plans for you, little Isabel,” Gavin said. “And I need Oz to make those plans happen. Do exactly what I tell you, and you’ll never want for feedings. That’s all you need to know.”

Chapter Twelve

Isabel emerged from the shower attached to her room, feeling on edge almost as much as she felt energized and relaxed by the opportunity to get good and clean. It’s kind of amazing how much a shower can change your mood, she thought, stepping into the main room of her prison cell without even bothering to put on any clothes.

The transformation was still continuing; Isabel had seen her reflection in the mirror, and knew that she was almost at the peak of her beauty as a succubus; her hair seemed to shine with an almost crystalline gleam, and her eyes were bigger and brighter than ever. Her skin was utterly flawless, and the curves of her body were so ripe that if she had seen a picture of herself the way she had become back before the strange turn of events that led to her new existence, she would have insisted that nothing short of intensive, life-threateningly extreme plastic surgery could have accomplished it.

She turned around in front of a full-length mirror in her room, shaking her head at herself once more. The woman at Nordstrom had measured her bra size at a 34 F – and certainly, that size of bra had felt the most comfortable, but the woman Isabel saw in the mirror managed to have almost comically full breasts that drooped only just enough to be real. There was not a single stretch mark, not even the suggestion of a cellulite dimple on her body. One development that somewhat disturbed her was the fact that she didn’t seem to have any hair below her neck, almost anywhere. Her legs were flawlessly smooth, and as she had showered, Isabel had been alarmed to watch as the trimmed hair on her vulva slide away from her body, revealing utterly smooth skin underneath – so smooth, in fact, that it looked as though there had never been hair there in the first place. Her underarms were equally bare, and her eyebrows looked as if they had been professionally seen to.

“Well, I guess there’s something to be said about beauty standards,” Isabel murmured to herself, trying to dismiss the implications of her hairless body. She finished drying herself off and sat down on the edge of her bed, trying to decide whether or not she even wanted to get dressed.

Hours before – how long exactly, Isabel wasn’t sure, since a clock was not one of the room’s features – Gavin had told her that he had personal plans for her, and that they were somehow going to work together to free Oz. He had suggested that she would have to participate in a threesome in order to make that happen; and the part of Isabel’s mind that was still mostly human--and tied to her previous life--couldn’t quite believe that she would ever be so starved. Even though she’d managed to have sex with two men in the span of one evening, the thought of having sex with two men at the same time was beyond her. On the other hand, my job is basically to be as big of a slut as possible, Isabel thought, grimacing to herself.

As she considered the prospect of having sex with Oz and Gavin at the same time, Isabel couldn’t deny that she felt the heat beginning to start up in her body once again, the sense of something akin to hunger beginning to stir inside of her. As she had progressed in her transformation, the stomach-gnawing feeling had started to subside, replaced by a deeper kind of hunger that she hadn’t experienced since high school. Even at that, she thought, she didn’t quite feel it in her stomach anymore; it made sense that she wouldn’t--since she was more than capable of eating actual food, and since the source of the hunger wasn’t her digestive system, but rather something else.

“One of these days,” Isabel mused quietly to herself, “I will figure out everything there is to know about being a succubus, instead of having people only tell me as much as they want me to know about it.” She sighed and looked around the room. It was difficult to prepare herself for some rescue attempt that Gavin might make when she had no idea what he might want her to do, or when he might come to spring her. She thought about the other vampire she had met, Portia, who had definitely taken the wrong approach if she had wanted to earn Isabel’s trust. Isabel thought about the dark wings on the two vampires in her room and shuddered. Where Oz’s wings had been amazing – and somehow comforting – the darker wings of the vampires had reminded Isabel of predatory birds.

The door to her room opened and Isabel resisted the human urge to cover herself; instead she glanced in the direction of the noise and saw Portia walk in, with a man she had never seen before, looking almost drugged. “Thought you might be hungry,” Portia said, smiling broadly enough to show the sharpness of her teeth.

In spite of herself, Isabel felt the jolt of arousal course through her at the sight of the man. The human part of her mind argued that the man wasn’t even particularly attractive; he was maybe forty years old, with a flat stomach that looked as though it were starting to lose its tone, sunburned skin dusted with freckles and dark hair that had started to go gray at the temples. If he was mundane to Isabel, it was obvious from his immediate reaction to her that she was irresistible to him; the man’s eyes widened, and he opened and then closed his mouth, speechless for a moment. “God, I would pay my life savings to fuck you,” the man told her. “You’re probably tight as a virgin and wet as a slip-n-slide, aren’t you?”

“This is Steve,” Portia said, gesturing to the man. The door closed behind them and Isabel heard the lock click and thump into place. “He’s a regular human, as you can see. His fantasies include being turned into a vampire and having two succubi service him at once.” Isabel looked at the vampire sharply.

“I’m not hungry,” Isabel said, shrugging. “Gavin took good care of me earlier.” It was a lie, and Isabel knew that Portia was aware she was lying, but she’d had her commands from Gavin. Steve started towards her, seemingly transfixed. “Stay right there, bud,” Isabel told him sharply.

He froze in his tracks. “Very good! You take to the mind control aspects of your new state better than some,” Portia said with another smile. “We’ve had some difficulty getting some of our more ... moralistic recruits to embrace that part of their nature.”

“How do you handle that?” Portia shrugged.

“We starve them, and then feed them, and then starve them again, until they’re at the brink of losing the ability altogether--at least, temporarily of course – and then only let them feed if they use the ability.” Portia sat down in the only chair in the room and gestured to Steve. “He’s one of our better trainers for that purpose. Just last week, he gave into a succubus’ command to let her fuck him in the ass with a strap-on before she let him take her.” Isabel glanced at Steve.

“Is that true? Tell me if it is,” she said. Steve nodded.

“I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me, if I could get inside you,” Steve told her. “Sure I can’t come eat your tight, wet pussy for you?”

“That’s enough, Steve,” Isabel said. “From now on, you’ll treat me with the same respect that you would your own grandmother.” Steve frowned, obviously conflicted for a moment. Isabel flicked a glance in Portia’s direction to see the vampire’s amusement at the man’s confusion.

“Okay,” Steve said finally.

“Why don’t you sit down, Steve?” Steve looked around for somewhere to sit and Isabel suppressed a grin; in a certain respect, the ability to bend men’s minds was actually fun. “Sit on the floor,” she told him. Steve obeyed without a moment’s hesitation. Isabel turned her attention back onto Portia.

“They were right about you,” Portia said. The vampire woman shook her head slightly. “I may not trust Gavin, but he certainly has an eye for recruitment.”

“Wouldn’t it be more Oz that had the eye? He did have sex with me first.”

Portia shrugged as if the distinction didn’t matter much.

“Whatever the case, you’re clearly precocious,” Portia said. “If you would just let us train you, let us teach you how to be the best you can possibly be …” she smiled again. Always smiling that one, Isabel thought irreverently. “Then you could be a very wealthy, very powerful woman.”

“And by that you mean, feed on whoever you bring me, and submit to your rules,” Isabel said. She shook her head. “Not particularly interested.”

“Gavin isn’t going to be in the council’s good graces forever,” Portia told her. “You’re going to need someone to handle you.”

“I’m kind of full up on people commanding my life,” Isabel said.

“Succubi on their own become self-destructive,” Portia told her dryly. “Without guidance, without someone to make sure they’re feeding safely …” she shrugged again.

“And even if you got rid of Gavin, I’d still be here,” Isabel pointed out. “It might have occurred to you that I’m not really keen on being controlled.”

“No one is,” Portia said. “But when it’s inevitable, there’s a certain joy to be found in having useful employment, as well as protection.”

“Well, maybe I’ll come around,” Isabel said, glancing at Steve. “But right now, I’m not hungry enough to lower my standards.”

“I’ll bring you someone more challenging next time, then,” Portia said with another insincere grin. “We have some college boys you might like; lots of stamina and no shame at all in them.”

“I look forward to seeing what’s on the menu,” Isabel said brightly. She could feel the slick heat along her labia, the tightening of her muscles. If Steve was in the room for much longer, her self-control – motivated by Gavin’s command – would start to crack, she knew it would. Even if Steve wasn’t to her taste, the part of her that had already transformed into a succubus wanted him for what he had to offer.

“He won’t get up until you tell him,” Portia said, gesturing at the middle-aged man. Portia shook her head, giving Isabel an admiring look. “You’ve got better control than most of the succubi first coming into their powers. You really should reconsider your position.” The woman stood and looked at Isabel expectantly.

“Why don’t you stand up, Steve?” The man rose to his feet, his gaze still riveted on her, and Isabel couldn’t help but feel a thrum of pride and desire, a jolt of hunger and a greedy thrill of need at the way he looked at her. “How much do you want me?”

“I would let her drink me dry if I could get a chance at your tight little pussy first,” Steve said blandly. Isabel was torn between a cringe and a smile.

“What did I tell you about respect?”

“You asked!” Steve looked almost heartbroken. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Isabel said, making her voice soothing. “I did ask. You can go now.”

“But–”

Isabel scowled slightly at him.

“Go. You don’t want to upset me further do you?” Steve shook his head and turned on his heel, nearly walking straight into the locked door in his haste to do her bidding. Portia snickered and followed the man, giving Isabel a quick, approving glance before she unlocked the door and stepped through it.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Gavin came into her prison-room again, Isabel’s whole body was on fire with need. “About time you came to see me,” she said irritably as the vampire closed the door behind him. He smirked.

“Sit down,” he told her firmly. Isabel, grumbling under her breath but unable to evade the command, threw herself down into the chair she had been pacing in front of. Gavin looked her up and down slowly, and Isabel felt a new flash of irritation at the amusement in his gaze, even mingled as it was with the desire she could see. “Portia came to visit you, offer you a treat?” Isabel nodded.

“Brought a guy named Steve for me to feed on,” Isabel said.

“You didn’t, did you?” Isabel raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like I had the choice to decide for myself,” she said tartly. “You commanded me not to feed on anyone that anyone else brought to me. I’m so hungry I want to eat an entire fucking table.”

“Or fuck an entire boardroom?” Gavin said.  “Admit it,” Isabel pressed her lips together, scowling at him.

“Fine,” she said, glancing away from him. “If there were an entire boardroom of men in here, I would happily feed on them all.”

Instead of saying anything, Gavin approached her. He reached out and pulled her from the chair to her feet, and brushed his lips against hers. “It’s a good thing you’re so hungry,” he murmured, one hand cupping her breast in it, his finger and thumb closing around her nipple. “I may have an opening for us to spring Oz, but it’s going to require you to be ready to feed.”

“Okay,” Isabel said, shivering slightly as Gavin teased her nipple into a firm nub. His other hand rose to cup and squeeze her other breast, and Isabel moaned against his lips as the heat that had been simmering in her body began to rise closer to a boil.

“We’re going to have to work quickly,” Gavin told her. Isabel nodded, biting her bottom lip as the cold feeling of Gavin’s hands on her sensitive, hot skin sent tingles through her body. “But we have enough time for a little teaser.”

Gavin’s hands dropped down to her hips, and Isabel tried to shake off the bone-deep desire coursing through her body enough to think. Gavin kissed her lips hungrily, and slid one hand up between her legs, stroking against her slick, silken-skinned labia. “Your transformation is nearly complete,” Gavin said, his fingertips finding her clitoris. Isabel gasped; just the barest touch from Gavin against her pleasure center was almost enough to make her come.

“Is … is the hairless thing normal?” Gavin chuckled at her question.

“Yes and no,” he said. He stroked her slowly, swirling his fingertips around the bead of nerves before beginning to rub up and down. Crackles of sensation coursed through Isabel’s body. She felt herself getting more and more turned on. She hadn’t realized that the intense arousal she’d had the moment Gavin had walked into the room, and the electric, desire that had propelled her from one end of her small room to another after Steve and Portia had left, had been almost nothing. Cold fingers slid along her labia, and Isabel moaned out as the fingers pushed into her slowly – achingly so. She marveled again at the fact that she felt so tight, her inner walls barely able to accommodate the thickness of Gavin’s fingers.

“Y-yes ... and no?” Isabel struggled to focus on the conversation in spite of the hunger driving her thoughts. Images of Gavin taking her, pinning her against the chair and pushing into her, filling her up and pounding hard and fast inside of her until he came, and then lifting her up with her back against the wall and taking her again. Pushing her down onto her knees, pressing the tip of his cock to her lips and then past them.

“Not important right now,” Gavin told her. “Tell me how hungry you are, little Isabel.”

“Hungrier than I’ve ever been,” Isabel said, her breath catching in her throat. “So … so hungry I could take you five times and still want more. So hungry I could take you and two other people at the same time.” Isabel started at the realization of the words that had left her mouth.

             “Could you now?” Gavin said, his voice low and purring in her ear. His fingers worked her, pushing deeper, rubbing steadily against her g-spot as his thumb teased her clitoris, rubbing and retreating, making her whole body tingle with more pleasure, more sensation.

All at once his fingers retreated and Isabel groaned in dismay and frustration. “What the hell?”

“I told you – that was just a teaser,” Gavin said, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “Good to hear that you’re nice and hungry, though.”

“You do know that you’re the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met, right?” Isabel scowled at him, irritable between the high arousal coursing through her body and the fact that Gavin could so readily manipulate her.

“Hungry women, all the same,” Gavin said lightly. “You should get dressed.” Isabel had forgotten that she’d never dressed after her shower.

“What’s the deal?” Isabel went into the next room; along with the shower and a bath, there was a wardrobe with all of the clothes Oz had purchased for her, as well as a toilet and a vanity.

“Oz is in bad shape,” Gavin said. “They’ve got him where they think they want him – and I said that it would be the perfect time for you to manipulate him.”

“But my abilities don’t work on either of you,” Isabel countered.

“No, but Oz, as one of your makers and an angel, has a natural concern for your well-being.”

“How about you?” Isabel peeked into the main room of her prison.

“That’s not something they need to know about,” Gavin said. “The green dress looks good on you, wear it.”

“You haven’t even seen me in it,” Isabel protested.

“I saw it. I’ve seen you. It looks good on you.” Gavin met her gaze. “Get dressed right now, Isabel.”

Her hands began moving before she could completely process the command, and Isabel fought back the annoyance she felt at that particular aspect of her new existence. She pulled on the dress, wearing nothing underneath it. Then slipped on a pair of shoes that would coordinate. “Are we springing him tonight?”

“We are,” Gavin said. “Which is why we’re on a tight schedule.”

“Am I going to lose all these clothes?” Gavin snorted.

“You spent the entire day naked without noticing,” he pointed out. “Are you really going to miss clothes you haven’t even worn?”

“I just feel bad ... Oz spent a lot of money on them.”

“Oz would rather call it a loss and escape, I promise you,” Gavin said. “Are you ready?” Isabel stepped out of the little room and into the main part of her prison suite. Gavin gave her an approving nod, and a raking, appraising look. “Remember: the only thing that should show on your face is hunger.” Isabel rolled her eyes.

“I’m certainly hungry enough for that,” she said.

“Don’t be flip,” Gavin told her. “Look hungry, and obey any commands that I give you.” Isabel stared at Gavin for a moment.

“I can’t disobey any commands you give me,” she pointed out.

“Don’t make any comments about commands I give you. You should look like you are too eager to feed to even think about anything else.” Isabel could see that in spite of the vampire’s confidence, he was tense. Okay, so he’s not sure we can pull this off, obviously. Isabel took a deep breath and made her face carefully blank, before giving into the roiling, boiling sensation of need that she had struggled to keep at bay. “Good,” Gavin said, smiling slightly at her.

He took her hand and led her to the door. The whole time that she had been in the room – the days, Isabel thought – she had not been able to imagine how it was that the vampires could come and go, but she couldn’t even access the locking mechanism. She couldn’t even recognize a mechanism for controlling the lock anywhere near the door. Gavin, too quickly for her to see, bit his thumb and pressed it to a particular spot on the door. The lock clicked and thumped, the door opened. Isabel filed that particular fact away in the back of her mind to ask about later; it was obvious to her that it would be against Gavin’s wishes for her to speak on the way to wherever Oz was.

Gavin took her hand firmly in his and steered her out of the prison room, into a dimly-lit corridor. Isabel had barely been able to catch small slivers of the area behind her room, but she quickly realized that her cell had to be in a much larger building – and probably a very old one judging by the faintly dry, dusty smell she caught as she walked at Gavin’s side. The carpet under her shoes looked worn, not quite matted, but its fibers had definitely seen better days – sometime in the past fifty years, at least. The walls were paneled halfway up, and then papered to the ceiling in print that almost looked Victorian to Isabel’s eyes as they walked briskly through the hallway.

She followed Gavin, focusing on nothing more than the need to satisfy the hunger she could feel burning through her bones, coursing through her veins. If someone was watching – and based on Gavin’s warnings, she was fairly certain someone was – it would look as though she were barely keeping up with him, Isabel thought. It would look like she was following in his wake, positively eager to go wherever he led. “Stop,” Gavin said in a quiet, firm voice, and Isabel’s feet froze under her almost too quickly.

He turned to another door, and once again cut his thumb on his sharp teeth, pressing the bloody digit to a spot on the frame. The door turned out to not be a door at all, but instead the entrance into an old-fashioned elevator. Isabel wanted to ask Gavin just what building they were in, where it was, how old it was, but she kept her face carefully schooled, and her lips pressed together to keep any words from tumbling out. “Come on,” Gavin said, leading her onto the elevator.

As Gavin led her through the building, Isabel realized that every security measure was tied to the vampires; that it would be nearly impossible for anyone other than a vampire to leave the building unattended. Even if she had somewhere along the way been quick enough to get through the door of her room before it closed and locked behind one of her guests, she wouldn’t have gotten beyond the corridor. They got off the elevator, went down another corridor, and then down several flights of stairs. Isabel thought to herself that the vampires within the building would have to have extraordinary memories to be able to reliably navigate the place.

“We are about to see your other maker,” Gavin said, making his voice slightly derisive. “Are you ready to feast on him?”

“Yes,” Isabel replied, looking up at Gavin with what she hoped was pure longing and desire on her face.

“You will feed exactly as I tell you to feed, is that understood?” Isabel nodded. “And when I tell you to stop, you will immediately stop.”

“Yes,” Isabel said. Gavin led her down another corridor and came to a stop at a door. It was more secure than the one she had been locked up behind, with panels made of some dark material over it; it looked doubly cruel, and the security for it was obviously more intense. Gavin had to bite his finger three times, and place it against three different hidden sensors, before the panels moved aside. And then he had to make himself bleed once again to get the actual door to unlock and open. Isabel took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next phase of Gavin’s plan.

Chapter Fourteen

Oz’s cell was darker and seemed smaller than the one Isabel had been trapped in. As she followed Gavin into the room, her eyes adjusted, and she looked around. She could smell the angel, a woody, warm scent under the odor of blood and sweat, but for a moment she couldn’t see him. Then, as her gaze swept the room, she spotted Oz, and her heart stuttered in her chest.

He was crouched in a corner of the room, hunched over himself, hair lank and in his face. He was naked from the waist up, his jeans spattered with blood and other substances that Isabel couldn’t and didn’t want to identify. She shuddered at the sight of the angel, and shivered again when she realized his wings were out, their brilliance dulled. “Oz,” Gavin said. “Not in as bad a state as I feared.”

The angel looked up dully, spotted Gavin and then Isabel. His eyes widened. “Oh, are you on their side now, Gavin?”

“No,” Gavin said. “Just a little play-acting before we spring you. Also, I thought you might appreciate the recharge.” Oz half-smiled weakly. In spite of the angel’s dire condition, Isabel couldn’t deny the fact that it felt as though she had a hook embedded in her flesh, somewhere below her navel, and that she was being pulled towards Oz. Sharp pangs of desire jolted through her hips, and she felt her body reacting to the two men in the room with her— desire and hunger increasing by the moment. “It may not have escaped your notice that our offspring, here, is starving.” Oz looked at her.

“Gavin promised to take care of you,” Oz said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you, Isabel.” Tears began to flow from his eyes, and Isabel stared in shock at the angel; she had never expected to feel pity towards the strong, powerful man, but somehow the flood of tears trailing down his face, even without any accompanying sobs, were the saddest thing she had ever seen. How could any of the vampires have been able to stand continuing to torture him?

“Go to him, Isabel,” Gavin told her firmly. “Make him feel good.” Even without the command, Isabel knew it would have been difficult for her to make herself hold back; but with the command from one of her makers, she found her feet moving even before she could consider the pathos of the image before her. Oz began to protest weakly, but Isabel’s new nature rose to the top of her mind, taking over.

“Shhh,” she murmured to the angel, letting her hips relax as she took the last few steps towards him. “Don’t push me away, Oz. Let me help you.” She sank down to her knees in front of him and reached for his face. Isabel brought her lips to Oz’s and kissed him hungrily, tasting his lips and tongue. A new jolt of desire coursed through her veins as Oz began to deepen the kiss, his arms wrapping around her, drawing her close. In spite of the abuse the angel had taken, his body felt amazing as ever, pressed against hers, and Isabel felt the slickness along her labia increasing, her pussy starting to tighten in preparation for the angel.

She broke away from his lips and dipped down to the angel’s neck, nipping and lapping at the skin there. Oz began to regain control of the situation, and his hands began to wander over her body, touching her through the fabric of her dress. Isabel could feel Gavin watching them, and some new sense she hadn’t had the chance to experience yet told her that her other maker’s arousal was increasing as Oz began to take over, slipping one hand up under the hem of her dress. “You’re starving,” Oz murmured. He sounded almost irritable, but as his fingers – by far warmer than Gavin’s – began to slide against her slick folds, Isabel felt the tension in his body that told her he was becoming more and more aroused.

Oz stood unsteadily, lifting Isabel with him, and Isabel moaned as Oz’s hands found the zipper on her dress. “As glad as I am that I bought this for you,” Oz told her, tugging the zipper down, “It’s annoying as hell right now.” The fabric slid down over her skin with a whisper, and Isabel heard Gavin’s chuckle behind her.

Oz pushed Isabel towards the bed, his eyes blazing in the room’s dimness. “Tell me right now what you want, Isabel,” he said firmly.

“I want you both,” Isabel replied without hesitation. “I want you both to fuck me over and over again, every way you can think of. I want to taste your cock again, and feel you come inside my pussy, and then I want you to take me from behind while I suck Gavin off, and make you both come at the same time.” Oz half-smiled.

“You work well, Gavin.” He barely glanced at the vampire before turning his attention back onto Isabel.

“I’ve been keeping her on a diet,” Gavin explained. “I didn’t want her under anyone’s influence but ours.” Oz nodded absently and began to unbutton and unzip his jeans, hooking his thumbs in the waistband to tug them down over his hips. His cock sprung free of the confining material, and Isabel’s mouth watered. Almost before she could even think of what to do, she sat up on the bed and nearly lunged towards him, reaching for the erection and wrapping her fingers around it.

“Definitely hungry,” Oz said, amusement rippling through his voice. Isabel looked up at his face as she began to stroke him. She thought Oz’s cock wasn’t quite as burning-hot as Gavin’s had been the times he had come to feed her, but it was larger, and she thought about the way that her body would adapt to him, according to Gavin. Him and Gavin at the same time… oh…. oh…. fuck… a hot-cold chill worked through her body with the image of both men taking her at once. She’d never in her life been in a threesome, and the idea of being penetrated by two men at once had never appealed to her, but she was so hungry that the thought of being trapped between the vampire and the angel, feeling them both inside of her body--filling her up, pushing against her tightness, hot and cold everywhere--was like seeing a three-course meal laid out on a table after spending a day not eating.

Isabel brought the tip of Oz’s cock to her lips and closed her eyes, sucking and licking at the fluids that had begun to accumulate there. Oz’s fingers tangled in her hair and Isabel took more and more of him into her mouth eagerly, moaning at the taste and feel of him; hot, silken skin against her lips, sharp-sweet taste, the spongy quality of the tip – it was as if she had been waiting all day for Oz’s cock without knowing it. Oz groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair, tugging lightly. “I’d almost suspect ... that you’re enjoying watching this,” she heard Oz say; Isabel glanced up at Oz’s face as she took as much of him into her mouth as possible. She could feel the tip of him brushing against the top of her throat.

“She’s a greedy little thing, isn’t she?” Isabel was so absorbed in pleasuring Oz with her mouth that she didn’t notice anything else. “Look up at Oz,” Gavin murmured. Isabel did as she was told, briefly disoriented as she struggled to keep moving and look at the angel at the same time. “Take your mouth off his cock and tell him how much you want his come inside you.” Isabel pulled back, breathless with desire and need, and Oz’s erection slid out of her mouth.

“I’m starving for it,” she told the angel.

“Beg him,” Gavin said firmly.

“Please … please, Oz,” she murmured.

Oz’s hands on her head brought her mouth back to his cock. “If you want it, you’ll have to work for it,” Oz told her, mimicking Gavin’s firm delivery. “Show me how much you want it.” Isabel went to work once more, taking as much of Oz’s erection into her mouth as she could, swirling her tongue around the sensitive flesh.

“You do realize, don’t you, Oz, that we could do whatever we wanted to her like this,” Gavin said, from behind her.

“I … fuck, Isabel ... I don’t have your proclivities,” Oz said.

“A good little succubus like our girl here,” Gavin said, “can get off just from sucking a man off. She barely kept herself from fucking a trainer. Eager little thing. Think of what a catch she would be for the council.”

“I’d rather not,” Oz said, before groaning as Isabel reached up to cup his warm testicles in her hand and began to carefully squeeze and rub them against the base of his shaft.

“Izzy,” Gavin purred. “You’d just love it if you had both of us in you at the same time, wouldn’t you?” Isabel barely even registered the annoyance she normally felt at the hated nickname; the thought of taking both men at once spurred her to even greater effort, and she mumbled an affirmative with Oz’s cock still between her lips.

All at once, Oz groaned, his hands tightening against her scalp, and Isabel felt the twitch of his cock, the telltale spasm through his balls as he came. She swallowed eagerly as hot, sticky-slick fluid flooded her mouth. Isabel’s mind went blank as she devoured the gush of come, hungry for as much as Oz could possibly give her. She worked him with lips and tongue and hand, almost milking his erection, until Oz let out a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure and relief, pulling back from her unsteadily.

In an instant, his hands locked on her waist and he threw her down onto the bed. “My turn,” he said, his voice almost growling in her ear. He pinned her down on her stomach, slipping between her legs from behind. “Beg him to fuck you, Izzy,” Gavin commanded.

“Please, please fuck me, Oz,” Isabel said, hearing the almost pathetic whimper in her own voice. She pushed her hips back, able to feel the burning heat of his erection against her skin; even without the command, it would have been easy to make her beg. She wanted to feel Oz inside of her almost more than she wanted to breathe, and the fact that he was still hard excited her more

Oz thrust into her all at once, ignoring the convulsive tightness of her body as it flexed around him. “Want it harder?”

“Yes!” Isabel lifted her hips and pushed back against him, scrabbling for a grip on the messy sheets of the bed, for some kind of leverage to give her the ability to take him deeper.

“Look at me,” Gavin said. “Tell me how good his cock feels inside you.”

“It feels … fuck! God ... god it feels so good,” Isabel said, looking at the vampire. Gavin’s gaze was riveted on the sight of Oz taking her, his hips pressed flush against her buttocks. All at once, the burning, thick heat of it slid out of her and Isabel groaned in frustration.

“Do you want it in your ass, Isabel?” Her heart beat faster in her chest with a mixture of fear and need.

“We … there’s no lube,” she said cautiously. Oz chuckled.

“You don’t need it,” he told her. “But I take it you’ve never done that before.” Isabel shook her head. “Time enough for that, soon enough.” Isabel moaned as he thrust into her again, moving hard and fast along her inner walls.

“She does seem greedy,” Oz said. Isabel wasn’t certain, but she thought the angel sounded better, stronger.

Pleasure tingled and crackled through her veins, along her bones, and Isabel gave herself up to the sensation, panting and gasping for breath, moaning as Oz slammed into her, deeper and deeper.

Oz groaned in pleasure, and Isabel bit the fabric of the bed sheets, moaning as a second – maybe even a third – orgasm began to rack her body, burning through her nervous system. Her climax intensified as she felt Oz’s body tense against her, and then again, as she felt the first gush of burning-hot fluids beginning to flood her. Isabel heard herself screaming with pleasure, the sound barely muffled by the sheets as she buried her face against the bed. Her mind went utterly blank as Oz’s climax peaked, and she sagged against the sheets, for the moment satisfied.

Chapter Fifteen

“Oh, look: she’s awake,” Gavin said. Isabel turned over on the bed and saw both men watching her. Oz looked almost as powerful as he had been when she first met him. “We have fifteen minutes to get both of you out of here. Otherwise we’re all fucked. And not in a good way.”

“She’s naked, is that going to fly?” Oz had put his jeans back on and somewhere he had found a shirt. Isabel pulled herself up, looking at the two men.

“Get dressed,” Gavin said, picking up her dress from the floor and tossing it to her. Isabel found herself pulling the dress over her head, zipping it up, before she could even think about it.

“I’d like to know if there’s any way I can get out of this ‘obey any command your makers give you’ thing,” Isabel said, smoothing the fabric over her curves.

“Not that either of us is aware of,” Oz said. “You’re sure this will work?”

“My friends are where they need to be,” Gavin told the angel. “But they won’t be there long; the council will notice.” Gavin licked his lips, looking almost nervous, and Isabel wondered just what Gavin had planned. “It’ll be dawn by the time we get to the safe house.”

“You have somewhere to stay?” Oz’s expression echoed Gavin’s concern.

“There at the house,” Gavin said with a nod. “Okay.” He looked at Isabel. “Remember, you’re hungry, you’re a thoughtless succubus who has no idea that anything out of the ordinary is happening.” Isabel rolled her eyes but nodded, schooling her face into the appropriate expression.

She watched as Gavin went through the same rigmarole with the door as he had before, blooding himself to unlock the inner door and then the outer panel. Oz gestured for her to precede him, and Gavin grabbed her by the hand, pulling her in his wake. Oz barely managed to get through the doors before they closed, and Isabel heard a low, seemingly subliminal trilling echoing through the corridor.

She almost tripped over her feet as Gavin pulled her through the hallway. When it was obvious that she couldn’t keep up with his speed, Isabel gasped as Gavin lifted her off of her feet and into his arms, carrying her with apparently no effort.

Everything became a blur as Gavin and Oz moved through the winding, twisting hallways, down the stairs, and onto the elevator. Isabel closed her eyes, the speed of their movements making her dizzy. “We’re almost there,” Oz murmured, almost too quietly for her to hear. Isabel opened her eyes again as Gavin came to a stop.

“You’d better get under cover in the next thirty minutes,” someone was saying. “And you’d better have an ironclad excuse.”

“Don’t worry about me, Kalima,” Gavin said. “Just get this fucking door open and you won’t have to think about me for at least a week.”

Isabel felt a shudder and heard mechanical, lurching sounds all around her. Looking, she saw that what was opening wasn’t precisely a door; it looked like the access to a vault, with steel rods that went into the ceiling, a seal on the edges of a circular piece of metal bigger than she was. Horizontal bars also apparently held it in place when it was locked, as Isabel saw them retreating into the mechanism of the door as well. All in all, she thought, if she wanted to secure a house of some kind, she couldn’t think of anything better to choose.

Gavin carried her out through the entry into the building, and Oz, his wings disappeared from wherever they’d emerged, fell into step with them. “Car,” Oz said briskly.

“Right over there,” Gavin said, nodding. Gavin set her down on her feet and Isabel looked around while she had the few moments to do so; the building they had left looked more like a castle than a home or a prison of any kind. She supposed that she should have figured that out from the interior. The striking, gothic structure made Isabel wonder just how far she was from home.

The car waiting for them was a nondescript sedan with deeply tinted windows, and the doors to the back opened with no apparent cause. Certainly, there was no one in the back seat as Isabel climbed in, Gavin giving her a slight push on the small of her back. Both angel and vampire climbed in on either side of her, and the doors closed with the same, seemingly automatic movement. The car pulled away from the curb in front of the vampires’ castle. Isabel looked up towards the front of the vehicle, only to see that there was some kind of solid metal or plastic wall –  she wasn’t sure – between the compartments.

“So,” Oz said, settling into the seat next to her. “Where are we going, Gavin?”

“There’s a group,” Gavin explained. “Vampires, some of the shifters, even a few other super naturals, who want to stay mythological.”

“How come I never heard about them?” Isabel looked at Gavin; the vampire smirked.

“Even when ‘supes’ agree with angels, they don’t necessarily like them,” Gavin pointed out. Isabel carefully stood, moving to the other seat in the back of the car, which she figured was some kind of limo, to be able to look at both men without craning her head.

“Whatever,” Oz said. “So they’re providing safety for us?”

“A safe house, outside of town,” Gavin confirmed. “But we’re going to have to move on at nightfall.” The car began to pick up speed.

“The vamps will be on us before we even get there,” Oz pointed out.

“I’ve got people cleaning up behind us,” Gavin said with a shrug. “As far as anyone on the council will know, I took Isabel out here so I could give her some personal training.”

“So you’ll have to bring her back?” Oz raised an eyebrow. “Not sure I like that idea.”

“I’ll have to report back within a week,” Gavin said. He shrugged as if the risks of that were unimportant. “But bringing her to you, feeding her with you after she starved herself earlier, that will work to my advantage.” Gavin smirked. “You’re going to be dead, Oz.”

“I am?” Oz looked torn between amusement and concern.

“How … how were you able to get him out without anyone noticing?” Isabel had assumed that there were cameras in the corridors, watching eyes to go with the intense security.

“That is what Kalima, Harold, and Olivia are going to take care of,” Gavin said. He smoothed his hair back from his face. “There’s a record of the escape attempt, but it won’t be tied to me; it’ll look like Oz took advantage of a brief lapse in security for his chamber.”

“So they’ll be tracking him,” Isabel said.

“They will,” Gavin agreed. “Right up until evidence suggests that he’s been murdered.” Oz looked briefly stricken.

“And how is it going to suggest that?” Isabel felt her stomach lurch at the look on the angel’s face.

“I will be bringing his wings to the council,” Gavin said steadily. Isabel’s eyes widened.

“What?!” she looked at Oz. “You’re willing to …”

“They grow back,” Oz said. He smiled. “It’s one of the most painful things an angel can go through, but they grow back.”

“Typically, the only time a vampire is able to get an angel’s wings to present to the council as evidence is when they’ve killed that angel,” Gavin explained. “As you might have noticed, angels and vampires don’t tend to cooperate. The idea that Oz would willingly give up his wings in order to fake his own death won’t occur to anyone.” Isabel considered that.

“It might occur to Portia,” Isabel said.

“Portia’s not likely to be in a position to argue the point,” Gavin said. His voice chilled Isabel almost to the bone.

“Why not?” Oz sounded almost eager. “What has happened to our dear Portia?”

“I informed the council that she was attempting to interfere with my plan to train Isabel myself,” Gavin said. “As punishment, they’ve taken her fangs, and she was exposed to a UV lamp for twenty minutes. She should be sufficiently incapacitated not to bother anyone for at least a month.” There was grim satisfaction in Gavin’s smile, and for the first time, Isabel wondered if her initial impression of him – at least, the impression that she remembered – was at all accurate. Was he any better than the other vampires?

“Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person,” Oz said. Isabel looked at him in shock. “Who do you think was in charge of torturing me, Isabel?”

“I’m just …” she shrugged. “I guess I’m not fully transformed yet. Torturing anyone seems …”

“She isn’t tortured,” Gavin said. “Just punished. As she should be. She would have tortured you.” Gavin looked through the heavily smoked glass of the window. “We’re not being followed. Good.” He looked at Oz and smiled slightly. “At least you’ll have our girl here to help you get through the pain.”

Chapter Sixteen

The safe house looked almost as ornate as the castle they had left. As Isabel followed Oz and Gavin out of the car, she wondered once again whose side she was on – whose side anyone was on, in the complicated mess her life had become. The sky was lightening slightly in the east, and Gavin looked anxious to get inside of the building the car had taken them to. Does sunlight actually kill them, or is it just bad for them?

The door opened as they approached, and Isabel felt a shock of recognition, but as she looked more intently at the woman standing at the entry to the building, Isabel thought she had never seen her before in her life. “She’s a succubus, like you,” Oz told her. “Free – both of her makers killed.”

“Get inside,” the woman said. As Isabel passed her, she realized that the fact that the woman was another succubus was exactly what had caused her sense of recognition. The woman’s blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves to her waist, and her ripe – almost overripe – body strained at the fabric of her clothes. Her ice-blue eyes glowed with a kind of supernatural heat, and her lips curled in such a way that Isabel could well imagine that any man who saw her would immediately picture himself pushing his cock between them.

Gavin and Oz both seemed to shudder slightly as they passed the woman, and Isabel was pleased to see that the magic – which she couldn’t use on her two makers – wasn’t something to which they were completely immune. She remembered Gavin telling her that with enough time spent in close quarters with a succubus, even strong vampires and angels would become susceptible to their abilities; maybe that was why they couldn’t stay at the safe house for very long.

“There’s a light-tight room at the end of the hallway,” the woman told Gavin. “The rest of the house is more or less normal,” she added to Oz and Isabel. The succubus smiled at Isabel. “Just finishing up your transition, aren’t you?” Isabel nodded.

“I think I’m almost there,” she admitted.

“Starting to get the little psychic vibes?” The woman looked at her intently. Hear this? Isabel’s eyes widened.

“Wait, I can read minds?” The woman chuckled. Gavin left them, hurrying towards the light-tight room, and the succubus led Isabel and Oz towards a small, elegantly decorated living room.

“In a limited capacity,” the woman told her. “Mostly, you’ll be able to read – from a man – exactly what their deepest desire is. You’ll get it like a feeling, or like a craving. You’ll want nothing more than to suck them off, or hold your ankles while they plow you. But over time, it’ll become clearer, especially if you spend a lot of time around other super naturals like your angelic maker, here.”

“So when …” Isabel looked at Oz, feeling almost suspicious. “When you asked me what I wanted …”

“He was testing you, in more than one way,” the succubus said. “I made tea if you’d like it.” Isabel looked at the woman up and down, wondering.

“What’s your name? And how are you able to live like this?” The woman laughed and sat down.

“My name is Moira,” the blonde said. “And as to how I’m able to live like this, well, that much should be obvious.” Isabel shook her head.

“It isn’t,” she told Moira.

“Think about it for a moment,” Moira suggested. “I can give men everything they want – their deepest desires – and, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed, I can also convince them to pay whatever I want for it.” Moira smiled. “So I’ve made a tidy little fortune.”

“But how are you safe from the vampires?” Isabel looked at Oz; he hadn’t given her any indication in their time together that she would be able to live independently.

“The current war between the angels – and some of the other supes – and the vampire council is pretty new,” Moira said. “I became a succubus about …” she frowned, lost in thought. “Four hundred years ago. By the time the vampires tried to round me up, it was pretty easy to show them that they couldn’t contain me.”

“They couldn’t?” Moira shook her head.

“The longer you’re a succubus, the more you’ll be able to control your abilities,” Moira said. “And the more powerful they become.” Isabel shot an irritable glance at Oz, who hadn’t specifically told her that. “On the other hand, the hunger grows, at least for the first two hundred or so years,” Moira added.

“It grows?”

“At the peak of my hunger, I worked in a brothel and serviced twenty men per night on a regular basis,” Moira told her. She laughed, almost to herself. “Back then it was the only way I could reasonably feed as much as I needed to. Now, of course, there are other options.” She looked pointedly at Oz. “I have to admit, I envy you your makers.”

“Did the vampires kill your makers, or something else?” Moira grimaced.

“They killed my angel,” she replied. “Darius …” she shook her head. “He was always a risk-taker, always impulsive. Someone figured out what he was and took him out.” Moira looked at Oz again. “Are you sure you’re fully recovered from your ordeal?”

“As recovered as I need to be,” Oz said, smiling. “Isabel’s a prodigy.”

“So it would seem,” Moira said. “We have another twelve hours or so before Gavin can come out. Why don’t the two of you relax a bit?” She rose to her feet. “I have a client I need to get to.”

Chapter Seventeen

Isabel stared up at the bathroom ceiling in the room Moira had given her, thinking. Oz had gone to sleep, leaving her alone, and it was still hours until Gavin would wake up; but Isabel could already feel the hunger beginning to stir deep down in her body, the need mingled with desire that drove her feedings.

She pushed the prodding need out of her mind and tried to think. So much had happened in a week that Isabel wasn’t entirely sure that all of it was even real.

Isabel absently scrubbed at her limbs, shifting in the warm, scented water of the bathtub. Obviously, Moira’s story at least confirmed that the vampire council wanted to go public, and that they were pulling in succubi as some part of the plan to that end. The angels seemed to be – predictably – the “good guys,” but Isabel thought that the common perception of angels was less than fully accurate. She shivered, remembering the rapt, intent look on Oz’s face as Gavin had taken her, the comments that the two men had exchanged about how easily they could make her do whatever they wanted for their attentions.

But how do I know there aren’t good reasons for the vampire council to want what it wants? Away from the direct influence of the two men, Isabel was able to question their motivation. Obviously, Gavin wasn’t merely interested in keeping her from being tortured and manipulated into supporting and promoting the vampire agenda of going public; he had hinted more than once that he wanted her personally.

Isabel heard movement, and turned her head to see Oz walk into the bathroom. “Gavin will be up soon,” Oz told her.

“How long have I been in this bathtub?” Isabel sat up and shivered as the water sluiced down her body, caressing her nipples on its way down. Everything had become even more sensitive, and she thought – somewhat grimly – that she could probably, under the right circumstances, get off even from literal torture, if the person doing it to her was a man. Don’t even think like that. You’re going to be fine.

“Gavin’s an early riser,” Oz said. “As long as he avoids the windows, he’ll be able to leave the room. It’s sunrise and midday that the vampires really need to stay out of; sunset isn’t as potent.”

“Everything is so complicated,” Isabel said, knowing that she was whining and not caring.

“We’re moving on to Paris, tomorrow,” Oz told her. “I’ve made arrangements. Gavin will have to stay behind. He’ll meet with us after he convinces the council that I’m dead.” Oz looked her over slowly, and Isabel could sense the stirrings of desire from the angel.

“Is it really that painful?” Isabel pressed her lips together, cringing at the thought of Oz losing his wings. “You know …”

“Having my wings ripped off? You bet your perfect little ass it’s painful,” Oz said. “It’s the most acutely painful thing an angel can go through.”

“That ... that sounds horrific,” Isabel said. She rose to her feet, and smiled to herself at Oz’s lustful gaze on her body.

“Come here,” Oz said firmly. Isabel stepped quickly out of the bath tub and nearly slipped, but caught herself instinctively, before closing the distance between herself and Oz. Oz pulled her onto his lap, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around her. “Even if you weren’t mine, I would have had a hard time letting anyone else have you,” Oz told her.

“Why is that?” Oz grinned, pressing a delicate kiss to the spot where her neck and shoulder met as his hands moved over her body, drying her and caressing her all at once.

“I chose you for a reason that night, and it had nothing to do with making a succubus,” Oz said. “Even before you were supernaturally endowed, you were amazing.” His hands cupped her breasts and Isabel moaned softly. “You wanted to give yourself up, to be loved – or at least lusted after – with hunger as deep as someone’s soul.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Isabel said, feeling defensive in spite of the current of heat running through her spine, distracting her from human thoughts.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Oz playfully nipped her shoulder – it didn’t have the dangerous feeling of Gavin’s sharp teeth, but it sent a thrill through her nonetheless. “I told you that you could only come when I said, and you …” Oz chuckled. “Your reaction to that was to try and make me come faster, so I wouldn’t be able to deny you.” Oz turned her around and kissed her hungrily on the lips, his hands holding her body tightly to his. “It was only a matter of time before someone chose you for this.”

“It was?” Isabel could feel the hardening ridge of Oz’s cock through his jeans.

“With the war going on, with vampires following angels to turn their conquests ... another angel would have found you, laid you, and another vampire would have completed the process. You’re too good a catch to have gone unnoticed for much longer.”

“Did you know it was going to happen?” Oz shook his head.

“Gavin kept himself pretty well concealed,” Oz told her. “I didn’t even smell him that night when you left. I saw him in the club, of course, but I thought he’d gone after another angel, another girl.” He rocked his hips against hers, and Isabel bit her bottom lip, breathing in sharply at the jolt of lust the feeling of his cock gave her, even through the tough fabric of his jeans.

“So …” Isabel shook her head, trying to clear it. “You just ... chose me?”

“I chose you,” Oz said. “And I’d choose you again in a heartbeat.” He smiled against her lips.

“So would I.” Isabel started and looked over her shoulder at the direction of the voice. Gavin stood in the bathroom door, watching her and Oz intently. He had dressed in a new suit, and looked as gorgeous as ever. Isabel felt the hunger within her growing; she gritted her teeth, almost annoyed at the predictable surge of need, the images that flickered through her head of the two men taking her at once. “Don’t feed her just yet, Oz,” Gavin said. “You’ll need her abilities.”

“You just want to feed on her,” Oz said dismissively.

“I need my strength,” Gavin said, shrugging. “It’s not easy ripping the wings off an angel.”

“You’re strong enough,” Oz told the vampire.

“Do you have to rip them?” Isabel shuddered at the thought. Both Gavin and Oz nodded.

“If they’re cut, it might open up questions,” Gavin said.

“Not to mention he’d need to bleed himself a dozen times to hack them off with any blade,” Oz added. “Ripping them off makes more sense, as painful as it’s bound to be.”

“But they’ll grow back,” Isabel said, making it almost a question. Both men nodded again.

“After about a week,” Oz told her. “It takes that long for them to grow back.” He made a face, rising to his feet and carefully putting Isabel down. The towel fell away from her body and Isabel caught the brief gleam of interest in Gavin’s eyes. “In the meantime, my ability to heal others will be pretty severely diminished.”

“So don’t let anyone get hurt around you,” Isabel said.

“You’ve got the tickets booked?” Oz nodded.

“They weren’t able to freeze my alternate accounts,” Oz told the vampire. “Isabel and I will be in Paris by tomorrow night.”

“I’ll meet you there by the end of the week,” Gavin said. “I’ve given Sophia the codes.” Isabel once more felt like she was profoundly out of her depth, but decided that – all things considered – it could be worse. Definitely worth seeing if I can talk to Moira more before we go.

“Okay then,” Oz said. “Isabel, you’ll probably want to stay out of the room until Gavin comes out with my wings.” Isabel’s stomach twisted inside of her, and she felt her eyes stinging with tears.

Isabel followed the two men out of the bathroom. “Go into the living room, Isabel,” Gavin told her sharply. Isabel’s feet took her in that direction, and cold chills worked through her, negating any hunger she might have felt moments before. She heard the two men walking in the direction of Gavin’s room, and closed her eyes.

Moira sat on the couch, looking troubled but resolute. “Nothing you can do about it except take care of him when Gavin finishes,” Moira told her. “If it makes you feel any better, you and Oz will be absolutely safe in Paris.” Moira smiled slightly. “And there are plenty of men to feed on.”

“I only want to feed on him,” Isabel said.

“For now,” Moira said. The blonde shrugged. “But where you’re going – the safe space in Paris – is full of incubi and succubi, banded together to avoid the vampires. When you’re with your own kind, you might find your loyalties ... tested.”

“Spurring each other to bad decisions?” Isabel remembered what Portia had said about succubi on their own becoming self-destructive.

“The best kind of bad decisions,” Moira said.

From the other end of the house, Isabel heard a sharp, cutting scream. She sank down onto the couch, shivering at the pain she could hear in Oz’s voice. “God … that sounds …”

“Oz will need you, for sure,” Moira said. “Probably for the rest of the night.” In spite of her anxiety and pity for Oz, Isabel could feel the hunger rising up in her again; she knew that however much Oz needed her, and for however long, she would keep feeding from him, and keep supplying him with the pleasure he needed to recover. “You’ll get over it,” Moira said blandly.

“I hope not,” Isabel said. “I hope I never get over not wanting people to be tortured.”

“You should spend more time with Gavin, once he’s free,” Moira told her. “You need balance, you need to learn how to be your full self.” Another scream reached Isabel’s ears from the other end of the house, and she closed her eyes.

A few moments later, she heard movement and looked up to see Gavin walk into the living room, two golden, feathered wings in his hands. “Go to Oz right now,” he said. “We’ll talk more once you’re done treating him.” Gavin closed his eyes, and Isabel saw the compassion in his face, so strange after the ruthlessness she had seen in him before. “Don’t let him dismiss you until he’s fully recovered.”

Isabel walked past him, headed to where Oz lay in Gavin’s light-tight room, and thought to herself that it would get interesting indeed when she, Oz, and Gavin were all together; both men were able to command her immediate, unquestioning obedience, and Isabel knew that there was no way the two men agreed on everything – or even, necessarily, on the most important things. She put the image of Oz’s wings out of her mind, and knew that whatever else happened, she was committed to both the angel and the vampire, and that no matter what forces existed arrayed against them, she was fully born, fully transformed into her new state. She was going to take an active role in making sure the right people won the war.

END OF BOOK 1

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Owned by The Vampire

The Vampire War: Part 1

Book 2

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 1

“Are you okay?” Isabel asked, placing a hand over Oz’s shoulder. His body twitched as her fingers spread out slowly over his bony shoulder and then retreated to the back of his neck. Oz was still in pain, despite Isabel’s untiring efforts to make sure he recovered.

“It’s just not that easy,” he said, his tired eyes fixated on the white floor tiles of the waiting room. The airport was buzzing with people, and Isabel had to admit she was terrified to be out in the public eye again, even though she knew she didn’t have to resort to extreme measures to control her abilities. She didn’t need to wear sunglasses anymore; she didn’t even need to avoid eye contact with passers-by. All she needed was the will power to block out any outgoing signals from her end, and the truth was, she was getting pretty good at it. This morning, she slipped into one of the dresses Oz had bought her; black velvet, short with a plunging neckline. Isabel honestly felt great about herself. For once, she could dress up

whichever way she wanted without having to worry about shit going down.

“Are you feeling a little bit better, at least?” she asked, playfully tugging at Oz’s sleeve. Her compassion for him was growing stronger and stronger each day. Ironic as it was, she had developed a tender human connection with him, one that she didn’t feel with anyone else, not even Gavin.

“Yeah,” Oz nodded, raising his eyes to her. “Especially after last night… you know how to take care of me,” he said, licking his lips.

Isabel felt a warmth radiate through her. How the hell am I gonna make it through this flight? “I’d let you take care of me, over and over again,” she breathed. She caught Oz licking his lips again. Trying to seduce an angel in the middle of an airport probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Besides, Oz could control his urges if he had to, which Isabel found incredibly frustrating.

“I think we should go now,” Oz said, nodding towards the gates. Isabel got up, dusted herself off and headed for the sliding doors. “Here, let me get that for you,” Oz said, grabbing the handle of her suitcase. Isabel felt that tingly sensation spread out through her body again.

This is crazy. His mere touch made her hungry. Isabel kicked herself for all the fantasies that were popping into her head. They were all so invasive, so intrusive that Isabel was finding it almost impossible to shove them out anymore. You’re going to get on this plane, and then you’re going to sleep, no questions asked. “Why, thank you,” she said, batting her eyelashes. Isabel led the way across the asphalt, following the rest of the passengers onto the plane. “52H and 52J, that’s at the very back,” she said, trotting down the aisle. She could feel Oz’s eyes on her, an instinct she had acquired through her transformation.

“And you think Gavin didn’t do that on purpose?” Oz asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Isabel froze for a second. “What do you mean?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“He knows people,” Oz said, motioning for Isabel to take the window seat.

“Okay?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Oz said. “For now, let’s just enjoy the ride.”

Isabel smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she’d travelled someplace far away. She leaned back in her seat, wondering if Paris would be as she imagined. All her adult life she had listened to her wealthy girlfriends talk about how stunning Paris was, and never once could she ever imagine being in their place. She sighed loudly, staring out the window like a little girl, and it was only when she felt Oz’s hand reach up her dress that she was brought back to reality. “Here?” she asked, rolling her eyes at him. But the truth was, Isabel was getting hungrier by the second. If it were up to her, she would let him take her right then and there.

Oz shook his head. “Maybe not here,” he said, his lips curving to a smile. “But maybe…”

Isabel squinted at him. “Maybe?”

“In there,” he said, cocking his head towards the bathroom behind them. Isabel could feel her heart drop to her knees. A million thoughts were racing through her mind; images of Oz fucking her in that tight space were starting to take over, and she couldn’t help but let out a loud sigh.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” she said, her eyes fixated on Oz’s.

“You know you want to,” he said, holding her gaze. Instantly, Isabel could feel herself succumbing to his orders. She couldn’t resist the thought of him pushing her up against the wall, unzipping his pants and taking her from behind. She bit her bottom lip, her mind conjuring up images of pure lust. She brushed a hand through her hair and brought it to one side.

“I do,” she breathed. “I really, really do.” Oz flashed her a smirk, and it was only then that she became fully convinced of his fantasy. His fantasies were hers, too.

“We just got to wait until take-off, until everyone’s asleep,” he hissed. Isabel could feel her heart begin to race. She had never done anything like this before. Sure, she heard about it in the movies, but she didn’t think you could actually do something like this and not get caught. It all sounded so surreal to her, as if she was caught up in one big simulation. But she couldn’t resist the temptation; she couldn’t let Oz down. After all, he needed her to take care of him, and she needed him, too. The hunger was gnawing at her, and she could feel that spark regenerate inside her once more.

“I can’t wait,” she whispered. Soon enough, the plane took off, and Isabel couldn’t help but get lost in her own little world. She stared out the window, her eyes following the movement of the foamy clouds gliding across the sky. She flinched when she felt Oz’s hand come over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said. “I got distracted.” She turned around to meet his gaze, and immediately felt an electric current rush through her.

“Shall we?” he asked, his head cocked to the side. Isabel laughed at how Oz tended to phrase his words as questions, when all they really were was a continuous series of commands.

“We shall,” she smiled, her eyes darting from the empty aisle, to the bathroom door, and then to the aisle again. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Most people are still awake, this is a daytime flight… there’s no way all these people will go to sleep at once.”

“Oh, you underestimate yourself, Isabel,” Oz said, glaring at her. “What did we say about your ability to control the minds of all men?”

Isabel paused for a second, confused. “Does that entail putting them to sleep?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“It entails shutting down certain parts of their brain so they’re somewhat… sedated.”

“And how do I do that?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “What if I end up putting the pilot to sleep or something?” Isabel had never been so disoriented. This was no joke: they were literally thousands of feet up in the air. What if she fucked up? Her body shuddered just thinking about it.

Oz chuckled. “You won’t sedate the pilots, don’t worry,” he said, tilting his head towards her. “All you have to do is focus all your energy on the person you want to put to sleep… and remember, you have to look them in the eye.”

“And what about the women?” Isabel asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it taken care of,” he said, folding both arms across his chest.

Isabel nodded. She waited for the flight attendants to finish distributing the lunches, and then she got up and made her way down the aisle. “Excuse me,” she said. “Can I just get a cup of water?”

“Sure,” the woman said, staring at her for a moment before gesturing for her to go back to her seat. Isabel smiled and then turned around. She stood there for a second, inspecting the men around her. She made eye contact with one and then held his gaze. For a second his jaw dropped.

No, no, no, Isabel thought. This was no time for a passenger to be captivated by her, not in that way. Okay, Isabel, just focus. She took in a deep breath and let it out through her nose. Suddenly she could feel the energy surging through her. She didn’t take her eyes off his, and then, slowly but surely, his eyelids began to droop.

“Ma’am, ma’am?” a woman’s voice sounded from behind her. It was as if Isabel was caught in a trance; she wasn’t moving, and neither were the men she tried to fixate. Suddenly they all dropped, one after the other, as Isabel finally pushed her way down the aisle. She averted her gaze to Oz, who just smiled at her, unaffected by the sedative power she had over everyone else. The flight attendant pushed past her, nose wrinkled, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yep, she definitely thinks I’m a freak now,” Isabel said, shifting in her seat.

“Now, for the women,” Oz said, clenching his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Isabel watched as his entire body seemed to twitch. She held onto the back of her chair, her eyes darting from one woman passenger to the other, watching as their heads dropped like deflated balloons.

“What even?” Isabel said, turning to Oz. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, a wry grin settling over his face.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he said. “Your transformation is almost complete, you just need someone to guide you through your abilities, because believe me, they’re a lot.”

Isabel couldn’t resist him any longer. She could feel a warm sensation wash over her like a wave, and she reached down and touched herself, her fingers becoming soaking wet as she made contact with her panties. “Let’s go inside,” she whispered, her eyes fixated on Oz’s.

Instantly, he got up, took her hand and rushed to the cabinet. It was already dark inside, and reduced to pitch black when Oz locked the door behind them. Isabel had always loved that feeling of utter and complete seclusion with him. He flashed her a little smirk in the darkness, calling her in closer, and instantly her hands found their way round to the back of his neck, her fingers slightly grazing at the base of his scalp. He pressed his lips to hers, and Isabel let the tip of her tongue rub up against the floor of his mouth in rhythmic, controlled motion. Once, twice, and a third time she slid her tongue all the way in, letting it collide with his in between her little moans and his brief gasps for air. When he was done tasting her, he slowly worked his way down the length of her neck, lightly sucking at the skin and exhaling fully in between. She cocked her head to the side, feeling her heart rate escalate and her body stiffen as he briefly slid his tongue into her ear. She could hear the little crackling noises his tongue made once his lips parted. She let out a sigh, and then she let her hands roam his chest, her fingers tracing circles around the buttons of his shirt.

CHAPTER 2

“D’you think they’re awake now?” Isabel smiled against Oz’s mouth.

“I think so,” he whispered. “You go first. We probably don’t have much time before they snap out of it; I’ll sneak up behind you.”

“Okay,” Isabel said, unlocking the cabinet door and popping her head outside. She caught a glimpse of one of the flight attendants pacing the aisle, looking as though she had just woken up from a coma. The rest of the passengers looked disoriented as hell, and a part of Isabel felt guilty for what they had done. “Have we caused harm to any of those people?” she asked.

“Nah,” Oz said. “Just some temporary memory loss, they should be okay.”

Isabel felt her heart drop to her knees. “What do you mean?” she asked, blinking repeatedly. As soon as the sunlight seeped into the cabinet, Isabel winced, feeling a blind spot floating in her vision. “Oz, what do you mean?” she asked again.

“Ah, Isabel, stop being silly, nothing is going to happen to anybody,” Oz chuckled. “They were just put to sleep, nothing more,” he said.

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe you did that to me,” she said, shaking her head. She slowly slid out of the bathroom, making her way back to her window seat. Oz looked left and right, and then he followed her, the two of them sneaking back to their seats. They leaned back, panting, Isabel gasping as a drop of fluid trickled down her leg.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Charles De Gaulle airport. Local time is 10 pm, and the temperature is 1 degrees Celsius.”

“Yikes, it’s cold,” Isabel said, wrapping her arms around herself. Outside she could see the city lights come into view, and the truth was, Isabel was pretty excited. All that apprehension she had been feeling was starting to fade away, and all she could think about right now was where Oz was taking her. The thought excited her, especially after their little episode inside the plane bathroom. Right now, Isabel felt ready to conquer: she felt ready to thrive and to be introduced to this whole new world ahead of her.

“Alright, let’s go,” Oz said, reaching his hand out to her. The two of them pushed their way down the aisle, and as soon as Isabel stepped out of the plane, she felt her lungs inflate with cold night air.

“Who’s waiting for us here?” Isabel asked, holding onto Oz’s arm as the two of them made their way through the terminal entrance. Isabel stood there for a second, utterly bewildered by what was going on around her: hundreds of people running around, dragging their suitcases behind them, people reuniting with their families, and their loved ones. Suddenly Isabel felt sorry for herself. There she was, having landed in a totally foreign country, standing amidst a sea of strangers, not knowing what her next step would be.

Oz looked distracted. It was like he was being bombarded with so many stimuli all at once, that he felt like he was all over the place. “Wait,” he said, tilting his head to the side. Suddenly he pointed to an obscure point ahead of them, and Isabel found herself being dragged towards the exit. “Analise!” Oz yelled, raising one hand up in the air.

“Oz!” the woman said, standing on her tiptoes. She had some sort of French accent, which Isabel found endearing. “Oz!” she said again, meeting the two of them halfway.

“Analise, how are you?” Oz said, raising his eyebrows at the blonde, scantily clad woman. Isabel could recognize a fellow succubus when she saw one. She eyed her up and down, and, realizing she was being a bit too invasive, looked away.

“I’m alright, what about you? Ah! I see you brought her with you,” Analise said, her green eyes boring into Isabel.

Isabel opened her mouth but no words came out. The truth was, she was star-struck by Analise. She was probably the most beautiful succubus she had ever laid eyes on, not that she’d seen many of them, but either way she was enchanted by Analise’s flawless porcelain skin, short, choppy platinum blonde hair, icy green eyes, and pearly teeth. Isabel wondered how long she’d been around and how many men she fed on each day? It must be a lot. And they must all worship her. “Hello,” Isabel said finally, feeling the insides of her cheeks dry up like prunes.

“She’s beautiful,” Analise said, flashing Oz a smirk. “It’s a good thing you’ve brought her to us.”

“She is,” Oz nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around Isabel’s waist. She jumped at the sensation, but then settled down again, smiling at Analise.

“Hungry?” Analise asked, flashing Isabel a coy smile.

“Not at all,” she lied, feeling Oz’s fingers play at the very tips of her hair and down the length of her back. She thought back to what Moira had said about her loyalties being tested in Paris, and the truth was, she didn’t even feel like feeding on anyone else but Oz. Her mind kept wandering, though. What about all those people— specifically men— she was going to meet? What if they end up starving her? What if they couldn’t be trusted? A million thoughts were racing through her mind, but one thing was for sure; whether she liked it or not, she was going with this Analise.

“Well, I doubt you’ll feel hungry ever again when you come with us,” Analise said with a sincere grin. Oz didn’t say anything. He just took Isabel’s hand and squeezed it, as if to reassure her. “Well, then, I think we should get going,” Analise said again. “There’s a limo waiting for us outside.”

Isabel had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. The car ride seemed to extend for an eternity. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the road, following it ever so attentively, taking in all the details. The car took them up to the countryside, where Isabel would be staying. In the distance she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a mansion, towering on top of a flowery hill. Even in the darkness, Isabel could make out the details of the forest-like landscape. One of the things she liked most about being a succubus was the night vision. She shifted in her seat and smiled to herself, thinking about how wild of a ride this was.

“So, Isabel, we’re going to take you up to your room, in the tower,” Analise said, pointing to the dome-like roof. The mansion was hidden largely in trees, their flowery vines dangling off the balcony of Isabel’s assigned room.

“We’re giving you the royal treatment,” Oz said, flashing Isabel a coy smile. She smiled back, but the truth was, she really didn’t get it. She had heard both Oz and Gavin talking time and time again about how special she was, how she was one of the best of her kind. But she couldn’t really wrap her head around the reason behind it all. Soon enough, the limo pulled over in front of a big iron gate, and a bunch of guards opened it up to let them pass through. Isabel was growing more apprehensive by the second, but every time she looked over at Oz for reassurance, he always made her feel safe.

“You’re awfully quiet, Isabel,” Analise said in one of the sultriest tones Isabel had ever heard. She wondered if this was her normal way of talking, or if there was something more, something suggestive, about her tone of voice.

“Can you really blame me?” she asked, looking over at Oz. “I literally just landed in the most beautiful city in the world.”

“Pretty fitting for a woman like you,” Oz smiled. He and Analise exchanged brief glances, which Isabel could only interpret as consensus over her beauty. She basked in that for a moment before realizing they were pulling over again. “Alright, well, let’s take you up to your room,” Oz said, popping his door open and stepping out of the limo. Isabel looked up, star-struck by the architecture of the place; this place she would be staying for the unforeseeable future. She followed Analise up a marble set of stairs and just stood there while the blonde beeped away at a security monitor at the front door. Suddenly, the doors parted, inviting Isabel to step inside.

“Don’t be afraid,” Analise said, her pearly teeth showing through her smile. “Follow me.” Isabel’s feet moved in the direction of the entrance, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. “Aden!” Analise said, her voice echoing all over the place. A young man stepped outside, looking Isabel up and down before his lips curved to a smile. He was broad across the shoulders, with short curly hair cascading down his forehead and freckles spread out over his face and nose.       “Hello,” he said, not taking his eyes off Isabel. “I’m Aden.”

“Hi,” she said, her eyes darting from Oz, to Aden, and then to Oz again.

“You go ahead, Aden’s going to show you your room,” he said, flashing Isabel a coy smile. Instantly, she could feel her feet taking her to where Aden was, the two of them starting up the stairs.

“So, Isabel, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Aden said, glancing at her briefly in between steps. The tower was so high up Isabel could tell they still had a long way to go.

“What have you heard about me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Suddenly she could feel the hunger tugging at her insides. No, now’s not the right time, she thought to herself. As they made their way up, Isabel caught glimpses of incubi going from door to door, rushing down the hallways, making beelines for each other’s rooms. Wow, this is totally the definition of torture, she thought to herself, because the truth was, they were all gorgeous. Isabel let out a sigh, thinking about how hard living here was bound to be. She wasn’t allowed to feed on anyone but Gavin and Oz, and that thought scared her, let alone the reasons behind it. She had grown used to not questioning them, to obeying their orders without much thought, but when something like this popped up, it messed with her head, nipping away at the logic she had structured in her brain. All these men were taking away her sanity. Isabel was going crazy just by the sight of them. Some of them were scurrying about the hallways naked, and she could swear she was this close to turning around and going in for the kill.

“I’ve heard you’re one of the freshest, most beautiful succubi of our time,” Aden said, turning to Isabel. He dropped her suitcases for a moment, dusted himself off and then picked them up again, gesturing for her to follow him down a red-carpeted hall. “You’re also one of the most powerful ones of our time, too.”

Isabel let out a polite giggle. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “I don’t feel all that powerful.”

“Oh, but you are,” Aden said with an all-knowing grin. He stopped at the end of the hall and climbed up another, smaller set of stairs. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Just hold on a little bit more.”

Isabel sighed loudly. “Am I going to have to climb up and down all those stairs every time I need something?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

“You’re going to have everyone— including me— to serve you,” Aden said. Finally, he stopped at a gold-plated door framed with velvet, and he unlocked it, letting Isabel into her room. She couldn’t help but shiver. The room was beyond what she had expected. The furniture was all gold-plated, and she could’ve sworn she caught a glimpse of some rhinestones glittering somewhere on the walls. Aden turned to her, motioning for her to step inside. “Come on in,” he said.

Although Isabel was utterly blown away by the setup, she still couldn’t take her eyes off Aden. Her stomach was growling, and the hunger was taking over her, in all its forms. “Thanks,” she said, pretending to fumble with her luggage. “You can go now, I need to change.”

“Since when do succubi need to worry about that?” he asked, taking a step closer to Isabel. Slowly, he wrapped both arms around her waist. “Honey, with us, there’s no such thing as overexposure.” Suddenly, Isabel bounced back.

“No, I don’t think I can do this,” she said, despite the heat that was building up inside of her. It was like she had been programmed, made to believe that she belonged to no one else but her creators, and in a way, she was okay with that. “You’re free to go now.”

“Excellent,” she heard a voice say. Isabel jumped when she saw Oz appear from behind Aden, a wide grin on his face. “You’ve passed the first test,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Isabel. She shook her head in confusion, and then Analise appeared at the doorway, a cheesy smile patched to her face.

“I’d like to congratulate you, Isabel,” she said. “I think you’re probably stronger than you thought you were.”

Isabel’s eyes jumped from person to person, watching them as they watched her. “What was the point of this?” she asked, averting her gaze to Oz. He was pretty much the only person she trusted out of everyone.

“It’s all a part of your training,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry.”

Isabel nodded. But deep down, the hunger was still tugging at her. “Can I have something to eat?” she asked, almost robotically.

“Of course,” Aden said, making a beeline for the bar they had set up for her. He stared at it for a second then started fumbling with the liquor bottles, picking up a small piece of crimson red satin cloth and polishing them clean. “Would you like a drink, Isabel?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know what it was about alcohol that repulsed her. She never used to be like that, but maybe, Isabel figured, it was because alcohol had always been her number one go-to for when she wanted to charm someone. And now she didn’t need to do that anymore. It took some getting used to, she admitted, but at the end of the day, she was living a whole new life, and with that, came a whole lot of changes. “I just really need to eat,” she said in a low voice. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t food she was craving. Isabel didn’t need food to survive. 

“Don’t be ashamed, Isabel,” Aden said, kneeling down and pushing aside a small, velvet drape. He grabbed the handle to a mini fridge, hidden away under the bar, and he pulled out an oversized bowl of fruit. “This is for you,” he said with a smile. “We’ll be bringing you your dinner in a little while. Pork chops, paella rice, string beans…”

“That sounds great,” she said, turning to Oz.

“Alright, well, until then, do you want to leave the two of us alone?” he asked Aden, his voice firm.

Aden nodded, turned around and disappeared into the hallway. “Well, I guess I should be going, too,” Analise said, flipping her hair back.

“No, can you wait, actually?” Oz asked, following her out the door. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something…”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Well, this is going to be weird,” she said to herself, turning around and making her way for the bar. The fruit looked nothing but ravishing, but Isabel didn’t care to touch them. She knew that filling herself up with food would do nothing for the kind of hunger that was clawing its way up inside her. Suddenly she caught a whiff of Oz lingering in the air of her room. Instantly, she felt a current rush through her. “Oh, come back, already!” she yelled, stomping her feet.

“What was that?” Oz asked, popping his head in through the inched open door.

“Nothing,” Isabel said, turning away.

Oz crept inside and closed the door quietly behind him. “You know you want me,” he hissed, stepping in closer and closer to her. Isabel could feel the heat boiling up inside of her.

“I’ve been waiting on you all day,” she said. “Why did you leave me hanging like that?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” he asked, his head cocked to the side. “It’s all a part of your training.” And then he paused, clearing his throat. “And besides, Gavin will be here, soon.”

Isabel raised her eyes to Oz. His stare was boring into her, penetrating her utmost, deepest desires. She knew what he had in mind, and, even though she was ashamed to admit it, Isabel felt the exact same way. She wanted them both so bad, and she wanted them both at the same time. “I can’t wait,” she said, smiling against his lips.

CHAPTER 3

Isabel woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside. She opened her eyes and blinked repeatedly, the room swimming in and out of focus. The light bounced off the gold-plated furniture, the rhinestones and the mirrored walls, illuminating the entire room. Isabel stretched out and rolled over, her eyes roaming over Oz’s naked body as it shimmered in the light. His skin was so pale it looked like porcelain. She pulled the covers up to her chin, the chill in the weather making her entire body shiver. “Hey,” she said, stroking Oz’s cheek with the back of her hand.

“Hey,” he said, opening his eyes. “Oh, it’s too bright in here, could you maybe draw the curtains, Isabel?”

“Alright,” she said, throwing her feet off the side of the bed. “I had fun last night.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” he said throwing the covers off and clasping his hands behind his head. “We’re going to go out into the city tonight,” he said, eyeing Isabel as she skipped back in his direction.

“Oh, I’m excited,” she said, her lips coming to a smile. “What are we gonna do?”

“You don’t have to worry about that right now,” Oz said. “All I want you to do is to kick back…” He leaned in close to her and pressed his lips to hers. “And relax.”

The hunger was gnawing at Isabel, even more than before. “I’m looking forward to that,” she breathed against his lips.

“But you gotta know something,” Oz said, suddenly serious. “Whoever you choose to mingle with, you don’t get to feed on them, ever.”

Isabel nodded. “I know, and I’m okay with that,” she said. “Is your back feeling better now?”

“It’s a bit better, look, my wings are already growing back,” he said, rolling over on his stomach.

Isabel squinted at the feathery trails running down Oz’s back. “Are they supposed to be this black at the roots?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s just some clotted blood,” he said. “When they grow out, they turn gold again.”

“Do they still hurt?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Like hell,” he said with a smirk.

***

Isabel heard a knock at her door. “Who is it?” she asked. But there was no answer. She walked over to the door. Please, God, let it not be Aden. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “Gavin!”

“Hey, Izzy,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I see you’ve coped with being naked 24/7,” he teased, spanking her lightly.

“Oh, don’t do that,” she said, turning around and walking to the bar. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Thanks,” he said. “I just dropped by to check up on you. I heard Oz took really good care of you last night.”

“As always,” Isabel smiled. “I’m still trying to get used to the whole exile thing, though.”

“Exile?” Gavin asked, almost offended. “Isabel, you’re here because you deserve to live a good life; you’re here because you’re special.”

“And I believe you,” she said, undoing her braid so her thick curls were left unbound to tumble down to her waist. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“I do want one thing,” he said, his eyes fixated on hers. He placed one hand on her hip and the other behind her back, and then he smoothed his way up the length of her spine. “You’ve got goose bumps, that’s a good sign,” he smiled.

“I’m always hungry for you,” Isabel whispered. She could feel that jolt of arousal course through her again, so she tilted her head sideways and worked her way down Gavin’s neck.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” he said, cocking his head away from her. Isabel just stared at him, confused.

“We’re going to have to wait until Oz is here,” he said, a smug look on his face. Isabel rolled her eyes.

“Did you just bring me here to torture me?” she asked, her face drooping into a scowl.

“Don’t say that,” Gavin said, brushing a hand through her hair. “Your hunger is a good sign, it means your transformation is basically complete.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to wait until Oz is here?” she asked, grazing at the base of Gavin’s scalp with her nails.

“You’re practicing your abilities on me… not the smartest choice, Isabel,” he said. “You’ll never be able to control me, although you can try.”

Isabel let out a sigh of frustration. She turned around and crawled under the sheets again. “I want to be alone right now,” she said. A part of her was starting to wonder if she’ll ever be free again. It was true that both Oz and Gavin were giving her what she wanted— her life depended on it— but what she didn’t understand was why Gavin was holding back. She had been fantasizing about him ever since she got here, and having him pull away from her like that was torturous, even humiliating.

“Don’t be like that,” Gavin said, sitting down next to her. “Tonight, we’re taking you out. You’re going to see all the sights of Paris, all the clubs, all the nightlife. You’re never going to want to go back home again.” Isabel rolled over to her side and buried her face in her pillow. As soon as she caught Oz’s scent in the satin pillowcases, she held back, getting up and making her way for the door.

“I know, I believe you,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower now.”

“Alright,” Gavin smirked. “I understand your frustration, but it’s only necessary. There has to be a balance,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, Isabel.”

She nodded at him and then slammed the door shut. Why’s he doing this to me? And what’s wrong with me? I’ve become a monster! The truth was, she couldn’t control herself anymore. It was like she was starving. Isabel was starting to think this was all one big game, a game of control. Her head was pounding, and she could feel a trickling sensation between her legs. She clutched her stomach with her hands, and then she worked her way down, her fingers dancing around her pelvis. “This is torture,” she said out loud. Suddenly, there was another knock at her door. Oz?

She rushed over and found Aden standing in the doorway, a tray in his hands. “I brought you some coffee,” he said.

“Come here,” Isabel said, snatching the tray from him and setting it aside. “Shut the door behind you.”

“Okay,” he said, eyeing her as she undid her robe and let it drop at her feet. He stepped closer to her, his lips curving to a smile. Isabel couldn’t wait any longer. She brushed a hand through his hair and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped both arms around her waist, pressing her up against him. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Isabel bounced back, instinctively picking her robe off the floor and throwing it back on.

“Isabel!” Analise exclaimed. “Aden, mind if I had a word with her?” she asked, nodding towards the door.

“No, not at all,” he said, a smile plastered on his face. “I’ll be back with your breakfast shortly.” He pursed his lips and then turned to leave, and Isabel was left standing there, humiliated.

“Isabel, what did Gavin and Oz tell you about feeding on other people at the mansion?” she asked, her head cocked to the side. A kind of Cheshire cat grin was tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she spoke to Isabel in a way that could only be described as patronizing. “Isabel,” she said again. “I won’t tell Gavin any of this, only if you promise it will never happen again.”

“They’re letting me starve,” she said. “I’m in pain.”

“It’s a test for you,” she said. “It’ll all pay off eventually.”

Isabel nodded, but deep down, she wasn’t convinced. “I can’t wait for tonight,” she said, falling back onto her bed.

“Oh, it’s going to be quite interesting, for all of us.”

***

Isabel was told to be ready by nine. She had a walk-in closet now, one that Oz had filled up with all the clothes he had bought her. Isabel had spent a good two hours trying to decide what to wear before finally settling on a shimmery champagne colored mini dress and a pair of matte crimson red pumps. “I look like a definite slut,” she said to herself, twirling around in front of the mirror. “An elegant slut, that is.” Isabel was starting to get used to looking at her own reflection and not being dumbfounded. And the truth was, it felt great. She had been waiting to go out for the past couple of days, and right now, all she wanted was for either Gavin or Oz to show up at her doorstep and take her away. She opened up her drawer and took out a bottle of foundation, squirting out a little bit of the latte colored lotion onto the back of her hand. “Gotta look a bit tanned tonight,” she smiled to herself, spreading it all over her face and neck. She took out her blender and smoothed it over her face, adding just a little bit of highlighter to bring out her contoured cheekbones. “And just a little bit of perfume,” she muttered, sprayed a little bit from the Chanel no. 5 bottle Oz had bought her. “Alright, I’m ready to go.”

Isabel made her way back into her room, sitting down over the edge of the bed and smoothing out the sheets with her hand. The door creaked open and she turned around, only to find Oz standing there, a smile on his face. “You look stunning,” he said. “Have you had anything to eat this morning?”

Isabel nodded. “I’m starving though,” she said, rather shamelessly.

Oz looked at her knowingly. “Just hold on a little longer,” he said. “Tonight, everything falls into place.”

“Alright,” Isabel said. “Where will you take me?”

“We’ll start off at the Eiffel tower, and then Gavin and I will take you to the underground scene.”

Underground? “And by that, you mean?”

“Just some clubs, where you can meet new people,” Oz said, nodding towards the door. “Now, let’s go, the car’s waiting for us outside.”

Isabel nodded, throwing a black fur coat on and following Oz down the stairs that seemed to spiral forever. As excited as she was to “meet new people”, as vague as that sounded, she was mostly looking forward to what Gavin and Oz had in store for her. Her mind kept going back to how hungry she was, but she decided she wasn’t going to beg anymore. She trusted them, after all, despite their inexplicable behavior. “Oops, sorry,” Isabel said, stumbling a few feet backwards. She had bumped into someone or something on her way down, and when she raised her eyes to look at who it was, she saw a black-haired girl with ashen porcelain skin, staring back at her.

“That’s okay,” the girl said. “Have I seen you around before?” A sudden wave of silence broke over the three of them. Isabel opened her mouth to speak, but when she realized the brunette wasn’t paying attention to her anymore, she let her words slip back into her throat. ” Never mind,” the black-haired succubus said, shifting in her place for a bit before she squeezed past them, her head ducked down and her eyes fixated on the floorboards. Isabel was stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the back of her head as she floated down the stairs.

“What’s wrong with her?” Isabel asked, hoping Oz could answer her. She couldn’t see his face but she could tell he was smiling.

“She’s just a troubled young girl,” he said, almost to himself. Isabel shrugged, following Oz out into the courtyard.

That girl sure did look terrified. It was like Oz’s presence threw her off balance, and she just ran off. Isabel ducked her head down and slid into the limo, only to find Analise sitting there, grinning.

“Good evening, Isabel,” she said, patting the cushion next to her. “Come, have a seat. You’re in for a wild ride.”

***

As always, Isabel didn’t get IDed when she walked into the club. In a way, she felt like she was in her element again. So many people dancing everywhere, flashing fluorescent lights, music blasting from the speakers. Gavin and Oz walked by her side, almost like bodyguards. “So, what are we doing here again?” she asked, turning to Oz.

“Well, there are lots of humans in here, as you can see,” he said with a smile. “Gavin and I are looking to… recruit them.”

“Recruit them?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “I thought only succubi and incubi were getting recruited?”

“Yes, and?” Oz asked, his eyes darting from Gavin, to hers, and then to Gavin again. Something about the way they were glancing at each other made Isabel uncomfortable. It was like they knew something she didn’t. “Isabel,” Oz started again. “How did we make you?”

Isabel wasn’t sure if that was a trick question. “I had sex with the two of you in one night,” she said.

“That sounded more like a question than an answer,” Gavin said, amused.

“Just tell me what’s going on, put me out of my misery,” Isabel said, turning on her heel to meet Gavin’s gaze.

“Well,” Oz started. “We want to create more succubi, and we’re going to start by tonight.”

Isabel was stopped dead in her tracks. For a second, she couldn’t really process what was being said to her. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re going to try and hook up with more people tonight?” she asked, her eyes darting frantically. She could barely hear them over the sound of house music blasting in the background, but she was adamant she must know the answer. Isabel never really liked to admit it, but she was growing a true connection to not just one, but both of them. She didn’t really want to see them sleeping around with someone else.

Oz nodded. “It’s kind of our job, at this point,” he said, rather coldly. “You understand that, don’t you, Isabel? It’s not like we want to do this, it’s just the only way we could recruit more succubi to our cause.

“You know what, no, I don’t understand,” she said, stomping her foot against the floor. “You’ve been starving me all day, and now you want to go out hunting for other people to feed on while I stay behind?!” Isabel was so angry, she could feel the hunger eating her alive. She didn’t know whether she really was developing an emotional connection with them, or if this was just the instinct talking. All she knew was that she really needed to feed on someone, even if that meant going up to a random person at a club in Paris.

Oz reached his hand out to Isabel. “Listen to me,” he said. “You remember why you’re here, don’t you?” Isabel didn’t answer. “We’re here to summon as many of our kind as we can. To come together, as succubi, incubi and angels to beat the vampires at their own game. You remember that, Isabel, don’t you?”

She paused for a second then, feeling Oz’s eyes bore into her, looked away. “But I’m starving,” she said again. Suddenly she could feel the power surge through her. It was such a foreign feeling to her, this feeling of utter and completely control; it was her instinct, manifesting itself in the form of unbreakable determination. She met Oz’s gaze and held it, focusing all her abilities on trying to get him to give her what she wanted. He stared back at her, not blinking, and for a moment Isabel thought she had him like a ring around her finger. She smiled at him and tilted her head to the side. “So, Oz, are you going to feed me or no?”

Oz was caught in a trance. His hands were balled up into fists at first, but then they fell limp to his sides. His lips were slightly parted, like he was about to say something, but they were frozen that way. It was like Isabel had cast some sort of a spell on him. Gavin reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, and then suddenly, Oz jumped. “Whoa, there,” he said, his lips curving upwards. He let out a giggle, and then his giggle turned into uncontrollable laughter. Isabel shook her head, unable to absorb what was happening. Had Oz gone mad? “You think you can control me?!” he asked, his pearly teeth showing through his smile. “Isabel, my love, you’re still a young succubus! You haven’t mastered the skills to control vampires… or angels.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. She was starting to hate him, little by little. But she knew she couldn’t. It was like Oz had her on a leash, and it was hard to get away. She could feel his eyes piercing into her again, like they were infiltrating her consciousness, her deepest utmost desires. She knew what she wanted, but she still wasn’t so brave to go out and get it. “This is all fun and games to you, isn’t it?” she asked, folding both arms across her chest. “Anyway, just go out and do what you have to do… I’ll be around, I guess.”

“This is a test for you, Izzy,” Gavin said, leaning in close to her, his face only inches from hers. “You’re going to go out there and mingle, with the promise of not feeding on anyone else here. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got some hunting to do… and soon, those people will be our allies.”

Isabel nodded, as always. “This is going to be a long night,” she thought.

As the night dragged on, Isabel was getting increasingly more drunk. She had been sitting by the bar for almost two hours now, reminding her more and more of what her life had looked like before she turned into a succubus. Except she was in Paris. A lot of men (and women) had tried to make advances on her, but the truth was, she was too drunk to respond. In her mind’s eye, she knew she couldn’t feed on any of those people, so what was the point? She was growing weaker by the second: her body felt like it might dismantle at any point. In a way, it felt like she was dying.

“Oh my God, what the fuck?” she heard a voice say from across the dance floor. Despite the loud music, Isabel could still hear the woman’s shriek. She looked over to identify the source of the sound, and then her eyes landed on a pair of swinging doors that led to the bathroom. A red-headed woman had barged outside, pulling her coat together and throwing her handbag over her shoulder. She was holding onto her side, as though she was in pain, but despite her high-pitched shriek that seemed to echo all across the club, no one really paid her much attention. Isabel followed the woman outside.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” the woman muttered to herself, fumbling with her phone. “Hello??” she yelled into her phone. “Amelie, you won’t believe what just happened.” Isabel smiled at how convenient it was that she was speaking in a language she could understand. “I’m pretty shitfaced right now,” the woman said, slumping down on the sidewalk. “I met this really attractive guy, you won’t believe how hot he was, but anyway, he lured me into the bathroom… it was pretty empty, and then we got into the stall and made out for a while… then it got more intense and the next thing I knew we’re helping each other out of our clothes.” She paused for a moment, cradling the phone to her ear. “And then he pushed me up against the wall and started kissing me… then.”

Isabel moved even closer. Stop eavesdropping, Izzy, she thought to herself. Her inner voice was starting to sound a lot like Gavin. She shook her head, trying not to let her curiosity get the best of her, but there was something about that woman, something that made Isabel eager to know what she had to say.

“He was on his knees,” the redhead said, her hand flying to her mouth. She was louder than anything else, and soon enough, Isabel didn’t even need to eavesdrop. “And then, oh my God, Amelie, he looked up at me, and I swear, his eyes were red.” She flipped her hair to the side and started fumbling with her earring. “No, not bloodshot, just red! The whites of his eyes… and that’s not even the worst part.” She placed a hand on her hip again, this time, clenching her eyes. “Amelia, I don’t know what kind of freaky shit he’s into, but he bit me and I think I’m bleeding.”

Isabel felt her heart skip a beat. She had to move in closer to make sure she heard right. “He fucking bit me, Amelia! It’s not even funny… I think I’m gonna go to a doctor… well, not now, but first thing in the morning.”

No, it couldn’t be. But no matter how much she tried to dispel the thought, it was still nagging at her, and she had no choice but to believe it. Suddenly it all came back to her. It was true that Isabel was pretty drunk, but she had one hell of a photographic memory. That woman didn’t run out of that bathroom alone. Isabel closed her eyes, and what she saw terrified her. Those broad shoulders, that stiff gait. In her mind’s eye Isabel could see Oz staggering out of that bathroom stall, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Oz? No, that can’t be,” Isabel said out-loud. She wanted to lie to herself that it wasn’t him she saw coming out of that stall. She closed her eyes again but it was still him. What did he have to do with the bite marks on that girl’s hip? Isabel needed some answers. Was Oz responsible for this? And if he was, since when did angels dig their fangs into other people? Since when did angels have fangs? “Goddammit!” She looked around and a couple of people outside the club were staring at her. “Great, now they think I’m crazy,” she said again. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out her cigarette pack. “It’s been a long time.” Suddenly Isabel felt uneasy, like something was nagging her to go back inside and confront Oz. She tried to resist the urge, but then the feeling got the best of her, and she broke the cigarette in half and crushed it in her hand. Alright, I’m going back in there.

CHAPTER 4

Isabel walked back in through the revolving doors. She looked around, her eyes scanning the place. It looked as though it had gotten darker somehow, and she cursed under her breath, squinting her way past the pivoting neon lights. “Where the fuck did he go?” she asked herself. She squeezed past the sweaty bodies gyrating on the dancefloor, only to find Gavin seated at the bar. He had been talking to a beautiful young woman with short raven black hair, and when his eyes met Isabel’s, he flashed her a wide grin.

“Izzy!” he said. “Where have you been?”

“Where’s Oz?” she yelled over the music.

“I don’t know, he bumped into a pretty good looking girl over there, though,” he said, pointing towards the swinging doors.

Isabel could feel the anger boiling up inside her. She felt like a clueless little child. Why did they drag her all the way over here if they were going to just release her in the midst of a drunken, good looking crowd? She had hoped they would give her what she wanted—

just like every time— but this time, they left her hanging. They just wanted to see how much she could take. “What did the girl look like?” she asked.

“I don’t really know,” Gavin shrugged. Isabel looked away. She was starting to feel ashamed again, ashamed of her instincts that were now so strong, so profound that they were driving her insane. “Isabel,” Gavin said, getting off the bar stool. “I promise you, this will all be over in a couple of hours, and then everything will go back to the way it was.”

“Hold on,” Isabel said, catching a glimpse of Oz barging out of the club. “Oz, hold up!”

“Isabel, come join me for a smoke,” he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and handing it to her.

“I’ve got my own, thanks,” she said, turning away. The two of them stood side by side, Isabel trying to resist the urge to blow up in his face. The truth was, she felt like she could blow up in anybody’s face, at this point. “I overhead this girl talking on the phone,” she started. “She was sitting right there, and she was talking about-”

“Let’s go back inside,” Oz interrupted her. “I think we’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He took a couple of drags from his cigarette then threw it away. “Come on, follow me.”

Isabel rolled her eyes and followed him back inside. This entire night had been a rollercoaster for her, and at that point, all she wanted was to end it on a high note. She knew Gavin and Oz wouldn’t leave her to starve, but right now, it sure felt like it. She could feel the heat rising up inside of her like flames, and with every step she took, with every moment of eye contact she had with a random stranger, she could feel her core pulsate with sheer animalistic desire.

At that point the place was full of theatrical fog, and Isabel had a hard time seeing in front of her. The lights were shining through the dust particles in the air, and through the haze she could make out the back of Gavin’s head. He was seated at the same spot, but this time, he was talking to a different girl. How many girls was he planning on fucking tonight? Isabel thought about asking if the two of them had succeeded in having sex with the same girl, but she figured she was going to find out anyway.

“Gavin,” Oz said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Gavin turned to look at him, and when the two of them locked eyes, he rose to his feet, motioning for Isabel to follow them.

“Where are we going?” she asked, pushing her way through the people on the dancefloor. She was pretty drunk herself, and the truth was, she hated every second of it. This was nothing like the old days. It was like she was stranded. There she was, feeling lost in the middle of a club in Paris, and although her teenage self would’ve loved that, Isabel pretty much felt like the world was spinning around her. And not in a good way.

Gavin and Oz stopped at a red velvet curtain next to the swinging doors. Gavin stepped in first, and then Oz followed, the two of them hurrying down a long-hidden corridor. “We’ve booked a VIP lounge,” Gavin said. “Just for the three of us.”

Isabel felt her heart drop to her knees. She could feel that surge of energy surge through her for the millionth time that night. Were they finally going to give her what she needed? Gavin stopped at a red painted door at the very end of the hallway. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a copper plated key, which he used to unlock the glossy looking door. “Oh,” Isabel said, her eyes landing on the black leather couches inside. The lighting was dim with a bit of a warm feel to it. The music outside had boiled down to nothing but a dull, distant thud. “It smells like jasmine and liquor in here,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair. “I need to be sober for this.” She walked over to the bar and grabbed a water bottle, popping the lid off and chugging it all in one gulp.

“We’re going to take care of that,” Gavin said, slamming the door behind them. Isabel looked over and the two of them were staring at her hungrily. “Take it off,” Gavin whispered, stepping closer to her. Instantly, Isabel could feel herself getting wet. She had been waiting so long for this, and when she finally found herself locked up with the two men she had been craving all day, it felt like time had stopped.

“What do you want me to do?” Isabel asked, raising an eyebrow at Gavin.

“Take it off,” Oz said, coming up from behind her. The thought of being in a threesome had been hanging at the back of Isabel’s mind for so long now, but she never thought it would actually happen. A million thoughts were racing through her mind, a part of her wondering if she could even handle it.

“Okay,” she said, throwing off her stilettos. “I can’t reach my zipper; will you help me?”

“You don’t need that now,” Oz said, smiling at Gavin. The angel placed both his hands on her shoulders and forced her down onto her knees, her line of sight directly at Gavin’s crotch.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” Gavin whispered, gently rubbing a thumb against Isabel’s cheek as her hands began to unbuckle him. She nodded, not saying a word, and worked his zipper. “Both of us, feeding you?”

Isabel pulled his pants down, reaching into his briefs quickly and pulling his hard cock out. Before she could do any more, Gavin grabbed her by the chin and lifted her so that she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Say it!” he said.

“I’ve wanted this so bad,” Isabel quickly replied, trying to pull from his grip, but he held her fast. “I’ve wanted both of you. Now. Here.”

Gavin chuckled and looked over at the angel. “I believe she’s getting better at this,” he said.

Oz grabbed Isabel by the hair and pulled her head back, but she kept her grip firmly on Gavin, stroking him. “There is so much we’re going to do to you, Isabel,” he said. “So much.”

He let go of her, and Isabel immediately went for Gavin’s cock, swallowing him into her mouth as deep as she could take him. His hand clutched her hair, and as her tongue swirled around his shaft, he began to move against her. He slid in and out, slow at first, then quicker, pushing his cock deeper down her throat.

“Look at me,” he ordered, and Isabel’s eyes shot up to his as he rocked his hips against her. She reached out and grabbed his ass, squeezing his cheeks, urging him deeper into her mouth. When he pulled out, she gasped for air, but kept her grip on him. Isabel leaned in, licking his shaft, her tongue flicking at the tip before she took him in again. She wanted more, so much more, and she quickly pulled her dress up around her waist to reveal her ass to Oz.

The angel bent down and smacked her, a quick slap that made her flinch and whimper in delight. She shook her ass at him, and moaned when his fingers reached around and into her panties, slipping between her pussy lips and into her wetness.

“She’s ready,” Oz said with a chuckle as his fingers continued playing, rubbing at her clit. She began to move against him, and when he slipped his fingers inside her, Gavin’s cock slipped out of her mouth as she cried out in pleasure.

Gavin grabbed her head again and brought her forward, pushing back inside her mouth, rocking against her with faster and deeper thrusts. She felt like he was going to tear her throat apart, but when she looked up at his face and saw the way his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, she began to suck on him harder. Oz continued his assault on her pussy, and Isabel quickly succumbed to the orgasm that rocked through her body and sent shivers up and down her spine.

Gavin clutched her fiercely, and she braced herself as he exploded inside her mouth, filling her while she desperately tried to swallow it all. She squeezed his shaft, milking him for everything he had, wanting it all.

Oz pulled her away and guided her to the couch, quickly undressing and sitting down where she could suck him off next. Isabel didn’t hesitate, scratching his thighs with her nails as she ran her tongue up from his balls to the tip, then took him in. The angel groaned as she began to work him, her hand pumping while she sucked.

She felt Gavin’s hands on her ass, and with a quick motion, her panties were pulled down to her knees. “You want this, don’t you, Isabel?”

Isabel only moaned, too busy pleasuring Oz, his cock deep in her mouth.

“Say it,” Gavin ordered, and with surprising ease, tore her panties off and tossed them onto the couch next to Oz. “Tell me how much you want me to fuck you!”

Isabel pulled Oz’s cock out of her mouth and looked over her shoulder, pushing her ass higher against Gavin’s cock. He felt like stone against her, and in her mid, she already felt him tearing her apart from inside.

“Fuck me,” she pleaded. “Fuck me, Gavin. Please just do it!”

Gavin’s lips curled up in a wicked smile, and Isabel screamed out as he thrust his cock inside her with one quick motion. She grasped Oz’s thighs hard, her nails digging into his skin as Gavin pummeled her, slamming against her harder and faster with every thrust, filling her and pushing against parts of her she never thought could be reached. Shocks of pleasure shot through her body, and she began to shake as he moved, shuddering with every thrust, her moans echoing across the room.

Oz grabbed her by the hair and brought her back to his cock, bucking his hips and sliding into her mouth, forcing her head up and down as Gavin continued from behind. Isabel felt like her entire body would explode with ecstasy, the feeling of two cocks inside her at the same time sending waves of unbridled madness through her. She was about to pull Oz out when she felt the twitch of his cock in her mouth, and he grabbed her by the head as he exploded, his groans rocking through the room.

His cock slid out of her mouth, his juices dripping down her lips and chin as Gavin slammed against her, rocking hard. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, her mind overwhelmed by the sensations she was feeling all at once. Oz lifted her by the chin, gazing into her eyes with a satisfied smile and wiped his juices off her lips with her own panties. He was still hard, and she whimpered at the thought of having more of him, more of both of them.

Isabel’s head snapped around in protest when Gavin pulled out. “Ride him!” he ordered, but she didn’t need coaxing. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was on her feet and straddling Oz. She guided the tip of him to her wetness, rubbing it against her, and then slid down on top of him. She threw her head back at the feel of him inside her, and hardly noticed as Gavin unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head.

She began to grind, hard, fast, reveling in the feeling of him inside her and his strong hands against her waist. She leaned forward, presenting her breasts to him, and wrapped her arms around his head as he sucked her nipples and squeezed her ass. He began rocking her against him, and soon she was moving in quick up and down motions against his cock, in a full daze at how incredible he felt.

“Fuck him harder, Isabel,” Gavin ordered from behind her, his fingers lightly caressing up and down her spine. “Show him how much you’ve been wanting this.”

Isabel did as she was told, soon bouncing up and down on Oz’s cock as he devoured one breast and then the other, sending bolts of pleasure through her body. She felt his hand snake down between her legs, and she screamed in pleasure when he found her clit. She grinded, his finger manipulating her until she was shaking and screaming in orgasm, before collapsing on top of him. He wouldn’t let her stop, though, buckling up against her, harder and faster until she felt his entire body stiffen against her and his hot-gush of juices shoot out inside her.

Isabel didn’t move. Her arms wrapped around Oz as she gasped for breath, her heart thumping like a rollercoaster against her chest. For the briefest of moments, she felt the world around her swim in and out of focus, as if at any moment she would drift away, satisfied and fulfilled. Still, a part of her wanted more, an inexplicable need and thirst that needed quenching, and she squealed in pleasure when Gavin pulled her off of the angel and threw her onto her back on the couch.

“We’re not quite done yet,” he growled, and Isabel couldn’t have hoped for anything more.

He climbed on top of her, and she reached for his hard cock, stroking it as he looked into her half-shut eyes.

“Have you had enough, Isabel?” he teased.

“Never,” Isabel managed between breaths, and she lifted her hips, pushing him deep inside her. She gasped as he filled her, stretching her out, and she wondered if seeing her riding Oz had turned him on so much that he had actually grown harder.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear!” Gavin said, pulling out and then slamming into her again. Isabel wrapped her legs around him as he began to move against her, feeling every inch of him inside her, pushing against her, harder, faster. She rocked against him as he grabbed both her wrists over her head, his breaths hot against her neck, his other hand squeezing one breast before pinching the nipple and moving to the next. She was riding a high, every inch of her body tingling in pleasure as he moved.

“Tell him how much you love it, Isabel,” Oz’s voice came hoarsely from somewhere behind her.

“I love it!” Isabel screamed. “Fuck me, Gavin. Don’t stop!”

Gavin growled, a deep rumbling from the back of his throat that only served to turn her on even more. Isabel felt like he would tear her apart with his thrusts, deep and hard, slamming into her with enough strength to send her into a frenzy of moans and screams. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted this to continue forever. She wanted more and more, and her thirst for it drove her mind into havoc.

Suddenly, Gavin tensed against her, pushing deep as he let go of her hands and grabbed her waist. Her hands grappled the sides of the couch as she steadied herself with her feet, pushing her hips up against him, forcing him in deeper as he exploded inside her. She felt her own body break into a series of shudders as her own orgasm burst through her, her screams muffled as she bit down hard on her arm.

Her hips fell onto the couch as Gavin pulled out of her and climbed off, and she immediately rolled onto her side. Her head was spinning, and as she closed her eyes, she fell into a deep abyss of blissful darkness, a satisfied smile on her face.

CHAPTER 5

Isabel opened her eyes and rolled over on her side. She stretched her body out and smoothed her hand over the bedsheets, feeling for Gavin’s presence. The sheets were cold, and when she opened her eyes he wasn’t there. She had spent an amazing time with him last night, and today was Oz’s day. She was getting used to the whole alternating thing, and the truth was, she felt like her transformation was complete. She was more confident than ever; day by day, she felt like she was growing more powerful, more capable of controlling men’s minds. She had noticed that the people in the mansion were multiplying, and she wondered if this was all the making of Gavin and Oz’s late night endeavors. She had bumped into some attractive men and women, but she wasn’t as tempted as she used to be. For now, either Gavin or Oz was enough for her, even better if it were both of them at once.

Isabel threw her feet off the side of the bed and just sat there for a few moments, brushing her fingers through her hair. It had grown longer, more luscious than it used to be. In a way, it felt like she had reached the peak of her beauty, with her breasts growing just a little bit larger and her waist getting just a tiny bit smaller over the past few days. Her hair was down to her hips, and she had grown used to having a long, cascading side braid that touched up on her breast and fell free at her stomach.

“Alright, let’s get this day started,” she said as she dusted herself off and stepped out into the corridor.

She hurried down the spiral staircase, the train of her dress floating behind her. “Good morning,” she said to Analise on her way down. Isabel had gotten used to life at the mansion. It had only been a couple of weeks, but she had already gotten to know the people. She had come across a bunch of unfamiliar faces on the way, and she made a mental note to ask Analise who they were the next time she saw her. Tonight, Gavin and Oz had promised her a threesome, and she couldn’t wait. The whole thing never seemed to lose its luster— Isabel figured it was just a product of mind control— but she didn’t really mind it. She was having the best sex of her life with two of the most attractive men at the mansion; she wasn’t complaining. The temptation to feed on other men was almost completely gone, and that had the power to both comfort and terrify her.

Just as Isabel was about to barge into the kitchen, she felt something tugging at the sleeve of her dress. “Yes?” she said, turning around. Suddenly she felt an unsettling feeling in her stomach. The woman tugging at her dress looked familiar. She had red hair, freckles, and wore a long-sleeved dress like her. The girl from the club.

“Can we have a moment in private?” the woman asked, her eyes wide. Isabel wasn’t sure whether she should be scared or just roll with it. She definitely recognized the girl, but somehow, she looked different to when she had seen her outside the club. Her skin was paler, looking almost like porcelain, her hair had grown longer and her lips were extremely chapped. Isabel wondered if they were keeping her well-fed, because according to her own experiences, succubi weren’t supposed to look like that.

“Sure,” Isabel nodded, following her down the hall. The woman hurried past several rooms, looking right and left, before she stopped at one of them, dusting herself off before walking inside. She popped her head out the inched open door and cocked it to the side, motioning for Isabel to come in. Isabel hesitated for a moment, but then she remembered; no one could hurt her. Hell, she was the most powerful succubus in this mansion. She lifted her dress off the floor and walked inside, taking a seat at the makeup table. “What’s wrong?” she asked, raising her eyes to the woman. There was something about the look in her eyes that was more fearful than anything else.

“My name is Ava,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m not sure why I’m here, but they brought me here… and I don’t feel like myself.” She paused for a moment, looking around her. Isabel watched as she paced the room back and forth. She was obviously confused. Her hands were balled up into fists, and when she seemed to have caught her own reflection in the mirror, she sprung back. “Can you help me?”

Isabel rose to her feet. A part of her didn’t have a good feeling about this at all. “Listen, who took you and why?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I... I don’t remember,” Ava said. “The last thing I remember is waking up and not recognizing myself in the mirror, and then I was told to come here.”

“Who told you to come here?” Isabel asked. But she had a pretty good idea of who it was.

“This man,” Ava said. “I don’t remember what he looks like, but if I saw him I’d recognize him.”

“Listen, Ava,” Isabel said, her eyes fixated on hers. “Do you remember meeting that same man who told you to come here at a club, just a couple of weeks ago?”

Ava paused for a bit. Suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth, like she had just remembered something. “Oh my God, yes, I... I remember.” Isabel watched her go through a chain reaction of realizations in her head. At one point, she was mouthing some things to herself, and Isabel couldn’t wait, apprehensive as she was, to get something out of her.

“That man, Ava, what did he do?” she asked.

“I remember,” the redhead said. “We hooked up in the bathroom stall of the club that night… I haven’t been feeling well ever since.”

“Did he do anything unusual?” Isabel asked.

“Actually,” Ava said. “He... he bit me.”

“He bit you?”

“He bit me. I remember I was really drunk that night, but the next day, I had bite marks on my right hip and it was bleeding.”

Isabel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She just needed one more tiny detail to confirm her doubts. “And that man, are you sure you don’t remember what he looked like?” she asked, hoping against hope that Ava would have something else to say.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t quite remember what he looked like… but I do remember he was quite broad across the shoulders.”

Isabel pursed her lips. “Okay,” she nodded. “I’m going to talk to Analise right now… she knows more about how this whole place operates than I do,” she said.

“No, wait,” Ava said. “Don’t leave me here, I have no idea where I am and what brought me here.”

Isabel started pacing the room. Her brain was on overdrive. If Oz was the person that woman hooked up with, then how the hell could she have ended up with those bite marks? “Ava,” Isabel said again. “Did you hook up with anyone else on that same night?”

“No,” she was quick to recall. “Just this one guy… that’s the only detail I remember out of everything that happened that night. I remember because he was pretty handsome… I even went out to call my friend, to tell her all about it.”

Holy fuck, it’s really her! At the beginning, she wasn’t certain it was the same woman she had seen slumped down on the sidewalk outside the club, but that little detail confirmed it. Only question was, where did the bite marks come from? Oz had some explaining to do. “I’m going to ask you one last question,” Isabel said. “And I don’t want to sound too intrusive or anything… but did you go all the way with him?” she asked.

“No,” Ava said. “I stopped him the second he bit me… he didn’t seem too bothered by it. I don’t remember him being rude or anything.”

“Alright,” Isabel said, folding both arms across her chest. She didn’t know what it was that was making her so uncomfortable. It was like she was missing a piece of the puzzle. One thing was for sure: she needed to have a little talk with Oz. And she needed to have it straight away. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” she said, stepping closer to Ava and looking into her eyes. The woman looked significantly weaker than the last time she saw her. “I’m going to talk to the man you met that night, he might have some explaining to do.”

“How do you know him?” Ava asked, her voice falling to a whisper.

For a while, Isabel didn’t say anything. She didn’t know whether she should come clean about this whole thing, or whether she should come up with a more convincing story. This was her life now; this was her reality. But a part of her still held onto that time when she couldn’t bring herself to believe any of it. And she knew that, if she were to bombard Ava with all of this information at once, she was pretty likely to go insane. Isabel had a hard time believing that she didn’t go crazy, herself. And she didn’t really want to put anyone else through it. But first, she had to make sure who this woman was, and if she really did hook up with Oz that night. Isabel could feel the hunger gnawing at her again, but this time, it blended in with a feeling of jealousy, of contempt. In her head, Oz was hers, and she was his. He had become such an integral part of her everyday life that it was literally impossible to survive without him. The thought of him going around sleeping with other women made her sick to her stomach, and she didn’t know why that was. Was it because she was secretly afraid she would starve if he didn’t make time for her? Or was there something else? Was it something deeper, almost like a connection that she felt for him? Or was it all just a game of mind control? Isabel didn’t even know anymore, and she figured that, if she wasn’t sure herself, then she shouldn’t be putting anyone else through it, either. “I know him from around here,” Isabel said finally, trying to gather her thoughts. “Alright, Ava, do you want me to get you something to eat?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Ava said. “But I don’t want you to leave me here, if that’s okay.”

Isabel nodded. “Alright, I’ll take you to the main kitchen downstairs,” she said, reaching her hand out to Ava. “I don’t want you to be afraid. I know it’s confusing, but everything will fall into place, it’s only a matter of time.” The truth was, she didn’t know what else to say. The girl looked completely petrified. Every now and again, she would turn to look at herself in the mirror. She would run her pointer finger along her jawline, brush a hand through her hair and then start stroking the side of her face with her thumb. She would move in closer, inspecting her now flawless skin, searching for any pimples, any blemishes, anything to remind her of the girl she once was. Isabel just stared at her, and all at once she was reminded of that dark time in her life, when she didn’t even know who she was anymore. She wanted so desperately to tell Ava that it was pointless, that her body would never go back to the way it was. But she couldn’t. She decided she was just going to let her figure it out on her own. They stepped out of the room, Isabel taking Ava’s hand as they walked down the hall and hurried down the stairs. On her way down, Ava was scanning the sea of faces around her, desperate to make out a face she knew. But it was useless. She was never going to bump into someone she knew in a place like this.

“I’m not comfortable,” she said, her voice trailing off.

“What?” Isabel asked, holding onto her hand. She could feel Ava stop dead in her tracks, and when she turned around, she found her completely petrified, like she had just seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?” Isabel asked, her eyes darting back and forth frantically.

“Good morning,” Oz said, appearing at the stairway. He had an unusual glow about him, like he had been expecting to see Isabel with Ava. “I see the two of you have met,” he said with a smirk on his face.

“I... I want to get out of here,” Ava said, turning away and trying to squeeze past the people behind her.

“No, no, wait,” Isabel said, trying to grab hold of her wrist. The girl stumbled a few steps, almost falling to the floor, but then she rose to her feet again and hurried in the opposite direction back to her room. “What was that?” Isabel asked, turning to Oz. “What did you do to her?”

Oz stared at Isabel knowingly. “Doesn’t she remind you of yourself not so long ago?” he asked, his pearly teeth showing through his smile. Isabel almost found it disturbing, but she nodded regardless.

“She does,” she said. “But there’s something different about her… and besides, she said she only hooked up with you.”

Oz’s face drooped to a scowl. Isabel could sense that he was taken aback. “She was drunk,” he said, clenching his jaw. “I don’t think she remembers much.”

“But so was I when I first slept with you and Gavin,” Isabel said, shaking her head. “I woke up the next day and I remembered everything.” She paused for a second, clearing her throat. “Well, maybe not everything, but I was at least able to recall that I had slept with not one, but two men.”

Oz let out a sigh. “Isabel,” he said. “Not everyone is able to regain full recollection when they’re sober. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Yeah,” Isabel said, shrugging. But she still wasn’t convinced. Despite Oz’s great ability to control her thoughts, there was something about the way Ava reacted to him that made Isabel’s stomach churn. “So, has she began her transformation into a succubus? Does she need Analise to brief her on what’s gonna happen? I don’t want her— or anyone in this house— to go through this alone… it can be a very scary process,” Isabel said, sighing.

“She’s begun her transformation,” Oz said. “I’m going to call Analise to sit with her, just like she sat with you, and she’s going to explain everything to her.”

“I can sit with her,” Isabel said.

“No,” Oz shook his head. “Analise will take care of it.” There was a pause. Isabel wondered why he was being so secretive about this, but she didn’t want to start a fight. After all, she was getting hungry, and although she hated that her life practically depended on two people, she realized she basically had no choice but to roll with it.

“Alright,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I’ll come back to check up on her, though. She seemed pretty distressed.”

“You can do whatever you want, Isabel,” Oz said. “This mansion is your safe place, you’re free to interact with the people however way you wish.” Isabel thought she would talk to Gavin about this, but until then, she was going to keep a close eye on this girl.

***

The mansion was starting to fill up with unfamiliar faces. When Isabel first moved in, there was probably half the number or people— or succubi— that there were now. But there was something different about them. Isabel couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the way they looked, the way they dealt with each other, was foreign to her. She hadn’t seen Ava in a while, and for some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about her. That horrified look on her face when she saw Oz, the way she was so sure that she hadn’t even slept with another man on that night. Isabel still wanted answers, and she still didn’t know how to get them.

Isabel was just starting her day. As always, she took a shower, threw her silk robe on and walked downstairs, eager to find Gavin. She had been closer with Oz lately, and she was starting to crave Gavin’s company. “Oh, hey,” she said, bumping into Analise on her way down. “I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Of course,” she said. “Anything you need.”

“Okay, well, it won’t take too long, but there’s a girl here, she’s new I think, and she… I don’t know how to describe it. She seems a little off.”

Analise pursed her lips. “And who would that be?” she asked, her head cocked to the side. For a moment, Isabel hesitated. Analise looked flustered, like she had somewhere to be.

“Her name is Ava?” Isabel asked.

“Ah, Ava!” Analise said, her lips curving upwards. “She’s new here, what about her?”

“I don’t know, she looks kind of traumatized, to be honest.”

Analise let out a sigh. “You know, sometimes, new succubi don’t cope that well at first. You of all people should know that, Isabel,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I, I know that, but she didn’t seem to be coping the same way I did. Like, at all,” Isabel said, shifting her weight to one leg. “I’d like you to sit down and talk to her, the same way you talked me through my transition.”

Analise stared at her knowingly, and when Isabel didn’t seem to move, she let out a sigh, a grin settling back on her face. “Alright,” she said. “I’m going to talk to her, I promise you.”

Isabel flashed Analise a sincere smile and then walked away. In the back of her mind, the fearful look in Ava’s eyes lingered, and she made a promise to herself that she would get to the bottom of this.

CHAPTER 6

The newcomers were still rolling in. Not a day passed by without Isabel waking up to the sound of people moving into the rooms below. She had made a routine of jerking out of bed, rushing downstairs to see who it was, and being absolutely taken by how different they looked to everybody else. But soon enough, the newcomers were everybody else, or at least they seemed to have outnumbered the people who Isabel thought were everybody else. They all had pale, almost white, porcelain skin, long straight dark hair and bloodshot eyes. The more Isabel looked at them, the more she realized they all looked the same. She had asked Gavin about it time and time again, but he never seemed to give her a definite answer. “It’s all a part of their transformation, it’s like when you’re still an infant and your skin has that purple tinge to it, it gets better over time,” he would say to her. What Isabel was worrying about, though, was Oz. There was something different about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it almost seemed as if he shifted characters whenever he was with her. He had developed a nervous tick that emerged whenever the two of them had sex, one that made his neck jerk violently to the side. Something was off. She had tried talking to him about that, too, but he never really gave her an answer, either. Isabel was starting to think that maybe life at the mansion wasn’t as easy or luxurious as she thought it was.

“Good morning,” she said, strutting down the hallway to check on the newcomers. But no one answered her. For some reason, everyone looked like zombies: unresponsive, pale-skinned, almost catatonic. In the distance, Isabel caught a glimpse of Analise, so she ran to her. “Analise, hi,” she said, faking a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Analise said, not looking at Isabel. “Hey, hey, this window’s sealed shut, stop trying to open it, you’ll break it, please,” she snapped, diverting her gaze to one of the newcomers. Sealed windows? That’s new, Isabel thought to herself. It was like they were treating those succubi like animals. Analise had her arms folded across her chest, gawking at the newcomers as they unpacked their things. “Whoa, whoa, be careful, over there,” she said again. “Sorry, Isabel, I’m a bit distracted right now, can I meet you later?”

“Sure,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. She turned around to leave, and then she remembered Ava. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to resort to someone else for answers,” she said to herself.

Isabel knocked on Ava’s door and it swung open. She raised her eyes to the person standing at the door, only to realize it wasn’t Ava. “Hello,” Isabel said, tilting her head sideways. “Is Ava there?”

A tall, curvaceous ginger haired girl stared back at her with glassy eyes. “Do I know you?” she asked, almost robotically.

“No,” Isabel shook her head. “I thought this was Ava’s room?”

“I’m not sure,” the girl said, narrowing her eyes at Isabel. There was something about her that made Isabel’s skin crawl. She paused for a second, her eyes fixated on the hallway, darting from one passerby to the other. “Oh,” she said again. “You mean the redhead?”

“Yes, the redhead,” Isabel nodded. “She used to live here?”

“They moved her to another room, I think,” the girl said with a low voice. “She stirred up some problems.”

“Problems?” Isabel asked, worried. “What kind of problems?”

“I don’t know,” the ginger replied, shaking her head frantically. “I don’t know, don’t ask me these questions or they’ll do to me what they did to her.”

“Who are you talking about and what would they do to you if you talked?” A million thoughts were racing through Isabel’s mind. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. Suddenly, the door slammed shut, and Isabel was left with nothing but more questions. She could’ve sworn she saw a pair of black wings protruding from the hem of the girl’s dress, but she thought it was all in her head. She just stared at the closed door, her mind blowing up with alternate scenarios. Who was this girl? And what have they done to Ava? Who were “they” to begin with? Isabel stamped her foot and hurried down the other end of the hallway, determined to find Analise again, but when she got there, Analise was gone. “This is one big ass mansion,” Isabel said to herself. There was little to no chance she was going to find Analise again on the same day.

Isabel turned around to leave, only to bump into Gavin. “Whoa, you’re in a hurry,” he said, his pearly teeth flashing through his smile.

Isabel opened her mouth but no words came out. She decided she wasn’t going to say a thing. If she was going to get to the bottom of this, then she was going to do it herself. “Sorry about that,” she said, the corners of her lips curving upwards. “I’m just kind of in a hurry.”

“Well, I hope we’re on for tonight?” Gavin asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Sure,” Isabel said, patting him on the shoulder and then squeezing past him. “I’ll catch you later.”

Gavin didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. For the first time, Isabel didn’t display any signs of uncontrollable hunger, and neither did she show any enthusiasm at the mentioning of sex. Was she growing immune to Gavin’s mind control? Were they doing something wrong? Gavin took in a deep breath and let it out through his teeth. Something was going horribly wrong. Isabel wasn’t easily tamed anymore, and soon enough, she would be able to resist mind control if they didn’t stop her. Something had to be done. Gavin waited until Isabel disappeared around the corner and then he went after her.

“Um, hi,” Isabel said to one of the newcomers. He turned to her, his ashen skin almost glowing in the light. “I was wondering if you’ve seen Ava? She used to live on this floor,” Isabel asked, her eyes fixated on his.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, fumbling with a pair of dice. Isabel peered into his room, catching a glimpse of a bunch of girls sitting on the bed with some sort of board game spread out in front of them. She smiled when one of them got up and popped her head out the door.

“Hello,” she said. “I think I know who you’re talking about.”

“You do?” Isabel asked, her eyes lighting up. “Have you seen her recently?”

Immediately, the girl’s face dropped to a scowl. She stepped outside, motioning for her roommate to leave the two of them alone, and then she slammed the door shut, her eyes searching Isabel’s. “Listen,” she said. “I didn’t want to say anything, but they took Ava, I saw it happen in front of me.”

“Who took her? And what did you see?” Isabel asked, her eyes darting back and forth frantically.

“Ava was acting up… she found out what they’re doing to us, so she spoke up. And then this woman, I think her name was Analise, came and took her.”

Isabel’s heart skipped a beat. A part of her wanted to ask more questions, to listen till the girl was done talking, but something told her that the more she listened, the more confused she would get. This mansion was all she knew, all she lived for, and now things were changing. Something was happening, something hideous, and Isabel was scared to uncover what it was. “Where did they take her?” she asked beseechingly.

“I overheard Analise talking about the chambers,” the girl said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “They took her there, she was kicking and screaming, and they took her there…”

“Hey,” Isabel said, placing a hand over the girl’s shoulder. “Do you know where the chambers are?”

She shook her head. “No, but there is speculation… some say they’re underground, some say that only one room has access to them… I really have no idea.” She paused for a moment, inspecting their surroundings. “But I want you to be careful,” she hissed. “You don’t want them taking you there, it’s an ugly place, I hear.”

Isabel nodded, and then the girl retreated back into her room and slammed the door shut. “What the fuck was that?” she muttered to herself, turning around and making her way for the stairs. She had been skeptical of what was going on for a long time now, but it was only when Ava went missing that Isabel truly start to believe that something was horribly, horribly wrong. As she hurried down the stairs, she caught a glimpse of Analise again. Isabel could feel her feet carrying her to where Analise was going, and she found herself following in zigzags between hallways and tiny little corridors that Isabel has never seen before. She was pretty careful, though. Every now and then she would stop for a couple of seconds, waiting for Analise to disappear, and then she would start following her again. Analise was pretty quick. She flew down the last set of stairs, and then finally, she disappeared into a dark hallway with cement walls. Isabel stopped dead in her tracks. She looked around her; all she saw were cement walls, part bare wire, part red brick. It was almost pitch black in there; a part of the mansion Isabel had never seen before. She let out a sigh, and when she felt a hand come over her shoulder, she jumped back, her heart feeling as though it would burst out of her chest.

“Isabel? What are you doing here?” Gavin asked.

Isabel didn’t say anything. Her eyes were darting from Gavin, to the shadows dancing on the walls, and then to Gavin again. She could feel his eyes boring into her, his glare almost deadly. He tried to smile but it looked fake as hell, and Isabel would have made a run for it, if it weren’t for the immense amount of control that Gavin was imposing on her. “I, I,” she stuttered, trying to figure out what to do. Her brain was on overdrive. She felt like this was some kind of uncharted territory, somewhere she wasn’t supposed to trespass. In a way, she felt like she had uncovered something, something that was better off left alone.

“How did you even make it all the way here?” Gavin asked. “Isabel, dear, you’re not supposed to be here, only Analise and I have access to this place.”

The more Gavin rambled on, the more Isabel became convinced that she had to get to the bottom of this. Something was off. There she was, namely the most powerful succubus of her time, and there were places in this mansion that she knew nothing about, hidden places. The very idea of there being an entirely different world underground made her stomach churn, and she figured that, if she was going to go on living the life she was living, then she had to be aware of everything that went on around her. Right now, it felt like she knew nothing. “Gavin,” Isabel said finally. “Let me pass.” She tried to squeeze past him but he stopped her, so she just stood there for a moment, straightening herself, trying to gather her thoughts. “Gavin,” she said again, her voice firm this time. “I said, let me pass.”

“Who do you think you are?” he asked, leaning in close to Isabel. His face was only inches from hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath colliding with her skin. It made her sick. “You think you know everything?” he asked. “Izzy, my love, you know nothing.”

Isabel stumbled a few steps back. Suddenly she felt out of breath, like Gavin was sucking the life out of her. His eyes were piercing hers, demanding that she take a step back. But she wasn’t having it. “I’m not leaving,” she hissed. “I’m not leaving until I figure out what the fuck is going on.” Suddenly she could feel a gush of energy surge through her. She felt powerful, like something had stripped her of all her fear.

“You’re still new to this world,” Gavin whispered, brushing Isabel’s cheek with the back of his hand. “It can get ugly sometimes, and it’s still too soon for you to find out about the ugliness of this world… embrace your naivety, honey, embrace it.”

“Stop treating me like a child,” Isabel said, pushing his hand away. At that point, she was just plain furious. She hated it when Gavin babied her; he tended to do that a lot. “Is Analise in there?” she asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me what she’s doing in there? I need to know what’s going on or I’ll go absolutely mad,” Isabel said, trying to hold back the tears. Suddenly she felt weak again. The more Gavin exercised his powers on her, the weaker and more vulnerable she got. She thought she would get stronger with time. She thought she would be able to resist his powers. “Alright,” she said finally. “I’m sorry.”

Gavin nodded at her, and not long after Analise appeared again. When her gaze met Isabel’s, she stopped abruptly. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her head cocked to the side. “You must get out, right now.”

“Analise, where’s Ava?” Isabel asked, pushing past Gavin and just standing there, not taking her eyes off the blonde. Her emotions were all over the place; one second she was confident, the next second she felt helpless, like the working of some impenetrable force was taking her over. 

“Ava?” Analise replied, confused. “Oh, you mean the redhead?” In the distance Isabel could hear voices, like little cries for help. They echoed everywhere, and Isabel wondered if it was all in her head.

“What is that?” she asked, scanning the room around them with her eyes. “What’s that sound?”

“What sound?” Gavin asked, his eyes darting from Isabel, to Analise, and then to Isabel again. “Izzy, you’re not feeling well, let me take you to your room.” For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Isabel didn’t know if it was Gavin who was making her feel this way, or the voices. Either way she felt like her head was going to explode; suddenly every muscle in her body felt fluid, her arms falling limp to her side.  

Isabel’s eyes dropped to the floor. Those voices were making her weak. She wrapped her arms around herself and started shivering, motioning for Gavin to lead the way. “Get me out of here,” she hissed.

“Are you feeling alright, Izzy?” he asked, a smile settling back on his face. Isabel wondered if he felt any empathy towards her at all. It was like he wasn’t half the man— or vampire— that she thought he was and that scared her.

“I’m okay,” she whispered through her teeth. But in reality, everything was spinning. It was like Gavin had a tight grip on her, and she was finding it hard— almost impossible— to escape. Her powers were diminishing, and she felt herself shutting down. “I just need to lay down for a while,” she said, turning around and starting up the stairs.

“Wait,” Gavin said. “Analise, take her up to her room.”

“Will do,” she said, reaching her hand out to Isabel. The couple exchanged glances before Analise led the way up the spiral stairs. Isabel was slow— painfully slow— like she had taken a bullet to her knee. She could feel the strength of Gavin’s powers penetrating through her, ordering her to back off, so she did. She followed Analise up the stairs to her room, and when they finally reached her floor, she could feel the insides of her cheeks drying up like prunes.

“I need water,” she breathed.

“Are you out of breath?” Analise asked, placing a hand over her shoulder.

Isabel nodded. She unlocked the door to her room and stepped inside, sitting down over the edge of her bed and watching as Analise fumbled with some glasses on her bedside table. Her fingers tightened against the mattress edge; she knew Analise was hiding something, and she needed to find out what it was.

“Here,” she said, handing Isabel a full glass of water.

Isabel inspected it for a moment before downing it all in one gulp. Suddenly she felt drained of all her energy, but she wasn’t giving up. Deep down she knew that something was wrong, that she needed to find out who was down there. There was no way she was being delusional when she heard those screams; they were real, they were real and they were haunting her.

“Do you feel better now?” Analise asked her. “You don’t seem very well… do you want me to call you a doctor?”

Isabel shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Alright, I’m going to get going now, I’ve got some matters to attend to.”

Like what I thought I heard down there? Isabel nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you soon,” she breathed.

Analise flashed her a smile and then turned away, the train of her dress floating behind her as she left the room. Isabel buried her head in her pillow, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “This is a nightmare,” she mumbled under her breath. She felt sick, like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest. Finally, she lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. The hunger didn’t rise up in her anymore, but she knew it would strike again. Isabel closed her eyes. Maybe by sunrise she would feel better.

CHAPTER 7

The sunrise spawned a strange sense of confidence in Isabel. She jumped out of the bed and opened her door, only to find Aden standing in the next room. “Hello,” she said, her lips curving to a smile.

“Isabel,” Aden said, gawking at her with bloodshot eyes. Isabel stopped to look at him, and it was only then that she realized he looked hideous.

“Aden,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “You look… tired.”

“Listen, you’ve got to do something about this, they promised they would enable us… but I don’t see it happening, not one bit!” he hissed, grabbing onto the edge of the bar. Isabel was pushed up against the marble counter, and for the first time, she felt like she was in danger. She could hear his nails clawing at the bar surface: it made her cringe.

“Do something about what?” she asked, obviously confused. “Listen, I’ve been going crazy since yesterday, I don’t know what you— or anyone else— is talking about! I don’t know anything!”

“Well I want you to know this,” Aden said, his voice boiling down to a sinister whisper. “Gavin isn’t trying to enable the succubi, and Oz isn’t an angel either… they’re both trying to control you, to distract you from what’s really happening, and you’re falling for it!”

“Oz isn’t an angel? What are you talking about? Please, I don’t understand,” Isabel cried, trying to stay collected but failing miserably. “I haven’t been seeing him around lately, I’m getting worried.”

“Oh, you need to choose who you worry about,” Aden snapped. “You better start with yourself.” He turned around to leave, but Isabel stopped him.

“Please, just tell me where to look, you can’t just throw that at me without explaining shit,” she said, tugging at his sleeve.

“You know where to look, you know because you were told where to look… you were just there last night,” he said. Isabel watched him run off, and so she followed him. She flew down the stairs, taking them flight after flight after flight, until she reached the basement. Surprisingly, there was no one around, not even Analise. She marched down the narrow path, the cement floors cold against her bare feet. Finally, she heard those screams again.

“Help, help!” one of the voices said. Isabel cocked her head to the side and listened. “Help, help!”

“Oh my God,” she whispered under her breath. She held onto the iron bars blocking the entrance, squinting at the shadows playing on the walls. “Isabel, is that you?” a familiar voice called.

“Who is this?” she called out. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“It’s Oz.”

Isabel froze. She looked around her, and when she was sure that no one was there, she turned back, trying to make out the source of the noise. She couldn’t see Oz, but she knew he was there. “Oz?” she asked. “Are you in there?”

“Isabel, listen to me,” the voice said. “You know me, I’m Oz, but the man you’ve been with for the past couple of months, he’s not me.”

“Then who is he?” Isabel asked, her voice trembling.

“He’s a shape shifter.”

Isabel could feel her heart drop to her knees. “A what?” she asked.

“A shape shifter,” the voice said again. “Isabel, Gavin tricked you. He led you to believe that I would be the one escorting you to Paris, but he brought someone else.”

“And who’s that someone?” she asked, grabbing onto the iron bars.

“Mikael,” he said, his voice trailing off. “He’s one of the few shape shifters left of our time… his job was to replace me while I rot here.”

“And what good would that do?” Isabel asked, feeling more lost than ever.

“Gavin, he’s not on our side,” Oz said. “He’s on the vampires’ side… he lied to you that he could reel you into joining his army! He’s trying to control the succubi, all while recruiting more and more vampires to his cause.”

“So Gavin’s just going around turning people into vampires?” Isabel asked, her eyes wide.

“Yes, and it’s not just him,” Oz said. “It’s Mikael, too.”

“And you? What did he do to you?” Isabel asked, trying to hold back the tears. Suddenly she felt her entire world collapse. Everything she thought she knew was fading away, and she was only left with one distorted version of the truth. She wanted Oz to speak up, and she wanted him to do it right now. There were so many missing pieces to this puzzle; Isabel was done hearing lies. “Oz, what did he do to you?” she asked again.

“This whole thing about tearing my wings off, it was a lie! Gavin just ended up sedating me and throwing me in here while Mikael did his job. He went around convincing everyone—including you— that he was me.”

Suddenly Isabel remembered Oz’s wings, how they had been dark at the roots. It all came back to her, it all made sense. Something was off, and it had been off for a very, very long time. Mikael was a shape shifter, and he was going around in his vampire form, turning other people into vampires so they would multiply in numbers. That explained everything. It even explained why the newcomers at the mansion looked so different. Gavin’s efforts at convincing Isabel that he was trying to build an army of succubi was just a pathetic attempt at buying himself some time. “And these vampires, what do they want?” she asked, shaking.

“Complete and utter destruction,” Oz hissed. “They want to wage a war with humanity, they want us to be known.”

And suddenly it all came back to Isabel. All this talk about vampires, about how they wanted to wage war against humanity, it all swam into view again before her eyes. It all made sense. Gavin was a liar, and Oz had fallen for it. And Analise? Who was she? “Analise,” Isabel whispered. “How’s she a part of this?”

“She’s a succubus, just like you,” Oz hissed. “Gavin birthed her decades ago with another angel, she’s been under his spell ever since… she does everything he tells her to do. They’ve been running this place for a long time.”

“And how do we stop them?” Isabel asked, tears gathering in her eyes. She felt hopeless, like she had gained access to this world when it was already too late. The vampires were taking over; Isabel already felt defeated. Who knew how much damage was already done? She had to find a way to stop this: it was her responsibility.

“This is why you’re here,” Oz said. “You’re one of the youngest succubi, and the most powerful… it has been prophesized that you will come along and reverse all the damage that was done.”

“And how will I do that?” Isabel asked, her grip around the iron bars tightening.

“You will have an ally,” Oz said, his voice growing weaker, more vulnerable. “And he will guide you through it.”

“And who’s the ally? Please, I need answers!”

“I can’t tell you who they’ll be… I swore an oath but in time, you’ll have all the answers you need.”

“Oz, I don’t know if I can do this,” Isabel muttered. “I don’t feel half as experienced as I’m supposed to be!”

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said, his voice frail. “With time…”

Isabel’s mind was racing in all sorts of directions. Suddenly she didn’t know who to trust anymore. If shape shifters were in the game, then how was she supposed to identify them? How would she know a shape shifter when she saw one? Isabel was going crazy. She wanted to ask Oz all sorts of questions, but she couldn’t quite gather her thoughts to lay them all out in front of him. In the distance, she heard voices, and it was like they were calling out to her. She clutched the iron bars, her knuckles glowing white. Her hands felt like they were glued to the metal, like they would break it apart at any second. She felt a force rush through her, and then suddenly, without warning, she could feel the iron bars move apart, making way for her to enter. “Oh my God,” she said to herself, her eyes fixated on the little passageway she has created for herself.

“It’s only normal,” Oz said, his voice coming to life again. “Your powers will intimidate you at first, but then you’ll make peace with them, they will drive you.”

Isabel could feel the power surge through her. Her desire to feed was manifesting itself in her strength, and for the first time, she felt like she could do anything. She wasn’t just namely the most powerful succubus there is, but this time, she actually felt like it. “I’ve never felt so confident,” she said, stepping in through the iron bars. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“No,” Oz said. “A battle is brewing, you’re not going to get us out in time.”

Isabel turned around and she saw Ava, curled up in the darkness of her cell. “Ava, Ava,” Isabel whispered, reaching out and touching her. She flinched awake, and when she realized it was Isabel, she smiled weakly. “What are you doing here?” Ava asked, crawling on all fours and resituating herself at Isabel’s feet. Her black wings were clearly visible now, and they looked frail, almost broken.

“I’m here to save you,” she whispered. “It’s only a matter of time before I get you out of here,” she said. There was a pause. “What happened to you, Ava?”

“I walked in on Gavin and Analise… I overheard them talking about a battle. When Analise turned around, I was there. I was shocked. I didn’t want to be a part of this, and I think I made it quite clear. A “rebel”, they called me, and before I could run away, they took me, and they brought me here.”

“And what kinds of things do they do to you in here?” Isabel asked, scared. But no one answered her. She could tell by the looks on their faces that they were being tortured.

“The unspeakable,” Oz hissed. “They starved us, and beat us. Isabel, they tore my wings off, don’t you remember? And I went through all this pain because I thought they were doing it for the right reasons… but it turns out, Gavin really wanted me dead.”

“And why didn’t he kill you?” Isabel asked. “What does he need from you?”

“They want to control us,” Ava said knowingly. “They want to starve us so bad that we’ll do whatever they ask of us.”

“How are they starving you?” Isabel asked.

“They don’t give us any food, they don’t allow us to feed on each other… what they created by putting us in isolation was a recipe for disaster.”

Isabel knew exactly what hunger felt like. She had been starved so much by Gavin that, at some point, she felt like she couldn’t even stand on her own two feet. The truth was, she felt for them, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I don’t know what to say… Gavin has been starving me for quite some time now, on and off,” she said.

“Starving you how?” Oz asked, resting his head on the iron bars.

      “You know,” Isabel muttered. “They wouldn’t let me feed….”

“They’re trying to weaken you,” Oz said. “That way, they have more control over you.”

Isabel knew the jig was up. There was nothing left to hide, nothing to cover up. Isabel knew exactly what they’re trying to do, and she didn’t like it one bit. Everything was coming together now. “Ava,” Isabel said again. “What did Oz, I mean Mikael, do to you that night at the club?” she asked.

“He bit me… he shape shifted into a vampire, Isabel, and now I’m on my way to becoming one.”

There was a pause. “And how will we know who the vampires are, and who the shape shifters are?” Isabel asked. The realization only made her stomach churn.

“We don’t,” Oz said. “That’s the disturbing part… we don’t know unless we go up against them, but until then, it’s just a dirty game of trial and error.”

Isabel could feel her energy running low again. She crouched down on the floor and started crying, the weight of her realizations finally taking their toll on her. At that point, she had no idea where to start, or what to do. Was she just going to wait until the vampires took over? Or was she going to show them she was onto them? So many questions were racing through her mind, and a part of her just wanted to drop everything and run away. But she knew she was never going to have her old life back; from the second she laid eyes on Gavin, she knew nothing would be the same anymore. She hadn’t been in touch with her family for months now, the very image of what her life used to look like turning into a distant memory in her mind. “What’s my next step, then?” she asked, her eyes following things that weren’t there.

The silence of the cells rang in her ears. She could feel their desperation, their hunger; it was seeping into her. She felt starving, herself. She knew she had no choice but to feed on Oz— the real Oz— sooner or later. She knew something was off about Mikael. Her mind kept going back to his pale skin, his bloodshot eyes and his death glare. Oz was never like that. She should’ve known something was up since they came to Paris. “I’m so stupid,” she muttered, raising her eyes to Oz, who had his eyes closed. “Oz?” Isabel said before she realized he had drifted off to sleep. He looked weaker than she had ever seen him; his wings had grown back, except now, they had a dull shine, like gold turned into copper. Isabel looked closely and she could see dark patches growing near the roots, like something was cutting off the blood supply to certain areas of his wings. She cringed at the sight, and she promised herself she would do anything to beat the vampires at their dirty game. Only problem was: how was she going to tell them apart? She was still new to this world; so naive, so inexperienced that even the boldest of signs weren’t enough to tell her what to do.

“The prophecy,” Ava whispered, her voice throaty and dry. “It says you’re going to meet someone, someone brave… he’s going to help you fight, to conquer.”

“And then what happens? What happens after we go up against the vampires?” Isabel asked, eyeing Ava as she struggled to stay awake.

“The vampires will vanish, and then we’ll all be free. The only ones left will be the succubi, the angels and the rebels,” she said. “Isabel, if you don’t conquer the vampires, they’re going to take over, you’re going to be like a ring around their finger. Then and only then, will they truly control you, all of you.”

“What do you think their next step will be?” Isabel asked. A part of her didn’t even want to know the answer.

“I haven’t been around for long… but I hear things. They think that just because they’ve got us in here, that we’re unaware of what’s happening around us,” Ava said, shaking her head. “Well, little do they know… we can hear every word of what they’re saying. They think we’re oblivious, just because we’re starving, but, Isabel… we’ve never been more awake.”

“And what did they say? Do you remember anything, anything of importance?”

“They’re going to build an army… they’re going to go around recruiting people, people like me,” Ava said, her eyes dropping to the floor.

“Like you how?” Isabel asked.

“Vulnerable. Mikael took advantage of me because I was drunk, and then he did what he did. You know, you would think that the standard definition of “taking advantage” would be to have sex with someone while they’re drunk,” she scoffed. “Turns out it means digging their fangs into your skin, turning you into a vampire.”

“And now they’re going around clubs turning people,” Isabel said, shaking her head. She didn’t know what to tell Ava. For all she knew, they were both in deep shit. Oz was snoring, and Isabel could just tell he was growing weaker and weaker every day. Suddenly, she heard a loud crash. “I think I need to go now,” she said, bouncing to her feet. “But I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Don’t be long,” Ava said desperately. It was like she was calling out to Isabel, begging for her help. “I’ll be waiting,” she said.

“I promise, I’ll do something about this,” Isabel said, turning to leave. In the distance she could hear voices, so she turned around again and rushed past the cells. There has to be another way out of here. Suddenly she found another stairway and took it, floating up the steps until she came across a little red door at the end. What is this, Alice in Wonderland? She turned to knob on the door. What she came across astonished her. She walked into a bedroom, fully furnished in gold plated furniture, and when she looked around, she realized it was Analise’s room, but it was empty. “I thought I saw this room before,” she said to herself. Everything made sense to her. Analise was in charge of the cells, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Gavin’s room was connected to that dungeon, too.

“Well, I think it’s better if I just got out of here,” Isabel said as she staggered out of the room. She was back out in the hallway again and, judging by the looks on people’s faces, she wasn't supposed to be there. She stuffed her hands inside her pockets and made her way upstairs again, to the tower. She needed to go back to her room. She needed to start planning.

CHAPTER 8

Isabel was restless. She was tossing and turning in bed, her head spinning with what Ava and Oz told her about the vampires. A battle was brewing, and she still had no idea how she was going to stop it. She thought about visiting the cells again, but then she decided it was too risky. Isabel sat up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed, contemplating her next move. Her staying up all night resulted in nothing but more nerves, more questions. She decided she had to snoop around if she was going to take matters into her own hands. She got up, threw her robe on and stepped outside, wandering about aimlessly until she heard Analise’s voice. Isabel felt her skin crawl. She looked around, but there was nothing.

“You don’t understand, someone broke in there last night, I don’t know how the hell it happened!” she heard the voice say. Isabel cocked her head to the side, and when she realized she was standing right outside Analise’s room, she moved in closer, trying to listen in on what was happening. The walls were thin, a bit too thin, and Isabel knew that all this talk was about her. The thought made her sick.

“What do you mean “broke in”?” another voice said. Isabel immediately recognized it as Gavin’s.

“I went down there and I literally saw the iron bars, they were pushed apart, like someone had broken in,” Analise said. Isabel could just feel the tension radiating through the walls.

“And who do you think did this?” a third voice asked. Isabel squinted, trying to identify who it belonged to; it was a strange voice, an unfamiliar one, but there was something about it that made Isabel curious. A part of her felt like she heard this voice somewhere before, and yet she felt like it belonged to a stranger.

“Who do you think?” Analise asked, rather sarcastically. There was silence. “Tell him, Gavin.”

“It was Isabel,” he said after a long pause.

“Wait, has anyone gone missing?” the unfamiliar voice asked.

“No, I checked. Everything’s in its place,” she said.  “That’s not the point… now that she knows where the place is, not even a lock can stop her! She’s too powerful, you don’t understand, this is dangerous.”

There was a pause. Isabel could just feel the tension building up inside the room. Of course they would find out I did it, she thought. She contemplated running away, but then decided against it. There was a pretty good chance they were going to say something useful. “Gavin,” Analise said. “Did you lock my room the other night?”

Another pause. “Yes,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I locked it.”

“So she must’ve used the stairs, like last time,” she said. “Gavin, you need to keep an eye on her more, she can’t just roam around like that.”

“What do you want me to do, tie her to the bed?” he asked.

Another pause. At that moment, Isabel felt like she was this close to running away. Her feet were itching, as if enticed by some invisible force. She had never been so scared in her life. Ever since Gavin saw her down there, she had been having trouble keeping it together. No matter how much she liked to deny it, even to herself, Isabel knew they were going to find out that it was her, and they were going to come after her. “Isabel,” she heard Gavin say. She could feel her heart drop to her knees. Were they going to come out looking for her?

      “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Analise snapped. “You just let her roam around like that?”

“Well, I suppose you think you could’ve done a better job? Listen, here, Analise, don’t forget your place.”

The tension was oozing through the paper-thin walls. “I have a lot on my plate, Gavin, and you know that!”

“Hey, I think you need to calm down, what if the newcomers hear us?” the third voice said.

“He fucked up, Mikael,” Analise said. “He needs to get it together, or our plan’s bust.”

Isabel took a step back. Mikael. She wondered what he looked like in real life, but for now, his identity remained unknown, behind the closed doors. Isabel wished she could just barge in and tell them she was on to them. She wished she could get rid of them. She had contemplated using her powers to demolish Analise, but the funny thing was, she didn’t even know if that was possible. How was killing a vampire even possible? Did it involve a wooden stake to the heart, like what you see in the movies? Isabel didn’t know. The tougher question, though, was how was killing a shape shifter possible? She needed to do her research. There was no Internet access, not much technology and very few resources to get through to the outside world. If she was going to find out information about vampires that didn’t involve watching modern day soap operas, then she had to start digging. “Alright,” Analise said again. This time, her voice was calmer. “Did Isabel see anything she wasn’t supposed to see?” she asked.

“She didn’t,” Gavin said. “She can’t do anything, I’ve got her under my control.” Isabel stomped her foot just hearing that. “What was that?”

Isabel took off. She could feel her feet taking her to the far end of the corridor, but before she could round the corner, she heard Analise’s vicious voice call her name. “Isabel, can I have a word with you for a second?” Isabel turned around and walked back. She couldn’t let them know she heard anything.

“Hey!” she said, faking a smile. “How are you? I was just going to get something to eat, you want to join?” Isabel could feel Analise’s eyes boring into her. Her eyes were like daggers, and they were piercing into her soul. Suddenly, Isabel didn’t feel safe. Something told her to make a run for it, so she did. Seconds later, she felt a pair of claws grab her from behind, and then another hand came over her mouth, shutting her up completely. She could feel herself being lifted off the floor, and she was kicking at the air with her feet, trying to break free from their grip. But it was no use: whatever had a hold on her was extremely strong. She could only see the ceiling, but she could tell the hallway was completely empty, like everyone had disappeared into thin air. Isabel twisted her neck around, the sound of feet clicking against the hardwood floor echoing in her ears. Where was everyone? “Let me go, let me go!” she mumbled under Gavin’s hand. Suddenly she felt an incline, like her body was being carried down the stairs.

CHAPTER 9

“Where are you taking me?” Isabel yelled, struggling to free herself. She could feel her captors’ grip tightening around her ankles and wrists, but she couldn’t quite tell who was at each end. Her stomach churned at the sensation of being carried down the stairs, the floors too many to count. She knew where they were taking her, wasn’t it obvious now? “Please, just let me go!” she cried again. The sounds of their clothes rustling echoed down the stairwell, and Isabel could almost smell Gavin’s breath on her face. She didn’t know what it was about his smell, but she could almost always recognize it. She looked around and all she saw were cement bricks, and it was only then did she confirm that they were taking her to the underground cells. The panic was rising up in her; what were they going to do to her in there? She thought about Oz, and how weak he looked. Isabel wasn’t very optimistic. Suddenly she felt her body become perfectly horizontal again, but she was still floating in midair.

“Alright, did you do this?” Analise asked. They lowered Isabel back down, and the first thing she saw were Gavin’s piercing eyes. They were fixated on something behind her, and when Isabel turned around, she saw the iron bars, pushed apart as if done by some kind of animal, and the animal was her. “Isabel,” Analise said again, leaning in close to her. “Did you do this?”

Isabel could feel a lump form in her throat. She took in a deep breath and straightened herself; she was getting in trouble either way, so she might as well just tell the truth. “I did,” she breathed, her lips curving to a smile, a smile so menacing that it made Analise flare her nostrils.

“And you did this, why?” she asked, folding both arms across her chest. Isabel felt like she was back in high school again, and that Analise was her bitchy math teacher.

“I heard voices,” Isabel said, almost robotically. “They were calling out to me, telling me to save them.”

Analise just stared at her. She turned around to look at Mikael, who was nothing short of the scariest man— or shape shifter— Isabel had ever seen. He was about seven feet tall, his legs resembling flag poles, and he was broad across the shoulders. He had reddish stretch marks all over his skin, making it look like some invisible force had tugged it at. Isabel deduced that it was a shape shifter thing. What blew her mind, though, was how he looked nothing like the real Oz. How is it possible for someone to change so much? Isabel looked over and saw that Analise hadn’t taken her eyes off her. “Who did the voices belong to?” she demanded.

Isabel hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to get Oz and Ava into trouble. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, she heard a throaty whisper coming from inside the cells. “The voice belonged to me,” it said. “I did it.” Isabel turned around, and it was Oz. His skin was paler than ever, and she could see him crawl on his hands and knees, eventually settling down next to the cell door. His voice was raspy— Isabel deduced that he was dehydrated— and the corners of his lips were chapped to the point where it hurt to look at them. It seemed as though every time he opened his mouth, the corners would bleed a little. Isabel cringed at the sight. “We’re on to you, you think we’re not on to you?” Oz hissed.

Analise walked over to his cell, eyeing him up and down before she started kicking at the iron bars loudly. They vibrated in their place, their ringing echoing all across the cemented cell floor. Oz rolled over and covered his ears with both hands, his body rocking back and forth violently. Isabel felt helpless. She tried to move but it felt like her feet were cemented to the floor. They’re doing this on purpose, it’s all a part of the mind control. She averted her gaze to Gavin, and when their eyes met, she realized he had been staring at her, holding her in place. If she was going to rebel, then she had to find a way to overcome Gavin’s powers. She closed her eyes and tried to focus all her energy on what was happening. She could feel an invisible force, something intangible, and it was taking over her mind and soul. Bit by bit, she began feeling detached, like her soul had escaped her body, and she was watching everything and everyone from afar. She had a will, a free will, to do whatever she wanted, and to act however way she wanted. Suddenly she felt more powerful than ever. She fantasized about breaking into those cells and freeing everyone that was in there, but then she felt her arms falling limp to her side again, her ability to focus diminishing altogether. She wondered why this tended to happen without warning, and she cursed herself for not being to gain control over her own life and body.

“Stop, Stop!” Oz yelled, folding both arms above his head. He was curled up in a fetal position, his body shaking to the rattling of the metal bars. “Please, for the love of God, just stop!”

“This ought to teach you to mind your own business!” Analise snarled. She stepped back and turned to Gavin. They exchanged brief glances, and then suddenly, Gavin grabbed Isabel and pulled her towards him. She tried to wiggle away from him, her body arching all the way back, but then his grip on her wrists tightened, and she could feel herself being pulled towards Gavin again and then shoved into the cell with Ava. Her body slammed against the wall and she fell to the floor, crawling on all fours in an attempt to get out. “Don’t even think about it!” Analise hissed, kicking Isabel so she fell back again. “You’re going to regret this… do you want to get yourself killed?” she asked, glaring at Isabel.

“I want to get out, get me out!” Isabel yelled, rising to her feet and trying to push past Analise. She felt her body being pushed back again, and she ended up right back where she was. Ava was lying there on the ground, her eyes following them as they came at each other like animals. She tried to get up but her body failed her. She couldn’t even stand on her own two feet. Since they locked her up in there, she hadn’t been feeding on anyone, and it made her weak. She and Oz were locked up in separate cages. If they had been able to get through to each other, they could’ve fed off of each other. But instead, one watched the other all day, their lives turning into this endless cycle of desperation. The truth was, Isabel was their last hope. They both knew how powerful she was, but she just had to believe in herself. Ava opened her mouth by no words came out, and with every breath she sucked in, she could feel her throat dry up like sandpaper. She reached out to Isabel, but then Analise kicked at her hand, and she fell back, howling in pain. “Why the fuck did you do that?” Isabel asked, shoving Analise.

“Gavin, are you just going to stand there and watch?” Analise asked, turning to him briefly before she realized Isabel had slapped her across the face. “That’s it,” she snapped, taking her claws out and attacking Isabel.

“Wait,” Gavin said, placing a hand over Analise’s shoulder. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to handle things.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert at it?” Analise asked, rolling her eyes at him.

Gavin gently pushed Analise aside and stepped closer to Isabel, his eyes locked on hers. Suddenly she could feel the hunger rise up in her again. This time, it was fierier, more intense than it ever was in the past few days. She clutched her stomach with her hands, trying to control that tingling feeling, that warmth, which was slowly spreading out through her. “Analise, I’d like for you to step out,” Gavin said, nodding towards the exit. Analise narrowed her eyes at him, her face drooping to a scowl. She stood there for a moment, as if waiting for Gavin to change his words, but when he didn’t she let out a sigh and turned around, making her way back upstairs.

“Sometimes I wish I was a free woman, but I’m not, now, am I?” she muttered, her voice growing more and more distant as she climbed up the stairs. Isabel cocked her head to the side, listening to Analise’s footsteps as they moved further and further away. In her absence, Isabel found peace. And now, she was left with Gavin. She squirmed in the corner of her cell, trying to stay as far away from him as she possibly could.

“Isabel, why so scared?” he asked. There was something about the way his teeth protruded through his smile that made Isabel shiver. He wasn’t the old Gavin anymore, but he was something else, something more menacing. Isabel looked over and Oz had his eyes closed; he was almost completely out of it. Ava was slumped down on the floor, her body curved into a wobbly L shape. “Well, that just leaves the two of us,” Gavin said, raising an eyebrow at Isabel.

She tried to resist it, but Gavin’s eyes ignited a spark inside of her. She hadn’t fed on anyone in days, and as much as she had liked to push back the feeling, it always seemed to pop back up. Her hunger was something she couldn’t control, and it seemed to her that it had reached its breaking point. Just looking at Gavin made her feel desperate, like an electric current was zapping through her, and no matter how hard she tried, Isabel knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. “Please, just stay away from me,” she said, holding up both hands in front of her. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Gavin asked, crouching down in front of her. He got down on his knees so his eyes were level with hers. “Look at me,” he said. Immediately, Isabel raised her eyes to him, like some invisible force was pulling them up. “Look at me and tell me you don’t want me,” Gavin continued, licking his lips. Isabel’s lips were slightly parted, and she could feel the desire gush right through her.

“I, I-” she muttered.

“Shh,” Gavin said, leaning in close to her. She could feel his warm breath against her face; she couldn’t resist it anymore. Isabel dove in and kissed him hungrily, their tongues intertwining.

She closed her eyes, letting the feel of his hands on her ignite the fire inside her, and despite how she felt about him, couldn’t deny how much she needed this. She could feel her body reacting to his touch, the feel of his lips against hers, and she knew that whatever false bravado she had put up only moments before was gone now. All she wanted was to feed, and a part of her tried desperately to close off the notion that she was getting what she wanted from Gavin.

She wrapped an arm around his neck as his hands slid under her robe and cupped one of her breasts, instantly sending waves of desire through her. The touch of his fingers against her nipple only made her want him more, and without any form of control, she was undressing him just as quickly as he was disrobing her.

Gavin brought her to her feet and pushed her against the cell wall, clutching her by the neck as his eyes took her in. She could see the hunger in them, and she wondered if his matched hers. With a swipe of her arm, she pushed his hand away and pulled him to her, her hand immediately grabbing his cock and stroking. Their eyes locked, and she shuddered at the smile he gave her.

“Turn around,” Gavin ordered.

Isabel hesitated for the briefest of seconds before he grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around and pushed her against the wall. She could feel the cold stones against her body, but the warmth of his hardness pressed against her bare ass was enough to make her ignore the momentary discomfort. Besides, it was just as well that she wouldn’t have to look into those eyes.

She began to rotate her hips against him, urging him on, letting him know that she was ready. She felt his hand snake in between her thighs and press against the softness of her, his fingers easily finding her clit and making her shudder and moan.

“I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you, Isabel?”

Isabel only whimpered, and when she reached back to grab him and guide him into her he slapped her hand away.

“Please,” she moaned as his fingers sent shock waves through her. “Please, just do it already.”

“I thought you didn’t want this,” Gavin teased, and she hated herself for being in this situation, at his mercy. “You said so yourself.”

“I was wrong,” Isabel sighed. “Gavin, I –”

He didn’t wait for her to continue, obviously just as eager to fuck her as she wanted to be fucked. He quickly pushed her legs open and thrust inside her, without any warning, forcing her to scream as he penetrated deep inside her. She felt her insides being torn apart, and when she tried to move, his pushed her harder against the wall and stopped her.

Gavin began to thrust against her, hard, slamming his cock deep inside with every stroke, her screams of pleasure mixing with pain. He picked up the pace, and within seconds her ass was smacking against his hips as he rocked against her. She placed her hands against the wall, trying to keep balance as she felt her legs go numb with his intensity, his cock filling her up.

Gavin leaned against her, pushing deeper inside, and Isabel pushed her hips against his, urging him in further. She forgot that it was Gavin drilling her, and when she closed her eyes, she replaced him with a multitude of other faces as she screamed in pleasure with his every thrust.

He suddenly dug his nails into her waist and pulled her to him, pushing even further inside, and with a loud grunt, exploded. She felt his warmth gush into her, his cock pulsating inside her as he emptied himself. She tried to catch her breath, feeling her own muscles twitching, and when he pulled out she slid silently to the floor. She closed her eyes, and pulled her knees to her chest, and let her mind float away.

CHAPTER 10

“Well, that was nice,” Gavin whispered, running a finger down Isabel’s bare back.

“Yeah, it was,” she said, almost robotically. She felt numb, violated, almost, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it, even to herself. Gavin still had the power. A part of her believed that he always would, and that saddened her more than anything. She was done playing the victim, and she was done being irresponsible. She couldn’t let the hunger get the best of her; she had to find a way to overcome her own shortcomings. “Gavin,” she said suddenly. “I want to be alone.”

“How are you feeling, Isabel?” he asked, brushing his fingers through her hair. Isabel grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Please, just leave me alone,” she said again, her voice stern. Gavin narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t like this, not one bit. Isabel was gaining control over her own life, or at least she was trying to, and to him, this was a major threat to their system. She was like a means to an end; he didn’t want her wandering here or there. He needed her to stay put, to obey his orders without fail.

“You never used to kick me out like this,” he said, a serious look on his face. “What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? What do you mean “what’s the matter”?” Isabel asked, pulling her robe together. For the first time, she didn’t feel good after a night with Gavin. The feeling was like being bloated after a big meal, but nowhere near satisfied. Something was changing, and Isabel had to figure out how she was going to cope with it. It was all so overwhelming.

“Isabel, we have an amazing time together,” Gavin said. “What changed?”

What do you mean “what changed”? Oh, I have a pretty good hunch it has to do with the fact that I’m locked up in a dungeon, Oz is dying and there’s a shape shifter on the loose pretending to be him?

“I, I don’t know,” she said, looking away. But deep down, she knew their plan was backfiring. Isabel was getting stronger, more in control. Gavin repulsed her. It was true she needed him to feed, but that feeling of exclusivity, or relying on him and him only, it completely vanished. Isabel didn’t know what it was that led to this progression, but it sure was working. And she couldn’t let Gavin know that was the case. This time, she was going to play it smart. “I think I was just scared, that you were going to pull away again,” she breathed, smoothing the hair off her forehead. “I was scared you would leave me hanging again.”

“I’m sorry I left you hanging, Izzy,” Gavin said, tracing circles over her bare arm. Isabel felt her skin crawl at contact with his fingers. “Are you okay? You seem cold.”

“You’re just making me hungry all over again,” she said, her lips curving to a smile. The truth was, Isabel had outdone herself. She didn’t know she could lie like that, to be able to turn her disgust into pleasure. “You’re making me want you all over again.”

“In time,” Gavin whispered. “I won’t be long.”

“You better not be,” Isabel mouthed. Inside, she was glad he was leaving. She hoped he would leave her alone for good, but she knew this wasn’t an option. She wrapped her arms around herself and let out a sigh, her eyes locked on Gavin’s. “I’ll be waiting for you here,” she hissed.

“You want to go back up to your room?” he asked, rising to his feet. “I know I can talk Analise into taking you back there.”

“No, I think I’ll be good here,” Isabel said. “I don’t feel so well, I better not take the stairs.”

“Alright,” Gavin nodded. “I better go now, but I’ll be back.”

Isabel smiled to him, and as soon as he turned around to leave, her face drooped to a scowl. “Well, that was definitely disgusting,” she muttered to herself.

“It sure was,” Oz said. Isabel looked over and he had pushed his body up against the wall. He was sweating, his skin glistening under the dim lights. “Now, who’s a better performer in bed, him, or I?”

Isabel chuckled. “Oh, God, I hope you didn’t see anything,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth. “You missed out on quite the threesome, though,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You wish that was me instead of Mikael,” Oz said, folding both arms across his chest. Isabel thought he looked weaker than ever, and yet, she was so attracted to him right now. A part of her just wanted to pounce on him, to revive that fervor they once had. Oz was her one chance at revival, and with him, she felt like she could do anything.

“I do,” Isabel said, rising to her feet. She walked over to his cell, which, in her haste, Analise had left unlocked. She sat down next to him, brushing his hair with the back of her hand, and when he looked up at her, Isabel felt something inside of her shake. She had missed Oz, the real Oz, and with Gavin, a part of her always felt like there was something wrong. “I think, I think we should join forces, you and I,” she said, her eyes roaming his face and neck. “We can beat the vampires at their own game, together.”

Oz wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She placed her head on his chest as he cradled her, and for the first time in a while, she felt safe. It was ironic, she thought, that the safest she felt in weeks was in a prison cell. But with both Oz and Ava around her, she knew nothing would happen to her. Isabel let out a sigh, not knowing what her next move should be. She looked up at Oz, and his eyes were fixated on the cement floor. She wondered if he was strong enough to do this with her, to face up to the enemy. But by the looks of it, they weren’t even close.

“Oz,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. His fingers were so cold and bony, but he squeezed back with just enough pressure to indicate that he was still awake. Isabel wasn’t really hopeful. “Do you want to do this together?” she asked.

“It’s not a matter of wanting to, it’s a matter of needing to,” he replied. “If I don’t do anything about this, I’ll die. I’ve been starving for a while now… they’re just giving me enough to keep me alive,” he said.

“Oz,” Isabel said again. “Why are they keeping you alive?”

“Because I help them,” he replied. “They starve me, Isabel, sometimes I have no choice but to give them what they want.”

“Do you give them information?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Oz nodded. “I tell them what controls you, what makes you tick,” he said. “They’re studying me like a lab rat so they can go on creating this image, this replica. They want to use me to get to you, Isabel.”

“Well, now I know the truth,” she said. “I knew it right from the start, that there was something wrong about this Mikael… he wasn’t like you.”

“Funny you should tell the difference,” Oz said, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “When they brought Mikael to you, they made sure that everything matched. They made no mistakes.”

“I don’t know, something just felt… off,” Isabel said. And she knew it was true. She had grown so attached to Oz, that a part of her felt like she couldn’t survive without him. And then it came to her; Gavin had made a huge mistake by leaving them together. “We can make each other strong,” Isabel said, leaning in close to Oz. “We can feed on each other.”

“But if they catch us, it’ll be a disaster,” he said. Isabel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Suddenly, they heard voices coming from upstairs. “Quick, go back to your cell,” Oz whispered.

Isabel bounced back to her feet, retreating to the tiny box that was her cell. She crouched down on the floor and pretended to be asleep. “Let go of me, God!” she heard a voice say. She cocked her head to the side and listened. The voice sounded familiar. In the distance she could hear footsteps, interrupted briefly by the sounds of people whispering. “Can you just let go of me?” the voice said again. Isabel shook her head, immediately recognizing the voice as Aden’s. She remembered the last time she saw him, how weak he looked and how distraught. Something must’ve happened.

“Lock him up in there,” Analise said, appearing in the doorway. Gavin dragged Aden into the cell next to Isabel. He flashed her a smirk before he pushed him inside, his body slamming against the wall. “Gavin, did you lock her in the cell last night?” Analise whispered, nodding to Isabel.

You think I don’t hear you, bitch?

“I did,” Gavin lied. Isabel wondered what was going on inside his head. In any case, she knew he couldn’t stop thinking about their night together. She fixated her eyes on him as he went about the place. Suddenly, he turned to look at her, and when his gaze met hers, his lips slightly parted, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Gavin, I think we need to go,” Analise said, her hand coming over his shoulder. Gavin flinched. He could feel her fingers tightening around his skin, and she rolled her eyes, taking them off Isabel and turning to look at her again. “What are you doing?” Analise whispered. “Don’t let her control you, you’re letting her control you!”

Gavin nodded, following Analise back upstairs. It took a lot of time and effort to bend him, but she knew she was getting there. She turned over to look at Aden, who was sweating profusely. “What did they do to you?” she asked, clicking her fingers together so he would look at her.

“I let them know I was on to them,” he said, his right eye slightly twitching. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

“Yeah,” Isabel said. “It is pretty stupid.” There was a pause. Aden’s eyes were bloodshot and his voice was groggy, like he had been crying for hours. “What did you find out?” Isabel asked, slamming the iron bars with the back of her hand so Aden doesn’t fall asleep.

“Well, for starters, my roommate went missing,” he said. “I looked everywhere for her, and then I overheard Analise talking over the phone. It was all in French, but I concluded that they shipped her off somewhere.”

“Like where?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“The other mansion.”

“There’s another mansion?” she asked again. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that… there’s somewhere else, somewhere they’re keeping the rebels,” Aden said, his voice boiling down to a whisper.

“Why are they keeping you here, then?” Isabel asked, tilting her head sideways.

“Because there are people worse than us, there are bigger threats,” he said.

“And what are they threatening to do?”

“They’re plotting something at the other mansion,” Aden said. “And we’re going to find out what that is, very, very soon.”

“Are you in contact with the people in there?” Isabel asked, holding onto the iron bars while she stared at him.

Aden nodded and then looked at her. His eyes darted back and forth, as if checking to see if anyone was listening, and then he got closer to her, trying to fit his head as far between the bars as he could. “They send me letters,” he hissed.

Isabel looked around and everyone else was asleep. She wondered how much time they had left until they dropped dead. The very thought of something happening to Oz horrified her, but she knew that, if she was going to pull them all out of this mess, she couldn’t rely on just him. She had to work with what she had. “What do they tell you in these letters, can I know?” she asked.

Aden looked left and right, and then he stuffed his hand into his pockets. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, and then he handed it over to Isabel through the metal bars. She reached out and grabbed it, keeping an eye on the door. “Come on, unfold it,” Aden hissed. Isabel sighed and spread it out in front of her, and then she realized it was a map. “Wait, what is this?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s a map of how to get to the mansion,” Aden said, his lips curving to a smile. “The succubi sent it so we know exactly how to reach them,” he continued.

“And those people at the mansion, are they all succubi?” Isabel asked.

“Some are succubi, some are angels, some are rebel vampires,” Aden replied, a serious look on his face. “We can’t have intruders, intruders like Gavin and Mikael,” he said.

Isabel nodded. Suddenly, she saw shadows dancing on the wall. “What the fuck is this?” she heard Analise say right before she appeared at the doorway. Her eyes went straight to Isabel, who had the map spread out in front of her. Isabel felt her heart drop \. Analise barged to her cell, swinging it open and snatching the map from Isabel’s hands. She read it carefully, her eyes going up and down the squiggly lines, and then she scrunched it up in her hand and held so tightly onto it that her knuckles turned white. “Answer me,” she hissed, her eyes darting from Isabel, to Aden, and then to Isabel again.

“I gave it to her,” Aden said. “It’s mine.”

Analise diverted her gaze to Aden, who stared back at her challengingly. “That’s it, you need to go,” she said. “Gavin, guards!” Suddenly, Isabel could hear the sound of feet scurrying down the stairs again, and then she saw Gavin, who squeezed past Analise and ambushed Aden in his cell. The guards, whom Isabel had never seen before, cornered Aden, and it seemed to her like they had swallowed him up, because he disappeared. “Aden, Aden!” Isabel yelled, getting up and rushing to the door. She could feel herself go crazy at the sight of him being carried away, kicking and screaming. She knew he was never coming back, that the only way she could see him again was to go over there herself. Were they taking him to the other mansion? What sorts of sick things do they do to the people in there? Isabel could feel her stomach churn just thinking about it. But she knew she had to do something. Ava and Oz rose to their feet and protested at the gates, but nobody blinked an eye. Isabel yelled for Aden, but it was too late. They had already taken him away. She sank down to her knees, feeling around for the map in the darkness of the cells. But Analise had already taken it away. Stupid, this is all stupid!  Aden shouldn’t have taken that thing out in the first place. Now Isabel was never going to find out where they took him.

“Fuck, how are we going to get to him now?” she asked, turning to look at Oz. He looked surprisingly lively for a person who had been starving for days. He looked out into the distance, like he was thinking about something, something troubling.

“We’re going to join him and the rebels at the other mansion,” he said knowingly.

“And how are we going to do that?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed. For some reason, she always trusted what Oz had to say. The real Oz, anyway.

“This place isn’t fit for us anymore, it’s filling up with vampires and shape shifters, we need to get on the other side,” he said, ignoring Isabel’s question.

“How can we reach them?” she asked. “Aden said they sent him letters?”

“They did,” Oz said. “But it’s too risky.”

“Do you think Aden will reach out to us from over there?” she asked.

“Maybe, it all depends on security,” he replied. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

CHAPTER 11

The days dragged on. Isabel stretched out her arm in front of her and all she saw was a streak of white extending out into the darkness of the cell. She was getting just as weak as the rest of them. She looked over at Oz and he was chugging down some water from a rusty can. He set it down next to him and stared at her with glassy eyes. “This is taking too long,” he said.

“What is?” Isabel asked, blinking repeatedly as Oz’s face swam in and out of focus. “Are they going to bring you any food?” she said, her eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, a beam of light slashed in through the doorway and Gavin stepped inside with a tray full of food. Isabel squirmed to the front of her cell, holding onto the iron bars as Gavin lay down the food in front of them. He diverted his gaze to Isabel and clenched his jaw. She stared at him as his eyes darted from her, to the bread, and then back at her again. She nodded to him, and then he rose to his feet and walked away. “What in the world?” she mumbled, toying around with the bread. She took it apart but there was nothing, and then she grabbed the other loaf and took it apart as well. “Oz, Oz, take a look at this!” she whispered.

“What, what is that?” he asked, his eyes fixated on the piece of paper.

“It’s a letter,” Isabel hissed. She checked to see if anyone was still there and then unfolded it, her eyes going up and down the lines of writing.

Dearest Isabel,

This is to let you know that I’ve crossed over to the other side safely. This letter isn’t meant to be read by anyone except Oz, Ava and yourself. Gavin has agreed to cooperate with me to deliver this letter to you… only because you have charmed him. Believe in yourself, Isabel! You have just as much power to control him as he does you, if not more. The enemy are nothing but fools! If only they had the slightest idea what kind of chaos is brewing in the other mansion, if only! Locking us all up in one condensed space without much security or surveillance isn’t the best idea, now, is it? I just want you to know that I’m well, and that soon you’ll be joining us, all of you.

Yours Truly,

Aden

Isabel looked up from the letter and averted her gaze to Oz. The corners of her lips curved to a smile. It all made sense now. She was glad to hear that Aden was okay, even more glad that he has some sort of plan. Aden seemed so sure of himself, and Isabel had to admit, it made her nervous. What kind of war was brewing in the other mansion? And has it already begun? How does Isabel fit into all of this? She had so many questions that were left unanswered, and it was all up to her to decide which path to take. “It’s from Aden,” Isabel mouthed.

“Can I read it?” Oz asked, reaching his hand out to her.

“Not right now,” she said, crumpling it up and stuffing it into her pocket. She cocked her head towards the door, just as Analise came marching in with a smile on her face.

“Hello,” she said. “How are my little succubi and angels doing today?” she asked with a smug look on her face.

“Bitch, don’t talk to us like that, we’re onto you! We’re onto you!” Ava snarled.

“Guards,” Analise yelled, cocking her head towards Ava. “Take her to solitary confinement, that bitch needs to learn her lesson,” she said. Isabel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She watched as the guards took Ava away. Why did she have to do that? Does being trapped in a dark cell for weeks on end do that to a person?

It probably does… But she knew Ava was smarter than that, she knew she must have some sort of plan. She waited until Analise was gone, and then she looked over at Oz. “What was that for?” she whispered.

“She’s doing what we’re all supposed to be doing at this point,” he said with a smile on his face. “She’s trying to get them to move her to the other mansion.”

“The more, the merrier, I guess?” Isabel asked. “What’s it like there?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Oz said with a smirk on his face. “But we need to wait, or else it’ll look suspicious.”

“You’re right,” Isabel said. She raised her eyes to Oz and, realizing he had already been staring at her, she flashed him a smile. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “We’re all alone now.”

“It’s too risky,” he said. There was a pause. The two of them exchanged brief glances, interrupted by their sighs of yearning, and then suddenly, Isabel crawled to the front of her cell, holding onto the iron bars and pulling them apart. Slowly but surely, they started moving. Little by little, Isabel began to muster up enough strength to create a dent in the prison door, one that was wide enough for her to fit her whole body through. She slowly rose to her feet and shouldered her way through the dented bars, and then she crouched down on the floor, her eyes fixated on Oz’s.

“I want you so much right now,” she whispered.

“I can tell,” Oz said with a smirk on his face. He eyed her as she wrapped her fingers around the metal bars, holding onto them for a second before she pulled them apart with as much effort as would be required to draw some drapes. Her muscles flexed as she did this; Oz thought it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. “You’re getting stronger,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”

Isabel crawled inside. “The sun just went down, I think,” she said. “I can’t really tell anymore.”

Oz chuckled. “I think it did, the night shift guards will be out soon, though,” he said. “We don’t have much time left… come here.”

Isabel crawled over next to him. Her lips found his instantly, and she eagerly pushed him onto his back as his arms wrapped around her. She sighed against his lips, feeling like she could stay in this exact position forever, his strong arms holding her close, his lips intertwining with hers, the heat of their body mixing in a way that made her want him more and more.

She broke away from their kiss, only to let her lips explore the rest of his body, undressing him as she moved. His hands quickly opened her robe, and he gently pulled her towards him. He took her breasts in his hands, and she lowered herself so that one nipple found its way into his mouth. He sucked hungrily at her, and she clutched the back of his head, sighing in pleasure. She caught a moan before it escaped her lips, careful not to alert the guards, and closed her eyes as his mouth worked.

She felt a rush of cold air against her skin, only then realizing that Oz has opened her robe completely. She adjusted her position, moving so his cock was between her legs, and lowered her hips against him. She gasped as she felt him between her wet lips, and bit her lip when his eyes rolled back at the pleasure of feeling her against him.

She moved, gently grinding, and kept her eyes locked on him as she slowly slid him inside her.

“Oh, Oz,” she moaned gently against his ear as he filled her up. His hands grabbed her by the hip, guiding her, supporting her as she moved against him, slowly sliding him in and out of her in long and deep strokes. She felt his hand against her, a finger rubbing her clit, and she shuddered at his touch. Sitting up, she let her robe fall off her shoulders, smiling as he took her naked body in, and increased her pace.

Within minutes, she was riding him fervently, his thumb pressed against her clit sending one wave of orgasm through her after the other. She lost complete track of time, all worries about the guards and everything else slipping to the back of her mind as she reveled in the now. The feel of him inside her, the touch of his hands on her skin, his beating heart against the palm of her hand, it was an overwhelming mix of pleasure and desire.

She let out an involuntary moan when she felt his hips push up against her and his hands pull her against him, allowing him to push in deeper as he grunted and exploded inside her. She felt her own body shake in orgasm, shivering in the darkness, scratching at his bare chest.

They collapsed onto each other, breathing hard, heartbeats racing, and she allowed herself a small smile as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

***

“That was…”

“Fantastic,” Isabel said. “You know, I’ve always felt like there was something a bit off

whenever Mikael and I were together… it makes me wonder.”

“Isabel, you’ve always been special to me,” Oz said, brushing his fingers through her hair.

“And why do you think that is?” Isabel asked, raising her eyes to him. “When you found me, you had a job to do, nothing more, nothing less.”

“I think you’re underestimating how emotional supernatural creatures can be,” he said with a smirk. “It’s true I was on a mission the day I saw you at the club, but, Isabel, I couldn’t stop thinking about you the minute I laid eyes on you.”

Isabel could feel her cheeks getting red hot. Somehow, she just couldn’t get enough of him. A part of her was convinced that she was falling for Oz, and that scared her. What if he isn’t the person she thinks he is? What if this is all a game of pretend? Isabel could feel her mind going off in all sorts of directions. She felt like she couldn’t trust anyone, not even Oz. But she knew she had to trust someone. A battle was brewing; Isabel needed to pick a side. She wondered if Oz was just using sex to get to her, she wondered if Gavin was doing the same. But it didn’t work with Gavin; Isabel was growing more disgusted by him every day. She thought she would be able to tell by now if she was being used, but that wasn’t the case at all. “D’you think angels can fall for succubi?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Aren’t we a living example of such a case?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. “Isabel, I’m sure you’ve seen stranger things than two people falling in love.”

“But we’re not “people”, Oz,” she said, raising her eyes to him. “I don’t know why I can’t come to terms with that, I always feel the need to say it out loud to believe it.”

“Sometimes I regret feeding on you, I think a part of me always will.” he said. Isabel didn’t say anything. Suddenly she found herself diving into deep contemplation about her life and what it has come down to. She tried to think back to what everything looked like before her transformation, before she even came to this mansion. But she felt nothing, and she saw nothing. Her previous life had become just a blank slate, one that was tarnished, almost blackened, by her current life. Maybe Oz was right: maybe he should’ve never fed on her that day. Maybe they should’ve never met.

“I think about that sometimes, too,” Isabel said, trying to hold back the tears. “I don’t know if I’m meant for this.”

“You’re special, Isabel,” Oz said, smoothing her hair back. “I don’t want you to forget that.”

“Everyone keeps saying that, I don’t get it,” she said. “I don’t have a special power, I don’t understand how this world works, then how do you expect me to accept my fate as some kind of legendary mythological creature?” she asked. “It makes no sense to me!” Oz shifted in his place. He opened his mouth but no words came out. “What’s wrong?” Isabel asked, tilting her head sideways. “You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he said calmly. He stumbled for a while before his lips parted again, the tip of his tongue quivering between his teeth. “It’s just that… centuries ago, the vampires and the angels were on the same page, they didn’t really disagree on anything,” he said. “At that time, the vampire council decided that they were going to pick one succubus and one incubus every century to be the chosen ones.”

“Chosen to do what?” Isabel asked, furrowed little panicked.

“To run the council,” he said. “Well, at the time, there was only one council for all supernatural creatures, you know, back when they all agreed… and when the vampires rebelled, nothing was the same again.”

“So they picked me to be the succubus of the century?” Isabel asked with a smirk.

But Oz wasn’t laughing. “They did, and now that vampires are on one side, and the rest of us are on another, you’re going to get tugged at from all sorts of different directions, and it’s up to you to find your way in the end,” he said.

“That’s the thing, how do I know who to trust?” she asked. “For all I know, you could just be another shape shifter,” she said.

“That’s why you’re special, Isabel,” Oz said. “You were born with this special skill, this ability to filter out stimuli, so you better use it,” he continued.

Suddenly Isabel felt pressured all over again. This was a nightmare for her. Then she remembered something. “You said the vampires pick one male and female, right?” she asked. Oz nodded. “Who’s the incubus?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Oz said with a smirk. Suddenly, Isabel heard a loud crash. She bounced to her feet and snuck back into her cell. The shadows were dancing on the walls again. Somebody was here.

CHAPTER 12

“Oz, what’s going on?” Isabel asked, her eyes darting back and forth frantically. Something was going on outside. She hopped back to her feet again, clutching the iron bars, bracing for action. Something told her there was more to what was happening outside than just a guard brawl. Suddenly, she heard another loud crash, and one of the guards came tumbling down the stairs. Isabel eyed him as he lay there, motionless, drowning in a puddle of his own black blood. She looked over at Oz and his face was expressionless. He nodded to her.

“A storm is coming,” he mouthed. Isabel could feel her heart beat out of her chest. Was Analise coming for her? Were they going to take her away to the other mansion? Another loud crash. Analise’s dead body came rolling down to the bottom of the staircase. Isabel’s hand flew to her mouth.

“What’s happening, what’s happening?” she turned to Oz again. But he didn’t look at her. He just held onto the metal bars, his knuckles a screaming white. He was begging to come out. One guard flew down the stairs and landed on his feet. He was quickly followed by a silver haired ghost -he seemed to have come out of nowhere- and he started throwing punches at him. The first punch glanced the guard’s chin. He noticed too late that it was a feint, though, when the second punch doubled him over and expelled the last bit of air from his fat belly. He had the wind knocked out of him, and he fell to the ground, motionless. Isabel couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Has this man— or creature— single handedly knocked out every single guard up there? No, it couldn’t be. She watched as a red-haired girl rushed downstairs, hauling the bodies off the ground, making sure they were dead.

“What, Ava?” Isabel asked. She waited for the girl to turn around so she could make out who she was, and when she did, Isabel realized that those piercing eyes belonged to Ava. “Ava!” Isabel yelled. The girl stared at her knowingly, and then she motioned for her to stay where she was. Isabel sank to her knees, her nose poking out of the gap between the metal bars. She felt helpless, like she should be doing something and she wasn’t. Suddenly she felt a rush of energy surge through her. She shouldered her way out of her cell, pushing past Ava and making her way up the stairs. What she saw astounded her. The entire mansion was on fire. In the distance she could see shadows dancing, people throwing punches at each other, chairs flying through the fumes. All hell was breaking loose.

“Well, if it isn’t you, Isabel?” she heard a voice say, a voice belonging to none other than Gavin. “I didn’t think you’d make it out of there,” he said.

Isabel turned around, only to see Gavin climbing up the stairs. He looked as though he had appeared out of nowhere. “The succubi have revolted,” she hissed. “It’s already happening, you might as well just give up!”

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, tilting his head sideways. He cleaned his teeth with his tongue. Isabel cringed at the sight. “You’re the chosen one, Isabel, I suppose you already know that, by now.”

Isabel didn’t say anything. She felt as though she was pinned to the floor, transfixed by Gavin’s spell. She had to break out of it. She had to join the other side. He stood straight, eyes bulging with rage, and stared at his opponent, who had her hands balled up into fists. Without thinking, Isabel charged towards him. She threw a punch at him but it felt too sluggish. She knew the second she launched it. Gavin ducked under it, and before Isabel could register the dodge, another body shot, this one to his ribs, sent fresh ripples of pain through his torso. Isabel took a step back, eyeing Gavin as he sank to his knees in pain. She looked around, and Ava was still throwing punches at one of the guards. Before Isabel could do anything, Gavin wrapped his hands around her neck, and she sank to her knees, feeling the last bit of air being squeezed out of her. She felt like she was dying.

“This ought to teach you,” he snarled. Isabel looked at him, her eyes wide, and when she finally felt like she would slip out of consciousness, Gavin gasped and his grip on her loosened. She coughed violently, her throat burning, but she could breathe again. Gavin slumped onto the floor beside her, the wooden leg of a chair pierced through his back and protruding from his chest.

Isabel looked up and saw the silver-haired ghost. He was staring down at her. She instantly felt herself being hauled off the ground and onto a softer surface.

“It’s all over,” the ghost said. Isabel blinked repeatedly, the man’s face swimming in and out of view. She felt her lips curve to a smile when she saw Oz standing right next to him. “I’m Preston,” the man said.

“Isabel,” she replied, scanning the place with her eyes. Utter and complete destruction. The crystal chandeliers were swinging back and forth, the bodies of guards and vampires were lying around everywhere, people were trying to put out the fire.

“How about we get out of here?” he asked, reaching his hand out to her.

Isabel grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Lead the way,” she said.

She looked around and the flames didn’t seem to hurt her eyes anymore. For the first time, she felt free, like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. This was the start of something new, and the truth was, Isabel couldn’t wait.

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Owned by The Vampire

The Vampire War Part 2

Book 3

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Owned by The Vampire

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© Copyright 2016 by Persia Publishing- All rights reserved.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

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Owned by The Vampire

Newsletter

© Copyright 2016 by Persia Publishing- All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

Newsletter

Owned by The Vampire

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© Copyright 2016 by Persia Publishing- All rights reserved.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

Newsletter

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 1

“He’s still breathing.”

“Should we kill him?”

“I don’t know.”

Isabel crouched down next to Gavin’s motionless body. He looked transfixed, as if put under a spell, but when Isabel pressed two of her fingers to his neck he still had a pulse. She looked to her side. The chair leg was still there, staring back at her, begging to be driven into his chest, not only once, but tens of times more. Gavin had to be demolished; he needed to be wiped out. “I think… I think we should let him live.”

“What good would that do?” Presten asked, his eyes darting from Isabel to Gavin’s limp body and back again. “The whole house is in flames, we need to move fast.”

“Let’s take him to the other mansion.”

“The other mansion? Where the rest of us are?” Presten asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Smoke filled his view as he looked around, then a bright glint of orange. The fire screamed and Isabel held back a sob as she watched the house being swallowed up in engorging flames. All they could hear was the crackle of the white paint chipping., It was only then that they realized they needed to get out of there, and they needed to do it now.

“Quick, grab him by his legs,” Isabel said in a panic. They carried his motionless body along the flaming shards of wood that were thrown all over the place. The entire time, Isabel felt invincible. She felt like she could conquer anything. There she was, all partnered up with a man she had just met, and they were fighting evil together. Nothing could beat that feeling, the feeling of sheer empowerment; there was no turning back now.

“The entrances are blocked. I think the ceiling might collapse at any second,” Presten said, his eyes darting back and forth frantically. The tethered draperies had all caught fire, and they were blocking the windows, the only escape they had left.

“Wait— over there!” Isabel said, cocking her head towards a crack in the wall that she knew was part of a secret passageway. They exchanged brief glances before they charged for the entryway. Presten dragged Gavin’s body across the floor. Isabel ducked and held her hand out to him. They crouched down as near to the floor as possible and scurried outside. “We’re almost there,” Isabel said. “Just keep your eyes on the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“There is no light, Isabel,” Presten said.

“But there is.”

Suddenly the bluish hue of the night swam into view, and they found themselves out in the woods again. A cool rush of fresh air came over Isabel and caressed her face; she felt whole again. Presten stood by her side. Gavin’s body was spread out over the muddy grass. They knew they had no choice but to make their way to the other mansion.

“What do you think we should do with him?” Presten asked, turning to look at Isabel.

“We’re going to use him to our advantage; we’re going to make him ours,” she replied, staring out into the distance. Presten eyed her admiringly. He’d known before he’d even met her that she was the bravest succubus of their time, but seeing her in person was a whole other thing.

“Do you think we control him by now?” he asked, scanning the area around them. The fire wasn’t dying down, and it seemed like the place would eat away at itself until it turned into ashes. In the distance, Isabel could hear a chattering sound and as she turned around she thought she saw Ava, her red hair resembling the fire itself.

“Most definitely,” hissed the voice.

Presten jumped and turned around, his eyes wide. “Who’s there?” he asked.

“It’s Ava,” the voice said. She stepped closer to them, her face swimming into view. “Listen, Presten, you did the right thing by letting Gavin live,” she said, staring down at his motionless body. He seemed lifeless. Ava bent down to take his pulse and nodded to confirm that he was in fact still alive.

“He’s under our control now,” Isabel said again, her voice even more confident than before. “We bent him, so we might as well use that to our advantage.” Isabel caught a glimpse of something else lurking in the distant darkness; she knew it was Aden. “I wasn’t worried about you,” she said, her lips forming a smile as she called into the darkness.

“And I wasn’t worried about you,” Aden replied. “Let’s get this son of a bitch to the other mansion, the rest of the vampires can rot in hell.”

“Wait, what was that?” Isabel asked, cocking her head to the side to listen. Beyond the crackling of the fire they could hear rustling sounds. Was there yet another person lurking in the darkness? Suddenly, something jumped out at Isabel and she was knocked to the ground.

“I’m going to kill you,” a voice snarled, a voice Isabel immediately recognized as Analise’s. Isabel quickly rose to her feet and attacked with a strong right overhand punch. Analise stepped out of range, but before she could bring her hands up in defense, Isabel drove her shoulder into her chest, and she fell back, howling in pain. The rest crowded around her, throwing punches and making sure she would never be able to get back up again.

“Come on, we need to go… we don’t know how many of them are still out there,” Presten said, pulling Gavin’s body off the ground and started to make his way downhill. The rest followed, leaving Analise behind. Isabel tried to stop her mind from going off in all sorts of directions. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She had never felt this strong. Was it true that Presten had given her this strength? Better yet, was it true that they fed off each other’s strength? It was all an enigma to her; she needed time to get used to it.

“Wait,” Isabel said, suddenly freezing in her place. “Where’s Oz?”

All four of them stopped suddenly, like a flock of sheep that had been transfixed by some force of nature. “I’ll go,” Isabel said, her eyes locked on Presten’s. “The rest of you keeping going… we can’t all risk going back there again.”

Presten hesitated. “I think it would be better if you and I stuck together,” he said. Isabel thought about it for a second before realizing he was right. “Okay, but the rest, head for the other mansion… Presten and I will meet you there.”

“We’ll take Gavin with us,” Aden said, nodding. “Take care.”

“Alright, let’s go back,” Isabel said, her eyes following the rise of the flowery hill. It was pitch black, to the point that Isabel felt like the darkness would swallow her alive. But she soldiered on, smiling at Presten every now and then to give him strength. With him, she felt invisible, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t conquer the dark alone. Oz was right, she really was powerful, and when Presten was with her, she felt even more so, like she could take over the world. They ran up the hill, as if pushed by some supernatural force. “Wait,” Isabel said, stopping dead in her tracks. “I smell something.”

In the distance Presten could hear footsteps pushing through the crunchy leaves. He froze in his place as well, trying to listen for any unusual noises. “What is it?” he asked, his head tilted sideways.

“It’s Oz,” Isabel said, a smile settling over her face when she noticed his wings in the dark. He was limping in their direction; his body looking as though it would collapse at any second. “Oz!” Isabel said again, hurrying to him. She had never been so relieved to see someone in her life. “I’m— I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “Tell me, are you okay?” An immense amount of guilt washed over her. How could she have left Oz in there to die?

“No time for apologies,” Oz said, his voice firm. “We all need to get out of here… what happened to Gavin?”

“They’re taking him to the other mansion,” Presten said knowingly. “It’s the best that we could do right now; he needs to remain under our control.”

“There are still people in there,” Oz said, pointing to the flaming ball of fire on the very top of the hill. “We need to get them out.” Suddenly, Isabel heard footsteps again, but this time, there were many of them and they sounded like they were charging towards them. Her first instinct was to run the other way, but she remained pinned to her place; something told her she shouldn’t be running away.

“Isabel! Isabel!” the voices yelled from a distance. As the lurking figures came closer, Presten looked like he was ready for battle, but when he realized that they were succubi, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“They made it,” Isabel said, rather to herself. She found herself drifting closer to the sea of people and they welcomed her in their arms. She took a closer look: they were all covered up in dust and ash, and some of them had cuts and bruises all over their bodies. There must’ve been at least twenty of them, and Isabel could recognize them all as the people she had grown close to during her days at the mansion. “You made it!” Isabel screamed, leading the way back down the steep hill. The others followed her and in the background, she could hear some murmuring about an impending victory.

“They’re gone,” a voice said from behind her. “They’re all gone.”

“We burned them.”

“Stuck a wooden stake to their hearts.”

Isabel smiled to herself as she and Presten led the way downhill. The vampires were diminishing, but the battle was still far from over. They still had to head down to the other mansion, gather their allies, and work towards building a proper army. “I would say we’ve done a pretty good job, all of us,” Isabel said, flashing Presten a smirk.

“Succubi are strong, Isabel, there’s a reason why you and I didn’t have to go around rescuing each and every one of them from the fire,” Presten said knowingly. Isabel knew he was right. She wondered who was still in there and if any of the succubi hadn’t make it out alive. Her heart skipped a beat at the very idea of losing one of them, but she knew she had to soldier on if she wanted to make it to the mansion on time. It was almost dawn; they needed to hurry.

***

“Move away,” Isabel said, her eyes fixated on the guard’s. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Isabel had an entire army of succubi backing her; the guards didn’t really have that much of a choice. The air was tense and Isabel wondered if she needed a little bit more than an army to get through the gates to the mansion. “Alright, then, I’m going to say this one more time. Let me through.” She looked so deeply into the vampire’s eyes that he wouldn’t dare deny her. This was the first time Isabel had experienced full control over a vampire; the feeling was exhilarating. Without saying anything, the black winged guard opened up for them, and like an army of soldiers, they marched, pouring into the castle from all corners.

“Guards, what is this?” one of the vampires said, as he flew down the stairs. He froze when he saw Isabel standing in front of him. At that moment, he knew what she had come for. He knew who she was. “Step back,” he said, shaking his fist at her. “Step back! Guards!”

But they didn’t do anything. They were all transfixed, as if Isabel and Presten’s very presence was enough to keep them sedated. “Don’t move,” Isabel said, averting her gaze to the vampire standing at the bottom of the stairs. He froze in his place, as if trapped behind some sort of electromagnetic field. Every part of him was still except his eyes. Isabel and Presten remained focused on him but when more vampires appeared behind him, Isabel’s energy weakened and she found that she was unable to control all of them at once.

What was that? Isabel thought to herself. She felt the ground beneath her shake and when she turned to look at Presten, his eyes were fixated on a trapdoor hidden away under a rug at the far end of the room. The door shook, and then, without warning, it burst open, body after body lifting itself up and crawling into the room. Isabel felt her heart rise in her chest. The rebels. One by one, they climbed out, joining Isabel and Presten until they formed an army so large that all the vampires in the mansion combined couldn’t stop them. Together, they charged towards the vampires, pushing them aside and scurrying up the stairs. The sight was horrific. Isabel drove her shoulder into one dark winged vampire after another, wrestling them to the ground until they lay there, motionless. Nothing could stop them now; the vampires were severely outnumbered.

“Lock them up in the cells!” a voice yelled. “Give them a taste of their own medicine!”

Isabel watched on as all hell broke loose. The succubi were dragging the vampires down the trapdoor, throwing them into the cells and locking them inside. There were so many of them that they had to really cram them inside. Presten threw Gavin into one of the cells, too, but this one was secluded. He didn’t want Gavin mingling with anybody else. He was especially dangerous. The mansion was shaking underneath their feet; everyone was throwing punches at each other. Presten was battling with five vampires at once and Isabel was fighting off some shapeshifters that seemed to have sprung up on her out of nowhere. At one point, it became difficult to tell who was on whose side, but Isabel stayed focused on the wings. The battle continued on for what felt like an eternity, until the vampires were all locked up in cells, crammed in with no breathing space.

Isabel was left breathless. She scanned the dungeon with her eyes, trying to take in the scrunched-up faces of those locked inside. She spotted Gavin in solitary confinement and she flashed him a smirk when he stared at her hungrily.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” he mouthed to her. It sent chills down her spine.

***

CHAPTER 2

Isabel stayed over at the mansion. It took a lot of guts, but she knew she couldn’t be away from the prisoners for too long. There were too many of them, even though they were locked up tight. The succubi took nightly shifts to make sure the vampires couldn’t find their way out and by the end of the night, they were all passed out. A hand on her shoulder woke Isabel. “What, what’s going on?” she flinched, blinking repeatedly as the room swam in and out of focus. “Oz?”

“Hey,” he said, sitting down next to her. She had fallen asleep on a couch outside, right next to the trapdoor. She looked up and saw Oz’s face, and the truth was, she had never felt so relieved. He always had this way of making her feel safe; she didn’t know what she would do without him. Even last night, when she felt her most powerful, she knew she still needed him by her side. He had slept over next to her, as had Presten, and in a way, Isabel had never felt safer. But she still needed to know what Presten’s deal was; until now, she only knew a little about him. If they were going to work together, then she needed to find out more. That would have to wait until later.

“Hey,” she said finally, stroking Oz’s face with the back of her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he said, his lips curving to a smile. That smile she adored. She knew the real Oz when she saw him.

“Come here,” Isabel said, getting up and motioning for him to sit down at her feet. He gave his back to her and she ran her hands along his neck and slid them down to his chest, massaging them as she moved downwards. “I think you just need to relax, this’ll all be over soon.”

“Oh, it’s just begun,” Oz said, closing his eyes.

“Are you always this pessimistic?” Isabel asked, rolling her eyes.

“I’m just being realistic… you’ve got tens of vampires trapped in there, Isabel, and the vampire council doesn’t even know it yet. Do you realize how dangerous this is?”

“I do,” Isabel said, her voice trailing off. “But what were we supposed to do? At least now we’ve got them all in one place and we can control them to keep their mouths shut.”

“They’re too many to control,” Oz said. “We don’t have much time: they’ll break out eventually.”

Oz always made Isabel nervous. She knew he’s been around for way longer than she had and she felt powerless around him sometimes. “I think we should hold a meeting, all of us,” she said after a long pause.

“I was going to propose that we do that,” Oz said, grabbing Isabel’s hand and squeezing it. “We need to call Ava and Presten, now.”

“We’re right here,” Ava said, coming down the stairs. She looked surprisingly cheery for a girl who had been battling vampires the night before.

“Good morning,” Isabel said, motioning for Ava to come sit down. “Hey, Presten.”

“Hey, I overheard you talking about holding a meeting,” he said, sitting down next to Ava. “I stayed up all night thinking. I might be onto something.” There was a pause. “We need to get some information out of our guests’ downstairs in that cellar,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Isabel.

“Think we should torture them?” she asked. Do you hear yourself? Suddenly Isabel didn’t feel like herself anymore: since when was she that kind of person? Had being a supernatural being caused her to turn into a monster? She shook her head and looked straight ahead, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else.

“Yes,” Oz said solemnly. “We need to try and get them to confess to what’s happening,” he continued.

“Vampires usually don’t respond well to UV light,” Ava said, brushing the hair off her forehead. “We can use that to get them to talk.”

Isabel nodded, but deep down, she hated the monster she had become. It was true those vampires would probably eat her alive given the chance, but she hated the way she tended to resort to the most violent action to protect herself. “So, we’re going to extract information about the council?” Isabel asked, her eyes darting from Ava, to Oz, and then to Ava again. All three of them nodded collectively.

“We’re holding them hostages. The council’s going to find out sooner or later,” Ava said coldly. “We’re going to need to try and get them to talk before the council sends out a rescue mission to find them.”

Isabel nodded and looked away. She found herself in deep contemplation about her life again. Has she always been this aggressive as a person? Or were supernatural creatures different? Isabel thought she knew the answer to that. The movies were right about one thing; vampires were scary. She would be more than happy to demolish them, although she had no idea if their plan was foolproof. At that point, she just knew they had to move forward if they wanted to accomplish anything. “Alright, I think we should go check on the hostages now,” she said after a long pause.

All four of them rose to their feet and made a beeline for the trapdoor. It was oddly still, and it stayed that way throughout the entire night. Isabel had almost slept with one eye open; she had no idea if the vampires would try to escape. After all, there were so many of them down there; a collective effort on their part would’ve been disastrous. “I’m so fucking apprehensive,” Ava said, clenching her jaw. “What if they’re plotting something down there?”

“If we think like that, we’re screwed,” Presten said, glaring at Ava. “Oz, open up the trapdoor, why don’t you?”

Oz pulled the trapdoor open forcibly, all four of them climbing down to the cellar. “Wait, let me go first,” he said, motioning for Isabel to stay away. She wondered whether he still cared about her like she did about him, and deep down, she knew he did. Oz landed on his feet in the cellar. His nose crinkled at the smell, which must have resulted from the vampires being in there for so long without having a bathroom. Oz’s eyes darted from one ashen face to the other, and it was only then that he realized trying to question these fallen creatures was a lost cause. “Hey, check this out,” he said. The others landed on their feet next to him, their faces drooping to a scowl as soon as they caught the stench that was slowly diffusing to the top floor.

“That’s nasty,” Isabel said, her wrinkling her nose. She spotted Gavin in the corner. He looked just as tired as the rest of them. Asleep on his back, his wings were spread out to his sides. Isabel caught a glimpse of his chest slowly rising and falling and she breathed a sigh of relief. He was still alive. The fact that she felt such relief, though, made her question everything; it scared her shitless. Did she still care about Gavin? If he belonged to the enemy, then why should she care if he lived or died? The thoughts were driving her crazy, but right now, she knew she had to stay focused. “I don’t think we can question them right now,” she murmured to the others, watching as the vampires winced at the soft rays of light coming in through the trapdoor. “We’re just making them weaker… we can’t kill them, that’s not what we want. We want information.”

“You’re right,” Presten said, nodding. “I think we need to get them fed— that is, if we want to get something out of them.”

“I’ll go get it,” Ava said. Isabel walked over to Gavin, not taking her eyes off him. Oh, how the times have changed, she thought to herself.

“I heard that,” Gavin said, opening his eyes. Isabel froze. “I can still read your memory, you know… I created you, remember?” Suddenly she felt her heart drop to her knees. Was she never going to get rid of him? Even at his weakest moment, Gavin was still menacing, still annoying. Now Isabel just wanted to see him dead, as cruel as that sounded. She pretended not to hear him, but he was persistent. “You’re never going to get rid of me,” he said, smiling slowly. He closed his eyes and froze in the same position as before, not caring to roll over. He had been lying on his back since the night before; his lips were chapped and his face was an ashen white. Isabel wondered how much longer he still had to live. She fetishized starving him to death; at that point, Gavin was just a menace, something that reminded her of how weak she was, how incompetent. But she couldn’t let him get to her. She couldn’t let him win. She stomped one foot against the floor and looked him in the eyes.

“I’m going to block you out, you won’t know how to get to me anymore,” she said, her jaw clenched. Gavin just stared at her and grimaced. “You look like you want to say something,” Isabel said, leaning in close to him. Gavin didn’t threaten her anymore, or at least, she was getting used to the idea that she was hundreds of times stronger than he was.

“I, I,” he breathed. The corners of his mouth looked as though they had been glued together and he was left mumbling words that even Isabel could not understand. He closed his eyes and stiffened back into his initial position. A smile settled over Isabel’s face; she was in control again.

“I’m back,” Ava said, her legs appearing through the trapdoor. She carried three trays of food, not nearly enough to suffice for the number of hostages trapped inside the cells. She walked over to Isabel, trying not to drop anything. “This should get ‘em talking,” she said, her lips curving to the contended maw of a wolf after feasting on a fallen elk. There was a sudden movement in the cells. It was like the vampires could smell the food and they flinched awake one by one, trying to sniff for anything to eat. They gawked at Ava hungrily, their eyes darting from her face, to the plates of food, and then to her face again. If she wasn’t mistaken, they looked like they were about to bite her face off.

“I think we’re going to need more food than just that if we’re going to feed them all,” Presten said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t see you moving,” Ava said bitterly. “The kitchen’s up there.”

Presten smiled to himself. “You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?” he muttered. “Isabel, would you like to come with me?”

“Sure,” she said, averting her gaze to Oz, who nodded at her. Presten hopped out of the basement first, reaching his hand back to Isabel so he could pull her out with him. “Do you know exactly where the kitchen is?” Isabel asked, staring somewhere over Presten’s shoulder. The place was totally unfamiliar to her, which, in some ways, she found to be extremely unsettling.

“Ava said it’s a few floors above,” Presten said. “I guess we’re going to have to find out.” They made their way up the stairs, which seemed to spiral forever. It was awfully quiet and Isabel thought something would jump out at them at any second. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you… how old are you?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Twenty-four,” Isabel said without giving it much thought.

“No, how old are you?” Presten asked, popping his neck forward.

“Oh,” Isabel said, her eyebrows furrowed. “In succubus years?” Presten nodded. “Around six months,” she smiled, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

“Me, too,” Presten said, tilting his head sideways. Their heels clicked against the hardwood floor, the silence of the halls even more smothering than before. Isabel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out; a familiar feeling was trickling through her, the feeling of hunger. This past week has been nothing but overwhelming for her and for the first time in days Isabel was able to bask in the silence. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to make conversation with Presten, but she was exhausted. “We’re both pretty new to this, I would say,” he said again, turning to look at her.

Isabel noticed his eyes. They were deep, electrifying, even, and for some reason she couldn’t stop staring at them. “I would say we are,” she said, holding his gaze for a second before she looked away. “How did you feel when you first found out?” she asked.

There was a pause. “I found it to be quite hilarious, to tell you the truth,” he said. “It was Rene, my maker, who told me. My first reaction was; I fuck two girls on one night and I get this?”

Isabel chuckled. “I felt the same way,” she said. “Although, I felt like something about me was different… I knew something was terribly wrong.”

“Terribly wrong… or undeniably right?” he asked.

“You know, even after all this time, I really can’t tell you,” Isabel said, shaking her head.

“You’re a very special creature, Isabel,” Presten said. “You’re the type they hear about in legends.”

“And so are you, I’m assuming?” she asked, her head cocked to the side. At that point, they were just pacing the halls. Isabel wondered if Presten had forgotten about the task at hand.

“No,” Presten shook his head. “You’re different. In mythology, women are portrayed as goddesses, because they are.” Isabel could tell he was flirting.

“You flatter me,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. Presten couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic.

“You’re really hard to tap into, you know that?” he asked. There was a pause.

“You know, in this world, it’s really hard to know who you can trust,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I know I can trust you, or else we wouldn’t be here… but I’ve been through hell trying to figure out who was on my side and who wasn’t. So I’m careful now.”

“You have every right,” Presten said, his eyes roaming her face and neck as they walked. “It’s hard to tell who you’re talking to, let alone figure out who’s on your side.”

“Yes!” Isabel jumped. “The shapeshifters, Presten, oh, the shapeshifters!”

“Have you encountered any recently?”

“Let’s just say… I’ve spent a considerable amount of time sleeping with the enemy without even knowing it,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Presten shook his head. “That sounds horrible,” he admitted. “What if I told you Rene, my maker, turned her back on us all and joined the vampire council?”

“What?” Isabel asked, her eyes wide as a set of plates.

Presten nodded. “She’s really close with… the King vampire, if you’ve heard of him.”

“I’ve heard stories,” Isabel said. “But I’m not sure—”

“Oh, hey, there’s the kitchen,” Presten said, sprinting for the door. He pushed it open and flicked on the lights, his eyes travelling up and down the black decaying walls. This mansion was nowhere near as fancy or luxurious as the last one. Isabel stepped inside, and could immediately feel the cold air envelope her entire body. Splotches of the original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity; has this one caught fire, too?

“Well, this is definitely spooky,” Isabel said, her arms folded across her chest. The windows were covered with grime and dirt, and a large jagged hole dug through the wall as though daring anyone to enter. “Let’s just get this over with,” Presten said, walking over to the fridge door and swung it open. Oddly enough, it was filled to the brim with food. Together, they took out some fruit, a jug of water and some leftovers, and soon enough, they were on their way back down. As they walked, Isabel became more and more certain that the mansion was filled with secrets, and she was adamant she would find them out. The corridors seemed to stretch out indefinitely, and she knew that if she were to unlock a single one of the doors, she would be opening up the gates to a never-ending maze of halls and passageways. “Do you want to come back and check this place out?” she asked Presten, a smirk on her face.

“Do you really think we should be loitering around here?” Presten asked.

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?” Isabel asked, strutting down the hallway. “Seriously, though, we kind of need to figure out the anatomy of this place if we’re ever going to carry on this battle.”

There was a pause. “You’re absolutely right,” Presten said. They climbed down the trapdoor leading to the cellar. “This should last them the night,” Presten said, setting the food down on the floor in front of the hostages. They eyed him hungrily, as if ready to pounce at any second.

“I think you’re going to have to go back for more,” Oz said.

Presten opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Isabel stopped him. “We’re on it,” she said, cocking her head to the side. She and Presten exchanged brief glances, and it was only then that he realized Isabel wanted to go on an adventure.

“We’ll be back in a second,” he said with a smirk.

CHAPTER 3

“So, do you know anything about this mansion?” Isabel asked, looking around curiously once they were alone.

“I’ve been here quite a lot,” Presten said. “It was never the most pleasant experience… they tried to hold me hostage here, more than once, but I always managed to escape.”

“Do you think Analise and Gavin have rooms in here?” she asked, ignoring his moment of triumph.

“They do,” he said mischievously. “What, you think you’re the only one here up for an adventure?”

Isabel smiled and followed him. He took a right and headed down one of the corridors, surveying one decaying door after the other. “I don’t know everything in this mansion, but this, I know,” he said, standing in front a pair of swinging doors at the far end of the hallway. Isabel pushed one of them and they begrudgingly creaked open. A musty, dank stench travelled up her nostrils. The house was dead silence except for the intermittent creaks and moans that echoed everywhere as they walked across the floorboards. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling in clusters, evidence of rain seeping through the roof. “So, what are we looking at?” Isabel asked, her nose wrinkled.

“Gavin’s room,” Presten replied.

Isabel felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Finally it settled with her that Gavin had this whole other life, a life she knew nothing about. She walked across the suite, looking at the musty walls. “This room’s too shabby to be Gavin’s room,” she said, rather to herself.

“I wasn’t allowed to enter,” Presten said. “I only caught glimpses.”

Isabel stopped when she noticed a closet at the far end of the suite. She walked over to it, swung it open and started searching through Gavin’s clothes. Suddenly her sleeve got hooked on something and she let out a gasp. It was a doorknob. “Presten, check this out,” she hissed, motioning for him to join her. Presten crept up behind her, and as soon as she felt him brush up on her back, an electric current flowed through her.

“What is it?” he asked, leaning in close to her ear. Isabel would have liked to let him take her right then and there, but she was wise enough to know that this little discovery of hers was much, much more important.

“It’s a doorknob,” she said. “But the door’s locked.” The both of them sighed in frustration, and then, desperately, Isabel started searching for the key in the pockets of Gavin’s clothes. “It’s not there,” she said, clenching her eyes. “What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Presten said, his eyebrows furrowed. “I think we might find the key somewhere around here,” he continued, looking around the room. He probed near the bedside table, pulling its drawers open and searching inside. Nothing. “Gavin probably has it,” he said.

“No, it might be lying around here,” Isabel said, her voice stern. “We need to find it, who knows what could be in there?”

They must have spent an hour searching. Isabel flipped the mattress over, crawled under the bed and ripped the pillow sacks apart, but still, she found nothing. She rose to her feet and clasped her hands behind her head. This was hopeless. “Oh my God,” she said. “I’ve never been so frustrated in my life.”

“Hey, come look at this,” Presten said. Isabel jumped to where he was, and when she realized he was holding a pair of books, she snatched them from him. “I see you’re excited,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. He was beginning to think Isabel was a little controlling. She realized it herself, not that she was apologetic about it.

“Oh my God,” she said, flipping through the pages. She closed the leather-bound book and stared at its cover. “No title,” she said, opening it up again and beginning to skim through its pages. What she saw shocked her. “Hey, Presten, d’you think this is Gavin’s handwriting?” she asked, her eyes darting from Presten, to the squiggly pen lines, and then to Presten again.

“I am absolutely certain of it,” he said.

“How can you be so sure, though?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Isabel, we’re in Gavin’s room, this is his study,” Presten said. “Who else’s handwriting would it be?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Isabel said, her eyes fixated on the lines of writing. They were awfully hard to decipher. “Alright, this is going to need some looking into,” she said, closing the book and tucking it under her arm. “Let’s save it for later.”

“Are you sure you wanna do that?” Presten asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “I, personally, have never been more curious.”

“I’m even more curious to see what’s behind that door,” Isabel said, ignoring him. She scanned the room one last time before she pounced on the bed again and started tucking her hands underneath the mattress.

“We’ve already looked there,” Presten said, heading for the coatrack. “Maybe it’s in one of those pockets,” he said.

“Did you find anything?” Isabel asked impatiently as he finished searching the pockets.

“No, nothing.”

“This is hopeless.”

Isabel clasped her hands behind her head again and started pacing the room. Deep down, she knew they wouldn’t find anything. Gavin was smarter than that; he wouldn’t leave an important key lying around like that for anyone to find. He must’ve taken it with him. She thought about ambushing him in the cells, but she knew that was a horrible idea. He would probably resist with so much force that even Isabel wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“I think we should call it a day,” she said finally.

“I think so, too,” Presten said, his eyes fixated on the chipped walls. “Besides, this room is giving me the creeps.”

“Let’s just head back down,” Isabel said. “But we’re going to come back, and we’re going to find that key.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Presten asked. Isabel nodded. “Just remember to take those books with you.”

“I will,” she said, flashing Presten a smirk. “You don’t think I’m that forgetful, do you?” They headed for the door, but when Presten reached the end of the corridor, he was alone.

“You gonna come with me, or?” he called back to Isabel.

“I think we should assign ourselves rooms, first,” she said. “Because by the looks of it, we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Where would you like to stay?”

“Well, when I was staying at the old mansion, the vampires were sure to assign me a room in the tower… they said they wanted to make me feel special or some shit, and, of course, I fell for it.” There was a pause. “Turns out they were just trying to isolate me from all that was happening. How could I have been so blind?”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Presten said, stepping back along the hallway. “We’ve got the entire mansion to ourselves, we can pick whatever room we want.”

“That’s true,” Isabel said, smiling. “I think we should look for a room a couple of floors down… just so we’re closer to all the happenings.”

Presten led the way downstairs as they strutted down the corridor, their eyes darting from one bedroom door to the other. “I find this door to be quite appealing,” Isabel said sarcastically. Besides Gavin’s room, they all looked the same. “I’ll just stay in here,” she said, picking out a room at random. She swung the door open and stepped inside. She had started to feel the hunger gnawing at her and thought it might be best if she and Presten parted ways. “Would you like to stay in the room next to me?” she asked.

“I would very much like to,” he replied, the corners of his lips curving upwards. Isabel knew what he was thinking. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think the same. But she knew she had to resist it; any imbalance could possibly cost them their lives. After all, Isabel had been warned time and time again not to feed on anyone else but Gavin and Oz, and even though she now knew that all she had learned was bullshit, these ideas were still engrained in her mind. The truth was, Isabel was having a hard time unlearning the things that were once so integral to her being. She was lost, like a little girl trying to find her way. One thing was for sure, though, she was free to have sex with whoever the fuck she wanted.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” she asked, eyeing Presten as he retreated into the room across from hers. He nodded, flashing her a coy smile before he closed the door behind him. Isabel stepped back into her room, her mind spinning with images of Presten and what he could possibly do to her. She could feel herself getting wet, but she shrugged it off, trying to distract herself with anything else. “Maybe if I go out, I can get my mind off this,” she thought. But where would she go? She couldn’t leave the mansion right now; that was her responsibility. So she just wandered around the corridors, opening up random doors to see what was inside.

“Hello, Isabel,” a voice said, as she opened a door. It took her a second or two to realize that the voice belonged to Oz.

“Oz, what are you doing here?” she asked. “Weren’t you guarding the vampires?”

“Well, you guys were taking too long, so I thought I’d check up on you,” he said. Isabel knew he was up to something. He was spread out over the bed, as if waiting for her to barge in there at any second. Was he jealous of Presten?

“I appreciate that,” Isabel said, staring down at her feet. Seeing Oz always seemed to make her feel better.

“Why are you standing all the way over there? Come here.”

Isabel’s feet steered her in his direction. After all this time, Oz still had the most control over her; he was her weakness, the one person she knew she would never get over. It had occurred to her that maybe he had the most power over her because she loved him so much, but then she dismissed the idea, thinking that succubi don’t fall for angels, they don’t fall for anyone. “Are you going to stay in this room?” she asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, it’s about time I get some rest from the cold hard prison cells, don’t you think?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her. Isabel moved in closer. He was reeling her in. Her head was on his chest and she could hear the sound of his heartbeat.

“I missed that sound,” she said, burying her head in his chest. All at once, she took in his smell, that smell she had missed so much. She had been away from him for so long; all she wanted right now was to be one with him. He pulled her even closer to him.

“I missed you,” he whispered. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, and they made out in rhythmic, synchronized motion. She found herself lost in his arms, and everything around her seemed to melt, everything but him. He was the only one she saw, the only one she knew she wanted. Her memory of anyone else just melted away; his touch was the only touch she craved. His hands spread over to her thighs and he squeezed them lightly. Instantly, she could feel the fluids trickling down her leg. She had never been so drawn to someone in her life, and deep down, she knew no one else would measure up to him.

“I want you so much right now,” she said against his lips. And suddenly, he rolled up on top of her, pressing his entire weight against her.

“Just the way you like it,” he hissed. Isabel closed her eyes and freed her mind. She knew she wouldn’t be craving anything or anyone else in a long, long time.

CHAPTER 4

“So, what are you thinking?” Oz asked, brushing a hand through Isabel’s silky brown locks.

“I’m thinking how much I’ve missed you,” she said, raising her eyes to his. He planted a kiss on her forehead and continued to stroke her hair. “What, don’t you miss me?” she asked, her eyes boring into his.

“It’s not that… I’m just speechless,” he said, staring back at her. “Isabel, I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are.”

“And I don’t think you realize how much I love you,” she said after a long pause.

“I love you, too,” he said. They sat in silence. It had occurred to Isabel that maybe this was the first time she had ever been in love. When she was with Oz, all her doubts seemed to disappear, to dissipate into thin air. She felt safe with him and only him. “You know, the hardest part of all of this was having to be away from you.”

“It was hard on me, too,” Isabel admitted. “It was really scary, seeing you in the state you were in... at one point I didn’t know if you would live or die.”

“I didn’t know, either. Isabel, you have no idea how much I’ve suffered without you. You’ve given me strength.” He paused for a second, clearing his throat. “When Mikael decided to replace me, they locked me up in this room… and they tore off my wings and threw me into the cell. I thought it would be worth it, but it turns out, I was an idiot.”

“There was no way you could’ve seen that coming,” Isabel said, her eyes swelling up with tears. The truth was, she couldn’t stand to see Oz get hurt. She knew how much he had suffered in those cells, and as much as she wanted to listen to him, it still hurt like a bitch. Somehow, she felt responsible for all of this. Was there anything more she could’ve done to prevent this? Were there any red flags she should’ve paid attention to? Of course there were. She knew from the second she saw Mikael that something was wrong. She knew he didn’t have Oz’s spirit in him. But she stayed quiet about it, thinking that maybe she was wrong. “I’m the one at fault here,” she said, sniffing. “I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve known that something was wrong.”

“Hey, there was no way you could’ve seen that coming,” Oz said, his lips curving to a smile as he repeated her words back to her. “I think we should both just give ourselves a break,” he continued, stroking her face with the back of his hand. “From now on, promise me you won’t worry about anything.”

“I can’t guarantee you that,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I won’t rest until we end this, all of this.”

“And we will,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “You just need to believe in yourself, and in Presten.”

“Right, Presten,” she smiled. She didn’t know what it was about the mention of his name that made her uneasy. Perhaps she wanted to feed on him just as much. Perhaps she would, someday.   

“Isabel,” Oz said, brushing his hand under Isabel’s chin. “Don’t let me hold you back. We have a great time together, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feed on anyone else.”

Isabel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She wanted to tell Oz that she loved him more than anyone, that there was no one else she would rather feed on or be with, but she held back. Oz made her weak, and she didn’t like feeling weak, not anymore. “You’re right,” she said after a long pause. “You’re not holding me back… I want to be here right now, with you.”

“Well, I was just making sure,” he said, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “I want you to forget everything you learned while I was away… I want you to start over.”

“And I will,” Isabel said, raising her eyes to him. “I promise.”

“We need to meet up, all of us, to plan our next move. Isabel, are you with me?”

She looked at him with the determination of a thousand warriors. “I’m with you.”

CHAPTER 5

Isabel woke up with a strange sense of contentedness. Her nights spent with Oz always seemed to recharge her, to make her feel whole again. She was ready for that meeting. “Hey, hey,” she whispered into his ear. He shifted in his place before he drifted off to sleep again. “Hey, Oz.”

“What?” he jumped. “Is it time for our meeting?”

“I would say so,” she smiled. “Come on, let’s call the rest… we need all the time we can get.”

Not long after all four of them were back around the round table next to the trapdoor. Every now and again, Ava would climb down, leave the hostages some food and then climb out again, a weary look on her face. “They don’t look so good,” she said, shaking her head. “They’re in really bad shape.”

“Word’s going around that the vampire council’s out looking for them,” Presten said, rising to his feet and beginning to pace the room. “One of the hostages threatened me last time I brought them food… he said the vampires would come for us. I’m surprised they haven’t, yet.”

“They must be plotting something,” Isabel said, looking a little frantic. “You can never really predict their next move.”

“They’re going to come for us, we just need to be ready for when they do,” Oz said. There was a pause. “Holy shit,” he said suddenly. “We’re missing something.”

“What, what do you mean?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “Oz, talk to me.” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He clenched his eyes shut, and for a moment it looked like he was mumbling to himself.

“They’re rebuilding the old mansion,” he hissed, his eyes fixated on the wall behind Isabel. “They’re trying to find another headquarters, and they’re leaving us to plan here like idiots!”

Isabel felt a lump rise in her throat. “This’s crazy,” she said, shaking her head in denial. “Do you think a lot of them made it out alive after the fire?”

“Right before the fire, the vampires had reached their peak; there were more of them at the mansion than we could count,” Oz said. “Gavin had already recruited tens, maybe hundreds of them… the hostages we have down there are nothing compared to the rest!”

Suddenly it hit Isabel that they were all severely outnumbered. Gavin had managed to round up so many vampires while Oz was away. It was unbelievable he had gotten away with it. Isabel kicked herself for never questioning him, for letting all of this fly past her. She felt stupid, but right now, she knew how to recognize a vampire when she saw one. “But they’re still going to come for them,” she said finally. “They’re going to reassemble their army and attack us here. We need to act, fast.”

“I know what we need to do,” Oz said, his eyes darting from Presten, to Ava, and then to Presten again. “You two need to go visit the mansion.”

“What, are you crazy?” Isabel asked, slamming her hand against the table. “This is insane, do you want to get the both of them killed?”

“Do you seriously think I would suggest such a plan if I thought it would backfire?” Oz asked, suddenly agitated. “Isabel, let me convince you on this.”

“Why don’t we just let them speak for themselves?” she asked, nodding towards Presten and Ava, who were seated across from them.

“I think Oz has a point,” Presten said. “A lot of the vampires don’t even know who I am or what I look like… they may know me by name, or that I’m the chosen one, but very few of them have actually seen me.” But Isabel wasn’t convinced. She shook her head in protest; were Presten and Ava about to throw themselves into the fire?

“What about Rene?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “What if she sees you?”

“We’ll be careful,” Ava said, leaning across the table. “Isabel, you don’t have to worry about us… I know the old mansion like the back of my hand, nothing bad can happen.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Isabel said.

“See, now that’s crazy.”

“If you can go, then I can go, too.”

“Isabel, no,” Oz said, jumping to his feet. “This isn’t going to happen; do you realize how impulsive you’re being?”

“These people know you, they’ve been after you for months now,” Presten said, his eyes locked on Isabel’s. Suddenly it felt like an intervention. The three of them were hunched over and staring at Isabel; they were going to talk her out of it if it was the last thing they did.

“And what am I supposed to do, stay behind?” she asked, suddenly furious.

“No, you’re going to come with me; we’re going to have a little talk with Gavin,” Oz said, raising an eyebrow at her. The sound of Gavin’s name sent shivers down Isabel’s spine; he was always there, at the back of her mind, taunting her. The very idea of having to face him made her skin crawl. “You and I, we can’t be at the other mansion, but what we can do is this: we’re going to go down there to the cellars and you’re going to try and get as much information out of Gavin as you possibly can.”

“And what about you? What are you gonna do?” Isabel asked, tugging at the tips of her hair.

“I’m going to come with you, but I’m not going to be in the picture,” Oz said. “Gavin’s more likely to trust you, to talk to you. I’m going to hide, and whenever you feel like he’s not giving you enough information, the information you need, that’s when I come in.”

Isabel wondered what that meant. She knew she could bend Gavin, or at least she thought she could, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use some help. She and Oz made a great team; with him, she felt like she could do anything. But a part of her was still scared for Presten and Ava; what if they got caught? “I’m going to trust you on this one,” she said to Oz after a long pause. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but I feel like we all need to get it together. I’m proud of us, I really am, but this is only just the beginning.”

The other three nodded solemnly, and then Oz reached his hand out to Isabel, motioning for her to get up. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go down there… we don’t have much time.”

Isabel took his hand and squeezed it. “Wait,” she breathed. “I’m, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” Oz said, blinking at her. “I’m going to be right there with you… we’re going to do this together.” He pulled her hand just a little bit more until she couldn’t resist him. They exchanged brief glances before Oz pulled the trapdoor open and climbed down. He nodded towards Gavin’s cell, and as Isabel slowly started tiptoeing her way across the dungeon, he crouched down in the corner, trying not to draw any attention to himself. The cells were so silent that even Oz was afraid. It had occurred to him that a hostage’s silence was not an indication of desperation, but of confidence. The vampire council already had their eyes out; maybe these hostages were just waiting for the right time to be rescued. Oz held his breath while Isabel made her way for Gavin’s cell. Deep down, he prayed she could do this on her own.

“Hello, Isabel,” Gavin said, lifting his head off the floor. He had been lying, half-asleep, on his stomach, and had raised himself on his elbows when a pair of feet that he immediately recognized as Isabel’s, came into his line of vision. His gaze travelled up and down her body like a hungry wolf eyeing his prey. “What brought you here?” he asked, standing, then raising himself up on the balls of his feet before sinking to his knees again. He had a smile plastered to his face, that smile Isabel despised so much.

She squatted down in front of him. “I’m here,” she started, “to ask you a few questions.”

“And what might those be?” Gavin asked, his pearly teeth showing through his smile. Isabel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. It’s happening, she thought to herself. “Come on, Isabel, cat got your tongue?” he asked. Isabel could feel the heat boiling up inside her.

“What’s the council’s next move? When are they coming for us, for you?” she asked, leaning in close to him. Her face was only inches from his, and she could feel his hot breath against her skin; it made her sick.

Gavin chuckled. “Ah, Isabel, you’re still naive… I thought you would’ve learned by now, but you’re still your old gullible self, how amazing!”

“You tell me, now!” Isabel hissed, reaching out and grabbing Gavin by the collar. “What’s the council’s next move?!” Gavin’s face drooped to a scowl. Their eyes locked on like magnets. Isabel figured she’d have to do a little bit more if she wanted him to talk. She found herself focusing on an empty space in the air between them, her hands slowly retreating from his collar and latching onto his neck. Gavin didn’t wince. Eyes narrowed and he got a vertical wrinkle between his eyebrows. His lips pursed slightly.

“Home, home,” he breathed. Isabel stared brazenly into his eyes.

“Home?” she said.

“Home, home,” he hissed. “Home is where the heart is.”

Isabel’s hands shook. She knew she had him right where she wanted him. She couldn’t lose her focus; she had to hold on. At the far end of the dungeon Oz lay with his eyes clenched shut. Little did Isabel know that he was right there with her. “What home?” Isabel asked, her grip around Gavin’s neck tightening. “Gavin, what home?”

“Get off me!” he snarled. Isabel’s arms fell limp to her side. Suddenly the whole dungeon fell silent. For a moment, she knew she had him, but then it all dwindled away for no apparent reason. Isabel turned around, her eyes scanning the place. Oz was still tucked away somewhere; she was glad no one could see him. “Oh, Isabel, did you really think it was that simple?” Gavin asked, raising an eyebrow at her. His lips curved to a menacing smile, and when Isabel tried to reel him in again, he snapped his fingers repeatedly, ordering her to stop. “We don’t have to do this, you don’t have to do this,” he said, shaking his head frantically. “You’re getting to me, you’re getting to me.”

“Home is where the heart is?” Isabel asked, popping her head in through the gap between the iron bars of his cell. “Tell me, what is your secret?”

“Isabel, stop, you don’t want to do this… you know you don’t, you still care about me and we both know it,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. His voice softened and his grip on the iron bars loosened; for a second, Isabel thought she would give into his orders. Her mind conjured up images of the two of them together; Gavin’s arms were around her, he was cradling her to sleep. She thought she would melt into his arms, but then she snapped out of it. Like a slap across the face, Isabel felt a gush of cold air hit her, but it wasn’t coming from outside. She knew it was Oz. He was the one controlling her.

“I won’t pity you,” she snarled. “That’s enough.”

Gavin shot her a glare before he retreated back into his cell. He crawled up into a fetal position and started cradling himself to sleep. Isabel rose to her feet and climbed out of the cell, and when the coast was clear, Oz followed her. “Well, what now?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know what to make of this.”

“Neither do I,” Oz said, slamming the trapdoor shut. “You did a good job, though, I’m proud of you.”

“Not good enough, apparently,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Or else we would’ve had more information by now.”

“Hey, just cut yourself some slack, okay? Even the two of us combined couldn’t control him… but we almost had him, maybe next time…”

“There won’t be a next time, don’t you see?” Isabel asked, a look of frustration on her face. “The council are going to break in eventually… they’re probably plotting right now.”

“Which is why Presten and Ava have a job to do… they’re on their way right now,” Oz said, brushing a hand through Isabel’s hair. “I don’t want you to worry, Isabel, just be patient. Everything will fall into place.” But Isabel wasn’t listening. In her mind’s eyes, she could see Gavin’s face shining in the dimness of the cells, mouthing the words “home is where the heart is” to her. She thought about what that could mean. She thought about whether he was just trying to fuck with her. Gavin repulsed her and all she wanted right now was to get rid of him. “Isabel, I think you should get some rest.” Oz’s voice seeped into her consciousness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, sighing. “I think I just need to lie down for a while.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, his lips coming to a smile.

“I think— I think I just need to be alone.”

Isabel ran for the stairs. She felt like she was going to hurl. She swung the door to her room open and collapsed into bed, her mind racing with a million thoughts at once. At that point, she was filled with doubt. She heard a knock at her door; she knew it would be Oz. But she decided she just wanted to be alone. She rolled over away from the door and the first thing she saw was the pile of books from last night. Immediately, she grabbed them off the floor and started skimming through them. The Earth and the Supernatural, one of them read, but the rest were untitled. “Well, what do we have here?” she asked herself as she flipped the book open. Deep down, she was scared to even look at it. This literary work taps into the role of the supernatural in shaping the natural world we know today… Isabel clutched the book in her hands for a moment before she flipped it open again. Shapeshifters, vampires, the vampire council and the succubi; it was all in this book. The origin of vampires, angels and shapeshifters, one of the chapter titles read. “Looks like I’ll be up all night reading this,” Isabel thought. Oz continued to knock on her door and she continued to ignore him.

CHAPTER 6

Oz sat by the fireplace, not moving. His eyes were fixated on the rising flames, and when he heard a knock at the mansion door, he shot up, startled, thinking it must be Presten and Ava. “Welcome back,” he said, his lips coming to a smile the second he saw them standing in the doorway. Behind him stood four or five strangers, who Oz immediately recognized as fellow angels and succubi. “Hello,” he said graciously. “Come on in.”

“See, I told you we wouldn’t disappoint you,” Ava said playfully. “No one knew it was us and we managed to rally up some allies, too.”

“Hi,” one of them said, peering at Presten through her bangs. He shook her hand and smiled at her, and it wasn’t long before she realized she needed to introduce herself. “I’m Nadia, a succubus from a small town here in France.”

“Hello, Nadia,” Presten said. But he was too distracted. The rest of them stared at him with wide eyes, like little kids meeting their teacher on the first day of school. “It’s nice to meet you all,” he said finally. “Are you all succubi?” They nodded in robotic motion. Presten didn’t know if this was a sign of discipline, respect, or just weak character. “Where’s Isabel?” he asked, looking around.

“Isabel has been in her room for quite some time now,” Oz said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t know what’s with her. She seems… distracted.” The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He just wanted to crawl into bed with her, pull her close. But she was too “in her head” to even talk to him right now.

“Did anything happen?” Ava asked eagerly. “Did she talk to Gavin?”

“Home is where the heart is,” Oz said, avoiding eye contact. “Does that saying ring any bells for you?”

Ava shook her head. “No,” she said. There was a pause. “The vampires are still working on renovating the house. They’re still assigning everyone their rooms, still taking care of their injured. I would say we still have time.”

“That’s… optimistic,” Oz said, seemingly distracted. “Let’s not rely on that thought. I think it would be best if we plan ahead.”

“You’re right,” Ava said, folding both her arms across her chest. “Do you think we should go check on Isabel?” she asked.

“I tried, but she won’t answer the door,” he said. “But anyway, right now, we need to assign everyone their rooms. Ava, where would you like to stay?”

“I think it’s about time I stayed in the tower,” she said teasingly. The others stared back blankly. “Right, not a time for jokes?”

“Most certainly not.”

“Alright, I think we should spread out; Presten and Isabel already have rooms next to the dungeon… you and me, we can move a bit higher up,” she said.

“Sounds about right,” Oz said, folding both of his arms across his chest and shifting his weight to one leg. “Oh, hey, look who decided to crawl out of their cave.” Isabel smiled at him as she thumped her way down the hall. Her feet were clammy against the hardwood floorboards, but she couldn’t be bothered to put any shoes on.

“Hello,” she said, a smile plastered to her face. Her eyes immediately went to the five strangers standing next to Ava and she nodded at them graciously. “I see Ava has brought along some allies, welcome,” she said. 

“Where have you been?” Presten asked, walking over to her.

“I’ve been reading,” Isabel said. “Oz, those books we found… I skimmed through them a little bit.”

“Gavin’s memoirs?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“No, I’ve left those till the end,” she said, flashing him a smirk. “I went through some history books, here, check this out.” She threw him the leather-bound book she had been reading for the past couple of hours. “This is… this is pretty interesting stuff. Did you know that Presten and my names are written in there?” she asked, a glimmer in her eyes.

“Of course they are! They don’t call them prophecies for nothing,” Oz said, flipping through the book without actually reading it. Isabel wondered why he was so disinterested. “Does it say anything about the final battle?” he asked.

Isabel felt her stomach churn at the mentioning of a final battle. “I don’t know, I haven’t come across anything about that just yet,” she said, shaking her head. Deep down, she didn’t really want to know. “Oz, I really think we should go back and look for that key.”

“I think we should… but first, let’s go down and see how the hostages are,” he said, nodding towards the trapdoor. It looked so ominous, as if something would spring out of it at any second.

“We should feed them,” Isabel said to Ava and Presten.

“It’s your turn,” Ava said slyly. “Just be careful… Gavin’s an aggressive one.”

“You’re telling me,” Isabel said, turning to look at Oz. But he was already gone. A few minutes later he came back with no less than four trays of food, stacked on top of each other. Isabel slid down the trapdoor and walked to Gavin’s cell. She just wanted to get this over with. After their last confrontation, Isabel was weary of how he’d react to her presence. Stop being so scared of him, what could he possibly do? She needed to stop being ridiculous. Isabel had Gavin right where she wanted him; she knew she had the upper hand. As she walked quietly to his cell she realized he was asleep, so she just set the tray down on the floor next to him and stared at his black mass of a body for a while before turning to leave. “Wait, what?” she whispered to herself, turning to look at him again. In the darkness, she caught a glimpse of a tiny glint on Gavin’s chest. She moved in closer, not sure if what she was seeing was real or just a figment of her imagination. She moved in closer and realized it was a key. Holy shit.

“Isabel, Isabel,” Oz whispered from the other side of the cells. Isabel jumped. She couldn’t let Gavin hear him. She crouched down and focused all her powers towards Oz; maybe, just maybe, she could get through to him.

Oz, Oz, listen to me, can you hear me? I’m inside your head.

The silence was too dense to bear. Somehow, Isabel was trying to penetrate this silence without being heard. I can hear you, Oz came through. For a moment Isabel couldn’t believe this actually worked. Had she been capable of telepathy all along?

Alright, I’m going to need you to hide… I think I found what we were looking for. She clenched her eyes and waited for an answer, but when she never got one, she figured Oz already got the message. The air was so still that even the sound of Oz’s breathing went unheard. She shouldered her way through the iron bars, her eyes still fixated on the small glittery spot on Gavin’s chest. The floor creaked beneath her and she wondered if Gavin would wake up. She wondered if any of the vampires would wake up. They all looked so weak. By the looks of it, some of them wouldn’t make it through the night. But Isabel needed them to hang in there; she needed to use them as bait for the council. Gavin wasn’t moving. His chest was rising and falling to the beat of his breath and when Isabel got close enough, she made sure that this was the key she was looking for. If Gavin kept it secure around his neck, then it must be valuable. She reached out and grabbed it, slowly pulling it off his neck. The rope brushed up against his skin and his head jerked to the left, as if he was being tickled. Isabel let go of the key. For a second, she thought she would run, but when she realized he was still asleep, she knew now was her chance. In one swift move, she snatched the key and took off, but before she could make a run for it, Gavin’s eyes shot open.

“Oh my God,” Isabel said, feeling his fingers tighten around her wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, getting up. “Do you think I’m stupid, Isabel? Do you think I’m some kind of an idiot?”

Isabel wanted to run. Her eyes were darting back and forth frantically, and she let out a gasp. Suddenly she saw a pair of feet landing into the cellar. Presten.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gavin asked as Presten’s face swam into view. Maybe Oz was right; maybe the council really didn’t know what Presten looked like. “Isabel, you’ve got some explaining to do,” Gavin said, his grip on her wrist tightening. Isabel winced.

“Hey, you stay away from her!” Presten snarled. Gavin didn’t flinch.

“You think that just because you’ve got me locked up in here that I’m going to do whatever you want me to? Well, you’re wrong!” Gavin said, letting go of Isabel’s arm. She let out a squeal. “Izzy, honey, what’s wrong, are you hurt?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Isabel looked at him and then looked away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said again. “You know I wouldn’t do that… I just want you to mind your own business, that’s all.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she hissed.

“And what about this guy over here?” he asked, ignoring her. “Who is he and why have you brought him here?” There was silence. “My, Izzy, you’re still so gullible… always trusting the people you shouldn’t trust.”

“You don’t get to talk about trust,” she snapped. She realized he was only trying to mess with her head. Isabel recognized that now, and she was doing all that she could to stop it. She turned to Presten for help and he nodded at her, trying to channel all his energy towards her. Suddenly Oz appeared from the far end of the cell and it was three against one. Gavin’s eyes started drooping, like he was being hypnotized.

“I, I,” he stuttered, and then, without warning, his head drooped like a deflated balloon. Gavin was spent. There was no way he could resist all three of them exercising their powers over him. Isabel breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Well that was definitely… intense,” she whispered, grabbing hold of Gavin’s key. “Got it,” she said, flashing Presten a smirk. They climbed out of the basement and Isabel quickly made her way for the stairs. “Who’s coming with me?” she asked. Without much hesitation, Presten followed her, the two of them hurrying up the stairs like little kids going on an adventure. Oz sighed and turned around. Was this jealousy he was feeling? Either way, he decided to mind his own business. Isabel was free to do whatever she wanted, no matter what he felt. 

CHAPTER 7

“That must’ve been scary, what you did in there,” Presten said, looking at Isabel out of the corner of his eye.

“It was,” she said, shaking her head frantically. “And when his eyes shot open… that shit freaked me out.”

Presten chuckled. “I probably would’ve peed myself,” he said. “I hate to say this, but Gavin’s a scary motherfucker.”

“You’re telling me,” Isabel said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe I used to sleep with that guy.” There was silence. Isabel didn’t know if what she said was inappropriate, but deep down, she didn’t care. She knew she had bigger things to worry about than what Presten thought about her.

“I can’t believe you used to sleep with him, either,” he said, grinning. “You did a pretty good job, though, I’m proud of you.”

“I don’t deserve that, you guys did most of the work,” she said, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“I don’t think you give yourself nearly enough credit,” Presten said. “And I’m not just saying that… you’re way stronger than you think.”

Isabel didn’t know what to say. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but a part of her felt like he was lying. Isabel just wanted to step out of Oz’s shadow, to explore things on her own. But she knew that wasn’t possible: it was too risky. “I really appreciate you saying that,” she said after a long pause. “Right now, we just need to find Gavin’s room so we can try this thing.” Presten nodded. “I just need to remember where it was… oh, right there,” she said, pointing to that familiar swinging door at the far end of the hall. She pushed it open and stepped inside, immediately heading for Gavin’s closet. “Let’s hope it works.” The key rustled in its lock before the little door at the back of the closet creaked open. Isabel couldn’t believe her eyes. She pushed past some cobwebs, which hung from the ceiling like drapes, her knees bending involuntarily as the walls closed in on her bit by bit. “Hey, are you good back there?” she asked, struggling to turn her neck around.

“I’m okay,” Presten said. “I’m right behind you.” They were crammed in such a tight space that Isabel eventually found herself crawling on all fours. But it was not long before the rabbit hole of a passageway opened up again and Isabel found it possible to stretch herself out again. “There a light at the end of this tunnel?” Presten asked, peering over her shoulder.

“I think so,” she said pleasantly. “Just follow that glow.” Isabel stopped at the end of the hall. “Check this out,” she said, jumping out and landing on lower ground. She spun around, trying to take in what she was seeing. The ceiling arched over them like a dome; Isabel felt like she was stuck in a snow globe. She looked around and all she saw were books covering the entire length of the walls. “Presten,” she breathed. “Where the fuck are we?”

“I think we just unlocked Gavin’s secret library.”

There was silence. The place was so quiet, like a place of worship. “That explains a lot,” Isabel said after a long pause. “You wanna check it out?”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” he said, his eyes darting from one bookshelf to another. “How old do you think this place is?”

“I have no idea,” she said. Isabel was still in shock. How could someone even hide a place like this? It made no sense to her. Her head was buzzing with questions, questions about Gavin and what he possibly could be doing with all these books. They lined every shelf, every inch of this library; Isabel didn’t know what to think. She got up on a stool placed usefully underneath one of the shelves and started skimming through the leather-bound books. All along they ran from black, to brown, to beige, to black again. Isabel grabbed one of them and started skimming through it. The Art of Mind Control. “I am definitely keeping this,” she said, tucking it under her arm and hopping off the stool. “Hey, check this out.” She tossed it to Presten and then went on looking.

“Are you sure we should be going through Gavin’s shit?” he asked, folding both arms across his chest. If anything, he looked weary. He didn’t know what it was about this place that freaked him out. Isabel looked at him like he was a crazy person.

“What do you mean?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “This place is a goldmine… look around you! We can’t possibly leave here without looking through his things.” She moved the stool and climbed up again, running her fingers along the line of books. She took them out, one by one, examining them carefully. “There are a lot of interesting titles over here… you might want to check them out.”

But Presten was reluctant. He moved in closer to Isabel, but his feet didn’t carry him far. She just stared at him, her eyes reeling him in closer. “Just hand me over those books,” he said, holding out his hands.

“Here,” she said. “Catch.” Presten grabbed the books and started to flip through them.

“This is— this is pretty dangerous,” he said, not taking his eyes off the page. “He has spells in here, mind control spells.”

“Which is exactly why we’re going to need those books,” she said with her back to him. Presten eyed her as she swayed back and forth between shelves; her curvaceous body was absolutely mesmerizing.

“You have a really nice figure, you know that?” he asked, shifting his weight to one leg. Isabel froze. For some reason, she hadn’t expected him to say that.

“Oh, I’m flattered that you think that,” she said coldly. But in reality, she could feel the fire boiling up inside of her. Her mind was conjuring up images of Presten fucking her in that library; that big, empty library. Her body quivered at the thought.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Presten asked, putting the books down and walking over to her. His eyes were on her, she could feel them, but she kept trying to convince herself that she didn’t want that, that she didn’t want him. A part of her felt like she belonged to Oz, that nothing and nobody would ever compare to him. But she shook her head at the thought; since when did succubi get into monogamous relationships?

“I really don’t know what to say,” she said after a long pause. That’s it? That’s all you can come up with? “I mean, I do find you very attractive, Presten, it’s just that—”

“It’s just what?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing her body to his. Isabel let out a sigh. At that moment, she knew she wanted him, and she knew he wanted her, too. The hunger was tugging at her insides; she had never wanted anything so bad. But Oz lingered at the back of her mind. What was it about him that made her so reluctant to be with anyone else? She recognized that her desires were completely independent from her feelings for Oz, but she just couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was doing something wrong. Something didn’t feel right. But she knew she was going to go ahead and do it anyway.

“It’s nothing,” she said finally, pressing his head down to her pelvic area.

She caught a glimmer of a smile on his lips as his face disappeared, and she felt his strong hands grasp her from behind. The fabric of her robe slithered across her thighs as he nestled his nose in between them, pushing them apart, his hot breath against her pussy igniting the desire inside her even more. She kept her eyes locked on him; her fingers entangled in his hair, and she almost automatically draped one long leg over his shoulder.

It was all the invitation Presten needed. Her grip on his hair tightened and she threw her head back at the first touch of his tongue against her. She could feel how wet she was, how much she wanted him, and it was no secret to him. His tongue flickered slightly before his hands brought her hips closer to him and he buried his face in between her thighs.

Isabel couldn’t hold back the satisfied moan that erupted from within her. And why would she? They were alone in the library, with only the books to keep them company, and the thought of Oz locked too far back in her head to care. All she wanted now was more of what she was feeling, more of Presten’s tongue against her pussy, more of his hands squeezing her ass cheeks as he did things to her she had never felt before.

Soon she was rocking against him, both her hands now clutching his hair as she grinded, pulling him even closer to her with her leg. He responded with vigor, his tongue finding its way inside her, circling her clit, sending wave after wave of orgasm rocking through her body. She closed her eyes, screaming in pleasure, lost in this feeling of satisfaction.

Her eyes flew open when she felt her body being lifted off the ground, Presten pushing her higher up against the wall and throwing her other leg over his shoulder. Bolts of electricity shot up and down her legs as his tongue moved and for an instant she thought that she couldn’t take any more.

Presten turned around and let her slide down his body, Isabel’s feet finding the ground and her knees buckling. Presten grabbed her by the hair as she stumbled down in front of him and with one hand quickly undid his pants. Isabel’s eyes widened at the size of him.

“You like what you see?” Presten smirked.

Isabel looked up at him and before he could say anything else, grabbed his cock and squeezed, pumping him. Presten groaned and threw his head back and Isabel quickly wrapped her lips around his cock. She felt her lips stretch around it, only a third of it finding its way into her mouth before she felt she couldn’t take any more. She felt Presten’s hands tighten on her hair and he immediately began to rock against her, sliding in and out of her mouth slowly at first, and then picking up speed.

Isabel matched his rhythm, determined to keep up with him. She felt his throbbing inside her mouth and knew he would explode within minutes if this continued. She braced herself, wrapping her hands around his thighs, anticipating the flood that would explode from him.

“I want you,” Presten growled, pulling out of her mouth.

She felt his grip hard on her arm as he brought her roughly to her feet. Isabel smiled to herself. Somehow his aggressiveness was turning her on and as he led her back to the bookshelf and pushed her against it, she could feel her wetness dripping down the inside of her thighs, waiting for him. She opened her legs, feeling his cock pressed against her as he positioned himself.

She looked back at him, her eyes catching his as she bit her lip. His hands squeezed her ass cheeks and she squirmed. Without taking his eyes off her, Presten pushed and slid inside her, grabbing her by the waist as he buried his cock as deep as it would go.

Isabel’s screams echoed off the walls of the library as Presten fucked her. His hips made slapping sounds against her ass as he moved, his pace quick, his cock stretching her and touching places inside her she never knew could be reached. He was like a jackhammer, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her head back as he slammed against her. Isabel had to grab onto the shelves just to keep her balance, toppling books over as she pushed back against him, matching his rhythm, their moans and groan of pleasure intertwining in an animalistic desire.

It seemed to last forever and Isabel didn’t want it to stop. His hands suddenly tightened around her hips and she could feel his cock expand inside her. She knew what was coming even before he pushed in one final time, pulling her against him, burying himself to the hilt and exploding inside her.

She fell back against him, panting and exhausted, worn from his assault on her body. She let his arms wrap around her, his cock still inside her. She felt limp in his embrace, and she knew that if he let her go, she would crumble to the floor. She didn’t have to worry about it, though, as Presten guided them both to the ground, softly, their bodies lying side by side on the cold surface and their muted panting a reprieve from the screams and grunts that had filled the room just moments before.

Isabel wanted to turn to him, to say something, but felt her body give out and her eyes close slowly. Exhaustion enveloped her and within seconds she had drifted away.

CHAPTER 8

Isabel opened her eyes. Her arm was stretched out to her side and for a second her fingers felt numb. She was lying on the floor of Gavin’s library, her body feeling like a slab of dry clay against the cold marble. She tried to roll over but her whole body was aching; Presten must’ve done a pretty good job. She marveled at the events of last night, but she still couldn’t stop thinking about Oz. It was true she got what she wanted, but she couldn’t help but compare. Oz was gentle; Presten liked it rough. Images from the night before were zapping through her mind: images of Presten, images of herself. She couldn’t take her mind off it, but she was conflicted. If she were to tell Oz, would he get jealous? Would he be happy for her? Would he be indifferent?

Did she want him to be jealous?

All those questions were racing through her mind, but she knew she was being ridiculous. Even in her previous life, she was never a monogamous person. What changed? She rolled over to look at Presten, her eyes travelling up and down his naked body. He was spread out over the cold ground, and so was she, and they basked in the moderate chill of the night. Isabel tried to get up, but her back hurt like hell. “Holy shit,” she whispered, getting up on the balls of her feet. She sat up and looked around. There were books splayed out all around them and she wondered how many of those would actually come in handy sometime. Her eyes went straight to the one about mind control and when she realized Presten had tossed it aside last night, purely for the sake of making his advances on Isabel, she rolled her eyes, reaching for it again and making a mental note not to forget it.

“Good morning,” Presten said, rolling over to face her. He clenched his eyes in pain. “Holy fuck, I think I hurt myself.”

“Me, too,” Isabel said, smiling. “But it was worth it.”

“I’m glad,” he beamed. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be reluctant at first… it was probably all in my head.”

But it wasn’t. “I’m guessing it was,” she said.

“Well, I can go for another round, anytime,” he whispered, his eyes boring into hers. Isabel was starting to feel hungry again.

“We really need to control ourselves if we want to make it out of here alive,” she said, shaking her head. “I think we should go tell the rest about this place… they’ll be more than thrilled.”

Presten’s face drooped to a scowl. “Do you promise me, though, that this place will always stay our little safe haven… for whenever we need to get away from everything and everyone?” he asked, his head cocked to the side. Isabel couldn’t resist his eyes; they glimmered with his desire for her. The truth was, she was flattered, and she couldn’t help but feel attracted to him.

“I promise,” she said finally. “Listen, I had fun last night, I don’t want you to doubt that for one second. It’s just that I’ve been a bit… preoccupied lately, with all what’s been going on.”

“I know, I understand,” Presten nodded. “And I want you to know that I’ve been just as pressured as you have lately… but we’ll get through this, together.”

“I know we will,” Isabel said, reaching her hand out to him. “But for now, let’s just get out of here.” They made their way back; it felt weird having to crawl through that little cave again— it was making Isabel claustrophobic— but when they finally jumped out of the closet she felt a tide of relief wash over her. As soon as they both stepped out of Gavin’s master bedroom, they ran into Oz, who was waiting for them outside.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his head cocked to the side. “We looked everywhere for you.”

“Good news,” Isabel said, flashing Oz a smirk. “We’ve uncovered something, something big.”

“And what is that?” he asked, his eyes darting between them. There was something about the way he was gawking at them that made Presten uncomfortable. If he wasn’t mistaken, Oz was displaying some signs of jealousy. “Come on, you two, say something!”

“It’s Gavin’s secret book library,” Isabel blurted out. “He has hundreds, if not thousands of books in there and this is one of them,” she said, handed the book over to Oz. He narrowed his eyes at the title and then began skimming through it.

“This is a dangerous book,” he mumbled, rather to himself. “I think we can make use of this… good job keeping it with you,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Isabel. “We’ll go back and take a look at this place later… I have a feeling we will need to revisit it. But for now, I want to let you in on our plan.”

“Your plan?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed. It wasn’t long before Ava and the five strangers showed up at the doorway.

“We’re going to visit the council,” one of them said. “We’ll show up at the other mansion and demand that they hear us out in exchange for the hostages.”

Isabel thought about that for a second. “That sounds like a good plan… and now that there are more of us, we’re going to sound more convincing. They’re going to have to listen to us because they know we have the upper hand.”

“We do have the upper hand, but do you know why?” Oz asked, looking at Isabel through the corner of his eye. “It’s not because we’re a larger number, but because we’ve got Gavin.”

Isabel let that sink in for a second. She knew Oz was right. She knew Gavin was one of the most influential vampires in the council. “That makes total sense,” she breathed. “Now that they know that Gavin’s with us, they’re going to have to hear us out,” she said.

“Absolutely… or else we kill Gavin,” one of the angels said. Isabel locked eyes with Presten. He had been gawking at her all throughout the meeting, and the truth was, she was beginning to crave his attention all over again. Just the thought of him and Oz taking her at once made her feel all warm on the inside, but she knew she couldn’t think about that now.

“I think this is the perfect plan,” she said after a long pause. “But I do think we need to recruit more succubi before we head over there.”

“I’ll handle it,” Ava said. “They didn’t recognize me at the other mansion… they have no idea who I am. I’m going to sneak in there, maybe scope out some new members to join our clan.”

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” Oz said, shaking his head.

“Got any better ideas?” Ava asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t see you doing anything.”

“I’m just saying… you need to be very careful. Those people might not know you, but sooner or later, they’ll realize that some people went missing, and they’re going to pin it on us,” Oz said.

“He’s right,” Isabel said. “Be careful, Ava, and I do think you should take Presten with you like last time. You guys can protect each other.” Presten shot Isabel a worried look. Somehow, it made her feel guilty. Was she throwing him into the monster’s den?

She thought about it for a little while longer. “I have an idea,” she said. “Why don’t we all go?”

“Remember how the last time you suggested that we all shot you down, because, as I’d like to remind you, the vampire council already knows you?” Oz asked, agitated this time. “You’re risking our plans, Isabel, I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this.”

“I’m not stubborn,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Oz. “I just have a plan.”

“And what would that plan be?” he asked. Isabel wondered why he was being so critical towards her. She wondered if it had anything to do with Presten.

“You know how we’ve all come to master mind control?” she asked, searching Oz’s face for a reaction, and when she didn’t get one, she moved on to the rest of them. “Some of us haven’t exactly mastered it… but you know what I mean.” They nodded. “Alright, well, I was thinking we should all go to the mansion together, but I don’t think we should go inside.” There was a pause. “How about we all gather somewhere out in the forest… and try to lure the succubi, make them come to us?”

“And how will we do that?” Ava asked, staring at Isabel with heavy lidded eyes.

“Mind control,” she said. “If all of us go, we’ve got a better chance at getting through to them. That way, we can lure the succubi out of the mansion, and then all of us, as a collective group, can use our powers to bend the vampires.”

Oz thought about that for a second. “And then?”

“And then we all head out to the vampire council to make our case.”

“You do know where the council is, right?” Oz asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Isabel shook her head.

“I’m guessing it’s somewhere around here?” she asked.

“It’s in Nice. We’re going to have to take a train there,” he said, matter-of-factly. At that point, Isabel was just annoyed by him. The truth was, Oz was probably the most sensible person in the room, but there was something about the way he was dealing with Isabel that made her furious. She hated when someone talked down to her and at that point, Oz was making her feel like an idiot.

“Listen, we were going to pay the council a visit, anyway,” she said after a long pause. “So we might as well just do it now, all of us.”

“It’s a risk, you being there,” he said, his lips barely moving.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The silence poured into the room from all directions. Like a cloud, it descended on them and just lingered there; Isabel was suffocating. “Alright,” Oz said finally. “Do what you wish. I just don’t want you to get hurt in the process.”

“I won’t,” she said. “Now, what do the rest of you think about heading over to the mansion right now?”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Presten said, his deep-set eyes boring into Isabel’s. “We just need to stick together and clear our minds from all the negative energy; if any one of us is distracted during the time of summoning, our entire plan will go to shit.”

“You’re right,” Isabel said, nodding. “I think we’ve all gotten the hang of this whole telepathy thing… it’s controlling the vampires that’s going to be tough.”

“You know what the best thing is?” Presten asked, his lips curving to a sly smile. “We’ve got an entire book dedicated to mind control on our hands. Don’t forget to use that, Isabel.”

“Oh I won’t,” she said. “I’ve read quite a big chunk of it so far… believe me, it’s going to come in handy.”

“Alright, should we get going?” Oz asked, already making his way for the door.

“And the prisoners? Who’s going to stay with them?” Ava asked.

“Presten, you can stay,” Oz said with a smile. “Seeing as though you’re probably the most powerful incubus in this room, I think you should keep an eye on the hostages.”

“Alright,” Presten said, his eyes darting from Oz, to Isabel, and then to Oz again. “I’ll take care of it.

“Okay, let’s go,” Isabel said, turning to leave. She eyed Oz as he swung the door open and stepped outside. “Boy, do you look pissed off,” she said, walking over and standing next to him. She just didn’t understand why he was acting the way he was. Something was off, but she knew that now wasn’t the time to confront him about it. Ava joined them and the three of them marched across the yard.

“Oh, hey,” Ava said, her eyes fixated somewhere over Isabel’s shoulder. She looked over and saw all five succubi— the “newbies”, as she liked to think of them- huddled at the far end of the field. “I don’t know why we keep forgetting about them,” Ava said, skipping across the yard.

“I didn’t forget about them,” Isabel said. “I keep an eye on them all the time… I knew we would find them out here.”

“They’re always in a group,” Oz said, looking at Isabel with glassy eyes. “I wonder if we should be worried.”

Isabel shook her head. “No, I’ve been watching them very closely lately… they seem alright,” she said.

““Alright” doesn’t necessarily mean dedicated,” Oz said. Isabel rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe how negative he was being. She wanted to scream her lungs out to him, to tell him that she couldn’t take it anymore. It was all so frustrating, given the fact that she needed to feed. And it’s not like she needed to feed on just about anybody, she needed to feed on Oz. She didn’t get why he was pushing her away, why he was shooting her down. She thought he would be more supportive of her by now, but it didn’t look to her like he was going to get over this anytime soon. Whatever “this” was.

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to find out,” she said, waving to the group of people standing at the far end of the field. They dispersed for a moment before they came together again, marching towards Isabel and the others.

“I really hope you prove me wrong,” Oz said, crossing both arms across his chest.

“Oh, I will.”

***

“Alright, I think we’re getting close,” Isabel said, catching a glimpse of the old mansion. They had been hiking for around an hour. When the tip of the tower came into view, Isabel crouched down amongst the weeds. “Let’s stop here,” she said. The rest of them crouched down next to her and eyed the mansion apprehensively.

“Do you think it’ll work if we try and tap into them from all the way over here?” Ava asked.

“It has to,” Isabel said. “I don’t think we can get any closer, it’s too risky.”

“There are a lot of us. I think this might work,” one of the succubi said, her eyes fixated on the mansion. She got down and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth repeatedly. Isabel clenched her eyes and tried to focus. She looked around once to make sure everyone else was doing the same and then she went back again, trying to immerse herself in her own little world. No one had taught her how to do this; it was all a matter of instinct. She took a deep breath. The wind caressed her face and she could feel every muscle in her body turn flaccid. It was like she was doing yoga. Alright, now, tell them to come out. Come out, come out, come out.

“Come out, come out, come out,” Oz said out loud.

“Come out, come out, come out,” all seven of them said in unison. “Come out, come out, come out.” The silence lingered in the air. Isabel tried to focus all her energy on that one thing, on luring the succubi out of the mansion. It was like her soul was leaving her body— or at least it felt that way— and she was watching herself from afar. She felt like she was floating around freely, that she was communicating with people and things she never thought she would be able to communicate with. Come out, come out, come out. Come out from the mansion, join us.

“Join us, join us,” Oz breathed. The rest followed. Isabel opened her eyes and stared out into the distance. She could see the trees swaying back and forth in the wind, but no people. She wondered if this was actually working. The air was so still, despite the wind. She had never felt so peaceful, yet so worried. A series of paradoxes, a chain reaction of impending events that were yet to come. Isabel felt connected, not only to the people in the mansion, but also to the circle of people around her. They were all crouched down on the ground, taking up different positions, positions that were quite peculiar in their nature. Oz stooped down next to Isabel and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She basked in it, wishing she could let him know how much she loved him, but then decided to stay focused, clenching her eyes again and ducking her head down low. Suddenly, she heard rustling sounds. Her eyes shot open and she started scanning the place, trying to discern the source of the noise.

“Did you hear that?” Oz asked, turning to look at her. Isabel nodded.

“It’s coming from over there,” she said, looking somewhere over her shoulder. Suddenly a bunch of figures appeared from amongst the trees. They staggered towards Oz, Isabel and the rest of the gang, and when they spotted what seemed to be the source of the frequencies, they nodded at them, as if to acknowledge their presence. Isabel noticed that one incubus lead the pack.

“Hello,” he said, smiling at her. “We heard you from over there.”

“Welcome,” Isabel smiled, motioning for him to sit down.

“We can’t,” he said, seemingly distracted. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible, it’s not safe here.”

“How did you get past security?” Oz asked, rising to his feet.

“We fed off your energy and tapped into their consciousness,” he said, his hands balled up into fists. He wouldn’t stop looking around; Isabel thought the vampires would strike at any second. “For the first time, we evaded them, something we thought we would never be able to do. I’m Jared, by the way.” He reached his hand out to Isabel.

“Isabel,” she said. “Have you sedated the guards?”

Jared nodded. “Yes, we have. But not for long… we better get out of here before they wake up again,” he said. The rest rose to their feet, and in a matter of moments, they were back on the hiking trail again. “So, Isabel, what brought you to us?” he asked, glancing at her.

“I know you,” one of them said. “You’re Isabel, the chosen one.”

Jared paused. “Wait, you’re Isabel?” he asked, his eyes wide as a set of plates. “I don’t know why I never made the connection, this is awesome!”

Isabel didn’t really know what to say. She wasn’t used to people recognizing her. “Thanks,” she said after a long pause. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never been put in a situation like this before.”

“What, no one has ever recognized you before?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “That’s strange. You see, I’m an old succubus. I’m quite old, actually and I’ve been imprisoned for quite a long time now. I hear things, things about impending battles and about the chosen ones. I know about you and Presten,” he said.

“Presten is at the other mansion,” Oz said. “You’ll get to meet him in a little while.”

Jared smiled. “I’d be honored to,” he said. Isabel started making her way downhill again, motioning for the rest to follow her. “Where are we headed now?” Jared asked, a cheesy smile plastered to his face.

“To the rebels’ mansion.”

CHAPTER 9

It wasn’t long before the pack arrived outside the mansion again. Isabel had gotten used to hikes; somehow her transformation had given her the unbreakable stamina of an athlete, the kind that’s not even comparable to normal human strength. She signaled for Presten to step outside, so he did, and when he was confronted with seventeen people standing out in the field, his lips curved to a smile. “I see you’ve done a good job,” he said, marching to them. Jared stared at him in awe.

“You’re Presten,” he said, pushing past his mates and reaching his hand out to him. “I’m Jared, I’ve heard a lot about you at the old mansion.”

“Oh, wow, I did not expect that,” Presten said, taking Jared’s hand and shaking it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jared.”

“Pleasure to meet you, too,” he said. Presten could feel the eyes of the crowd on him. He peered over his shoulder and the rest of newcomers were staring at him like he was some kind of god. He knew he was the chosen one, but never in a million years would he have thought people would actually recognize him. “So, should we head out to the train station?” he asked, turning to Isabel.

“Yes,” she said, averting her gaze to Oz, who just nodded at her.

“It’s a long way to the train station,” he said. “We’ll need to take the bus. But remember, none of us are allowed to talk about internal affairs in public, especially when there are a lot of people around.”

“Roger that,” Isabel said. The pack made their way downhill again, Isabel and Presten walking side by side. The four succubi had decided to return to the rebel mansion to keep an eye on the hostages while the rest were away. Isabel put all her trust in them, after all, it was Ava who recruited them, and she trusted her judgement over anything. Isabel and Presten were lost in conversation, Isabel mostly forgetting that Oz was even there. There were times when she would feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t care. He was emitting so much negative energy that even Isabel couldn’t handle it. She bumped into Presten as they walked, their bodies colliding intermittently as they made their way downhill. The air was crisp and for the first time in a long time, Isabel felt free, and no one could take that away from her. She wasn’t trapped inside a musty mansion anymore, and neither was she confined to a green patch of a yard. And the truth was, it felt great. “You know, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said, the steady thump of her footsteps setting the beat for her movements.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, either,” Presten said, his eyes on the ground beneath him. “We need to be careful, though; once we get there, we need to have come up with a plan. We can’t just barge into the council.”

“I know,” Isabel said. “We need to settle down somewhere first.” The pack made it to the bus station and when they got on the bus, Isabel took the seat next to Presten, the two of them not speaking a single word to each other on the way to the train station. Isabel just stared out the window, her eyes following the road. The landscape shifted from rural to urban as the bus made its way downtown. “This is really weird,” Isabel whispered, her lips barely moving. In a way, she felt like she was relearning everything all over again. It was almost as if she had forgotten how to deal with people, how to smile at them as they passed her by and how to properly thank them when they held the door open for her. All those little things, she needed to learn all over again. She had been trapped in this tiny community for so long, that everything she once knew had become so foreign to her, so unnatural.

“What’s weird?” Presten asked, looking over her shoulder at the view outside. “The view’s beautiful.”

“Exactly,” Isabel jumped. “Aren’t you stunned by it? Don’t you miss it? Don’t you miss being outside?”

“I do,” he smiled. “I actually haven’t stopped freaking out ever since we left the mansion. I feel like an alien.”

“Me, too,” Isabel said, not taking her eyes off the road. “Everything is so… dynamic, but in a different way. Cars are hurrying by; people are going about their lives. But they have no idea we exist. They mock people like us, because they only see us in storybooks.”

“You’re right, but that’s where we’re meant to live. Otherwise, the vampire’s prophecies will be fulfilled,” Presten said. Just the mention of them made Isabel’s skin crawl.

“Alright, well, we don’t want to talk about this too much… we don’t want anyone to hear us,” Isabel said, resting her head on Presten’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and dozed off for what felt like a couple of minutes but was probably longer. When she felt Presten’s hand come over her shoulder, she flinched awake, staring at the people around her as they grabbed their things and hopped off the bus.

The pack stood on the platform for a while before Oz realized they were too early. “Alright, well, we have time to sit down for some tea, who’s in?”

“I am,” Isabel said, nodding to a few chairs spread out over the pavement. “Let’s go sit there.”

There were so many of them now; a part of her wondered if they would be able to devise a concrete plan with that many people involved. She wasn’t used to working with a big group and she wasn’t used to devising plans like this. Suddenly it dawned on her that she was responsible for this whole thing, well, she and Presten. “Alright,” she said, slumping down on one of the many foldout chairs spread out in front of the coffee shop. “Now, first thing’s first: how about we all get to know each other?” The succubi exchanged brief glances before they pulled out some chairs and sat down in a circle. Isabel eyed them expectantly, waiting for them to introduce themselves.

“I’m Solange,” one of them said. Isabel tried to identify the source of the smooth, sultry sound, and when she realized the voice belonged to the woman sitting next to her, she smiled.

“Hello, Solange. I’m Isabel,” she said.

“I know you, Isabel,” the dark-skinned woman said. “We all do. You’re a legend and we can’t wait to work with you.”

“Solange, where do you come from? I want to know more about you,” Isabel said, leaning forward in her seat. She brought her hands together and turned to look at her. Instantly, the woman’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“I come from a humble background,” she said. “My brother and I, we’re both from Nigeria.” She pointed to one of the incubi sitting across from her. He nodded at Isabel to acknowledge her, and then continued to fumble with the pepper shaker.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Abeo. It’s nice to finally meet you, Isabel.”

“It’s great to meet you, too, Abeo,” she said, reaching her hand out to him. “So, how long have you been living here?” she asked, her eyes darting back and forth between the two siblings.

“Our parents brought us out here when I was five,” Abeo said, his pearly teeth showing through his smile. “We were practically raised here.”

“And what about you, Solange? How old were you when you came to France?” Isabel asked.

“I was five,” she said. “Abeo and I are twins.”

Isabel’s lips curved to a smile. There was something about them that felt very warm, very friendly. But she knew she had to be careful, nonetheless. “That’s interesting,” she said. “And, if you don’t mind me asking… when did the two of you transform? How did you cope with your transformation?” she asked.

“Well, it’s kind of awkward to talk about that time you had sex with two women on the same night in front of your sister,” Abeo chuckled.

Isabel laughed. “You’re probably right,” she said, looking somewhere over Abeo’s shoulder. She could see him out of the corner of her eye; he was smiling, a smile so radiant that Isabel couldn’t help but smile, too. “But how did you cope? Was it hard for you?” she asked again.

“It was extremely hard,” Solange said, knitting her brows. “Abeo and I… we both suffered, but then we realized we were better off this way.”

“You were better off away from your family?” Isabel asked with her head tilted.

“Yes,” Solange nodded. “Our father… he was very abusive. So when Abeo and I were abducted by the succubi, we couldn’t have been more grateful.”

Isabel wished she knew what to say. Most of the time she tended to avoid thinking about her family and friends. She didn’t want to face that. There was a chance that she would never see them again; they were probably convinced she was dead. She thought about the heartache she must have caused them by disappearing so suddenly, without a trace. They knew nothing about her, and they probably never will. Isabel shook her head; she didn’t want to think about this right now, because if it sank in for one second, she knew she would probably have a nervous breakdown. “I’m glad to hear that,” Isabel said after a long pause. “You see I’ve always imagined transformations to be struggle stories, something mostly negative… but you, guys, you’ve changed the rules completely.”

“And what about you, Isabel, what was transformation like for you?” Solange asked, her head cocked to the side.

“It was pretty hard,” she said. “I had to leave my family, I couldn’t cope with the fact that I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror most of the time. And when I learned I was the chosen one, well, it freaked me out even more.”

“Yeah, I was going to ask… how did you react to that, realizing you were the chosen one?” Abeo asked.

“I didn’t take it very well,” Isabel admitted. “I was in denial… I didn’t know what was being asked of me. Basically, I freaked the fuck out.”

Abeo and Solange chuckled. The conversation trailed off, and soon enough, all thirteen of them had to get up to catch the train. Isabel felt her lungs inflate with the cool air. She knew they had a long journey ahead of them.

***

“Are you sure you know where it is?” Isabel asked, turning to Oz.

“Pretty sure,” he said, letting the cold fuel his walk. He hurried along the sidewalk, his eyes fixated on a red brick building with a glowing sign that read “motel” on its side. The gang would be spending the night there while they came up with a plot to infiltrate the council. They walked in through the revolving doors, Isabel wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm.

“Nice is way colder than I thought it would be,” she said, turning to Presten.

“I can keep you warm if you want me to,” he said, flashing her a smirk. Oz rolled his eyes and looked away. Isabel noticed. She went up to him and just stood there, searching his face for a reaction.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked, shifting her weight to one leg. Oz wasn’t being himself and she thought that, if they were going to work together, it was about time they patched things up.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Oz asked, his eyes fixated on a faraway point.

“You wanna sit over there?” she asked, nodding towards the seating area.

“How about we just go up to our rooms? It’s late,” he said, nodding towards the elevators, instead. Isabel shrugged, making her way for the automatic doors. She pressed the button to the elevator indicating the up direction, which, ironically, was made to glow red. Oz put one foot in front of the other, slowly following Isabel, and when they both stepped inside that elevator, she could feel nothing but the hunger gnawing at her. She missed Oz more than anything, but she told herself she wasn’t going to give in. He was giving her the cold shoulder and she didn’t really know why. Somewhere down the line between getting there and booking their rooms, Isabel had made the decision to talk to him. The elevator doors parted and after what felt like an eternity of trying to pull herself together, Isabel stopped Oz on his way to his room.

“Wait,” she said finally. “I need to talk to you.”

CHAPTER 10

“What’s wrong?” Oz asked, folding both arms across his chest. He eyed Isabel intently, as if waiting for her to blow up in his face. “Well?” he said again, tilting his head to the side.

“You’ve been acting pretty weird lately,” Isabel blurted out. She didn’t know how Oz would react, but she decided she was going to take the chance, anyway. “I don’t know what’s going on inside your head… I don’t know anything.”

“Why do you say that?” Oz asked, making his way down the hall. Isabel stopped him again.

“You know why,” she said, her eyes fixated on his. “You’ve been so cold to me lately, I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Isabel,” Oz said, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “There is nothing wrong. Everything’s changing, everything’s moving so fast. It’s stressful and I’m scared for you.”

“I don’t want you to be scared for me,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I’ll be okay and so will you. We’re strong like that.”

“I know, it’s going to be okay,” he said, twisting a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. “I don’t want you worrying about me, either.”

Isabel smiled. If anything, she was relieved. But then it dawned on her that there was something else she wanted to talk to him about, something important. Or at least, she thought it would matter to him. “Oz,” she said again. “I kind of wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Something else?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah,” she said. “Can we maybe sit down?”

“You’re scaring me.” Oz opened his hand and there was a key. Isabel didn’t even know when he had booked the rooms. He hurried down the hallway, his eyes darting from one door to the other until he stopped in front of one of them. “This one is mine,” he said. The key rustled in its lock for a while until Oz practically kicked the door open. “French motels, huh?” he said, turning around and stepping inside. Isabel followed.

“Fancy room,” she said, looking around. She saw something, like a bug, scurry across the floor the minute they flicked the lights on. “Oh, God,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth. She went over to the bed and just stood there, contemplating whether or not she should sit down.

“I wouldn’t sit on that if I were you,” Oz said, his lips curving to a wry smile.

“Yeah, just sleep on it, instead,” Isabel said, rolling her eyes. There was a pause. Oz let out a chuckle. He went around the room, pretending to arrange the knick knacks on the shelves.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about again?” he asked.

“Oz, listen,” Isabel said, placing a hand over his shoulder. “When I began my transformation, I didn’t really understand the idea of hunger. I couldn’t comprehend it— I still don’t sometimes— but right now…” She paused, clearing her throat. “I guess I’ve come to understand my own needs and how to quench them.”

Oz turned to look at her. He was still fumbling with some wine glass he found near the TV set. “Go on,” he said, staring at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

“I had sex with Presten,” Isabel blurted out. A part of her felt like she just confessed to cheating on him. The air was so still, that she could hear the sound of Oz’s breathing. And her breathing. She was nervous as hell.

“Alright,” Oz said after what felt like an eternity of scrubbing down the wine glass. “And why did you feel like you needed to tell me that?” he asked.

“I— I don’t know,” Isabel said, turning away. Suddenly she felt like an idiot. Oz was just looking at her with glassy eyes, not moving. “I guess I just thought I owed it to you,” she continued.

“Isabel, you know I love you, right?” he asked, walking towards her. He moved slowly across the carpeted floor; Isabel wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss her or yell at her. “Right?”

“And I love you, too,” she breathed. “Which is why I felt like I needed to tell you this.”

“Our love for each other is independent of who we sleep with,” Oz said. “I knew you were sleeping with Presten… it wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t.”

“I just really needed to feed at the time, and you were giving me the cold shoulder and I—”

“Isabel, you don’t need to justify yourself… you have needs, and so do I. Sometimes we’re going to turn to each other for those needs, and sometimes, we’re going to have to resort to other people to get what we want.”

Isabel nodded. For some reason, she still felt uneasy. All her life she kept jumping from one person to the other, but right now, the idea of monogamy appealed to her more than ever. It was ironic, she thought, given that her entire being depended on promiscuity. “You’re right,” she said, despite herself. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Is that all this was?” Oz asked, folding both arms across his chest. He stared at her playfully, his eyes looking as though they were about to pop out of their sockets. He bit his bottom lip and looked away again, inspecting the dusty utensils randomly spread out over the table. “This is one weird-ass motel room,” he said.

“It’s nothing, just forget about it,” Isabel said, brushing her fingers through her hair. It had gotten so long over the past month that she felt like she could almost trip on it. “I think we should all stay up tonight and plan what we’re going to say at the council,” she muttered. “How about we call the rest of them in here?”

“Sure,” Oz said, sprinting for the door and swinging it open. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, would you ever so kindly step in here so we can arrange what we’re going to say tomorrow?” he called down the hall, motioning for them to step inside. Isabel peered over Oz’s shoulder and she could see Abeo and Solange pacing the hallway, trying to find their rooms.

“Hello,” Abeo said, popping his head in through the inched open door. The rest of the succubi slowly followed and they poured into the room, one after the other. Jared sat on the bed; Solange pulled a chair and slumped down on it. It creaked under her, but she couldn’t care less. Suddenly Isabel felt overwhelmed by what was happening, so she retreated into the bathroom for a while before stepping back out again, trying to take in the fact that they only had a few hours to prepare. They would need to stay up all night, plotting how to present their case. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Oz said again, putting his hands together. Isabel thought he surely must possess the skills of a public orator. He stood with such poise, such confidence that a part of her felt like he had already prepared his speech. “When the sun comes up, we’re going to make our way for the council to present our case, and by the end of tonight, we will have come up with a plan for this.” The rest of them nodded, like disciples listening to their master. “Now, Isabel, what do you think is going to strengthen our case?”

“The fact that we’ve got Gavin locked up in our dungeon,” she said, staring back at him. “Along with the rest of the vampires.”

“This is a rather dangerous statement,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “We cannot claim to be holding the “rest of the vampires” captive because then we would be fabricating the truth. We’re only holding some of them captive, but not all.”

Jared smiled. “He’s right, we need to be very precise in what we’re going to say.”

“So, we’ve got Gavin… what else do we have to strengthen our case?” Oz asked again, scanning the room with his eyes. Isabel felt like she was back in college again, and Oz was that sonofabitch professor always looking for the right answer but never getting it.

“We’ve taken control over the rebel’s mansion,” Ava said, shifting her weight to one leg. She had been standing by the door this entire time; Isabel hadn’t even noticed that she was there.

“The rebel’s mansion is a useless thing to being up in our case,” Oz said coldly. “The vampires have already taken over the old mansion, the original mansion… they’ve wholly reshaped and constructed it. As far as headquarters go, the vampires already have the upper hand.” There was silence. Oz was pacing back and forth, eyeing them as they pretended to be deep in thought. “Come on, you guys,” he said again. “Think small, think about what’s next to you. Think!”

“I, I don’t know,” Isabel said, her voice boiling down to a hoarse whisper. She thought back to scenario time when her college professor wasn’t even directly addressing her and she felt the need to get up and leave the lecturing room because she was so overwhelmed. But she wasn’t going to leave this time. This time, she was going to see things through.

“You, of all people, should know,” Oz said, eyeing her coldly. “It’s Isabel, you guys! Isabel is the chosen one! She’s one of the strongest most powerful succubi to ever walk this Earth! She’s our most valuable weapon.”

Isabel could feel a weight being dropped to her chest. It’s not like she didn’t know it from the very beginning: this whole thing, start to finish, rested on her, and her only. Everyone else was at the periphery, or at least that’s what it seemed like. Ultimately, when Oz had done his part as the orator, when Jared has done his part as the loyal follower, when Ava has done her part as the gutsy rebel, it was only Isabel who remained.

“And what about Presten?” Abeo asked. “Isn’t he the chosen one, too?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Oz said, his lips curving to a wry smile. “Do you know why I never mentioned him, even though he’s the chosen one?”

“Because no one knows him,” a voice said from the far end of the room. Isabel turned around to see who it was. To her surprise, it was a girl she had never spoken to before; she was one of the people they had summoned outside the old mansion, but she hadn’t really gotten the chance to get to know her.

“This woman is a goldmine,” Oz said, his pearly teeth showing through his smile as he looked at the woman who had spoken. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Abigail,” the woman said, hugging her knees to her chest.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Abigail. Do you mind telling us a little about yourself?”

“I’m a shapeshifter,” she said, her hands clasped around her ankles. “That’s pretty much it.”

Isabel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She and Oz exchanged brief glances before he smiled again, trying to conceal his confusion. Isabel was weary of shapeshifters, especially after what happened with Mikael. This woman was dangerous and she had to be recognized as such. “Interesting,” Oz said after a long pause. “I’d love to get to know you after our meeting… if that’s okay with you, of course.”

Abigail just nodded and looked away. It wasn’t like she was uninterested, but there was something weird about her, something peculiar. Isabel thought maybe she was just introverted, but then again, she knew nothing about her or where she came from. It was a bit worrying.

“Now, back to what we were saying… the council doesn’t know Presten. Or, of course they ‘know’ him, they just wouldn’t recognize him if they saw him,” Oz said, searching their faces for a reaction. “And so, that makes him our secret weapon. What do you think, Presten?”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” he said, peering at Isabel. She was still stuck in her own head.

“So basically, I’m the front, Presten’s our secret weapon, the hostages are the bait,” she said finally.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I think we’ve got most things sorted out,” Ava said, rising to her feet. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Will you sit back down?” Oz asked, agitated. “We still have a lot to cover, right now we’re just trying to figure out where we are.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were my college lecturer,” Ava said, folding both arms across her chest. Of all the girls that Oz knew, Ava was probably the sassiest.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause. “I just don’t want us to screw this up, because if we do, we might never get another chance.”

“We’re not going to screw up,” Ava said, slumping back down on the floor. She sat cross-legged, gawking at Oz as he tried to gather his thoughts. “We’re a strong group, I think we’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, the night is still young, ladies and gentlemen! We have a lot of time on our hands… and a lot more planning.”

CHAPTER 11

Isabel was dead tired. It was approaching four AM; she had been stuck in the same position for hours now. She rose to her feet, cursing under her breath, as her legs seemed to have fallen asleep. When she peered out of the window, all she saw was the blue dark seeping into the room. “I think we should call it a day,” she said finally.

“I think so, too,” Ava said, rising to her feet as well. “I’m gonna go out for a walk right now, anyone wanna join me?”

“I do,” Abeo said, getting up on his elbows and bouncing to his feet. Solange followed, and so did Abigail. One by one, the rest of them began pouring out of the room, flashing Oz a coy smile as they did so.

“Well, I guess that just leaves the three of us,” Presten said, cocking his head towards Isabel. She smiled at him and averted her gaze to Oz, who had finally settled in one place. At one point during the night Isabel began to wonder if he would dig a hole in the ground just pacing back and forth. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge come over her. She could see Presten out of the corner of her eye; he was gawking at her, following her every move. The bed looked tempting despite the spotted sheets and she could see herself crawling under the covers with not one, but both of them. Silence settled in the air; Isabel knew something was going to happen. She said to herself that she wouldn’t even try to stop it.

“Well, what do you feel like doing?” Oz asked, his eyes fixated on Isabel. He didn’t even look at Presten; it was like he wasn’t even there.

“What do you feel like doing?” she asked, her eyes darting from Oz, to Presten, and then to Oz again. The two men couldn’t even stand being in the same room together, let alone the same bed, with the same girl. Oz was so protective over Isabel, but then again, so was Presten. They had both grown so fond of her, that it was difficult, almost impossible, for her to imagine them allowing her fantasy to come true.

“You tell us what you’d like us to do, and we’ll do it,” Presten said boldly. He eyed Isabel with such lust, such passion, that she felt the need to be fucked by him, right then and there. But not only him… Oz was just standing there, gawking at them, biting his bottom lip and then clenching his jaw. He couldn’t stand the idea of another man being with her, but the thought of fucking her with Presten around was so compelling. He wanted to blow her mind, to make her wish she never even considered another man in the first place. He could see it in her eyes, how much she wanted to be fucked by him. And he could see it in Presten’s eyes, too. He wasn’t all that competitive. In fact, he didn’t love Isabel half as much as Oz did. Oz just wanted him to be a bystander, to show him that nothing and nobody could make Isabel feel the way she did when she was with him.

“I’m hungry,” Isabel said, her lips barely moving. The words slipped out of her mouth like dark confessions and when she raised her eyes to Oz, he was already smiling. He had been waiting to hear her say these words.

“And what do you want us to do about that?” Oz asked, stepping in closer to her. His hands were stuffed inside the pockets of his jacket, and when he came close enough, Isabel went ahead and kissed him. She felt his lips caress hers softly at first, and as her hunger grew, her hand wrapped around the back of his head and Oz’s hands grasped her waist as their kiss intensified.

Presten watched the couple with a small smile on his face, but deep down, he knew there was no way he could just sit back and watch. The scene in front of him was mesmerizing and when Oz’s hands slid Isabel’s robe off her body, her naked curves on full display, Presten felt his cock instantly grow hard in his pants. He got up, slowly, calmly, straining to maintain his control as he walked up behind Isabel and rested a hand on the small of her back.

Isabel broke the kiss and looked back at Presten. A part of her longed for him, while the rest of her body itched for Oz. She remembered the last time she had been between two men, when Gavin had shared her with the angel, but something told her that this would be different. She could feel it with every goose bump that broke out across her skin.

Presten pushed up against her, his hardness nestled against her cheeks as Oz brought her face back to him and kissed her again. Her hands quickly stripped him of his shirt and as she was about to remove his pants, she felt herself being turned around forcefully to face Presten.

She gazed into his eyes and the smile on his face reflected exactly what he was thinking. He knew how hungry she was and exactly how far she was willing to go to quench that feeling. With a strong hand on her shoulder, he pushed her down onto her knees in front of him. He slid his pants down, revealing himself to her and she wrapped a hand around his thigh as she let her tongue slide up and down his shaft. She heard a sharp intake of breath from above her and she smiled seductively before taking him into her mouth. Her lips wrapped around him, sliding him in as far as she could take him.

There was a flutter of clothes behind her and she slipped Presten’s cock out of her mouth to turn and look at the chiseled nakedness of Oz. She felt herself get instantly wet at the thought of running her hands across his skin, the feel of his muscles at the tips of her fingers. She wrapped a hand around his cock, bringing him closer, and swallowed him into her mouth. Isabel looked up at the angel and she could see the challenging smile he shot at Presten.

She alternated between the two, hungrily attacking them, a feeling of unbridled sexual desire racing through her. She made her mind up quickly as she watched the reactions on their faces, the mix of smile and desire, the tension that was building up. She was going to have them both, right here, right now.

Isabel stood up, quickly jumping to her feet as she pushed Oz back and onto the couch. She wasted no time straddling him and with a quick motion guided his cock to her pussy and slid him in. He entered her easily, effortlessly, penetrating deep inside her as she moaned in pleasure. She looked back at Presten and gestured to him and when he was close enough, pulled him onto the couch beside Oz as she began to ride the cock inside her.

Isabel bent down, taking Presten’s cock into her mouth as her hips moved against Oz. Her pace quickened, the fever and lust inside of her growing at the feeling of both men inside her and she felt a tingle race up and down her spine. She hadn’t expected how much pleasure this would give her and despite her conflicting feelings for Oz and her hunger to be satisfied by both men, she found herself reveling in the rush of emotions coursing through her.

Presten suddenly stood up, his cock sliding out of Isabel’s mouth, and he moved behind her. She looked over her shoulder, knowing fully what he intended to do as her hips bounced up and down on Oz. She met his eyes and as he positioned himself directly behind her, she pushed a hand against his chest and slowed her pace.

“Slowly,” she said, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. She felt Oz’s lips wrap around one of her nipples and suck hard, and she closed her eyes against the needed distraction. She waited, losing herself in the attention Oz was giving her breasts, and inhaled sharply as she felt Presten push against her from behind.

Slowly, carefully, he slid inside, and she clenched her teeth against the pain of being stretched in places she had never been stretched before. Presten’s hands squeezed her cheeks as he continued to enter her. Fire shot up from her asshole and through her body and she wrapped her arms tight around Oz’s neck.

Then Presten stopped. She waited for the pain to subside and Presten was patient enough to give her the few seconds she needed to get accustomed to his cock inside her. She opened her eyes and gazed into Oz’s and he gave her a reassuring smile.

“You’re okay,” he said, brushing the hair from her face.

Isabel nodded, and Presten began to pull out slowly, and then push back in. He took it slow, and after a few strokes, the pain had subsided and all Isabel could feel was the pleasure that came with his movements. She began to move her hips against him and gasped at the dual feeling of both Oz and Presten inside her. Presten picked up the pace, reacting to her movements, knowing that she no longer needed the gentle treatment.

Isabel pushed up against Oz’s shoulder, staring down at him, their eyes locked as she moaned in pleasure. A mix of emotions raced through her then. For some reason, she was almost glad she couldn’t see Presten. She was loving every inch of them inside her, the feeling she was getting as both man slammed against her, faster and harder. Yet, she could only see Oz, and it was almost as if this fulfillment was an intimate feeling between the two of them alone.

Presten began to slam harder against her and Isabel knew it was more a way of reinforcing his presence than sexual desire. She let him have his way with her and soon she was screaming in orgasm, both cocks sliding in and out of her and sending bolts of electricity shooting through her.

She looked down at Oz, his eyes rolling in their sockets, and knew he was close. She picked up the pace, and Presten picked up his, and with a few more grinds, Oz grabbed her by the waist and exploded inside her. She felt Presten bulge, as if growing in size, and soon he too was coming hard, thrusting deep as he emptied himself. Isabel felt another wave of orgasms course through her, and she collapsed on top of Oz just as Presten pulled out of her.

“What do you say we move this somewhere a little more comfortable?” Presten asked.

Isabel looked at Oz, his chest beaded with sweat, his breaths coming in deep inhales and exhales.

“Still hungry?” he asked her.

Isabel smiled and licked her lips. “Always.”

***

“Today’s the big day,” Isabel said, climbing out of bed, slipping into her robe and preparing to step out into the world again. Presten had already left a few hours ago and she was alone with Oz, who had been cuddled up beside her. He got up and looked at her, a triumphant smile on his face.

“I have a feeling we’ll be okay,” he said. “We’ve already spent a whole night planning… I know what I’m going to say, you know what you’re going to say. Our thoughts are in order. What could possibly go wrong, right?”

“You know what happened the last time a man said that?” she asked with a smirk on her face.

“He died?” Oz asked, putting his shoes back on. Isabel smiled and nodded at him. She got up, dusted herself off and took his hand, leading the way out of the room. They made out a little in the hallway, until Abeo appeared around the corner.

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, his lips curving to a smile.

“No, no,” Oz said, shaking his head frantically. “We’ve got to go now, all of us. We need to start making our way to the council.” It took a couple of minutes to assemble everyone out in the courtyard, and once Isabel had made sure everyone was present, she led the way to the bus station again. They got on the bus and immediately retreated into their own little bubble of silence. They knew better than to speak of their lives in public. Isabel was lost in her own little world, her eyes growing more accustomed to the surrounding landscape. She told herself that, as soon as they get that visit to the council over with, she would reward herself with a day on the beach.

“Let’s get off here,” she said, getting up. “Alright, you guys, we’ve still got a long hike ahead of us, so before we start up the hill, I suggest we have a coffee here,” she pointed to a small coffee shop nested under the trees at the bottom of the hill.

“I’m dying for some coffee,” Abeo said, practically sprinting to the shop.

“I’m gonna go stand in line,” Isabel said, making a beeline for the cashier. She got on her tiptoes and peered at the people standing in queue. “That’s a long ass line,” she said to herself. Suddenly she felt like something was tugging at her robe, so she turned around, and, realizing it was only a little girl, she smiled and ignored it. Wait, what the fuck? A pair of bloody eyes stared back at her; Isabel didn’t know whether to run or ask the mother if her child was okay. She almost resembled a porcelain doll in the way her curly hair fell down her back. Her eyes were glazed over, her lips were slightly parted and her skin was the palest Isabel had ever seen. Something told her to get away, to ditch the breakfast while she still could. Suddenly her eyes darted to the mother; there was nothing comforting about watching her, either. Isabel felt a strange sense of recognition towards them, like she had seen them somewhere before, in another dimension, perhaps. But there was something unsettling about the way they stared at everyone, how they seemed to be gawking at the people in line like predators stalking their prey.

“Isabel, you’re taking too long!” she heard a voice say. She recognized it as Abeo’s, who was probably just joking with her.

“I’m coming!” she said after a long pause. She poked out of the line like a splinter and walked back to them, a worried look on her face. “Guys,” she started.

“Alright, I think that’s all of us,” Oz said, not paying any attention to Isabel. It looked to her like no one could hear her cries for help. It was like she had just come in contact with the devil, like she was forced to be in his presence for what felt to her like an eternity. Nothing had ever made her more uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. As they exited the coffee shop and started walking and she found herself peering behind herself every couple of seconds, trying to make sure that no one was following them.

“Hey, are you okay?” Presten asked, worried. His eyebrows were knitted together, and he looked at Isabel like her water had just broke. “Isabel, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said after a long while of staring out into the distance.

“Isabel, you seem distracted,” Oz said, glancing at her briefly before he led the pack to a large patch of shade at the very bottom of the hill. His eyes darted from one person to the other, as if counting all the kids at a field trip. “On our way up, please be careful,” he said, his hands clasped behind his back. “We’re here to make our presence known, but that doesn’t mean we should cause a racket on our way up.”

The rest nodded at him like soldiers ready to go to war. A cold war, that is. They started up the hill, their boots sinking into piles of crunchy leaves as they walked. Isabel clutched her stomach, trying to stop herself from hurling. “You don’t look okay,” Presten said, staring at her. “What did you see over there?”

“I saw this lady standing in line… she had her daughter with her. Presten, I’m pretty sure they were—” she paused for a second, as if caught in a trance. The truth was, she had a hard time trying to remember exactly what they were. The pictures that were popping up in her head were nothing but ashen faces resembling egg heads, and they were staring at her. She could’ve sworn the mother had a red blotch at the corner of her mouth, but then she re-visualized the cherry lemonade she had in her hand.

“They were what?” Presten asked, concerned. Isabel could already feel the incline of the hill taking its toll on her calf muscles. She felt drained, like something had sucked the life out of her.

“I don’t know, it’s not important,” she breathed, her eyes fixated on the ground underneath her. It was muddier than last time; Isabel concluded it had rained heavily overnight. Her feet sank into the mud like quicksand and she could feel the strain on her ankles as she wrestled with the ground for her shoe.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Presten said, peering at Isabel through the corner of his eyes. “You didn’t even get your coffee.”

“I’m just paranoid,” she said, looking behind her. Oz lingered at the back of the pack, which was now sandwiched from both sides by their protectors. The council was still quite a way up; Isabel almost imagined it to be nested amongst the clouds. She hated to admit it, but she was growing tired. It felt like her legs would give way and she would fall face first into the mud. “Superhuman strength, my ass,” she murmured, rather to herself. She could still feel Presten’s eyes on her, but she didn’t mind. On the contrary, a part of her wondered what she did to deserve him in the first place. He was so patient with her, despite her love for Oz and her mood swings that could rattle oceans. He loved her despite herself and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

“Anyone tired back there?” Presten asked, turning to look at them. They ducked down and shook their heads, but Presten could tell they were panting like dogs. “We’re almost there,” he lied. Oz was giving him orders telepathically; telling him where to go, where to turn and which routes to avoid. He was like a compass, the directing force guiding them all throughout. Finally, Isabel caught a glimpse of something, something other than trees and rocks and gravel. She caught a signal from Oz telling her that was it: the vampire’s council.

“Alright,” she said. “From this point onwards, I’m going to ask you guys to be careful, to watch your step and, most importantly, to keep an eye on what’s around you.” The pack trekked carefully through the woods. What was once a hiking trail eventually levelled out into even ground and Isabel found herself able to breathe again. She focused on staying confident, on putting on a brave face. This wasn’t a break in. This wasn’t an invasion. This was court.

The gang reached the gates and didn’t hesitate once before going in. The guards looked at them through heavy-lidded eyes; Isabel knew right then and there they were expecting them. They stood in one line with their hands brought together and their eyes darting sideways, as if contemplating whether or not to open up the gates of hell to those asking for it. One of them flashed Isabel a wry grin; he knew her, he knew she was the chosen one. He was staring at her so hard, Isabel didn’t know if he would welcome her in or throw her out. But he didn’t do either. He looked at the one beside him, but his body didn’t move. He blinked at him once, and instantly, as if triggered by some telepathic force, he swung the doors open, and they parted with a loud creak. Isabel didn’t hesitate. She stepped inside, watching as the shadows danced on the walls. Oz went up next to her. He could feel the guard's’ eyes on them, but he wouldn’t dare do anything stupid. Presten stood to Isabel’s right, his eyes bouncing between the seemingly endless set of stairs and the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling like nooses.

Suddenly he sensed some sort of movement. A black mass was coming down the stairs, followed by another black mass, followed by another. They reached the bottom of the stairs and just stood there, their ashen faces not moving. Isabel didn’t recognize any of them, except one woman she was sure she had seen at the mansion before. She visualized her standing in the hallway with Gavin, the two of them looking as though they would burn the place down. She stared at her with such contempt, such intolerance that Isabel thought she would grab at her throat at any second. The silence leaked into the air and it wasn’t long before Isabel saw something that made her gasp. Standing at the very end of the line was the little girl she had seen at the coffee shop; she had a smile plastered to her face, much like the one Isabel had seen that morning. There was no way she could have mistaken that girl for somebody else. Her mother wasn’t there but she was, and for some strange reason, Isabel didn’t feel that intimidated by her. It wasn’t because she was young, but because there was something about her: something warm that Isabel couldn’t really see in the light of day. Only in this darkness, the darkness of the mansion, could Isabel feel the warmth shining through that girl, and the truth was she had a good feeling about her. She looked over at the rest and they were gawking at her like hawks. Now, they were intimidating.

“Good evening,” Oz said solemnly. “I suppose you know why we’re here.”

“Oh, do we, now?” one of the vampires, a seemingly ageing woman with sparkling silver hair, said. “Consider us ignorant. Tell me, young man, why are you here?”

“We’re here because we want to reach some kind of agreement; in the past, we have tried to do that, but unfortunately, when all else failed, we had to resort to extreme measures,” he said.

“Extreme measures? And what would those be?” the woman asked, peering at her mates through the corner of her eye. She had a smile plastered to her face; Isabel knew she had something up her sleeve. “Speak, for I want to know!”

“Gavin’s with us,” Isabel hissed. The house fell silent again. The vampires were exchanging weird looks, looks that even Isabel couldn’t understand. It was like they were speaking in some sort of secret language governed by brief glances of sheer suspicion.

“Oh, is he, now?” the woman asked, rather sarcastically. She tilted her head and stared at Oz, her grey eyes boring into his. He opened his mouth but no words came out and when Isabel turned to look at him, he knew he had to say something. He was their orator, the person they were depending on the most. How could he just let them down like that?

“Yes, he is,” he said again. It was like he was trying to speak but his words were barely finding their way out of his mouth. They rolled off his tongue like alphabet soup, and Oz found himself almost blabbering. “He, along with some other hostages from your pack, are with us at the rebel mansion. They’re being watched over, monitored by our guards, and in order to let them out, some conditions need to be met.”

“And what would those be?” the silver-haired woman asked, folding both arms across her chest. Her hands were veiny: just the sight of them was freaking Isabel out.

“The council needs to drop all intention of starting a war,” Oz said, rather confidently this time. “They need to make peace with the angels and they need to stop recruiting people for their own wicked deeds.”

“What else?”

“They need to evacuate the old mansion… as that was never their home to begin with… and lastly, they need to acknowledge the power of the succubi and incubi as the leading powers of the supernatural world.”

“Wow, that’s a lot you got there,” she said, raising an eyebrow at Oz. She then pursed her lips, turning to the vampires standing next to her. There must’ve been at least seven of them and when Oz was done presenting his case, they all just glared at him, as if offended he had even opened his mouth at all. Suddenly the woman started laughing. “Tell me, Oz, why are you here?”

“I think I’ve already provided a sufficient answer,” he said, his lips barely moving.

“No, seriously, tell me why you’re really here,” she said again.

“Listen, we’re not here to play around,” Isabel snapped, stepping out from the line. The woman looked amused, almost pleased, to have heard her said that. She eyed her up and down condescendingly; nothing bothered Isabel more than when people underestimated her. “We’re here to negotiate, and if you’re not willing to do that, then I guess we’re going to have to make a choice for you.”

“And what choice is that?”

“We’re going to have to kill Gavin and the rest of the hostages.”

The silence fell again. Judging by the look on the woman’s face, Isabel could tell she had made a horrible mistake. “Guards, lock them up.”

“What, no,” Oz said, his eyes darting back and forth frantically. “No!”

Suddenly, Isabel felt herself being hauled off the ground. The room was spinning and she could hear nothing but the sound of the guards’ heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She tried to look down but couldn’t; she could barely even move her neck. She could hear Oz’s screams in the distance. And Abeo’s. And Solange’s. Isabel felt like her body was shooting through the air, like she had no control over it. Suddenly she felt like she was being carried down a set of stairs. Oh, no, not again! That old musty dungeon. She couldn’t bear the thought of going back there. “Let me go, let me go!” she yelled. A rattling sound could be heard and Isabel concluded they were unlocking the gates to the cells. That sound haunted her; she couldn’t believe she was going back there again and that Oz was too. Nothing made sense to her anymore. She felt like, no matter what she did, she would still end up defeated, and nothing frustrated her more.

“You thought you could get away with this?” the woman snarled, leaning in close to Isabel. Her breath was sour; Isabel couldn’t help but squirm away. She hugged her knees to her chest and watched as the ashen faced woman disappeared behind the cells.

CHAPTER 12

“Oz, Oz,” Isabel whispered. She had been stuck in the same position for a couple of hours now; it was getting cold and she had no extra clothes, nothing to keep her from shivering convulsively. The cells were darker than last time; she thought it was because the winter was setting in. “Oz,” she said again, and this time, she felt a movement in the cell next to her.

“Hey,” he said, his knuckles the only thing visible behind the wrought iron bars. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to lay low, don’t want to cause any more problems.”

“Yeah,” Isabel breathed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” he said, his lips curving to a wry smile. His teeth had a yellowish tint to them; Isabel couldn’t care less. She leaned in and kissed him, but he pulled away, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I just can’t focus on anything right now. I won’t be able to give you my full attention, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, the silver of her eyes glowing in the moonlight. It seeped in through the barred windows, illuminating Oz’s face. Suddenly she felt a hand come over her own, and she let out a gasp, pulling her hand away.

“Isabel, it’s Presten,” a voice said. Isabel reached out and, realizing the iron bars didn’t hinder her, touched Presten’s face.

“Presten, is that really you?” she asked. “It sounds like you.”

“It is me,” he said, grabbing her hand and kissing it. Isabel didn’t know whether to feel awkward or flattered. The place was pitch dark; it was almost impossible to make out the faces of the people in there.

“Are we in the same cell?” Isabel asked, feeling around for his hand again.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I just didn’t realize it until, you know, I heard smooching sounds.”

Isabel’s chuckle sounded more like a sigh. She was careful not to make a noise, but in the silence of the cells she was secretly suffering, Presten’s presence was but a roadblock to her, a reminder of how hungry she felt. Suddenly she heard a sound that made her jump. “What was that?” she asked. Her eyes were darting back and forth, trying to discern the source of the noise. Her gaze landed on the ashen face of a little girl staring back at her through the bars. Strands of her hair were glowing in the light and she smiled at Isabel as if trying to reassure her. A little more light seeped into the room, illuminating the girl’s face. Once again, Isabel recognized her as the girl from the coffee shop.

“I know you,” she said in a small voice. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.”

“You know me?” Isabel asked, blinking at her. “What do you know about me?”

“I know that you’re the chosen one,” she said, her pearly teeth showing through her smile. “And I know he’s the chosen one, too.” She patted Presten on the back, making him jump. “There, there,” she said again. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“How do you know me?” Presten asked, squirming away.

“Like I said, I’ve seen you in my dreams.” She patted Presten on the back again, but this time, he didn’t flinch. She flashed Isabel an even wider smile, but before Isabel could say anything, the girl’s face fell away from the light, and she disappeared again.

“Isabel! Isabel, look,” Presten said, nudging her with a piece of rolled paper.

“What is that?” she asked, taking it from him.

“She left this. It literally just fell off my back,” he said. Isabel unrolled the paper and lifted it up in front of her. The blue haze of the night allowed her to read what was written; I will be back by sunrise.

“I will be back by sunrise?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “Who do you think this girl is, and is she on our side?”

“Guards!” a woman’s voice echoed across the cells. “Bring them to me!” The gates swung open and Isabel found herself being handcuffed and forced to leave the cells. Presten was right behind her, but they didn’t take anyone else.

“Isabel! Isabel!” she heard Abeo yell, his voice getting more and more distant as she went up the stairs. She squinted at what seemed to be the light at the end of the tunnel, but when she saw that same old woman standing at the top of the stairs, she rolled her eyes in disgust.

“You don’t look so happy to see me,” the woman snarled, her eyes darting from Isabel, to Presten, and then to Isabel again. “Now, let’s just cut to the chase; is Gavin dead or alive?”

“He’s alive, but not for long,” Isabel said.

“So you’re dead set on being stupid, on being reckless?” she asked, her nostrils flared. Isabel didn’t say anything. “Alright, then. Guards, take them back! And listen here, Isabel, we’re going to send out rescue missions all over Paris… and we’re going to find Gavin and the others, whether you like it, or not!”

“Well, good luck finding them,” Isabel said coldly.

“Oh, we’re going to,” she hissed. “And when we do, we’re going to kill off all the rebels, including you!”

Presten snarled at her like a dog before the guards took him away. A million thoughts were racing through Isabel’s head and when she finally settled into the depressing quietude of the cells, she felt powerful again. It was ironic, but she reminded herself that this was all cause and reaction; if they didn’t intimidate the vampires, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. “It’s almost dawn,” she said, rather to herself. A little under an hour later, the sun’s rays slashed through the windows and Isabel could breathe again. She waited for the girl to show up and when she noticed her shadow on the wall, Isabel rose to her feet attentively. Her hands were balled up; Isabel could tell she was holding something. The girl walked slowly towards Isabel and, making sure no one could see her, she handed Presten another note, and Isabel, a brown cloth bag.

“What is this?” she asked, but before she could even raise her eyes to the girl again, she was gone.

CHAPTER 13

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Isabel asked with her eyes fixated on Presten’s.

“Do we really have another choice?” he said, reaching into the cloth and pulling out a bronze handled dagger. He stared at his own reflection in the blade before he cut his hand with it. The blood came gushing out of his palm. “Fuck,” he said.

“Are you okay?” Isabel asked, her eyes wide as a set of plates. Presten grimaced, but nodded. She took the dagger and cut herself too, smearing her own blood all over the blade. “It’s the only way,” she said, rather to herself.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Presten asked.

“Kind of, it’s not too deep, though,” she said. “Alright, there are only a few hours left… all we have to do is wait until lunch time.”

“Did the note say two o’clock?” Presten asked, clenching his eyes. A sharp pain shot up his arm, but he ignored it.

“Yeah,” Isabel said, putting the blood-smeared dagger back into its cloth. She held onto it like dear life and when her gaze met Oz’s, her lips curved into a smile.

“Do you want me to go over the note with you?” he asked, his lips barely moving. Isabel could tell he had gotten weak.

“No, that’s okay… I think we’ve got it covered,” she said. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry about me. The note carries clear instructions of what we’re supposed to do, and I promise you, Oz, I promise you… we’re going to make it back safe.”

“My part here is done,” he said with the contentedness of a great master. “Now it’s all up to you to get us all out of this mess.”

“No pressure,” Presten laughed.

“So is it true that the rebels have infiltrated the council?” Oz asked, turning to Isabel.

“Yes, it says so in the note. They’ve been there for a long time, but they were dormant. It turns out they were waiting for Presten and I.”

“They are a strong force,” Oz said, his voice boiling down to a whisper. “And they tend to form rallies… they’re probably more in number than you think.”

“That’s probably the most reassuring thing I’ve heard all day,” she said, her lips curving to a smile. She exchanged brief glances with Oz, and then he got up on the balls of his feet.

“Listen to me, both of you,” he said. “Be careful of the King Vampire… they don’t write about him in books for no reason.”

Isabel’s face drooped to a scowl. She thought back to that day when she and Presten discovered Gavin’s secret book library. She thought back to that book she had been saving all this time. She had seen pictures of the King Vampire all over the pages; he was strong, intimidating. Isabel thought he resembled the devil. She couldn’t help but feel afraid, but somewhere at the back of her mind lingered the little girl’s face, and it was telling her how to act.

The hours rolled by and Isabel knew it was time to go. “It’s almost one thirty,” she said. “We should probably get going.”

“Do you think they’ve set up the lunch table yet?” Presten asked.

“Of course not, which is why we need to get there early… we need to go into the kitchen first so we can, you know, seep it into their drinks.”

“Do you have the map she gave you?” Presten asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my pocket,” Isabel replied. “We should take one last look at it.” She spread it out in front of them; it was a hand drawn map. The little girl had slipped it into the prison cell the very first time Isabel had been down in the dungeon. Presten inspected the map and then he checked his watch, motioning for Isabel to follow him outside. “Did she leave the door open?” she asked.

“Yep,” Presten said, pushing it open. They both crept outside, and as they were about the leave the dungeons, Abeo called them.

“I pray that you come back to us safe,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“We’ll be waiting for you,” Solange said, beaming. Isabel looked around and they were all staring at them, smiling. Isabel could tell they were filled with hope, that they depended on them. She nodded towards the door; they didn’t have a second to spare.

“Wait,” she whispered suddenly, stopping dead in her tracks.

“What?” Presten asked?

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. Her body shuddered momentarily before she let out a sigh and opened her eyes again. Presten heard a loud thump.

“What was that?” he asked, rushing up the stairs. The guards were scattered over the floor like dead birds. Isabel felt a strange energy being channeled towards her. She turned around to look at Abeo; he was also crouched down on the floor with his eyes clenched. Isabel knew straight away he had helped her hypnotize the guards.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes moving over to Solange, who was also fixated in that same position. Isabel then turned back and followed Presten. “Did you really think there would be no vampires standing out there?” she asked, casually trotting up the stairs. Presten’s lips curved to a smile. He had to admit, he was quite impressed.

“Well, we should probably get going if we want to make it there on time,” he said, stepping over the guards’ motionless bodies.

Presten and Isabel tiptoed across the halls. Isabel had the map memorized in her head and Presten followed her. The mansion was almost completely empty; according to the little girl with the ashen face, most of the vampires would be out on a mission to find the hostages. “We’re almost there, it should be right around that corner,” Isabel said, slowing down a bit.

“Are you okay?” Presten asked.

“I’m okay,” she said after a pause. She clenched her jaw and carried on. The kitchen was completely empty, but Isabel knew the cooks would be there soon. She held onto the cloth, picturing herself ripping that poison open and slipping it into the drinks. But she didn’t have to picture it anymore. There were wine glasses lined up on the kitchen counter like soldiers. Isabel looked left and right before she walked up to them and after making sure that no one was around, she ripped the bag open and put just a little bit of the poison in each glass, except one. This last one, she needed to spare. Isabel had a special gift for the King Vampire. She exchanged an alarmed glance with Presten as they heard footsteps. Fuck. When Isabel turned around, she was faced with one of the cooks. He was staring back at her with the bloodshot eyes of a vampire, but he didn’t say anything. He just smiled at them and popped the cork open on one of the wine bottles, pouring some in each glass.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m on your side.”

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. “Does he sit at the head of the table? You know, the King Vampire?” she asked.

“Yeah… only you can kill him, Isabel. No one else.”

“I know that,” she said, clutching the bag in her hand. Her mind kept going back to Gavin’s book; only she who bears the ivory dagger shall hold the power to terminate the King. For the past couple of weeks, she couldn’t take that verse out of her head. It lingered in her memory; it propelled her forward towards her goal. Outside, she could hear the sound of plates clicking. She knew it was time. It was approaching two o’clock; the cook took out the salad first, setting it down on the table before returning to the kitchen. He eyed both Isabel and Presten, motioning for them to lay low and be quiet. They held their breath while he went out again with a tray in his hands. Six glasses of wine, all contaminated with the venom. He set them down on the dining table, one after the other, and then retreated back into the kitchen. He peered out the door at the council members as each of them drank their wine; Isabel couldn’t believe this was it. According to the little girl, they would be dead in a matter of minutes. The time dragged on. Isabel could feel her heart beating like a jackhammer. Suddenly she heard a loud crash, followed by coughing. She peered out the door, and soon enough, all six of the diners were coughing. One of them fell off his chair and his body began to shiver. He was going into a seizure. Finally, Isabel caught a glimpse of the King Vampire as he rose to his feet, his eyes wide as dinner plates. Her body shuddered at the mere sight of him. He was clad in black with peculiarly sharp white teeth that protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality for a man of his years. He watched as the council members dropped, one after the other, and it was only then that he realized someone had poisoned them. Isabel looked over at the cook, who was shivering so convulsively that she thought he would have a heart attack. She knew it was time to act. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, her fingers wrapped tightly around the cloth, and then she took the dagger out and charged for the King.

It all happened so fast. He was so caught up trying to figure out who had poisoned him that he didn’t think twice about Isabel, or Presten. With her eyes fixated on his, she hurried along the length of the table, the blood-smeared blade in her hand. Without thinking, she jabbed the dagger into his chest, but she didn’t stop there. With the force of a fighter, she stabbed him repeatedly; Presten couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The blood splattered all over her face; it was like she was possessed by some kind of energy, and it kept her going. She pulled out the blade one last time, watching as the blood dripped from it. She was panting like a dog, eyeing King’s body as it lay motionless on the floor. “It’s done, it’s over,” she said, standing over him. Presten stumbled back a few steps and then he motioned for her to follow him outside. All seven council members were lying on the floor; only the King was lying in a puddle of his own blood. Isabel was left breathless, victorious. Her hands were balled up into fists; she knew what she had to do next. “We need to get to Oz, we need to head back to Paris as soon as possible.”

“Do you think you can get to him telepathically?” Presten asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Yeah,” Isabel said confidently. “But I’m going to need your help.” They closed their eyes and focused their powers. Isabel hadn’t felt this assured in a very long time. Her head was throbbing, but she soldiered on. She had found some kind of a happy place in her head, somewhere she could channel all her energy without many obstacles. And finally, her thoughts linked themselves to Oz’s, and she could feel him answering back to her. It’s time to go back to Paris, he said.

CHAPTER 14

Isabel wished she knew who the little girl was. But one thing was for sure: the vampires hadn’t paid her much attention, or none at all. They were all so preoccupied with council related matters that it didn’t even cross their minds a little girl might be a rebel in disguise.

“It feels good to be back again,” Presten said, staring out the bus window and onto the streets of Paris. Straight after King’s death, the rest of them had managed to break out of the dungeon. As soon as the bus pulled over, Isabel hopped off, gathering her allies around her.

“We’ve come a long way, all of us,” she said. “Now, all we need to do is show a little bit of courage, a little bit of fearlessness. The vampires are probably on their way to the old mansion right now to free Gavin, and when they do get there, we need to be there to stop them.” Oz smiled at Isabel. If anything, he was proud of her, what she had accomplished. She had grown so fierce, so heroic that even Oz felt like he couldn’t keep up with her. The pack started up the hill for one last time, one last battle. Isabel knew they were going to win this.

When they got to the top of the hill, the first thing they saw was that the gates had been busted open. The vampires had gotten there before them! Isabel rushed inside, her eyes scanning the place carefully. Suddenly, she heard a crashing sound. Were they breaking the hostages out of the dungeon? Isabel turned around, only to find that the enemy was slipping from doorways and corners. The pack had stalked in, unseen, converging from all directions.

  Isabel pulled out her dagger. She charged at one of them, running her blade into his chest. He collapsed momentarily and then got up again; that was when Isabel knew she had to get her hands on a wooden stake. Presten approached her with a chair leg, which was already smeared in blood from a previous killing, and she ran it into one of the intruders. Both Solange and Abeo fought like warriors, and although they were severely outnumbered, nothing could beat them now. Gavin was still trapped in the dungeon and despite the vampires’ untiring attempts to break into the cells they were left defeated. A familiar stink of death rose in the air; Isabel basked in it, she knew they deserved it. She found herself anticipating her attackers’ every move, and she killed them, one by one. They fell down to her feet, some begging her to spare their lives; for the first time ever, Isabel believed she was the chosen one.

“Where’s Gavin?” Presten asked. “Is he still down there?”

“We need to go check.” Isabel climbed down into the basement, and all she saw was Oz. He was just standing there, his eyes fixated on Gavin’s. His hands were balled up into fists; Isabel could see them shaking. She approached him and handed him the chair leg. She knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to see Gavin suffer, he wanted to be the one to end him. Slowly, he walked closer to him; Gavin had a smile plastered to his face, that smile Oz despised so much.

“You want to get rid of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Oz. “Well, you can go ahead and do it! Take my life! The King is dead, so why should I live?”

Oz didn’t say anything. With his hair disheveled and his eyes wide as ever, he drove the chair leg into Gavin’s chest. He fell back with a horrible thud, his clothes torn halfway off him. His eyes were open and fixated on the ceiling. His face froze in a terrible grin. Oz kicked him in the abdomen, walked away and never looked back.

“It’s done,” he said. “It’s over.”

THE END

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The Vampire’s Spell

Taken by The Night:

Book 1

Lucy Lyons

© 2017

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

I felt the first burning pain shoot through my legs as I crouched down and inhaled sharply before leaping from the rooftop to the one adjacent. With a quick roll I sprang back to my feet in a near seamless motion that propelled me back into a run. The sound of running footsteps was carried to my ears on the breeze, and two loud thuds, right on top of each other; sounded behind me. I increased my pace; ignored the burning in my chest, and gathered myself for another leap, this time to a pitched roof that I could slide down, forcing my pursuers to the ground.

Every muscle screamed at me as my target came into view. Running headlong through the gate of the large viaduct and into the stone tunnel, I skidded to a stop in front of an electronic panel disguised as a rusted out and moldy conduit. The door slid open and I threw back my shoulders and controlled my breathing. I strode purposefully toward a woman dressed in a sensible brown skirt suit, her hair pulled back into a severe bun at her neck. She glared balefully at me over horn-rimmed glasses and sighed as she jotted notes on her tablet with a stylus.

“Taking your new assignment a little seriously there, aren’t you, Simi?” I snickered, finally leaning against the stone wall at the woman’s back and puffing out my cheeks as I tried to fill my aching lungs with oxygen.

“What? I’m trying out a new look. I call it ‘Van Helsing meets nurse Ratchet’.” She did a little turn and then cleared her throat as the hunters that had been tailing me, Clayton and David, joined us in the alcove.

“It looks very professional and scary, but I for one will never forget that you are way scarier in black leather leggings than you are in a skirt,” I informed her. She giggled and arched an eyebrow at the boys.

“Do you want to know your times?” She asked. Clayton groaned and shook his head. “Not if Caroline’s been in here long enough to not even be breathing heavily.” David shook his head too.

“I’m not especially interested, but if we tanked, I need to know where I screwed up,” he confessed. “I straight lost her for a good thirty seconds. That’s life or death, man.” Simi smiled at David and batted her eyelashes, while Clayton and I rolled our eyes at each other and exchanged a fist bump on the low. It was no secret that Simi, and every other female he randomly encountered, was half in love with David. My apparent immunity to his dark brown eyes and long eyelashes was probably the reason we were still best friends. No one needed to know that I couldn’t crush on him, because what I felt was so much deeper than his dark, brooding looks.

“Well, Caroline did shave five seconds off her time, which is a new best for her.” I bowed at the neck and David laughed, putting his arm around me and squeezing me affectionately. I flushed and dropped my gaze, hoping he didn’t notice my racing pulse, or at least credited my run for the breakneck thrumming in my veins.

“Awesome Care-Bear. You are already the fastest of us, now you’re about to beat the standing record.” I rolled my eyes at the childhood nickname I abhorred, but the compliment made my face warm with pleasure. A new best was worth the burning pain that was still fading in my lungs and thighs. Training with Clayton and David, two of the best overall students of the Venatores Lamiae, the society of vampire hunters, had pushed me to heights I hadn’t imagined were possible when I first arrived.

“Clayton, your stats show that your jumps were some of your best, and you had a personal best by almost three feet in total footage. Well done. Now, if only you weren’t panting like a vampire on the edge of sunrise, I’d tell you that you should be pleased with your performance.”

“Well, if we’re ever forced to chase a vampire with Caroline’s speed and stamina for twenty miles on foot, there damn well better be a team on the other end to take over the heavy lifting,” Clayton shot back as he pushed off the wall and headed towards the dormitory. “See you for lunch after I shower,” he reminded me, pointing at me with both hands.

“You’ll probably see me in the shower,” I stammered as he wiggled his eyebrows, “I mean, in the bathroom. Ugh, you know what I mean, now go wash the stink off and stop grinning, you idiot.” His cackle floated back to me as he disappeared around the corner of corridor that led to the student dormitories.

“Do you want to tell me something, Care-Bear?” David’s face was a careful blank, but his eyes danced with amusement.

“Shut up.” He scoffed at me and followed Clayton towards our rooms. Simi arched an eyebrow and handed me her tablet so I could review the route I’d taken and my vitals at each of the check points I’d passed.

“That was the longest training chase on record that I can see. Although, I’ll have to look it up in the archives to be sure.” Simi grinned at me. “You’re such a badass. I can’t wait until you swear in; I’m going to make you the scariest thing to come out of the Lamiae, like, ever.” She placed one coffee-colored hand on my arm. “You did really well. I know you won’t do it out here in front of the guys, but in your room? You’ve earned a victory dance.” I chuckled and leaned into her.

“Once I can feel my legs again, I’ll be sure to do that.” I said goodbye and went to my dorm, keeping my pace steady and making sure I didn’t favor my aching right knee, which was jarred and painful from my last drop. I’d mistimed the last step and almost blown the kneecap. Weakness wasn’t permitted among the Lamiae, and us students were careful to show ourselves to be capable to face the demons we aimed to eradicate. I wanted to graduate top of my class just like David was about to. Those who scored the highest marks were given highest priority in assignments and the best hunters with which to train. I had top marks in every subject; from History, to Chemistry, to Vampire Anatomy. I wasn’t about to let a bad landing screw it up for me.

I stripped down to my bra and panties, and iced my knee while I pulled the course up on my laptop and reviewed my weakest moments. Aside from my last drop from roof to ground level, I had three other major slows, all in places where I had to make a choice. I opened a scheduling tab and reserved a few blocks of time in the reflexes chamber. Quick on my feet, but slow to decide. Sounded like me, all right.

I took the ice pack off my knee and threw it back in the freezer compartment of my first aid cabinet in the corner of my room. I took out my Xanax, and slipped a single pill into my pocket; out of habit more than necessity, since I hadn’t had a panic attack I couldn’t control in months. I wrapped my knee with an Ace bandage and put on sweats to wear to the shower, so the bandage wouldn’t be visible.

David and Clay were done with their showers and were primping in front of the mirror when I arrived. Between them, they had as much hair and skin product as Simi, and she was a theatrical genius and a master of disguise.

“Hurry it up, slow-poke, or we’ll have to eat without you, and you know, the cool kid table isn’t cool when you’re the only one sitting there.” I flipped David off and walked away without answering. Chances were they’d still be doing their hair when I got out, and he knew it.

David was just packing up his hygiene kit when I stepped out; back in my sweats, with my wet hair soaking the back of my shirt. He tossed me his brush and I smoothed the wet tendrils into a respectable ponytail at my crown, stealing some of his moisturizer for my face and hands before we walked out together. A couple of younger students shot daggers at me as we passed them in the hall, but my skin was thick when it came to other women’s hatred. It came with the territory, being raised alongside God’s gift to women. Sure, he had chocolate eyes that looked right through you, a six-foot frame under the build of an all-American, and a perpetual tan, courtesy of his Brazilian heritage. Okay, so he was bloody beautiful, and sometimes, he was a little too aware of it.

But David wasn’t just my best friend; he was also my big brother. When I arrived at his house, I couldn’t speak. I was so little, and the horror of watching my parents mutilated and killed for sport was more than I could process at the age of three. He was only one year older than me, but even then; he’d protected me and kept me safe. When I was old enough, David’s parents; my new family, had explained the truth behind my memories and nightmares. That was when I learned that vampires were real. It was also when my foster father showed me a photograph of a face I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried. This time though, the vampire’s eyes weren’t glowing red with hellfire like they were the night he visited my home: they were lifeless and clouded, his head lolling in a basket, severed from the rest of his body.

David had held my hand, trying to protect me from the image, but it didn’t hurt to see the vampire’s death. I’d felt such a fierce joy that it frightened me. My foster parents were hunters, members of the Venatores Lamiae, an elite cadre started by the Roman church millennia before to observe, hunt, and eradicate the scourge of vampirism. David had always been the one to stand between me and the world.  The more I stood on my own, the more he made me feel like I could do anything.

I sighed, the ache in my knee was distracting and sharp.  David didn’t say a word. He just put his arm around me, draping my arm over his shoulders. It took the weight off my knee while making it look like besties just being affectionate. Because Clayton and I had done so well, our practice times had been broadcasted through the bunker and gossiped about, thoroughly. David and I walking like a couple of drunks in the middle of the day wouldn’t even make them blink.

“So, did you hear a pop, or are you just sore?” He asked as we sat across the table from Clay.

“It twanged. Not a, full-on, pop.” Clay gaped at us then muttered something under his breath as David got back up to get us lunch. “Clayton, what’s up?” I asked.

“You ran the course injured, and you still kicked my ass.”

“Well, it helps that I treat it like it’s not practice every time. It’s not you chasing me; it’s him. Pretty damn good motivation, if you think about it.”

“Okay, that’s messed up, and probably exactly what I should be doing.”

“I’m going to ask them to randomize the course again. Will you back me up?”

“But, we’re just getting used to it. Oh; I get it; you’re a slave driver, but yes I’ll back you up. You really want to blow the records out of the water, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I was aiming for. I went over my run today, and every time I had to make a choice, I froze. I’m not like you and David; I don’t even know anyone but you guys, Simi, and my teachers. I freeze; I have panic attacks. I’m afraid they’ll stick me in a library and never give me a chance.” David slid a tray in front of me, with a salad big enough for two people, and fragrant garlic bread.

“You haven’t had a panic attack in a long time. You’re unique here, and everybody agrees that you’re special Care-Bear,” he said. I just rolled my eyes at him.

“Girls who tell me I’m worthless sing my praises to you, David. They don’t think I’m special. They want you to like them.” Clay nodded, shrugging when David glared at him.

“Sorry bro. As your wingman, I can tell you she’s on point. You two are scary together. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like with you guys running the place someday.” He winked at me and I had to smile back. Clay’s positivity was unusual around here, where every day was life or death, by necessity. “So, are we ready for some beach time?” David beat on the table like a drum and grinned.

“I’m already packed. How about you, squirt?” Clay chimed in.

“Yes, I’m packed. And if you call me squirt again, I’m going to break your legs.” I drawled. I was as excited to get away as the guys, but nervous. It was the first time we were getting to go away without constant adult supervision, and I was anxious about losing my safety net and being around strangers at the same time. But Malibu sounded so amazing, and I couldn’t wait to spend some time on the beach. Once David was apprenticed, he’d be up mostly at night. Clay and I had already decided that when he started night training, we would too, which meant a serious limit on time to bask in the sun.

I glanced at David out of the corner of my eye and thought about what Clay had said. I had no intention of coming in second to anyone in the Venatores Lamiae, but it made my chest feel tight, and my stomach heat up, to think of spending my near future even closer to David. I’d no longer be able to stand one step behind and watch him forget I existed when we weren’t alone.

After we had finished eating, David snuck me into the nurses’ station without our monitor; Simi, or any of the teachers seeing us, and cajoled the nurse into giving me a cortisone injection for my knee. She barely seemed to notice I was there, despite me being the patient, until I asked David to leave so I could talk to her about girl stuff. When he left, she gave me a death stare, until I pulled out some tears, just enough to make her feel guilty. I looked even younger than my seventeen years on my best day.  My glassy eyes and red nose only knocked a couple more years off that. By the time I left, she’d handed over an additional injection “for an adult to give me if I needed it”. I also asked for more Xanax, and oral anti-inflammatories, which I’d add to my kit for emergencies.

Clay and David were both waiting outside the triage when I walked out. My pain had almost completely subsided already. David put an arm around me and I let him, even though I didn’t need the support anymore. After all, who was I to turn down the support of my best friend?

Chapter 2

The entire class was buzzing with the conversations of twenty students as we all tried to guess what was keeping Eldritch. Our Anthropology professor was never late, and there were already speculations that he’d been called out on a hunt and wasn’t coming back. But Eldritch was far too old to be actively hunting vampires, even if the thought of him being hospitalized did make most of us smile. I was set to be valedictorian of my class, top marks, never late or missing homework, and even I couldn’t escape his foul temper. He swept into the classroom, and there was an audible groan from all of us at the sight of the black storm cloud in his expression. “Two more days ‘til vacation”, I thought. “Two more days”.

“I have a special treat for you today, class.” Eldritch spat out the words, literally, so that a fine mist settled on my desk and books. I forced myself to ignore it and not brush it away. I took comfort in the fact that it probably was going to be a treat for us. He seemed pretty unhappy, and he hated anything his students thought was fun. “I present to you,” Eldritch continued, “Signora Borgia, master of the eleventh order of magic and elder of the Venatores Lamiae.”

A collective gasp went up around the room as a slender, pale woman glided to the front of the classroom and bowed at her neck. This was the closest I’d ever been to a true legend. Signora Borgia was a hunter and magic-user. According to my textbooks, she’d been born to a powerful Italian family of hunters, during the Renaissance. She looked no more than twenty-five, which meant she was an incredibly powerful sorceress. Magic and psychic powers like her telepathy were incredibly rare; it meant that those with talents were the most valuable members of the Venatores. Signora Borgia was the most renowned of them all.

She looked at each of us in turn, and my throat went dry as I waited for her to look at me. When her eyes finally lit on my face, I felt an instant recognition, even before I heard her voice in my head Startled by the invasive sensation, I felt something like a door slamming shut inside me. It was followed by the impression that someone was pushing at it from the outside. My heart raced and I shook, but my jaw locked and I couldn’t speak or tell her to stop. My foster parents had explained that my mind worked differently from others. Until now, I didn’t understand what they’d been trying to say.

Her face registered surprise, and she stepped up to my desk, touching my forehead with one long, cool finger. She traced a series of symbols across the fevered skin above my eyebrows, starting at the right temple and moving across to end at the left.

“I am Dominique, Caroline. It is fascinating to meet someone so young who has raw, untrained psychic ability,” she projected telepathically, her voice an echo inside my head that gave me goosebumps. “I regret frightening you. Please come out, I’m not here to harm you.” Her being washed over me, entreating me to be calm, but I didn’t know how to control what I was doing. I had built my psychic walls in a terrifying instant, unaware of what I was doing. When Venatores doctors had noticed this ability in me, they had called it traumatic disassociation. They said is wasn’t a valid psychic ability, but a one-time herculean effort to save myself. I wasn’t excited about proving them wrong in the middle of class.

The spot where Dominique had touched my forehead began to cool, in swirls and symbols that followed the spell, or whatever she had done to me. I felt my jaw unlock gradually and my walls melted away like ice. It wasn’t at all like the violent tearing down that I would have expected. I took a deep breath and thanked her, using her telepathic connection. Dominique rewarded me with a smile that warmed me to my toes.

“Now that Caroline is finished interrupting class, let’s carry on with the lesson, shall we?” Professor Eldritch’s acerbic tone made Dominique’s eyes fly wide, and then she winked at me.

“Oh, I agree, Professor. In fact, I’d like Caroline to join me at the front for a demonstration She’s going to be my guinea pig, and help me teach a vital skill that every hunter should know.” Eldritch motioned for me to join the sorceress at the front of the class; his jaw was working under his skin like he was grinding hard enough to break his own teeth.

“Now, can you explain to the class what happened when I touched your mind?” Dominique asked. I hesitated, unsure of how to explain without speaking of my parents, a secret that only David and his parents were privy to.  I’d prefer the whole school think I was weird and shy and a nerd. I wasn’t sure I could stand pity or fear from them.

“I. Um, I had a really bad experience as a child. The kind of thing that no one can really describe without making the room super uncomfortable, so, I won’t go there. But, when it happened, I was little… barely talking in full sentences, little.” I cleared my throat. “So, when I was found after the bad thing happened, I wasn’t speaking. The doctors called it ‘catatonic’,” I shared, looking straight at Dominique, and pretending the class wasn’t even there. “But my foster brother seemed to always know what I wanted, how I was feeling, and what I wanted to say, even though I was silent for a long time.”

“You shared a psychic connection?” Dominique questioned.

“That’s what my foster parents guessed, but we were never sure. I went to therapy and tore down the walls that I built to protect my mind, over a long time, one brick at a time.” I swallowed hard. “I threw them back up the moment I felt you in my head. How did you get them down so easily?” The sheer power I’d felt pushing at me was terrifying. I questioned my right to be at a school with kids so brave and ready to fight monsters that I couldn’t even imagine without giving myself nightmares.

“That, in fact, is exactly why I am here.” Dominique smiled at me like I’d just discovered a new element of magic. “The first thing any student should learn, even before they learn to hunt, is how to protect their own minds from intrusion. Vampires are highly developed predators. They have the upper hand in almost every situation, and many can even infiltrate minds, like I did when I entered the room. I’m going to spend a few days with you, teaching you how to keep your minds safe.” She motioned me to my chair, and I sank to the wooden seat with shaky legs.

Eldritch sat in the corner behind his desk, and I glanced at him when I felt his eyes on me. His face was unreadable as he watched me, but the scrutiny was enough to make my palms damp, and I fingered the pill in my pocket like a touchstone.

Signora Borgia explained the visual of mental blocks. She said we each had to have them ready at our command, without putting any thought into it. She also explained that when shields were automatic, but not cultivated and practiced, like mine, they were much easier to break down. To prevent this, she gave us instructions for building our strongest, best mental shields.

Class had gone almost an hour over before Eldritch finally released us. I was gathering my books and waiting for the crowd pressing out the door to thin so I could make my escape, when Dominique and Eldritch approached my desk.

Dominique addressed me. “Caroline, I would like to give you one extra bit of homework before you go. You are the only student in the class who can accomplish it, and I feel that it would be of use to you right away to have it.” I nodded, and she handed me a notebook. “This is my first spell book. I was your age when I started to exhibit talents, and I was obsessed with writing down everything I learned, because I had no one to teach me.” I looked at the ancient leather binding in awe. “It was a different time then, and I have no doubt you will surpass me in time, given some instruction and time to realize your strength.” She opened the vellum pages to a section marked with a red silk ribbon. “This spell will help you bring anyone back to themselves. If another controls them or if they are hysterical with fear or even rage this spell, done correctly, will bring them back to their rational mind.” I read the words silently, mouthing them as I did.

“I have used that spell to bring even vampires out of their blood fugue,” Eldritch added. His face was grave, but the resentment and irritation that usually marked our conversations was absent. “You are too fragile to be here, Caroline. I have always thought that, and my opinion hasn’t changed. However, with this, I think your chances of survival are greatly improved.”

“Thank you, professor,” I replied. “I hope that all my hard work helps too.” For a moment, I could have sworn I saw compassion in his eyes. In a flash, it was gone and his crusty demeanor was firmly in place.

“By hard work, I hope you mean you’re going straight back to your room to practice,” he drawled. He held the door open and gestured me through. I nodded my thanks to both him and the Signora, and escaped before he came up with anything more cutting to chase me out the door.

I jogged back to my dorm room, texting David on the way. He was thrilled that people were seeing my true abilities. All I felt was the crushing weight of more possible failures chasing me down as surely and physically as the undead we hunted.

He asked me to meet him outside, in the park that the society had built around the viaduct entrance. He also warned me to wear my sneakers. I pulled a scoop neck t-shirt over my head and added a light jacket that I tied around my waist. I’d learned after years of unplanned adventures with David that a twenty-minute walk could turn into hours of tailing random people for practice, or breaking into warehouses and running rooftops in the dark. Everything he did was to further his one goal: to carry on the family legacy as a Venatores Lamiae master-hunter. No one understood that better than I did, and he knew I was on his side, no matter how much trouble we got in after.

The air was cooler than I expected as I slipped out the back door through the viaduct, but this wasn’t exactly a shock for the Pacific Northwest. Our teachers gave us a curfew because we knew something the public around us didn’t; our knowledge made us targets. David (and Clayton, who was with him) had scouted around the back door and made sure it was clear and no one, inside or outside, had seen us leaving.

“Hey, Care-bear, the clouds are thick tonight. There’s no telling what he’s going to want us to do,” Clayton quipped. I nodded and hid my smile behind my hand as David rounded the corner. Even in the half light of the street lamp, I could see the flush that darkened his naturally olive skin. He held out a card to me, and I peered at it in the light.

“A fake ID?” I arched an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to ask how you got someone to make this.”

“Good strategy. You should do that more often,” he teased. “We’re going on vacation, to a resort with poolside bar service. I, for one, want to give these a trial run before we try them out of state.” I shrugged and slipped the fake driver’s license in the clear plastic pocket of my wallet, then zipped my real one into the change purse so I wouldn’t get confused and show the wrong one after a beer or two. After all, if I had two beers, that would take my lifetime grand total up to three. I wouldn’t bet that I could win any drinking contests, and I didn’t want to try.

The night seemed to take on a more ominous chill as I considered exactly how far south the night could go, but I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t brave, but I wasn’t a snitch either.  If I didn’t go and someone noticed the boys’ absence, I’d be the first person called to the Dean’s office.

David stayed close to home, but far enough that we didn’t run too much of a chance bumping into anyone we knew. My heart was in a vice as we stepped up to the door, knowing my stupid little girl face was going to give us away, and I hesitated at the steps. The bar was dingy and poorly lit even on the outside, just like the ones in the movies. A Bud Light sign in the window flickered and blinked from an electrical short, and when we walked in and showed our ID’s, the bouncer barely spared us a glance. We could’ve used our real ID’s and no one would’ve been the wiser. I filed the information away for later and let David lead us to a high-top table.

A pretty, blonde lady in a low-cut tank top and shorts that were far too short for comfort on wet, cold Seattle nights, appeared at my elbow, making me jump. She wasn’t there for me though, and soon, David had her swooning. I looked away, working to unclench my jaw and school my face into a more neutral expression than what I felt in the churning pit of my stomach. Perhaps his skill at mindless flirtation was a psychic talent, that he could make panties of any age drop, just by smiling. I watched the other patrons of the bar as the waitress took our orders and promised to be back soon. I even managed not to growl at her when she touched David on the arm before strutting away.

“Damn man, normally I love being your wingman, you know that. But now, it’s just getting depressing,” Clay complained. I giggled and shot Clay a wry smile. We both knew the truth, that he’d have given anything to be David, and I’d have given anything to be with him. He was right. It was depressing.

“So, Dominique Borgia hijacked my anthropology class today,” I blurted, eager to change the subject.

“No kidding. She doesn’t come around every year; you must have some talent in your class,” David mentioned, slamming his mouth shut as the waitress appeared right at his side with pints of dark amber beer for each of us. I didn’t answer, and Clay made an exasperated sound.

“Seriously, why am I friends with either of you. You’re giving me an inferiority complex!” He half-laughed as he spoke, but I saw the shadow that passed over his eyes.

“You’re friends with us, because you’re the fastest, strongest guy in your graduating class, and anyone with a quarter of a brain wants you at their back when stuff goes down,” I reminded him. “I broke my own record today, and you almost caught me, with a lead.” I glanced at David, encouraging him to help me make Clayton feel better, but he rolled his eyes, his mouth set in a frown.

“Well, that’s true,” Clay mused. “If you hadn’t done the last three miles on a busted knee, I’d feel pretty good about myself.” Now it was Clay who rolled his eyes, but this time I giggled.

“Help me out here, David?” I asked. David didn’t say anything, and I peered over at him. His face had gone dark and angry. I knew he couldn’t stand that anyone, even Clayton, had performed better than him.  I touched his hand and smiled. “You two are the best in your class. I wish I was graduating with you, and I didn’t have to wait another year,” I confessed. It was enough to salve his ego. The storm clouds cleared and he smiled at me.

“Sorry, Caroline. wish you were coming with us too.”

“I love you guys. I’ll miss you after graduation,” I replied. My heart beat like it could burst out of my chest, and I mentally cheered as I managed to keep my face calm. David seemed happier, but something had changed in the air, and after only one beer, the guys were as ready to sneak back into the compound as I was. David paid the bill, snickering to us as he showed us the name and phone number written on the back of his receipt. Clay sputtered and threw up his hands in mock dismay.

“Marry young, David, or I’ll never have a chance at a girl.” David was in better spirits as we split up to sneak in at our favorite spots, and I sighed and kicked a loose rock outside the vent I used to sneak back into my wing of the dormitory. Boys might be the death of me, I thought. But, I had Dominique’s present waiting for me.

With a satisfied smile, I dropped down into my room from the vent above my bed and picked up the little leather booklet Dominique had given me. The spell was simple enough, even though it was in Latin, for which I was grateful. My grasp of dead languages wasn’t as good as the ones I could Google translate if I got stuck.

I read the words three or four times, then sat at my desk with a small mirror in front of me and practiced my shields. With the three of us going away for Spring break, it couldn’t hurt to have some practice and extra protection. I stared into the mirror, then closed my eyes and visualized my new psychic shields.

Dominique had explained that mine was brittle, and more likely to shatter than it should have been, even though I’d had it so long. So, instead of brick, like the house I’d lived in before a vampire drained my parents before my eyes, I visualized smooth forged steel. Impenetrable and cold, it began far under the earth in my mind’s eye. I let it flow up out of the earth as though it grew naturally, so it was as much a part of nature as if it had been a tree or mountain. I pushed until I felt faint, stretching the wall up and over me until I could see it closed around me, like a tower or a bullet casing.

I opened my eyes and in doing so caught my reflection in the mirror. I was sweating, beads gathering on my upper lip and rivulets of the salty stuff dripping down the sides of my face. I sent up a prayer to whoever might be listening; that my life wouldn’t depend on this skill anytime soon, and turned off my desk lamp. I had one more day of classes before break and the vacation of a lifetime. Knowing David, I figured that meant I needed to sleep while I could.

Chapter 3

David held my hand as the plane took off and I tried to control my nervous twitching. I wasn’t sure if it was my first plane trip or his fingers intertwined with mine that was making me so nervous. Clay was across the aisle, and I sat between them, thinking I was less likely to panic if I wasn’t in a window seat. In my pocket was my emergency medicine cabinet, but I clung to David and focused on the pressure of his hand, while Clay distracted me from the shaking and bouncing with his easy conversation.

Even with their support, and a few trips to the lavatory to splash cold water on my face and practice my shielding, I was still a wobbly mess when we deplaned. I had to fight the urge to kiss the dirty concrete when my feet hit the ground. I felt for the pill in my pocket, grateful that I’d managed not to use it. It had been so long since I’d had to take anything for my anxiety and I was starting to think I might finally have the tools not to need them anymore.

We passed a trash bin on the way to the luggage carousels, and I dropped the pill inside of it. A wave of panic swept over me, but quickly passed, and when I caught up to the guys and our luggage, I was still smiling. Clayton got the keys to the rental car and before I knew it we were heading down a palm tree lined drive. We came to a large iron gate that closed in the exclusive resort we’d saved, begged, and borrowed to be able to afford.

David showed the guard our reservations and he opened the gates. The excitement in the Jeep was palpable. It only increased when the first hit of salty ocean air filled my lungs, and I was sure the bikinis that the guys found themselves surrounded by didn’t hurt their mood at all. We had a suite; the guys in one room on two queens, me in the lock off on a king. I teased them about the advantages of being the only girl, and they came back with a refusal to let me lock the door.

I laughed, but secretly I was happy it meant that neither of them would be bringing anyone back to their room; I was okay with that. David was the first in his swimsuit and he ordered me downstairs as soon as I had put my things away. Clayton paused in my doorway on his way out, his ultra-pale Irish skin making me smile.

“Hey, good job on that plane ride, miss anxiety,” he teased. “Proud of you.” I blushed as my grin split my face. I had ridden on an airplane, and done it without any medicine. I was in a new state, in a strange room, without an adult in sight to run to if things went south. My heart pounded and my hands shook as I pulled out the swimsuit that I had let Simi talk me into buying. It was the tiniest thing I’d ever seen, the hot pink fabric shaping to my chest in triangles so small I looked like I had a chest.

The bottoms weren’t much better so I wrapped my sarong around my hips and paced my room for ten minutes before working up the courage to go down to the pool with the guys. I put on the large brimmed hat I’d bought on impulse and left the room. Down the wide marble stairs at the salt water infinity pool I knew I’d find the guys, flirting with girls who thought they had money.

I saw them before they saw me, but David’s eyes followed me as I rounded the pool and sat down next to them. The look of sheer shock that flitted across his face thrilled me, but the one that followed made me grateful I was already sitting. His brown eyes went almost black as they filled with something I’d never seen from any man before. It was dark and possessive and so utterly masculine that my throat closed off and my face and neck crimsoned.

“Woah, Caroline,” Clayton blurted. “Like, damn, girl!” He gave a low whistle and I laughed and shook my head.

“I can always count on you to make me feel less nervous, Clay,” I laughed. “Thank God you’re here. I’d probably be depressed otherwise, when I got home and no one noticed me.” He arched his eyebrows at me.

“Fat chance, honey. Don’t worry, we won’t let anybody carry you off to be their sex slave.” I gasped and stammered.

“I’m going for a swim. You guys are really something else.” I poked Clayton in the ribs as I passed him, then handed him my hat as an afterthought. “You better have put on sunscreen, or the hunters are going to think we brought home our very own sun-roasted vampire by the time we leave.” David chuckled and tossed Clay the sun block that had been laying on the table between the chaise lounges. Clay complained that he had no one to apply it, but just as I held out my hand for the tube of lotion, David stepped between us.

I couldn’t see David’s face, but Clay’s went pale, then sunburn red, in an instant. His jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his sides, but like a flash, it was over, and I was left wondering if I’d imagined it. I would’ve written off his sudden change of mood if the guys hadn’t been clashing more frequently than I’d noticed before. I took David by the hand and pulled him to the side of the pool.

“Whatever is going on between you guys, you need to get it figured out, David,” I cautioned him. “Clayton and I are your friends. Don’t push us away.”

“Clayton and I, huh? It used to be you and me then him, remember?”

“Not likely I’d forget, David. But, I made room for him, even though it made me jealous sometimes.” He scoffed. “No, really,” I continued, “You guys can talk about stuff and have things in common that make me feel left out. Whatever you think he’s done, or said, let it go. He’s your friend. He’d kill for you, dumbass.”

David rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He nodded and waved to get Clay’s attention. I should’ve known that he was up to no good, because he agreed so quickly. But, it was still a complete shock when the ground disappeared from under my feet. I hit the water with a shriek and surfaced to the sight of both guys clutching their sides, laughing. I sank to the bottom and launched myself straight up like I was roof running, and grabbed David’s shoulder and Clay’s shorts. Their faces changed from mocking to shock as I pulled them into the water on top of me, submerging us all.

When we had recovered, we hung on the edge of the pool near the snack bar. It wasn’t long before we found another girl to make us a foursome and played chicken in the middle of the pool. I sat on David’s shoulders, and the redhead on Clay’s. Despite being in the water, it wasn’t long before I was completely parched, and asked David if he’d come with me to get drinks.

“Clay actually offered to buy this round,” David replied.

“True story, Caroline, let me grab my wallet.” Clay came back with his wallet and my hat and we walked to the bar. I listened while Clay pointed out the tropical flora that the resort had put in, which didn’t belong in the area. He was well-versed in herbology. I’d never thought of how that information could matter outside of the all-important salves that hunters used to prevent vampires from using glamor and clouding their minds. I was impressed and told him so, and laughed as he blushed.

“It’s just me, Clay, I can admit to you that you’re good at stuff,” I teased. He smiled, but didn’t say anything in response. He bought fruity drinks for me and the redhead, Tracy, and beers for himself and David. It seemed that whatever had gone on between the guys had passed, and I tried to let go of the sensation that there was another shoe about to drop.

Tracy was with her older siblings and their families. She was happy to tag along with us to avoid becoming the nanny to her nieces and nephews. I was grateful for one more reason to avoid mentioning hunter-things and to just relax. Clayton was like a puppy, serving her hand and foot and buying her lunch, plus all her drinks. She kept watching David, but I chalked it up to his unidentified talent and ignored it. After all, he was almost as generous with me as Clay was with his new friend.

We agreed to meet up with Tracy for a late supper and dancing at the club on the resort. We went to our rooms to relax, check in with our respective responsible parental-types, and wash off the salt. The sun was already low in the sky when we walked down to the garden to meet Tracy. I felt a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature, and everything to do with the recognition that when that golden orb disappeared, the monsters would come out to play. I’d been at the Venatores school for so long, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stopped to enjoy a sunset, instead of fearing them.

I’d felt confident in my little black dress, until we met up with Tracy and another girl she’d brought with her. Both were dressed to the nines, more skin showing than covered. I felt frumpy in my short black strappy dress and sandals. Tracy still had eyes for David, and I suppressed my usual twinge of jealousy and irritation when she brushed up against him and batted her eyelashes. I was sure David would never hurt Clay by encouraging her, and she would be gone in a day or two anyway.

The restaurant was busy, so we were encouraged to sit at the bar while we waited. We filed into the narrow bar area, with me on one side of David; Tracy on the other, and Clay sandwiched between the two girls. On another day, I would’ve made a joke about how lucky they both were. Her persistent attention toward David and her inattention to Clay were getting under my skin. 

When I saw her hand on David’s thigh, my kettle reached the boiling point!! I felt hot rage rise in me like steam, ready to pour out of my mouth if I didn’t keep it closed. I grabbed David’s arm and forced him to turn towards me, making her hand fall away.

“What the hell are you doing, David?” I hissed at him, trying to keep my voice low enough to avoid a scene. “You know Clay likes her! You know that you can have any girl you want! Why can’t you just once, just one damn time, tell someone ‘no’, and have a little integrity?”

“Seriously? You’re going to do this here?” He jerked his arm out of my grasp.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m asking you not to do this to your friend.” I looked at him, but hardly recognized the petulant, selfish boy in front of me.

“Okay, you want me to say ‘no’. I get it,” he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Tracy, then faced me and looked me in the eyes. “No, Caroline. You need to let me go and understand that you and I aren’t here for a romantic getaway. Go find yourself a nice guy, no one is stopping you.” I felt cold. The color drained from my face and I felt lightheaded. I imagined knocking him from his barstool with a stiff right to his jaw, but instead, took a deep breath.

“I hope she’s worth it, David,” I murmured, leaning in so he could hear me. “I can’t help but wonder what you’re going to do when you get home, without the friends you left with. Are you sure that her attention, her liking you, is really worth losing the two people who always have your back?” I slid off the barstool and stormed away without waiting for a response. I was too angry and hurt to pay attention to the niggling fear that still sat between my shoulder blades.

Unfortunately, as every hunter worth their salt knows, anger is a great way to lose focus. It’s the one emotion that causes more stupid choices and deaths to our kind than any other outside factor. But I wasn’t a hunter yet. I rushed headlong through the garden of tropical flowers, trying to find the shortest path to my room.

I strayed from the path and almost instantly stepped on a loose stone that kicked my already injured knee out at a bad angle. I cried out in pain and fell hard, sitting in the dirt, in the dark. I cursed David and my knee and the stupid idea to take a vacation in the first place.

“What a great first day of vacation,” I said aloud to myself.

“Are you talking to me?” replied a thickly accented voice far too close behind me. I whipped my head around, but could only see the silhouettes of flowers and palm trees on a canvas of shadows. My pulse sped up and I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “No, sorry, I was talking to myself. I tripped. Have a good night!” I called out lamely. The darkness shifted when I looked back over my shoulder. My stomach clenched and heaved. Something was there that didn’t want to be seen.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the dark alone. Let me walk you to your hotel.” The voice was closer, but no matter where I looked, no one was there. Fear crept up my spine as psychic power poured over me. This wasn’t like Lady Borgia’s power, that I felt inside my head. The power I felt now made me blind to whatever it was I felt breathing on my face.

“I am a student of the Venatores Lamiae. You will hear from them, if you touch me,” I gasped.

“Venatores,” the voice in the darkness scoffed. “What use do they have for pretty, tiny creatures like you?”

There was a whoosh of air and a disembodied hand grabbed my throat, squeezing tightly enough that I could choke out raspy whispers, but not scream for help. An earthy smell of sweat and mold and decay filled my nose and I struggled harder, to no avail.

The monster held my throat and pinned me to his chest, his clawed hand over my heart, as though we were lovers. I trembled and he sighed, his foul breath moving my hair. In my last conscious moment I felt his papery, dry lips on my temple. Sheer terror swept through my mind as I threw up my psychic shields, my last defense against the evil that overcame me.

Chapter 4

My head was on fire. I was so disoriented that it took a moment to realize that I hurt almost everywhere else too. My knee screamed with sharp, stabbing pain when I shifted; it was hot and swollen to the touch. Even though I wasn’t bound; the darkness of my surroundings was so thick that I had the sensation of being all alone in a vast emptiness. My heart pounded harder as I automatically put my hand in my pocket for the little oblong pill; before I remembered it was gone!

I began to hyperventilate, bright stars appearing in my vision against the pure black canvas all around me. I struggled to my knees and put my forehead on the cool stone floor to focus and calm down. I slowly erected my mental shields, picturing them shutting out the darkness and the stars, until I no longer felt blind. I reached out the way Signora Borgia had begun teaching us, visualizing my mind like fingers stretching out in front and around me. As I reached out with my mind I could feel; almost see; the wall ahead of me. Emboldened by my success I crawled forward; dragging my hurt leg behind me until my fingers met cool, dry stone. This stone was cut in blocks; I traced a line of mortar laterally until I found a corner and continued along that wall until I brushed a doorframe with my fingertips.

I used the frame to inch myself into a standing position, grateful that the ceiling was high enough above my head that I couldn’t touch it. Exhaling the breath I’d been unconsciously holding in a heavy sigh of relief, I ran my hands over the door. The door was made of a thick steel frame with wooden slats. I felt air move against my face, and as I slid my hands up the center of the door to the slight breeze, I found a barred window trimmed in the same cold steel as the door itself. I decided if there was a door and a window; then at least I wasn’t in a stone box. I’d found my exit! I sank to the floor with relief as my legs, which were like useless wet noodles; collapsed under me.

I was in trouble obviously; but I wasn’t sealed in a crypt. A crypt wouldn’t have doors with windows; just stone boxes for dead, or undead, bodies. It seemed a ridiculous thing to want, but I half-hoped I’d been stolen by organ thieves. I was barely a student of the Venatores lamiae, but I still knew how to fight a human and win; even injured.

Even I as I dared to let that hope form in my head; logic, and the sheer blackness around me shot me down. I breathed in deeply and reached out with my other senses, trying to get a clue as to where I was despite my blindness. The walls around me were dry, but the air that whispered over my face was musty and damp.

It was impossible to tell the time of day. After finding the corner farthest from the door; I put my back into it and listened for anything approaching through the corridor outside my cell. It was only going to be a matter of time before whomever, whatever, had taken me was going to come back. I had no intention of being caught off-guard again.

In my cell, the darkness and silence felt like an endless night. I couldn’t imagine what perverse creature could find comfort in a life underground. If my captors returned and tried to turn me; I swore to myself that I would force them to kill me.

“Kill or be killed, I guess,” I said to myself, jumping at how loud my voice sounded in the darkness.

“Oh my God, hello?” A young, female voice floated back to me in the darkness. I jumped again, my heart racing. Why hadn’t I considered I wasn’t alone?

“Hello!” I called out. “Who’s out there?”

“I’m Becca. I’m in a dark room, it’s so black in here.” She sounded distant, like she was at the other end of whatever hallway joined our cells.

“Yes, there’s a window in the door of the cell. But it’s so dark. The entire corridor must be sealed off from light.” Silence enshrouded me again, and in a panic, I called out to her, just to hear her voice. “Becca, can you guess how long you’ve been here? Or tell me how you were taken?”

“I was staying at the Fairfield resort in Malibu. I went to a beach party with my friend. A man grabbed her, I screamed, and that’s the last thing I remember before waking up here.”

“Okay, can you move around? Try measuring your room with steps. Find the door.”

“Yes. Okay.”

I stopped talking for a few seconds, trying to stay calm in the heavy silence so she could concentrate. I counted out thirty seconds in my head, then forty, before she screamed.
      “Becca! Becca, tell me what happened!”

“Kenzie? Kenzie?” I heard her repeat a name. It sounded like she was crying, but not immediate danger.

“Becca!” I called out again, “What happened. What’s going on?”

“Kenzie isn’t answering.”

“Are you sure it’s your friend?” I thought fast. If they were putting more than one girl in a cell, maybe we were due for more company.

“Yes, she had her hair in a braid.”

“Okay, good. Touch her face. Can you feel her breathing?” I waited.

“Yes, yes, she’s alive!” Becca sobbed, her voice thick with emotion. “Oh, God, Kenzie, wake up!”

“Becca, how long have you been awake?”

“Only since right before I heard you.” I thought for a moment. I must have been taken long before the others, and whatever they’d done to put me out had worn off, but not before they’d come back with Becca and her friend.

“Becca, I’m sure she’ll wake up soon; okay, just stay calm and we’ll figure this out together,” I reassured her, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my own stomach. I’d been awake for at least a couple of hours; but who knew how long the effects would last.

In a panic, I ran my fingers down the line of my neck on both sides, following the carotid artery and jugular veins. I did the same with my arms, checking the veins at my elbows and wrists. I was almost afraid to continue, but I undid my pants and slid them off. I felt over my hips, down my thighs, and down my legs to my ankles. No bite marks; I hadn’t been bitten anywhere on my body.

I started shivering; I had no idea if it was from relief or shock! Tears formed a lump in my throat; I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked while I cried until I could speak again. Becca and I had been silent for a few minutes as she tended to her friend, but I had to know if either of them had been bitten either.

“Hey, Becca, are you still there?”

“Yeah, are you all right?” She paused before continuing. “It’s okay if you’re crying; I was too. I just meant are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I do need you to do something for me. I need you to check your veins for puncture marks.” I sighed, waiting for the questions that would lead to her telling me I was crazy.

“Do you think the guys that took us injected us with drugs?” It was as good a reason as I could give without sounding like a lunatic, and she was already in a black hole with no idea if her friend was hurt or sick. I was worried a vampire had put her under so deeply that she might never wake up.

“Yeah,” I replied, rubbing my face with my hands. “So, you know, anything like that. It might not even be noticeable, except for a sore spot over a vein, like… like a bruise you don’t remember getting.” I took a shaky breath. “I checked myself, and I didn’t find anything, I just want us all to be sure. Your friend,”

“Mackenzie.”

“Right, Mackenzie. When she wakes up, we’ll have her do the same thing to herself.”

“I’m doing it now.” Stuck in the dark halfway from nowhere I couldn’t see or hear her moving, so I had to take her word for it. Maybe all the time in the dark or the time in the Venatores lamiae had made me paranoid. “The only bruise I have is on my butt. Maybe that’s where they stuck the needle. It’s pretty sore.” I grinned. With no easy access to major arteries or veins, it was unlikely she’d been bitten on her butt. Her voice was as giddy as I felt.

We were stuck in the dark, hungry; I was about to have to pee in a corner. But we were alive, and fang-free; at least for the moment. I felt fresh tears sting my eyelids, but I was okay. Becca was okay and hopefully Mackenzie would be okay. The next step was to figure out how to get free. We had to get word to David and Clay in order for the hunters to come for us.

There was so much I didn’t know yet, so many things that weren’t taught to us until we’d been initiated. So I started with what I did know: the truth and the lore of vampires.

Chapter 5

Becca and I chatted for a long time about where we came from, who we were, and how we were taken. We talked so long that I started to worry about her friend, Mackenzie. The upside was that we’d been gone long enough for David and Clayton to notice, and that meant hunters were already looking for us. I hated that my own stupidity and jealousy had left me alone and off-guard. I’d practically begged to be taken by naively wandering off on my own. David and Clayton had probably been happy to be rid of me, the fifth wheel of the group.

Before dating had become a focus of their lives, we’d been inseparable. I should have known it was inevitable that I’d be the one who didn’t fit in the group anymore. It was gut wrenching how easily David had chosen flirting with someone new over our lifelong friendship. I wondered if he’d ever thought we were family, or if that was just forced on him too.

I mentally slapped myself out of my self-pity and started thinking about the monsters instead. They could have killed us or infected us on the spot. That was unless we were being given to a master, as a gift or maybe food. Hopefully the master was old enough that he couldn’t pretend to be human anymore. I shuddered, and bile rose in my mouth.

The ancient ones; the oldest of the vampires; had thin, papery skin stretched over their skulls and their teeth were so prominent that they appeared lipless. Their eyes burned like coal in braziers and their hair receded to mere tufts at their temples and ears. The illustrations in our textbooks, of the few ancient ones the hunters had been able to capture, were horrific and nightmare inducing. The textbooks said that masters that old were almost impossible to catch or kill; especially since they retreated from humanity.

If the master still needed to eat, where were they getting their food? The thought made me nauseated as I leaned my forehead against the wall to cool off and change my thought process. Hunters and vampires killed each other, but we tried to keep it civilized. We knew the consequences of war for the human world.

If the vampires that took us (if they were vampires and not organ thieves after all) could fly; they had access to hundreds of years of wealth and the toys that came with them. I had done some research on the geography of the California coast and most likely we’d been taken because we were convenient. The pitting I felt in the stone of the walls could be from proximity to the ocean; where salt spray and ocean storms would have broken the stone down faster than in drier locations.

“Becca, Becca, how is Mackenzie doing?” I called out, becoming more alarmed that she still wasn’t awake.

“Her breathing is shallow and uneven. I can touch her face; I even pinched her arm! She didn’t wake up or even make a sound.” That one statement turned my blood to ice in my veins. If they hadn’t bitten us to put us under, then we’d been “glamoured” or charmed to knock us out, which meant that the vampires that took us had gotten inside our heads.

My shields hadn’t been enough to protect me. I wasn’t surprised, but I was still ashamed of my weakness. Perhaps Dominique had been wrong about my ‘raw talent,’ as she’d called it. Maybe I was in a cell about to be drained of my blood by an impossibly terrifying predator; maybe that was just my fate. The vampire that killed my mother and father hadn’t bothered to kill me. Now, my destiny to die as fang-feed had caught up to me.

For a moment, I’d imagined myself as “the girl who lived”. Now, I just felt stupid. My lip slid between my teeth to stop me from biting my fingernails, which would be the next thing in my mouth if I couldn’t come up with some sort of solution. I might not have been much of an expert, but I was the closest thing Becca and the still-unconscious Mackenzie had to a hunter.

“Becca, slap her. Hard,” I ordered. “Hit her as hard as you dare with your open hand. We’re running out of time, and we need her awake.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Really? What chance do we have to get her out of here, if she’s still unconscious?”

“You think beating her up will help us get her out?”

“I think getting her awake gives us a chance to fight together, or at least negotiate for our lives. Right now, she is dead weight we can’t carry and she can’t argue for her freedom if she’s unconscious.” I didn’t think vampires had a parlay system, but I was willing to bet if we were all awake, we’d stay together; whereas if Mackenzie was still asleep, they’d take her first, because she’d be easier for them to feed on.

Distantly, I heard the familiar slap of an open palm against skin, and another, and a third. Becca was screaming at Mackenzie and slapping her again, and again; almost hysterical as she begged her friend to wake.

“Becca, stop!” I shouted down the hall. I repeated myself, and the only sound I heard was her sobbing. “I’m sorry Becca. You tried.” There was a long silence, and I wondered if I’d lost my only friend in the darkness.

“Caroline?” Becca’s hoarse voice sounded like she’d been crying for days.

“I’m here, Becca.”

“She isn’t awake, but she moved. Oh, my God, she moved!” I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I feared. Maybe the vampire that had put her under was awake, which meant it was night, or nearly so. My heart sank! We’d been here at least a full day by then with no hunters showing up to save us. Worse; if the vampires had been sleeping, it wouldn’t be long now before we had company. I’d considered why we were still alive and unmarked, but I hadn’t figured out what came next.

I felt my way back to the side wall using the torch, felt around until I felt the clip that locked it in place and lifted it out of the holder. I sat in a crouch with my back against the far wall and my butt resting on my heels. This way I could spring up and launch the torch at the face of the first blood sucker through the door.

I knew that I couldn’t fight, but maybe I could make them mad enough to kill me fast. I no longer remembered the details of my parents’ deaths; my mind hadn’t wanted to hold most of the images even when I was young. Time had been my sweetest friend and stolen the remaining images from me over the years. However, I would never lose the terror and soul-numbing hate that filled me at the thought of seeing another vampire. I tried to focus on the things Signora Borgia and Professor Eldritch had been teaching my Anthropology and Mythology of Vampires class. Their energy came from living blood, but only the very strongest could stay awake during daylight hours. Their psychic powers were varied; just like humans. There were some who had no mental powers to draw upon, just like some couldn’t fly, and others had every imaginable power.

Obviously, we were dealing with one or maybe several that could get inside our heads and glamour us. Poor Mackenzie was weak-willed enough or had a master vampire strong enough to completely roll her. In the books, people like her were called Renfields, after Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”. These were humans who could no longer think for themselves; sleeping when their master slept and doing their bidding without question.

If we’d been brought here at the same time, then maybe I was strong enough to fight it off for at least a little while. I’d been awake for a long time ; it made sense that we’d been sitting down here all day. My stomach would attest to that; if nothing else. Becca had awaken on her own several hours after me. I was about to call out to her and check in on Mackenzie when I heard a scream from that end of the corridor.

“Becca! Becca answer me!” I screamed into the darkness; pressing my face against the bars desperately wishing I could conjure a light in the darkness. Then, as though I’d created it with my mind, a tiny flare of light floated and bobbed in the far distance. As tiny as it was; it was blinding after the hours of darkness and my eyes burned behind my eyelids as I blinked and squeezed them tightly shut, trying to acclimate to the change.

“Caroline!” Becca screamed, her voice breaking off into a choking sound. The light flickered in the place where I imagined her door would be.

“Becca!” She didn’t answer. I gripped the ancient, iron torch tighter and fell back from the door to the side opposite the hinges. The silence was thick enough to touch as my palms grew wet and slick against the metal . I waited to befall the same fate as Becca and her friend.

The seconds ticked on; my thighs and arms began to cramp from the position I was holding. I strained to stay still and not give away my position, as I realized the light outside my door was growing brighter. I rolled my shoulders and shifted my weight from the balls of one foot to the other; ready to spring. My scant training might be enough despite aching muscles and lack of food to draw blood when I swung.

Chapter 6

There was a scraping sound of metal against metal as a key turned in the door. Then it swung open. In the light was the shadowed face of a beautiful girl, not much older than myself. But, the age that I sensed in my mind was much, much older than she appeared.

“Well, now!” she exclaimed in a sugary voice. “I bet Vittorio didn’t catch that little ability of yours when he grabbed you.” The lit torch moved directly in front of my face, blinding me, and I swung out blindly. “Now, now, little witch. No need for that,” the girl chided in her lilting voice, as she grabbed the iron out of my hand like it was nothing. I heard the clatter as it hit the far wall and clenched my jaw to keep from whimpering. “Now, let’s go get you cleaned up and fed; then you can tell me what other powers you’ve got little witch. I’m always interested in a pretty girl who can feel me inside her.” Despite the youthful sweetness of her voice, I trembled at the threat behind the sexual innuendo.

“Kill me now. I won’t be made into vampire fodder,” I hissed, my voice shaking.

“Oh, you’re a tiny hunter.” My eyes had gotten used to the soft torchlight and I could see her shake her head. “What kind of people are they; sending a tender little thing like you out all by herself? You poor thing. I’ll take care of you.”

“You’ll protect me?” I asked my voice soaked in disbelief.

“Of course. Don’t believe all you hear from one hateful, frightened group of racists, darling. I for one love sweet little morsels like you. I couldn’t bear to let anyone else touch you, except the master.” She held out her hand and I walked hand in hand with her up a long spiraling set of stairs. I then realized she’d glamoured me again! I wrenched my hand away and she laughed in delight, a clear lovely sound that froze me to my very core, paralyzing me with terror.

Her hard, blue eyes held mine as I focused on my psychic shield; straining against her power pressing in on me until she pulled back, a look of genuine surprise on her face. She was silent after my small victory over her. My heart swelled with fierce pride and made me braver as I walked into the unknown behind her.

She left the torch in a sconce on the wall at the top of the stairs and pushed open a wooden door, it was similar to the one that had shut me into my cell, but far larger and heavier. She motioned me through with a bow at the neck and followed close enough behind me that her skirt brushed my legs. Occasionally I caught images from her that chilled me and each time she got me to react she would laugh at me.  She couldn’t really violate me; which made me glad, but seemed to frustrate her.

“You’d be surprised how enjoyable my company can be, little witch,” she huffed, when I balked at a particularly explicit image she was projecting of the two of us.

“You know you and I are almost the same size and height, don’t you?” I replied, refusing to acknowledge what I was starting to believe was her flirting.

“But you have so much more to learn and so much growing to do in here,” she giggled, tugging my head back with one hand and tapping my temple. I fell silent again, hoping she would grow bored and leave me alone again. While we walked I concentrated on my shield until I wasn’t sure if I had finally got it right, or she really had gotten bored and given up. I let the shield drop, and staggered as a picture of her bathed in my blood slammed me against the wall, choking on my own scream.

“Oh, Colette, leave her be! She isn’t for you!  She is for the Master of the City.” She turned to me “Child, you may call me Rachel.” The voice was kinder and older, and hushed me as new power clamped down on my vocal cords. How could I hope to escape, or fight, when these beings had all the power they needed to make me submit to them against my will?

Colette, the vampire who had brought me up from the dungeon, huffed and stormed off to the far end of the room. She started brushing her hair, all the while watching me in the mirror. The older vampire led me to a large copper bath in the middle of the room. It was big enough to hold four of me and was deep and steaming from the hot water under the fragrant bubbles. She took my hand and helped me into the bath, the water and lavender fragrance instantly beginning to unknot my aching muscles.

I watched Rachel as she took away my dirty dress and laid out fresh clothes, presumably for me. The care they were taking with my appearance was confusing. Surely the master vampire I was meant to feed didn’t require his food in the Victorian dress that was laid out in front of me? The grey-haired vampire saw me watching her and smiled gently.

“You are quite safe in here, no matter what Colette said to frighten you,” she sighed. She picked up a thick sea sponge from a cart next to the bath and set it on the water in my lap. “Wash up, the master awakes, and he will have need of you.”

“The Venatores will come for me,” I said it softly, but she stiffened and turned back to face me.

“You are no hunter.” She glanced at Colette over my head and I heard her tinkling laughter like shards of glass in my head. “Colette. Mind yourself. If she’s broken when he gets her, he’ll take it out on you.” She looked into my eyes. “No. You are no hunter. Are you a ward of the society, then?” My face heated and she nodded. “They may very well come for you, but you are not the first ward of the hunters to disappear. They simply make more to replace those they lose, don’t they?”

I ground my teeth together to stop anything worse from escaping my lips. Colette appeared within my view and scooped the sponge up from the water before I could protest. She watched my face while she gently washed me and I stayed frozen, knowing that if I let her see my fear she’d only make it worse. The sponge and her fingers slid wet over my bare back and then she slipped her hand under the water in my lap. I finally hissed and pushed back, hard enough to slide right out of the tub, landing in a crouch on the floor.

“Colette!” The older female spat the word out and Colette backed away, smirking. I stayed in a crouch, dripping on the floor as I backed away from both of them, looking for anything I could turn into a weapon. “Please child, let’s just get you dressed,” Rachel cajoled. Colette advanced, and I sprang at her. My attack surprised her and I landed a palm strike to her chest and a second to her face.  She shrieked and lunged for me, but Rachel held her by the laces of her gown.

“I will kill you, witch,” she hissed.

“No, you won’t. Calm down, both of you.” Rachel scolded us like we were in a schoolyard fight. She shoved Colette back. “Stop teasing Caroline, she’s frightened.” She held out her hand and I took it, not because she invaded me, but because I wanted her to keep protecting me from Colette.

“I just wanted to give her a kiss,” the tiny vampire pouted. My hits had connected as she’d barely blinked.  I shuddered; I had never been given the slightest attention from the males in my life.  Now I was forced to protect my honor from a vampire, just so her master could murder me for food!!

I shuddered at the thought, but I was willing to die a thousand times as food rather than have Colette do what she suggested. Colette stalked toward me as if even thinking her name was a summons.

“I can be a very generous lover, pet,” she spat at me as Rachel laced up the back of my low-cut dress. Rachel made a sound in her throat behind me and Colette stopped advancing.

“Perhaps your time is better served getting yourself ready for the master’s awakening, Colette.” Rachel led me over to a vanity and I sat on the bench seat in front of the mirror. She took my long, thick hair and wound it in an intricate style that piled on top of my head and left my neck and cleavage bare.

In the mirror, a very different me stared back from my reflection. Instead of looking younger; the up-style of my hair and plunging neckline of my bodice made me look older, more worldly and mature. I flushed at how much of me was visible and the pink spread quickly over my face and down to the ruffle that seemed the only thing preventing my breasts from escaping their bindings. A bell tolled in the distance and Rachel took my hand.

“It is time for the master to awake. You and the others will be good offerings.” Others? My heart leapt at the thought that Becca and Mackenzie might still be alive. I let Rachel escort me down another long hall and clung to her for a moment when she stepped aside to let Colette take me through the door. “Don’t worry, little one. She can’t harm you. None of us can. You have been chosen for a most noble sacrifice.” Another bell toll sounded in the distance and Colette took my hand and pressed me against her side, her lips against my ear.

“The master wakes, little witch.” She held my face in her supernaturally strong hand and kissed my mouth, her lips tasting of mint and something metallic. I didn’t fight her as she deepened the kiss. I concentrated all my strength, focus and will into my shield, until she yelped and jerked back. The force of my shield had driven her from me. White-faced, she glanced toward the room on the other side of the ornate door, hesitating. But the bell tolled a third time and the doors slowly opened in front of us.

The sexual sadist, Colette, gingerly placed my hand over her arm and walked me into a huge ballroom with the golden trappings and domed ceiling. I looked up at a mural above the crystal chandeliers, a horrific scene of blood and slaughter. Colette led me to the far end of the room where a coffin stood next to a throne. My heart raced as I stared at the ornate stone in front of me, mesmerized by my terrible fantasies of what lay inside.

Chapter 7

A sound caught my attention. I whipped my head around and saw two other girls being led into the room by other vampires. I recognized Becca; not by any physical features but from the blank, glassy stare of the girl trailing behind her who could barely hold up her own head. “Mackenzie”, I thought to myself. She was a Renfield in truth and my heart ached for the pretty, vacant blonde and her frightened friend.

They were dressed as I was, in dresses that bared enough neck; cleavage and arm to provide multiple places for a vampire to bite. Becca was tall and athletic, but Mackenzie was even shorter and tinier than me . It seemed that our master vampire didn’t have a specific type that interested him as food, but the vampires that took us had their own preferences. I watched the vampire that was leading Becca shoot possessive and territorial looks around the room as he walked her to her place and backed away to join Colette.

I didn’t recognize any vampire power present as the one who took me. I tried to take in as much of the room as possible in the little glances I dared before the casket pulled my eyes back to it. The air in the huge room shifted and the fifty or so vampires that surrounded us stood at attention.

A vampire stepped out onto the dais from behind the throne and my blood curdled. I hadn’t seen his face in the darkness when he took me, but the power that pressed against me like a physical weight was all too familiar. He was dressed like the others, in a cross between high Victorian fashion and an Anne Rice novel.

His boots came above his knees. Tight leather pants that laced up the front were tucked into them. His shirt was blood red and flowing and though it also laced up, it was undone in a deep “V” that showed the stark whiteness of his chest, a white made purer from lack of blood. His long black hair was slicked back and tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck; making it appear from the front; as though it was cut close to the head. His eyes were a blue so pale they looked like small crystals of ice in an otherwise marble face. Looking at him was more terrifying than staring at the coffin, so that was where I focused. I only glanced at him from time to time as he began some sort of ritual.

He raised his hands and the crowd around us began chanting in unison. I took Becca’s hand and focused on my shield, pulling all my reserves and shoving them into that feeling in my head that I was beginning to recognize as my power.

“All praise to the Master of the City; my brother Nicholas; who is risen from his decades of slumber to lead us once more!” Vittorio, the pale vampire raised his voice and the vampires chanted louder with him. My blood froze in my veins at the sound, and I focused on not fainting from fear.

Becca moaned in anguish and I glanced up to see her friend being led by the hand to the dais. He stood her over the closed casket and from it tugged a needle into view. She stared unseeing ahead of her, as her slammed the needle into her arm at the soft spot inside her elbow. I cringed and looked away as the room spun around me. I felt my hand being yanked and my shoulder almost dislocated as the vampire behind Becca moved forward to force her up to the other side of the casket.

I took a step toward her, but Colette grabbed my arm and pulled me back against her, so close that I could feel her heart race. She was afraid and her fear was enough to make me obey her without fighting. The vampire leading Becca stared into her eyes and her next scream died on her lips as her face went slack and the intelligence disappeared from her eyes.

A second needle was produced and both girls were drained, right in front of me. I dug my fingernails into my palms in disgust and shame. I’d been unable to save myself let alone the others kidnapped with me. They stayed standing long after I thought they would; swaying on their feet as the ruby liquid flowed from them into the casket.

As the two escorts finally picked up their charges and carried them out of sight; they were replaced by two more male vampires. They strained to lift the heavy stone lid and set it on the floor at the head of the coffin. They reached their hands in and I pressed harder against Colette. She didn’t make any wisecracks and I was grateful. I wished for the magic ability to make myself invisible and slide right through her and the wall at her back. I held my breath as they lifted their master from his bed and it escaped in a loud whoosh as he turned and faced the room.

The sheer power that flowed out through the room nearly bowled me over as it slammed into my chest and pushed through me. Colette held me upright and when his gaze turned to us, she put my hand over her arm and led me up the steps to face him. The vampire that had first captured me hissed slightly and Colette glared at him before stepping between us. I felt the animosity between them, but I had eyes only for the master. Instead of a gnarled, ugly creature; I was staring at possibly the most handsome creature I had ever seen. His eyes were dark and green, like emeralds over onyx and were deep set under heavy eyebrows. He was too rugged to be pretty, but his full lips, deep red from the blood that had just infused his body, softened the edges of the angles of his face. All the same, his power rang out in my head like a deep, clear bell. He was older than I had the ability to even guess.

The only visible physical imperfection was a long, ragged scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, down his cheek to his jaw. It was angry and red, but instead of ruining his face it managed to make him more handsome.

“Oh, shit. He’s in my head,” I thought to myself. Instantly, I felt two reactions. Colette, who I recognized, replied with something akin to “No kidding, stupid,” while a second reaction of silent amusement merely tested my wall, gently prodding it while never taking his eyes from me. Angry and scared, I slapped at him. His eyes widened a split second before his power rammed through me like a Mac truck. I flew backward and landed hard on the stone floor, too stunned to even hit with my hands first. My head slammed against the floor right after my shoulders and the earth shook.

Hands lifted me up; I kept my eyes closed as much from the pain as from the fear of what was holding me. I trembled and a flicker of annoyance passed through him, as I felt him force his way into my thoughts again. I knew the master had me pinned against him, his mouth hovering over my throat. My walls had crumbled, and in that final agonizing moment to at least die as me; instead of a mindless zombie; I repeated the Latin spell I had memorized from Dominique’s book aloud. It was the one she had begun to teach in class to chase intruders from our psyches.

It didn’t force him out, but he paused and instead of pushing harder, he picked me up and cradled me in his arms. I risked opening my eyes and once the stars cleared I was looking up at a face that was still impossibly beautiful. I was so attracted to him but it wasn’t glamor, at least not consciously. “Oh God,” I thought to myself. “David’s ability to draw women is a psychic gift.” The thought made me groan aloud and the master vampire looked down at me in alarm. I closed my eyes and made myself as small as I could wishing that he’d forget me.

“Not likely, little one. You are far too sweet for me to simply forget I have you in my arms,” he chuckled, his voice deep and thick as taffy. I stiffened and he laughed again. It was a masculine chuckle that sounded very much alive and stirred things I would never have expected deep in my stomach. My pulse fluttered and I felt a masculine sense of triumph in him.

He set me down in a chair by a fire, in a bedroom of sorts. There were books all around me, stacked on the floor; the tables, and on shelves that lined almost every wall. The large, four-poster bed that stood to one side was bigger than any king sized I’d ever seen. The room itself was richly decorated, with heavy red drapes covering the windows. The tapestries hanging on the walls depicted hunting scenes with hounds and men on horses chasing a fox through the woods and over pastures.

I was so taken with the room, I forgot to be afraid of the master himself and smiled as I pulled a small hill of books into my lap and held them like baby birds, cradled in my hands.

“Are these all yours?” I gasped.

“One does tend to gather things, when one lives long enough,” he drawled. I gaped at him, astonished at how quickly I’d forgotten he was the big bad wolf I feared. His glamour was powerful, but impossible to detect if I wasn’t concentrating on it.  My heart thudded in my chest. He held up a hand to dismiss my thoughts. “I’m not going to harm you. Despite whatever you may have heard or been taught, we are not animals.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure that some of you are.” I pictured the photo I kept by my bed, of my mother and father.

“Just as you have monsters among you, so do we.” He held out a hand, and though I tried to fight it, my hand slid into his. I was surprised to find it warm and strong, and too pleasant to admit to myself. He released my hand abruptly as Rachel appeared with a tray in her hands. I smelled Lady Grey tea as she set a filigreed cup next to my elbow and another by the master’s.

“You and your kind are sharks. You exist only to prey on humans. Just because you are beautiful, doesn’t mean you’re good,” I argued, but my voice sounded unsure and weak.

“Watch your tongue,” warned Rachel sharply. The master raised his hand and she bit off her next words. At his dismissal, she left us alone again.

“Who are you?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice cool and sure, despite the turmoil in my gut and the ringing in my head from the blow it had taken.

“Ah, Miss Caroline,” he replied. I nodded and lifted the teacup he pushed toward me. “I am Nicholas. I am most pleased to make the acquaintance of a young Venatores with such distinguishing power,” he added. “Dominique has taught you well, but you are so very young.” His voice trailed off as he watched me flinch in surprise before I could school my expression blank. “Oh, yes, the Borgia family and I go back beyond ages.”

“You read my mind,” I said accusingly. He nodded. His face was inscrutable and it made me more anxious than if I knew what he felt. If he felt anything at all. “Are you going to drain me?” I couldn’t stop the words from flowing out of my mouth, even as I saw the flicker of irritation in his face.

“Perhaps.” I gulped hard. I needed to keep him wanting me alive more than dead.

“Lady Borgia is one of our greatest sorceresses, but she is very mysterious. If you were from a family that had been assassins for a thousand years, you would be mysterious too,” he retorted, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement.

I gasped. I had heard rumors, but that they were true was thrilling. I suddenly had more questions than I thought anyone but Dominique herself could answer.

“How, do you know Lady Borgia?”

“Even in the beginning, the Borgias were wealthy aristocrats and patrons of the arts. They were also always aware that another world thrived beneath the cover of darkness. Our relationship was mutually beneficial.” I cringed. The master vampire was friends with the sorceress who was training me to kill vampires, had possibly killed for her own family.

“Kill me, or let me go,” I demanded. I couldn’t believe the Venatores capable of working with vampires. I refused to listen to a master vampire’s lies.

“You don’t get to make demands,” he snarled. “I will keep you as I wish, let you live, or let you die. For now, you’re interesting to me. Do not assume that we kill as easily as your beloved hunters. The Venatores are far more bloodthirsty than we have ever been, yet your tiny sect still exists, does it not?”

“You’re saying you could kill us all, if you wished?”

“We obey the laws our elders and the Venatores set before us. But, yes, if it came to war, there would be no Venatores Lamiae left.”

“You work with the hunters?”

He smiled at me, a predatory grin that made my pulse race and my mouth dry. “Those I find intriguing,” he replied, glancing down at the pulse fluttering in my throat. “You, my dear naïve little Caroline, are most intriguing.”

I looked away and stared into the fire as it danced and blazed, warming my face. Slowly it dawned on me that the fire and the tea were for my benefit. A master vampire wouldn’t have need of a flame. The room, the fire, it was mine, not his; I wasn’t going to die. Not tonight, anyway. I sipped my tea and thought. If I wasn’t dead yet, I just had to live until sunrise.

I hummed over my teacup and built up my shield around me, one thought as a time. I had no intention of dying; I had to make it back to the Venatores. I had no idea which way was up anymore, but I did know that I had questions, and they were going to give me answers.

I glanced over at the master vampire but his seat was empty. I was chilled; his power to cloud my mind was so expert that he had left without me noticing. My bravado fled and I shivered despite the roaring fire in front of me. I was alive, but all I had was questions and the stark terror of my reality. I was trapped and if he was telling me the truth, it was possible no one cared that I’d been taken.

Chapter 8

I couldn’t begin to imagine going to sleep; even when I tried the door and the windows they were locked tight. I hadn’t expected any less, but it was still disheartening to feel so helpless and alone.

I had been spoon fed hatred of vampires all my life. Now I had more questions about the Venatores Lamiae than I did about vampires. In fact, I had one question about vampires. How the hell did I get away from them and back home?

I missed David. The sting of his callous behavior had dulled in the face of what I was sure was my inevitable death by draining. My mind reached out for him. I’d never been away from him in my whole life since my parents died. He would never be my boyfriend. But, he was still my best friend.

Now, I was in the most terrifying of strange places, and David was a comforting weight in my mind. It was almost like he wasn’t as far away as I feared. I reached out, but while I felt him, he wasn’t close enough to respond, or maybe he didn’t want to. I tried to do the same with Clayton, but we’d never been as close, and I couldn’t feel him at all.

Feeling David meant that my mind wasn’t invaded or under the effects of glamour. I ran to a window and threw back the curtains, expecting to see daylight, but there was complete black behind the glass. Frustrated, I examined it more closely, bringing the candelabra from the table closer to see better. The candles appeared in mirror image in the glass, aside my pale, frightened face and wide eyes. There was no view to the outside: only more stone, or dirt. Something kept the window from ever encountering the sunlight. I checked the remaining three windows and they were all the same. I slammed down the candle holder and screamed my frustration.

Despair overtook me easily as I sat in the corner of the room; my back to the wall. I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked; my mind refusing to accept any coherent thought that could help me out of my opulent prison. I thought of Domonique and the hunters. My questions required that I live to receive answers.

I breathed in and counted to eight as I exhaled, like I had learned to do to control my anxiety. As I worked on my breathing, I realized I hadn’t thought of anxiety or depression since I’d been taken. Apparently fight or flight responses trumped garden-variety issues. Either that or the master’s glamour was affecting my unconscious responses.

With that thought in mind, I practiced my mental shield, putting up and removing the wall repeatedly until I could do it without focusing on each individual part. I wished that I had Dominique’s book with me so I could practice spells. I hadn’t read the whole thing. It was possible a spell that could immobilize vampires was sitting in my carry-on in my hotel room while I was wondering how many hours of life I had left.

I reached out with my mind, sending tendrils of thought through the stone and spreading them like fingers down the corridors, trying to sense vampires. As I searched, my brain kept going back to David. My fledgling talent honed in on him instead of vampires, snapping together as one bolt of psychic energy. The energy poured into another room in the ancient building. He was closer than I could’ve imagined and I could feel his terrible pain even though he wasn’t conscious or responding to me.

The scream that tore out of my throat was like the shriek of a wounded animal. I was pulled inside him, and wasn’t strong or in control enough to get out. I was caged, feeling every laceration and broken bone like they were my own.

My wails continued after Rachel rushed into the room and I was aware of being moved as she carried me to the bed. Suddenly, the pain started to go away, until it disappeared completely. Shaking and covered in frigid sweat, I opened my eyes to see dark green eyes fringed in impossibly black lashes, staring back at me.

“You’re in shock,” the master said softly, laying a heavy blanket over me and tucking it under me so I was pinned to the bed. “Can you speak?” I cleared my throat, raw and swollen from my screams.

“I don’t know what happened,” I whimpered, my voice full of gravel from pain and emotion. He pressed his hand against my forehead and I glanced over at Rachel. It surprised me that her face was pinched with worry.

“What were you doing before you were attacked?” I stiffened at the question. “Nothing you say will bring you harm.”

“I was trying to control my fear and use Lady Borgia’s training,” I whispered, pausing as a harsh cough tore at my throat and lungs. “ I don’t have her notes anymore, so I could only practice what I have memorized.” My breathing was steadier now and I noticed that the tight covers had warmed me quickly and slowed my shaking. I tried to sit up and after a moment’s hesitation, the master sat back enough so that I could pull myself up against the pillows.

“Then what happened, tiny hunter?” he coaxed. His voice was gentle, but his smirk made it more teasing, less compassionate.

“I tried exploring. I was thinking about my friend and suddenly I could feel him and everything in me aimed straight toward him. I felt like I was trapped inside his broken body which was stabbed and chained. It was the worst pain I could’ve imagined and then some. I was helpless.” He glanced at Rachel, who shrugged and shook her head.

“Rest. I will be back soon.” Nicholas stood up and strode toward the door. I felt the emptiness in the depression he’d left on the bed. The feeling of loss was crushing and I erected my psychic shield to protect me from the love-glamour that surrounded him like an aura.

I’d begun to believe his glamour was unintentional and maybe automatic, but that made it no less compelling. My top priority in getting out of here alive had to be becoming strong enough to resist that pull.

Chapter 9

“Where did the master, Nicholas, go?” I asked Rachel. She shot me a sideways look and continued stoking the fire. “I’m afraid Rachel. Please help me. The pain was so real. How is that possible?” She made a sound of disgust and pointed at the chair in front of the slowly growing flames. I slunk over to the chair, watching for her to attack, but she went back to ignoring me until I was seated. Another blanket; lighter than the last; was flung over me and tucked in at my sides, covering me to my waist but leaving everything above it free to move.

“Of course it felt real, you little idiot,” she sighed. “What on earth are those Venatores teaching you young ones these days?”

I stammered and coughed. I had never heard anyone speak of the society of hunters except in reverence. Hearing her sound frustrated made her seem more human than monster. I didn’t know how to feel about my sworn enemies acting almost like regular people.

“Nothing, yet. I’m just a student, I haven’t graduated to an apprenticeship yet.” She made another sound of exasperation and set a teacup down hard enough that hot tea splashed into the saucer.

“What you were describing was astral projection, my dear. Most humans don’t have a talent like that, even psychics. Most vampires don’t either. If it was a lie to distract the master, you will suffer for it.” She sighed and fluffed pillows, glaring at them like their lack of bouncy fullness was a personal affront.

“You don’t think I was lying!” I argued. My body was warm and comforted by the fire and the tea, but inside me, there was a core of cold iron that fought against the creature comforts.

“You went into shock. I haven’t been on this side of the veil so long that I don’t remember what that means to a person.”  I chewed my lip as I watched her tidy the piles around me, as if she was burning off nervous energy.

“Why don’t you hate me?” I blurted.

“You aren’t my enemy. I would no more hate you than a helpless piglet in a pen,” she scoffed.

“Does the master see me as food?” I pressed. The idea that I was livestock made my stomach churn unpleasantly around the tea.

“Blood is our food. Not people. Unlike most of you humans, the greater majority of us don’t kill to eat. Now. No more questions. Just, sit quietly and wait until the master returns.” Rachel returned to tidying without talking to me.

“Please, sit with me?” I asked. My brain was screaming at me to stay away from her; fight her and protect myself. But her actions and those of the master made me question my own hatred.

The Venatores had secrets; that much I understood. But the ease with which the master had spoken of them; of the laws they shared; seemed an unlikely lie. Besides, lying to me seemed like a waste of time. Rachel sat in the chair next to me. Her body was so still, it was impossible to mistake her for a human. There was a quality to the stillness that made my heart pound and my lungs seize and I fought to control my reaction.

“Why are you suddenly so afraid?” she asked. Her voice was normal, without power or glamour in it.

“You seem so, human, I forgot to be afraid of you, and that scared me more than I was before.” Rachel laughed, an unexpected coarse, raucous sound that startled me almost out of my chair.

“Who told you to be afraid of me?” she asked, her voice condescending.

“I don’t know, aren’t most humans afraid of the undead? Even the ones who don’t know vampires really exist?”

She stared into my eyes long enough that my bravado failed me, and I was the first to look away. When I glanced back at her, she was looking away, as though listening to something in the distance. When she saw me watching, she smiled at me gently.

“The master returns shortly,” she reported and I tried to ignore the bump in my pulse. “Would you like me to tell you how I came to be here like this while we wait on him?” I nodded and she continued. “I am young for a vampire, though I was older when I was turned,” she began, cupping her cheek in her hand. “That’s why I look older than the master,” she sighed. “I was hit by a drunk driver while walking home with my sister,” she said. I swallowed hard and my bottom lip tucked between my teeth as I listened.

“What happened?” I asked when she didn’t continue. Her face was sad, almost teary. It struck me that she chose to exhibit her feelings even though she didn’t have to. She obviously liked her humanity.

“My sister died instantly, but I didn’t know that at the time,” she replied. My chest tightened for her and I shifted to see her better while she spoke. “I was bleeding, holding her hand, when the most handsome man approached. He bent over my sister first; then touched my wounds and felt my heartbeat.”

“The master?” I asked. She nodded.

“He leaned in and whispered to me, saying that I didn’t have to die. That he could save me, if I wished. I thought he meant both of us and I agreed readily.”

“And when you awoke?” I asked.

“I was starving. If I had happened upon a human being, I would have torn them to shreds like a rabid bear.” I shuddered, thinking about my own family.

“Did you?” my voice betrayed emotion where I meant to hide it.

“No. I had Nicholas to teach me. I was the last he turned before it was his time to sleep.”

“How long ago was that?”

“The masters sleep every five hundred years, for fifty. They take their strength from their coven and their hibernation slows the decay of their bodies.”

“How many times has he done this?” I gasped, leaning toward her.

“You witnessed his third awakening.” I fell back into my chair. For fifteen hundred years, he’d been a vampire; the living dead.

“That doesn’t give me a reason not to fear you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind you fearing us. You are weak and ignorant. But the master is not a monster and we are quite civilized, once you know our ways.”

“But, your kind murder people for food.”

“Oh, do we? And how would you know that?”

“Rachel.” The voice was low and stern. Rachel blinked slowly, then stood.

“Master.”

“Tend to Colette. She is injured. And treat the boy. He needs to be ready to be sent back to his people.” My pulse skyrocketed.

“Wait, the boy? David? Is he here? I need to see him.” I was out of my chair and at the door faster than even I thought possible. Nicholas apparently agreed, as he lunged after me and threw me back on the bed with a hiss.

“Kill me, or let me go to him. I won’t stop trying to reach him.” I slid off the bed onto my feet and braced for a blow from his raised hand.

“Damnit, girl.” He nodded to Rachel, who bowed and left the room without a sound. “He is in no shape for company right now. You will see him when Rachel has had time to see to his wounds.”

“Oh, my God. How badly is he wounded?” Tears stung my eyelids.

“Badly enough that I would advise against another round of astral projection into his body.” Nicholas turned to go without another word.

“How long am I to be alone in here? What are you going to do to me?” I called out to his retreating back. His shoulders slumped in a very human gesture as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“I have to deal with some coven business. I will return shortly. If you haven’t used the bath in the adjoining room, do so, and be ready to eat when I return.”

He slipped out the door and I heard the sharp click of the key in the lock before I was once again alone in silence. As I expected ; when I halfheartedly tried the door ; it was shut tight. I heard running water from the other room and entered to find more of the lush bath towels Rachel had used on me when she had dressed me for the awakening.

I dragged a chair to the door and shoved it under the latch, to hold the door shut. I knew it wouldn’t stop a vampire; but at least it would make enough noise that I wouldn’t be surprised. Wishing I’d thought of it sooner, I slipped into the en-suite and did the same with the door that lead from the bedroom to the corridor.

David had been taken too. My heart broke for his pain, possibly even caused by an attempt to save me. I shut off the water wondering how an old stone building not only had running water, but heated water too. “Vampires bathe too, I guess,” I thought to myself as I added a handful of the fragrant soap flakes Rachel had used before. After one last check of both doors I finally undressed.

The hot water soothed my aching muscles and started to finally warm the icy center of me. That’s where my contact with David had made me feel almost hypothermic from the sudden agony of his wounds; both physical and psychological. Part of me prayed that David had simply been caught away from the crowds of the resort and that I had no responsibility for the state he was in. But there was that selfish core of me that hoped he’d fought to get to me and been taken as a result.

“And you say we’re monsters?” A sly voice scoffed from the corner of the room. I gasped and splashed as I tried to see Colette, glancing all around me for something I could use as a weapon. “Oh, I’m not going to hurt you, but only because the master forbids it. You stole my new toy, Caroline. I’m very cross with you.”

Past the pounding of my heart, I realized her voice was in my head, not in the room with me. Strangely, knowing she wasn’t physically in the room while I was naked was more comforting than worrisome. She was nuts, and too powerful to keep out of my head. Better that though than have her hands on me again. Even so, I finished my bath quickly and when I heard the chair fall away from the bedroom door with a rather satisfying crash; I was already dried and dressing.

“Really, Caroline. Must you?” Rachel’s exasperated voice floated in from the bedroom. Despite myself, I giggled, pulling the dress up over my shoulders

“Sorry, Rachel. But with Colette in my head the way she was, I wasn’t taking any chances with being caught off guard.”

Rachel peeked into the bathroom and motioned for me to turn around so she could tighten the laces at the back.

“She had David. She was the one torturing him.” My voice cracked and my hands fisted at my sides. For a split-second I hoped Colette could hear my thoughts and see the death I had in mind for her for beating and bleeding David.

“It appears that way. That lost soul was physically and emotionally tortured by her own father. The vampire that changed her did so to make her harder to kill, so she could survive worse. He then violated her in every way imaginable and more frequently than he could were she human. She healed every physical injury he gave her. But, her sanity was hanging by a thin thread. The horrors he visited upon her, physically and sexually, caused irreparable emotional damage.”

“So, Nicholas wasn’t her maker. Can he stop her?” Rachel sat me at the vanity so she could squeeze more water out of my hair and brush it.

“Colette has sworn a blood oath of fealty to Nicholas. He loves her like a cherished sister and she loves him. She could no more hurt you, than hurt Nicholas himself, unless he wishes it.” She sighed and placed her hands on my shoulders. “But, you must focus on your safety. Obey the master with no more demands. He’s patient, but only so far.” I clenched my hands in small, white fists in my lap, but said nothing.

I looked up at her. Her face never changed from the pleasant blank she’d perfected as a serving woman to her master, perhaps even before. But her hands stayed busy, even when they accomplished nothing.

Perhaps the master would be pleased enough to let us go, if I was obedient like Rachel had warned. I stood and twirled in the center of the stone floor, the voluminous skirt of my Victorian dress billowing out around me. It was beautiful and despite everything that had happened, I felt a tiny spark of satisfaction in my appearance.

I started searching the bookshelves and piles of books for something to teach me what the school had failed to. I needed to learn about my captors. When I reached the fireplace and the ancient, leather-bound books stacked next to and between the chairs, I had a small mountain stacked in my arms.

I created a new pile next to the chair by the fire and moved the stacks that were there already back towards the bookshelves. I had almost finished setting myself up my reading pile, when I noticed a folded leather envelope, tied with a cord.

I unwrapped the leather and laid it flat, whistling under my breath at the yellowed parchment inside. The handwriting was eerily familiar and very quickly I could see that I was looking at the same spells Dominique had given me. My heart lurched as I tried to wrap my head around how old Dominique really was.

I reread the spells that were still legible, but the ink on the others had faded past the point of usefulness. Those I set aside. If Nicholas had kept notes from his friend for so many hundreds of years, perhaps he had read and memorized them.

I arranged my dress as comfortably as I could and sat to read while I waited for some news of David or the other girls who were taken. The old spells and psychic practices were a comfort to read; but made me think about the parallels between my life and the lives in which my captors lived. They were the ‘big bad’; the monster in the closet; the ultimate evil in the world. But now, more and more, it seemed that they were very much like the hunters.

Poor Rachel seemed like a nice person who had kept her humanity locked somewhere inside her. Even Colette was not just some empty predator. She had a history; a dark and tortured past that made her into the person she was. Nicholas was well over a thousand years old, and so powerful that none of his coven questioned him or how he dealt with them. The civility that I had been treated with was a jarring contradiction to the way I had been taken and what had been done to David.

The contradictions weren’t helping my crisis of faith. In my heart; I knew the vampires weren’t the scourge I’d been taught; or at least that’s not all they were. Maybe the hunters weren’t as pure as I’d thought, either.

I set aside the sheaf of papers and paced the room; thinking; until Rachel informed me that I had been summoned to dine with the master. My mind immediately filled with images of poor defenseless people stretched across banquet tables like so much meat and I shuddered. She stepped forward as I hesitated and held out a hand.

“He’s done nothing to bring you harm, Caroline. Don’t let your prejudices put you on the wrong side of his temper and your time here will be pleasant.” Her phrasing, “your time here” gave me the small hope that David and I could still leave here together.

I nodded and followed her out the door, congratulating myself on my bravery as bloody imaginings filled my head with every step.

Chapter 10

The banquet hall was empty but for a long table surrounding by high-back, velvet cushioned chairs. At one end there were candles and place settings for two. Vampires in the white uniforms of servants followed me in; placing fragrant platters of chicken and baked bread on the table before exiting silently. My mouth watered at the sight and smell of the feast in front of me.

My pulsed jumped at the realization that I was to be alone with the master. But at the same time I was relieved that not only was I not going to be on the menu; I wouldn’t be forced to watch the monsters feed. Rachel pulled back my chair and briefly touched my shoulder, then left me alone. The candles guttered and chills went down my spine as I tried to see into the shadows just beyond their light.

I was feeling the effects of a full day without sleep and reached for the glass in front of me; hoping to feel more refreshed with some water. It was a shock when the fruity tang of wine hit my lips instead and I choked a little on the liquid as it went down my throat.

“Miss Caroline. I hope you have found the accommodations to your liking, despite your earlier mishap.” Nicholas’ voice was suddenly at my shoulder and I gasped and froze. If it was possible, he was taller and more imposing by the candlelight of the banquet hall than he had been when first awakened. Pride; more than bravery, guided my nod of response. Watching him was like seeing a big cat at the zoo and realizing the glass between you had disappeared. I stayed very still; watchful and quiet. He stared back at me with eyes that appeared black and bottomless in the flickering light and my pulse sped further.

“Don’t you approve of the accommodations?” he asked. His face was unreadable, but his voice held amusement.

“I would feel better about it if I hadn’t just found out my fellow hunter was bleeding and broken. Is he going to be okay?” Nicholas sighed.

“He is in pain, but he will live.”

“I have to see him for myself. I’m sure you understand.”

“You’re very demanding for one in your position,” he growled. His voice was low and calm, but the undercurrent of anger raised the hair on my neck.

“Please, I apologize for offending you and you have provided me with everything I have needed since I was ta— since I arrived. But even you were worried when you saw me in that kind of pain. I can’t pretend I’m a guest at a party after that,” I pleaded with him.

“I understand that you will not be able to enjoy a meal until you have made certain we did not kill him,” he sighed again. “Eat what you can stomach, to regain your strength and I will show you the darker delights of my kingdom, if you have the stomach for it.” The look in his eyes when he said “delights”, made my stomach quake. Still, I forced a few forkfuls of food down, trying not to look like a cow with him watching me.

He stood and offered me his hand when he was satisfied. I’d had enough, and he led me through the kitchen down stairs to part of the building that reminded me of my first prison cell.

“Why was David here?” I asked, after a minute of

uncomfortable silence. Being quiet with Nicholas was not like the quiet between two humans. When he was quiet, there was nothing to indicate he was there. No footsteps or breathing. Even his clothes moved silently as he walked and the silence filled me with dread.

“Vampires who begin as humans keep all their predilections of their former life. Just as the two females who awakened me are likely to remain a couple; vampires usually have a strong opinion of which gender they prefer to feed from.”

“So David was brought to be food for someone other than you?”

“He was chosen, along with other males and females to be here for anyone who needed them. What happened to him was unfortunate. The rest of the donors have already been returned to their homes, with no recollection of what happened to them.”

“And the other two girls from your awakening?”

“To awaken me, we needed to drain them to the point of death. It’s an honor to be chosen to be the first new children of a master when he wakes. It takes a trusted lieutenant to make the choice. A matter I left to my brother, Vittorio, whom you have met.” I shuddered inwardly and hoped he didn’t notice. Vittorio had taken me. “Introduction” was too kind a word to use for kidnapping.

“So, I’m alive because I didn’t make the cut?” I scoffed, but inwardly felt torn between relief and being offended. I had no desire to be a vampire. But the attention Nicholas had given me made me feel more important than I ever had.

  “You would have fed me, if I wished it,” he replied. “I wanted to learn from you.” My feet stopped moving and I stared up at him, wishing I could read his thoughts as he so freely did mine. I didn’t understand what I saw in his eyes; but my heart fluttered in my chest and for a moment it was hard to breathe.

“What could I possibly teach you?” I asked, hoping the dark hid the hot blush I felt in my cheeks. He laughed gently and tugged me into motion again, placing his hand over mine on his arm.

“I have been asleep for fifty years, seeing only what my coven saw in the night. When I entered your mind, I learned about what has changed in the daylight. How people have changed, social orders, fads, and technology. But, I desire to hear you talk about it all.”

“You care about technology?” I asked, incredulous.

“Why does that surprise you so much? What else does an immortal creature have to keep them from going mad, but curiosity about the evolution of the world around them?”

I nodded, thinking ahead, at the end of whatever he thought I could show him.

“Will I get to go home?” I bit my lip and looked straight ahead at the stairs ahead. I balked at descending them, even though it was a wider and less daunting staircase than the one I had ascended from in my first prison cell here.

“That is not for you to worry about yet. I expect you to be more compliant after you are assured of your friend’s prognosis.”

I glanced sideways up at him; his dark hair curling on the high collar of his shirt, an emerald green silk that matched his eyes. I was heading toward David; the boy whom I had spent most of my life half in love with. Now I couldn’t stop being distracted by this man who was so self-assured and powerful. He had nothing to prove to anyone and it was my company he wanted.

He stopped before a door guarded by one of the male vampires who had opened Nicholas’ coffin at the awakening. He too bowed and backed away. My pulse thumped as Nicholas opened the door and motioned me through.

At first I stayed close to the wall, searching the room visually and with my mind for any other vampires. All I found was a bed at the end of the room and in it; my friend; his skin as pale as the sheets under him with blooms of black and purple bruises on his face and arms. I was sure if I lifted the light coverlet that lay over him, I would find more of the same down his abdomen and legs.

The swelling in his face forced one eye shut, but he glared at me from the other until I came closer and he recognized me. His eye went wide with fear and something else I couldn’t identify.

“David, what did they do to you?” I rushed to his side, unable to hold back the tears that flooded down my cheeks. I was trembling as I touched his shoulders as gently as I could. “I tried to find an escape and instead I found you.” He closed his eye and I sat back and sobbed into my hands. “I felt your wounds,” I confessed, tears sliding down my cheeks. “I felt your pain and it was the worst thing I have ever endured.”

I felt his bandaged hand over my own, and wiped my eyes on my sleeve so I could see him properly. He tugged at my hand, moving his lips like he was talking. I leaned in, placing my ear next to his mouth.

“You’re warm.” I sniffed and chuckled.

“I’m still me.” I felt his body relax next to me on the bed. “The vampire that did this to you. She terrifies me.” His head shook slightly, and his mouth and throat worked as he tried to swallow. A glass of water appeared at my hand and I held it to David’s lips, letting him draw in small sips until he nodded and pulled away.

“There was a girl. But she didn’t do this.” He held up his bandaged hands. “I remember her. She said her name was Colette. She was on a path that led to the beach.” He closed his eye, his breathing shallow. “Clayton. He was right behind me, I don’t know if he’s alive.” He sniffed, and I wiped his nose with a corner of the bedsheet. “She fed on me. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced; like sex but better,” David told me, his voice raspy. I scoffed.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” He managed a weak smile through his cracked, dry lips. “Of course. Of all the people who have been taken, you were too special to be food.”

“Don’t. Not now. I have no idea what will happen to me. “I ignored the leaden fear in the pit of my stomach. “Did you tell them you were a hunter in training?” He frowned.

“I don’t remember what I said at first. I invoked the Venatores when the male took me and bound me. It was like I was drugged, too high to argue or fight back.”

“There were two vampires?” I asked, confused.

“In the beginning, there was just the girl. Then the male came and he bound me. They fought and he took me and beat me up. I didn’t see the girl again until just before he came.” David pointed at Nicholas. “There are at least twenty of them, Caroline. We’re going to die here.”

“Hey, now. This is the master, Nicholas. He promised to get you back to the school as soon as you were well enough. Can you sit up?” He let me assist him into a half-upright position against the pillows. Nicholas stepped forward and bowed at the neck at David.

“I will leave you to your reunion. Caroline, when you’re finished, come to me. Your friend needs time alone to rest; he’ll be safe here.” I nodded and watched him go, wishing I’d thanked him for saving David and letting me see him.

“What about you?” David asked as I watched Nicholas leave. I slowly turned back to him, a strange feeling in my stomach.

“I will do my part and hope I get to leave too.” I gave him a weak smile.

“You really felt my pain.” I nodded. “I felt you too. I thought it was the vampire; until I heard the scream and realized it wasn’t me. Then I didn’t know what to think.” He stroked my finger. “I should never have left you alone.”

“But you did! And then you didn’t try to find me after a pretty girl caught your eye,” I said, my voice empty of emotion. “I thought you were my only true friend. I would have done anything for you.” He closed his eye; his breathing shallow again. I took a deep breath. He’d hurt me, but that was no excuse for attacking him now while he lay there in pain. “David; I will do everything I can to get you home safely. Can I count on you to at least tell them I’m still here?” My voice broke and I breathed out a shaky sigh.

“We’ll come back for you,” he promised. I nodded, but my heart sank. I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t count on him to keep me safe; not anymore.

“If you don’t, then I’ll find a way on my own.” I could see that he knew I had lost faith in him and anger flashed in his good eye.

“Hey, I’m in here, because of you. Why are you angry?” He blurted. I stood, shaken by his accusation.

“No. You’re here because you thought with the wrong body part. I would never have gone off in the darkness alone. If you’d bothered to go to my room, you would’ve known something was wrong.” I backed away another step, painful realization dawning in me. “I don’t belong to you anymore, David. I love you and it’s killing me to see you hurt. But I’m done lying to myself; that you still care about me.” I turned and ran headlong into Rachel. She held me upright and led me away from the bed.

“Caroline, the master still waits on you for supper.” She stroked my hair and held me tight for a moment. She whispered in my ear: “The first heartbreak is always the worst. Come child, your new master awaits.”

“Oh, Rachel, I can’t. I can’t go to supper with him and share polite conversation while David lies in that bed.” She held the door and I led the way through, shivering at the sheer quantity of vampire energy that hit me when I walked out into the inhabited hallway. They seemed to ignore me as they went about their business, but I felt each one in my head like notes in a melody and I knew that they were forever etched on my memory.

“It doesn’t serve you to anger him, Caroline,” she warned me. I nodded.

“I know. But, I’ll take my chances. Please take me to my room.”

Chapter 11

When I felt the hot angry wind blast through the bedroom door throwing away the chair I’d put under the latch across the room; I had a split second to regret not listening to Rachel. Then I felt icy fingers around my throat and stars began to dance in front of my eyes. As I was strangled to near unconsciousness I felt another long-fingered hand slide down the front of me, slipping beneath my neckline and cupping my small breast in a bloodless hand.

The familiar, terrifying power of Vittorio; the vampire that had taken me, along with a new fear bloomed in my heart. I would have preferred an eternity of torture at the hands of Nicholas, than one moment enduring the touch of the monster that held me. I grabbed at his hands, as frantic to get him out of my bodice as I was to stay conscious. I tried, but couldn’t scream, and the only sound that emerged from me was a gurgling, bubbling whisper.

Just as the darkness began to seep in from the edges of my mind; I managed to reach out for Rachel, the only vampire I thought might come to my aid. For just a moment; his hand slipped and I caught a ragged, gasping breath.

“Don’t bother calling for help. No one can hear you,” he whispered to me, clenching his hands tighter. I went limp and he released my throat and stood in front of me, staring down at me as I coughed and shook from fear. I was in trouble, but I was still conscious. It was a win for me and I searched the room for ways to exploit it. Near the fireplace were iron tools, but they were out of reach.

He grabbed the bodice of my gown and pulled me to a standing position. “I hate my brother’s Victorian sensibilities, quite frankly. But I do appreciate the ease of undressing a whore in a dress.” He pointed one clawed finger and sliced through the fabric, and I felt a swift burning pain followed by wetness; I knew he’d drawn blood.

“Someone will stop you,” I spat, shoving as hard as I could and rearing back to kick him in the knee as he held me inches above the floor. He slammed me up against the wall next to the fireplace. I kicked out wildly and spilled the set of tools, hoping they were close enough to grab if he dropped me. With one long arm, he grabbed the poker from the tools I’d scattered to the floor with my struggling and jammed it under the burning logs.

“Maybe, but not before I’ve had my fun,” he hissed, spittle flying into my face. “Do you really believe my brother would choose you over me?” He yanked on my dress and it tore like paper, falling away from my chest and stomach while the remainder hung off my back by my sleeves. “Ask Colette, if she can speak when she’s released from her coffin in a hundred years or so.” His mouth was on my neck as his hands wandered over me and I felt the prick of his fangs breaking the skin, forcing a shriek of sheer terror from me as I pounded on him with impotent fists, kicking and screaming like a crazy person.

Suddenly, he dropped me in a pile on the floor. I wrapped my arms over my neck and curled my legs in to protect my soft parts, still screaming. When another blow never came, I dared to look around. Nicholas and the black-haired vampire were grappling on the other side of the room. As I watched the slender vampire danced away from the master and sliced at his face with his claws, drawing blood. I glanced down and saw that the poker was still in the fire.

I grabbed it; not thinking; and my hand burned instantly from the heat of the handle. I forced myself to hold onto it and staggered at them. I raised the poker as high as the agonizing pain would allow. I stabbed it into Vittorio’s leg, high up on the back of his thigh. He yowled in pain and jerked away; taking the poker and layers of skin from my hand with him. Nicholas stood between us as I sagged to the floor. Nicholas motioned with his head and vampires flooded into the room and grabbed the other vampire by the arms and legs.

“Lock Vittorio in a cell,” he ordered, straightening his jacket. “Make sure you take the poker out first.” The male vampire closest to him nodded and yanked the poker out of Vittorio’s thigh. I gasped as I realized how deep I’d managed to impale him. I only wished I’d been able to raise my arm to the level of his heart.

Rachel stayed behind when the others left and Colette was close behind her. Her face was tight and even paler than usual; if that was possible. It was Colette who examined my hand, blowing cool air across the raw, bloody skin as the pain made me vomit bile.

“Colette. You’ve only just been released. Do not make me put you back before you’ve had a chance to feed.” She cringed and her eyes went to the floor.

“Her hand is so hot it hurts my skin. I was just trying to cool it.” I glanced down at her, kneeling so she was smaller than me, my hand cupped in hers as in supplication.

“I’m okay. It just hurts so, so much.” Colette glanced up at me, then at Nicholas.

“I can heal her,” Colette said softly. Her face was paler than I’d seen; so translucent I could clearly see the veins below her skin.

“No, Colette. You may not.” The master’s voice was stern but not angry. She backed away from me and Rachel put her to work; righting the furniture and making the evidence of violence disappear before my eyes. I wished they could do the same with my hand, which had started trembling uncontrollably once Colette let go of it.

“Leave us!” Nicholas’ bark startled all three of us equally and even as I cringed away from him, I saw Colette and Rachel draw back towards each other. “Stop cringing like beaten dogs and leave us please,” he added with a glance toward me. He held out his hand and I placed my good one in it, so he could help me to my feet.

“Are you angry with me?” I asked, my voice shaky and small.

“Not nearly as angry as I am with myself,” he admitted. “You should have come down to supper with me.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” I argued lamely.

“Yes, I know.”

“He was… is, my foster brother.” I paused and cleared my throat, then looked Nicholas in the eye. “His parents took me in when a vampire murdered my parents. I was only three when it happened.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”

“A vampire tore their throats out and bled them dry while I sat in my crib, watching. Loss is not really an adequate word,” I corrected. The combination of fear, anger, and pain had my system flooded with adrenaline.

“. I understand your fear of us.” He replied. “Your brother saved Colette. I should have asked him sooner who hurt him. Colette’s thoughts can be difficult to interpret.”

“Some people are monsters and so are some vampires. I’m learning. I’ve always wondered why the vampire didn’t kill me too.” I confessed.

“You are special. You have laughable control over your psychic ability; but your raw power is enough that you broke through a shield built to be strong enough to keep me out, and sensed your brother.” He helped me up onto the bed and laid me back against the pillows, placing another one under my hand so it was elevated, palm up. “Perhaps you were able to make the vampire leave.”

“Could I do it again?” My voice was clipped, and he looked at me sharply.

“I could train you to, yes.” He sighed. “But first, I have to heal this. It could get infected and I need you healthy and whole.” Something in his voice made me nervous and I tried to pull my hand back, but his hand shot out; lightning fast and gripped me tight by the wrist.

“Please,” I whimpered. He released my hand and leaned over me, his hand on my stomach.

“I’m not going to damage you, but this might sting.” His hand slid up my bare stomach and over my breast and I gasped as pleasure surged through me, so different from what I had just experienced.  I didn’t have time to register embarrassment before his leg went between mine and he pinned me at my hip. He pressed down so I couldn’t wriggle out from under him. His hand moved past my chest to my throat and chin; pushing my face away from him and baring my carotid artery.

“Oh God. Please, please don’t,” I whimpered and shook, the trembling intensifying as I felt his breath on my ear.

“I won’t take enough to harm you, I simply need to feed before I can heal you. I promise. Everything I take I will return to you.” His lips brushed my jaw and moved down to my neck and I fought the urge to pull him tighter to me. I felt torn between the pleasure of his closeness and the understanding that I was completely at the mercy of a creature that could take my life as easily as a thought.

There was a prick of fangs at my throat and his aura was so enthralling that all I desired was to give him everything he wanted. He chuckled and I crimsoned, realizing he was in my head again. His laugh was enough to bring me back to myself a little, but the pain in my hand still made concentrating on a psychic shield too difficult.

Hit bit down and I understood what David had been trying to explain. Pleasure rushed through me to places that I had never been touched. My hand clutched at him, holding him to me even as I begged him to stop. He moaned into my shoulder and licked over the place where he’d bitten me.

“I sealed the wound. No need to worry about bleeding,” he explained as he pushed up off me and I felt my throat for punctures. I could feel the two pinpricks, but my hand came away clean of anything but some saliva. He rolled up his sleeve past the wrist and sliced his skin open with one fingernail. I balked and pushed away; the euphoria of his bite replaced by revulsion.

“You can’t expect me to…”

“Drink. It will heal your hand. I told you I would return what was yours.” I gagged and shook my head. “You enjoyed it when I took it, I felt your body respond to me, even if I hadn’t heard your thoughts. Taking it from me will produce a similar rush. That’s how we get repeat donors,” he whispered. He lifted me and held me with my back against him. “Please let me heal you.” He lifted the narrow red stripe to my mouth and I flicked my tongue over it to gauge my gag reflex.

The tiny hit of his power on my tongue felt like I’d licked an electrical socket; if doing such a thing could make you high and aroused. I latched onto him and drew my tongue over him; using it to pry into the wound he’d made and then sinking my teeth into the flesh around it to push more blood out to my waiting mouth. I felt him grow aroused; pressing into my rear. For one heart-stopping moment I realized where the exchange could lead. Then I was alone. His wrist was gone from my mouth and when I glanced around, I saw the door pull shut, followed by a familiar click of the lock.

My head was light; the deep colors of the room were brighter to me. Even from across the room I could feel the fire’s glow, as though I sat on the hearth.

I curled up on my side and held my burned hand out in front of me. I rode out the after-glow of my first blood exchange and tried to ignore the lonely ache deep inside me; not for David, or for home, but for the strange creature who had taken me against my will and held me captive. It was a sickness to want to know him; not just about his kind; the man who had fought his own brother to protect me. I ‘d heard pain in his voice as he begged me to let him heal me. Those weren’t the actions of a monster.

The darkest feeling in me was the war between everything I had known before and my fascination with the emerald-eyed stranger whose tainted blood still coated my tongue with metallic sweetness and ran through my veins like fire.

Chapter 12

There was sunlight on my face when I awoke. It was so bright against my eyelids that I was afraid to open them so I lay very still and listened for anything that could tell me where I was. Still air and the musky smell of old stone and the passage of centuries surrounded me. I gathered my bravery enough to crack one eyelid. I was in the fortress or castle, after all, but not in my room. I forced myself to unwind the bandage from my hand while I was still partially hidden by my bedding, as though it would also protect me from whatever I would find.

I drew in a shaky breath as the bandage fell away to reveal almost unblemished skin. Only the barest marking of the burn remained. It was weeks— maybe months— healed. I didn’t know if that was from the vampire blood or if I had been held even longer while I was unconscious. Either way, I wasn’t about to be killed and that thought gave me the bravery to poke my head out completely and look around.

So much light surrounded me I could almost convince myself that I hadn’t been kidnapped at all. I had fallen, bumped my head, and woken up here and in my inured state conjured dreams that combined my history and life with the Venatores. Then I looked again and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. The windows were high up and while sunlight had fallen on my face, I could see the gears and pulleys that would drop a metal cover over them, shutting any trace of light out.

Along the walls were bright, well-preserved tapestries. They hung all around the room and told, in the most graphic pictures, a story of violence and death: a story where vampires hunted peasants and aristocrats alike and bathed in the blood of their victims. Such grisly displays made my stomach heave. Still, I had to get off the island of comfort that I hid in and the door was only a few steps away.

I slipped out of the bed and my feet landed silently without even a whisper as my bare soles hit the stone floor. The stone itself wasn’t cold to the touch and belatedly I realized I didn’t feel cold at all, even though I was naked. It was as though the air had warmed itself to the temperature of my skin. Or, I thought with a shudder, my skin had cooled to the temperature of the air. I felt my wrist and was relieved to find a strong, steady pulse there.

I wrapped myself in a coverlet from the end of the bed for modesty’s sake, and slunk to the door. I reached out with my ability to feel for signs of anyone on the other side of the door. I felt no presence, but received something like a sonar image of a stone corridor that turned a corner not far from the door. I inhaled sharply; pleased with how much my skill had grown and how much clearer the image was than any I’d gotten before.

Of course; the door was locked from the outside and I kicked it angrily, stubbing my toe hard. My eyes teared up and I pressed my back to the wall, biting off a curse. I held my breath and listened. When no sound came from the other side, I released the breath I’d been holding and continued to inspect my surroundings.

I dropped the blanket and wandered around the room, touching furniture, books, anything within reach; reveling in the sensation of the different textures under my skin. I looked down at my hands. My hands and arms were still mine but like I was wearing a new skin for the very first time. I found the only truly familiar thing in the room when I sat in a high-backed chair and drew my knees up to my chest, heels resting on my bare buttocks.

I happened to glance next to my seat and all by itself, lying on the table as though it was left for me; was the leather packet that contained Dominique’s spells. In the light of day, they were far easier to read, and I retied the leather thong and lifted it into my lap. Underneath it was a small piece of parchment, folded in half. I opened it and read the note.

Lady Caroline,

It grieves me to have to use such an impersonal method to give you such a deeply personal piece of news. However, if my business detains me, you cannot wait until night has fallen to learn what I am about to speak of.

I will keep my promise of returning your own foster brother to your people. However, I cannot promise that violence will not follow back to us. You were taken with war in mind and though I know you wished to leave with him; it is something that I cannot allow. You will understand more as night falls, but you are likely already feeling the effects of the blood exchange between us. When the sun goes down you’ll feel it more, and you will need to be with us to avoid the dangers thereof.

I must thank you. In finding David, you unwittingly uncovered my brother’s ambitions, which have increased these last decades while he was leading the coven. I was not aware of my brother’s ability to block me from his mind and once I pulled the thread that you uncovered ; his plan to replace me as Master of the City was exposed. I do not know the breadth of his betrayal. For this reason, you have been moved to my own quarters for your safety.

As intriguing to me as you are, I would not have wished for this to be the reason you stay with us and I hope that you understand no deception was intended when I healed you. I thought only of healing your injury, which was most severe.

Most Sincerely Yours,

Lord Nicholas De Elbrecht

I read the note again, then stood and examined my body. My hand, if possible, looked even more healed than it had minutes before. I shuddered; cold despite the absolute lack of a chill on my skin. If this was what vampire blood did to me in the warm light of day, how much more did I have to look forward to when night fell? Determined to rise to the challenge, I tried to clear my mind. There were no clothes in sight for me and I hoped that meant someone was coming for me. As if my thoughts were being read I heard the metal on metal grind of the pulley system above my head and the metal covers clattered into place, sinking the room, and me, into darkness.

My eyes adjusted fast and I could tell the depths of shadow apart; so when the door opened, I could see the difference between the dark inside the room and the heavier dark of the hall outside.  Nicholas entered the room and I covered myself as best I could with my limbs, watching him. When he realized I was out of bed, his face turned and I could tell from the flash of his eyes that he had found me. He picked up the fallen coverlet and swung it over me, letting me tuck it in around myself.

“You will have help to dress soon,” he said curtly.

“I only want Rachel to help me,” I replied. He dipped his head in agreement.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“You can see me.”

“A little,” I admitted. “You’re a less dark shadow on black, but I can see you.”

“Are you angry?” His voice was devoid of emotion, but there was regret in his words.

“I was in so much pain, I couldn’t have told you no if I wanted to.

“As soon as the others had him, all there was, was blinding pain,” he reminded me

“You felt my pain?” His form paced; until with a curse, he bent toward the fireplace and a flame leaped from the logs.

“Yes, I could feel, or, rather hear your pain, screaming in my head.” I nodded, and glanced toward the fire. “How did you do that?”

“That, well, that was just natural gas and an ignitor, you could’ve started it anytime you wanted.” He looked away from me and cleared his throat, while I sat back, feeling like an idiot.

“So, not vampire magic?” I said drily. He turned to face me, and the air whooshed out of my chest. His face, ruggedly handsome even in its usual brooding expression, was made irresistible by his smile. I closed my mouth and tried to hide the blush that I felt climbing my spine to spread over my chest and shoulders to my face. I dropped my eyes and went still as his shadow fell over me.

When I looked up from under my eyelids, he was over me, his face as close as he had been the night before. The memory of his touch made my heart speed up and I licked my lips; trying desperately to think of something to say, that would make him stop staring into my eyes with that hunger.

“You are such an old soul, for one so tender in years,” he whispered softly. My body trembled from the brush of his breath over what little skin was exposed and I wished I’d covered even more of myself with the blanket.

His lips brushed my forehead and I turned my face up to him as his lips came down again, brushing my lips once, twice, and then again with a deeper kiss, until I pricked my tongue on a fang and the swift pain brought me back to myself.

“You were in my head!” I gasped, ineffectually shoving against his chest. He stepped back from me, anger plain on his face for a split second, before it smoothed out to its usual unreadable calm.

“Whatever gives you peace from your hypocrisy, my lady,” he said coolly. I knew that he hadn’t done any more than I wanted him to and bit my lip to stop talking. I changed the subject before I was forced to face my own desire for not just that kiss, but more; so much more I didn’t understand what it was I wanted. He spun on one heel and strode toward the door.

“Wait,” I called out, my voice cracking with emotion, “Please don’t go. Not like this.” He turned his head toward me.

“Then how should I go?”

“Please stay with me. How long have I been here? I have been alone in the dark for years, it seems. I thought you wanted to talk to me.” He slowly turned his body to face me.

“Perhaps I should find someone else to speak with me. A Venatores hunter is not an appropriate choice in a consigliore or liaison with the outside world.”

I raised an eyebrow at his words.

“It would seem to me that there is no one better to advise you on the world than someone who lives on both sides of the veil between humanity and the creatures of the night” I countered, tucking my cover under my arms and pushing it in at my sides so it looked like a dress. “I still want to go home. But, you and Rachel, and even Colette, in her half-crazed way, have taken care of me and tried to keep me safe. Let me do what you had me here for.”

He slowly walked back to the fire and sat in the other chair. He looked me over and I flushed again, my eyes dropping to my lap.

“Why do you do that? Drop your eyes like an errant child under the scrutiny of a parent?” he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth when I glanced at him.

“You remember having parents?” I asked, amazed.

“Not as much as I have experienced being the parent, of sorts. These are monsters to you. To me, they are my children, the good ones and those who vex me, equally.”

My shoulders sagged. “You aren’t all monsters,” I admitted. “But, Vittorio won’t be punished for what he did to me and David?” I asked him, doing my best to keep my voice measured and calm.

“He is already being punished. He will not be killed so don’t ask for it. He’s special to me. He was my brother before we were turned and is the last surviving member of my birth family. And now, it is time for you to answer my questions, tiny hunter.” His voice was gentle. He smiled at me and my heart melted.

“But you have so much more to teach me. What can I do, tell you the best cell phone provider and steer you toward the coolest clothing stores? I’m seventeen and I feel younger in terms of the world. I don’t know anything, except what the Venatores want me to. Because of you, now I know that’s practically nothing.” I took a breath. “But you must know so much, about where I’m from, and what I can do with this ability in my head.” I leaned forward and touched his hand without thinking, forgetting to breathe as electricity shot through me. I sat back and twisted my fingers together, afraid to look in his eyes.

“You are very brash, for one who seems so afraid of herself.” He chuckled and my eyes met his as I glanced up in surprise.

“I’m not afraid of myself, I’m afraid of everything else,” I corrected him, embarrassed and ashamed.

“And yet, the only times I’ve seen you afraid, have been when you were confronted with your own power, your own emotions, and your own beauty.”

I crimsoned, my face hot. He leaned forward and took my hand, making me tremble as a tingling sensation pulsed through my body. “You are beautiful, and wise, it is easy to forget how young you are.”

“How old were you, when you were changed?” I asked taking my hands back from his grip.

“I was twenty-two years old. Almost a man,” he scoffed. “Vittorio was nineteen. Even then, he had a predilection for causing fear in women. He preferred them uncertain and unbalanced when he courted them.”

I shook my head at him. “I admit, this blanket is not enough cover if he’s going to be the topic.” I shuddered as the mood changed with mention of his brother’s name.

“We are, who we are. When we’re infected, we don’t change; we simply become more of who we already are. Hunting our food is necessity. Not all are cruel; some refuse human blood altogether. Others,” he sighed and stared into the fire, “others were never human, and they too become even more monstrous than they were.”

“But you let them live,” I coaxed, and he scoffed and stood, towering over me with the flames behind him, casting an eerie shadow.

“You live among hunters, who do not discern between good or evil, but if given the chance will hunt everything and anything that is different from them and you presume to judge me?” he stated. His voice was cold and flat and my mouth dried up even as my palms dampened. “What exactly was your brother up to, when you were taken? He is a predator too, after all. How long would you have looked the other way as he used his ability to prey on the women around him?”

“He can’t help it!” I began, but something in his eyes made me stop. “You have that same ability,” I accused him. “I’ve felt it and seen it work.”

“But you do not feel it now, do you?” He asked, coldly. For the second time in hours, tears stung my eyelids as I realized the truth of what he said.

“I think you were right, after all. I’m sorry I asked you to stay, you have much more important business to attend to,” I said. I was proud that at least my voice did not betray the pain I felt as I thought about how long I had desired David; possibly against my own will.

“I’ll send Rachel to you. You need to be dressed before you say goodbye to your David.”

“He’s not my—” I started to argue, but slammed my mouth shut and nodded. He left without a sound besides the loud click of the door being locked. I was left reeling from the understanding that my best friend had used his glamor on me for years to manipulate me. It wasn’t until I felt the darkness fall over the last rays of a sunset I couldn’t even see; that I realized I had failed to ask what should have been the most important question of all. What was going to happen to me now?

Chapter 13

It was only a few minutes before Rachel joined me, her arms full of fabric. She didn’t greet or speak to me and I was afraid that my last words with her master had pushed him too far. I obediently stood and moved as she gestured, helping her dress me, and tried to fight my tears. She had been kind, almost warm, but it was my fault for forgetting what she was and what I was to her.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words slipping out without my meaning them to. I thought of Simi; the bold, brash hunter who had pushed me harder than any of the others in my class. I also thought of Dominique who had told me I was special and given me her own spells to learn from on my own. I was apologizing to the vampire for being a hunter. In my thoughts, it was the hunter’s I was too ashamed to face again.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and when I turned the eyes peering into mine weren’t angry, but sympathetic. Rachel winked at me and walked over to the wall nearest the bookshelves. She turned an old-fashioned switch I’d missed in my exploration of the room and low, flickering Edison bulbs glowed. She motioned me to her and when I got close enough; she pulled down the collar of her dress to show me a long, crooked line of dried blood across her throat. I gasped and she folded her collar up.

“Who?” I asked, but I was sure I knew. “Nicholas?” I suggested, and she shook her head. “Vittorio.” I growled. She set her mouth in a thin line. “How?” I asked then waved my hands. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place, even if you could speak.”

“Oh, she’ll be talking soon enough,” said a low, husky voice that sent chills down my spine.

“Hello, Colette,” I replied, staring wide-eyed at Rachel, but managing to keep my voice calm.

“Witch,” the vampire whined, “I’m losing my plaything because of you.”

“And here I was thinking you were alive because of me,” I scoffed. Rachel gave me her arm, as though to escort me, and placed herself between us.

“The coffin wouldn’t have killed me. It won’t kill Vittorio either. But you had best hope that the master doesn’t decide to make you his servant and keep you, because his brother will only be crazier and angrier when he finally gets out.” I paused and looked her in the eyes.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Rachel prodded me ahead and I glared at her before moving.

“That’s for the master to share, not me,” Colette gloated. I made a rude noise at her and let Rachel escort me. I was fully aware that I was only brave with her at my side. Colette wanted me to ask, which made me want to do anything but ask her. However, even as I silently swore to say nothing to him, my curiosity grew.

Rachel led me along the corridor and down the sweeping staircase. It curved around, just as I’d seen when I’d reached out with my ability. Emboldened by my earlier success, I tried again. I lowered my eyelids and let Rachel be my eyes while I reached out with my mental “fingers” of psychic power and looked ahead. At the bottom of the stairs I saw two vampires standing on either side of the staircase in servant’s uniforms, with white linen shirts tucked into black fitted trousers, with matching black vests and white gloves.

The light was brighter at the bottom of the stairs than it had been in either of the quarters I’d been held in. It occurred to me that while the room was the Master’s, he probably spent very little time there. In the large foyer at the bottom of the stairs, a chandelier hung glittering high above our heads; more lights shone from sconces on every wall. The entrance was ahead of us and as I turned I saw a double door that mirrored the one I’d just been facing. It led under the stairs and was also manned by footmen.

I was led through the interior doors, which were served by another set of vampire footmen; then we walked down the stairs toward the ballroom. The sheer amount of gold in the ceiling and walls was staggering. It served to amplify the light from the giant chandeliers that hung on each end of the dance floor.

“Is there a ball tonight?” I murmured to Rachel, once I found my voice.

“No. There is an emissary from the Venatores lamiae arriving to collect your hunter-friend.” Her voice was rough and raw and barely more than a whisper because of her injuries. I felt a stab of shame that I’d forgotten her injury in my panic at the scene before me. Knowing how fast my hand had healed, I was afraid to even speculate at the severity of her original injury.

I could infer from the number of servants alone that Nicholas wanted to impress upon the visiting hunters both his civility and his strength. Fear speared through me like ice and I clung to Rachel as if I was still a child and she could protect me. But, it wasn’t the vampires lounging in every corner and at every table that overlooked the ballroom floor that I was afraid of. It was the bloodshed I was becoming increasingly certain was about to occur.

“Rachel, tell me, how long have we been here?” I glanced up at her, but I couldn’t stop looking into every shadow, trying to count the number of vampires behind the vast amount of power being pushed at me.

“Only a few days,” Rachel said quietly, her whisper full of gravel.

“A few days,” I repeated. “It feels like forever. I want to go home, but...” I sighed and turned away from her scrutiny.

She found me a bench against a wall and even though it meant there were vampires above me I couldn’t see; I felt safer there under the bright lights. I stared around me, knowing my eyes were too wide and afraid, and my blood was pounding through my veins too fast. I tried to control both as best I could. Even so, when I saw Nicholas burst through the doors, all logical thought fled my mind.

He was dressed in red and black; his tight, shiny leather pants laced up the front and tucked into boots that hit him just above the knee. His shirt was silk, a red so dark, it looked like it had been dipped in fresh blood before he put it on. It was unbuttoned low on his chest; framing the flawless white marble of his chest and throat beneath the black scruff along his jaw. Rachel tipped my face up to her and gently shut my mouth at the same time; keeping eye contact with me until I came back to myself.

“What was that?” I managed to cough out.

“Not for you,” she whispered in her harsh, grated tone. I nodded and stared at her while I built up my psychic shield. “Faster next time,” she chided, stretching her head to the left, and then the right. “Getting better,” she added softly, patting the cameo in the hollow at the base of her throat.

I watched as a group of musicians descended the stairs and sat in the corner across the room from me. They tuned their instruments and began a waltz; I watched as vampires filled the floor for a dance. The musicians had no power when I tried to reach out to them. It was then that I realized that they were more human even than I was. There was no taste of power of any kind as I watched the vampires around them; dancing in sweeping, graceful circles across the floor.

“Not a ball, huh?” I asked, shooting Rachel a look. She smiled and shrugged. “We put on our show, then the Venatores put on their show, and then we get down to business.” I looked around for anyone who stood out as a hunter among the vampires but they hadn’t arrived. I couldn’t see a hunter anywhere; none that I was aware of.

Occasionally I caught a glimpse of Nicholas, leaning over the hand of some female vampire or other; or he was speaking closely with one of the vampires I assumed were his lieutenants. He was so handsome and untouchable. I was afraid he’d never come to me after irritating him in his quarters.

The air grew static with anticipation as vampires opened themselves up and pushed out with their power, flexing for each other and deafening me with the sheer press of psychic energy against me. I stretched my jaw and tried to pop my ears, but the pressure was steady and unyielding. My fidgeting increased as my discomfort grew, and the musicians played on without a skipped beat; completely unaware of the danger they were in.

I glanced up at Rachel and shook my head, jerking to my feet. I needed to get out of that room, away from all that power, before I imploded from the forces pressing against my skull and ribcage. She took my hand and tried to help me walk as I leaned against the wall for ballast. I felt one last push; something new; different from any of the posturing vampires, or Nicholas, or even Vittorio. The violent stab broke the damn in my head.

I released every ounce of power clinging to my mind, shaking it off like a wet dog and flinging it to every corner of the room. My chest was heaving as I tried to fill my lungs. Vampires on the dance floor faltered. Even those standing against the rails above staggered back in shock as I expelled every ounce of energy and sagged; shaking against Rachel.

“Little fool,” she hissed, and glanced around furtively, looking for an escape, as the vampires all turned and honed in on me. In an instant, Nicholas was upon me, his hands on my waist, before he spun me out onto the dance floor.

“I can’t dance, I can’t even feel my feet from all that power,” I whispered in a panic, even though whispering was useless in a room full of super-predators with preternatural hearing.

“Then it’s just as well you can’t shield right now,” he replied glibly. I felt him enter my mind; a gentle, sensuous touch that showed me images of my limbs moving in time with his, making me feel the way my feet should step with the beat. I stared into his jewel-green eyes and let myself fall, trusting him to keep me safe and not let me make a fool of myself. In that moment, I understood that they were the same goal.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered so softly it was almost just a movement of my lips. He gave a small nod and I knew he recognized I meant for more than just losing control of my shielding.

“They know you’re powerful now. I don’t know if I can keep you out of our turmoil. You must go with the Venatores,” he admitted. His voice and eyes seemed as unhappy with the prospect as I was about leaving him. Vampires stared from every corner as we swayed together, my body pressed to his.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stay without complaining; I promise. I’ll do whatever you need.” I suddenly felt black despair at the thought of leaving him, so many questions unanswered; so much about him I still wanted to learn. He twirled me and held me close by turns, dancing until I felt dizzy and weak in the knees. I wanted to dance with him for the rest of the night, and long after. I felt him in my mind and tilted my head so he could kiss me again. My fingers grazed jaw and my other hand went to his chest over his heart. I felt it beating stronger than I ever thought possible, in time to mine.

I felt his fingers in the loose curls of hair at my neck, and then, nothing. He stiffened and pulled away from me. Before I could register my shock and disappointment I heard a familiar voice behind me and felt Nicholas’ presence leave my mind and shut the door behind him. He had repaired my shield and protected me, without my knowing it. The invasive breadth of his power quickly brought me to myself and I turned to face the men and women standing at the top of the stairs. They were men and women for sure!

Dominique stood with them, her eyes soft and concerned as they met mine. However, Eldritch and Somayo, one of our lead hunters, looked down at me with open disgust; Simi wouldn’t meet my eyes at all. Somayo moved to one side so I could see that David had been hidden behind his massive frame. He was still pale and his cuts and bruises lay in sharp relief to the whiteness of his normally tan Latino complexion. He stepped forward and glared balefully at me out of his one good eye and I felt my chin jut in automatic response to his judgement.

“Nicholas, Master of Los Angeles, we greet you,” Professor Eldritch called out; while the hunters all pointed weapons close to the vampires, if not quite at them. I took a deep breath and waited for Nicholas to speak. He stepped forward, putting himself between me and my people and I made a sound of dismay and argument, before a nudge of power from him stole the sound from my lips. I clutched at my throat and looked around for Rachel, who was watching the scene from a position near the human musicians, her skirt hiked up to show a long knife in a garter.

“You look well, Lady Borgia,” Nicholas said, turning toward the sorceress. “The centuries have been good to you.”

“You as well, my lord De Elbrecht,” she replied without inflection. “Now that we have reminded everyone in the room of who is titled, and who is not, perhaps we can get on with the exchange.” Nicholas gestured toward David and I tried to creep around his side to better see the hunters that were still stacked up behind Eldritch.

“You still have something of ours, my lord,” Somayo reminded him, his voice dripping with sarcasm at the title. Nicholas’ chin went up and Somayo staggered as a wall of power slammed into him, and only him.

“When you are outnumbered and outgunned, hunter, it would serve you to remember your manners,” a pale-haired vampire said. He strode into the center of the dance floor to stand slightly behind me, to the left of his master. Nicholas held up a hand and the lieutenant fell silent; standing at ease; his icy eyes fixed on the large black hunter who was still recovering his land legs from the blast.

A second, female vampire came up on the other side of us, to stand just at my back. Her power prickled along my skin until I turned my head and glared at her. She eyed me with jade cat-eyes but pulled her power back until I could stand it without discomfort. I brushed her with my own, as a warning, and she closed herself off completely.

Before I could gloat over my small victory, David stepped forward, taking the arm of another hunter as he descended the first two stairs before stopping. My heart soared when I saw it was Clayton and with a gasp I jerked forward to go to him, happy tears brimming over my eyelashes. I managed two steps before a third vampire lunged between us and grabbed my arm; hard enough that I felt the bone of my wrist grind together under the pressure.

I screamed in pain and leaped back to the safety of Nicholas’ arms; cradling my arm and staring helplessly at my foster brother and my friend. With a growl, Nicholas shoved me back against the female vampire and lashed out with his fist. I saw a spray of ruby liquid fly from the vampire’s face as his nose was crushed. The vampire fell to the floor and some other vampires picked him up and carried him off to the side of the dance floor, their frocks and trousers getting splashed by the still free-flowing blood.

“Send her to us, Nicholas,” Dominique commanded. “We do not wish to spill any more blood tonight.”

“Any more than you did retrieving your hunter, you mean?” he scoffed. “He was in my care, a guest, not a prisoner. You could have waited until the exchange; but honor isn’t a value known to your kind, is it?”

“Honor?” Eldritch bellowed. He limped forward and slid his sword free of its cane/sheath. Dominique reached out to stop him and he shot her a withering look that made her step back. “Don’t think there’s any pity for witches who consort with demons, Borgia.” I quailed at his words, waiting for lightning to strike him for speaking out against her, but instead she pressed her lips together in a thin line and stood her ground without argument. I looked to David and Clayton for help to prevent Eldritch from starting a bloodbath; which, with the ratio of vampires to hunters, had only one possible outcome. Clayton’s face was calm and determined. I risked a smile at him; reaching out to him with my thoughts on the remote chance he could hear me tell him how glad I was to see him.

I felt him recoil at the touch of my mind and his eyes widened in fear before he looked away and wouldn’t meet my gaze again. I looked at David and he stared back with sick satisfaction at our friend’s physical recoil from me. There was no stalemate and there was no agreement. The entire ballroom was filled with violent anticipation, leaving a tang of fear and dread like ozone in the air.

I glanced back at the musicians, all slack-faced and unaware. Rachel was standing guard over them, as much from the vampires, I realized, as from overzealous hunters. I felt panic rearing its ugly head inside me and gathered all my strength, waiting for a blow from one side or the other. I knew I was an enemy to both now, but did not understand why.

Nicholas pressed me against the long, hard line of his body, and my panic began to subside. I looked at David and understood his hatred. I’d been taken against my will and had been lavished, in his mind, with honor and gifts. He’d followed Colette; the lure; out of sheer stupidity and lust. His broken bones were his reward.

“This isn’t my fault, David,” I said, my voice ringing out louder than I intended in the taut silence of the room. “You chose to follow the lure. You admitted to enjoying being her food. Your choices, your consequences.” He snarled and leaned forward, but Clay held him back. Clayton glanced at me in confusion, and I knew without a doubt that wasn’t the story David was telling.

“And what about you and your new master?” David demanded. “Whore.” He spat the insult at me, but I felt nothing but disinterest in his self-pity, and disgust that he’d chosen to manipulate me. Especially when I gladly gave him my loyalty; long before he decided to use me as his practice target.

“Better the vampire with a sense of honor, than the would-be hunter who thinks mind-raping girls for fun is a worthy pastime.” My voice broke and I shook with anger. At my glance, Clay automatically jerked away from David, as though he wanted to avoid any over spill of my rage.

“Enough.” Nicholas didn’t raise his voice, yet it rang out over the room and pressed down on the rising energy like a damper. “As you can see, you are surrounded. Since you have what you came for; I suggest you leave before the Venatores lamiae find themselves short several hunters.” I spun around and faced him.

“No,” I said softly. “Back away and let them go. I will stay as your hostage; but no more threats. Please.”

“Do you understand that they killed my people to collect him?”

I nodded.

“I do, and I understand that means I will be punished for them,” I glanced back at my friends and mentors; current and former. “These people are my family. I would do anything to keep them safe, just like you would for yours.” My whole body shook with fear and my stomach heaved, but I stood firm. “I accept the punishment for the murders these hunters committed. They were just trying to save us. We were foolish, and ignorant of the world, despite what we know.”

Domonique’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. David scoffed, and turned away. Professor Eldritch was the one who spoke up first.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, girl?” he muttered. He grabbed David by the shoulder and pushed him back toward the stairs.

“She’s his whore. He won’t hurt her.”

I didn’t bother to refute his evil words. I had fed from the master and he from me. The hunters wouldn’t care if it was to save me.

“I am no one’s whore, David. But, I am especially not yours.” I raised my voice so that the hunters on the stairs could hear me clearly. “I hope someone teaches my foster brother to control his mind-rape ability, before he crosses the wrong person and brings dishonor on you all.” I shrugged at the professor.

“You will die,” he said, softer, staring into my eyes as if to make me understand. He wasn’t angry. If anything; I noted; he was proud of me.

“But, I will die with honor,” I replied. I gathered the power that had attracted the attention of all the vampires— that hidden store that I felt deep inside me— and focused. “You should go, quickly.” My plan was to simply blast out all the energy I had in me and hope it cut down on the vampires they had to fight on the way out.

Instead, I saw a flash of light from the top of the staircase as Lady Borgia set off a flash grenade. Blinded, I dropped to my knees automatically; my body kicking into training mode from all the work and obstacle courses Simi had put me through. I felt a tap on my shoulder and shifted to the left, staying low. Vampires and hunters clashed at the base of the stairs and my voluminous skirts got in the way as I tried to help the hunters fight their way back toward the door.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and Professor Eldritch was there; Nicholas at his back. I tried to warn him, but Nicholas grabbed us both and suddenly I was at the top of the stairs with the professor standing next to me. Nicholas was ahead of us, in the doorway; as he motioned for us to follow him. I looked back, trying to find David, or Clay, or Simi, but they were too far to call to without attracting the attention of every vampire between us. Eldritch grabbed my good arm and shoved me ahead of him, and I shook my head.

“I can fight!” I hissed.

“I know you can. But, you have a power that needs to be protected. Go with him now. We’ll come find you. I promise,” he bellowed over the din of the fight. I finally obeyed, looking back only once to see my professor fighting a vampire with his sword.

Nicholas ducked to one side as more vampires and hunters battled in the grand foyer and led me through a labyrinthine set of corridors that took us deep underground. Together we ran faster and faster until I skidded to a stop, amazement on my face. He laughed and took my hand; turning another corner and stopping outside a forbidding steel door.

“Through this room, is your freedom. It is a back door of sorts.” He opened the door to a room lit only by torches hung on the walls to each side. There were doors at the far end and a single coffin in the middle, wrapped in heavy chains.

I walked closer to it and it began to shake. Ragged screams echoed from inside, making me jump back in alarm. I pulled Nicholas back into the hall we’d just come through.

“Vittorio?” I stammered, clutching Nicholas’ hand. He nodded and tugged me past it to a door on the other side. Through it was a short hall with a door at the other end.

“There is a path that will take you to the top of the hill.”

I shook out the heavy skirts. “Will I be able to run without you by my side, or should I leave this here?” I asked.

“It will fade, but for a few days, you are almost as fast as a vampire.” It explained why vampires seldom kept human servants. If the blood exchange gave the human so much more than it did the vampire; it could be detrimental to the community.

“Wait,” I asked, grabbing Nicholas’ hand and holding him tight as he turned to go back into the room with the horrifying vampire prison. “What are you going to do?” He ran his fingers over my cheek and slid his hand behind my head, fisting my hair as he pulled me to him.

“I’m going to get your hunters out of there. Go home, sweet, young Caroline. I will always find you and you will always know when I’m near.”

“I will know you, because of my power, just as I will know when Vittorio is freed from his cage,” I argued, selfishly stalling; even though my friends were fighting for their lives.

“Your psychic gift is now strong and will be stronger once you come back to me.” He kissed me then and the heat in my body leapt to a fever pitch as his fangs gently scraped over my tongue and lips. He managed not to pierce me. I was finally leaving, but all I wanted was more of that kiss.

“There’s a trick to kissing a vampire,” I whispered, stroking my finger over the cool skin of his hand before backing away.

“There are many things I look forward to teaching you, Caroline,” he said, his voice full of dark promises. “Take care, tiny hunter, that you come back to me in one piece.” I trembled and he ran his fingers down the low neckline of my dress, making my legs rubber. “Now, run Caroline, go.”

I walked through the little wooden door and when it closed behind me I couldn’t see anything suggesting an underground fortress lay behind it. I tried the latch and it was locked tight. It stung my hand with the energy from the spells that kept people from wandering in unannounced.

I left the underskirts next to the door in case Rachel ever came looking for them. I picked up the skirts of the rest of the dress and held it around my waist as I ran. The trees and bushes flew by me in the light reflected by the moon and I ran full out, my good arm holding my skirts, my injured one pressed against my chest. Even as I ran, I felt the pain lessening in my arm and soon I could hold it by my side with a fraction of the pain it had been in before.

The vampire blood would fade, Nicholas had said.  As I wiggled the fingers on my right hand, I was grateful for it. He had sacrificed power to heal me and the thought warmed and thrilled me. I slowed my run and tried to sense vampires or hunters, but there was no one immediately near me.

I kept moving until Dominique reached out to me and when I sensed her presence, I slowed my run, trying to see everything around me. I then slowed more to a walk as I reached a paved road. I walked along the edge; drawing closer to Dominique’s power, until I saw a car ahead of me pulled over to the side. A door opened and in the light from the overhead dome, I saw Clay inside. I staggered towards it, suddenly overcome with emotion, and the realization that I was truly free and going home.

Clayton splinted my arm and made a sling out of fabric from my skirt, even though I explained that I was much better. I saw regret in his eyes and knew he was trying to make up for what had happened between us in the ballroom. Simi— that beautiful, brilliant woman I was afraid I’d never see again— wrapped me in a blanket and held me in her muscular arms all the way to the safe house in Burbank, California. I didn’t complain.

It was Clay who got me alone as I stepped out of the shower; dressed and towel-drying my hair. He called me over to him in a corner and handed me a tumbler of whiskey, which I took after checking to see if any of the adults were going to stop me.

“What happened back there?” I finally asked. I hadn’t spoken the whole ride, too afraid that I would find out that everyone else had died. But when I saw Eru Somayo guarding the door, and another hunter I didn’t recognize nodding us through to the suite I was sharing with Dominique and Simi, sheer relief almost made me cry.

“Nicholas showed us all why he is the master of the city,” he replied. “Both sides had injuries but no one on our side died. It was like being caught in a whirlwind. I never want to go through that again.”

“And David?”

“Eldritch thought it best to send him somewhere else, with the other hunters. You’re too special to risk and he’s too angry to trust.” He paused, and touched my shoulder gently. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked, as I sniffed, then gingerly sipped the amber liquid that burned its way from my mouth to my stomach. I shrugged and nodded, then handed him back the glass. I jerked my thumb toward my bunk.

As I lay there, I heard them talking in low whispers about my mental health and psychic ability, and how much counseling I would need to recover from my ordeal. I stretched both arms above my head and smiled to myself, relishing my “vampire” abilities while I still had them. Soon, I would go back to being just Caroline, dorky kid in school who tripped over her own feet and was everyone’s first choice for “whose paper to cheat off”.

But now I had something no one else had, or could take away from me. I ran my fingers over my lips and called up the memory of his mouth on mine: the sweet, metallic tang of blood under the mints he devoured to appear less monstrous. I felt him in my head and knew he was close, watching over me, keeping me safe.

“You will come back to me, tiny hunter,” he reminded me and I watched a shadow pass over my window. I sighed, trying not to cry over the things I was sure I would now never learn. I rolled over and bunched up the pillow in my arms and with a start realized there was something under the pillow.

I slid the familiar leather-bound sheaf of parchment out and glanced out the window. Nicholas was close, even if I couldn’t see him. He would never be too far away and once his kingdom was back in order, and I was old enough to choose where I would go, I would see him again.

The End of Book 1

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen