Thorns of Fate

by Hayley Todd

  We arrived around 3 PM which was too early for the club to be staffed. We had all ridden together in Damien’s car and he pulled up through the alley to a surprisingly clean alleyway and dropped us off at the rear door. Carson, Anton, and I climbed from the car. Kellic and Will had driven separately.

  I immediately began to feel warmth along my skin, as though I had been out for far too long and was beginning to earn myself a sunburn. Carson noticed my discomfort and whisked me into the shade, leaving Anton standing in the sunlight. He daggered a scorching glare towards Carson before following us.

  I fished my keychain from my bag that had been recovered for me by Kellic and flipped through the hanging keys, snagging the key for the door and twisting it into the lock. The door had evidently been repaired or replaced as there was not a mark of blood and the dint had been removed. The alley made me uncomfortable now, as though I were being watched and I was eager to leave it. I slipped through the door, holding it open only long enough for Carson to pluck it from my grasp and hold it for me. I slipped inside, immediately making a dive for the VIP entrance and loping up the stairs.

  Both men followed closely behind me while I took them two at a time. When I reached the top of the first landing, I met with another locked door. I pulled a smaller key from the ring topped with a red and white painted house and slipped it into the lock. The door swung open and it smelled of new plaster and paint.

  I bounced up this set of stairs, grabbing a blue and white house shaped key ad jamming it in the lock. After so many successions of doors I was beginning to rethink housing security. With a grunt, I rolled my eyes and thrust the door open.

  The inside of my apartment was absolutely stunning. It was decorated in a lot of black, red, white, and chrome and it was modern and perfect. The door swung open to reveal an open floor plan with a kitchen to the left and a bar that butted up to the area for the living room.

  “Anton you can have a seat.” I gestured to the couch. Carson looked at me with an arched eyebrow.

  I didn't respond, simply glancing at him and striding across the room to the door to the left which held the master bedroom. I swung the door open, grinning when I heard it hesitate for another figure before closing.

  I turned, pulling my jacket from me and throwing it across the foot of my gigantic California king bed. Carson stood in front of the door as though he were still trying to ascertain my intentions.

  I gestured to the bed and patted it, indicating he should come sit. The house already seemed like home, even though it had stood empty for months now.

  He slowly and stiffly made his way across the room, sliding onto the bed.

  I made my way to the master bathroom on the other side of the room, unbuttoning my blouse. “He can stay out there,” I said, tossing the blouse over my shoulder and moving on to the button on my pants.

  He couldn't see me from where I stood but I left the door open so I could hear him.

  “I’m going to grab a shower,” I called, shimmying my pants from him hips and letting them pool on the floor. I reached up to unclasp my bra and found that my arms were tight from all of the bed rest, unable to reach at the right angle.

  I immediately had an idea, to both tease Carson, and manage to unhook my bra. “Could you help me for a moment?” I called. I'm not sure it took him an entire second to reach me but he was suddenly there, in the doorway.

  He gasped when he saw my state of dress and immediately turned his head.

  I had to fight not to chuckle at him. I'd just had his blood in my mouth but he couldn't manage to see me in my bra and panties?

  He cleared his throat then stepped forward, his fingers twitching the clasp. He had them undone in seconds, without any struggle. His fingers were warm as they brushed across my back.

  “Thank you,” I said playfully, pulling the straps free and dropping the bra to join my pants without a further word.

  “You're welcome,” he replied, his words sounding clipped and tight.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see that he had returned to his hidden outpost around the corner so I slipped off my panties, cranked the hot water on, and climbed under the steamy flow of liquid. I rubbed the grime and dirt and lingering coma feelings from my skin, embracing how amazing I felt when I was clean and a vampire.

  When I sauntered out, it had occurred to me that I hadn’t grabbed any extra clothes on my way through the bedroom. There was a fluffy black towel folded neatly over a bar affixed to the closet door that I slipped off and pulled around myself. I stepped out of the shower, onto an equally fluffy black floor mat, patting my feet dry.

  I left the bathroom, having never shut the door and made my way to my dresser, a long sleek black wooden piece. I never met Carson’s eyes but I could feel his watching me. After a few drawers had been pulled open, I opted for sweatpants and a tank top, something comfortable. I needed sleep. Like, real sleep. Not I’ve been in a coma for two months, sleep.

  I emerged from the bathroom a second time, my towel hung to dry, dressed in my comfort outfit and running a brush through my hair. I finally looked up at him, no longer pretending I was the only one in the room.

  His eyes were already locked on me before I looked up. He made no effort to appear nonchalant. It almost seemed as though he couldn’t tear his eyes from me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked his voice low and gruff in his chest. I made my way to the couch that sat diagonally from my bed in an alcove that also sported a large flat screen TV. I didn’t glance at him, but heard the springs adjust to weight moving off of them. Then he was beside me. I sat amidst three overstuffed pillows, adjusting them to support me comfortably.

  I glanced at him before responding. He looked rough. I knew it had been days before he had truly relaxed, if not clear back to before all this began. He had dark smudges beneath his eyes and his hair was a mess. “I’m tired,” I responded hesitantly, “but I’m okay. Better after getting cleaned up. You can grab a shower if you want. I’ll wash your clothes if you need me to.”

  He chuckled and roughed his bangs absently with one hand. “Thanks. I could really use a shower. I’m not sure about strutting around naked until my clothes are done though.” He headed toward the bathroom.

  As he neared the door, a thought struck me. Kellic had designed this apartment. There were two additional bedrooms, one filled with some of her items, the other with several of Will’s. Carson and Will neared each other in stature and I could likely find something that fit him in there.

  He stepped through the door and swung it closed behind him with a click. I noticed he didn’t turn the lock, however.

  I turned the TV on, but made my way out into the living room.

  “That’s a cute look for you,” came Anton’s voice from the kitchen. I looked over at him.

  Don’t get me wrong, Anton was handsome, incredibly so. But his arrogant attitude made him less approachable than Carson. He could safely guard me from threats out here, without needing to ever set foot in my bedroom. He was currently helping himself to a bottle of expensive whiskey from my liquor cabinet.

  Taking a hard look at him, I could see his exhaustion beneath his holier-than-thou attitude. He too sported dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked well cared for however, where Carson had looked ragged.

  “Look, here’s the deal,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and turning to him. He cocked an eyebrow and lifted his glass to his lips. “You are my guest. I agreed to this so Damien would let me go home, but I don’t know you.”

  He cut in before I could continue. “You don’t have to know me. I know you. You’re my bride and bearer of my children.” He tipped the drink back nonchalantly.

  I glared at him. “Seriously, dude, cut the crap. I don’t belong to you and you need to stop talking like that.” I left him in a huff, not even caring to explain what I had stopped to say--that he needed to respect my space and do his job like a shadow I didn’t notice.

  There were two doors opposite my own a
nd a long hall that held another bedroom that was all but empty, and a communal bathroom. The door to the right led me to Will’s room. I opened the closet and found dozens of dressy outfits hanging on hooks there. A glance at the contents of the dresser revealed more comfortable looking clothes. I removed a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, and opened the top drawer to reveal three unopened packages. The first was filled with boxer-briefs, the second, low cut socks, and the third a set of black and white tanks. I opened each package with care, sure that Will wouldn’t miss one set from each and assuring myself that I’d replace the packages anyway. I folded everything neatly into a pile in my arms, returned the room to how it had been before I had entered and bee-lined back to my bedroom.

  Carson was still in the shower, washing the room with warm, wet air. I slipped into the bathroom, not turning to the opaque glass behind me. I laid everything out on the counter and went back to the couch without speaking.

  I flipped through TV channels while I sat, not finding anything interesting to watch on daytime television. There were no news reports about the incident in the alley but I did find a missing persons report that made me remember a whispered conversation about two girls…

  “Anything good?” Carson asked. I jumped, cursing myself for having been startled. A look over my shoulder showed me Carson, looking more delectable than he had since I’d first seen him. “Thank you for the clothes,” he said, gesturing at his outfit.

  I would rather see Carson wearing this getup than Will on any day of the week. He had chosen the black tank and grey sweatpants and they hung from him like they were made for him. I could see the muscles along his shoulders and arms and despite it being covered, his abs left enough of an indent to still see through the fabric too. His dark hair was tousled and wet, towel dried but still damp. His spring green eyes were locked onto me.

  I patted the seat beside me on the couch before returning my gaze to the TV. His eyes didn’t leave me but he joined me anyway. “Haven’t found anything good but I’m probably super behind on all of my shows anyway,” I said with a laugh.

  His scent drifted nearer to me as he plopped down on the couch. I could feel heat radiating from him and it was hard not to cuddle up against him.

  My stomach twisted in pain. I leaned forward, pressing my hand to my gut tenderly.

  “You’re hungry again,” he said bluntly.

  I looked up at him and grimaced. “I wasn’t but then you sat down…” I trailed off, realizing how the words sounded as I spoke them. I mentally slapped myself for being uncouth. A grin slid across his face but he smothered it quickly.

  “Damien will eventually have blood delivered here, and it should become one of the normal stops. But in the meantime, I can try to top you up if you’re up for it.”

  I had watched Carson consume blood bags before, refilling from my feedings. It seemed like a very stoic process. He didn’t seem to obtain any enjoyment from them but he didn’t complain either.

  “What if I take too much?” I asked in a small voice. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt him. I was still untrained and it took a great deal of concentration not to lose myself in the draw.

  “Then, I’ll take it back,” he replied with a shrug.

  I looked at him, one eyebrow arched.

  He chuckled under his breath. “As long as we both maintain a pretty even amount of blood, we should both be fine. I’ll be fine with a bit less because I’m used to it. If you take too much, I’ll take some back.” He brushed a finger gently down my cheek. Again, his hand was warm, maybe even warmer than before I had changed.

  I tilted my head into his hand and he cupped his palm over my cheek. “Why are you so warm?” I asked softly.

  “Hybrid,” he responded without further explanation.

  I simply nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Carson leaned onto the edge of the couch, pulling the tank over his head and placing it gently back on the couch. He made a habit of undressing before I fed on him. I definitely wasn’t complaining but I was a bit muffed to know that he thought I’d make a mess. The curves of his abdomen were exposed in the absence of his shirt.

  His gaze was locked onto me. I shifted forward. This had become much easier since I’d finally been able to move. He tilted his head to the side and exposed his neck to me. I hovered over him. He braced his arms around my hips and I gripped his shoulder.

  The fangs were there the moment I pressed my lips to his skin. As always before, my teeth slid easily through and blood welled out. The blossom of cathartic feeling filling my chest got to me every time. I could see how this could become addicting. It was like a drug in and of itself. I moaned, pulling him closer, taking more.

  As I thought about it, I realized this was the first time we had had an almost private feeding. Typically there were several people within hearing distance. This time, we only had to deal with Anton. I was glad for this because I frequently found feeding from him to have an intoxicating allure that would’ve been embarrassing for someone to sit in on.

  His arms had moved higher along my back, his hands twisting fistfuls of my shirt. His lips lingered below my ear while I fed and I could hear every sound they elicited, no matter how hard he fought to keep from making noise. There was no missing the groan of pleasure he exhaled now. He pressed himself more firmly against me.

  You feel...incredible…

  The words leapt unbidden into my mind. Evidently my mind liked to run wild while his lifeblood filled me. I pulled him closer, crushing his chest to mine and feeling his warmth envelope me.

  I felt the instant he stiffened but I couldn’t stop. The ecstasy had built into a pressure that couldn’t be quenched. I thirsted for him, I thrived on him.

  His hands went to my shoulders, fingers digging a little into my skin. “Easy,” he mumbled against my ear. I heard the words. I told myself to stop, but still sucked greedily. “Kyra,” he urged, trying to pry me away from him. He slumped forward, the struggle obviously weakening him.

  And then I felt it. The sharp sting of pain at my neck shocked me at first. The draw felt even more oddly. It didn’t feel bad. Not after the initial jolt of pain. I felt like I was floating. The world no longer seemed to be in focus. A burning desire filled my belly and I didn’t want him to stop. When it seemed I might explode with the all-encompassing ecstasy, he lurched away from me, pulling my lips from his skin at the same time.

  “Dammit,” he hissed, running to the bathroom.

  I still seemed to float distantly, in a far off land, the feeling of him carved into my skin.

  He stomped back into the room, falling to his knees beside me and pressing a wad of toilet paper against my neck. “Dammit,” he cursed again, waiting patiently for the wound to stitch itself back together. The hand not holding my improvised bandage held my face in his palm. He looked me over, his eyes meeting mine though I didn’t feel as though my eyes were locked in the gaze.

  “Kyra,” he urged, trying to draw my attention. He shook my cheek softly.

  My eyes centered, flicking down to his neck and the exhilarating drug hidden beneath his skin. “Hey, come on. I’m here, focus on me.” He almost sounded pleading but my eyes wouldn’t focus on him, my mind blocking out the humanity of this moment. I just wanted more blood.

  “Dammit, I didn’t want to do this,” he murmured leaning back from me.

  The sharp sting of his palm snapped me out of my reverie. I lurched back, my hand clasping at the warm spot of impact along my face. My eyes shot to his and I could already tell they were welling with tears against my wishes.

  He lifted himself on to the couch and scooted closer to me, taking me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. You wouldn’t snap out of it.”

  I sat like that for a long time, puzzling my emotions out in my head. I had never felt anything like that. No drug I had ever heard of had the allure of that. If it did, I didn’t think anyone would ever stop doing it.
Carson cooed over me, mumbling sweet words and apologies until I began to drift off to sleep.

  I was suddenly endlessly tired.

  When I awoke later, it was dark and the ground vibrated gently beneath me with the thump of bass. I was tucked neatly onto the couch, a blanket pulled around my shoulders. Carson sat beside me, watching TV quietly. I was nuzzled into a crook under his arm, my head resting against his chest.

  I was groggy and still felt tired but I needed to find out what had happened. I sat up slowly, and he immediately retracted his arm from its place along my back. He sat a little straighter, letting me sit upright too.

  “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he cooed.

  “W-what happened?” I asked sleepily, rubbing my eyes and stretching. I yawned.

  He looked wide awake. His eyes were lit up and his skin was nice and rosy.

  “You...overindulged,” he replied stoically. Was he mad? I hoped I hadn’t upset him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh, leaning my elbows onto my knees.

  One of his large warm palms stroked my back gently.

  “It’s fine.” He chuckled low in his throat. “I should be better at this. Unfortunately, I overindulged myself. I’m not sure how much I actually helped you.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger to my chin, lifting my face toward the light and looking me over. “You’re a bit paler than I would’ve liked.”

  I ignored his playful teasing, feeling a pit growing in my stomach of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” I said, the words stumbling out. “Did I hurt you?”

  He laughed, a great belly rumbling laugh this time. “No,” he said and tilted my chin to return my eyes to his. “I’m fine. Really. I gave as well as I took.” He tapped my neck just below my ear.

  My hand snapped to the mark, feeling tiny bumps where holes would’ve been.

  “That was...intoxicating,” I murmured.