by Anna Katmore
“What was—?” My words break off with a tiny squeak as he whips around and pushes me backward against a street lamp. He winds my arms around the pole and manacles my wrists behind it with the tie. “Hey!” I blurt into his face while his body is flush with mine. He looks over my shoulder, watching his fingers. “You can’t do this! Let me go. Now!”
Quentin looks me sternly in the eye. “No.”
“What—? But—”
“Abigail!” Boy, he can sound strict when he says my name. “If I leave the choice of my donor up to you, I’ll end up with a raccoon or a duck before the night is over.”
“That’s not true!” My eyes narrow to sulky slits. “I wouldn’t ask you to feed on an animal. Just from a nice—” When I break off, he arches one eyebrow, waiting. “Man…” I mumble, gaze lowered.
Seconds pass until he finally steps back and sighs. “Why does it make such a big difference to you whether I drink from a girl or a guy?”
Feeling a sharp pain in my chest, I lift my chin. “Why does it to you?” I would stab a finger at him if I weren’t tethered to a lamp. And the knot is tight.
He studies me as if struggling to find the last piece to this crazy puzzle that scares me as much as it confuses him. His look makes my cheeks burn, and I lower my gaze once more.
“I drank from girls for over two decades,” he mutters, starting to pace in front of me. “Fuck, I don’t even know how a guy tastes.”
As if that were an adequate excuse. But Quentin’s right. Who am I to tell him who he can and can’t eat? Just because he learned a little more about being a vampire in the last few days doesn’t mean he wasn’t a bloodsucker for the past twenty years. And he had to drink from someone during that time. It’s not like he just started doing it with me.
Quentin leans against the wall opposite me. “What do you expect from me, Abby?”
Glaring at the dent in the pavement between us, I mutter, “Nothing. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
He’s in front of me so fast and pressing his body flush to mine that I gasp. With one arm propped against the pole above my head and the other at my hip, he growls in my ear, “If that was true, I’d already be at your neck.”
His warm breath on my skin gives me pleasant shivers, and the bats come out to play in my stomach again. I swallow.
He’s waiting for me to say something—probably anything to allow him to bite me right here and now. But I don’t want that… At least, I think.
A male voice uttering a question in Romanian breaks into our moment. Quentin lifts his head. “Go away,” he snarls at the young man in the gothic coat, his black hair hanging in long, greasy strands down to his shoulders. To him, this must look like Quentin is harassing me, and he’s obviously coming to my rescue. I give him a grateful smile before he heads off, certainly due to a mind command from the vampire and not because of Quentin’s actual words.
But then Quentin suddenly shouts, “No, wait.”
My gaze darts back and forth between them while Quentin rakes his hands through his hair, his face lined with disgust. The young man holds out his arm, pulling the sleeve of his leather coat back. Quentin sends me a hard look before he lays his mouth on the wrist of the goth guy and sinks his teeth into his pulse point.
Yuck! I turn my head away, squeezing my eyes shut. I certainly didn’t see that one coming.
Quentin can’t have taken more than one, maybe two draughts of blood from the guy, because the entire creep show is over within seconds. The young man lets his sleeve back down and strides off into the night without another word. In the meantime, Quentin steps behind me and eases the knot. I rub my wrists when I’m free again, and he pockets the tie. Then we head back in silence the way we came. We both have a lot to think about.
But every now and then, my glance briefly moves to him. I can’t believe he really just did that—drank from a man for the first time in his life. Because of me. And the effort it must have taken…
“Did he not taste well?” I quietly ask after some time, daring to keep my shy gaze on him.
Quentin just cuts me a quick look and then wrinkles his nose. “He tasted like licking on rusty old metal.”
“Oh.” Probably not the best taste in the world then. Our footsteps are the only thing accompanying us while my thoughts run through all sorts of possible human flavors. A minute later, I murmur, “Fortunately, he didn’t taste of rotten cheese. Now that would have been really bad.”
Quentin chuckles, which draws my gaze back to him. Once again, I find him so very intriguing. He’s a fathomless universe to me, powerful, gentle, and sometimes just a little bit uncanny.
His earlier description of my mind was beautiful. Now, I wonder what his take on my flavor is. “What do I taste like?” I ask with a low, careful voice.
His gaze switches to my side as his face splits with a smirk. “You, little warrior,” he says and drapes his arm around my shoulders, “taste like the sweetest cookie in the world.”
I smile the entire way home as we stroll together.
Chapter 24
Holy bat shit
Quentin
I know why Abby didn’t want me to bite another girl tonight. Or at least I think I do. But this is a really, really bad idea. Relationships between vampires and humans can’t work. There’s the aging issue, the daylight thing, and then we return to completely opposite parts of the world when her vacation is over, and my wolf problem is solved.
A small part of me actually regrets all of these things. Honestly. Abby feels good tucked under my arm. Her cookie-like scent is tempting, but I’ve found that I enjoy her company even more than her blood. Her friendship. I’m not going to ruin this—not with a bite and not with a summer fling.
Still, I can’t believe that I let her talk me into drinking from a guy. That was a nasty experience. Ugh. Sure, his blood is no less nourishing than any girl’s, but biting a man to get it is so not my thing. And his mind was a really crazy place. To connect with Abby, I had to mentally walk across a flowery meadow. To connect with the goth wannabe felt like sticking my head into a microwave.
I better head out alone tomorrow night. Abby doesn’t need to watch me feed if she can’t handle it. But for now, I’m full, and it’s late. I should take her home. With all the time she’s spent in the dark with me recently, she’ll soon turn into a vampire herself.
As we cross her garden, my arm slips from her shoulders. “Wait here,” she whispers, quietly opening the front door. “I’ll get your phone.”
Right. Not that it’s much use anymore, but at least the music will chase away the silence during the lonely hours in the castle. While Abby heads upstairs through the house, I take the shorter way to her room up the apple tree. Her window is wide open. I settle on the same branch as the last couple of times and wait for her to come through the door.
She laughs when she turns on the light and sees me outside. “Miss me already?”
“Mm-hmm, little bit,” I drawl playfully and stretch my arm.
Abby unplugs my broken cell and walks closer. Holding it out to me, she stops just out of reach and tilts her head.
“What?” I demand when she so obviously hesitates.
She bites her bottom lip. “Would you like to come in?”
My eyes grow wide, and I freeze on the branch. A small, shy smile softens her face. It warms my chest. Cautiously, I reach out past the invisible barrier that barred me from her room until a moment ago. My heart beats a little faster as my fingers close around the phone, touch hers, and linger. “Goodness, Abby. You just gave up your last bit of protection from me.”
“I don’t think I need protection from you,” she whispers.
Finally able to return her warm smile, I step through the window and down from the sill. Abby drops her hand. The cell phone disappears into my back pocket, and then I take a second to glance around the room. It’s bigger than it looks from the outside. Not much, but a little. Her bed looks cozy, and her closet door stands hal
f open, a summer dress the color of red wine hanging there. Sweet.
Only the faint note of garlic lingering in the air will keep me from staying here too long. Abby’s grandmother must have been taking the pills for years, contaminating the entire house. Outside is definitely better.
But being inside Abigail’s room is awesome. I lower to her bed and lean back against the wall, half lying across the mattress, feet still on the ground. “You have a cozy place. Where do you keep the stakes, little warrior?” I tease her.
“Right under there.” Grinning, she nods at her pillow and then settles down in the same way I did next to me.
I narrow my gaze at her, suspicious. Would she really? Too curious to let it pass, I reach over her, getting quite close, and lift the blue-patterned pillow at one corner. “Damn!” There it is—the makeshift pale I gave her the first night I came here.
Abby giggles. “Souvenir.”
“I should give you a souvenir on your neck,” I drawl into her ear before I lean back again and let my head turn to the side. Our faces are just inches away from each other. Gingerbread. I love the color of her eyes, especially when they gleam with a little bit of mischief. The light blush on her cheeks complements them perfectly. I lift my hand and stroke the rosy color away with my knuckles…or rather make it worse. Abby lowers her gaze. She’s unspeakably cute when she gives in to her shyness.
I leave my hand where it is and slide my fingers under her chin, making her look at me again. “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I whisper.
Abby nods and then answers, “Thanks for…hmm…you know—”
Yes, I do. I smile. And suddenly, my gaze drops to her beautiful lips, and I really, really want to know what they taste like.
I inch forward, shoving my hand behind her neck and into her silky, black-and-blue hair. Just a tiny kiss. That won’t destroy anything, will it? Our friendship is strong enough to withstand that.
Or is it? I promised her not to take advantage of her, ever. That also means I shouldn’t mislead her when there’s no chance for more. After everything I learned about her since she came to the castle for the first time, she’s not a girl for a short adventure. Abby is the full package—heart and all. It’s something I’ve started to love about her, almost as much as the color of her eyes. And it scares me…
“Abby—” I rasp. God, this girl is pure temptation. But I find the strength to straighten and sigh. “I have to go now. I can smell your gran through the walls.”
The shy but understanding look she sends my way promises that I didn’t damage anything yet—and that she would have loved me to go through with that kiss. Yeah, little warrior, I would have loved it, too. “Sleep tight, Abigail.”
She sits up while I climb from the bed and head to the window. Passing the dark red dress on the way makes me halt in my tracks, though. Neither of us got what we longed for on her bed, but there’s something else I may be able to give her. I slide a glance over my shoulder. “Wear that when you come to the castle tomorrow.”
As I climb through her window, her soft “goodnight” follows me.
“Come before nightfall,” I add. “Your grandma is right, you shouldn’t be out alone at night. I’ll walk you home when you get tired of me.” Which I hope won’t be too soon. “And stay away from the woods.”
I jump from the tree and land quietly in the grass below. Then I look at her window. Abby stands there, hands on the frame and cheek pillowed against them. She looks lovely. Dreamy. I wonder where her thoughts are. Smiling, I wink and sneak out of her garden.
After turning onto the dirt road to the castle, I start a gentle jog up the hill until the godawful groan of some animal in the forest stops me. What the hell? I spy into the shadows, but whatever it is, is covered by the trees and too far away to make out. Because the sound is really painful, I take a detour to see what suffers so terribly over there.
Leaves and twigs rustle under my feet as I track the bellow deeper into the forest. The moonlight is faint in this part, but it doesn’t matter. Back to my full strength and senses, I can see everything as clearly as if it were in bright light. I smell blood. It’s definitely not human, because it bears a particularly leathery note, but the reek of wet dog lingers in this place and makes the little hairs on my forearms stand at attention. I pick up a solid branch from the ground, gripping it tightly as a weapon. My every step is cautious.
The heart-wrenching wails get louder the farther in I walk. And then slender, furry hind legs stick out from behind some hazel bushes. I rush over and find the stag that startled me the other night half-dead on the ground. His rump is torn open, blood and innards oozing out. Fucking hell!
I’m usually not squeamish, but the sight makes me nauseous. There’s no chance he’ll ever recover from this. In fact, it’s a wonder he’s still alive.
I spin, taking in everything around me within a millisecond, but we’re alone. Whoever ripped this animal apart has either fled or made himself invisible. The stag gives another soulful groan. My throat clogs in sympathy for the poor thing. Dropping the stick, I hunker down by the deer’s mighty antlers and stroke his forehead. “Hey, buddy…” Pain reflects in his big black eyes. Taking a deep breath and planting one knee on the ground for balance, I grab his head and jerk it around so fast the neck snaps with an eerie crack. Instantly, all his muscles loosen, and the liquidy pupils turn dull.
Gently, I bed his head on the moss and skim my fingers through his reddish fur. “Rest well,” I whisper.
A sad sigh leaves me as I rise, still looking down at the once-proud king of the forest. He may have escaped a deadly predator the last time we faced off across the meadow. But tonight, he met his match.
With hanging shoulders, I turn around—and then my head snaps up at a sudden sound. A beast rushes at me through the trees. Panting. Roaring. All I see is fangs and fur, and it moves so fast that I don’t have time to pick up my weapon or even run. “What—?”
The world goes up in a shower of sparkles, and suddenly, I can see everything from above. Panicked, I row my arms to keep my balance wherever I am. No, wait, they’re wings now, not arms. Creepy, leathery bat wings. For blood’s sake, not this shit again!
Hysterically flapping, I struggle to keep out of reach of the giant wolf that jumps and snaps at me with a furious snarl. My heart goes rattattattata inside my much too small body, and I feel nothing like myself. If one can stumble through the air, that’s what I do, fighting for every meter. Up, left, diagonally forward, I don’t care which way, as long as it’s away from the salivating beast that could swallow me whole.
A nasty bit of tree nearly pokes out my eye. Fuck, that hurt! Half blind, and the worst bat-body pilot in the world, I creep toward the sky, out of the forest, and then go even higher. Panic keeps my wings constantly juddering. My tiny lungs work like a pair of bellows.
Thank goodness the castle is before me. Navigating in this missile is like trying to steer a tree through a labyrinth. The keep comes closer fast, but the door and all the windows are shut. Crap, how do I get inside?
I try to hover two feet above the ground in the garden and strain to change back into myself. But this feature didn’t come with a handbook, and I have no idea how to do that. Because I don’t want to play bat bait for any predator sneaking in through the iron gate, I flap my wings faster to gain height. After some clumsy circling, I land at the pinnacle of the castle’s highest tower. Lying flat on my stomach on the cold, black shingles, I dig my ugly little claws in to hold on tight. “Help!” I want to scream, but all that comes out is a hiss and screech that would likely make me wince if I were human.
Anyway, I doubt anybody will come and spread a safety net down below for me, even if they heard me yelling for help. Sure, I’m a big guy, but right now, I want to bawl like a kid.
Hard to say how long I cling to the shingles, fearing for my life. If I don’t get down soon and find a way into the castle, sunlight will fry me up here. The wolf might like that—crisp bat for bre
akfast.
Loosening first one little claw and then the others, I slide down to the edge of the roof and poke my head over it. The castle garden is quiet. Empty. It doesn’t look like the beast followed me here. And I can’t smell it either. Okay, it should be safe to glide down and land in the grass. From there, I can figure out the next step, because trying to change back into a human on the steeple is probably the worst thing I could do.
I haul myself over the edge and instantly begin to row with my arms, flapping my wings. My approach for a landing is a game of pure chance. I drop into the grass near the stone well behind the castle when I really aimed for the front door. At least, I didn’t make a precision landing inside the thing and drown.
For endless minutes, I struggle, press, convulse, and jerk, but my new creepy body doesn’t let me escape. Damn, I’m Batman. Going for a different strategy, I try hard to calm down and find my inner candle. It worked with the fire, and it helped get me into other people’s minds. Maybe it’ll turn me back now.
At least, I hope. Still, nothing.
I haul myself closer to the stone curve of the well and prop against it, letting my wings hang. My gaze skates across the yard. Little things rustle everywhere. Bugs, snails. Shit! There’s a rat over there! A squeaky hiss leaves me as I zoom up into the air again. Okay, flying has certain advantages, but I want to get the fuck out of this shell and become myself again. How the hell did I do it last time?
Oh, right. I didn’t. That was all Abby. And to do it, she smacked me against a wall.
Balancing myself in the air, I focus on the castle door and give it some serious thought. Worth a try, right? Could—no, would definitely—hurt. And it might be a stupid idea. But, hands down, I’ve done so many stupid things in my life, this doesn’t even make the top twenty.
Jaw set, I drag my brows—or whatever a bat has—into a determined frown and race toward the door. God help me! I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the—