by Nikki Sex
Millicent doesn’t crack a smile.
Whoa. Tough audience.
No problem, I’ve met tough cases before. In no hurry, I keep talking. She’s super powerful, or she wouldn’t have been positioned as she was, near me in the pentagram. Now aware of her wild creature connection, I assume my kinship with animals would be the best approach.
I start with the basics—the story of my life. I describe Toby, tell her I’ll bring him here so they can pal around. I talk of my love of Stafford, how she’ll like him, as he’s the Beast Lord and a lycanthrope.
While I speak of my inner wolf, I don’t tell her of my personal demon. Only Stafford, and my Jugulo know about him. That’s the way I like it.
Even without a single reaction, I know she’s listening. I describe different kinds of wereanimals—her eyes glitter at the mention of horses. I explain about my father, our genetic connection, how I asked Leonidas to make her a vampire.
“So you see, you and I are family. How could I let you die?”
Millicent says nothing.
I don’t judge or grumble at her silence. Instead, I project acceptance. Approval. The poor woman has had enough bullshit in her short life.
An image of Porter, the former P.A. of the acting Regius Magnmus comes to mind, along with his last words: “You said I was safe! We gave you our daughter as payment for protection! She was young! Nubile! You agreed her dormant magic was enough for your needs! You said it didn’t matter she was ugly! You promised!”
If he hadn’t been karmically sliced and diced, I’d have wanted to kill him myself. What kind of dad does that?
“You know, I saw your father die,” I say conversationally. “He was a self-centered asshole, I don’t expect you’d miss him. The last thing I heard him say was that he intentionally sacrificed you to an enemy. He did it to save his own neck, and that of your mother. Christ, Millicent. You sure were unlucky in the parent department, weren’t you?”
Her statue impersonation is amazing.
I keep talking. “So, anyway,” I finally finish, “that’s how you ended up next to me in the center of that vortex.”
Leonidas and I sit through a long silence. As if carved in white marble, Millicent doesn’t move, nor does she utter a single sound.
Chapter 12.
“This is a large part of our problem.” He glares at the woman behind bars. “Millicent, why do you refuse to communicate with me? You fight everything. The least you can do—what you need to do—is ingest blood.”
“Er…who or what does she eat?”
Leonidas raises a brow, angles his head toward me. “She lives on my essence which is customary, but she resists nourishment as long as possible. Millicent needs to drink regularly and often. My blood-bond offered his vein, but she refused the detective.”
“Wow. I assumed newly made vampires were feral killers. Don’t they tend to drain everyone with a heartbeat to death for the first year or two?”
“After transition that is usually the case, but again,” he gestures frustratingly toward Millicent, “this single-minded young woman is not typical. Millicent seems to think that if she sincerely believes she’s human, then it will be enough to make it true. To live, vampires must consume blood magic—the essence of the soul. It is what we are.”
“Huh. A vampire with an eating disorder.” I can’t stop my tactless snicker. “Puts a fresh twist on anorexia.” With a sudden thought, I sit up straight. “Hey, do you think she’s feeding on her visiting bird pals?”
“No. Millicent does not feed from birds, mice, or any other wild animals that visit her cell. Only small ones gain entrance. Outside, I have seen lynx, moose, and wolverine come to her window. Sensing me, she warns them to run and hide when I am close.”
Broadly grinning, aware she’s listening, I conspiratorially lean toward her. “That’s totally awesome! Good for you, Millicent. I absolutely adore my dog. Sometimes animals are better than people, don’t you think? They’re loyal. You can trust them.” I shrug. “People? Not so much.”
I rise to my feet. “Leonidas and I are going upstairs. We need to talk about you, rather than to you. Grownups shouldn’t deal with their shit in front of a child, and you are a child, Millicent. A vampire child. We need to discuss how to help you accustom yourself to your new circumstances.”
Back upstairs, now I’m pacing. “Leonidas, have you ever known anyone with the power of calling animals?”
He shrugs. “No. Animal telepathy would be an earth gift for a witch or were, perhaps. Vampire powers are electric.” He sighs. “We are more compatible with objects, or the dead—not living, earthy energy.”
Makes sense. Vampires can be sorcerers, not witches. Only witches and shamans speak with the spirits of living plants and animals. I wish I’d been able to make Millicent a shifter. She’d have made an amazing werewolf.
“Wait—her father thought Millicent’s powers were dormant. Are you saying she was a witch before you turned her?”
“Very likely.”
“Shouldn’t vampirism cancel out her earthly powers?”
“Yes.”
Grinning, I stride into the kitchen, take O.J. out from the fridge. Leonidas pulls a glass from the cupboard, pours the juice, hands it to me. I’m not thirsty, but I drink it for the extra energy.
Energy I’ll need if Millicent agrees to feed from me.
“You can’t feel what she feels through the link you share?” I ask.
“Very little.”
The way he says these two small words hits me like a sucker punch to the gut—I sense such raw emotion behind it. Self-disgust? Humiliation? Sadness? Leonidas fears he screwed up, but what do I know? Maybe he has.
His back to me, my vampire stares out the window at the meadow. Indirect sunlight doesn’t bother him in the least.
“I am her sire.” His tone is emotionless, aloof—but to me, he’s clearly upset. “Even if she hates me, I should be able to bond with her, or at least compel her obedience. The ability to bespell one’s child is the natural result of a sire’s enchantment.”
“You don’t want to compel her, not after what you went through when you were newly turned.”
He spins to face me, a sad smile curving his lips. “True.”
“I like you better for that.”
His eyes soften. “I know.”
Amused, I laugh. Leonidas knows I understand him. Once, he found this personal exposure disturbing. Too personal. Too intimate. Now, he’s pleased by our connection.
Before I came along, I think he was lonely.
Despite appearances, there’s a deep well of rage hidden within my poor vampire. I believe his conscience beats at him mercilessly, telling him he’s worthless.
Evil.
Irredeemable.
For over a thousand years, Leonidas has kept away from others. Unfit for company, he’s protecting everyone from himself. Or is it a form of punishment?
Denial has been his greatest survival mechanism—that and his purpose of demon hunting. Otherwise, I suspect he’d throw himself into an unwinnable battle. He’d die to rid the world of his presence.
People are like icebergs—they only show parts of themselves they’re comfortable viewing. This is also true of those with magic running through their veins.
Under the deep waters of their subconscious is an ocean of painful, hidden memories. Thoughts and emotions hidden away—shame, guilt, and secret fears. Rage and hate for themselves and others.
Every unspeakable taboo.
Each unviewed truth.
Then something happens and they’re amazed by their own reaction.
Gradually, Leonidas—unemotional iceberg that he is, seems to be melting.
“OK.” I sigh. “Well, don’t take this brief setback personally. Millicent is part fae, no wonder she’s unique. So what? Vive la difference.”
“No! For a newly created vampire, diversity is dangerous. If she doesn’t drink more, and more often, she will sicken. She could perish.
” He pauses, his face darkens. “Worse, I fear she wants to die.”
“Just as you wanted to die when you were first turned?”
His staggeringly blue eyes regard me, hard and cold as ice. “Yes.”
I nod. “Look, we have to get her out of that depressing cell. Give her a bedroom—a space of her own. Maybe attach some sort of long, vampire-proof restraint to her ankle so she can go outside with her animals. Who is she going to hurt here, miles from civilization?”
“My blood-bond, John.”
“Oh.” That sobers me. “Good point. Well, you’ll take precautions. Besides, she refused to drink from him, anyway. All evidence confirms the woman has an unbelievably strong will.”
“That she does.”
“You need to gain her trust. After all she’s been through, why should she trust anyone? Hell, even her own parents threw her away.”
“You have a point.”
“God, she needs a shower and some decent clothes. Let’s figure out how to make her life more normal—that damn dungeon is anything but normal. I’ll go to the pound and find her a dog that needs love—that’ll help. Toby always cheers me up. Do you think she’d drink from me?”
“Perhaps.”
“Would you have any objection to me offering her a vein?”
“I would appreciate it.”
“You aren’t afraid of what might happen?”
“I will keep you safe.”
We wander back down to her dungeon quarters, sit near the bars. “Look, Millicent, you are a vampire. I’m sorry, but we can’t change that. You need to drink blood to live—you don’t want to die, do you? Why not live and spend your whole life with animals? You like them.”
Again with the I-am-a-statue-no-reaction response.
“Will you drink from me?” I move closer, place my arm between the bars of her cell.
I get a quick impression of extreme hunger as the young woman blurs toward me. With vampire speed, she grabs my lower arm with cool fingers. I grit my teeth as Millicent’s fangs pierce the cephalic vein inside my elbow.
Fucking ouch!
It’s excruciating! Christ, how soon before she learns how to make her bite pleasant? Who would offer plasma when it fucking hurts like this? My demon’s happy, though. He loves the sensation of pain.
On the sheer agony scale, due to my eventful past, this is a walk in the park. As Millicent drinks, my arm aches like a rotten tooth. Still, thanks to my inner demon’s kinky love of agony, the sucking sensation becomes sensual.
Blood magic, hot, fresh, alive, increases our connection. Sparks of heat move through my body. Waves of pain, surges of pleasure. Nothing orgasmic, but damned close.
With an inner demon, torture can be seductive as hell.
Profound emotions arise within me, the suppressed edges of her feelings. Fear, suspicion, confusion, doubt. I manage to pick up one definite thought. To Millicent, everything that’s happened is all part of a complex plan to screw with her.
Just what kind of mindfuckery did her family put her through?
Thanks to my demon’s humming pleasure, my head spins. I feel intoxicated, a little faint, and seriously giggly.
I keep the metaphysical bridge between Stafford and I closed. The man’s busy, I don’t want to distract him—especially when feeling giddy. Still, I can’t wait to tell him about Millicent. It’s fun coming home and having someone to share my day with. Someone who knows me, who loves me. Before I met the Beast Lord, even surrounded by people, I was lonely.
What will Stafford say about the vampire who drinks blood, but refuses to believe she’s a vampire. Could anything be crazier?
“That’s right, Millie baby,” I murmur, after a minute or two. “Us girls with shitty, sacrifice-their-daughter fathers, have to stick together.” Feeling stupidly affectionate, I stroke her tangled, brunette hair.
Like some wild, forest creature, she recoils, instantly springing backwards. I wince as her fangs tear my flesh.
Leonidas pulls me away, my back against his chest. Taking my arm, he licks my wounds to seal them, heal them. I feel his deep pleasure as my essence rolls over his tongue.
Through our bond, I taste how I taste, to him. To my vampire, my blood is a rare, rich, preternatural delight.
Thanks to Leonidas, the fang marks on my arm disappear.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice composed despite the throb of exultation pulsing from my inner monster.
Fucking demons! They have a thing for blood.
I regard Millicent, meet her dark gaze. “Thank you for feeding from me. Leonidas has been worried about you. You were only put in this dungeon because new vampires tend to accidently drink humans to death. You, however, seem to have remarkable control. Your sire has decided to get you out of this shit hole, and give you a room in his house. You’ll be able to go out at night to hang with your animal friends.”
No response—big surprise.
“Hey, Millicent, nod or something, will you? You don’t have to talk. For all we know, you’re mute. Just give me a sign. Would you like to leave this cell? To be allowed outside, free to be with your creatures?”
Millicent blinks.
Takes a shallow breath.
Very, very slightly nods.
I respond with a warm, heartfelt smile.
The French have a charming phrase concerning the virtues of patience and perseverance. “Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid.” Translated, it means: “Little by little, the bird makes its nest.” Considering Millicent’s pet starlings, it seems apropos.
A blink, a breath, and a nod.
It’s not much, but it’s a start.
Chapter 13.
Upstairs once again, Leonidas offers me a packet of salted cashews, pours another glass of O.J. Because he has a human blood-bond, he keeps his pantry well-stocked.
“Thank you for your help with Millicent,” he says, appearing more himself.
“Anytime.” I chew, swallow some nuts. “But you would’ve figured it out.”
He crosses his arms, leans against the door frame. This casual pose doesn’t fool me. Emotionally, I feel him twisted up inside. He’s tight as a coiled spring.
“I had no insight as I Made her,” Leonidas explains. “I focused on her aberration as my fault—my terrible failure. In fear and frustration, I resorted to coercion. I strained to make the bond work.”
Despite my concern for him, my lips curve into a lighthearted smirk. “Just like people, magic doesn’t respond well to force.”
I’d hoped to lighten the mood with this quip, but no luck. Absently, I pop another handful of nuts in my mouth, chew, swallow, and sip my O.J. while I gather my thoughts.
My tormented Jugulo was forced into lifetimes of vampire servitude as an empath and torturer. He escaped that slavery by jumping straight into the Demon Hunter’s Guild, murdering human hosts for the “common good.”
Proud, arrogant, isolated. My vampire’s single purpose had been hunting, hurting, and killing. It was all he knew.
Until I collared him, Leonidas separated himself from everyone and everything—including his own past. His heart had been empty, his soul cold.
Yet, now he’s confiding in me!
Amongst my vampire’s constant entourage of ghosts, one stands out—Leonidas’s eight-year-old lifeless brother. Olive skin, black hair, blue eyes, Leonidas’s identical twin wears a rough tunic and leather “gladiator” sandals that crisscross in straps up his calves.
That damn kid.
Floating beside his brother, hand on Leonidas’s shoulder, his twin stares at him with silent tears streaming down his cheeks. By the set of his face, from the look in his eyes, this loyal, ghostly sibling loves his brother.
I swallow at the lump in my throat, holding back my own tears.
Leonidas offers me a slight smile. “Millicent was so still, so controlled, and quiet. I did not see she was in shock and suffering—I didn’t look. This was never about my inexperience as a sire, it was about her
. The poor woman was taken, kidnapped, made to suffer, then Made vampire, a deadly, paranormal predator. Thoughtless, insensitive, and incredibly foolish of me.” He shakes his head. “I’m not used to failing.”
I down the juice. “Welcome to my world,” I snort. “Screwing up is no big deal. Failure builds character, right?”
Straight faced, he says nothing.
“Anyway, Millicent shouldn’t have any complaints. She’s alive, isn’t she? You’re too hard on yourself, buddy. You did a good thing, it’s working out fine. Thanks for saving my cousin.”
“You are most welcome.”
I grin, then I frown as I remember something. “I did pick up a really weird thought from her though.”
He lowers his arms, stands up straight. “You heard her thoughts?”
A flash of rage and jealousy crosses his features, two emotions he suppresses so rapidly, I doubt he’s even aware of feeling them. Some new power has him in its thrall—the magical bond between a vampire and his child must be greater than I originally supposed.
I clear my throat. “I’m not her sire, I only heard one thought due to blood magic—it’s a demon thing. Anyway, technically, Millicent wasn’t taken—she was given away. Sacrificed by her parents. What a betrayal. And here’s the kicker—she isn’t sure if she’s truly a vampire. In her mind, this is all part of an elaborate plan to mess with her head. Isn’t that bizarre? Her family must have done a serious number on her.”
His expression is incredulous. “She doesn’t believe she’s a vampire?”
“Let’s just say she has serious doubts. Sorcerers!” I snap derisively, running a hand through my hair. “Without any power, she’s the black sheep—a family scandal. I’m an only child, but I’ve heard older siblings torment younger siblings. Maybe they ganged up on her to practice their enchantments on the psychically blind normal.”
“I was given to believe that human families were protective of each other.”
In view of the recent clash with my father, I laugh humorlessly. “Family is a strength or a weakness. Some believe happiness is a large, close-knit family. Other people believe that’s true,” I laugh, “as long as their family lives in another city, preferably on the other side of the country.”