by Elena May
“This is madness,” Tristan said. “The humans I’ve drunk sometimes die. I can’t control it. I am not certain I can stop in time.”
“When you feed off vampires, you only drink a small amount,” Myra reasoned. “I want you to feed off me the way you would feed off a vampire.”
He gave her a long look before a wide smile spread across his face. “Ah. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
She felt as if slapped. “What?”
“Oh, come on. You know you would like to feel what it is like to be a vampire, at least for a moment.”
Myra bit her lip. Truth hurts, she had heard the elderly at the Resistance say. And the truth was, when she had watched Vlad and Armida feed on Tristan’s blood, for a short, treacherous moment, she had wished to know what that felt like. Of course, she would never tell him that.
“You’re way out of line,” she said. “I’m ready to make a big sacrifice for you, and I’m on the verge of turning back. Give me one more reason, and my offer will no longer stand.”
The vampire’s grin broadened. “I know why you want it so much,” he said, his voice smug. “It is because of what I told you, about me and the Prince being one after sharing blood. You think that if I bite you, it would feel as if he is biting you.”
“I’ve listened to this nonsense long enough,” Myra said and turned to leave.
“Come on, you cannot tell me you have never imagined the Prince biting you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, I haven’t. Just because you have such a big crush on Vlad, it doesn’t mean we all do.”
“Forgive me if I have offended you,” Tristan said, though he was still smiling. “Your offer is gracious, and I would be a fool to refuse. Besides, I have always wanted to taste your blood.”
She snorted. “Is that what you say to every girl? Let me give you a hint—this line doesn’t work on humans.”
“A human? Is that what you think you are?” Tristan said. “You are more than that, Myra. You want to find out what darkness tastes like. In that you remind me of someone I used to know a long time ago.”
“You mean your human self?” she asked. “Please, don’t compare me to that creature.”
He grinned. “Why not? I was just like you—a human who was something more. So, what say you? Do you want to be a vampire for a night?”
“Not if I can help it,” she said. “But you need the blood. I can live with that.”
“Great. If you want to do this properly, you have to unchain me. Unless, of course, you are into bondage, which is fine with me. On a second thought,” he added as she reached out with the key, “better leave me chained. I am not certain I can stop myself once I have tasted your blood, and if I am restrained, at least you can get away.”
She shook her head. “I trust you.” The chains fell down with a loud clang.
Tristan stood up straight, even if his legs shook, and gave her a bright smile. “You have no idea how much you remind me of myself, sweetling.” He picked up his loose chain and wrapped it around Myra’s neck like a scarf. She tensed but did not flinch. “Would you like me to chain you instead?”
“First of all, I’m not your sweetling,” Myra said, unwrapping the chain from around her neck. “And second, no thanks. I never saw the appeal.”
He threw her an infuriating grin. “The appeal, my dearest, is something you just mentioned. Trust.” He pulled the chain from her hands and wrapped it loosely around his own. “You chain me up and have complete control over me. I am helpless and at your mercy. You can do to me whatever you want, and yet I am not afraid because I trust you to keep me safe and to make me happy instead of hurting me. I find this vulnerability and full surrender exhilarating.”
“I’m happy for you.” Myra picked the chain from his hands and threw it on the floor. Metal collided with stone, rattling. “But we’re not doing this for your pleasure, and most certainly not for mine. I’m letting you drink me only because it’s necessary for your escape.”
His grin broadened. “I see. Our relationship is strictly business, then.”
She glared at him. “There is no relationship. And there will be no blood drinking either if you don’t behave.”
He bowed shakily. “As my lady commands. But are you certain this is a good idea? What if your friends walk in on us?”
“Everyone is at a meeting at the Headquarters,” she said. “I told Zack I was unwell.”
Tristan frowned. “And you will look unwell after this, I fear, so he will have no trouble believing you story. Let us get to it, then. What is your safe word?”
“What?”
“You know, the word you use to make me stop in case you get too scared or uncomfortable.”
“Umm… how about ‘stop’?”
He laughed. “You are hopeless. Sweet, innocent girl, there is so much you need to learn. Fine, then. My safe word is ‘tiramisu.’ Feel free to use it. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Terror crept into her heart, and she tried to push it away. He would actually bite her. His teeth would pierce her skin and flesh, and her blood would flow out. “Only… I have no idea what to do.”
“Leave the doing to me,” he said. “You should just try to relax and enjoy the ride.”
“Enjoy?” she cried. “You think I’m going to enjoy this?”
“Of course you will, if only you stop being so stubborn. Just close your eyes and pretend I am His Highness.”
“Right now, I feel a strong desire to slap you,” she said.
“Good,” the vampire said. “Next time you feel the urge, just do it.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Myra said and put her hands palms up in front of her as Tristan took a shaky step forward. “Your teeth are clean, right? I mean, I can’t get rabies or something?”
The vampire froze in his tracks, his eyes wide. “Rabies? Seriously? Just what do you think I am?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Myra said. “It’s just that it’s a deep wound, and who knows where your teeth have been recently? I just wish you would at least brush your teeth first.”
“I did,” he said. “Sissi brought me toothpaste and a toothbrush and helped me brush them shortly before you came. But if it makes you feel better, I can wash them with rubbing alcohol, and also wash the spot where I am going to bite.”
“Yes, that would make me feel better,” Myra said. “I’ve brought some with me, for aftercare. I also brought some plaster and cotton.”
Tristan accepted the items she handed him and applied the alcohol to his teeth. “Ew. Spoils the romantic atmosphere, but safety comes first. Although I have to say, I know of a human who suffered vampire bites in far less hygienic circumstances and lived to tell the tale.”
“If you’re again talking about your human self, stop. I’m nothing like him.”
“Perhaps not,” the vampire said and looked at her, his head slightly tilted to the side. A grin spread across his face, small at first but growing wider. How he could grin so broadly and still keep his perma-frown on was something she could never understand. “And now, I think it is time to start with the best night of your life.”
“Will you stop with—” she started, but he cut her off as he grabbed her arms and pushed her against the wall.
“Oh please, stop being so self-righteous,” he whispered in her ear as he leaned forward. “You know you will enjoy it. As will I.”
He was so close now, his ice-cold breath lifting lose strands of her hair and caressing her neck at the spot she knew he would bite. She tensed involuntarily, a mixture of fear and anticipation overtaking her.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to resist biting you?” his low and husky voice sounded in her ear. “I can sense your blood pulsing underneath your skin. I can smell it, feel it, hear it talking to me. Calling me and asking me to take it and make it mine.” He reached out and undid the top button of her shirt, pushing it aside to give himself better access to her neck.
“And I will. For once, I will heed your call.”
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss at the spot at the base of her neck. She tensed, fully expecting the bite, and felt almost disappointed when it never came. Tristan leaned back, smiling in that annoying way of his that made her want to punch him. Next time you feel the urge, just do it, his voice sounded in her mind, and for a moment, she considered it.
She wanted to punch him so much. And she wanted to kiss him, to do this the right way, the vampire way, the way Armida and Tristan had shared blood. Sweet, sweet darkness was right underneath her fingertips. All she needed was to reach out and taste it. She could be just like them. Like a vampire. Strong. Immortal. Sophisticated. Mystical. Larger than life itself.
Myra ran her fingers through his long hair, now tangled and dirty as she had never seen it before, and in spite of the vampire’s teasing, she felt no need to try to imagine this was Vlad. This was Tristan, the ethereally handsome, silver-haired, and painfully annoying vampire, the one who had sat sideways on the Prince’s throne spitting cherry pits on the floor, the one who had ridden with her and faced a bear rather unsuccessfully, the one who had danced with her, who had cried watching Tosca, the one who had sacrificed himself to save his friend, the one who had infuriated Zack so much, the one who had first found her in the Farm and shown her to the Prince. This was Tristan, and at that single moment in time, she desired no one else.
Terrified, she pushed him back. This was Tristan, the murderous bloodsucker, with dark magic running through his veins. We’re not doing this for your pleasure, and most certainly not for mine. She had to get this over with before her resolve broke.
“Bite me already,” she snapped. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
His teeth pierced her skin and sank deep inside. The pain was sharp and brief, nothing more than a pinch, and then her head swam with something new. She was a part of something, something big and old as the world. She felt her blood flowing out of her body and into Tristan’s, mingling with his and becoming a part of him, feeding the magic that kept him alive. And she knew that even when he broke the bite, the connection they had made would still remain, and a part of her would still live inside of him, immortal, until the sun exploded and devoured the last remnants of the earth.
Some dark instinct drove her, and she twisted around to bite him back, even if her teeth never broke the skin. Her nails traveled down his back, leaving long, shallow cuts. She felt his blood on her fingertips, his blood that was now one with hers.
Visions flashed in her mind, light and colors, and she felt rising out of her body and flying far away. She was walking in a village, over lush green grass, the full moon watching from above. Fires burned, engulfing a dozen of houses, the flames risings greedily towards the starry sky. A small piglet, its pink skin scorched, ran through the flames, squealing.
She walked in a desert, the sky above black as tar, the stars more numerous than the grains of sand underneath her bare feet. The freezing night air seeped through her bones, turning her marrow to ice. Whirlwinds caressed the dunes, blowing sands into the air, murmuring a soft song. A hooded vulture descended from the sky, landing next to a lone dead tree and the bloody remnants of an antelope. A bare skull with two long horns lay half-buried in the sand.
She was aboard a ship in a stormy ocean. Waves rose high up, as high as a house, and the ship rocked like a seesaw. A horde of large black rats ran across the deck. Sprays of salty water hit her face, and bolts of lightning split the black sky. Deep beneath the dark waters, something large moved.
She was walking in snow so deep it reached to her chest. Every movement made a crunching sound, as she used her arms to clear the way ahead. A wild beast roared nearby. A figure stood in front of her—a woman, dressed in furs and skins, a long spear in her hand. She faced somewhere in the distance, where a polar bear raised its bloody muzzle from a seal’s torn carcass.
She walked through a vast field of tall irises, bright blue under the moonlight. She picked one, soft as silk and cold as ice, as a cool wind brushed against her cheek. A wolf howled, and a horse galloped before her, its hide a perfect lustrous black, like raven wings. A flock of ravens rose cawing towards the bone-white moon.
Had Tristan seen all this? He had shared a small part of his story, but there was so much more to learn, and she wanted to unveil it all. She was so close to him at that moment, closer than she could get to any human. Her blood flowed through his veins, becoming his. They were one. And then, she wished she could freeze this moment in time, so that it would go on and on and on until the end of days.
It was over so quickly. A whimper of disappointment escaped her lips when Tristan pulled back. “What are you doing?” she said, her hand fisting around several torn blond hairs that had somehow ended up in her fingers. “You need to keep feeding.”
He shook his head. “You can spare no more blood. This is enough.”
“But I’m fine,” Myra protested. “This wasn’t enough for you to feel better.”
“I feel much better.” He pressed a cotton swab soaked in rubbing alcohol against her wound, and she yelped. Her wound stung, fire spreading from the small bite throughout her entire bloodstream, burning, devouring.
She took in a deep breath to control the pain. “It’s not enough to give you strength to escape. And I can spare more blood.”
“You have spared enough,” he said, a firm finality to his voice. “How do you feel?”
“My hands and feet are cold,” she admitted, “but otherwise I feel nothing unusual. I don’t even feel dizzy.”
“This is because you haven’t tried to stand up yet,” he said. “You should do it slowly and carefully. And try to get enough food and water. Chocolate is your friend, if you have any in this dratted place. And take a pinch of salt—it will raise your blood pressure.”
Myra stood up, the adrenaline still preventing any pains from becoming known. “I need to put your chains back on. I’m sorry.”
He smiled. “Let us hope one day you will have the chance to chain me under better circumstances.”
She glared at him. “Why are you making this so hard for me? My decision was already difficult, and you’re not helping by acting like a jerk.”
“I am only trying to help you admit what you already know deep inside your heart,” he said, raising his hands and helping her chain him. “The sooner you stop pretending, the less pain you will feel.”
She grabbed his chin forcefully and tilted his head so that he was facing her. “The sooner you stop talking, the less pain you will feel,” she said and turned back, ignoring the maddening spark in his eyes.
Chapter Six
Fixation
Myra picked at the rat on her plate. No amount of baking could hide the stench. She reached out to her glass of water to wash away the taste—water was all they drank here, scooped up at the underground river and boiled until it was safe.
“I’ve been thinking,” Zack said. “We need to decide who goes on the mission to the Palace.”
Myra swallowed her bite. “I thought it was decided—I go by myself, so we don’t risk any more lives.”
Zack gave her a stern look. “If you seriously believe there’s a chance the Prince would harm my ambassadors, I wouldn’t send you by yourself either. It’s either safe to go, or not. So, tell me, Myra, do you believe the Prince would hurt you or whoever I send?”
She shook her head. “As long as we hold Tristan, he won’t harm anyone.”
“This is complete madness,” said Thomas. “You spent two months as a prisoner there, and now you’re willingly going back and dragging others with you?”
“I trust Myra,” said Lidia. “If she says the Prince won’t harm the messengers, I believe it. I’d be happy to join the mission.”
Myra remembered the reason she had volunteered for her insane mission in the first place—to make sure Lidia, the only person in the Resistance with sufficient medical knowledge besides Dr. Dubois, would be safe. It all see
med like lifetimes ago. What would have happened if she had never volunteered? In all likelihood, Lidia would have been captured and killed after failing the Prince’s tests, and Myra would have continued her life in ignorance.
But it was all different now. This was no suicide mission, and she was indeed certain the Prince would harm no one. She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be glad to have you, if it’s okay with Zack.”
“Very well,” Zack said. “One more volunteer, perhaps?”
“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” Andre said. “General, let me have this chance before I retire.”
“Excellent,” said Zack. “It’s settled, then—the three of you will go.”
Myra’s hand strayed to her collar, which hid her bite wound. Go and do what? Hang out with Vlad and pretend to be negotiating, and then come back and release Tristan anyway? But Tristan was in no condition to escape. He needed to feed at least once more. She had to share her blood once again.
The prospect sounded much less terrifying than before. The pain had been easier to bear than expected, but she was not sure she could face Tristan’s smugness again, or endure his ludicrous suggestions that she would enjoy it. Ever since his capture, she had tried to make him as comfortable as possible, and he had done his best to make her task even more difficult.
“Andre,” Myra said, “I hope you won’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t come to a fight. I’m pretty sure it won’t.”
The elderly warrior laughed. “The optimism of youth. It always comes to a fight.”
The next time Myra entered Tristan’s cell, she found him leaning limply against the wall, but awake. His skin no longer looked ashen and clammy, but Myra doubted he was in any condition to fight or run.
He greeted her with an overly cheerful grin. “Good morning, starshine.”
“You know it’s not even morning,” Myra said. “And ‘starshine’? Is that a vampire thing? I guess ‘sunshine’ would be out as a term of endearment.”
“Exactly,” the vampire said. “The only kinds of light we like are those that come at night. But you haven’t come here to discuss types of illumination, have you?”