“The Feast of Valentine?” she says, blinking as if she’s trying desperately to focus on my words so she doesn’t lose herself to panic once more. “We call it Valentine’s Day. There’s no feasting anymore. Except for the chocolate, of course.” Then she smiles and winks. “But you know about that, don’t you, Chocs?”
I grin just enough to show her my fangs, and I growl in satisfaction when I see her go white with the realization that I am a beast born of a darkness she might not believe is real but cannot deny as I sit here before her. “I believe you mock me again, but I will let it pass since I do not care to understand the trivial nature of your insult,” I say with a disinterested poise that comes from a thousand years of life (or death, actually).
“Oh, right, they probably didn’t have Count Chocula cereal the last time you had breakfast,” she says with an earnestness that makes me grin again. “Wait, how does breakfast work for you guys, anyway? I mean, if you wake up at night, then what do you call your first meal?”
I chuckle and shake my head. So much to teach Lady Daisy. “We do not feed every night, Lady Daisy. A little blood goes a long way.” I stretch my arms out wide and straighten my back. “Before last night I had not fed in over three centuries. And look at me. Behold the majesty of my magnificence.”
She rolls her eyes even though I see how she looks at my rippling muscles that have been chiseled over a thousand years, tested by war and famine, tormented by captors and enemies whose bones now line the floor of my lair.
“The majesty of your magnificence,” she says with a chuckle. “Wow, you don’t talk much, Chocs, but when you do say something, it’s a real doozy.” She chuckles again, but I see a softness in her eyes that makes me believe that she is opening up, that this is the way into her soul, the way into her heart, the way to break her will and get her to make the choice that must be made before the sun sets.
I simply need to talk to her.
Get to know her.
Fall in love with her.
After all, that is the meaning of marriage, is it not?
That is the meaning of union.
When I Turn her and make her mine, I will become hers too.
Which means that even as she becomes Vampyre, I will become human.
And to be human is to love, is it not? That has been their weakness. It has also been their strength. And that is the reason fate wants to join the human and Vampyre races.
To create something stronger.
To create something deeper.
To create something never been seen on the Earth.
Never.
Yes, in the glory days of the Vampyre race we Turned many a human. But the monsters we created were twisted beasts, not much more than savages consumed by blood-lust, by a thirst that went beyond the simple need for sustenance and nourishment. The humans we Turned were deranged addicts, killing and feeding with abandon until they were put down by Hunters and sometimes even by the Elders such as myself. They were less than human and less than Vampyre. They were the downfall of the race, the reason the Great Slaughter was needed despite the tragic loss of so many of my brothers and sisters.
Now we have to start again.
Start with a Turning driven by free will.
A mating driven by choice.
A union driven by love.
A love that will create the first Vampyre-Human child to ever walk the Earth.
“A real doozy,” I say, absentmindedly repeating her last words as I catch hazy glimpses of our future together—a future that is still in doubt in the strange, paradoxical way that destiny depends on choice, that fate can be altered by free will.
“That’s what I said,” Daisy says with a firm nod. “A real fucking doozy of a Valentine’s Day.”
5
DAISY
“The Feast of Valentine holds the symbol of the human heart at its center,” Drachus is saying as I feel my body relax on the cold stone floor of this crudely dug crypt or cave. Oh right, it’s a lair. Yup. I’m in a vampire’s lair. Carry on.
“Carry on,” I say, glancing at Drachus’s long fingers and trying not to stare at what look like claws sharp as knives. But they’re clean and polished, almost like he’s somehow taken supreme care of them.
Just like he’s somehow taken supreme care of that magnificent body, it occurs to me as I gulp at the sight of his lean, contoured physique, his broad shoulders and muscled chest. Flowery language aside, this creature is both magnificent and majestic. I hear it in the deep timbre of his voice. I saw it in the way he exploded out of those trees with the swiftness of a panther, seized me with a gentleness that showed off how strong he actually is. Oh, and he was being burned alive as he did it!
“So the part about sunlight and vampires is real,” I say, frowning as I see the burned skin on his shoulder and thighs, the marks on his high cheekbones, beneath his green eyes that I can barely look at without getting hot and bothered. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“I am used to it by now,” he says with a grunt. Then he glances at his wounds and frowns. “This, however, I am not used to. I have not burned like this since I was a child. And even then I healed almost instantly.”
Drachus glances at me, his green eyes flashing as his frown cuts deep. Then he blinks and looks away, almost like he doesn’t want me to read his thoughts.
“What?” I say, not sure why I feel a chill go through me. “What was that? What did you just think?”
“It is nothing. No matter,” he says softly, turning from me and pulling his long legs up against his body and staring into the blackness like he can see something there.
“Um, clearly there is something the matter,” I say, sitting up and blinking as the green glow from Drachus’s eyes seems to fade, making the darkness seem impenetrable. I don’t even know why I’m getting worked up. I mean, why the hell do I even care what Count Chocula is thinking?! It’s not like we’re married or anything, right? Right?
“Ohmygod,” I gasp when it hits me. “You think this is because of me! You think that you got your supermodel-skin all burned because of me! That you aren’t healing because of me!”
“That is a doozy,” he says, his back still to me.
“It most certainly is not a doozy. And can you please look at me when I’m talking to you? It’s totally rude to turn your back on the only other person in the room.”
“It is a lair, not a room,” he says gruffly.
I shake my head and rub my eyes. “Ohmygod, are you sulking? How does that make any sense?! How does any of this make any sense? How does what I’m feeling make any sense?”
I’m a blubbering mess by the time I acknowledge that I feel a bond with Drachus that seems to defy reason, a connection that’s bypassing my brain, throwing my whole sense of intelligence into a tailspin until I don’t know which way is up.
“The human heart,” I manage to say through the gasping breaths I’m taking. “You were saying something about how that’s the central symbol of the Feast of Valentine, that it’s a symbol that’s deeply meaningful to both humans and vampires.”
Drachus turns his head sideways, his strong jaw clenched tight, those green eyes flashing bright once more. He glances at one of his wounds, and I gasp when I see that it actually looks smaller than just a few moments ago. I don’t know what’s happening, but somehow I feel compelled to follow this weird connection, to draw closer to this cold-hearted beast who could snap me in two but is forcing himself to talk to me like this is an awkward first date.
“The human heart,” I whisper, sitting up and somehow managing to get into a cross-legged position and pulling my skirt over my knees like a schoolgirl on the playground. “The source of physical life for humans—and, I suppose, vampires too. Since you guys . . . um . . . feed on human blood.” Then I close my eyes and shake my head. “Ohmygod, you feed on human blood.�
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I feel Drachus turn his massive body toward me in the darkness, and I sense his cold presence cast me in shadow even though there’s no light in the room. Excuse me—lair, not room.
“It is not as bad as it sounds,” he says softly. “Do humans not feast on animal meat and blood? Do they not raise livestock to be slaughtered for the dinner table?”
“I’m a vegetarian, thank you very much,” I say. “But yes. I guess humans do eat meat and I suppose by extension blood. In fact I think there are all kinds of delicacies that are basically cattle-blood in various forms that humans eat. Tribes in Africa. People in Scotland and Ireland. The Aussies. The South Americans.” I cock my head and look up as I suddenly realize how brutal and carnivorous we are as humans! “Huh. Shit, humans are bloodsuckers too, aren’t we?!”
Drachus inches closer in the darkness, and now I can smell his musk. He smells clean, with hints of a deeply masculine fragrance that I can’t quite place. I think back to the stories of vampires—at least the ones I know from movies or whatever. Were vampires supposed to smell like lavender or something? Nope. Those were Saints, actually. Not quite the same thing.
“For centuries the Vampyres lived in the shadows of human society,” Drachus whispers in the darkness, drawing closer still, so close we’re almost touching. “We took only the worst of humanity—the murderers, the rapists, those who preyed on the innocent and vulnerable. We understood that all of us have roles to play in the universe’s ecosystem, that we can fulfill our needs and humanity’s needs at once.”
“Symbiosis,” I say softly, curling my fingers into tight little fists as I realize I want to touch Drachus, to feel his skin on mine, his body against mine, his heart against mine. “Two species coexisting in peace. Each fulfilling the needs of the other in the most natural, beautiful, magical way.”
“Now that is a doozy of an explanation,” he whispers, his eyes burning so bright it lights up the lair in a dark green that makes me shiver down to my toes.
“Why did I ever teach you the word doozy?” I whisper back, feeling myself lean towards him in the most natural, beautiful, magical way, like it’s meant-to-be, ordained by the universe, symbiosis in its purest form.
Then I catch Drachus’s eyes dart down to my exposed neck, and in the green glow of his eyes I see his fangs white as death. They’re dripping with need, and in that moment the tenderness in his eyes disappears and I see the blood-lust clear as the sunlight that burned him.
I recoil in horror, and he growls and snaps his teeth so hard it sounds like a wolf-trap being sprung. Then suddenly he pulls back and shakes his long hair wildly like he’s fighting something inside himself, and a moment later is hunched up and hugging himself and muttering like a freak.
“I am afraid, Lady Daisy,” he whispers, his voice trembling like those words were the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. “I have never been afraid before, Lady Daisy. Not once in a thousand years of existence. I have been through wars and torture, faced death countless times, vanquished enemies with the power to take my life. Not once did I flinch. But I just flinched. I just faced the awful truth that these moments before nightfall are not just about your choices, Lady Daisy. They are about mine too.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper. I’ve pulled back from him, but I’m still sitting on the floor. I’m scared—fuck yeah, I’m scared of what I saw in those eyes for that one dreadful moment.
But the truth is even more dreadful.
Because along with that fear came something else.
A need not to draw back, not to pull away, not to run like hell . . .
But a need to give myself to him.
To let him take what he wants.
Because I know I will get something from him.
Something that will make me become the woman I’m destined to be.
“Remember how I said that the humans we Turned in the past became twisted creatures consumed by blood-lust, deranged by the thirst that natural-born Vampyres learn to control?” Drachus says.
“So you’re afraid that will happen to me if you Turn me?” I say.
Drachus is silent. When he speaks I feel the dread in his voice. “That is part of it, yes. But I believe in the prophecy, I believe in my fate, I believe in my destiny. What I fear is what I felt for one awful moment, Lady Daisy. That I . . . that I . . .”
He trails off, and I nod my head like I understand. “You’re afraid of what you felt when you thought about Turning me, about taking me, claiming me. You’re afraid you’ll hurt me. That you’ll even kill me.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath as I listen to myself speak like this is actually gonna happen, like this is really a thing, really a serious fucking conversation! “What happened to my world over the past day?!” I groan.
“Not just over the past day. It has been happening slowly but surely over the course of your entire life, Daisy,” he says calmly through the darkness. “I saw your memories in the moment we met. I saw the events of your life like a tapestry woven on the fabric of the cosmos. I saw the choices you made—some small, some big—that led you to this place in space, this moment in time, this choice that will change the future of both our races forever.”
“What . . . what are you talking about?” I mumble, feeling his energy try to claw its way into my soul. I grit my teeth and shake my head, but there’s a part of me that wants to let him back inside, wants to give myself to him, open myself to the dark future I saw in his blazing green eyes. “What choices?”
“The choice to never marry, to turn your back on mainstream society, to step off the beaten path and follow your star. To follow your heart, Lady Daisy. Follow your heart to your destiny. Follow your heart to me.”
Without realizing it I’ve drawn close to Drachus once more, and even though it’s dark in his lair except for his green eyes, I swear I feel like something’s changed with the light.
And only when I feel him finally reach for me with those shining claws of dark power do I understand what’s just happened.
Night has fallen.
The sun has set.
The time is here.
And I must choose.
My entire life spins like that cosmic tapestry is being swallowed up by a magical whirlpool, and every emotion I could possibly feel rips through me all at once, drowning me in a dark wave of arousal so fierce I don’t know what kinds of sounds are emerging from my lips.
I see everything all at once, feel the choices of my past and my present all combine into one singular moment of ultimate depth, a moment that could kill me or send me soaring to a world I didn’t know existed.
Somehow I know that the fear Drachus felt was justified. I know he could kill me without meaning to. Hell, he could kill me with meaning to (bad grammar, I know . . . but gimme a fucking break—I’m about to be taken by a thousand-year old vampire on Valentine’s Day).
“Now this is what I call a doozy of a choice,” I whisper in the darkness as Drachus runs a sharp claw down along my cheek, tracing a sinful path down my bare neck until my blood runs cold as ice and then bubbles up to a boil so quickly I almost come in my panties. “A real fucking doozy.”
And then I close my eyes and part my lips, and a moment later everything goes black and then explodes into red, pure red, the red of blood, the red of madness, the red of forever.
Because Drachus kisses me.
By the Saints of Valentine’s Days past, present, and future, he kisses me.
The vampire kisses me.
6
DRACHUS
The kiss makes me see red, and I tighten my grip on the back of her soft neck as I fight to control my blood-lust, a thirst so savage I know it is a test, a challenge thrown by fate to see if I am worthy of the prophecy, to see if I can control my need to feed until it is time to Turn her.
But all I can smell is her blood, and my entire b
ody aches with the thirst until I wonder if perhaps I will break, give in to the urge to sink my fangs deep into her soft neck, drink her dry and lose myself to the darkness that lives in every Vampyre’s heart.
I blink in the darkness as I break from the kiss and stare at the throbbing vein in her beautiful neck. I can follow it all the way down to her beating heart, and I lick her neck and groan as I imagine her sweet warm blood filling me like a drug.
Before I know it my mouth is open wide, my thirst screaming in my head like a siren.
But just then I see that she’s looking at me with those big brown eyes.
Eyes that are wide open and innocent.
Innocent but with an understanding that tells me Daisy just won her own internal battle.
She broke herself, broke down the barriers put up by her intelligence and common sense and human brain.
She chose her heart.
As I must choose my heart.
And now I lean my head back and howl like the beast I am as arousal sweet and true rips through every vein in my body, pushing out the blood-lust and leaving nothing but pure lust, pure need, pure love.
Love driven by the needs of the heart, not the beast.
“I love your heart, Lady Daisy,” I whisper against her lips as I invade her mouth once more, kiss her so deep I almost make her choke. Her taste overwhelms me with a warmth I have never felt in my cold, dark existence, and with a roar I reach beneath her and lift her right up off the ground.
And then I am lost to this feeling of what must be human love, the energy that flows from the human heart, an energy that is now part of me just like soon I will be a part of her.
“You love my heart?” she mutters, her red lips trembling as she forces a smile through her arousal. “Um, OK. If that’s as close as we’re gonna get to a real I-love-you, then I’ll take it.”
I grin so wide my jaw hurts, and then I kiss her again with a fury that’s driven by unbridled joy. I push her up against the rough walls of my lair, placing my big hand behind her head so she does not get hurt. Then my ancient claws are up her skirt, my long fingers gripping her buttocks with such force she screams and thrashes against the wall.
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