by Cece Rose
“Do you really think that's a good idea?” I question him, being blunt with my scepticism.
“I can sleep on the sofa in here,” he offers. His eyes are languorous in their perusal of me. “That is, if you want me too,” he adds. His words tempt me, but remembering what happened last time I stayed here, I know I can’t. I’m not sure I possess the strength to pull away from him a second time.
“Look, we've been over this,” I begin to retort. Feeling defensive, I stand up straight and cross my arms over my chest, as if my feeble arms could keep him at bay or hold me back from him.
“Yes, we have. I told you then, Kayla, and I'll tell you again now. You are what I want, and I know you want me too. You've admitted that much. This is my risk to take, and I am willing to take it. I’ve stepped back, I’ve given you time, because you needed it. But do you understand how hard I fight myself to remain at a distance when I know you want this too?” He steps closer to me, and I struggle to hold my ground.
“It's my decision, and I choose not to hurt you,” I reply, meeting his eyes as I try to project my resolve and determination through mine.
“You won't hurt me.” He speaks with such confidence, I could almost believe him.
“But what if I do? How would I live with that?” I ask him, as he settles his hands on my arms, gently pulling them down from where they were crossed. Easily tearing down my meagre barrier.
“You won't,” he repeats.
“But—”
“No buts, Kayla. I've waited for you, and hell, I will keep waiting. You’re the one for me, and I've known that since I met you. You can't hide forever behind the excuse of not wanting to hurt me,” he argues, cutting me off and sliding his hands into mine.
“It's not an excuse.” I look down, staring at our now linked hands. Although his are so much larger than mine, they fit together easily. How do I make him understand? Witches aren't wired the same as shifters. We can fall out of love. We can break each other's hearts.
He unlinks one hand from mine, and with gentle fingers, he presses under my chin and tilts my head up. “It is. You say you're afraid to hurt me, but in reality, you're afraid of being hurt too. I won't hurt you, and I know that you won't hurt me either. People who lo—”
“Please don't say it,” I whisper, cutting him off. He takes a deep breath, and I can almost feel his exasperation in his exhale.
“Are you saying you don't feel that way?” he asks.
“No. I'm not saying I don't, but I also can't say that I do. I'm sorry, Darren.” I try to look anywhere but him, but he keeps me locked in his own gaze.
“Kayla,” he breathes out in barely a whisper. He moves his hand to stroke my hair, and I lean into his touch just a little, unable to resist. He tilts his head down, and I know I could—and should—pull away, but I don't want too. Just one more kiss couldn't hurt that badly, could it?
His lips press against mine, softer than I ever imagined his lips could. His kisses are normally hard, furious, passionate. As I kiss him back, I realise this is something else. This kiss is gentle, sweet, and everything that I'm not ready for. Everything that I cannot give to him. I pull away and his hands release me instantly.
“I can't do this.” The words seem to pour from my lips with no prompting from my head.
“I'm sorry,” he says quickly, but I shake my head. He shouldn't be sorry. I'm the one fucking this all up.
“It's not you—”
“If you say, 'it's me' I may scream,” he snorts, a derisive laugh falling from his lips, but it's hollow. I can see the hurt in his eyes. The hurt I just put there. Wasn’t I doing this to try and avoid hurting him?
“I should go,” I choke out, already grabbing my boots and pulling them back on.
“You don't need to go,” he murmurs, as he watches me zip them up.
“I do.”
“Let me drive you home at least,” he offers. His kindness only floods me with more frustration with myself.
Why do I have to be this person? Why can't I just let myself be happy with him?
“I'm fine. Please, just go to bed or something. I need to be alone,” mutter and storm through the door, slamming it shut behind me. I need to get out of here before I do anything else to fuck this up and end up hurting Darren even more than I already managed.
He deserves better than this. He deserves better than me.
Three
The First Vampire
Shivering as the frigid wind whips against my skin, I regret my decision to refuse Darren’s offer of a ride home after only twenty minutes of shuffling down the street. I rub my arms, trying to warm them up as I pick up my pace. I could grab a train, then the tube, and be home easily enough I reason with myself. It’s only a freaking forty-five-minute walk to the damn train station from Darren’s place.
I grit my teeth and hasten my stride, the quicker I get there, the quicker I get into the warmth. Although, it would be faster just to go back and ask Darren nicely for a lift home. I sigh. Am I really going to allow myself to freeze out of stubbornness? I cast a wistful glance over my shoulder back in the direction of Darren’s house, before turning around again and continuing forging ahead. I guess I am.
As I walk through the deserted area, a sudden crawling sensation runs up the back of my neck and unease pools in my stomach. I cast furtive glances around, wary of my surroundings, but I can’t see anything lurking in the shadows. I squint, trying to determine if something is hiding in a particularly dark corner across the street.
“Hello there,” a man’s voice purrs. My step falters before I whirl around to find the owner of the voice. A man stands right in front of me, seeming to appear from nowhere. Probably a supernatural. A supernatural that enjoys creeping up on women in the dark. Great. Dull, brown hair covers his head, and his skin is fair and smooth. Nothing about his appearance gives me any indication of what kind of supernatural he is. Although, he could be hiding his true appearance under a glamour.
I wave him off with a brisk, “Sorry, no time to chat,” crossing the road while keeping him in my line of sight.
He stands perfectly still, not following me, but not moving on either. I shiver, walking as fast as I can without drawing attention to my unease, or my need to put as much distance between us as possible. When I’m a reasonable distance away, I pull my eyes away from the man and look forward. I stagger back in alarm, he’s already standing in front of me again. Not many creatures can move that fast…
“What are you?” I demand. He flashes a predatory smile, devoid of warmth and reveals his very pointy teeth. “Put those away. I’m not about to agree to any kind of bloodletting. Go pick up your meal from a blood bank or bleeder den like the rest of your kind,” I snap, recoiling before I can stop myself.
“It’s a good thing I don’t require your agreement,” he drawls. He pounces, moving way too fast for me to formulate a plan. I hastily pull an undrawn circle around me, my magic coming to me quicker and more powerful than it ever has before. To my dismay, it pulls the circle around the both of us, instead of trapping him outside it as it should. And I thought my luck couldn’t get any worse.
His rough hands seize my shoulders in a tight hold, sharp nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. His eyes dart around, appearing alarmed by our confinement within the circle. At least, until he focuses on me and laughs at the realisation that it wasn’t my plan to do so. I thrash, fighting to shake him off, but his iron-like grip refuses to release me. He licks my cheek.
“Get the fuck off me!” I shriek, bringing my knee up squarely between his legs. Supernatural being or not, always go for the balls if your attacker is male. He releases his hold enough for me to wriggle free, and I stumble back as far as the circle allows. I try to drop the protection bubble so that I can run, but it won’t release. I’ve imprisoned myself in here with a pissed off, and by all appearances, ravenous vampire. I might as well have thrown some salt and pepper over me and told him to dig in.
I gulp, racking my
brain for any spell that might help me now. Unfortunately for me, when I’m not good at something, I don’t tend to spend a lot of time on it. Because of my previously weak magic, my dedication to learning spells was almost non-existent. A protective circle pushed the limits of the defensive magic I could cast from memory.
A cruel hand snakes into my blonde hair, yanking it back and dragging me to the centre of the circle before pulling me to the ground with brute force. The vampire looks into my eyes as he straddles my waist to keep me pinned down. He tilts my chin up, his strength holding my upper body impossibly still under him. Only my legs having enough give to move. I kick them out, trying to throw him off balance and push him off me, to no avail.
“Won’t you scream for me, witch?” he taunts, wiping away the panicked tear trailing down my cheek. I clamp my mouth shut. The twisted bastard’s obvious pleasure at the sight of fear meant I wouldn’t show mine. “Oh well,” he whispers, and excruciating pain radiates from my neck, tearing through me, and steals all my focus. I feel like I’ve been stabbed, rather than bitten, as he crudely tears into my skin. My attempts at withholding my screams becomes futile. With the amount of pain spreading through my body, rational thought has fled, and I’m no longer able to even tell if any sound escapes or not.
After the initial bite, I can feel a strong sucking sensation on my neck. The pull and sounds coming from the vampire make me want to vomit. My body trembles uncontrollably, and I grow weaker with every drop he takes. He slurps my blood like a milkshake, my connection to my magic fades, and I feel my circle drop around us as my eyes flutter closed.
The weight of his body atop mine disappears, and his mouth rips from my neck with a forceful jerk. Wresting my eyes open, dots swim before my eyes, but it seems a different face now hovers above mine.
“Kier?” I mumble in surprise, trying to lift my hand to my neck, but my body ignores the command from my brain. He looks concerned as he presses his own hand to my neck.
“You’re going to be fine,” he says quietly.
“Whatever you say, Detective Asshole.” My words sound a little jumbled to my own ears, so I’m not entirely sure how much of that he understood.
“Close your eyes and trust me,” he instructs. Can I close my eyes? “Kayla? Can you hear me? Just close your eyes.”
My eyes manage to flutter shut as he asks, and instead of darkness, all I see is light.
I sit up with a gasp, my heart pounding. After a few deep breaths and surreptitious glances around, I realise that I’m safe and now sitting in the back seat of a car. The car is parked just across from where the vampire attacked me. I pull off the scratchy blanket draped over me and let it fall onto the seat next to me. When I reach up to my neck, I feel a smooth healed scar, rather than a gaping open wound from the bite.
“Kier?” I choke, my voice barely a rasp. I cough, trying to clear my throat. “Kier?” I call out again, a little louder. He materialises, holding the car door open.
“You’re awake,” he blurts out, running his eyes over me, as if assessing whether I’m okay or not.
“Yeah and apparently all healed up, too.” I gesture at my neck. “Thank you.”
“Couldn’t leave you to bleed to death, now could I?” he teases with a smile, though it’s quick to fade. “Why the hell did you trap yourself in a circle with him? I couldn’t get to you until it dropped when you almost died,” he snaps.
“Trust me, it wasn’t on purpose,” I grumble, rubbing my neck. I flinch away from the touch of my own hand. It still feels a little sore under the skin. “Why were you here anyway? Please tell me you’re not still stalking me?” I question, narrowing my eyes. I don’t know where Lizzy is hiding, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell him.
“I was stalking the vampire, actually. Several women have died the last few weeks in this area. All vampire attacks. My superiors disregarded the case though, as all the victims, until now at least, were human. He took measures to hide the supernatural cause of death, so with the risk of humanity discovering our existence minimal, it wasn’t a high priority,” he answers, his jaw clenching as he speaks.
“So, you tracked down the big, bad vampire all by yourself?” I inquire with genuine curiously. In truth, I’m surprised Kier would even care about the dead humans. Black witches aren’t exactly known for having hearts of gold. Especially the half-vampire kind.
“Yes, outside of work hours I did. I’ve tried to find him for weeks, and today I finally caught up to him. Even if the humans remain ignorant, it’s bad press for the rest of the supernaturals to be wary of everyone with vampire blood.” He flashes his fangs, as if to accentuate his point. I flinch at the sight of them. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” he stammers, quick to apologise.
I wave him off. “It’s fine. I’m just a little jumpy. Is he going to be locked up?” I ask, wanting to ensure I’d never run into him again. With my luck, I’d escape from him today, only to bump into him tomorrow.
“He’s dead,” he answers bluntly.
“Oh.” Maybe I’m safe then.
“Even though there was no active search for him, he committed several unforgivable offences. Kill order was given if anyone came into contact with him,” Kier explains.
“And you just happened upon him,” I mutter.
“Be glad I did. A few more minutes and you’d have been dead… or worse.” He releases a deep sigh, running a hand through his sandy blond hair.
“Am I okay to go now?” I manage to whisper.
“Yes, but I’d feel better if you let me drive you home. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood,” he nods. I look between him and the street before agreeing. I don’t want to go back out there alone, not after what had just happened.
I lean back in the seat, settling in as he walks around and gets into the driver’s side of the car.
“Still at the same address?” he questions unnecessarily.
“My ancestors would kill me if I gave it up,” I deadpan. He chuckles at the joke only witches would understand, before starting up the car and speeding down the street. It doesn’t take long for the vibrations of the moving vehicle to lull me into a deep sleep.
“Kayla?” Kier’s voice calls softly, and I feel a gentle nudge on my shoulder. “We’re here. Let’s get you inside.”
I groan, as I pull myself up and out of the car with measured movements, refusing his offered hand. I stumble up to my door and stand there awkwardly. “Thanks for bringing me home.” Should I invite him inside? He did just save my life. He just nods and turns back to his car to leave. “Wait,” I call, and he pauses, glancing back at me. “Why did you help me? I mean, I understand why you saved my life, that’s your job after all. I mean, why did you drive me home?” I ask, unable to stop my prying.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Kier responds, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Because you don’t like me,” I answer candidly.
“Why would you think that I don’t like you?”
“Because you tried to pin me for a murder I didn’t commit. You even stalked me, following me everywhere. You were almost obsessive in your hunt to find any evidence you could use against me,” I retort, not quite able to keep the bite out of my words. Although he helped me with reanimating Jay, he was a persistent pain in my ass and made my life ridiculously complicated in the process.
“Could I come in? This is probably best explained somewhere private, rather than out on the street,” he says, gesturing around us. I unlock the door and step inside, indicating for him to follow.
I shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it, and lead him into the living room. He grabs the seat I normally prefer, which bugs me a little, but I keep my mouth shut. I sit on the sofa instead so that I can face him.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask. Other than me, considering I’m already running low on the good stuff. I choke on a laugh at the thought, mentally scolding myself that my dark sense of humour isn’t appropriate right now. He shakes his head and looks a
bsently at the wall for a moment. “So?” I prompt, after he sits in silence for a while. He exhales a deep sigh, the sound exhausted. He gazes at me like he both wants to tell me but doesn’t at the same time.
“I never thought you were guilty, Kayla. I just knew you would lead me to the person who was,” he begins, his speech slow and cautious.
“How could you be so sure?” I demand. I refused to accept his previous excuse of gut instinct.
“Because I saw it. I possess the gift of sight. I know it’s not always one hundred percent reliable, and the visions are sometimes confusing, but I knew that you would lead me to the killer,” he explains. “The only way I could justify trailing you everywhere, was to make you the main suspect. The higher ups don’t trust a witch’s sight. Even though they should.” He goes quiet, as if giving me some time to process his explanation.
“Only white witches receive sight usually.” I give him a pointed look, demanding an answer to my unasked question. The goddess that white witches worship holds the gifts of sight, healing, love, and a few others too. Those who follow the other goddess’ path were rarely blessed with these gifts.
“My mother was a white witch, and I lived with her until I was thirteen. I’ve had the gift of sight since then. My full powers came in while I still lived with her, but shortly afterwards she died, and then I moved in with my father, a black witch. He brought me into the black coven, where I’ve remained ever since.” His response sounds detached and monotonous.
“Why didn’t you choose to come back when you turned twenty-one?” I wonder aloud. Every witch is brought up in their parent’s coven, but at the age of twenty-one, you are permitted to choose another. For an entire year a witch has the opportunity to switch sides and discover the right place for them. Most stick to their family lines, but there are always a few black sheep.