Wounded Soul

by Annabelle Jacobs

  “I know. And I’m going to get you something for that in just a second. First we need to—”

  Ian got to his feet, moving so quickly it made his head spin. He grabbed the nearest thing for support, which happened to be the back of an armchair. The fabric felt smooth under his fingers and it smelt of Jesse, temporarily distracting him, then his craving got the better of him again. “I said I’m fucking thirsty. I need water, or juice or something.”

  “The something is about right,” Peter muttered.

  “What the hell does that mean?” He refused to believe what they were implying.

  Refused.

  “Don’t play dumb, Ian.”

  “Peter.” Jesse’s voice held a warning.

  “There’s no point trying to ease him into it, we need to get some blood in him now.”

  Ian swallowed, trying to deny how good that sounded, and backed as far into the corner as he could get, sliding to the floor. “No.” His voice came out scratchy and lacking any conviction. “What the fuck did you do to me?” He spat the question at Peter, assaulted by the memory of his hands and teeth from the night before.

  Peter grinned. “Oh, this wasn’t my doing. I left you for dead.” He gestured to Jesse using the bag of blood he now held. “Your current state is all Jesse’s fault.”

  Ian knew he should be mad, should be furious for what they’d done to him, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the blood in Peter’s hand. Couldn’t focus on anything else.

  His throat burnt, fangs ached, and he let out a low keening noise, his body moving of its own volition.

  “You want this?” Peter tore a corner off the top and held the bag out towards him.

  Ian hated how badly he wanted to drink it down. Hated how his hands were already reaching out for it. Hated the condescending way Peter whispered, “Good boy,” as Ian snatched the bag from his hands.

  The moment blood spilled into his mouth, Ian moaned in appreciation.

  He didn’t remember anything ever tasting this good.

  His body sang, nerve endings coming to life as he drank and drank, barely able to get it out quickly enough. When the bag was empty, he threw it at Peter and hissed, “More.”

  Peter reached behind and then tossed him another.

  Ian caught it, tearing into it with an urgency he tried not to think about.

  “I think I’m going to like him.” Peter chuckled.

  Ian would’ve told him to go fuck himself, but he didn’t want to stop drinking. He did manage to cast a glance at Jesse, who stood leant against the wall, expression hard to read. From what little Ian knew about him, he’d guess it was a mix of regret, fascination, and from the way his eyes darkened as he watched . . . desire.

  Watching Ian drink bag after bag of blood was clearly doing it for Jesse, and Ian didn’t have the mental focus to decide how he felt about that. He pushed it to the back of his mind, along with everything else he didn’t want to think about.

  Finally, after bag number four, Ian slumped back against the wall, thirst quenched. He closed his eyes and tried not to let panic take over as his head cleared and everything that was now different about him suddenly became obvious.

  He breathed in deep, instinct making him draw air in and out, and the scents of everything in the room were overwhelming. The tang of blood hung in the air—rich and coppery—and Ian licked his lips, the faint taste of it still there. Peter’s scent made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. It brought back memories of pain and despair, and Ian wanted to wipe it from his mind. He turned to face Jesse, his scent easy to pick out, and a smile curved his lips as he remembered fun, laughter, sex so good it made his toes curl. But then he remembered who’d done this to him and his smile faded.

  As strange as it all was, underneath it all, breathing felt . . . wrong. Ian blew out a breath, then forced himself not to automatically take another. Half of him wanted to suck in air like he had for the past thirty-odd years, but the other half knew he didn’t need to anymore. He sat there unmoving for a good few minutes, and when nothing happened—no gasping, no desperate need for air—Ian had to accept the God-awful truth.

  Even if his earlier bloodlust hadn’t been enough to convince him, the sudden lack of a need for air pretty much sealed it.

  I’m a motherfucking vampire.

  “Well,” Peter said and clapped his hands. “As fun as this is, I need to go write my heavily edited report for Raph and make sure those two idiots stick to the same story.” He gave Ian a little wave, then turned to Jesse. “I’ll be back later to see how things are going. Remember, don’t let anyone in and under no circumstances let him out.” He was at the door in an instant, Ian marvelled at how fast he moved, then his mind screeched to a halt.

  Can I move that fast?

  His body felt too full and sluggish to bother trying, so he stayed where he was.

  The door snicked shut, and Ian watched as Jesse walked over—humanly slow—to lock it behind Peter.

  “Why aren’t you as fast as Peter?” He couldn’t help pulling a face as he said his name.

  Jesse smiled. “Because Peter is an egotistical show-off. I don’t need vampire speed to move around my bedroom.”

  Vampire speed.

  Jesse said it so matter-of-factly, but it still sounded weird. Made up.

  Yet here he was, sat on the floor of a vampire’s bedroom, in a vampire house, splattered by the remains of the blood he’d just drunk.

  “Hey,” Jesse soothed, now crouched in front of him, and when the fuck had that happened? He reached up to cup Ian’s jaw, but Ian jerked his head backwards. “Sorry.” Hurt flashed in Jesse’s eyes and a wave of anger gripped Ian like a vice.

  “You have no fucking right to touch me after what you did.”

  Jesse looked like he’d just slapped him. “I know.”

  Good.

  Jesse sat on the floor, leaving about two feet of space between them. “I know you’re feeling angry and upset and probably a million other things right now. And I’m so very sorry.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Everything about him screamed sincerity, but Ian struggled to get past one thing.

  “You did this to me,” he whispered. His hands shook as panic began to creep in. “I’m terrified right now.” He put a hand on his chest. “My heart should be beating a mile a minute, but it’s just sat there. Dead.”

  Like I should be.

  That thought made him shudder.

  He didn’t want to die either, but was this better? This . . . this thing that he was now? “You made me into a monster,” he ground out. “Why?”

  Jesse let his head fall back as he stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  Ian eyed the long line of his throat, wondered what it would be like to graze his teeth across the fine dusting of stubble there. Maybe sink his fangs— He caught himself and attempted to focus on what Jesse had just said. “Which part?”

  “All of it.” Jesse turned to look at him, expression pained. “I should never have approached you that night in the bar, never should’ve dragged you into my world, but I couldn’t help myself.” A faint smile teased his lips. “I was drawn to you.”

  “Lucky me,” Ian mumbled. He’d liked Jesse, liked him a lot. But if he’d known all this at the start, he’d never have got involved with him.

  Jesse’s face fell, his expression easy for Ian to read now. He looked broken.

  “I’m so fucking sorry. I stopped things between us as soon as I realised I was getting too invested, too attached, but it was too late. If I’d known your best friend was a member of the VLCD, I would never have started anything with you in the first place, but—”

  Ian’s head snapped up. “Blake? Is he—”

  “He’s fine. Even Peter would never try something that stupid. But they smelt you on him when the VLCD came to do their inspection.”

  So this was the coven Blake went to see.

  “Both Raph and Peter recognised your scent, and there was nothing
I could do.”

  “You could’ve fucking warned me.” Ian gesticulated wildly. “I don’t know about you, but I think a heads-up about someone coming to murder me was the least I deserved.”

  “Raph forbade me to contact you.”

  “And you always do what this Raph person says?”

  “He’s the coven leader,” Jesse answered, as if that explained everything. “And nothing was supposed to happen to you. Raph sent Peter to find and observe you, discover what you knew without alerting you to his presence.” Jesse gripped his hair again, and for a second Ian was reminded of doing the same as Jesse sucked his— Focus. “Not fucking attack you in a filthy back alley and leave you for dead.”

  “Apparently he didn’t get the memo.” If only he’d texted Cate back, asked her why she needed him to meet her when most other Wednesday nights she went round to her mates. Oh fuck, Cate! “Did he hurt Cate?” Ian blurted, anxiety spiking. “He said he didn’t, said he only got her to send me that text, but I don’t fucking trust him and—”

  “Hey, slow down.” Jesse put his hands out and Ian hissed at him.

  “Slow down? That fucker used his vampire mojo or whatever to mess with her head, and I have no idea if she’s lying in a ditch somewhere. So don’t tell me to slow the fuck down!” He pushed himself to his feet, swaying at the speed he moved.

  Wow.

  Shaking his head a little, he glared down at Jesse. “I need to go make sure she’s okay.” He ran for the door, the room a sudden blur around him. The solid thing he slammed into didn’t feel much like wood, though.

  Jesse’s arms closed around him. “I can’t let you leave, Ian.”

  Ian fought against him, but as strong as he was, Jesse was stronger, and his grip didn’t falter. “Why?”

  “So many reasons, I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Pick one,” Ian snarked. “We’ll go from there.”

  “Fine. But if I let you go; do you promise not to try and escape?”

  Ian scoffed.

  Jesse let his head fall back and hit the door. “Do you at least promise to hear me out first.”

  He could give him that, he supposed. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Come on, then.” He let his arms drop and pointed to the bed. “Let’s go sit down, at least.”

  Ian followed him, footsteps slow and measured as he took time to get used to the way his body moved now. The lingering ache he sometimes suffered at the base of his spine had disappeared.

  I guess there’s that.

  Jesse sat over the far side of the bed, giving Ian plenty of space, which he appreciated. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Jesse. “What did you mean, before?”

  Jesse frowned. “When?”

  “When you said you didn’t mean for this to happen?” Ian swept a hand over himself. “Pretty sure I didn’t end up like this by accident. Don’t you have to do stuff to make someone into the undead?”

  “Don’t call us that,” Jesse said softly.

  “Why? It’s what you are.”

  What we are.

  “No.” Jesse’s voice was still soft but had an edge to it. “We’re vampires. I don’t know how it works or what exactly happens to our bodies when we change, but my flesh isn’t rotting. I don’t smell of death, do I?”

  “No.” Ian remembered him smelling good, but that was before. Would it be different now? His gaze dropped to Jesse’s throat, then lower. Did he want to find out?

  “My heart might no longer beat, my lungs might not need air, but I’m very much flesh and blood, Ian.” He shrugged. “As long as I drink enough of it.”

  Ian grimaced despite devouring four bags of the stuff earlier; the actual idea of it disgusted him.

  Sort of.

  He closed his eyes.

  How the hell has my life come to this?

  Yesterday I was moaning about having to drive to bloody St Austell. Now I’ll be lucky if I ever see a Cornish beach again.

  Christ.

  “Can I go out in the sun?”

  Jesse blinked at him. “What?”

  “The sun. Is that a myth or will it burn me?”

  Jesse’s sad smile said it all. “It’s not a myth.”

  “I have so many questions,” Ian murmured, picturing white sands and turquoise blue sea as it shimmered in the sun—a sight he’d probably never see again. Hit hard by a pang of longing and loss, he clutched a hand to his chest.

  “I know.” Jesse put a tentative hand on Ian’s arm, grip getting firmer when Ian didn’t immediately shake him off. “And I promise to answer every one of them, but first things first. Let me explain why it’s a good idea for you to stay here for now, then I’ll tell you how turning you was actually an accident.” He met Ian’s gaze, eyes as intense and captivating as the first time Ian had lost himself in them. “Then if you still want me to, I’ll answer your other questions.”

  Ian settled back against the soft pillows.

  Might as well make myself comfy.

  He waved for Jesse to start talking. “Go on, then.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jesse took a deep breath he didn’t need. Some human habits were hard to break, even after all these years, and when Jesse got nervous, he sometimes reverted to them.

  Now was one of those times. If he didn’t nail this explanation, both of why Ian couldn’t leave his room and what had happened last night, everything was in danger of going tits up.

  “Our coven, and quite a few others, have an agreement with the Vampire Liaison and Crimes Division. It covers a fair few things, but basically we don’t feed from humans anymore, and in return they won’t hunt us.” Unconsciously his fingers went to his tagging bracelet, and he tapped it, drawing Ian’s attention. “These identify us as vampires they can’t hunt and also keep track of our movements should any suspicious deaths occur.” He watched Ian’s face as realisation dawned. “You need to stay in this room because you don’t have one, and if any VLCD members caught on to what you are, they could kill you.” He clasped his hands together to stop himself fiddling with his own bracelet. It bothered him most when he focused on it.

  “Another reason is you’re newly turned. Thirsty.” Jesse gave a pointed look at the discarded pile of blood bags. “What do you think could happen if you get hungry in a room full of humans?”

  A horrified look passed over Ian’s face. “You mean I’d eat them?”

  Jesse shrugged. “It’s not like you’d lose all control, but you’d be tempted. And if anyone pissed you off . . .” He let that hang there for a moment. “Let’s just say it’s better for everyone if you learn to control your newfound strength and senses before going back out amongst humans.”

  Ian sat there, seeming to quietly take it all in. Then his eyes narrowed. “These trackers you all wear . . .”

  “What about them?” Jesse asked warily, guessing where Ian was going with it.

  “Do the police monitor them all the time?”

  “No. If there’s an unsolved crime that looks as though it could be vampire related, then the head of the VLCD meets with Raph and they check the data together. It takes both of them to access it. And then they can see if any of us were in the vicinity when it happened.”

  “So last night, if the police checked the tracking data, they’d find you, Peter, and the others had been there.”

  Jesse ran a hand through his hair. “Apparently Peter’s found a way to take the tracker off without using the special tool only Raph has. According to him, the data will show that he, Michael, and Simon were never there. They were either on their way home or already back at the coven. That it was just me in that alleyway.”

  “I see.” Ian drew his bottom lip into his mouth, and Jesse would give a lot to know what he was thinking right now. “So if the police discover I—I died in that alley, then all evidence points to you.”

  “Yep.” And rightly deserved too, Jesse mused. He might not have been the one to drain Ian’s blood, but he’d put him in that situation. “The
re’s no evidence to suggest you were ever there though.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Peter has your phone. He drank your blood, and he wouldn’t have been sloppy enough to spill a drop.”

  Ian grimaced.

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, that’s going to take some time before it doesn’t freak me out.”

  “Understandable. I asked Peter to change me and it still took a while to get used to it . . . after.”

  “You asked for it?” His eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  Because I lost the love of my life and I wanted to die. “That’s a story for another time,” he said softly.

  “Fair enough.” Ian covered his face with his hands for a moment, and Jesse wondered if this was all too much to take in. He’d been tossed in the deep end, no easing into it, and looked as though he couldn’t take much more.

  When he dropped his hands a few moments later, he seemed to find some resolve. “Assuming no one saw me go into that alleyway, there’s nothing to put me there. So you should be in the clear if they start to look for me.”

  “I guess.”

  “Good.”

  Jesse’s dead heart ached at the fact Ian was worried about him. He didn’t mention that Cate had his photo. And if the VLCD got involved, the first thing they’d do is check for vampires at Ian’s house. Then he’d be shit out of luck. “There’s another reason you need to stay out of sight for a while.” And probably one of the more important ones as far as Jesse was concerned. “Raph doesn’t know about you and I’d like to keep it that way until I figure out what to do about that.”

  “Raph’s the coven leader, right?”

  Jesse nodded.

  “So does that make him the boss of everyone?”

  “Yes, I guess you could say that. His decision is final in all coven matters.”

  “Right.” Ian’s eyebrows scrunched together. “And he won’t be very happy to find out about me.”