Storm the Night

by Zahra Stone

  Then we made impact, and my screams stopped as we bounced and rolled along the ground, the terrifying sounds of metal ripping apart, the silence from the engine, the whoosh as the propeller was torn from the body and flung off into god only knew where. Outside I could see nothing but darkness—at least we hadn’t landed on someone’s house. A strange thought when you’re bouncing uncontrollably in a crashed helicopter.

  Eventually, we skidded to a halt.

  “Oh, God,” I whimpered. I was upside down, dangling from my safety harness. I couldn’t see Nate at all. Had he been flung out? With shaking fingers, I pressed the release button on my harness, but nothing happened. Frantically I pushed at it again and again, but it was jammed, and I was stuck. With my blood rushing to my head, it was hard to think beyond the panic thrumming through my veins.

  “Nate?” I called, then stilled my struggles to listen intently. Nothing. Not a sound. It was eerily silent. “Mr. Pilot?” I tried. We’d never been introduced; I’d only caught a glimpse of the man behind the controls when he’d landed at Rae’s house. No answer. Was I here alone?

  Minutes ticked by, and my head ached from hanging upside down. There were no voices outside, no one calling out. It was just me. With a sob, I wrapped my hand around the release buckle and concentrated, directing my heat to the clasp. I knew it would hurt as the nylon and metal became heated and seared into my palm, but it was the only way I could think of to get out. I didn’t want to risk an open flame in case aviation fuel had sprayed throughout the cabin—I could accidentally blow myself up.

  “Aaaaarghhhhh!” The metal buckle burned and melted into my palm, branding me, but I held tight until it completely fell away. I collapsed to the floor on my hands and knees and immediately crawled to the shattered window, wriggling my way out of the narrow gap and onto the grass outside.

  It was pitch black, and my hand hurt like a bitch. Calling forth my flame, I healed myself, then called forth a fireball to use as a light. What I saw had me swearing. The helicopter was a mess, nothing but a crushed ball. There was barely anything left of it. I hurried around to the front and peered inside. The pilot was there, in his seat, a metal rod protruding from his chest all the way through the windshield. Hurrying around to his window, I reached in and felt for a pulse. He was dead.

  “Nate!” Straightening, I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled. Nothing. Where the hell was he? I could see the path of destruction the helicopter had taken as it plowed across the land, and with my flame to light the way, I traced the route back, calling out to Nate as I went. He had to be here, somewhere.

  “Paige.” It was barely a whisper, but I heard it. Stopping, I swiveled, looking into the undergrowth. We’d landed in some sort of woods or forest, trees as far as the eye could see. I guess they broke our fall somewhat.

  “Nate! Where are you?”

  “Here.” A little louder, I was getting closer. I started to run, desperate to get to him. He had to be hurt; otherwise, he would have come for me. I practically tripped over him he was lying so still in the grass.

  “Shit.” Kneeling by his side, I called more flame and ran my hand over his body. His injury was apparent. Like the pilot, Nate sported a metal pole pinning him to the ground. “Here, let me.” I had to extinguish my flame to wrap both hands around the bar. Before I could pull, Nate stopped me. “Careful. It’s resting against my heart. Pull slowly and carefully.”

  “No pressure,” I whispered, my palms suddenly sweating and slippery. Inch by inch, I eased the pole out of his chest, wincing at the squelching noise it made and doing my best to ignore Nate’s occasional hiss of pain. This had to hurt like the devil. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pole was free, and I tossed it aside. Holding another fireball, I watched as his flesh knitted back together. Then I burst into tears.

  “Hey now, what’s all this?” he chided, sitting up and wrapping his arms around me. I dropped the fireball, and it went out, leaving us in darkness. I couldn’t stop the tears now that they’d started. Rather than telling me to pull myself together, he rubbed a hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture and kept whispering over and over that it was okay and we were safe.

  Eventually, my hysterics subsided, and embarrassment settled in. I’d never been much of a crier and hated it when people saw me cry. It made me feel weak. I pushed away from him and wiped my arm over my eyes.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, mortified.

  “It’s okay. You needed the release.” Jumping to his feet, he held out a hand and hauled me up next to him. I couldn’t help but notice he swayed a little.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I need to feed. Healing took a lot out of me.”

  “Oh.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot, knowing what I had to do but incredibly unsure. Eventually, I held out my wrist and said, “Here.”

  He chuckled. “Spitfire, if I drink your blood, it won’t be from your wrist.” He began walking, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to make the ultimate sacrifice for me. I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

  I hurried after him. “But you need to feed!”

  “I’ll survive.” Ignoring me, he kept moving, and I dutifully followed. It wasn’t until I’d stumbled and fallen for the third time that he stopped.

  “This isn’t working,” he observed.

  “No shit. I can’t fucking see. It’s okay for you with your vampy super fucking vision, but for me, it’s like walking blindfolded.” Despite having a glowing ball of fire in my palm to guide the way, I could only see a couple of feet in front of me. My frustration was boiling over, and I knew without seeing that he was laughing at me.

  “Damn.” There was rustling, and then he was right in my face. “Wait here. I’m going ahead to scout out some shelter. I can’t be out here when dawn hits, especially in my weakened state.”

  Oh, man, didn’t I feel like an asshole? I’d forgotten he wouldn’t be able to tolerate the sunlight. Here I’d been cursing him for making me walk through the dark when he had no other option. I hung my head in shame.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that.” My apology went unanswered. He was long gone, leaving me standing alone in the dark. I kept going in the general direction we’d been heading. I refused to stand out here like a useless female and wait for him to come back for me.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and I glanced up. That would explain the lack of moonlight or stars. A storm was covering the sky. In the distance, a fork of lightning lit up the night momentarily before plunging me back into darkness. I counted in my head until the thunder rumbled again. Close. The storm was close, yet another reason why shelter was a mighty fine idea.

  Plunging on, I peered ahead as best I could. I should have scouted the helicopter for a torch. While my flame was handy, it didn’t have the same penetration as a beam of light.

  I’d been alone, struggling over the uneven terrain for at least an hour when the downpour started. Within seconds I was drenched, and try as I might, I couldn’t keep my flame alight. Water dripping in my eyes, I raised an arm to shield my face and kept moving forward, only now I was virtually blind, and I had no idea what direction Nate had gone. I’d thought I’d been traveling in a straight line, but who knew? And as much as I groused that I didn’t want him to return to rescue me, I actually did. I was starting to get worried. Had he left me out here alone? I had no idea where we were, how far away from civilization we were. I wasn’t equipped for this. Small mercy I was wearing my trainers and not heels, that’s all I can say.

  It wasn’t until I almost walked into it that I discovered I’d cleared the forest, and there was a structure looming up in front of me. Reaching my hands out, I slowly shuffled forward until I touched it. Wood. Okay, maybe a house or a barn. Yet it was still pitch black, the wind had picked up now, and I was starting to shiver in my wet clothes. This barn—or whatever it was —couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Keeping one hand on the wooden siding, I felt
along until I came to a corner, turned, and continued the process until my hand fell away to nothing. A door. An open door! Halleluiah! Stepping inside, I shook the water off my arms and summoned my fire, holding it high in my palm. I looked around. Yep, a barn. Old and abandoned by the looks of things. Rain dripped through in a couple of places, but other than that, it was dry. There were some old hay bales off to one side, a pile of junk, a shit ton of cobwebs. And no Nate.

  “Where are you?” I spoke out loud as if expecting an answer. None was forthcoming. I’d found this place by accident. So we must be on someone’s property. Maybe there was a house nearby, and Nate had found his way there. Returning to the doorway, I stood and looked at the torrential rain and decided I’d stay put, at least until the rain stopped.

  Making a clearing and piling together some wooden crates, I set them on fire, careful to keep the flames contained lest I burned down my shelter. With the fire merrily dancing away and providing plenty of light and warmth, I stretched my hands out to it and puzzled over what to do next. I wasn’t SIA trained. I wasn’t a camper either. I had no fucking clue what to do out here in the middle of nowhere. And I didn’t want to examine too closely my niggling worry over Nate. He was a vampire, a powerful one. He could take care of himself. But he’d sustained a horrific injury, one that had drained him when he’d healed. What if he hadn’t found…food? What if he was lying out there, hurt? Dying?

  “Fuck it.” Striding to the door, I peered outside. I’d come from the left, but straight ahead, through the fall of water…was that a boot on the ground? I stretched my neck, narrowed my eyes but couldn’t tell for sure.

  “This had better be worth it, Wilder,” I fumed, stepping out into the rain again and heading toward where I thought I’d seen a man’s boot. Turned out I was right. Lying face down in the rain was a man, all in black. From this angle, I couldn’t tell if it was Nate or not, but he looked to be his height and build, and who else could it possibly be? Rolling him over, I sucked in a breath. It was Nate all right. He was out cold. His face was white, and his cheeks were sunken. He must have found the barn and had been returning for me when he ran out of juice.

  Grabbing both of his feet, I dragged him back to the barn, puffing at the weight of him. I was wheezing by the time I got him inside and over by the fire. Dragging him over the mud had forced his shirt up around his chest, and I got an uninterrupted view of his abs. I couldn’t help myself; I reached out a hand and placed my palm flat on them, expecting a response from him, stunned when there was none.

  “Nate?” Now I was really worried. Tugging his shirt down, I scrambled up toward his head and, with trembling fingers, felt for a pulse. Barely there. But he was alive, just. I’d always thought vampires were the living dead, but he’d educated me on that. Their hearts still beat, blood still pumped through their bodies. They just needed to replenish that blood on a regular basis.

  Clearly, Nate needed blood, and he needed it now. Jumping to my feet, I searched the barn for something to use to cut myself with but came up empty. I briefly toyed with the idea of using my own teeth but quickly scrapped it. I’d never go through with it, no matter how badly he needed blood. Which left Nate himself. He was SIA. Surely, he had a weapon of some sort on him. Patting him down, I ran my palms over his thighs, searched the pockets of his trousers. It wasn’t until I reached his boots that I found a small blade tucked inside a hidden sheath on the inside of his boot.

  The storm had picked up intensity outside, and it seemed fitting to have the wild soundtrack of Mother Nature booming around me as I contemplated the unthinkable. I was about to slit my wrist and feed a vampire. With a self-deprecating laugh, I drew the blade across my flesh, sucking in a breath at the sting, then quickly holding my wrist over his mouth as the blood dripped.

  “Drink,” I whispered. For a second, I didn’t think it had worked, for the blood fell on him, hitting his lips and sliding down his chin and across his cheeks with no reaction from him. Then he stirred. His tongue appeared to swipe at his bottom lip, then his eyes flashed open, and his mouth was clamped to my wrist so fast I hadn’t seen him move. I gasped when his fangs pierced my flesh, the pain burning. He was pulling at my wrist, sucking the blood from my veins faster than it could pump out.

  As suddenly as it had started, he stopped, frozen, his mouth at my wrist, his eyes on mine. I watched, shaken. I’d seen him drink from the waitress at the waffle house. She’d had a look of utter bliss on her face. Me? I just felt pain. I couldn’t hide the tremble that shook me from the inside out.

  Ever so slowly, he withdrew his fangs, not missing my flinch. My hand jerked, but he held tight, not letting me pull away. I watched as he lifted his head, my blood staining his lips red. With a swipe of his tongue, he cleaned his mouth, then glanced down at my wrist, which was now a broken mess thanks to my self-inflicted wound and his own puncture marks. Blood continued to ooze, and I felt my stomach turn. Pain was throbbing up my arm with each heartbeat. Again, I went to tug my arm away from him, but he wouldn’t let go, and I feared he was about to slip into bloodlust and drain me dry.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, then scored his tongue on one of his fangs. A bead of blood appeared, and to my surprise, he ran his tongue over my wrist. The flesh began to knit back together immediately, and the pain vanished. He’d healed me. Then, and only then, did he release the hold he had on my arm. I sat back on my heels, not knowing what to think.

  “Thank you.” His voice was low, rough, and I didn’t know what to say in response, so I shrugged.

  “Have you had enough? You didn’t take much.” His face was no longer pale, and his cheeks had lost that awful hollow look.

  “I could use more,” he admitted, and my irritation returned.

  “For fuck's sake, just take it then. I’m not strong enough to drag you around. I need you to be on your own two feet.” I offered my wrist again, angry that he’d stopped when he needed more.

  “Thanks for dragging me this far.” He sat up, ignoring my offered wrist, and ran his fingers through his hair, frowning at the mass of mud and twigs stuck to the back of his head. “Really? Feet first?”

  “The feet are lighter.” I shrugged, then watched as he vaulted to his feet and strode to the door, peering outside. When he stepped out into the rain, I clambered to my feet. “What are you doing? I’m not going to drag your sorry ass back inside if you collapse again.”

  “I’m rinsing off. I seem to have accumulated half a field of mud and twigs.” Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he tugged it up and over his head, and I stood, hands-on-hips, unabashedly watching. Water streamed down his body, rivulets flowing across the dips and valleys before disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. Turning his attention to the shirt, he rinsed it off in the rain before tossing it at me. I caught it, holding the wet bundle against my chest and basically enjoying the sight before me. I knew he knew I was watching, but I couldn’t seem to turn away, couldn’t close my eyes.

  He was an Adonis. The water coursing over him, his palms ran over his chest to wash away any mud, then up, tilting his head back and running his fingers through the thick strands of his hair, eyes closed, neck exposed.

  Blue lighting danced over my skin, setting up a heat that warmed me from the inside out. I wanted him. I’d wanted him for a long, long time but had kept myself in denial. But here, almost naked in the rain? I wanted him so badly I feared I was about to self-combust. Tossing his shirt over my shoulder, I stepped out into the rain and moved toward him with no hesitation.

  Lowering his arms, he watched me through hooded eyes. I kept coming at him, not slowing my pace, until I was flush against him, tugging his head down to mine. My mouth closed over his, giving him no escape, taking what I wanted because I wanted it oh so badly. He growled, and my toes curled in my shoes.

  I refused to relinquish my claim on his mouth, couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. He was just too delicious. His big hands roamed down my back, exploring every inch, and I shivered in delight
, my tongue sweeping over him, brushing against a fang and not caring. Then I was being lifted until we were face to face, my legs clamped tightly around his waist, my fingers threaded through his hair. I was exactly where I needed to be and couldn’t contain the purr that vibrated through me.

  All around us, the rain fell, the wind whipped, and the thunder boomed, but neither of us noticed or even cared. I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam was rising, given how hot I was for him. The kiss went on forever. My lips were swollen and tingling, and when he dragged his mouth away, I protested. I wanted more.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got something better,” he promised, his lips trailing kisses across my cheek and down my throat. There he bit, licked, and sucked, and I was squirming against him, my head was thrown back. The rain splashing on my face only heightened my sensitivity.

  “Bite me,” I gasped, arching back further, so he was forced to place a palm between my shoulder blades to support me.

  “You usually say that as an insult.” He chuckled, licking rain from my skin in delicious strokes of his tongue.

  “Your last bite hurt,” I reminded him. “Show me that it can feel good.” Images of the waitress’s face flashed through my mind. She had been in ecstasy from his bite. I wanted that, for despite his kisses being damn good, I knew there had to be more. All my life, I’d been craving more, needing more, demanding more from the lovers I’d taken to my bed, and none of them had been able to deliver. I was pretty sure Nate Wilder could.

  He stilled at my words, frowning. “I hurt you?”

  “In the warehouse. The first time we met,” I reminded him. “You bit me then. To frighten me, I think.”

  “Didn’t work.” He shook his head, remembering. “And you’re right, I need to make it up to you. Let me show you how good a vampire’s bite can be.” His mouth was back at my neck, sucking, pulling my artery up closer to the surface, preparing it with his tongue.