by S. K. Ryder
The sun.
For all his determination to see daylight again, he realized now he had never truly believed it was possible. Or not so soon. And certainly not now that he was the literal center of the vampire world.
Tsunami waves of emotion crashed in his chest.
“I think I was expecting a little more excitement,” Jackson said, uncertain.
Cassidy wiped at her face. “We’re speechless,” she croaked.
Dominic found his voice, low and soft and in words that felt safely removed from the exposed nerves of his soul. “Have you eaten?”
Jackson’s turn to look off-guard. He shook his head.
“Then sit,” Cassidy said. “We’ll make something.”
“You—” He looked between them. “Okay.”
Dominic opened drawers and retrieved two pots and utensils before checking the fridge for the meat he had set to marinate last night. Cassidy poured more juice for Jackson and herself and headed to the pantry to collect the ingredients Dominic had in mind while his thoughts circled Jackson’s revelation at a wary distance. There was nothing to be done with it right this moment. The night had only just begun. He needed to stay busy. And staying busy for Dominic meant either getting on his bike and hunting for fresh veins to seduce, seducing Cassidy until she fell into a sated sleep, or cooking a meal he would never eat.
Maybe never eat, he amended and paused at this stunning possibility.
He didn’t trust himself to speak again until the flank steaks were seared on one side and flipped to the other on the stove-top grill. He didn’t look at Jackson. “Tell me about it.”
Jackson shifted in his seat. “Well, it’s not a cure, but it could be in the future. For now this compound can only suppress the condition when it’s at its weakest, during the day.”
Dominic addressed himself to the pot with the stewing vegetables. So, not a permanent cure. But if it would allow him to experience daylight again? Even for an hour? He would take it.
With a comforting touch on Dominic’s shoulder, Cassidy turned to face Jackson. “The ‘condition’ is genetic. Not an infection.”
“Right. And this targets the genome. Have you heard of gene editing?”
Cassidy had, though at the time she had written off the sensational little news item about designer pets as clickbait. Not so, Jackson now explained, but fact. The tech was legit and represented the cutting edge of possibility for curing all that ailed humanity—and others. The Striker labs had wasted no time applying the science to their own projects.
“And this is the result,” Jackson finished, placing a hand back on the case beside him. “This will hunt down the vampire mutations in Dominic’s genome and fix them while they’re dormant. Most of them anyway. The ones we haven’t figured out yet reverse the process once they become active again at night. So for now this is a suppressant more than a cure.”
“For now,” Dominic murmured as he seasoned the meat and fought the excitement simmering in his blood. So far this was all just talk. “How do you know this works?”
“I’ve seen it work.”
Dominic dropped the spatula and turned around. “You what?” both he and Cassidy said in unison.
“They tested this. I was there when they did.”
“On who?” Cassidy demanded.
“Not a who. A what.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes. A what? How badly had he misjudged this man now?
Jackson held up a hand. “Rats. They tested it on rats.”
“Rats?” Dominic repeated.
“Vampire rats?” Cassidy asked, incredulous.
Jackson nodded. “Yes.”
“They turned rats into vampires?” Dominic could barely comprehend.
“They had the serum and blood you donated. There’s nothing magical about the mechanics.”
He was speechless.
Rats. Forged into immortal beings with his serum and his blood, his DNA. Linked to the dark web. Linked to him.
Your younglings, Cassidy said, her silent voice outraged. She itched to evict Jackson at the point of a carving knife.
Dominic closed his eyes. No. Rats. They are only rats. I have no sense of them.
“They’re dead now,” Jackson said, hesitating, clearly unsure of just how much trouble he was in.
Cassidy clamped her mouth shut against an outburst, but her chin jutted forward and her eyes blazed. Dominic had to smile despite himself. His queen, his woman, his heart. There were no words for what he felt for her.
Sensing the warm emotion, she turned to him, surprised. Her shoulders relaxed. A small nod and she tucked a stray wave of hair behind one ear. The rats didn’t matter. Not in this context.
“Did your suppressant kill them?” Dominic asked.
“No. With the suppressant, they were fine during the day. Normal in every way. But once the sun was down, they became vampires again. We tried to see if the suppressant would kick in again the next morning. It didn’t.” No need to elaborate. The rest was easy to guess. The scientists left the animals exposed to daylight, and the rodent vampires did what vampires did in daylight.
“So, one dose will buy me one day.”
“Yes.”
“How is it done?”
“Well, it’s a shot, but it has to be administered directly to the heart at or after sunrise. Too early, and the suppressant is overpowered and purged before it can take effect.”
Which meant someone else would have to administer the shot. Someone human. He glanced at Cassidy who hunched her shoulders almost imperceptibly.
You don’t know nearly enough to take a risk like that.
His mouth twitched. I will by the time the night is done.
Knowing what this implied, Cassidy cocked a brow at him, glanced at Jackson, and went to retrieve a bottle of wine for herself. I’m going to need this.
As Cassidy and Jackson enjoyed the meal he prepared, Dominic sipped Perrier water, relishing the effervescence in his mouth and letting the liquid take the edge off his other appetites. He asked more questions. Jackson answered what he could. Nothing about his manner indicated deception. But if there was one thing at which Jackson Striker excelled, it was deception.
Under the influence of the wine, Cassidy grew animated, and Dominic faded into the background of the conversation as she and Jackson became reacquainted. They shared much these two, not all of it ugly. She had once cared for Jackson. And judging by his warm laughter and dilating pupils, he still cared for her.
As for Dominic and Jackson, they trusted each other, though only to a point. Jackson and his uncle were capable, ruthless, hunters, and while it suited them to work on his behalf, Dominic labored under no illusion that they wouldn’t come after him again the moment he gave them the slightest cause—or became vulnerable.
As he would be if he allowed himself to be injected with a mysterious substance during the day.
Yet, the promise of Jackson’s gift blazed like a beacon in the eternal night of his existence. How could he refuse?
Beware the fire. Alarming as the words were, Serge’s prognostications were never literal. Nor did he convulse in a fit of laughter if he perceived a true threat. Whatever this fire, it wasn’t sun fire.
“Well, it’s getting late,” Jackson said when the conversation lulled after almost three hours. “I should be going.”
Cassidy emptied the remnants of her wineglass.
Dominic said nothing.
“Did you make a decision about giving this a try?”
Dominic leaned on his elbows and toyed with the empty water glass. “I have one more question.”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“Why are you giving me such a gift?”
“Why? Seriously? Isn’t this what you’ve wanted fo
r as long as I’ve known you?”
“It is. And I always hoped that you would be true to your word and genuinely attempt to find a cure for me, for all of us, but—”
“But you never expected I’d deliver? Nice.”
“You have a way of surprising me, Jackson Striker.”
He glanced at the empty plates and bowls. “I could say the same for you.”
Now Dominic smiled and sat back in his chair. “Then allow me another surprise. I will not accept your gift without one more concession from you.”
The hunter’s wariness was instantaneous. “Oh?”
“I need to know your mind. Your true mind.”
Every muscle in Jackson’s face hardened. Vampires had fed from him, but none had ever asked permission. It would be a simple thing for Dominic to do the same, leave no trace, and make Jackson forget it ever happened. But the hunter was skilled at recognizing and reversing compulsions placed on him. He would remember eventually, and whatever respect Dominic had earned with him would vanish.
Cassidy propped her face in one hand. “You didn’t expect Dominic to trust you with his life on your word alone, did you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jackson said, also sitting back, tension bunching his shoulders. “I guess I thought we were past the trust issues.”
“Too many depend on my continued survival, which makes trust a luxury I cannot afford.” Dominic lowered his voice. “But what you offer is irresistible. That I ask you to open your mind to me instead of simply tearing it open along with your throat should say much about my regard for you.”
“I see. And . . . if I don’t agree?”
“Then you may take your gift . . . and go.” Dominic had to scrape the last two words out of his throat. More than his dream of seeing the sun again was at stake here. If Jackson refused this request, the implied deception would forever alter their relationship. And not for the better.
Jackson considered while he rubbed at the stubs that remained of the ring and pinkie fingers of his right hand. “You’re willing to turn your back on a chance to see the sun again . . . because I refuse to give you something you could simply take?”
“Oui. I am.”
“You’re right. I’m surprised.”
Dominic waited, flattened by the power of his sudden longing for Jackson’s blood, his mind, his heart.
His trust.
Jackson pushed back his chair and stood. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Cassidy repeated.
“Yes. Fine. If that’s what it’ll take for you to trust me with this, then you can—” He gestured resignation with one hand. “You can, God help me, feed from me.” He scrubbed the same hand over his face. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”
A nameless thrill raced along Dominic’s nerves.
Hell may have just frozen over, Cassidy thought, but kept her expression remarkably neutral.
Nonsense. I am impossible to resist, non? Dominic countered, grateful for the humor to break the tension. She squeezed her lips together, but he could hear her derisive snort anyway.
“You do realize that once my serum is in your blood, there will be nothing you can hide from me.”
“And I’m opening myself up to major compulsion. Yes. I’m very aware. Remind me again, why don’t you, and I’ll change my mind.”
Dominic got up and moved around the dining room table, one hand caressing the brocade backs of the chairs he passed. The thump of Jackson’s heart was beginning to drown out the Euro-jazz streaming over the house sound system. “Blood offered without compulsion or deception and with full knowledge of the consequences. This is precious to me beyond words. I shall not abuse such a gift.”
When he stopped in front of Jackson, arguments and warnings blazed in the human’s bright eyes. “I’m letting you see what you need to decide. That’s all this is. Get what you need and get out.”
Dominic produced his most disarming smile. That wasn’t how he fed.
“I know why seeing the sun again means so much to me. But tell me this . . .” In a blur of speed, he had his mouth against the slightly taller man’s ear and whispered, “Why is this so important to you?”
“What the fuck?” Jackson yelped but caught himself, jerking his head aside only a little. The artery in his neck pulsed with shimmering life energy in Dominic’s eyes. “Maybe turning you back into a human is less trouble than having to kill you.”
“Aww chèr,” Dominic said on a sigh. “I always knew you cared.”
“Don’t get all weird.” The last word came out in a gasp as the teeth sliced the warm skin.
Intoxicating blood filled Dominic’s mouth. Thick, salty, and powerfully male. One swallow, two, and then the blood no longer mattered. Then he had the mind.
Jackson wasn’t aware of him in his head like Cassidy was. Yet his thoughts bristled with a well-practiced obscuring anger. Dominic brushed against it like a summer wind against a wall of brittle ice. Without something concrete to rail against, the anger quickly crumbled.
No, Jackson was no blood-drinker advocate. Far from it. He either pitied or despised them, killing both with equal ease as needed, and credited only one vampire with any honor at all even as he considered him a rival for the affections of a woman he knew he would never have again. So it was for his lingering love for Cassidy and for his growing respect for Dominic that Jackson Striker had spared no expense in finding the cure Dominic sought so desperately.
It was all there. The researchers, the experiments, the discussions, the fascination and the hope. Even the rats. Dominic was appalled by their tiny fangs and supernatural reflexes. And he was stunned when they succumbed to the day and then were dosed with tiny needles to their hearts. They jerked back to consciousness.
At the awe-filled memory of seeing them blink unharmed into the light of day, Dominic stopped drinking. He licked the punctures, sealing and cleaning them, but did not release his hold on Jackson who remained stiff in his arms.
The rats reverted to their true natures as night returned. In their steel security cages, they were ruthless with their mortal brethren and with each other. In his memories, Jackson flinched to see a vampire animal dispatch its mortal companion with bloody brutality. The scene transported him back in time over five years, deep into a long-abandoned subway station. A young man exactly like himself stood cornered by a male vampire who appeared uncoordinated and, to Dominic’s eye, more than a little panicked.
“Why isn’t it asleep? What’s wrong with it?” Jackson’s twin brother, Justin, demanded, eyes casting about for answers. They were to be his last coherent words. The vampire caught him and shoved him against the filthy tile wall, then tore into his throat.
The hunters had tracked the vampire there. With the sun up for almost an hour now, he should have been an easy target to dispatch. He was anything but. Justin screamed and clawed at the creature. His brother threw himself against its back. A deafening cacophony of shouts, shrieks and snarls rang in the confined space. It lasted only seconds. With one mighty swipe and a great arc of blood, the vampire ripped the head from Justin’s shoulders.
Then he turned to Jackson, fangs bared, his beast asserting itself, turning into a skeletal incarnation of terror. Jackson raised his hand, blocking the inevitable, when a sword blade flashed from the side, taking off the vampire’s arm. Not until much later would Jackson realize that two of his fingers had also come off.
Garrett slashed again, and this time hacked off the head. The body pitched and collapsed. One of the clawed hands slammed into Jackson’s leg and scraped downward, cutting a deep gash into his inside thigh. Garrett kicked the head and the arm into a sewer drain. Jackson’s fingers went with them. He didn’t know, nor care. He was petrified with shock. He swayed on his feet, ears ringing. The room spun.
Garrett, looking
every inch the blood-spattered warrior, surveyed the scene, his face hard with rage. Only when Jackson crumpled to the ground did Garrett turn to see the blood pooling around his surviving nephew. He fashioned a crude tourniquet high on the leg with a strip of rope and a dagger. “We need to get you to a hospital,” he said, pulling Jackson back to his feet and preparing to half-carry him. “Hold it together.”
“Justin. We can’t . . . we need to—”
“It’s too late for him, kid. And I’ll be damned if I lose you, too.”
While Jackson recovered physically, his twenty-one-year-old self felt ripped in half and poured out. He tried to live the life he was supposed to live and, when asked, shared that his twin had died in a hunting accident. No one ever asked about the prey they hunted, the mystery of why it had been conscious at that time of day was never solved, and Jackson wanted nothing more to do with his family’s legacy.
He was done.
But he realized how not done he was when he came upon the girl trying and failing to fight off the unwanted attentions of two drunken coeds. Never had he known the kind of rage that fueled his punches on them. That girl had been Cassidy, and in the months that followed, she had taught him to feel again. By the time he brought her home as his bride-to-be, he was ready to hunt again. He was ready to avenge his brother.
And then Dominic had entered his life and upended everything Jackson knew about vampires and tolerance.
“Goddamn you,” Jackson choked out and tried to break free. “Why am I remembering this shit? Get the fuck out of my head!”
Another pair of arms came around him. Cassidy’s warm female scent merged with Jackson’s bitter anger. Through their link she had experienced every one of these memories just as Dominic had. Her sigh was one of care and sorrow. “Oh, Jackson.”
Jackson trembled between them, fighting he knew not what. His right hand, the one with the two truncated fingers, found one of Cassidy’s on his chest and pressed tight.