Buried Passion

by Marianne Willis

  Strands of hair had escaped her bun and matted to the sides of her symmetrical face. What a perfect illusion. Harmless, almost human. He crouched, studying her. Hand extended, he almost stroked her cheek, as though the porcelain skin begged him to sample her softness. Never in his life had he met a woman so strange. Not that he socialised with vampires. Yet, this one was different. An instinct deep in his gut tugged with relentless force; Protection.

  Ian flinched, dropping his hand. Him? Protective over a vampire? He grit his teeth at the way he sensed it, was so in tune to such a vile creature. The fact she was female confused with his chivalrous nature. Beneath those ruby lips, fangs were ready to strike. He must never forget that.

  One limp, unconscious leech secured in his arms, he shoved the hoodie over her head and jogged to his truck. His house wasn’t far. After opening the passenger door, he guided her onto the foot space under the dash. Not that the spot provided much shade. What if she awakened on the short drive home and freaked at the sight of the sun again? Or better yet, went ballistic when she saw that it was him who aided her. With a roll of his eyes, he unzipped the sweater he wore and used it to shield her head. Either way, she was better off with her vision obscured. The engine started with a rumble, and he sped along the road. I better not regret this.

  ****

  Jolted awake, her heart elevated in her throat, followed by acute dizziness. A dark cover blocked her vision. Back inside the grave? No, not a grave. From the constant hum beneath her butt, she guessed a car.

  “What’s going on?” She raised the hem only to have the material thrust back down.

  “Keep the sweater over your head. Stay close to the shadowed area.”

  The man. She’d begged him to help her escape the sunlight and…he did. Jitters doused her like a bucket of ice water. The stranger she had intended to satisfy this unusual need for blood now protected her from the sun. Oh, that alone sounded absurd. But the light had sent chills down her spine. Bile had risen, all her focus had centred on how to escape. None of it made any sense.

  The vehicle stopped. A door slammed shut, followed by a squeak of another opening. Winter’s chill seeped into her clothes. Did he want her out of the car? Her limbs quivered as a strong hand secured hers. “What are you doing?”

  “Close your eyes. Keep them closed.”

  “Why—”

  “Do it, leech.”

  A sharp blade of dread stabbed her chest. Perhaps he never meant to help. This was it. She would be dumped at the bottom of a lake or hacked apart limb by limb and stocked in some rusty old refrigerator.

  “I’m going to carry you out of my truck.”

  So much for being relaxed. The statement left her rigid. Not again, she couldn’t face daylight again. The convulsions that consumed her when first spotting the sun disabled her limbs. In her distress, her speed had become non-existent. Beneath the natural light, weakness had conquered her body. And here he was, about to subject her to it again.

  “Please leave me alone.”

  “I’m sure many you’ve attacked said those exact words.”

  Brawny arms scooped her into their embrace. Lemon, and a hint of spearmint lingered off his skin. She squealed as he held her against him. This might be her last chance to fight and run away. Who was safer, the sun or him? Birds tweeted in the distance. A whistle of a breeze tickled her arms. Sunlight bathed the sweater over her. She grew paralysed beneath its penetrating warmth. His hold tightened when she tensed.

  Something slid down her arm. Both their breaths hitched. The sweater fell to the ground. As he picked up the pace, she squeezed his neck, ignoring the sun’s rays. “Please.”

  The groan of a door and a shadow over her closed lids verified they’d stepped inside a building. Footsteps rumbled against hardwood. A second later a downy mattress cushioned her fall. A blanket whipped over her head, infused with his fresh fragrance. Quick swooshing echoed around her. Was that curtains being flung closed? Her erratic heartbeat steadied.

  A door slammed, stomping shoes quieted. “Okay. It’s safe now.”

  She shoved off the blanket as he switched on a bedside lamp. A dim glow lit the expansive room. Whoa, he seemed larger in this light. Tall, broad, with skin a rich caramel. Prominent cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and full firm lips portrayed his Native American heritage. Damn he was hot, a lot like that actor, Jason Momoa, but without the long hair and beard.

  A king-size bed, tallboy dresser, and bedside tables constructed out of basic cedar furnished the room. No pictures of family or nice artwork complemented the space. Impersonal, best described the bedroom. Her gaze returned to the stranger. Head shaking, face taut, he paced in front of the bed, reminding her of a caged lion. Did that make her fresh meat?

  “I’m sure vampires blister in sunlight, not bad enough to kill the lousy bloodsuckers, but enough to hurt. Yet, nothing happened, even though you’re terrified of the sun.”

  The sun could harm her? No wonder she’d panicked. She patted her body and checked for injuries. With the first rays of sunlight, she hadn’t anticipated being scared out of her wits. Nothing. Not a scratch. So, why had she reacted the way she did? Hold on a minute. Was she buying into this? Fed up with his baffle-gab, she hopped off the bed and huffed. “Will you stop with the vampire theory.”

  “Theory?” His hand slashed through the air. The movement powerful and violent. If she had stood before him would he have struck her? “You mean to tell me you don’t know what you are?” His words boomed with the force of his voice.

  “I remember nothing of my life. I woke in a coffin, smashed my way out, then I ran from the cemetery.”

  The stranger rolled his eyes at her explanation. “Enough with your tricks, leech. I’m not falling for them.”

  Dammit, how could she convince him this wasn’t a ploy. “You said yourself, I did not burn.”

  “Well…” He shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t out long enough.” He pointed his index finger at her. “But I know what you are.”

  Eyes tapered, she assumed a threat lingered behind the words, but he paused, examining her with focus. Could he be wrong? What if she wasn’t a vampire, but a freak who sustained hunger through blood? She bit her lower lip. That sounded worse and didn’t explain her fear of the sun. She escaped a coffin, drank from two men who she considered prey, attempted biting this stranger…twice. Not such an absurd notion after all. She was a freaking vampire.

  Gaze on the ground, she spun away and covered her mouth. Her stomach solidified into steel. How could she deny the facts? This wasn’t some weird list of symptoms that would clear up in a few days. The perfect senses, strength, the speed and finesse… Chin raised high, she bared her teeth and turned to face him. “You intended to sizzle me on that road.”

  He cocked a brow. “This from the person who wanted to feed on my blood.”

  Touche. She threw her arms up. “Okay, so I’m a vampire. Why do I have a pulse?”

  With a knowing look, he shook a finger. “I see what you’re doing. Finding out how much I know about your kind, seeing what a threat I am? Whatever, I’ll play along. I may not have all the facts, but I do know Vampires are born, not resurrected. Garlic has the same effect as it has on all of us…bad breath, and sunlight is the one thing that harms you…or so it should have.”

  Well, thank goodness it hadn’t. Maybe she was a unique vampire. “What about you? I saw the way you changed. You also said we’re natural enemies.”

  “Here’s a dead giveaway.” He rolled up a sleeve. Sinew muscles and tendons sculpted his forearm. Her gaze danced over the half-moon tattoo inside of his wrist. “Do you recognise this?” he pressed when she blinked at the symbol.

  Other than simple ink, she had no idea. “Am I meant to?”

  A thick thumb stroked the marked skin. “I’m a werewolf.”

  A werewolf? She stiffened. First vampires, now this. How much more could she take? This was insane. But earlier, he’d grown claws and growled…oh his growl had sent shiv
ers through her pores. She hadn’t forgotten the change in his eyes, either: yellow and lethal. Dizziness smacked between her eyes and she closed them for a moment. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

  Dark, thick brows arched as he shot her a look.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Did you miss the memo?” he mocked. “The peace treaty amongst our kinds? The reason for the Annual Armistice Celebration?”

  She shook her head. He might as well be speaking another language.

  Wolfy seethed. “It’s a felony to attack any member of the species. How do you not know this?”

  “I already told you.”

  “Waking in a coffin with no memory…please.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yet, you have no problem remembering you drink blood.”

  And she still played with the idea. Her stomach grumbled as potent as earlier.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rachel…I’m pretty sure.”

  Head thrown back, he howled a laugh without humor. An armchair decked the corner of the room, and he slumped in the recliner as though drained by their conversation. He raked his hair, brows pinched together in frustration or confusion…perhaps both. She didn’t blame him. I sound insane.

  His face lifted from his hands. “Okay, Rachel or whoever the hell you are, tell me about this elusive escape from the coffin.” Out of the chair like a rocket, he strode toward her. That handsome, stern face leaned in so close, she craned her neck from his intimidating stare and fell back on the bed.

  “When did it happen?”

  Chin tilted, she sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “A few hours ago.”

  Cinnamon eyes skimmed the jumper she wore. “Your clothes? Where’d you get them, or is there a wardrobe in this coffin of yours?”

  The sarcasm was uncalled for. “No, I found this in a donation bag, after I drank from a man who tried attacking me.”

  He flinched. “Who?”

  “First these bikers, then later two robbers, but I took care of them, every one of them. My strength came as a surprise though.” An unstoppable smile tugged at her lips. “I felt invincible…until you.”

  His jaw clenched at the mention of those men. “And the sun,” he added with a cocked brow. “Why are you afraid?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re sure you’re unharmed?”

  Other than frightened beyond belief. “I’m sure. What I am certain of is I’m hungry and blood seems to be the one thing that satisfies me.”

  Dark pupils dilated, his gaze danced up and down her frame. The circumambient air grew warmer, coated with his refreshing scent. Aware of the intent in his gaze, her body tingled. Despite herself, the temptation to touch him arose. She almost laughed. As if this fierce man found her attractive when he clearly hated her.

  He blinked, then scowled as though realizing he’d been checking her out. “Stay in this room until I darken the house.”

  Before she could protest, he stormed out. Pain thrummed in her brain, worse than a freezer burn. The agony equivalent to what occurred earlier when she visualised kissing those men. Eyes shut, she clutched the sides of her head. Colors flashed behind closed lids, like strobe lights in a nightclub. Heat and sweat coated her skin as her breathing accelerated. She slid off the bed and sank to the floor, her knees burned along the carpet. A youthful face of a teenage girl peering into a compact mirror and applying lip gloss replaced the flash of lights. Not any girl…but a younger version of herself.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Tara mocked while scrolling through her phone playlist. “He won’t notice you.”

  She nudged her friend in the arm before tucking the mirror into her pocket. “You always know the right words to say.”

  They sat against a tree on the campground. Guys rode their bikes back and forth, practising on jump stands.

  Tara grinned and motioned her head toward a shirtless hunk. “Don’t you just love summer break?”

  Rachel relaxed against the cushy grass. “As long as our parents don’t find out. Do your folks think you’re staying with me for two weeks?”

  “Yep, and I bet yours believe you’re at my place for the summer.”

  “You know me too well.”

  Tara poked out her tongue. “What are best friends for?”

  More riders hopped onto the track. Rachel arched her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jeff.

  “Seeing if your lover has arrived?” Tara teased, flicking her brown hair over her shoulder as a group of guys winked when passing by.

  “Shut up.”

  “We’ve been sneaking out here for the past two years. When will you talk to the guy?”

  “When the time’s right.”

  “Do you remember when I first begged you to come to this camp out? You said you detested anything involving tents, the outdoors, and peeing anywhere other than a toilet.”

  Rachel smiled. “And if not for the promise of your signed Blink 182 poster, I never would have come.”

  “Yeah, but don’t forget the added bonus. One glimpse of the most gorgeous guy and you never wanted to leave.”

  It wasn’t his looks alone. She wanted to know him, learn about his beliefs, his interests, discover what shows he enjoyed and books he liked to read. Excitement lurched her out of her tent in the mornings. All this extra energy that swam inside her heightened at the sight of him. Every night she dreamed of him and every day her fantasies made him the lead star. Her world revolved around him, was submerged by him.

  She didn’t ask for this. Jeff was her sickness, a bad habit she craved. Every time camp was over and they returned home, she would live each day in agony, marking off the calendar until the next event, until she saw his face and sedated the knots in her stomach with a jittery rush of pleasure.

  The way Jeff possessed and controlled his bike stunts, and the poise he carried sent most girls’ heads spinning. Other girls ogled him for his handsomeness. Rachel sought something deeper; a friendship, a relationship. A chance to get to know him like no other. She cared little for the competitions, Jeff being the main reason she returned each year. Something about him drew her, even after two years she still couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “Don’t forget, he’s older, has a girlfriend, and is revered here, which equals out of your league.”

  All valid points, but an unnecessary reminder. A girl could dream, right?

  “Rumor has it he’s being sponsored next year?” Tara continued, turning to check the bark on the tree. Paranoia did that. The poor girl had a fear of spiders, and yet she loved camping. Weird. “That means he’ll no longer be at these events. As if he’ll have time with a busy schedule.”

  So, this might be her one chance to pursue a relationship. If she stole a single moment, a few seconds of bliss to talk to him, she’d die with a smile on her face.

  “Rory keeps asking about you. So many guys here will bend over backward to date you.”

  “I don’t want Rory, or any other guy. I want Jeff.”

  Among the confined trees along the bark-covered path, a young man sauntered down a dirt trek. Long dark hair flowed to his chest beneath the helmet. Gloved hands clutched chrome handlebars as he steered the bike to the start point.

  “Shut up,” she snapped at Tara, her full attention on the guy of her dreams. “Here he comes…”

  On hands and knees, she groaned. Colors accommodated the pulsation in her head. What the hell had that been; a memory of the past? Sweat dotted her forehead. She swallowed the lump in her throat. The sun hadn’t frightened her in that flashback. Was she not always a vampire? At least one thing she could be certain of, her name was indeed Rachel.

  Chapter 3

  A horrible case of bad luck. How else to explain the situation? Ian stood on a step-ladder, silver nail secured between his teeth as he aligned a blanket over the window. “All this for a damn vampire,” he muttered under his breath. Once he positioned the metal spike in place, he hammered it into the wall. H
ow many times had he received calls from telemarketers selling security shutters? Then again, he never imagined he would one day need this house dark enough to protect a vampire.

  He shook his head. When had he last brought a woman home? Now a vampire waited in his room, on his bed. The longer he’d stared at her, the more inappropriate images filled his mind. With his index finger, he traced his hipbone through his jeans, over the scar. One woman belonged in his bed, and he’d never see her there. He’d jump at the chance to have his mate alive and well. A nail slipped from his fingers and tinked against the floor. He blinked out of his deep thought. No point in musing over the impossible.

  As the last male member in his pack without a mate, the constant lovey-dovey couples became too much to bear. When Chayton had been single, they’d hung out more often, playing pool, video-games, going out for beers, running with the moon. And then there was the inside joke at every tribal event when they announced each other as their plus one. Yep, a typical bromance which ended once his best friend bonded with Amber. Now when the pack socialised, Ian usually sat alone.

  So, he left his hometown and headed to one of his properties. Time away was therapeutic, or so he thought. With his current dilemma, he might have been better off staying in Qualla Boundary. In front of his friends, he remained his usual cocky, chirpy self. But as for real happiness? A foreign word in his vocabulary. He might never enjoy the emotion. The lone wolf. He gave a bitter laugh.

  A groan echoed from his bedroom. What on earth? Ian jumped off the step-ladder, dashed down the hall and opened the door to his bedroom. Shit. His heart almost pounded out of his chest. The vampire knelt on the floor, clutching her head. Blood dribbled down her nose and dripped on her chin.

  Her eyes narrowed when spotting him. “Are you going to stand there or grab me something for my nosebleed?”

  He ran to the bathroom, snatched a clean washcloth, then raced back to her side.

  “What happened? Did you smack into a wall?”