by Kit Tunstall
Her eyes widened, and she immediately recalled the outcome of her two dreams. The realization seemed to hit her over the head. She had died in her previous lives. She had known that abstractly, but now wondered if each time she had died had been because of Nicholas’s reappearance.
His expression cleared, and he seemed to be visibly calming himself. “Eat, Emily. You need your strength. Drink all of your wine.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” she said as she lifted her fork and knife. “You never gave me the choice.”
He took time to eat a bite of steak before answering. “I couldn’t risk losing you. It was necessary.”
She cut through an asparagus spear with more force than necessary, causing the tender vegetable to shred under the force of her knife. “Was it necessary to kill my friends too?”
“They were there.”
She blinked, allowing a tiny bit of the grief she had suppressed to rise in her throat. Her voice emerged as a husky murmur. “Sara was my friend my whole life, since pre-school. Do you know what it does to me knowing you killed her? How can you expect me to feel anything for you, knowing what kind of monster you are?”
His expression remained bland. “You aren’t completely innocent.”
Her fork fell to the plate with a clatter. “What did I do wrong besides being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and met her eyes. “I saved the auburn-haired boy for your first feeding, Emily. I took his life, but his blood flows through your veins as we speak.”
Nausea churned in her stomach, and she pushed away from the table, shaking her head, desperate to deny his words. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t responsible for Ron’s death. “I didn’t do it,” she said forcefully. “You killed him, not me. I didn’t know.”
He looked up at her. “But does it matter if you didn’t know? You’re still receiving nourishment from your friend’s blood. If I’m a monster, so are you.”
Rage coursed through her, setting her teeth on edge, and making her thin pulse thump steadily. Before she could stop herself, Emily leapt from the seat and rushed forward, hurling herself at him. The impact of her body against his caused the chair to topple backwards, spilling them on the floor. She straddled his stomach and raised her hand. She brought it down with all of her strength and ripped at his face. When blood flowed from the wounds, a savage thrill of pleasure shot through her. She wanted to tear at him until nothing remained.
Emily slapped him on the other cheek, catching his nose with the sharp nail of her pinky. A chunk of his flesh tore away, and air hissed between his teeth. She pounded her fists against his chest, growing more enraged as he remained passive. “You’re the monster,” she screamed. “You did this to me.”
“Yes,” he said with an air of calm.
She hit him across the face again, reopening the wounds that had begun to heal. “I hate you for what you’ve done to me.” Her voice broke, but her anger remained pure, “What you’ve made me.”
“What have I made you?” His voice was a whisper of silk against flesh and held an unexpected note of tenderness.
“Like you,” she said with a sob and hit him again. He didn’t retaliate, and she ached for him to. “Why won’t you fight back?” He lifted a hand and she tensed, awaiting the pain, welcoming it as a reminder of who she was. If she hurt and bled, she could pretend to be human again, if only for a short time until she healed.
Instead, he pushed the hair off her face and over her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She sagged. “You can’t hurt me more than you have already.” Her hands lowered to the carpet under his back, and she started to get up.
He wrapped his arms around her to hold her against him. “I can’t be sorry for the choice I’ve made. I want you to believe I would never intentionally hurt you, but if I did, it had to be. I love you and want you with me. I’ll do anything to ensure that.”
Emily shook her head. “You contradict yourself. You claim to love me, but you don’t care what your love does to me.”
He scowled. “What has your love done to me, Emily? I’ve lost you four times, and I loved you more each time I found you. Each time, my heart died a bit more with you. If I could remove my love by tearing out my own heart, I wouldn’t hesitate.” His eyes clouded with pain. “To be able to walk away from you without feeling anything for you would be for the best, but I can’t do it. My soul is dead without you.”
“And now I’m dead too.” A tear splashed from her eyes and fell onto his lips. Her chest tightened with emotions she refused to acknowledge when he licked it away. “You can’t expect me to love you after what you’ve done to me.”
“You will,” he said with steely determination. “You do, but you’ve forgotten. With time—”
“I won’t stay with you,” she said.
His eyes were sad, and his voice was level. “I’ll always find you, no matter where you go. I won’t let you go. I can’t.”
A shiver ran through her at the tender possessiveness she saw in his expression. “You don’t own me.”
He shook his head. “I do. We’re bound to each other. You own me as surely as I own you.”
“I don’t believe that. It’s crazy.”
“Your mind may not believe, but your body does.”
Emily whimpered when he flipped their positions and pinned her underneath him. “No,” she said as his lips touched hers. She wasn’t sure whom she was speaking to—Nicholas or her own treacherous body—as desire spread through her. She wanted to push him away, but her mouth refused to listen to her brain. She eagerly returned his kiss, raking his lip with her fang. She flicked her tongue across the wound, lapping up the drops of blood before the puncture closed.
She murmured a protest when his hands ripped open the buttons on the blouse, but didn’t try to stop him. Instead, she buried her hands in his long hair and pulled him closer. Emily’s thoughts became hazier as his hands moved over her body, until she had no thoughts of resisting. Touching him no longer seemed wrong. In fact, it became necessary. Her body clamored for him.
Nicholas slid down the length of her after unfastening the bra. He kissed her stomach, near her bellybutton, and she arched against him. Emily’s breath lodged in her throat when she felt his fangs penetrate her skin. When he drank her blood, her arousal increased, and she moaned.
He pulled away a moment later, pausing only to lick one of her nipples before returning to her lips. He kissed her opened mouth, sweeping his tongue inside. One of his hands settled on her hip, and the other took possession of her breast. He moved his mouth to her ear. “Do you want to taste me?”
She nodded, incapable of speaking. He rolled on his side and pushed her face against his chest, near his left nipple. Her tongue darted out, seeking the artery leading to his heart. She could hear the blood flowing in his veins, blotting out the hushed buzz of the other heartbeats around the city. At that moment, there was only the two of them.
She found the vein and punctured his skin with a quick slice of her fangs. He tensed underneath her, and she instantly recalled the feeling of power that surged through her the last time she fed on him. Tonight, it was tempered with a stronger need—the need to feel him inside her, to be joined with him.
Blood flowed into her mouth, and she vaguely remembered it was the remnants of Ron’s life, but her disgust was fleeting and soon overwhelmed by the desire and hunger coursing through her. She wasn’t as ravenous or savage as last night and could feel the blood flowing around her fangs in small spurts. The process was slower, although infinitely more sensual, but the taste wasn’t as satisfying as the night before. She pulled away and lifted her head, frowning. “You taste different.”
He nodded. “The blood is tainted now. The best time for a proxy feeding is within an hour or two of consumption of fresh blood.”
She jerked away from him. “He was alive last night. You killed Ron last night?”
He sighed. “I had drank
lightly of him two nights before, but yes, last night I drained him to feed you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Why him? Why someone I know? Why not a person off the street?”
Nicholas’s mouth twisted. “As I’ve said, he was convenient. He meant nothing to me. Simply a means to an end.”
When she realized she was still lying under him, Emily pushed him away and sat up. “How can you be so cruel?”
“I’m realistic, and if that makes me cruel, so be it.” He waved his hand. “You’ll learn to do what must be done.”
“I would never hurt a friend.”
He ran a hand through his hair as if attempting to restore order. “He wasn’t my friend, if you recall. And don’t be so certain of what you will or won’t do when your survival depends on it.”
“I can only die once.” She glared at him and got to her knees. “You’ve already taken care of that.”
He put his hand on her arm, keeping her from rising to her feet. “Wrong, my love. Do you remember what I told you earlier, before you became so…emotional? You can still die as a vampire. To starve to death must be the worst way to go. It’s even more terrible than decapitation or burning alive. Your civilized side tells you what I’ve done is wrong, but your true nature understands and embraces my acts.” His voice lowered an octave, and his eyes burned with a red glow. “You’ve been waiting for me to return all this time. Deep in your heart, you’ve known what you were and would be again. Deny it all you want, but I know what’s inside you, Emily. I can hear your thoughts and feel your soul as clearly as my own.”
She shrugged off his hand and stood up so quickly her head spun. “You don’t know me or what I want. I don’t want any of this, and I don’t want you.”
“Liar,” he accused in an amused voice. “I can smell how much you want me. I could follow you to your room and take you now.”
“No.”
He nodded. “Yes, and you know you wouldn’t fight me. You want me as your lover. More than that, you need me to complete you. It’s the same for me.”
With a cry, she turned away from him and ran down the hall, struggling to block her thoughts from his. Their blood exchange had renewed the bond between them, allowing him to easily feel what she felt, and think what she thought. She would be able to clearly feel him too, if her powers were fully developed.
In her room, she slammed the door and locked it from the inside. She knew the flimsy flip lock wouldn’t keep him out if he chose to carry through on his threat, but felt more secure with it in place.
In her mind’s eye, she could picture him breaking through the door and carrying her to the bed. Emily’s thighs quivered, and she couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure that accompanied the thought. She didn’t understand her dark compulsions. How could she ache to belong to him? He had murdered her friends and taken her from everything she had known. She should hate him with all of her heart. So why did she continue to yearn for his touch?
With a frustrated cry, Emily hurried to the velvet drapes against the wall, tearing them down in a fit of rage, grinning at the ripping sound the fabric made. The new her seemed to revel in destruction, and it frightened a measure of control back into her.
Behind the curtain was a pair of locked French doors. She gathered her strength and kicked against the door, splintering the wood, sensing a means of escape. The ruined doors opened easily, and she stepped out onto the balcony.
The city sprawled out before her, farther than her eyes could follow. The lights hurt her eyes, causing her to close them. As soon as she did, her hearing increased tenfold. The sound of cars rushing by easily reached her from four stories below. From the end of the next block, she could hear the muted screaming of a man cursing at someone, followed by a cry of pain that sounded feminine. Most of all, she could hear millions of heartbeats joined as one, echoing through her ears.
Her eyes snapped open when she remembered the urge she’d had several nights ago to hold a beating heart in her hand until it stilled. She had no urge to relive the vividness of that image and forced herself to concentrate on a glowing neon light two blocks away, until the thought passed. She could see the sign as clearly as if she stood in front of it, and without her contacts. It was the first good thing she had discovered about her new state.
Casting a look over her shoulder, she wondered if Nicholas knew she was out here. She focused on emptying her mind and allowing only a tiny part to mull over how to escape.
She walked to the iron rail and glanced down. They were at least four stories up. If she jumped, she would surely die. Yet, a bullet through the brain hadn’t kept her from living again, so would a fall? She didn’t doubt it would be incredibly painful for a short time, but the pain seemed preferable to staying as Nicholas’s captive. It was only a matter of time before her body gave in to its urgings. She couldn’t allow that to happen.
Emily returned to the bedroom to retrieve her fanny pack from under the bed before taking her fleece jacket from the closet. As soon as she stepped inside, the roar of heartbeats settled to a muted murmur, and she wondered if Nicholas had caused that. She didn’t want to wait around to ask him, she thought with a quirk of her lips.
Standing in the walk-in closet, she slipped off the ruined shirt and pulled on a plush lavender sweater. Once she slipped on the jacket and fastened the pack, she returned to the balcony. With her first step outside, the mingled heartbeats flooded her senses again, making it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand, which would also make it difficult for Nicholas to read her thoughts.
She stumbled to the railing and took a deep breath, leaning over to look down, seeing an alley below. She used her keen eyesight to scan the recesses, determining the alley appeared to be deserted. She also saw a fire escape just a few feet below and to the side of the balcony. If she could make it to the ladder, she wouldn’t have to jump four stories onto cement.
Emily swung her leg over the railing and gripped it with both hands. Fear surged through her, and she was stuck for a moment, unable to continue, and unable to pull her leg over and go inside.
Finally, she remembered how to breathe again and slowly eased her other leg over the balcony. She maintained a white-knuckled grip on the railing as she eased each foot under the gap between the marble of the balcony and the rail. When she felt secure, she slid her hands down to the balustrades and slowly sank to a crouch. She hung there for a moment, gathering her courage.
Emily grasped the bottom of the railing and dropped one foot from the balcony, into midair. Her left leg screamed in protest at its cramped position, and she moved it away from the tenuous support of the balcony.
She hung suspended from the balcony railing, with her feet flailing for a hold. Emily craned her neck and judged the distance to the ladder, groaning when she realized it was farther away than she had thought. Her eyes fell on hunks of torn metal bolted to the side of the apartment building near the railing. Someone had deliberately ripped away the section of ladder connecting to the main escape.
Nicholas, of course.
She refused to cry out for help or attempt to get back in the room. Carefully, Emily slid her hand down the railing, releasing her left hand to move around a balustrade and grasp the rail on the other side. The world spun when she hung four stories up by one hand, but righted itself with a false sense of security when she again grasped the iron rail with both hands.
Moving slowly, she worked her way to the edge of the balcony. When she had gone around the corner and was pressed against the wall of the brick apartment building, she drew in a painful breath and waited for the vertigo to pass, ignoring the burning pain in her arms while keeping her hands locked around the balustrades at the same time as she kicked out with her left foot, attempting to connect with the ladder.
She missed and returned to the wall. Emily took a deep breath, wincing as her lungs burned, and swung her entire lower body. Her left foot touched the ladder before falling away. Her body jerked when she returned to a hanging pos
ition. Her right hand loosened, and she cried out when she started to fall. She immediately tightened her hold and calmed down before swinging again, this time kicking off against the wall from an awkward, twisted angle.
She sobbed with relief when her left foot landed solidly on a rung. She wedged her boot sideways to keep from falling away and hung there between the railing and ladder without moving for several seconds.
Now what? She couldn’t get her right foot on the ladder too. She simply wasn’t tall enough, and the fire escape was too far away. She would have to let go of one of the balustrades and reach for the ladder.
She choked back a cry and forced her left hand to relax its hold. As soon as she did so, she could feel herself sliding. She reached for the ladder and missed, causing her right hand to let go of the balcony railing. Emily started to fall and desperately tried to grasp the railing. She missed that too, and her foot slipped free from the rung.
She flailed her arms in an attempt to grab onto anything as she fell through the air. Nothing was within reach, and the ground rushed toward her. A scream tore from her throat as she fell past the first-floor window. She tried to brace herself for impact with the ground by putting an arm behind her head, but nothing prepared her for the pain that exploded up her legs, back, neck and head when she hit the concrete with a wet, smacking sound. The cracking sound of several of her bones breaking followed. Agony swept over her in debilitating waves. Emily found herself unable even to cry out, and couldn’t move at all. Her head filled with pressure, and she passed out under the onslaught. Death quickly followed.
Chapter Six
When Emily’s eyes opened, she noticed she still ached everywhere. That her eyes had opened was a good sign, she decided, and tried to sit up. Her back protested, but she was able to move. She sat frozen for a long moment, figuring out what hurt and what didn’t.
A constant dull twinge radiated from mid-back up to her shoulder blades. Her head throbbed with pain. Her legs felt fine, as did her arms, hands, feet and fingers. She lifted a hand to touch the back of her head and grimaced at the squishiness she found. She could feel her skull firming under her fingers.