Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy)

by Susannah Sandlin

  “It’s almost dawn,” he said. “I’ll take you out of Penton tomorrow night, I promise. Back to Americus. Wherever you want to go.”

  He looked down to see her reaction but she’d fallen asleep. He kissed her cheek and pulled away from her. Could he do it? Let her go, try to wipe her memories clean of him, and never see her again?

  “Don’t do it, Aidan.” Melissa stood in the door—and obviously had been eavesdropping. “I’ve never seen you like this around anyone, and she feels the same way. If you take her back to Georgia, you’re a damned fool.”

  “It’s almost dawn. I’m out of here.” Aidan looked at his fam sharply as he brushed past her. “Stay out of this, Mel. It’s none of your business.”

  He stomped into the clinic parking lot and came up short. His car was still at the restaurant; he’d ridden here with Mirren. He pulled the phone from his pocket, and then shoved it back in. The walk might do him good; help flatten this screwed-up swirl of feelings.

  His anger at Owen had lain dormant a long time. Out of sight, out of mind. Turned out it had just been festering. Seeing his brother with Krys had brought back all the old nightmares: Owen with Abby, her blood on his face, Aidan holding her while she died.

  He’d reached the edge of his yard and circled to the greenhouse. Faint light from the street filtered through its retractable glass, illuminating the neat aisles and giving the flowers a luminescent glow.

  What a joke. Another place for him to play at being human, when he’d seen the truth tonight. He wasn’t any better than Owen was. He’d wanted to hold Krys in his arms and drain every bit of blood from her. Would he have been able to stop had Mirren not been there? Now she was going to pull through and he wanted to lock her up where no one but him could ever touch her again. The only way he knew to keep her safe was to get her away from Penton, and away from him. If he loved her—and after tonight, he realized that he did love her, God help him—he’d do that for her.

  He ran his hand along the smooth wooden shelves that held the plants, stopping at the night-blooming hibiscus, the deep burgundy throats of the blooms paling to almost white at the edges. Like the eyes of a hungry vampire. He plucked a bloom from the plant and crushed it in his fist, and then toppled the whole shelf with a satisfying crash of broken glass and bent metal shelving.

  “Make you feel better, did it?”

  Aidan whirled to see Mirren’s bulk shadowed in the greenhouse door.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact. It did.”

  He reached for another shelf and sent pots and plants into a heap of blooms and dirt, and reached for another, then another.

  The world spun, and he found himself on his belly, one of Mirren’s big boots on the small of his back, a hand the size of a dinner plate clamped on the back of his head, pressing his face into the dirt.

  “I don’t like where you’re headed, A. I’m not letting you go there. You hear me?”

  Aidan pushed himself up with his hands, only to have Mirren put more weight on the foot and shove him back down.

  “Remember where and when you met the famous Slayer?”

  Aidan tried to shut him out, but couldn’t help remembering Mirren thinner even than Owen’s skinny wraiths, starving himself, making himself too weak to be the Tribunal’s paid killer after he decided that the people he worked for were bigger monsters than the ones he was being told to kill. Aidan had heard tall tales of a fanged man living in the woods outside Atlanta during the Civil War, daring soldiers to shoot him, occasionally killing one. He’d managed to track him down, helped him fake his death, and kept him off the Tribunal’s radar. Until now.

  The hand on his head pressed harder, and Aidan had to clamp his lips shut to avoid eating dirt.

  “Tell me you remember.”

  “Mmmph.”

  The pressure on his neck and back disappeared, and Aidan sat up, spitting soil. “Not the same, Mirren. I’m not suicidal.”

  “The hell you’re not. You’ve built Penton into somewhere we can all have a life, not just an eternity of the same old empty shit. You get your ass killed, that’s fine, my friend. But stop and think what’s going to happen to everybody else who’s here.”

  “You could run the town.”

  “You’re right, Aidan. I could.” He turned and walked toward the door. “But I won’t.”

  Krys burrowed under the quilts and cracked one eye open. She pulled her wrist in front of her face to check the time but her watch was gone. Had she forgotten to put it on?

  She fought off a panic attack as it all came back to her. Taking deep breaths, she reached a tentative hand to her neck and flinched at the shot of pain when she touched the bandages. She hadn’t dreamed it. Aidan’s brother had attacked her. A vampire had attacked her. And another one saved me.

  She vaguely remembered Owen dropping her on the ground, then Aidan lying on the bed next to her before she’d fallen asleep. Everything else was a blur.

  The bed creaked as she threw the covers back and sat up, bracing herself with her hands until her head quit spinning. She felt fuzzy and heavy-limbed. How much blood had she lost? A bandage circled her forearm, and she pulled it off to see the needle mark. She vaguely remembered Melissa giving her blood.

  Holding onto the furniture for balance, Krys beat a slow path to the bathroom. A digital clock had been placed on the dresser since the last time she’d been here. Three p.m. Holy cow. She’d been out at least fourteen hours.

  She used the bathroom, and then stopped in front of the dressing table mirror. Framed by her dark hair, her face looked almost translucent. I look more like a vampire than the vampires do.

  Splashing her face with warm water helped. Her brain started working better, and she felt as though she’d only had a few beers instead of a case of Irish whiskey.

  She took a shower, careful to keep the bandages on her neck dry and still wash her hair—no easy task. Bits of dried blood were caked in her scalp, smeared across her shoulders, even on her hands. She scrubbed so hard her skin burned under the water, but she wanted all traces of Owen gone.

  She pulled on a loose sweatshirt and jeans, brushed the tangles from her hair, and went back to wait for Aidan. She started the fire and sank into the sofa, leaning against the back cushions and concentrating on her breathing. No thoughts of Owen—her only focus was on the one decision she’d come to during her periods of waking and sleeping. Aidan wouldn’t like it, but she would insist.

  At six, the knock at her door set her heart racing, but her first thought when she opened the door was how exhausted he looked. She wanted to help him but his problems were far beyond her abilities. She’d been naïve to think she could do anything more than be there for him.

  His expression brightened as he scanned her face. “You’re looking really good after what you went through last night. You scared me.” He sat beside her on the sofa and pulled the bandage away from her neck, wincing at her hiss of pain. “Sorry. It’s healing fast, though. It’ll heal better without the bandage.”

  “Uh, doctor here. Remember?”

  He smiled. “Right. You would know that.”

  She finished pulling the bandage off and tossed it on the coffee table, running her fingers along the wounds that had begun to scab. “It’s healing a lot faster than it should, actually. Did you do something? Your saliva has a clotting agent in it, right? My memories are fuzzy.”

  He nodded. “I got the bleeding stopped till we could get you to the clinic. You remember getting blood?”

  She squinted. “Sorta. How much did I need?”

  He held up two fingers. “Mel’s going to take a look at your neck in a little while.”

  Krys had vague memories of Melissa helping clean her up and get her undressed. “I like Melissa,” she said. “She’s lonely, you know.”

  “I know.” Aidan fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt, and Krys had the feeling he was trying to scrounge up the courage to say something.

  “What is it?”

  He leaned back
on the sofa and looked at her. “Do you remember what I told you this morning before I left? That I’d take you home tonight?”

  Krys stared at him. “Home?” Her heart starting doing that thumpy thing again and she wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or happiness or sadness. Not true. Own your feelings. Admit what it is.

  “Back to Georgia, or wherever you want to go.” His jaw tightened and he looked at the fire. “I shouldn’t have kept you here. I can’t stand it that Owen got within a mile of you.”

  Hands splayed on her knees, Krys frowned and nodded. Now that he’d said it, she wasn’t surprised. She should have realized he’d find a way to blame himself. Well, she didn’t want his guilt, and she didn’t want to leave him. There. She’d owned it.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Look, I’m not stupid. If I’d thought about it instead of bolting, I’d have realized it wasn’t safe. For God’s sake, Owen had just burned down the restaurant and killed all those people. Don’t hold yourself responsible because I acted like a fool.”

  He shook his head and started to speak, but she put her fingers over his lips. “Let me say this before I lose my nerve. I ran because I was afraid, because I realized I didn’t want to leave, and it scared the crap out of me.” She looked at the floor, afraid to see his expression.

  “You didn’t want to leave?” His voice was incredulous.

  She shook her head and finally got the courage to look at him. “I want to stay here a while, like we agreed, only longer, maybe. I don’t want to go home—I don’t even know what home is anymore. Let me show Melissa how to run the clinic better and we’ll see how things go.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. But she’d made her decision. If he drove her away, she’d just come back.

  Aidan was quiet for a long time, and she steeled herself for him to tell her to pack her bags. The irony of the whole situation wasn’t lost on her.

  “You’ve surprised me,” he said finally. “I don’t get surprised very often.”

  “Well, I’m going to surprise you again.” OK, this was it. “I promise to be careful, but if Owen grabs me again, I don’t want him being able to feed from me and make me think I want it.”

  Aidan frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Damn if he wasn’t going to make her ask for it. “When he was feeding from me at first, all I could think was how good it felt, how I didn’t want him to stop, even though another part of my mind realized that he was going to kill me. I didn’t care if he killed me, as long as he didn’t stop.” Krys crossed her arms, anger flaring at the memory. “If someone kills me, fine. But I’ll be damned if they should make me think I want it. You need to bond me.”

  Aidan grew very still, very vampirelike.

  When he didn’t say anything, she gritted her teeth and slid closer to him. “Look, I want to stay here a while, and this is the best way to keep me safe. It’s not that big a deal, right? I want this.”

  Still he didn’t answer, and she shivered at the icy cast that had come over his eyes.

  “You’re hungry,” she said. “Your eyes always turn light like that when you’re hungry.”

  He gave her a small smile, a slight up-curve of the edges of his mouth. “There are all types of hunger, Krys.”

  Heat crept up her face, and she tried to slow her racing heartbeat without much success. She cleared her throat, determined to plow through this awkwardness that she’d started. “Bonding,” she said. “Does it involve, uh, you know.” She waved her hands in the air. “Sex?” She kind of hoped it did.

  Again that hint of a smile. “Not unless we want it to,” he said, his eyes still more icy than blue. “A regular bonding between a vampire and a familiar is a simple blood exchange. I take yours, and you take mine.”

  Before she could catch herself, Krys wrinkled her nose at the words blood exchange.

  Aidan smiled. “You probably won’t find it as horrible as you think, or so I’m told. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  He might as well have slapped her.

  “If you find it objectionable, then get someone else to bond me to. If you want me to stay here, you’ll do this.” The longer he remained quiet, the more stupid she felt.

  Aidan stood up and reached out a hand. She looked at it for a few seconds and then stood on her own. She didn’t need his help. “Never mind. I’ll talk to Mirren.” Like Mirren was going to do anything without Aidan’s OK.

  He made an exasperated noise that sounded like an honest-to-God growl. “No one else is going to touch you—ever. You got that?”

  Her heart flip-flopped at the caveman thing. Who knew? After spending a lifetime trying not to be controlled by anyone, that little sound of possessiveness filled her with a desire so fierce that she clenched her fists to keep her hands from touching him.

  He stroked a thumb over her cheek, and then slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her body against his. She thought he was going to bite her, and steeled herself for the stab of pain. Instead, he brushed his lips over hers, bringing a flash of memory, of pale blue eyes and lighter hair. She willed Owen’s face out of her mind.

  Aidan’s kiss was gentle, tentative at first. He nipped lightly at her lower lip, and she opened her mouth to him, then slid her arms around his neck and grabbed a handful of that beautiful, thick hair.

  He pulled away from the kiss, smoothing her damp curls away from her face. “Are you sure about this?”

  She nodded, and he pulled her toward the sofa.

  “No.” She walked toward the bed instead, trying not to think about what she was about to do, and she didn’t just mean the blood exchange. “Let’s do the bonding here. I want you to replace the memories of him in my head, to remind me what it really feels like to want someone.”

  Aidan’s eyes paled again as he stretched out beside her on top of the quilt. She reached for him, pulling him into another kiss. He ran a hand down her arm and then pulled it to his lips, kissing the back of her wrist and turning it over to expose the smooth skin of her forearm.

  “No,” she said again, and turned her head to expose the other side of her neck, opposite where Owen had fed. Aidan paused, and she thought he was going to refuse. But finally, slowly, he smoothed her hair away, running his lips from her mouth to her jawline and down to her neck.

  She closed her eyes and bathed in the softness of it; his hands roaming over her stomach, her breasts; the soft fall of his hair on her cheek; the smell of sandalwood; and the heat of his mouth on her. His tongue swiped a spot below her ear and the sharp prick of his fangs caused her to flinch momentarily, but the pain was quickly replaced by an overwhelming pleasure and heat building in a spot nowhere near her neck. She was floating, tethered to earth only by the soft pull of his mouth, and she wasn’t sure if she’d moaned aloud or only in her head.

  It seemed no time had elapsed before he withdrew, leaving her empty and wanting. He rolled to his back, pulling her with him with one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other to pull out a small knife. Watching her with slightly unfocused eyes, he flicked it open and drew a short cut across the side of his own neck.

  “Taste me.” His whisper sent shivers dancing over her skin, and Krys tried not to think about what she was doing as she stretched her body across his and laid her lips lightly to the cut. The taste was sweet, salty, warm—not the hard metallic tang she expected. She drew on the cut and felt a sigh shudder through Aidan’s body. She continued until he stopped her a minute later.

  “I can’t stop the bleeding like you can,” she murmured. She felt drunk, in a good kind of way.

  “Watch the cut.” Even as he said the words, it slowly closed.

  Krys began to move away, but Aidan held her next to him and turned his head to kiss her again. She didn’t have to see the color of his eyes. She could feel his desire pressing against her. She’d never known one person could want another so badly. She had his blood in her veins; now she wanted that velvet hardness inside her as well.

  He groaned
and wrenched away from her suddenly. The band tying back his hair had gotten lost somewhere along the way, and as he sat up, he gazed back at her through a tangle of chestnut waves. She shivered at the feral look of need on his face.

  “It’s all right,” she said, reaching for him. “I want you to stay.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I can’t make love to you again without it meaning something I can’t ask of you. God, I know that doesn’t make sense, but I can’t...I have to go.” He got up and walked to the door. He didn’t look back.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Aidan heard Mark open the back door a half hour before dawn. He’d been holed up in his basement den, thinking. Melissa would have called it brooding.

  He had plenty to brood about. After he’d left Krys, the lieutenants had gathered and decided to use her idea. Their fams would hunt during daylight hours, looking for Owen’s hiding places—but only those who volunteered.

  Most of his brooding was about Krys, though. Whatever screwed-up DNA formed the vampire bonding mind-set, it was screaming at him. And even if he wanted what it was selling, Krys had almost died last night. She might want to have sex with him, but mating was part of the deal for him now that he’d had her blood, and she had no idea what she’d be signing on for. To her it was as simple as making love or voicing a commitment. How did he explain that he couldn’t touch her without wanting her, and that he couldn’t have her without its being long-term? Really long-term. There were no one-night stands or short-term affairs for mated males.

  As soon as she realized what it meant, she’d reject him the way Abby had. He couldn’t do it again.

  Head resting on the back of the sofa, Aidan shifted his gaze to the drop-staircase when it lowered and Mark’s boots clattered downward.

  Mark collapsed in a nearby recliner, pulling a beer from each pocket, tossing one to Aidan and popping the tab on his own. “So, guess you know Melissa made me come over here.”

  “Mel needs to get a hobby—one besides me.” Aidan popped his own beer and took a sip. “Man, this stuff’s foul.”