by Ines Johnson
What do I do? How do I save him? There's a fucking tree limb in his chest.
"Go," he says. "Live."
Karma is a true bitch. Those are the same words my Papa said to me before he died. I do not deserve this. I have been a good girl. I’ve never hurt anyone.
"You're not dying,” I tell him.
Hadrian shuts his eyes as though he's weary. His hands come up to the limb and he tries to grip it.
"You shouldn't move it," I tug his hands away.
"Pull it out,” he says.
"You'll bleed out. You'll die."
"I won't. I promise."
It's madness. It’s impossible. But I believe him.
"Pull it out,” he says.
I take a deep breath. I wrap my hands around the branch. My fingers do not meet at either end. I reach somewhere deep inside myself and I tug the branch.
I tug it like my life depends on it. Because my life does depend on it. If Hadrian dies, I will not go on. I can’t. No amount of mental therapy or exposure therapy or adrenaline sports will keep me here in this life.
So, I tug with everything inside of me. Wonder of wonders, the branch comes free. But with it comes a lot of blood.
Hadrian coughs up blood. It splutters on me, landing on my lips. I know this is bad. Whenever anyone on TV has blood come out of their mouth it always means certain death.
But Hadrian takes a deep breath. He doesn’t cough this time. I look down to see the skin around the gaping hole in his chest begin to knit before my eyes.
My limbs begin to shake as I watch the impossibility. Dizziness threatens to take me as I witness the inconceivable. My bladder threatens a mutiny as I crab walk backward and away from him.
"Cari. Cari, stop. You're hurt yourself.”
My ass tumbles out of the passenger seat. When I land it’s on a cushion of brittle twigs and broken glass from the windshield. There is a pain in my side. I look down and see the red stains on my dress. Through the ripped fabric, I see the gaping gash.
The wound is leaking blood. I feel lightheaded instantly. I’m losing too much blood. And unlike Hadrian, my skin isn’t miraculously knitting itself back together.
Chapter 27
Hadrian
The stake only penetrated deep enough to actually hurt. Not enough to end me. It’s not the first time I’ve had something pierce my heart. This was how most arguments with Domitia used to end.
It would begin with shouting--hers. Then pleading--mine. She would screech that I was holding her captive. I would insist that I loved her. But my love was never enough. When I tried to hold onto her she’d go for my heart. She never sent the stake all the way through. She did twist it once when she was really pissed.
If you live long enough, history repeats itself.
But unlike Domitia, Cari pulls the stake from my heart. Cari brings me back to life. Cari makes me want to live.
With the bark gone from my internal organs, my healing has already begun. But I am in a whole other world of hurt.
Cari is wounded. I smell her blood before I see it. My mouth doesn’t water at the potent mix of adrenaline and fear that seeps from her body. My fangs are ready to tear apart my own flesh to bandage hers.
The gash at her hip isn't deep enough to kill her. It’s deep enough that she will need medical attention, and soon. The elements are not kind to the human body. They break so easily. I know. I am a master of breaking them down.
Out here in the wild, she is susceptible to all manner of infection. Or simply just losing too much blood. But I can heal her. I just need her to stop backing away from me.
"Carignan, stop. You'll hurt yourself."
"What are you? A demon?"
There’s fear in her gaze. Her eyes bulge and she stops blinking, as though she’s afraid that if she closes them I’ll be on her.
I am on her. Not to hurt her. I would sooner carve out my heart and serve it to her on a platter than allow even her fingernails to break.
But her body trembles beneath me. Tears stain her cheek. Her chin wobbles. Her chest rises and falls in rapid motions.
She is in pain and in panic. Two of my favorite flavors. It makes my stomach turn now.
I want to take it all away. Her fear of me. Her pain. Her dawning knowledge of what I am. I don't want her to find out this way. But here we are.
“I am not a demon,” I say. “I am…”
I am what? Because my first statement is a lie.
I am a killer. I am a torturer. I am a parasite. Nothing that any woman could ever truly love.
Carignan blinks rapidly. Her breathing has slowed so that she is taking full, deep breaths. Her body remains tense, but she’s no longer backing away from me. She holds still.
"You saved my life," is what I finally say. "Let me save yours."
"Are you even alive?"
"Not before the day that I met you. You brought me back. You made me want to live. You gave me something to live for. I will not let you die now."
I hold out my hand to her. She hesitates. Her gaze flicks over my fingers, my palms. I’d bound her not too long ago with these hands. I’d hoisted her up with my fingers. I’d held her to me with the press of my palms.
Carignan’s gaze flicks to my face. I hold her gaze and latch on. I could so easily compel her.
She wants to trust me. She doesn't want to believe that I am a monster. But that is the truth.
I look away from her, no longer able to meet her gaze. I reach down to her hip, where her wound lays exposed. She jumps as I touch her side. But she doesn't pull away from me.
Opening my mouth wide, I let loose my fangs. The sharp points piercing my gums is a familiar pain. Added to that is something new. Cari’s sharp intake of breath fills the night’s silence. And then she says the word I can not.
“Vampire.”
Instead of answering her, I bite my wrist. The blood spills from my veins and over my flesh.
Carignan’s breathing is shallow as she watches it, like she is in a trance. I place the stream of blood against her flesh, mingling my blood with her own. Instantly, her blood loss stops. The wound begins to knit itself.
Once her skin is sewn back together, I lift my wrist to her mouth. "Drink," I command.
"You're going to turn me into a vampire?"
"No, my treasure. I just want to be sure you'll heal. Drink."
Still she hesitates. My patience has reached its end. I force command into my voice.
"Carignan, drink."
Her head comes closer. The heat of her breath touches my thumb. Her lips part. And then she pulls back. "Are you mind controlling me?"
"No."
"Have you ever mind controlled me?”
I growl. There’s a battle raging inside me. I could press her head to my wrist and make her drink. That would be the most logical if the goal is to keep her healthy and alive.
But I am a man in love. And so I go the irrational, emotional route. “Yes."
Her eyes narrow as she sits up. "You made me do all those things? All those sex things?"
"Did I?" My voice is stony with indignation.
She grits her teeth. Before she turns away, I see the tears. "Did you make me fall in love with you?”
I reach out my other hand. Gently, I take her chin and turn her head back to face me. My features and my voice soften. “Did I?”
Cari meets my gaze. She doesn't answer. But we both know the truth.
Her gaze travels back to my ruined car. The front end is split. The windshield is shattered. Neither of us should have survived. But we have.
Where had that light come from? There is no other car in sight. Had I imagined it? If there was another driver, they left us for dead.
Could that have been Arneis' latest attempt? He clearly knew we were at the club. Could he have had us followed and driven us off the road?
"So you're a vampire?" Carignan hugs her arms around herself.
"Yes." I fight my need to replace her arms with my o
wn.
Her gaze travels over my face, looking at me anew. I hold still under her perusal. But I see nothing change in her eyes. Only a new awareness.
I reach out and cup her cheek. Her arms fall away and she folds her hands in her lap. Her eyes turn to the blood still dripping out of my wrist.
"What happens if I drink that?" she asks. "Will you be able to read my mind? Track me anywhere?"
"I don't need your blood to compel you or to see into your mind."
“So you can see into my mind?"
I nod.
“Well, screw privacy laws then?” She waves her palm in the air as if brushing the notion away.
"Pretty much."
"And the tracking?" she asks.
“I’m only guilty of the normal type of stalking behavior. I would simply follow you to the ends of the earth."
"This is a lot, Hadrian.” Her fingers tremble as she rubs at her forehead.
I take her hand in my own, smoothing the skin over her knuckles. "I told you I would tell you when you were ready."
"When would that have been?"
“My original plan was to wait until a decade or so.”
Her brows lift as her shoulders cave inward.
"I said forever. I meant it."
"But you can live forever."
I pull her into my lap, making sure to avoid her wound even though it’s now healed closed. “I’ve done forever. All I want in my life is your forever. When you die, I'm coming with you."
"That's seriously next level stalker."
"You say stalking, I say love."
For the last five minutes, Cari had held a mask of bravery on her face. It crumples now. Her features are naked, defenseless, exposed. “You love me?"
I rest my forehead against hers. “Isn't it obvious?"
Her head turns to my wrist. She takes a deep breath. Then she leans in. When she sticks out her tongue, my dick goes instantly hard.
She tests my blood with the tip of her tongue. Once. Twice. Then she wraps her lips around my wrist and pulls. She had my total devotion before. Now, with my blood on her tongue, I am her eternal slave.
Chapter 28
Cari
My boyfriend is a vampire.
Okay.
I think I am taking it pretty well.
Best thing about having a vampire boyfriend so far? A little car crash can’t kill him. So, that’s a plus.
And he’s a one man emergency room with his magical, healing blood. That’ll come in handy for a girl who likes to laugh in the face of danger. Though I’m pretty sure my death-defying days are over.
Between being tied up earlier and crashing later, I’m pretty sure I’ve met my quota of adventures for life. I’m feeling a bit queasy after this rollercoaster. I want to slow down a bit. Starting now.
“Hadrian, stop. Slow down. I think I’m going to be sick.”
We are tracing. For the lay folks that means running at top speeds through the night. The moon’s light is all that I can make out as trees and brush whizz past me. Apparently, it’s not dark when moving fast. Hadrian’s running nowhere near the speed of light, but it’s a lot faster than a race car.
Everything is a blur to my eyes. For the girl who likes speed, and heights, and danger, it’s not going well with my stomach.
Maybe it was the pint of blood I’d just drank. Or the fact that I’d just been in a car accident. Or the fact that I found out my boyfriend is a fucking vampire.
But I’m playing it cool. Real cool. The picture of cool.
I turn away from Hadrian as I empty the contents of my stomach in his vineyard. Like the best boyfriend ever, he holds my hair back away from my face while I puke.
“I’m sorry,” I say when I’m done.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
Understatement of the century.
Hadrian tugs his ruined shirt over his head and uses it to wipe my mouth. What’s not ruined are his washboard abs. Neither are his pecs which flex as he moves. The skin covering his chest is completely healed, though smeared with dried blood. But it certainly doesn’t look as though a tree branch was trying to take root.
I thought the tattoo on his chest might be ruined. It’s not. It’s as though it had never been scratched. Belatedly I wonder how he was able to get a tattoo if he heals so quickly? Maybe he got it done when he was young?
“Can I ask you something inappropriate?” I say. “How old are you?”
Hadrian offers me his hand. When I give him my hand, he tucks my fingers into the crook of his elbow like we’re a Victorian couple out for a promenade. We begin walking. I can see his house a quarter of a mile down the road.
“I’m about four hundred years old, give or take a decade.”
I stumble, but Hadrian catches me before I fall. “So you’re robbing the cradle here?”
“Well,” he shrugs, “you are very mature for your age.”
“When you said your family’s been at the wine business for centuries, you really meant it.”
Hadrian scoops me back into his arms and carries me, but he continues at a normal walking pace this time. “I was born on a vineyard. But I had other employment.”
“The worse-than-mafia job.”
“I worked for the church during the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Whoa.”
“Whoa, indeed.”
“So you, like, tortured people?”
“Not like-tortured. Actual torture.”
“And you liked it?” I hedge, trying to determine if my lover was conditioning me for a Red Room of Pain. Though I’m not so sure I am opposed to such a space.
“I was good at it,” he says. “It was a way to eat.”
I get the sense he didn’t take his doubloons out for tapas back in ancient Spain. “You fed from your victims?”
“I did.”
Hadrian looks straight ahead. There’s a haze inside his green gaze. I can make out shame.
“Well,” I say. “That’s kinda smart. I mean, they were all bad guys right?”
He doesn’t answer. I don’t push. No more roller coaster rides for me today. But I am curious about other things.
“How did you become a vampire? Were you born this way?”
“I was turned. By the woman I thought I loved.”
His voice is matter of fact, but I sense the hurt in his statement. I know I said no more rides, but what girl can resist knowing more about her guy’s ex? Especially when it looks like said guy might bad mouth the ex.
“Domitia?” I hate the way her name tastes on my tongue. “You thought you loved her? You’ve changed your mind?”
“I have. What I felt for her, what was between us, I know now that that wasn’t love.”
Hadrian cradles me closer. I tighten the hold I have on his neck as he goes on.
“I thought love was pain. You’ve shown me just how wrong I was.”
It’s like I’ve popped all the balloons at one of those amusement park games with a dagger. Or made all the shots with a basketball at those impossible angles at a carnival. Or guessed the correct number of marbles in a jar at a county fair.
I should quit while I’m ahead. But, seriously? What girl would when she’s getting the dirt on her predecessor?
“You said she was dead. How did she die?”
“We argued. And she walked into the sun.”
And now it was game over and I’d struck out. I knew enough vampire lore to know that the sun was a contraindication of their condition. “She committed suicide?”
“She knew it would hurt me.”
“That’s cold blooded.”
“She was. And she was right.” The fog has moved from his eyes. They are clear as he regards me. “I’ve been feeling shame and guilt for two centuries for her actions. But no longer.”
My hand slips from his neck to his chest. “I’ve been feeling shame and guilt for months because of my dad.”
“It’s not the same. Your father loved you. He would’ve given his lif
e for yours. Domitia was just spiteful. She was the cause of her own death, not me. You were not the cause of your father’s death. Or the accident back there.”
My hand falls away from his heart. It comes to rest on my hip where the wound from the crash had been just moments ago. It’s healed now.
“Are you going to tell me it was Fate or God?” I say.
“No,” Hadrian says. “I won’t tell you that.”
He walks a bit in silence. I rest quietly in his arms. There’s dried blood on his bare chest. My dress is in tatters. We look like we came from a war. And we have.
“So, what do we do now?” I ask.
“I’ve sent someone to take care of the car. The sun will be up soon. We need to get inside.”
“So you can get some rest?”
“No. So that I can fuck you like I promised I would.”
“Oh.” Should I say no? I’d nearly died back there. But that was my normal everyday life. ”Wait? Are you asking me? Or are you making demands?”
“No.” Hadrian looks down at me. “I’m begging for it. Please, Cari. Please will you spread your thighs for me. Please let me fill you to the hilt with my cock and give you everything I have until you are trembling and can take no more. And then I’ll give you just a bit more. Please.”
Well, then. “Sure. Okay.”
“Good girl,” he purrs.
The rumble in his throat vibrates through me, like the toy he’d used on me earlier that night. Am I even capable of more orgasms? Stupid question. I’m ready to come from just those two words.
“By the Fates,” said Gaius. “What happened?”
I hadn’t even noticed we’d come into the house. Gaius stands in a silk robe and bare feet, like he’s just ready for bed at five in the morning. I note that on his chest is the same tattoo as Hadrian’s.
Viri stands barefoot as well. A toga is wrapped around his torso. On his bare chest is the familiar tattoo. In his hand is a blood bag.
“Just a little accident,” says Hadrian. “We’re fine. We’re going to make love now.”
“Did she stake you?” asks Viri, his gaze on the dried blood around Hadrian’s chest.
“Yes. She did,” says Hadrian. “Right in the heart.”