Charleston Past Midnight

by Christine Edwards

  She sputters out a blood-filled cough. I try to soothe her by holding her close, running my hand gently down her cheek. Her heart is faltering … not much time.

  She makes a wet, strained sound. I lean down close to her lips. I must comprehend what she is trying to tell me.

  Barely audible, her voice is unrecognizable as she struggles to choke out, “T-turn ….”

  That’s all she can manage before the blood filling her mouth makes it impossible for her to continue. That was enough incentive for me. Not wanting any passerby to see us, I quickly drag her back into the heavy shadows in the corner of the cemetery. With my back propped against the white stucco wall of the church and her body reclined in my lap, I use my fangs to tear into my left wrist. Confident that the flow is steady, I do what was done to me so very long ago: I use my fingers to work her lips open and swiftly seal them with my wrist.

  For the longest moment, nothing happens. Confusion roils through me. I wonder if I did something incorrectly, or if I was simply too late.

  I hear Ambrose and Case calling out from a distance, “Where the fuck are you?”

  Knowing that I need their help, I turn in the direction of the sound. “Over here!”

  Within seconds, they’re crouched low. Ambrose is used to wreckage on a massive level. He’s always outwardly calm. Only the flare in his light eyes gives any indication that he’s worried.

  Case starts to prowl the graveyard before us, eyes narrowed, ready to attack anyone or anything that comes near us.

  Ambrose grits out, “How long have you given your blood to her?”

  My voice is shaking as I tell him, “Maybe a minute. Her mouth was full of blood when I covered her lips.”

  “Here, pull away, let’s tip her to the side to clear her mouth. It’s faint as fuck but I can still hear her heart. Your girl’s a fighter.”

  She is.

  As quickly and gently as possible, we roll her over. Ambrose rips the sleeve off his shirt, and as I hold her up in my arms, he cups her jaw with his wide palm and uses his thumb to press down on her lower teeth, effectively pushing her jaw open as wide as it will go. Scarlet blood streams out of both corners and he wastes no time inserting the wadded up white material to swiftly and efficiently clean out her mouth.

  “Okay, gotta be quick to get some down her. Ready?”

  I nod. He pulls the saturated cloth away and grinds out, “Now!”

  I lock my bleeding wrist down against her face and hope that she can manage just one swallow. A human can only turn when they are at the precipice of death and can only be given the dark gift directly from a vampire, at his or her discretion. She needs to get at least a mouthful of my essence inside her to counteract the colossal internal damage that is taking her life with the swiftness of water down a drain. I’m becoming desperate, uncertain if I can save her.

  He straddles her legs to assist. “Let’s tip her head back a bit.”

  My head is pounding with pressure. Can’t lose her …. Fuck!

  Suddenly her body jolts hard against us as if she was just shocked hard with a defibrillator. Ambrose lets out a sigh of relief. My eyes fly to his in question. He nods once. “She’s good.”

  I bang my head back against the hard stucco, amazed that we weren’t too late.

  “Ambrose, the keys are in my pocket. The SUV is just around the corner on Market Street.”

  “On it, back within five minutes. Case, keep things tight.”

  The gigantic male continues scanning the shadows, keeping a lookout as he grunts his response to Ambrose. Standing above us, Ambrose looks down. “Forgive us, Severin. We had a run-in with Valdon’s thugs out at Wild Dunes. Things almost got messy in front of a bunch of humans. Obviously that was part of the nasty fucker’s grand plan. Never again. We’ve got his number. Alina traced back to the house. She has a broken wrist; nothing that won’t heal overnight. Back in a minute, keep it streaming down her, she’ll latch on soon.”

  I watch him jog out of the enclosed graveyard before I focus my attention once again on Calla. Her body begins to writhe slowly. My far more powerful blood has begun to heal her injuries as she turns. I’ve no time to focus on whether what I did was wrong or not. If I had to relive it a thousand times over, the outcome would be the exact same. I suppose I knew that she would eventually be turned the moment I rescued her at Mixture.

  I nearly groan in relief as her slim fingers latch around my forearm, desperate to gain deeper access to the healing substance.

  I stroke her hair, mostly wet with her own blood, and whisper encouragement to her. “Good, Calla, drink from me. Everything is going to be all right now. I’m going to get us to back to safety.”

  Case’s deep voice calls out, “Humans coming, on foot. Keep quiet.”

  I watch him back deeper into the black shadows. The last thing we need are humans calling the cops for fucking around in an off-limits historic graveyard. I’m surprised that after the throw-down that occurred with Valdon nobody came to check it out; then again it’s the weekend and the drunks are out. Shouting and fighting is commonplace downtown. There’s a bar on just about every corner and that’s not by accident. So no, somebody pretty much has to be standing in the street screaming out “Fire!” for anyone to take notice, at least at night.

  She moans softly, but it’s too faint for anyone to hear.

  “He just rolled up. I’ll help you get her in back.”

  I don’t have to tell him to be gentle. Despite his size, Case is overly cautious with females, most likely aware of the damage he could cause with his brute strength. Keeping my wrist in place I cradle my other arm around the back of her head and let Case carry her sideways the twenty feet to the idling SUV. We slide into the back and he takes the passenger seat. Ambrose takes off into the night.

  “Calla, Calla … can you hear me?”

  She groans but is most likely still too out of it for my words to register.

  Not until we’re on the bridge does Ambrose ask, “She hanging in there?”

  “Thankfully. Your timing was impeccable. Thank you.”

  “None needed. That’s what families do.”

  “Right.” Even with that single choked word the level of gratitude and emotion is unmistakable.

  His eyes stare into the rearview mirror, watching mine closely. No words are needed. They never have been between us.

  She’s going to make it. Dear God, don’t let her hate me for it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Present Day, The French Huguenot Graveyard

  Everything You Thought You Knew

  The searing pain is unimaginable. My body is in such agony that all I can do is hope that my brain will shut down so I won’t have to deal with it much longer. I’m drowning in my own blood. I know it. Every time I struggle to drag in a breath, I gag and choke from the mounting fluid that is blocking my airway. I tried to tell him to turn me but I doubt he understood my desperate plea. Oh God, I don’t want to die like this, battered and broken in an old cemetery, only a few feet from the dirt I’ll surely be under before long! I’m not a doctor yet but I’m certain that the organs inside me are torn up. I can feel internal spasming down my right side, the one that took the hardest hit in the fall. The clenching is coming harder with every urgent attempt to get air into my lungs. I doubt I’d even make it to the ER.

  The vicious pain explodes as I’m tilted onto my side. If my mouth wasn’t filled with my own hot blood I would be screaming out in agony. Some sort of material is shoved into my mouth. Confusion grips my hazy thoughts and I feel strange, like I’m being pulled down into a strong undertow. Darkness begins to envelop me and I desperately try to stay lucid. The fear is all-consuming, the only thing keeping me from succumbing to the lure of death. Must fight!

  As if through a fog, I hear a different male voice shout, “Now!”

  Once again, familiar skin presses down against my open lips. I want to sob because whatever he did before didn’t work. Undoubtedly I’m too far gone to
be turned.

  Just then … I feel a sliver of something that is like liquid sunshine gliding down my throat. The flawlessness of the substance is astounding.

  Again the male voice, “Let’s tip her head back a bit.” Ambrose?

  More of the warm, addictive fluid slides down my throat. I can’t recall anything that tastes so complex and delicious. Finer than the most fabulous champagne and the richest of chocolate combined. No, whatever this is has the power to soothe as well as to cover the torturous pain that’s holding me hostage. Suddenly, of its own accord, my body jolts hard, as if I’m prodded with a lightning bolt. There is little pain now, only the warming bliss that is masking all the prior damage.

  Can’t lose this life source ….

  Deep in the recesses of my brain, I know that it’s Severin. He’s found a way and is either helping me or turning me—most likely both. I want to weep with gratitude for his act.

  I sense my shoulders and back writhing against the grass. The warmth flowing through my body is invigorating. My fingers curl around the arm that is providing me nourishment.

  He calls my name from above, asking if I can hear him. I want to nod, or at least look at him, but my body feels strangely different … it’s mine yet somehow not. I can only groan and hope that he understands that what he’s doing is working.

  My last coherent thought is being lifted and settled into an enclosed space. It must be a car because it begins moving fast. I clasp his arm and take deep pulls, allowing the blood to replace the earlier misery. I can feel my shattered shoulder knitting together and the throbbing in my organs is nearly non-existent now. Deep down I have the distinct sense that I’m going to make it. He did it. He saved me.

  On that final thought I succumb to the stillness of sleep.

  * * *

  His voice. I catch the tail end of a single word, recognizing that it’s him, yet he somehow sounds different.

  Once again, I hear the lush rumble just above me. “My brave Calla. Open your eyes for me.”

  I lean into the hand that is moving in a slow caress across my left cheek. The sensual touch seems amplified, far different from what I recall. I open my eyes and gasp.

  I’m incapable of speaking as he stares down at me in all his stunning beauty. I feel like I never saw him before, like I was looking at him through dirty sunglasses. He’s radiant.

  He grins at me and says quietly, “Welcome back, ma belle fleur.”

  Even his voice is far more sensual, each word sounding like it’s part of a far greater composition. I blink and scan his face and hair before managing to say, “Thank you.”

  His smile drops and his lips brush mine before he pulls back and says, “I couldn’t lose you, Calla. It would have destroyed me. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

  I try to sit up, still a bit disoriented. I manage to prop up on my right elbow. I’m in the center of his bed and he is sitting on the side, hands planted into the mattress on either side of me.

  “Better. Everything seems different, though.”

  He watches me carefully before asking, “Different, how?”

  I glance up at the Venetian glass light fixture that drops down from his beamed ceiling. Did I ever notice those brilliant silver and black twists before? Everything is pulsing with electricity, as if it has its own distinct vibe.

  I struggle to explain it to him. “It’s all … heightened.”

  He smiles and says gently, “Yes, that’s a good way to put it, Calla. Just wait until we go outside, my little beauty, then you’ll fully experience nature like you never could have before. Are you hurting anywhere?”

  “No, I’m all right.” My mind is starting to swim with the new reality of being something else, something not human. What the hell has happened to me? I want to lash out, to scream at him, but I was there, knew what went down tonight. It was not like he had any choice.

  My thoughts flick to my roommate and I freeze before asking in a shaky tone, “Wait, what about Kiana? Oh God, he could be after her right now!”

  His hands stroke the upper part of my arms. “Shh, relax. She was at work when Case helped us earlier tonight. She’s fine. He’s with her right now. Trust me, he knows where your friend is at any given point each night and it is never far from him. In fact, I don’t know what she’s shared with you, but they’ve gotten quite close these past few weeks. It’s something that we are all a little apprehensive about, seeing as how she is human.”

  I knew that she was wrapped up in him, that they were sleeping together, but I was too bogged down with my own issues to delve into it deeper.

  “Wait, has he … bitten her? Does she know?”

  He shakes his head. “He hasn’t shared that much with me. What I do know beyond any doubt is that he is very cautious and will guard her with his very life. There is no need to worry for her safety.”

  I’m processing everything he’s just said when he says, “I need to know something, Calla.”

  “Yes?”

  “Earlier, you used your last breath to tell me to turn you. I need to know what made you so certain that this is the life you wanted for yourself.”

  The answer falls from my lips without any hesitation, “Because I couldn’t go to my grave as mere poor white trash.”

  Astounded, he whispers, “What?”

  I soldier on, “I struggled my whole life for the opportunity to become something other than what I was born into, Severin. I was nearly there too, with acceptance into med school. My dream, my only dream, was to pull myself out of that sordid past that clung to me like a foul smell.” I shake my head slowly and continue on, “I wasn’t about to go out like that, no fucking way, and especially not at the hands of that monster Valdon.”

  “Calla, you’ve never been and you never will be poor white trash. Not to me. I never want to hear you say those words again.”

  I stare at him pointedly. “Hard to shake it off. You can’t understand it unless you’ve lived it, Severin. And don’t think for one second I’m telling you any of this for pity, because I’m so not.”

  He leans in closer and in a scary whisper speaks inches from my lips, “I don’t. I refuse to have the woman I love ever refer to herself in such a demeaning manner. If you feel that way then it is my mission to change that fact. Beginning now.”

  I watch him carefully, wondering if I possibly misheard him. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  His hot stare melds to mine before his head lowers. A long, slow swipe of his tongue licks up the side of my neck, stopping just at the base of my ear. The sexiest purr I’ve ever heard brushes against my skin in a whisper, “You heard me. I love you Calla. I have, ever since the night at the lake. And in case you’re wondering, yes, I’ve had others in the past. But that’s the past and I assure you the words I just spoke to you have never left my lips before tonight.”

  I begin to tremble at the intensity of his words, rocked to the core as he continues on in his sensual whisper, “Even if you hadn’t asked, I still would have turned you. I’m a selfish bastard, Calla. The thought of living centuries without you is unfathomable. I’d rather you hate me than visit a piece of stone that serves as a marker for what you used to be. I detest Valdon worse than you can imagine, and what he did tonight only adds to the long black tally that I have racked up against him. I will avenge what he did to you, of this you can be certain my love.”

  He pulls back, but I want nothing more than to crawl into the familiar safety of his wide chest. Twining my arms around his neck, I lean in and answer his passionate statement with a sensual kiss, hoping that he can feel it to his core. Our tongues lap greedily as the kiss turns fierce and more potent.

  “Oh!”

  Before I can blink, he lifts me up, legs wrapped around his bare waist. He’s moving in a near blur, and before I realize where we’re headed he has me inside the dark enclosure of his shower and he’s shoving the handle impatiently to ‘on.’

  “Severin … I need you.”

 
A low sound close to a growl vibrates throughout the shadowy room as he grates out, “I jacked off thinking about taking you in the shower. Be warned, Calla. Now that you can take it, this time I’m not holding back.”

  Don’t ever hold back!

  As the spray tunnels down from overhead I feel a telling gush of wetness between my legs. Still held against him I glance down and am stunned by the blood that’s saturated in my hair and down my once white dress. But at this point I’m beyond caring. The need for him to be buried inside me is throbbing hard. My bare feet touch the wet stone floor seconds before I’m spun around, and that dark voice commands me, “Brace your hands against the wall and don’t move.”

  My heart is thundering as my hands fly out to press against the warm, slick wall.

  “God, yes!”

  With one wrenching pull, my dress is torn down and off of my body. This is the real Severin, unleashed in all his pure ferocity. A dark shiver works its way straight down my spine as my feet are kicked open. My head is whirling, craving his perfect touch as I hear him shed his clothes. Silently he steps in between my parted legs. His hand is wrapped around his thick heat, and I feel his wrist brush against my ass as the smooth head teases first my clit and then back farther to my already eager core. I can’t help it; I bump my ass back a few inches, silently begging for him to thrust right into me.

  His silky wet hair caresses my shoulder as his chest presses up against my back. His thrilling voice envelops me, “Now, Calla, I’ll finally able to give it to you how I’ve always wanted to, my love. I’m warning you—it will be anything but gentle.”

  My screams rise up through the steam as he slams right into me and instantly begins a savage, driving rhythm, unlike anything I’ve ever known. All I can do is remain plastered against the wall, clinging desperately to the wet stone as each hard stroke urges me closer to the edge of sanity. He speeds up the punishing rhythm, and I can’t resist working my feet out wider so he can take me deeper.