She looks grim. “Because I wanted you to know how unusual my very existence is when I warn you that being with me at night might endanger your life.”
11
Eilidh
Dexter studies me. “Not from the shifters?”
“No.” I wish I’d waited to have this discussion because now my appetite’s fled, and that’s a damned shame.
Still, I take another tiny bite of heavenly chicken while he waits for me to continue.
“I’m going to gloss over my past,” I say. “Maybe if whatever this is between us develops, then I’ll tell you all the deets.” Except…he’s a vampire. So…it can’t develop. Right? “Mom and I were on the run for a lot of years after we left Cardiff. I didn’t know what from, until after I’d lost her. I still don’t know exactly what from. Or if it’s the same reason.”
I realize I’m reaching up with my left hand and touching the ring through my shirt. “There’s also no pattern for when it happens. Maybe everything will be fine tomorrow night. That’s also possible. In fact, odds tell me it’s likely. I just want you to know what might happen, for the sake of transparency. You and Lucius and Garrett have placed a lot of trust in me, and I don’t want you to think I held information back.”
“I appreciate that and will take it under advisement.”
I shift in my chair a little and sip my water. “Sometimes, at night, this…thing tries to show up. Only at night. Right now, it’s been the longest stretch of time since I’ve seen it. Several years. Whenever I see it, that’s when I bolt to a new location. It never comes in the daytime.”
He waits me out while I take another bite of chicken. “It has never fully materialized, so I don’t know what it’ll do if it ever does. I don’t stick around long enough to find out. It looks black, kind of like a dog, but huge. Way larger. Like, I’m talking grizzly bear-large. And it has red eyes. I don’t think it’s from this world. Because, as you proved today, it’d be stupid easy to track me down if it was.” I shiver. “It’s terrifying.”
Looking thoughtful, he studies me. “Gwyllgi.”
“What?”
He picks up his water glass and sips. “There’s a legend in Wales about a gigantic ghost dog, or wolf. Huge, black thing, with red eyes. They call it gwyllgi, but it’s got other names, too. Sometimes known to stalk and attack travelers at night. Other cultures have similar creatures in their mythology, but I find it incomprehensibly coincidental that you and your mother lived in Cardiff, and you’re seeing something straight from Welsh mythos.”
My heart races, pounds so hard I can barely speak. “Are…are you kidding me?”
“I am not.” His expression is serious, too. “I’d like to offer my help.”
“Is there a way to get rid of it? To predict when or where it’ll show up? To protect myself from it? To know what it wants?”
“That I don’t know. I’d have to research it. There’s no pattern to when it appears?”
“Only that it happens at night.” Now he’s intently watching me, and I realize that while we’re talking, I’ve fished the chain out from under my shirt and I’m playing with the ring. “Sorry. Nervous habit.”
“What is that?”
“It was my dad’s. It’s all I have of his.” I look at it. “I don’t know what the symbols on it mean. Mom used to wear it on this chain, but the night she died, the ring was on her finger. I think someone tried to mug her for it and she fought them, but they still managed to kill her. Which…” I realize that’s a story for another night. “It’s a long story. But Mom was a badass, and I guess he caught her by surprise. Normally, she could’ve held her own.”
He intently stares at it. “May I?”
I finally lift the chain over my head and pass it to him, being careful not to touch his hand as I set the ring in his palm and then lower the rest of the chain, releasing it.
He carefully examines it, studying the sides of it. “You don’t know what the markings mean?”
“No. They’re not any writing or runes I can discover. I showed it to Lucius, and he didn’t know either.”
A handsome eyebrow arches. “Then he’s seen this?”
“Yeah. And he knows about my…what’d you call it?”
“Gwyllgi.” He’s focused on the ring, turning it around, looking inside it for any inscriptions. “Labradorite is known as a stone of transformation, by some. Some think it’s a shield. Others believe it can protect against negativity.”
“So, you’re a gemologist, too?”
He smirks. “I have my hobbies.” His smile fades. “I’ve had a lot of them over the years. Sometimes, hobbies were the only things that kept me sane.” His focus is still on the ring, and he even breaks out his cell phone and takes several closeup pictures of it. “The writing isn’t any language I understand, but there is something very familiar about it.”
Hope explodes inside me. “Yeah?”
Then hope recedes equally fast when he holds the chain to set the ring back in my hand almost exactly as I put it in his. “I think so. It looks like something I’ve seen before, but it’s not any kind of runic language I’m familiar with. It’s definitely not Ogham or Futhark. I’d have to research it, though. Believe me, I know most of the old and modern languages from the UK, and more than a few from elsewhere in the world. It’s highly unlikely I wouldn’t know what it says, if it originated in that region. But there is…something.”
I don’t get the feeling he’s just humoring me, either. From the way he’s studying the pictures on his phone, I can tell this is something he wants to help me with.
“Oh.” I pull the chain over my head and tuck the ring under my shirt. “Thanks, anyway.” It shouldn’t bother me so much that he doesn’t know. No one else has known, either.
“I will look into it for you. It feels like it’s something I should know but have forgotten.”
I am touched he’s willing to try. “I appreciate it.” Nope, won’t get my hopes up.
I mean, I’ll try not to.
“Why not get it resized and wear it on your hand?”
A shiver washes through me, a memory of Mom answering that same question for me once, not long after Dad’s death. “Can’t ruin the magick,” I softly reply.
“I’m sorry?”
I blink, pulling myself back to the present. “Mom never would. That’s what she said, but I think she meant that metaphorically. She always wore it on the chain. Labradorite shouldn’t be immersed in water for long. I think she was worried about damaging or losing it. Having it on a chain was safer.”
“Ah.”
We continue eating. “I have to say, other than Lucius and Selene, you aren’t like any other vampire I’ve ever met.”
“Thank…you?” He smiles, and it makes my nipples tighten and my lady bits flutter. “I think?”
“Yeah, that is a compliment.” I study him and try not to focus on how gorgeous not-Ianto is. “What’s your endgame, here?”
“Regarding…?”
“Me.”
He dabs at his handsome lips with the linen napkin and takes another sip of water. “I have no expectations except, hopefully, friendship.” He’s looking me in the eyes as he says it.
“That’s it?” That’s sweet, but it’s almost a…let-down.
His right eyebrow slowly arches. “That’s not to say I don’t have…hopes.”
“Hopes?”
He shrugs, but his gaze burns into mine. “I don’t wish to overwhelm you.”
My breath catches at the intensity in his voice. “Try me,” I say. “I want to hear it. Give me your worst.”
He leans forward and his voice drops to a sexier, deeper rumble that soaks my panties. “Not my worst, but you’d be wearing my cuffs and collar and tied to my spanking bench. I’d spend hours teasing you with my hands and my mouth. I’d flog you, introduce you to my canes, spank that gorgeous ass of yours until you’re begging to come.”
Fuuuuck me. I fight the urge to squirm in my chair, but
he’s not done.
“Then I’d bury my cock inside you and fuck you until you screamed my name.” He smiles. “After that, we could really have some fun.”
Part of me wants to beg him to do that right now because my clit’s throbbing.
The other part of me is a buzzkill realist. It’s a good thing he can’t force me, because it wouldn’t take much for me to drop my panties for him, anyway. “Guess you don’t have trouble getting people to agree with that, since you’re a vamp.”
His smile fades. “I never use my thrall to force people to sleep with me. I’m not a predator. Not a sexual one, anyway.”
“Honestly?” He certainly sounds genuine.
“Honestly. I have no desire to force anyone like that. I certainly wouldn’t want to attempt to force you, even if you weren’t immune to my powers.”
“Sounds like there’s a story behind that decision.”
He slowly nods. “There is.” His quiet tone hints at centuries or more of deep pain.
“If you feel like talking about it, I promise to keep your secrets. And no, Lucius doesn’t have the place bugged. One of the reasons I have the trust of so many is that they know I will keep their secrets.”
Something deep inside me almost painfully twists when the dark cloud fills his expression. He continues eating. “Lucius and my sire shared the same sire.” He takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully, his gaze unfocused for a moment. “I don’t know how much of his history Lucius has shared with you, so I will avoid telling as much of that as possible.”
I nod, and he continues. “My sire was older than Lucius. Apparently, he wanted to create a nest of his own, a powerful army. But turning humans and siring vampires is not a simple process, contrary to Hollywood stories. Especially back then, when finding a safe daytime hiding place was far more difficult. I wasn’t the first he sired, and I wasn’t the last, unfortunately for him. Had he stopped with me, he might still be…alive.”
When his scent changes slightly, I realize the almost perpetual arousal I smelled on him since his arrival has fled. This is a painful subject for him to discuss.
I regret asking him, but also, kinda not.
Because it’s exceedingly rare for a vampire to let down their guard like this around anyone.
Especially a human.
Doubly especially a human who can’t be kept under their firm control.
“I honestly can’t tell you how old I was. Two thousand years ago, we weren’t keeping tabs on things like that, where I was from. I was raised in the region that is close to what’s now known as Dumfries, Scotland. Wasn’t called that back then, obviously. I was a little old for my time, so the best I can remember, I was probably thirty-two, thirty-three, maybe. Certainly, no older than forty. We were farmers and shepherds and fished.
“Now, keep in mind the times. I’d already been a widow once. A girl my father picked for me to wed, the daughter of a cousin of his. I didn’t really love her. I met her maybe once before we were married. But our families insisted on the union. She wasn’t much happier with me, but we didn’t hate each other, and we even came to tolerate and like each other. We made a good team, even if we weren’t exactly setting the world on fire with romance.
“Unfortunately, she died in childbirth with our fifth child. A girl, after four boys.” When his eyes unfocus, I realize he’s not staring at me but at sad memories in the past. “I had hoped for a little girl. Only two of our sons made it past infancy, Eochaidh and Sealbhach.”
I feel horrible for him. “Yikes. I’m sorry.”
“It happened far too often then. Fortunately, I wasn’t pressed into service as a groom after that. I had help raising my children from others in our community. But, back to my turning. I had traveled with a cousin to a neighboring village to trade, and we were spending a few nights there. I’d left the children behind. We’d had a larger meal than we were used to, and excellent ale, and it was nice weather out. It was dark, and I wandered a little from where we were staying with the intention to find a soft place to lie down and pleasure myself. That’s when a man appeared out of the darkness.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Exactly.” He takes another bite of chicken. “There was something bewitching about him. He was gorgeous, strange, and while he knew a little of my language, he also spoke languages I had never heard before.”
“Uh-oh, again.”
“Yes. He fed from me that night and exchanged blood with me, although I didn’t know this until later.”
“Later?”
“Yes. He told me later, after I survived the turning. He returned the following two nights. On the third night, he killed me after exchanging blood with me.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yes. Fortunately, he spirited me away from there before he did, or I might have been buried or cremated. He had a hiding place in an old underground burial cairn. He left behind my tunic, ripped and covered in blood, to make it look like an attack by a wild animal.”
Dread fills his tone. “Feeding from me wasn’t the only thing he did to me those three nights, or in the weeks and months after he successfully turned and sired me.” His light blue gaze looks more grey now, darker, as he meets my gaze. “He used me. Sexually.”
My stomach rolls. “I’m so sorry.”
“It seems he had a pattern. He would leave the nest safely sequestered, go out in search of a new prospect, and then turn them. After they had survived the initial turning and could be safely moved, he’d rejoin the nest with the newest member.
“For every one he turned, he probably killed at least thirty more. Once his sired were strong enough to resist him, he would then attempt to sire another. So that usually took a while to happen—a rebellion—because being sired is a powerful experience. There’s a codependency, physically, emotionally, and psychically. It was a time of fear and survival instincts.
“It might have been a supernatural existence, but I still had a very strong survival instinct. He deliberately withheld many facts for as long as possible, to keep us dependent as long as possible. For example, he never revealed to us how to turn someone. Back then, there was much we didn’t know about what we were, unless you met an older vampire who told you. This was also before Christianity existed in our region. Even the Romans were newcomers. So much, obviously, was unknown.
“For example, now we know it’s a virus, even if we don’t understand it and cannot yet treat it. Back then, it was evil spirits and dark magick and…” He sighs. “So even though we all hated our sire, it was unthinkable to us to consider destroying him. We didn’t know what information he might take with him if we did, information we needed for our very survival. We didn’t know for sure if destroying him might not kill us, too. Plus, there was a certain safety in numbers. Until, one day, he picked someone who was far stronger than he realized. Once they were through the initial turning process, they destroyed him and then awaited the sunrise.”
He sadly smiles and picks up the goblet of blood. “And that,” he quietly says, “is why, to this day, I do not violate consent.” He sips, staring me in the eyes. “Because I know what it feels like to have agency ripped away and to feel utterly violated and helpless.”
12
Dexter
Why did I reveal my most intimate pain to her, pain that’s chased and haunted me throughout the millennia?
Pain I’ve only shared with one other in my life?
Maybe because, as I stare into her violet eyes, eyes surely not wholly of this world, I realize I am not merely obsessed with her—I feel about her something I haven’t felt since losing Robert. That is a sensation I desperately don’t want to lose.
And I am so very, very alone.
I remember Robert, loving him, how in many ways his love allowed me to sleep in peace for the first time since my hellish rebirth. This thing I feel inside me now, for Eilidh, this warmth brightly blooming within my soul, is something I haven’t felt since consigning my love to his tomb from which he would never
arise.
Not even Lucius knows all of that about me, even though he knows what an evil bastard my sire was and no doubt suspects what I might have endured at his hands.
Something about Eilidh makes me want to open up to her. It’s said that shifters know who their true mates are.
Perhaps this could be the case for me, as well. Could I be so lucky a second time in my un-life?
Maybe if I can keep from scaring her off, I’ll be able to find out.
“But you’ve killed people?” she asks.
“I have.”
“Recently?”
Of course, she wishes to know this. Despite my reluctance to speak about it, she deserves answers. “Not to sound pedantic, but define recently. To me, it feels like World War II was only a few years ago.”
“I mean, you don’t kill for sport? For fun?”
“No. I never have done that. I’ve killed in battle and in self-defense. I’ve released people from suffering, and I’ve been an executioner for those deserving death. Not once have I ever killed for sport. Although, I would be lying if I said I never took pleasure in it.”
“Like when?”
I really didn’t mean for our first deeply intimate conversation to take such a dark turn, but I suppose it is inevitable if I wish to earn her trust. “Murderers. Rapists. Child abusers.”
She doesn’t look horrified by that admission, so I suppose it’s a good thing. “How’d you know they were guilty?”
“Well, you are literally the first human I haven’t been able to charm, so…” I shrug. “I would simply ask them to tell me the truth. If they were innocent, I did my best to help bring the truth to light and the guilty to justice. Countless times, I’ve hunted down the truly guilty and forced them to publicly admit their sins to exonerate the innocent and then face their own punishment.”
I chuckle. “Once, I even rescued a woman who was falsely accused of murder through witchcraft. I put her younger sister in the cell in her place. She’d poisoned her brother-in-law because she was jealous of her older sister’s true love. I deposited the innocent with the local priest, told him I was an angel, and the facts of the story—which I’d already gotten from the true murderess, obviously, and then sat back to watch.”
Her Vampire Obsession Page 11