by Lane Hart
“No, I’m not,” she replies quickly, which is disappointing but not exactly a news flash.
“Moving on,” I say to change the subject. “Now it’s your turn to reveal your secret.”
“Oh, right!” Harper exclaims as if she had forgotten. “There has been at least one other set of witch and warlock twins since 1816.”
“Oh yeah? How do you know that?” I ask curiously, crossing my arms over my chest.
Harper wets her lips and then finally lifts her eyes to mine. “Because I have a brother. A twin brother.”
“No fucking way,” I blurt out as I jump down from the desk in shock.
“I do. So, does that mean that my father is a…”
“Your father is a warlock and your mother was a witch. No wonder your blood is so dark before you’ve even lost your innocence.”
“My innocence? What?”
“You’re a good girl, always have been, right? That’s why your blood is usually red, until you have certain…thoughts on your mind,” I start to explain before a more important thought hits me. “Wait. Where’s your brother, Harper?”
Her front teeth bite down into her lip all sexy and sassy at the same time, telling me she’s not going to give me a straight answer. “I can’t tell you that.”
Gripping her shoulder, I tell her, “He’s in danger out there in the world. So is your mother and father.”
“My mother's dead,” she whispers, her emerald gaze locked with mine.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, Harper,” I tell her. “What happened? When did she –”
“I killed her.”
At first, I think I must have misunderstood, but when her eyes begin to water, I know I didn’t. “You can't really mean that. You’re too good and innocent to hurt anyone.”
“She died the day my brother and I were born. My father told me that I was breech and she bled to death, that it was all my fault.”
“No, Harper, it wasn’t your fault at all,” I say when I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. Her cedar scent swirls around me, her body warming mine every inch where we’re connected other than a small spot at the base of my throat where her teardrops have fallen. “If anything, it was the doctor’s fault,” I assure her. No, there wouldn’t be any doctors. A warlock wouldn’t have risked having a hospital see his wife’s inky black witch blood. “Your father delivered you and your brother at home, didn’t he?”
I feel her shoulder shrug against my chest. “I don’t know.”
“He would’ve kept her there to try and protect her, but instead he risked her life and his children’s. That’s why he shouldn’t have hidden you! If she had been here where we have a doctor, then she still might be alive,” I tell her. “Your father must blame himself, and rightfully so, even though he tries to take her death out on you and your brother. You did not kill your mother, though, and you shouldn’t spend even one more second feeling guilty.”
“Thank you,” she rasps before pulling away, taking the warmth of our chemistry with her. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cold before. As she uses her fingertips to dry her face, she says, “No one has ever been there to offer a different perspective, one where I’m not the evil villain.”
“You could never be evil,” I assure her.
“Isn’t that what witches and warlocks are, though?” she asks.
“No, not at all. We’re not evil. We’ve been blessed with magical abilities. You missed the first lecture of the year about our history. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes,” she agrees before walking around her desk to take a seat again. I climb back up on the one in front of her to begin.
“The legend of witches and warlocks began with a love affair between Circe, the goddess of magic, and who she thought was a mere mortal but was actually Satan in disguise.” Harper’s eyes widen at this in concern, so I rush to add, “He wasn’t all bad and still isn’t. Lucifer doesn’t make people do bad things. He’s just a big supporter of free will, his own most importantly. He loved Circe and worried about her when her strength began to waiver, her potions no longer of any use. She made peace with her loss, and just wanted a family with Lucifer. When she asked him to give her children, he was thrilled to be a father for the first time and knew he couldn’t tell her who he really was, or she would leave him. So he didn’t, and she eventually gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, both of which who eventually came to possess her magic. That’s when she finally realized Lucifer had lied to her for years because her powers were so weak by that time that they wouldn’t have manifested in a half-human child. Lucifer’s bloodline with hers renewed the magic.”
“Was she angry at him for lying to her?” Harper asks.
“At first, but she eventually forgave him because they created something amazing together, a way for her power to live on for eternity on Earth, passing down from each generation. There wasn’t anything evil about what they made out of love, other than his deceit about his identity.”
“That’s a pretty big deceit.”
“Yes, but true love can forgive anything, especially since he didn’t do it to hurt her. He was just scared that she wouldn’t love him if she knew who he really was.”
“And now all witch and warlock pairings result in twins?” she asks.
“That’s right. Always.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m not convinced that my father is actually a warlock. He never showed us any signs of magic. And he was incredibly religious.”
“Religious, how?” I inquire.
“Religious as in the only time my brother and I were allowed to leave the house was to go to church with him on Sundays.”
“Church as in the steeple, Bibles, and all that?”
“That's right. We were baptized three times as kids,” she says with a sigh.
“He must have been trying to hide you, himself, and your brother and thought the easiest way to do that was to get deeper into the church,” I suggest.
“No, I'm pretty sure he also believed all the mumbo jumbo and thought that we were cursed and evil. All three of us.”
“It sounds like he’s still holding on to a ton of guilt about your mother. Maybe he regrets getting her pregnant and not taking care of her the way he should have by bringing her here. He had to have known about the coven.”
“Possibly,” Harper agrees. “I really do appreciate you talking to me about all of this. I’m glad I decided to trust you.”
“I’m glad I decided to trust you too,” I reply with a smile. And it finally feels like the two of us are making progress.
Chapter 13
Drake
“Drake, man, you look like shit,” Cash, my roommate and soulless ginger slash newly turned vamp, observes. I think those are the most words he’s said to me since he moved in two months ago.
“I think I’m dying,” I croak without opening my eyes from where I’m face down in my bed. The covers are pulled up nearly over my head and I’m still shivering, unable to get warm.
“I thought vampires couldn’t die of sicknesses.”
“I may be the first,” I mutter through my chattering teeth, withholding from him the real reason why I’m withering away. Never should’ve tasted that witch’s blood. I can’t believe the girl is going to get her wish of my slow death and so soon after I screwed her over. Is it magic or karma? I have no idea. Either way I’m fucked, and not in the good way I enjoy.
“Do you need…something to drink?” The new kid still can’t bring himself to say blood and isn’t too fond of having it as part of his weekly diet. I don’t blame him. I felt the same way and tried to go as long as possible without it when I was first turned. All I ended up doing was guzzling two bags instead of one when I finally couldn’t resist any longer.
“N-no human blood,” I say while swallowing down the bile at the thought.
“What other kind of blood is there?” he asks.
The best, most delicious kind in the world.
His question does spark a t
hought in my throbbing brain, one that may not make me feel much better, but could help.
“Get Jez,” I tell him.
“Fine,” he grumbles, not happy about having to talk to the woman who made both of us immortal. He isn’t happy with her making the decision without his consent. But Jezebel isn’t a bad person. She saved us, and the other vampires living here. Although, I have started to notice that she prefers to come to the rescue of young, attractive male humans who are dying. I get it though; she’s two hundred years old and other vampires are the only men she can fuck and bite without outing herself. Can’t blame her for wanting a little variety in the bedroom. She’s hot, and a damn good lay too. Sex with her is always easy with no strings attached.
“Drake?” her soft, raspy voice asks. “You okay?”
“Need a drink,” I slur, sounding like an alcoholic as I try to blink my eyelids open to see her but am too weak.
“I’ll get you a bag,” she says, but I shake my head and force the words out.
“No bag. You.”
“Me?” she repeats in surprise. “You don’t look like you’re in any shape for a romp.”
“No fuckin’. Just gimme your vein.”
“If you say so,” Jez replies before she comes over and sits on the edge of my twin bed. “Here.” She places her wrist to my dry mouth, but biting her seems like too much work.
“Can you start it for me?” I ask.
“Seriously, Drake, what the hell is wrong with you?” she asks right before I hear a crunch and then the coppery liquid hits my lips.
After Harper’s, Jezebel’s blood tastes like watered down shit, but she’s a powerful vampire with strength running through her. Hopefully I can keep hers down since bags of human blood comes right back up.
“You’re shivering,” she notices as I drink a few deep pulls. She throws back the sheets from my body; and even though I’m wearing a long-sleeve tee and jogging pants, it feels like it’s below freezing in here. “And you’re still soft, which is odd since you walk around most of the time with a semi.”
“My dick’s broken. Not enough blood,” I tell her when I stop drinking from her, too miserable to even be embarrassed.
“Should I get the doctor?” Jez asks. “I’ve never seen a vampire sick before.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, even though that’s debatable and depends entirely on convincing Harper to give me another taste. “In fact, I think I have enough strength for a shower.”
“If you say so,” she huffs, still not convinced I’m alright.
“Thanks, Jez. I owe you. Again.”
I’m not sure if I ever did thank her for turning me. The night I died, a stupid teenager was texting and driving, not paying attention to the road or the stoplight. Jez says the girl plowed right into my bike, sending me flying through the air and down an embankment. I’m lucky she was there and smelled my blood, because the EMS probably wouldn’t have found me in time.
Now, I’ll have to see if I can find and convince Harper to start giving me her blood on the regular or the next time I die, I won’t be coming back.
Chapter 14
Harper
I’ve been a resident of the academy for almost a month, and as crazy as it sounds, I feel like I fit in better here than I ever did at the university. All the warlocks look at me in awe and longing, something I’ve never experienced before, and even the other supernatural girls are nice to me. No more pranks or disappearing panties hanging from tree limbs all over campus.
My only concern at the moment is that Rowan hasn’t touched me in over three weeks, and I haven’t asked him to even though I wanted him to more than anything. He hasn’t kissed me either, other than a quick peck on the cheek. We barely talk for ten minutes and then he says he has to get back to patrolling the grounds.
Did I do something wrong the other night when we fooled around and he made the world shake underneath me? Does he want me to return the favor first before I get another turn? These are the questions I want to ask him but can’t find the words or courage when we’re together, probably because I’m not sure if I want to know the answer.
What if he changed his mind and doesn’t want me? What if he does and I have no clue how to touch him and make him feel good? Or is Rowan still so hung up on his ex-fiancée that he can’t be with me?
I wish there was someone I could ask, someone who knows men and could give me some insight into what Rowan is thinking.
As if by magic, Drake appears in the hallway. He’s been absent from his stalking position all week, and I can admit to myself that I sort of missed his awkward attempts at small talk and asking how I am.
Him on the other hand?
“Jeez, Drake, you look…terrible,” I tell him.
“Harper!” he exclaims, his face lighting up like I’m his best friend in the world and we haven’t seen each other in years, when in reality, I still hate him, and we just saw each other last week.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me into a nearby utility closet, flips the light on and then shuts the door behind me before I even realize what’s happening. Stupid vampires and their lightning-quick speed.
“What are you doing?” I snap at him while trying to pull my hand from his grip. I can’t though because he’s holding it in both of his…and rubbing my wrist against his face. His eyes are closed as he sniffs my skin and then presses it to his cool lips.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he murmurs.
“Have you lost your mind?” I whisper to him. “The masters will kill you if they see you touching me!”
Drake keeps kissing my wrist like doing so is euphoric, ignoring my warning. When I feel his fangs scrape along my veins, I know I should be angry at him. Instead, it’s like he flipped the switch on the furnace inside of me. “It’s not that I just want you, Harper. I sort of, well, I need you,” he says to me softly, his tongue and fangs alternating turns on my flesh.
If I wasn’t so confused and so turned on that I can’t think straight, I would probably roll my eyes at that ridiculous notion.
“Drake, you should stop,” I tell him, even though I make no move to pull my arm away.
“I’m serious,” he says. “I didn’t know it when I licked up those drops of your blood. Witches are addictive! I’ve been getting weaker. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat or tolerate human blood anymore. I throw it up! I need to drink from you, or-or I think I’m going to die.”
Clearing my throat, I mutter, “A little overdramatic, don’t you think?”
“I’m serious,” he says, his blue eyes finally raising to mine while his mouth latches onto my wrist and sucks. Hard.
I inhale a harsh, ragged breath because the sensation resonates in that place between my legs that Rowan touched the other night and hasn’t since. It’s infuriating how the shifter is either being too much of a gentleman to take things further or no longer interested in me but won’t tell me. And I shouldn’t want anyone but Rowan, the one person I trust in this place. So why do I feel the heatwave wash over me sometimes when I’m with Kingston or here and now with a deceitful vampire?
Because deep down, I know that Rowan doesn’t really care for me. He’s still in love with the fiancée he’ll never get to marry. She still has his heart, and I’m just a nice distraction…
“Please? Just a few drops?” Drake begs, dropping to his knees, his beautiful baby blue eyes pleading like his life depends on it. And maybe it does. I’ll have to ask Rowan or Kingston if what he’s telling me about being addicted to my blood is true.
“I-I dunno,” I stammer. “Why should I help you after what you did to me? I begged you to let me go and you didn’t. Besides, I never gave you permission to steal those drops of my blood.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Harper,” he says between kisses and rough suckling. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything! Just please give me another taste.”
“We shouldn’t…” I start to say.
“Please?” he begs, blue
eyes pleading with me. “If you let me taste you for just ten seconds, I’ll…I’ll taste you here,” he says, nudging me between my legs with his nose and making me gasp. “For as long as you want. Hours. Days. I’ll bury my tongue in you and keep it there always.”
While I stand frozen, my mind deliberating even though my body has already decided for it, Drake keeps a hold of my wrist like it’s the only life preserver in the middle of the ocean and uses his other hand to reach under my skirt and tug my panties down my legs. I’m mortified when he drags his tongue over the damp crotch before they pool around my shoes. “Oh fuck, I want more. Say yes, Harper.”
“F-fine,” I agree on a heavy sigh filled with a need so strong I can’t refuse him even though I know I should. “You can sink your teeth into my wrist for ten seconds.”
“Ten seconds. Great! That’s all I need,” he replies. “All I need,” he whispers again before his fangs sink into my wrist with only a second of a sharp, stabbing pain.
I watch in awe as Drake’s eyes close and he moans with his mouth full, sucking deeply to get as much of me as he can. Which reminds me that I’m supposed to be counting. How much time has passed? Probably four or five seconds at least. “Five, four, three, two, one,” I whisper the countdown. And as promised, he stops. When his fangs retract, his tongue licks around the two puncture wounds cleaning up the jet-black blood until they finally clot. Black, not red. I’m starting to have a suspicion about what makes it change color. Apparently, it darkens when I’m doing something naughty…
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Drake chants as he drops my hand and both of his palms slide up the calves of my legs, heading north until they reach my upper thighs. A moment later, I feel his thumbs stroke along my slit, the same way as Rowan touched me, making my breath hitch and my tense muscles all dissolve into liquid. Good thing there’s a wall right behind me to lean my back on it before I fall.