Maybe serving the public interest as a journalist wasn’t worth the risk. She shook her head. Living in fear wasn’t going to get her anywhere, which meant she needed to get the results from Beck, keep that phone on her, get ahold of some dead man’s blood pronto and keep her head down and her eyes and ears open. And, if possible, live in Dmitri’s pocket.
In the depth of his daydreams Dmitri sensed Kristin’s fear, tasted the bite of it on his tongue, acidic like vinegar. Visions of Vane swooped in and disrupted his far more pleasant images of running his fingers over Kristin’s silky skin as he kissed her.
The dreams twisted, became a macabre mesh of the past and the present. Kristin’s vivid blue eyes morphed into the frightened green eyes of the blonde village girl Larissa had brought before him and Vane.
Entertainment and snack.
Over six hundred years ago, and the memory of that young girl’s terror was still fresh in his mind. Six hundred years and he’d never forgotten his own transfiguration from fledgling to fully formed vampire.
“You need your strength, my fledglings,” his maker had crooned, her eyes glowing red in the firelight of the castle’s keeping room. “Time to feast.”
The blonde had shrieked, her scream echoing against the stone walls as Vane had leaped at her, nearly breaking her in two as he fed greedily.
Dmitri had turned away, sickened at the reminder of what he had become. But he was weak. He did indeed need to eat. He’d resisted as long as he could, knowing that nothing could undo what he had become. He could try to starve himself, but he’d only become a shell, an immortal, useless shell that couldn’t die, but neither could it live.
“Do not resist the urge to feed, Dmitri,” Larissa beckoned, her sultry tones smooth and silken as they raked across his skin like barbs, digging in deeper the more he tried to pull away. “She is a virgin. Her blood is so sweet, so fresh it will make you drunk with the taste of it. And once you have killed her, we can rest.” “I will not kill her.”
Larissa’s eyes flashed. Angry. Haughty. Determined. “Very well.” She cast a withering glance at the whimpering village girl. “Then leave her broken. Either way, the little blood baggage will die before dawn. It is up to you whether it is slow and painful, or fast and blissful.”
The girl’s eyes were so wide with fear and pain that they speared Dmitri to the core. He knelt beside her. “Do not fear. I promise not to hurt you. You go to be with God, a place much sweeter than any here.”
Rendered speechless by the gaping hole in her throat, the girl merely gurgled her terror.
The smell of her bright red blood made his blood lust rise in an overwhelming tide, impossible to ignore. Hating himself for giving in to the hunger that clawed deep in his belly, he’d slipped his fangs into her wrist, allowing the venom to flow, allowing her to feel only bliss as he drained the remaining life energy from her body.
But within the confines of his dream, the green eyes of the village girl turned into the vivid blue seared upon his brain. He stared in horror as the last spark of life left Kristin’s blue eyes and she became limp in his arms.
“No!”
He woke in the darkness, his body shaking. Dmitri scrubbed his hands over his face. He blew out a cleansing breath and whipped the sheets off his nude body, unable to bear anything touching him. No matter how he wanted to defend his actions, the truth was, feeding from Kristin put her in mortal danger. Each and every time he’d be less able to control the impulse, the desire to feed. What complicated it even further was that the blood lust was tangled with his desire to protect her, his duty as trejan to protect his clan. He couldn’t possibly do it all.
By now the mortals of Seattle knew they existed. Kristin had told him the story would be in the morning edition. Unable to sleep after the terrible dream, he phased a copy of the Pacific News Tribune.
Damn. Of course. They were front-page news.
No sooner had he scanned the story than the pulling sensation that started at his navel and sucked everything inward began. Dmitri barely had time to phase himself into a pair of black exercise pants before he materialized before Roman’s desk.
“Seeing as how you are awake, I thought I would discuss what’s happened today, the day of our unveiling.”
Dmitri nodded. “The article was fair.”
“It is not the article that concerns me.”
Roman flipped on the enormous wall-mounted flat-screen television behind Dmitri. Images of protestors flashed across the screen. “The mortals are not taking it well.”
As laird, Roman had every right to call him day or night, but a little warning would have been appreciated. Inside, Dmitri boiled, not from the calling alone, but from the knowledge that Kristin was afraid and there was no way he could get to her until Roman was done with him. Dmitri fought to keep his exterior demeanor cool and smooth. “As predicted.”
“Yes, as predicted. But that doesn’t make the situation any easier. Especially when we have reivers threatening our borders. As trejan you know that the welfare of the clan must come first. The reporter is simply a means to an end for us.”
His words hit home and Dmitri bristled. “I know my duty, my laird.”
“It is not your knowledge or your loyalty I question, Trejan. It’s your heart. You have already started to form a bond with the mortal reporter.”
Dmitri kept his expression bland as he met and held Roman’s intense gaze. “I repeat. I know where my allegiance lies.”
Roman reached into his head. You know it’s true, brother.
It is merely proximity that has endeared her to me.
Roman sighed. Do not fool yourself, brother. A woman who can bring a trejan to his knees comes once in a millennium. And she is just that kind of woman.
Dmitri locked gazes with Roman. “Then perhaps she’s worth the risk.”
Roman’s eyes flashed red for an instant, betraying his ancient lineage, before they returned to their darker steady brown. “Tread carefully, Trejan. If you fail in your duty to protect the clan because of her, I will have the right to execute you both.”
Kristin didn’t dare leave her apartment that day. There was just too much weirdness happening out on the streets of Seattle. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought the reaction would be this severe. There’d hardly been a blip on the reader radar when she’d written the first article on blood fetishes and vampire groupies. But apparently, as long as people were just playing at being vampires, nobody cared. They were merely seen as one more strange pop subculture like goths, skaters or grunge.
But reveal the existence of another actual species and the world went bonkers.
After it had rung nonstop for hours, she’d finally shut off her cell phone and sat on the sofa, sipping a diet cola. A knock on her door caused her to jump, spilling the cola down her shirt. Kristin muttered an oath.
She got to the door and glanced through the peephole. Relief flooded her as she recognized her dad.
She unlatched the locks and threw her arms around him in a big hug. Nothing in the world felt as good as having her father hug her back.
“Had to come by to see how you’re holding up. You didn’t answer your phone.”
She closed the door, efficiently turning all the locks. “Yeah, well, it’s been a weird day, so I turned it off. Come on in and sit down.”
Her dad sat down on the couch, looking far smaller than Dmitri had when he’d sat in that exact spot less than twelve hours earlier. He smoothed the copy of the Tribune he held in his hand, then glanced at her. “That’s quite a story you wrote, Sunshine. Top-notch reporting.”
Heat stole into Kristin’s cheeks. Her dad seldom, if ever, gave compliments. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot coming from you. I always wanted to be a reporter just like you.”
But all the warmth she’d seen in his eyes fled, replaced by worry. “You’re not seeing one of these vampires, are you?”
“Why would you even ask me that, Dad?”
He slapped the fol
ded newspaper with the back of his hand, concern furrowing his brow. “I read between the lines, Sunshine.”
Kristin stiffened at her dad’s tone. “I’m not a little girl anymore. And I’m a professional. I’m doing what I need to to get the job done.”
“But vampires are dangerous. Surely you aren’t putting yourself in jeopardy merely for a story.”
“It’s nothing you wouldn’t have encouraged a young male reporter to go after.” It still galled her that underneath it all her dad didn’t think her competent enough to compete with the boys. Well, she admitted, perhaps it was that. Or perhaps it was more about her being all he had left of a family since her mother had died.
He rubbed his hands together. “True. But this is totally different.” He stood slowly from the couch. “I really don’t like the idea of you hanging out with vampires. They’re an abomination! Freaks! And I don’t want my little girl ending up sucked up and thrown away like an empty soda can.”
Kristin folded her arms. “You’re overreacting, Dad. You haven’t even met one.”
“The hell I am! Didn’t you read the rest of the paper? Four murders. Four. And several other missing people this week alone. And from what the authorities are seeing, they think it’s all vampires. Bastards are eating us like takeout.”
She’d never seen her dad like this, almost frantic, and it scared her. She reached out a hand, trying to reassure him. “I know you’re worried, Dad. But you’ve got to understand that the members of the Seattle clan are just as civilized as you and I. If you met the vampire assigned to help me with my articles, you’d see he’s just as protective of me as you are. Maybe even more so. They want my help to get their side of the story out. To forge a connection with humans where we can coexist.”
“You can’t coexist with the devil, Sunshine.”
Kristin rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Dad, they aren’t the devil.”
He grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re all I’ve got. I can’t lose you.” For several moments neither of them said a thing, he just held her close. His back heaved with a determined sigh. “I can’t let you do this. You’ve got to stop seeing these vampires before they pollute you.”
Her fingers skimmed over the spot where she’d let Dmitri drink from her. She pulled the collar of her shirt up a little more tightly. “I knew you’d never welcome them with open arms, but I had no idea you’d be this bigoted.”
“Baby, listen to me.” The pleading, broken tone in his voice almost made her buckle. She’d never heard her dad beg for anything before. “This a destructive path you’ve chosen. I can’t help you if you choose this. Walk away from it. The story isn’t important if it’s going to cause you to risk your life.”
Kristin thought about the death threats called in to the paper and about Vane. The risks were definitely growing, but then didn’t every reporter stuck in a war or foreign country take risks just as big on a daily basis?
This was the break she’d been working her whole career for. It was a chance to be part of history, and she was in deep enough that getting out now wouldn’t be easy or pleasant. “It’s not that easy, Dad.”
His face crumpled. “I can’t just stand by and watch you self-destruct. This is going to end badly. I can feel it in my bones.”
Her father’s words startled her, hitting like a dart from out of nowhere, making her feel numb. “You know it’s not fair to make me choose between my career and you.”
“This isn’t about your career anymore. It’s about your soul. If you associate with them, eventually you’ll become one of them. And I can’t watch you destroy yourself.” His eyes had become flat and distant, twisting her pain and making it worse.
Without even asking, Kristin knew he was thinking about her mom. She’d gotten deeply involved in a secretive group while Kristin was little, and one day, her mother never came home. Despite his best efforts, he’d never found out what had happened to her mom until he went out to cover a fire in the mountains. The entire commune and those in it were nothing but char and ash caused by self-immolation.
But he didn’t know what he was asking. And he sure as hell didn’t know Dmitri. Without a doubt Kristin knew she could trust him to protect her from whatever might happen. Even if he had to protect her from himself. “It’s not going to happen.”
Sadness dragged down her father’s features. “I’m sorry to hear that. You take care of yourself.”
“Dad, don’t do this.”
“I can’t watch it happen, Sunshine. I just can’t live through it again.”
She grabbed his hand. “Dad, don’t leave like this. I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep myself safe. And you’ll be proud of me when this is over. You’ll see.”
He glanced back at her over his slumped shoulder as he opened the front door, suddenly looking far older than she’d ever seen him, and his hand slid out from hers. “Goodbye, Sunshine.”
Kristin was too stunned to move as the door closed behind him. This couldn’t be happening. First the protestors, now her own father freaking out.
Hurt and bewildered, she shoved on shoes and grabbed her purse, phone and the loaner-car key. Her hands were shaking. She needed to talk to Dmitri. Hell, she needed to see Dmitri. He’d know what to do. She opened her door, looking both ways, pulled the hood of her jacket over her head against the growing chill of twilight, then walked as quickly as she could to where she’d parked Dmitri’s black BMW. The streetlights were just flicking on, casting pools of yellow in regular intervals along the cracked sidewalk.
Kristin pushed the button on the remote to start the car. Three seconds later she was thrown back against the building by a blast of heat and flying shrapnel as the car exploded.
Chapter 12
“What in the hell do you mean it ‘blew up’?” Dmitri demanded, wishing the clan’s security captain wasn’t at the other end of the phone. When he got bad news, he wanted to see the person’s face, read their body language.
“Detonation occurred approximately three minutes ago,” James said tightly.
“Where?”
“The 900 block of Eighteenth between Marion and Spring.” Kristin.
“Get back to me with the details once you find out what triggered it.” Without waiting for an affirmative, Dmitri hung up as he transported. Pressure built into a throbbing mass at the base of his skull. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
If he had a beating heart it would’ve stopped cold as he materialized outside Kristin’s apartment building. “Where are you, woman?” His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
The stench of burnt rubber and hot metal permeated the evening chill as he searched for her in the debris. Drifts of heavy black smoke rose from the charred remains of his hundred-thousand-dollar car turned into a blown-out barbecue in six seconds flat. Under the acrid assault of smoke, he caught a whiff of the familiar dark scent of Vane. Inside, his vampire ichor began to seethe and bubble like hot lava, running in explosive rivulets through his veins.
How could anyone survive a blast of this magnitude? Especially a frail human with creamy skin and guileless eyes.
He moved fast, rage and fear giving him wings as he circled the wreckage to the sound of the approaching emergency vehicles. He overturned a crumpled door with his bare hands, a twisted blackened fender with a vicious kick of his booted foot. Even as he swiftly scouted the area, his eyes were ever vigilant looking for any sign of her.
Not dead. Not dead. Not dead.
The words buzzed inside his head like a mantra. Hell, a prayer.
He smelled her blood first, that blend of vanilla and cinnamon totally at odds with the stink of the burning car. His fangs descended instantly with an audible flick. Relief flooded him when he saw her limp body twenty feet away from the blast. Dmitri was beside her in seconds. Not dead. Please. He hadn’t prayed in five hundred years, but he didn’t think God would care if he was rusty. God would know this was not for his sake, but for hers.
&n
bsp; She’d been thrown by the blast and had probably hit the wall of the building with enough force to break most of the bones in her body. He didn’t need to see the blood running down her temple; he smelled it, viscous and warm, seeping the life from her. Kristin’s unique fragrance saturated his senses, making him hyperaware of her.
Despite his rage at Vane, he gently placed two fingers against her throat.
A pulse. He closed his eyes briefly as unfamiliar emotions flooded through him. She’s alive. Thank you, God.
Alive, but hurt. How badly? He ran his hands over her body, searching for God only knew what. He wasn’t a physician, but he knew to be concerned over internal injuries and concussion. The sirens drew closer. He couldn’t wait. Pain, deep and bullet hot, pierced his chest. Damn you, Vane.
He gingerly scooped her up in his arms, trying not to jar her. She was far too light and too fragile. Blood dribbled from a gash on her head and multiple smaller lacerations on her hands and face. The scent of it swamped his senses, clouding his thoughts. He fought the craving to feed from her. Keeping her alive mattered more than anything else.
Focusing, he transported her back to the emergency room of the Cascade Clan medical unit. Zarah met them in the clinic emergency entrance. Her dark eyes met his with a flash of worry.
What happened?
Car bomb. The blast threw her against a brick wall.
She pushed up the sleeves of her lab coat, her fingers feeling for Kristin’s pulse. Dmitri was astounded anew at the doctor’s ability to ignore human blood in favor of healing. Her fangs didn’t even extend. “Pulse is weak, but there. We’ll need to stabilize her—Yes, Dmitri,” she said reading his mind, “and check for internal injuries.”
With silent efficiency the medical team brought out a stretcher and he gently laid Kristin down on it. Within his chest his stone heart shattered.
Zarah turned away briefly to speak to a nurse. “Check his hands. Don’t take no for an answer.” She gave him a stern look. “I’m going to do my job. I don’t need your help. By the time Mary’s attended to you, I’ll have news. Go.”
The Truth about Vampires Page 13