by Alex Owens
“Look at me, what do you think I want?” he said.
I couldn’t help myself, I faced Gregor and the minute I did, his need washed over me.
My fangs dropped, causing me to bite my lip more than I’d meant to. “F-theed me, plea-th.” I lisped. Well, that was embarrassing. Not exactly the impression I was going for.
Gregor laughed, “Don’t worry; we all did that in the beginning. You will become used to it.” He grinned widely, and I noticed that his teeth were already out and proud. And that wasn’t the only part of his body ready to go.
He kissed me hard, pressing his body against mine. I tried to mirror his restraint, but it required more control than I had. I nicked his lip with my teeth and felt his blood roll over my tongue. A fission of energy passed through me and I felt some of the weight lift from my limbs. I wrapped my arm around his neck and leaned closer.
Suddenly, I was flying backwards on the bed. Gregor was standing, grabbing his neck. “What the bloody hell?”
I was stunned. I had no idea what just happened, but clearly he thought I had done something. “What... What’s wrong?” I stammered.
He looked to me, still rubbing his neck, until his eyes landed on something. “What is that?” He pointed to my wrist.
“My bracelet,” I said.
“I know that. What is it made of?” he spat.
“I don’t know. Silver I think.”
“Jesus! Did Bette not teach you anything?”
That irritated me. I jumped to her defense, “Of course, but you must know by now that I’m not normal and not everything seems to apply to me,” I argued.
Of course, the bottom line was I’d done something dumb. Again.
“Take it off, now,” Gregor commanded, with an air of authority that quaked my insides.
I did as he asked, tossing the bracelet on the nightstand with a clang. “Look, I don’t understand.”
“Of course not, but I do. That,” he pointed to the offending metal, “is what is wrong with you, other than being hungry.”
Oops, Bette had warned me about that, I was pretty sure. “My bracelet paralyzed me?”
“It would seem so. Though how you managed to wear it at all, let alone for hours, confounds me.” Gregor rubbed his temple and stared at me, perplexed.
I felt my teeth slide back up into normal position, the moment clearly gone. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I mean, it’s not like the effects were as obvious to me as they are to you.”
He relaxed a little bit and came towards me again. “Elizabetta was right about you. I don’t know what you are yet, but I can tell that you are extraordinary.”
He sat on the bed beside me, close but not touching me. A sign of respect or a little bit of fear?
“We forget that you are not like us, so you will have to forgive us if we don’t always understand.”
That didn’t seem to require a response, so I stayed quiet. He inched closer to me, tilting my face upward.
“Now, how are you feeling?”
“Better now, thanks.” I smiled. “How did you know to come find me?”
“Bette felt that something was wrong, but she’s... detained. So I came to make sure you were all right.”
I frowned, not liking the explanation. “How would Bette know something was wrong?”
“She is your maker, so you are both bound by the same blood. She will always be able to sense you, and in time, you will be able to sense her in return,” he explained.
I wasn’t sure that was good news. I’m a pretty private person and sharing myself without being aware of it made me nervous. I let the logical part of my brain take over.
“Ok, great. So Bette made me and we share blood. What about who made her? If we all share the same blood, is there someone else out there that can sense me as well?”
Gregor looked at me with amusement. “The blood is diluted, so in general the answer should be no. Did Bette not speak of her maker to you?”
I noticed the “should” in his answer. So he wasn’t sure then. I shook my head and fidgeted with my halter top. It wouldn’t do to have a wardrobe malfunction while I was getting to know him. And yes, I was aware of how ridiculous that sounded, after the orgy moment we’d shared the night before. But I was trying to forget all of that.
“Well, I’m sure Bette has her reasons. But now, we must get you fed,” he said, brushing the hair back from the side of my face.
“I’m really not that hungry anymore,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter. After that episode it would be dangerous for you not to feed. It must be done.”
His tone scared me a little, but at the same time I sort-of liked it. Feminism be damned, every woman likes a bit of take-charge in a man, whether they admit it or not. He didn’t wait for me to approve. Instead, he swept me back against the pillows again with strong, sure hands. He nuzzled my neck and I felt the sting of his teeth nip the sensitive skin over my collar bone. In the interest of trying not to sleep with him again, I pushed him back against the bed.
I mean really, if I had to feed this often, I needed to figure out how to do it without the side-order of sex. I couldn’t be running around my hometown seducing everyone in sight. That just wouldn’t do.
Gregor looked amused. He reclined there, waiting for me to make my move. The trouble was I had no idea what my move was supposed to be—so much for my grand taking-charge ideas. I closed my eyes and focused on thoughts of blood. Big vats of delicious blood. Crimson and shimmering and warm, still steaming from the heat of life. My teeth dropped much more quickly the second time and without as much discomfort.
He grinned, “Nice, almost as smooth as myself.”
One minute his mouth was normal, the next his fangs glinted in the light. It was an imperceptible change, one that made mine look juvenile and awkward.
“If I was easily impressed, I’d say that was impressive,” I teased, procrastinating. I struggled to speak normal and avoid the lisp at all costs. I’m sure I looked like one of those speech coaches with my exaggerated mouth movements, but I didn’t care. I was speaking normally.
He beamed back at me, thinking I’d given him a compliment for a moment before his smile slackened. “I think if you are not impressed yet, you soon will be.” His normal cock-sure demeanor returned in full-force.
I rolled my eyes and ignored his taunt. “So, do I just bite you or what? Teach me, oh impressive one.”
“If you want to make a mess, sure. However, you are not a dog, so why eat like one?” Gregor turned his head to the side, lifting his neck up closer to my face. He ran his finger over the flexed muscle running from his collar bone to up under his ear.
“Feel this,” he said.
I touched my finger to the extended, taut skin. He covered my hand with his own, pinning my fingers there while he straightened his head. “The muscle relaxes, falling back and what you have left is the spot you are aiming for. Now, on a normal person you would feel a distinct pulse.”
“But we don’t have one?” I asked.
“Not one that you can feel,” he said. “Our hearts beat once every few minutes, maybe a little more frequently when stimulated.”
I felt a flicker under my fingertips, which was matched by a flicker of my own, albeit one much lower on my body. “Okay, what else?” I questioned.
“Don’t bite into it like a steak. You may tear the tissue, which will make it harder to conceal the bite. Instead, try a combination of pushing your teeth against the artery while you create suction on the skin. It is a much cleaner process.”
I was impressed, though I didn’t show it. He seemed to really know his stuff and more than that, he was very good at teaching. I made a mental note to tell him that. Eventually.
“If I ask you to do something, will you do it no questions asked? I promise it is important.” Gregor looked dead-serious and it was unnerving.
No way, I thought.
“Of course,” I said.
“Sing me the child�
��s song Twinkle, Twinkle.” He smiled, the lamp light glinting in his eyes.
My mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”
“But I am.” He stared at me and I stared right back.
I only sung in the shower or in the car, when I was alone. I used to think I had a decent voice, that is, until a stuck-up group of girls made my life miserable in junior high after hearing me audition for a school play. I’d not sung to anyone one since, not even my daughter. Teenage girls can be so brutal. It’s a wonder any woman makes it past the age of seventeen.
Gregor’s posture deflated, “Fine, just recite the words so I know that you know them. And do it quickly, talking around my fangs this long is a bother.”
I did as he asked, running through the nursery rhyme lyrics quickly and with great embarrassment.
“Close enough. Now, when you start to drink, sing the song in your head. It will help you two ways. One, you will not lose control if you focus on something else. Two, it gives you a time frame for feeding.”
“So when I’m done with the song, I stop?” I asked.
He nodded and stroked my neck. “Don’t worry; I will stop you if necessary.”
Great, I hadn’t thought of that. But it was better to learn with someone stronger and older. I wondered though, just how old was he?
“Now, enough procrastination.” He pulled me into his arms and I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He smelled manly, like night and thunderstorms.
Pressing my mouth to his neck, I remembered his tips and put them to use. My teeth poked at his neck while I sucked the surrounding skin into my mouth. I heard the tinniest popping sound and my mouth filled with the potent taste of his blood. It would have been easy to let myself go—to just drink until the fount ran dry. But I couldn’t do that. I could never do that. Instead, I began the song in my head.
Twinkle, twinkle little star...
Gregor’s blood assaulted my senses. It rolled over my tongue like a spring wind, alive and fresh.
How I wonder what you are...
All sounds but my own suckling dropped off, like I had noise-canceling headphones on. The quiet grew into a roar as my own gulping pounded in my ears.
Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...
My body felt free of gravity, like I was floating in a gentle current. Even with my eyes closed, I could see colors shining through my lids. Pale blue, vibrant red, ghostly white.
Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are...
I was supposed to stop once the song was over, but if I ever wanted to not follow the rules, it was then. In that moment, I thought of Clive and how he wanted me to take a life. To drain someone dry. And it was with that thought that I pulled my lips away from Gregor’s neck.
“Now lick the wounds to make them heal,” he whispered.
I ran my tongue over the twin holes in his neck and watched as they closed up, leaving faint pink dots as the only evidence.
“Vampire saliva can heal?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, now it is my turn.”
I didn’t have time to process that. Gregor rolled us, pinning me beneath him. He stroked my neck and I shivered. My skin tingled as he whispered in my ear, “Ora sarete mio.”
I damn near swooned at his words, even if I didn’t understand them. There’s nothing sexier than a hot guy speaking a foreign language. “Translation?”
“Mmm. Now you will be mine.” Gregor didn’t wait for me to catch what he’d said. His mouth pressed to my neck and I heard the faint noises as he drank my blood. He was very good; I had to give him that. I didn’t even feel the bite. What I did feel was pleasure; exquisite, pure bliss, to be more precise. I’m pretty sure his bite brought me to orgasm at least a handful of times.
If I had been thinking clearly, I would have wondered about his strange choice of words. They’d sounded ominous and foreboding. It would be a few hours later when I’d remember them with clarity, and realize just what he’d done to me, and to the both of us.
Chapter 19
I sat on the edge of the bed, one leg folded under me as I watched Gregor leave. He pulled the door closed without looking back. He’d floated me mindlessly through the clouds while he fed on me, and when it was done, he’d kissed me chastely, straightened his suit and said he had business to attend to.
I wasn’t sure what to make of all that. Just like the night before, Gregor seemed to run hot and cold without rhyme or reason. Perhaps it was a vampire thing, or maybe even just a guy thing. Either way, I didn’t want to think about it.
I felt better after feeding and removing the silver, but I also felt worse. The blood-high had been temporary and when it faded so did my positive outlook. As if on cue, my cell rang. It was home calling. Middle of the day, the only person home would be jobless Pete. I answered on the third ring.
“What?” I said, trying to think how I wanted to broach the subject of the missing money to him.
“I don’t want to fight Claire,” said Pete. “We need to discuss a few things before you come home.”
“Really, what could you possibly want to discuss? Do you want to know if there are any other accounts I have that you can empty out?” Oops, I hadn’t meant to say that, but I was just so damn angry for what he’d done.
Pete sighed on the other end of the phone. “It is my money too and I needed it to put down the deposit on my apartment.”
That made me realize he was partially right. Virginia was a community property state. Half of everything that was mine was also his. Not that I had any intention of sharing that knowledge with him. I had to talk to Bette. Maybe she could put the trust in Quinn’s name. But then as her father, wouldn’t Pete have access to the fund as well? Shit. A dummy corporation maybe? Or were they just fictional television plot devices?
No matter, I had been the only one slaving my days away. The state would split everything equally, regardless if the marriage itself had had any equity. No way would I let him get his hands on any more of my money—of our money, mine and Quinn’s.
“You haven’t earned a penny in months, how could you think that taking all my money was okay?” I could feel my anger quotient multiplying. Pete started to respond, but I cut him off. “That money was for silly little things, like the mortgage, the power bill, food for OUR daughter.”
Silence greeted me from the other end of the line. Seconds ticked by. Finally, Pete found his tongue.
“I thought you had more money somewhere else. You’re always putting money in the rainy-day fund you have,” he said.
His stupidity confounded me. Did he ever pay attention to anything I ever said? I wondered if he’d be able to function without me at all. Probably not, but that wasn’t my problem any longer.
“That was just a bunch of loose change in a jar, for Christ sake! And anyway, I emptied that out two months ago for Quinn’s new gym shoes.”
Pete was silent for several seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me that we were that broke?”
“Hell-oo! Why do you think I’ve been trying to get you to look for a job? God Pete, I’ve been waiting around for you to pull your head out of your ass for over a year!”
How could one person be so stupid? Oblivious, even.
“Look,” Pete said in a controlled voice. “I’ll figure it out, but I still meant what I said. We aren’t working together anymore.”
“Well, we finally agree on something,” I snapped. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Go get your deposit back, then get online and pay the bills that just can’t wait. There’s a file on my desk with the all the bills and log-in information. You’re not moving out.”
“But...”Pete said.
I stopped him. “You’re not moving out, but I will.”
“How can you afford to move, when I can’t?” he asked, confused.
Good question. I didn’t have an answer that I could share with him, so I hedged. “Ginny has a few vacation houses that she rents out. It’s the low season, so maybe s
he’ll let us stay in one of them until I figure something more permanent out.”
Ginny was like an aunt to me. She’d been my mother’s closest friend for years and we’d kept in touch after my mother had died. And she did have rental houses; I just had no intention of asking her about one. It was Bette that I needed to talk to.
“Fine. I’ll see if they’ll give the deposit back.” Pete sounded defeated.
“Alright. I’ve got to go to the convention center now. I’ll call and talk to Quinn later this evening okay?” I said.
“Sure. Bye.” Pete hung up.
Thinking of my mom reminded me of her little life-maxims. You know, like “if you can’t say something nice” or “the early bird gets the worm.” I tried to put myself in his shoes, just like my Mother would have suggested. How would it feel to be stuck in a bad marriage because you couldn’t afford to get out?
Then I realized that I didn’t have to imagine, I knew the feeling all too well. We had both been trapped by circumstances, only I hadn’t even realized it. I wasn’t stuck anymore though and I’d be dammed if Pete was going to profit from my sudden vampire disability fund.
I chucked my cell on the bed and went to the bathroom to give myself the once over. Pink streaks marred my complexion and I cringed—no wonder Gregor hadn’t tried to bust a move. I looked frightful. I snatched a clean washcloth from the shelf and went to work to make myself presentable.
I scrubbed my face squeaky clean and then slathered on moisturizer. I picked up the small bottle of liquid makeup, but set it back down again once I looked in the mirror. I looked several years younger and for the first time in my life I didn’t need makeup to even-out my complexion or cover those dark circles under my eyes. Who needed to invest thousands in creams and gels and microdermabrasion? Vampirism had a few hidden perks, it seemed.
What other changes had the gift of blood bestowed upon me, I wondered? My hair was shinier and perhaps a bit longer. I thought of baby vamp Claudia from that movie and remembered her hair always going right back to the same pre-transformation length when cut. But then I remember Bette saying that movies lied, so I reconsidered. If normal human hair was already dead, then perhaps all that extra-deadness made one’s hair grow faster?