Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #1)

by Lisa Olsen

  “I don’t know, it seems kind of risky. What about security cameras?”

  “They probably wouldn’t even show up on cameras, no reflection.” I already knew that was a bust, I had a reflection like anyone else. “There’s always the butcher route, like on Angel. You know, they’d have a standing order for pig’s blood. Dude why is it always pig’s blood? I wonder if it’s somehow superior to cow’s blood, or goat’s blood?”

  “Ugh, no thanks,” slipped out with a grimace. I wasn’t sure why, but instead of finding the conversation helpful, I started to feel a little sick to my stomach. The idea of drinking pig’s blood from a butcher was enough to make me want to hurl.

  “Actually, Joey and I were talking about this the other day. I’ll bet the vamps would be on a synthetic these days, like on TV.”

  “So it’d be like drinking diet coke instead of regular coke.” That didn’t sound too horrible. Too bad I had no idea how to find out if such a thing existed without looking like a total nerd to the vampire community.

  “Why all the interest in vampires, Anja? Should I be worried you’ve joined the legions of the undead?” Kyle waggled his eyebrows playfully.

  “I’d say so, you’ve already invited me into your home once,” I teased back. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if that would work either. Would I have to be invited again, now that I was a vampire, or would an old standing invitation count? “Um, it’s for a paper I’m working on. Updating the traditional vampire legend, that sort of thing. I wonder if vamps could advertise for willing blood donors on Craig’s List?”

  “Why not, they list for everything else,” he chuckled. “Seriously though, you should swing by on Friday night sometime, the guys would be glad to see you again.”

  “I know, it’s just my schedule, I usually have rehearsals on Friday nights, you know how it is.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he sighed, and I felt bad for not having talked to him in a while. Some friend I was for only calling him when I needed something from him. “Far be it from me to get in the way of your big career though. Did you get into the Olympics of singing yet?” We chatted lightly about how school was going, and this and that, before I realized he was only half listening to me while he played whatever game he was in the middle of when I’d called. Suddenly I didn’t feel so guilty for ignoring him so much lately; our interests just didn’t synch up as well anymore. Besides, it wasn’t like him or any of the old gang had called me up either, it was a two way street.

  “Well, I should let you go. It was nice to catch up with you, Kyle. We should all get together sometime, play some GURPS or something old school.”

  “I would definitely be down with that. Let me talk to Joey, I’ll send out an e-vite.”

  “Okay, later.” I’d managed to fill another hour of the long, lonely night, but I was no closer to solving my problem of how to feed. I closed my eyes, a throbbing headache started to pound behind my temples and down along the sides of my jaw. Thump, thump, thump… it was maddening. That solved the question on whether or not vampires got migraines. It didn’t seem fair, shouldn’t I be immune to that sort of thing now? So far it was pretty miserable, I felt more like I was coming down with the flu than an all powerful being.

  Thump, thump, thump…

  With a start I realized I was in the hallway again, standing outside Bridget’s bedroom. Head throbbing, I staggered forward, not sure what I was doing. She was in no shape to help me. Bridget lay sprawled across the mattress, exactly as I’d left her, the soft snore coming from her all but obscured by the deafening pound of my head. The sound amplified as soon as I crossed the threshold into her room, the thump of my headache in synch with the throb of her pulse, beckoning to me.

  There was no Anja, only a burning need, a thirst that consumed me, blocking out all other worries or cares. There was no Bridget, only sweet release lying there, tempting me beyond all reason. Of their own volition, my fangs descended, elongating and sharpening in anticipation of a meal. They pierced my tongue and the bright coppery tang of my own blood burst across my senses. It was enough to make me stop in my tracks as the heady nectar rocked me to my very core. Just as quickly the tiny wounds healed, and I moaned over the loss, eyes fixating on the siren’s call of the blood thrumming through her veins.

  I had to drink to survive; it wasn’t personal, it was my nature. Bridget was my friend. She’d want me to be happy, she wouldn’t want me to starve… While my mind spun comforting platitudes, I crept forward, half disgusted with and half in awe of the inexorable pull. Almost as if she could sense my approach, she rolled onto her back exposing her neck, dark hair fanned against the bed in a silken cloud.

  The throb of her pulse beckoned to me from the smooth column of her throat, teasing me, luring me closer. Swallowing against the wave of thirst, I leaned closer and she rolled towards me, welcoming me… Or not… With a wet heave, Bridget vomited noisily over the side of the bed, mostly hitting the garbage can, but splashy enough to send me hopping backwards. The sour smell of alcohol and ickiness permeated the room, driving me back out into the hallway in revulsion. All at once the spell that had been woven over me was gone, and I wasn’t sure who I was disgusted with more, her or me.

  Without waiting to see if she was alright, I got out of there, desperate to put some space between us before the thirst returned and I did something I’d never forgive myself for. The night air cleared my head even more, and the exercise gave my confused body something to do. Before too long, I realized where I was headed. My attempt to gain intel from the ranks of geekdom hadn’t done me any good. I had to go straight to the source.

  * * *

  I made it to Bishop’s place without attacking any random people on the street. That was a major achievement in my books. I surprised myself with how swiftly I ascended the stairs. In fact, my balance was so thrown out of whack that I slammed into the front door with an “oof” as the breath knocked out of me. So much for being stealthy… dawn must have been closer than I’d thought.

  “Bishop?” my knuckles rang against the metal door. “Bishop are you home? It’s me, Anja.” As if I had to clarify. Who else would be knocking at his door at that hour like an unwanted landlord? “Bishop?” I pressed my ear to the door, but I couldn’t hear anything inside. For all I knew he was asleep, or ignoring me. I might have done the same if I was in his position. No actually, strike that. I couldn’t have sat there while someone in need of help pounded at my front door, no matter how annoying they were.

  But despite his continued attempts to keep me at arms length, I suspected he wasn’t at home rather than avoiding me. Awesome. Now what? I didn’t trust myself to make it home again without trying to eat someone, but I couldn’t sit there indefinitely. The thought of trying to break into his apartment was fleeting. Mostly because I was pretty sure Bishop would be less inclined to help me if he found I’d let myself into his place. Also, I had no idea how to do it.

  Slumping against the door, I resolved to wait for him, hoping he’d let me inside before full dawn approached and I passed out. Only I lost that race, because the last thing I remember was thinking that I wished I’d remembered to take my purse with me when leaving the house. I could have called him and let him know I was there. Then again, that might have kept him from coming home altogether.

  * * *

  The sun was already high in the sky by the time Bishop made his way up the stairs to his apartment. All he wanted was a hot shower and a cool bed. Only what waited at the top of the stairs looked like the exact opposite of that, either a hot bed or a cold shower. What the hell was Anja doing there? Hadn’t he been most explicit that he was done with the role of mentor?

  There were dark smudges under her eyes, making her look especially fragile, but even so she was still heart-stoppingly beautiful, slumped against his door in her ridiculous outfit. Not that he couldn’t appreciate a woman’s body on display, but his fingers itched to tug her skirt lower and cover up the exposed swell of her breast. Anja didn’t
need such trappings to attract a man. Idly, he wondered what she would look like in a proper dress. Subtle touches of lace framing the bodice that exposed a hint of delights to be had beneath the rigid corset that cinched her trim waist impossibly smaller. Hair swept high with tendrils of gold escaping to frame her delicate features and nothing but her natural coloring to complement her inquisitive, blue eyes and the pout of her lips...

  Cold shower it was.

  Nudging her with his foot, she didn’t make a sound. She was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. She was damn lucky it was him that came along, or she’d have woken up in the morgue again, or worse. He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her close as he brought her into the apartment. Damn, he’d just gotten the scent of her out of his bed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was in hell.

  That was the only explanation for the temperature. Though a rational part of my brain could tell the air was cool and dark, I felt like I was burning up. Throwing back the covers helped, and I barely had time to register the fact that I was in Bishop’s bed when I noticed the music. Gorgeous piano music, so smooth and flowing it distracted me from my torment and carried me along. It was a live, tangible thing and it surrounded me with exquisite grace. Drowning my petty issues until I wanted to be a part of it, but didn’t dare raise my voice to join it for fear of breaking the spell.

  The next thing I knew I was crying. I don’t know where it came from, but silent tears rolled down my cheeks from the sheer beauty of it. I wasn’t sad, just emotional as the music touched me down to my soul. That brought a joyful sob as I realized I must still have a soul. That kind of thing wouldn’t happen to me if I was just an evil shadow of the person I used to be before I’d been turned, would it?

  All at once the music stopped and a moan of regret escaped me in the stillness that followed.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Bishop appeared in the doorway, his face anxious.

  “Nothing.” Why would he assume anything was wrong? I swiped at my wet cheeks, thinking that might have given him the wrong impression. “Was that you playing?” I’d assumed it was a recording, but then I remembered the grand piano in the living room.

  “You’re not hurt?”

  All at once the feverish heat returned and I choked back my reply that I was fine, to shake my head until the wave of discomfort passed.

  “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come here again.”

  Same song and dance. “I needed your help. I didn’t ask you to put me in your bed,” I reminded him, expecting to find my clothing plastered to my skin with sweat, but it was perfectly dry. A bonus from my new constitution I supposed, but not one I could appreciate in that moment.

  “You were unavailable for comment when I found you. You know, that was pretty stupid. The shape you were in, anyone could have done anything to you.”

  At the time I didn’t care. “I’m sorry.” The idea that he even cared would have been comforting if I didn’t feel like I had the swine flu. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” His hands were blissfully cool on my forehead, and I leaned into his touch.

  “You’re burning up,” he frowned, pushing against my lips to look into my mouth, but I turned my head away at the invasive touch. “You need to feed.”

  “I need a cold drink, I feel like I’ve got a fever. I thought vampires didn’t get sick,” I grumbled, wishing he’d put his hand against my cheek again. How come he was cool as a cucumber and I was on fire?

  “Haven’t you hunted since you left here?” His brows drew together into a single dark line, and I recoiled from the anger I saw there. Why was he so mad at me?

  “No, I have no idea how to go about it. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed but I’m a little out of my depth here. Is that what’s making me burn like this?”

  “Your body is starting to consume itself. It’ll drive you further and further out of control until instinct takes over, unless you give it what it wants.”

  Blood. He meant blood. At that point I would have settled for something from the butcher’s counter. “Can you help me? Do you have blood stored here for emergencies? Or maybe you could show me what to do? How to eat someone without killing them, and how to keep them from calling the cops?”

  “There isn’t any time. You shouldn’t have waited so long.” Bishop took off his jacket and approached the side of the bed, pushing up his sleeve.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Come here.” His voice was gentle. “I’m going to give you a little bit, just this once to tide you over.” Lifting his wrist, he held it a few inches away from my mouth and I stared at the smooth expanse of pale skin.

  “You want me to bite you?”

  “That is the general idea, yes.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile.

  “I thought… don’t vampires just feed from humans?

  “In general, yes. Largely because most vampires aren’t the sharing type.”

  “And you are?” I replied, my voice tinged with doubt. That didn’t jibe well with the picture he’d painted of himself so far.

  “I’m not saying I’ll let you drain me dry, just a taste to get you through the worst of the thirst, so you can hunt without taking someone’s head off.”

  “Oh, okay,” I nodded, that sounded reasonable enough. I scooted closer, dangling my legs over the side of the bed. My mouth opened and closed, but I didn’t get more than an inch closer to his wrist. “I don’t think I can do it. Biting into a person, it sounds so… barbaric.” It was different than standing over Bridget’s bed. For one thing there wasn’t a pulse calling out to me, and he was dead after all, like I was. Would he taste as good as a regular human?

  “It is. But it’s part of who you are now. You have to learn to embrace it if you want to survive.”

  My mouth opened again, and I leaned closer, lips brushing lightly against his skin before I chickened out. “You don’t smell like a person. Not that you smell bad… I mean I like the way you smell, you just don’t smell like… food.”

  “Anja…”

  “Right, I can do this…” Finally, deciding I was wasting enough time being such a baby about it, my mouth fastened over his wrist, fangs piercing the skin in one swift movement. I never knew which one of us made the first noise, the sound of my own groan of pleasure over the taste of his powerful blood mingled with his as my mouth pulled at his flesh.

  If drinking human blood was like eating the juiciest, most savory burger from your absolute favorite hang out, this was like eating a gourmet meal at a four star restaurant. Everything about his blood was richer, stronger; I could feel it down to my toes the moment it hit my taste buds. The small amount of human blood I’d taken the other night had done nothing to prepare me for such a potent drink, and I wondered why vampires would ever want to drink from humans at all. Especially if it felt as good to him as it sounded.

  His fingers sank into my hair, binding me to him as I drank, and his body shifted, seeking mine out. My body responded instinctively, craving more contact with his in the intimate act. The next thing I knew, he was stroking my back, fingers slipping under my shirt in search of bare skin. And then I was touching him too, hands moving over the broad planes of his chest, down his abdomen to the hardness below.

  Another groan tore from his throat at my touch and I pressed myself against him shamelessly as I drank and drank. It was wrong, I knew it even as I did it, but I found myself powerless to stop, wanting to take it even further. In that moment, I wanted him to reciprocate, even though that would defeat the purpose of what we were doing. I wanted to feel what he was feeling because it sounded incredible.

  “That’s enough.” His voice was husky with need, and my body responded to the tone rather than the words. Holding fast to him, I wriggled even closer. He couldn’t possibly want me to stop… “I said that’s enough.” Bishop tore his wrist from my questing mouth, and I buried my face against his abdomen, breathing raggedly to keep from crying out at the
loss. Instead of pushing me away as I thought he would, Bishop wrapped his arms around me, a shuddering breath going through him too.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, knowing I’d crossed a line.

  “It’s nothing, it’s your nature.” His voice was softer and I felt his fingers sift through my hair.

  It wasn’t nothing, but I didn’t say anything else, it felt too nice to have him hold me. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, I could have lingered in his arms all night, but eventually he let go of me and stepped away, and I bit my lip to keep from protesting the withdrawal. I looked up, expecting to see some sort of disapproval on his face, but his expression was shuttered.

  “I think I need a drink, you want anything?” His voice was mild, as if we had been watching TV instead of pawing at each other not two minutes before.

  “No, I’m good.” That was an understatement, I felt fantastic. No longer hot and feverish, my entire body thrummed with life. As I rose to my feet to follow him into the living room, I felt lighter, my balance restored. No more clumsy Anja crashing her way into the coffee table and everything else. I’m pretty sure my hair was bouncier and shinier too, it was like an instant makeover from the inside out. If anyone ever figured out how to bottle vampire blood and distribute it to the nation, they’d make a fortune. Or more likely, end up dead at the bottom of the river.

  Bishop obviously wanted to ignore what passed between us, so I went with it, taking a seat on the couch while he stood next to the sideboard, drink in hand. “Was that you playing the piano before?”

  “What are you doing here, Anja?”

  So much for small talk. “I needed help, I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “We talked about this. I’m not your Sire.”

  “Okay, but who else could I possibly ask? Everyone at the bar thinks I know what I’m doing. Aleksandr, Jarrod, Rob, even Scotty thinks I’m an old hand at this. One wrong question and I’m toast. Actually no, I don’t think Rob thinks I’m that old for some reason.”