by Julia Mills
Wholeheartedly agreeing but keeping his thoughts to himself, Alaric couldn’t look away from the smiling photo of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Just the sight of her made him recall how one whiff of her succulent scent had driven him wild. The need to have her, hold her, be with her was overwhelming. Had cut through his devastating hunger, given him the purpose and direction he’d been without since that first horrifying nightmare over thirty days ago.
“You will never touch her again. Do you understand?” Alaric grumbled, adding power to his voice so that there was no mistaking his position on the matter.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. I only carried her out of the club because that asshole was causing trouble in Silk Fantasies and the Lookie Loos were blocking every fuckin’ hallway. I thought I was helping.”
“I’m sure you did…help.” Throwing Sampson’s phone back to him, Alaric turned on the heel of his boot, dashed out of the vault and ran through the streets at top speed, only stopping when he was inside the hospital. Scouring the halls, he quickly found her scent, then waited in awe as he watched how tenderly and compassionately she comforted her patient’s parents.
Following closely when she left the waiting room, he’d felt her sadness, known she needed time alone and had respected that as far as he could. Racing up the stairs, keeping up with the quickly rising elevator, he’d exited the stairwell just a few steps behind her. Waiting until she was in the Chapel, he’d slipped into the back, stood against the wall and watched until the loudspeaker had interrupted Ashlynn’s prayers.
That was where Alaric had lost his battle. His need to know her had been the victor. He’d had to touch her, to speak to her, to make any connection that he could, no matter how brief.
Inhaling deeply, the scent of buttercups and poppies wrapping around him, through him, over him, a balm to his soul and relief to his agony, Alaric panted. His fangs retracted. His claws reverted to his usual well-manicured nails, and his pain floated away, taking with it the hunger, if only for a few moments. Unfortunately, the insatiable desire to have Ashlynn by his side, within his arms, her beautiful body accepting his over and over again, pushed his erection past pleasure to pain as it threatened to rip through the zipper of his pants.
Stumbling into the Chapel, Alaric dropped into the first pew he came to, hidden by the darkness and shadows. There had to be something incredibly wrong with a Vampire being in a Sanctuary, with a hard-on, unable to control his dark urges for more than a few minutes, but it couldn’t be helped. Gods forgive him, dreams of his cock buried deep inside Ashlynn, her nails scoring his back, her screams of pleasure feeding their mutual desire were running through his mind like horses around a track.
“Son of a b…” He swallowed the curse, sure he was already damned to Hell, but not wanting a ticket on the Express Train. “My epitaph will read ‘Doomed”.
Churches, religion…his faith, they’d all been very important to him before he became a vampire, and had been one of the few things that had seen him through learning to control his hunger and living without the sun. He’d even fallen to his knees and praised the Heavens the day he’d returned to the light and walked under the shining rays of the sun.
Over the years, as the world became more learned, so did he and so did his beliefs. It was something private and personal, not something he shared with anyone…but Thaddeus.
Looking at the altar, his eyes lit on the cross. Once again, his mind was drawn to Thad. Without overthinking it, he called to his brethren for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Something that hadn’t happened for nearly four hundred years.
Poking at the mental blocks his brother-in-arms had constructed, Alaric finally broke through and called out, “Thaddeus, please do not deny me your wisdom. I fear I’m losing my mind, and am in need of your counsel.”
The cold, austere silence was almost as frightening as the madness closing in all around him. His control slipping a little more with every passing heartbeat, Alaric gripped the hard, wooden armrest, trying his best not to rip it from the back. There was no way he would lose control, no way he would go rogue. He was a Super. He’d lived more than two millennia. There was no way in Heaven or Hell he was letting himself fall into the darkness, only to be hunted by the likes of Clarence Collins and his band of bloodthirsty Enforcers. If Thaddeus wouldn’t help him, then he’d find someone else. There was simply no…
“Quiet your mind, Brother. I am here.” Thaddeus’ words broke through the cacophony of chaos, throwing out a bright, glowing lifeline that Alaric gripped with both hands.
“Thank the gods you answered. It’s happening. What you predicted all those years ago. I am finally losing my mind, Brother. The icy claws of madness have taken hold. I feel my sanity slipping away.”
“Tell me of your experience. I am sure that together we can see you through to the other side of whatever ails you.”
A wave of warm, uplifting calm followed Thaddeus’ words, allowing Alaric to put his thoughts in order. Once again, as it always was when he spoke to Thaddeus, guilt over their shared past rose up within the ancient Vamp, remorse that he somehow knew would follow him for all his days.
Shaking it off, Alaric began to explain, “It started with a dream over a month ago. I saw bodies everywhere. Their throats torn out, severed limbs lying in piles, the walls painted in blood.” He paused, preparing to utter the words he hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Ruari, when Thaddeus whispered, “And you at the center, lost to the madness. A rogue Vampire whose only future was the True Death at the hands of the Directive.”
The words were spoken so matter-of-factly, so void of emotion that Alaric could only reply, “Aye.”
He could feel Thaddeus waiting, his years of solitude affording him the ability to close his mind off to everything, sit in silence for as long as it took, and simply be. It was one of the many reasons Alaric thought so highly of his brother when Thad put his mind to something, nothing but God himself could change it.
Scratching at the stubble on his chin, Alaric continued, “Since that time, my hunger has been insatiable. Bagged blood no longer sustains me. I need it fresh from the source. To feel their heartbeat quicken as my fangs penetrate their skin. To let their hot, coppery, life essence flow over my tongue, down my throat, satiating not only my hunger but the intense need burning through me as I fuck them over and over, taking them to the brink of death, holding them there for countless seconds then striking again, finishing the deed, only to seek out another, and another and…”
“And you can find no relief?”
“No, none,” he growled. “And the Directive has sent their newest Enforcer to investigate a new rash of vampire related deaths. I must get this under control. They cannot know what is happening to me, or they will…”
“Execute with extreme prejudice.” Thaddeus finished Alaric’s thought before going on. “I am sorry, Brother. I have no knowledge of anything that comes close to what you are experiencing. Have you spoken to the Dragon? He is older than both of us and holds the wisdom of the ages passed down from his kin.” Pausing for a split-second the monk then added, “He will also be able to help with the loss of control over your Dragon fire.”
“How did you…?”
“As it has always been, you lower your guard when you are speaking to me.” There was a smile in Thaddeus’ voice that Alaric hadn’t heard in years. Maybe there still was hope for his solitary, guilt-ridden brother. However, saving Thaddeus would have to wait until Alaric could save himself.
“Thank you, Thaddeus. Not only for today, but for all the years you have been there. You are truly someone I can count on.”
“Aye, and thank you, Alaric, my brother. Now, call the Dragon.”
Once again the gates of Thad’s mind slammed shut, leaving Alaric once again feeling as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. Opening the bright glowing link buried deep within his mind that he shared with Carrick, the Leader of the Golden Fire Clan of Dragons, Al
aric called, “Carrick?”
“Alaric!” The Dragon’s reply was quick and emphatic, filling the Vampire’s mind with kinship and brotherly affection. “How have you been? It has been nearly a decade since we’ve spoken.”
“Aye. I apologize for not keeping in touch life has been, well, I have no excuses. How have you been?”
“I am fine, but I can tell from the chaos in your mind that you are not.”
That was Carrick, forever the Leader, always direct, always concerned, never backing down. Letting the pleasantries go, Alaric forged ahead. “Aye, you are right, old friend. I fear I am slipping into the darkness of my kind. My hunger is insatiable, both for blood and for sex. I have had to stop taking blood from humans all together for fear that I will leave a trail of dead and drained bodies in my wake, but bagged blood does not to satisfy me. It is like filling the ocean with an eye dropper.” He paused, feeling the waves of comfort and healing Carrick was sending through the bond that they shared, touching the Dragon fire in the depths of Alaric’s soul relieving its immediate need to rampage.
Before he could continue, Carrick spoke up, “Aye, I see your memories, of not only reality but of your dreams. I see the discourse and disruption, and it is something I have not seen in nearly a millennium. Even now, your hunger beats at me like an enemy’s blade upon my shield. I can feel the fire in your veins, rising to meet the invisible invader that has stolen your control, taken your resolve.”
“My gums ache as yours do. My skin feels as if it is being stretched beyond its reach, my muscles ache, my fangs long to retract, to tear and render nubile flesh, it is indeed maddening, but nothing you cannot handle.”
Hanging on the Elder Dragon’s every word, Alaric felt Carrick erect mental blocks to keep the madness from drawing him any farther into its abyss, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “As I said, I have heard of this before. Our Ancients have even addressed it in the annals of Dragon history. But, to be sure, I must ask, is there anything that soothes your pain, relieves you of the hunger and need.”
No sooner had the words been spoken than Ashlynn’s beautiful face appeared, like a bright, shining light of all that was right and good in the world, at the forefront of Alaric’s mind. “Aye,” he answered, an immediate and powerful wave of jealousy causing him to hide the doctor’s glorious countenance from his old friend. “I have.”
Laughter filled their bond as Carrick teased, “You don’t have to hide her from me. As I’ve told you many times over the years, the Universe has provided for her favored warriors by creating one perfect woman for each of us, the elusive piece of our soul, the one person in all the world who will complete us as no other.” Clearing his throat, the Dragon hurried on, “And now, the time has come that I must tell you something I have been waiting to share since the moment we forged our bond. You, my brother, also have One that was made for you. One…”
“What the hell are you talking about, Carrick? What bullshit are you shovelin’? I’ve come to you for help with my hunger, to help me reclaim my control, to harness the raging beast within, keep my head on my shoulders and not in a funeral pyre after being removed by an Enforcer’s blade. What the fuck, man? Do you want me dead?”
“No.” The Dragon’s conviction and authority rang through Alaric’s mind, followed closely by Carrick’s irritation and impatience with the out of control vampire. “What I want is for you to listen to what I’m saying, heed my words. It is you who came to me and now, you shall listen to what I have to say.” Going on, his voice returning to his usual cadence, the Elder Dragon explained, “There is nearly an entire volume in the annals of Dragon History that tell of what your kin believe to be a myth, the Vampire’s Thirst and the ever elusive bloodmate, the embodiment of your salvation, my friend. This woman is the light to your darkness, the fire to your ice, the only hope you have of bringing children into this world, of true love, of the mythical happily-ever-after we are all searching for no matter what we admit only to ourselves.”
Unable to respond, shocked to his very core, Alaric thought back to the tales of the mystical bloodmate he’d heard from his grandmother even before the Christ child was born. Brygid would smile, her eyes would glaze over, and she would tell the stories she’d heard of the bloodmate. Alaric had always believed it to be a fairy tale, something contrived by the older ones to give those who came after them some hope of a ‘normal’ life.
Whatever the fuck normal is…
“I heard that,” Carrick snickered sarcastically. “Being cheeky is not going to solve your problems, letting yourself believe and doing what is necessary is the only thing that will keep you from losing your mind and your life.” The Dragon went on, “What you are experiencing is the Vampire’s Thirst, the all-too-real, visceral, gut-wrenching sign that your bloodmate is real, there and if you are to survive, you must claim her. Do I have your attention now?”
“Alright, I’m listening, but it’s gonna take more than a few words from your history to convince me that my bloodmate has suddenly appeared after two thousand years. It’s gonna take proof, hard evidence, not fairy tales.”
“Then let me ask you, as you’re tearing through bags of blood and fucking your way through Dallas, have you found even a moment’s peace?”
Once again, Ashlynn’s face appeared. Her deep brown eyes sparkled like finely polished onyx, her light brown hair, streaked with strands of pure sunlight grazed her porcelain cheeks just as his fingers ached to do. The scent of home, of poppies and buttercups, filled his senses, soothed his soul, gave his soul the peace he needed to see clearly.
“And there it is, all the proof I can give you. This woman, this Ashlynn, that not only your body but your heart and soul, long to bond with, is your Bloodmate. The one woman in all the world that can satiate your Thirst, give you back your control, and save your life.”
Letting out the breath he was holding, Alaric remembered the pain, the agony he’d felt by letting Ashlynn dash away. In his crazed consciousness he’d known it was the right thing to do, that she was a doctor and someone might die without her help, but that hadn’t stopped the craving, the searing ache in his gut, the twisting and cramping of every single muscle in his body, the fiery need to possess her – body, mind and soul - that forced him into the Chapel…the reason he’d called to his kin for help.
Be careful what you ask for because you just might get it…
Chapter Ten
Speeding into the Recovery Room, Ashlynn had a mere second of relief that the Code Blue was not for Timmy James before the healer in her took over and she raced over to help her colleague, Dr. Roberts, attempt to save his eighty-five-year-old patient, Mrs. Rabinowitz. Everyone on the team, doctors, nurses, techs, fought for nearly two hours to bring the jovial woman back to life, but it was not to be. Heaven gained another angel, one who had been a shining light to all who knew her for the better part of a century.
Walking beside Dr. Roberts, Ashlynn knew there were no words, that her friend only needed to know she was there if he needed her. Unlike what she would’ve done, Roberts didn’t go to the Chapel, he instead went outside to the beautifully landscaped Courtyard and took a seat under the canopy of the limbs of the incredibly old oak tree.
Sitting on the same concrete bench, in the silence of the night, Ashlynn let her eyes slide shut as the cool night air blew the stray hairs off her cheeks and sounds of a quiet metropolis wrapped around her like a soft, fuzzy blanket. She prayed for Mrs. Rabinowitz’s family and the void that losing their matriarch would leave. She once again prayed for Timmy and the James family and for all the hospital staff who had committed themselves to save every life that they possibly could.
Her thoughts drifted as they always did when she’d had little to no sleep. Pictures of her childhood, images of her parents and grandparents, snapshots of laughter and good times with her friends, they all swirled together leading Ash to a place she didn’t recognize. Heather-covered the rolling hills. A soft, cool mist floated just above th
e lush green moors as the heavenly scent of fresh flowers, and rich earth filled her senses.
Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the vision. Although new, there was something familiar, inviting, welcoming about the place. The sound of horse hooves, something she was familiar with having grown up around all sorts of animals on her uncle’s farm, Ash turned, her heart beating faster the closer the stranger galloped towards her.
Mesmerized by the rider’s sharp features, his dark piercing eyes, and the way his long, dark hair flowed behind him like silken ribbons on the wind, Ashlynn could barely breathe. Smiling, unable to stop the joy at seeing him up close, she stood perfectly still as the man dressed in the blue and gray tartan of the MacAngoran Clan halted his stallion to her left and immediately jumped to the ground.
Closing the distance between them so quickly she hadn’t seen him move, Ashlynn looked into the depths of his eyes, a perfect mix of cobalt blue and ashen charcoal as he wrapped his hands around hers. Shivers ran up her arms and down her spine at his touch. Looking to where their hands were intertwined, she imagined how perfectly his long, nimble fingers, like those of a pianist, would play her body like the most stunning concerto. Pulling her towards him, his strong arm around her waist making her tremble as the soft curves of her bosom met the muscular planes of his chest.
“Ashlynn.” The whisper of her name of his lips was music to her ears. Lifting her eyes to his, she…
“Ashlynn. Ashlynn, wake up.”
With her eyes flying open, she saw her own reflection in the lenses of Dr. Roberts’ glasses as he went on with a chuckle, “I think you drifted off there, Ash.”
Grinning along with her colleague, Ashlynn wiped the sleep from her eyes as she snickered, “I think you’re right. It has definitely been a whopper of a couple of days.”
“I know what you mean.” Standing up to his full height, Roberts’ added, “You need a lift home?”