Romance with a Bite

by Tamsin Baker

  Which of them has been taken? Why? And how? If there was anything I could do, I would do it, but I already know I’m too late. Instead I just lay here in the grass in Darrie’s home paddock, sniffling amidst the wet earth and the cow patties and living the reality of death. So much death.

  The agony goes on, longer and more intense than ever before, and my keening intensifies in nature. Oh, no. More than one. This time, there must be more than one.

  I can’t bear the thought of losing either, but both? Unthinkable. Darrie and Gwen are an older couple who opened their home and their hearts to a strange and lonely young woman when she first arrived in the region. I boarded with them for two years, until they transferred the mostly wooded portion of their land atop the hill and presented the title to me as a gift. They gave me everything I now own, simply because of their innate kindness. I owe my life to them. I owe my continuing connection with humanity to this beautiful and generous couple.

  Can’t stop. Keep going. Save them.

  Somehow, I stagger to my feet and hobble forward, a few tiny steps at a time. The agony is seated deep within me, as if my very blood carries pain to every part of my body. It feels like I’m about to be cut in half, and yet I’m nearly there. A few meters more and I’ll be within reach of their door. It’s open, light spilling out onto the three steps leading up to the porch. A few meters more and maybe I can warn them to watch out. To fight off whatever is coming…

  The flash of movement to my left is too fast for any eyes to register properly, even mine. I catch only a flicker of shadow-light-shadow before I’m being lifted into a firm embrace and carried away from the scene. Musk and spice rise around me. Luc? Did he do this to my friends? Did I save a murderer last night, and in the saving, ensure the deaths of Darrie and Gwen?

  Am I about to die, too?

  My scream of despair mixes in with the wailing and yet all that emerges is another strangled whisper. Why, why? Take me back. I need to go back, to warn them…

  “Too late, little banshee. And it’s far too dangerous for you to be out and about in this obviously helpless state.”

  The words are full of sorrow. Death, and sorrow, and pain. I can’t hold it off one second more. My eyes close and I sink into the loss. I’m never going to come back from the agony of this.

  My fault. My fault. I’m so sorry.

  Strong arms continue to hold tight. Soft words murmur in my ear. A gentle voice, crooning, hints that everything is going to be all right. But it’s not.

  “Death came.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, banshee.”

  Death. Not for one of them, but for both. I feel it. I’m living it. And nothing will ever be all right again.

  ***

  Luc

  Death came. Oh yes, it came with a vengeance. Aleah’s voice is cracked and bereft. I don’t think she even knows where she is at this moment. How the hell did she get herself across the fields in this state? I can’t carry her back inside her home without permission, and for a while she’s too distraught to provide it. There’s a swing seat nestled at the edge of her porch, so eventually, I choose to wait there. I balance her limp body across my lap and rock her as gently as I can. After what seems like hours, she quietens and the soft keening turns into something more like sobs.

  “They’ve both passed on now.” Her eventual words are full of sorrow.

  “I’m not surprised.” Hopefully she didn’t get a proper look at the state of those two bodies that littered the graveled yard. Bits of arm, pieces of leg, blobs of flesh scattered everywhere. The fact that the elderly male survived as long as he did was testament to what must have been a true fighting spirit. No chance for the woman. From what I could see, her head was torn off in the initial attack.

  This killer clearly did not want to feed. It wanted to destroy, and with a viciousness I’ve rarely witnessed even in my extended lifetime.

  “Will you invite me inside, Aleah?”

  “You again.” She hiccups, but her voice is resigned, not resentful, and I know she’s coming back to herself.

  “Me again.”

  “They died horribly.”

  I don’t pretend to be ignorant. “Yes, they did. Did you know them well?”

  She nods, and wipes snot from her nose with the back of a hand. A streak of mud is left behind. She’s going to need a bath when she gets inside.

  “They were good friends of mine.” A bitter laugh escapes. “I don’t have many. And… they were kind. Really nice people. Without them I wouldn’t have this place. Wouldn’t have my home, or my business. Or my beautiful bees…”

  Tears well again, but this time she holds them in. Her eyes look enormous and haunted.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “They didn’t deserve anything bad to happen to them, but especially not…that. Who would—” I know the instant the thought hits by her sudden recoil. She seems strong enough to stand, so I slowly release my hold and allow her to slide down off my lap. It’s harder than I expect to let her go. I enjoy the way her body heats mine when I hold her. Once standing, she takes a giant step back, those luminous eyes narrowing in accusation. “Did you—”

  “No. I did not.”

  After a moment of uncanny stillness, she nods. Slowly, I get to my feet. Now is not the time to spook her. “But I know who did.”

  “Who?”

  “One of the rogues who caught me off-guard last night. The vamp.” A twitch of muscle beneath one eye is her only response. I briefly lift my healed arm. “I killed the were who disabled me, but the other one got away. I thought maybe he’d have left the area by now, but he is obviously hanging around for some reason.”

  “Is that normal?”

  My mouth tightens. “Nothing about this situation is normal. Rogues go loup. They don’t think rationally, and they certainly don’t work in partnership with anyone else. Blood lust takes them and they kill and run, kill and run. An endless cycle, without thought or calculation, until someone brings them down. This…”

  I shake my head and stare out into the night, straining to sense anything that might give me a clue as to what the hell is driving the monsters out there hunting humans with such unusual intent. The only sounds beyond standard night creature rustlings are the faint wail of a siren as emergency services make their way presumably toward the tragedy at the neighboring property, and, overlaying it all, Aleah’s raspy breath.

  “This is all wrong, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think someone is compelling them to do this? Someone, or something… unnatural?”

  “It’s a possibility.” I shrug, unwilling to drag her into this any more than she already has been. Something unnatural. I’m beginning to suspect that is exactly what’s happening. Unnatural and definitely evil. The rogue behavior seems intentional. Planned, almost. The opposite of what one would expect from a crazed loup.

  She nods, as if it was something she already guessed, and joins me in looking out at the night.

  “Did they suffer a lot?”

  “Your friends?” How is one supposed to answer that, other than with truth? “Yes.”

  “Right.” Her arms fold across her middle.

  “I won’t lie to you.”

  Now it’s her turn to shrug. “I don’t even understand why I asked. I already knew the answer.”

  “You felt it?”

  “Yeah. That’s generally how it…works.” Her last word falters and she staggers. I reach out and grab her elbow to steady her, and this time she doesn’t shift away from my touch. She must feel worse than she looks, to accept my support so complacently.

  “If you let me help you inside, I’ll leave immediately, if that’s what you wish.”

  “Hmm.” A snort escapes her. “Feels a bit like déjà vu. Why are you back here, Luc? What were you doing…there? What’s your role in all of this?”

  “Hunting.” My grim tone causes her breath to catch, but I shake my head. “Not humans, Aleah. I revisite
d the clearing where I was ambushed and tracked the vamp from there. The scent led me in a wide meandering circle around your property and all the way back to your friends’ farm. Unfortunately, I was too late to save them.”

  “As was I.” Her voice is faint, and after a minute she leans into me. The way her curves mold against my side stirs something once again in my loins, but now is not the time to explore anything related to lust. I tighten my arm around her waist and wait for her decision.

  “All right.” She seems exhausted, as if there’s nothing left in the tank. “You may enter, Lukey.”

  This time the ridiculous nickname doesn’t bother me. I can tell it’s an attempt at reaching out toward something—anything—light-hearted. A feeble attempt, perhaps, but clearly death takes a heavy toll even on those still living. I don’t know exactly what it feels like to be a harbinger of death, but from the state of Aleah, it appears to suck the life out of whoever is charged with that miserable task.

  No wonder the other banshee I met was so bitter. To live with that level of anguish on a regular basis would likely be enough to turn anyone into a bundle of negativity. Anyone except Aleah. Despite what she must endure on a regular basis, she still retains that sense of lightness and life. I perceive it within her, strong and sure, as clearly as I do her heartbeat. Life force.

  She must be a rare creature indeed, to be able to rise above the suffering and cling to life so determinedly.

  Right now, though, her reliance on my strength to get her back into the house is a reversal of the previous evening. A swell of something that I can’t quite identify rises deep within. It’s more than a physical attraction. That would be easy to recognize. Perhaps it’s as simple as the fact that someone needs me, if only for a few minutes. She needs me. The experience of being needed is new, and more enjoyable than I want it to be.

  I’m used to living—and working—alone. As a vampire whose Mistress is no longer in this world, I have no coven. No family. The House was disbanded when the woman who turned us died, and even though another rose in her place and the flock reformed under a new Master, the nature of our Maker’s death meant that I have no chance of ever being accepted back in to the fold. I’ve been ex-communicated.

  My mind shies away from the dark sadness of those early years of isolation. Instead, I focus on the here and now. I have a job and a purpose, and these days my isolation is by choice, rather than necessity.

  When I say alone, though, I don’t mean in a physical sense. There is always someone who wants to be fucked by a vamp. Often many “someones”, and on occasion, all at the same time. But emotionally? No. Emotion slows you down. Emotion can get you killed. Emotion damn well hurts.

  In my previous—human—life, I knew what it was to love. I knew what it was to be betrayed by that love. Since my turning and ex-communication, I have not needed anyone in that way. Until the moment a strange pang strikes hard in my chest when I assist a dirt-and-snot-covered little banshee into her home.

  “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “Upstairs. But you don’t have to—”

  “More stairs! Up we go, then.” I sweep her back into my arms and she releases a tiny, protesting moan, followed by a long, capitulating sigh. The lack of protest is clear evidence of her current level of exhaustion. Her head flops down to rest on my chest and once again, a strange warmth rises within me.

  “You’re like a bad smell, Lukey. Can’t get rid of you.”

  “Charming.”

  Her eyes close and her head lolls. She’s gone, wherever banshees go to recharge their inner batteries when the agony of the death call has come and gone.

  The fact that she lasted this long before losing consciousness is testament to her inner strength. Aleah’s dichotomous mix of fortitude and fragility fascinates me on so many levels, and yet we’ve hardly had time to get to know one another at all.

  I glance through doorways as I make my way along the upstairs hallway. A pristine white bathroom is on the left, almost directly opposite what appears to be a spare bedroom, before we reach the room at the end.

  The size denotes this as the main bedroom even before Aleah’s scent hits my nostrils. This is definitely where she sleeps. The honeyed notes are every bit as flowery and sweet as the woman herself, and as I rest her now-sleeping form on the bed, I hope she doesn’t mind about the mud on that previously pristine white comforter. Too late if she does. Probably should have removed her boots first. And maybe wiped her face and hands.

  I glance around to see if I can glean more about this strange, intriguing woman. She seems more human than fae in terms of her general demeanor, but I suspect that’s a deliberate attempt to ignore the faerie half of her blood. Pastel wallpaper, adorned with silvery stripes at various intervals, and delicate white furniture fill the room. Touches of yellow and blue add a restful air. The bed dominates, being king-sized and covered with a puffy comforter. I feel suddenly too large, too gauche, and too masculine for this place.

  Dare I stay, even for a little while? Will her blood song be too strong to resist? It can’t hurt, surely, for at least a few minutes, to keep her company and ensure her recovery is well underway. She’s so frail-looking, lying there in the center of that enormous mattress. Surely it would be wrong to leave her alone at this point?

  What has gotten into me? I can’t remember the last time I cared this much about the emotional welfare of a living, breathing creature.

  I find myself almost on auto-pilot as I head back up the hallway to locate a washcloth in the bathroom and return to clean her face and hands. I then proceed to remove her dirt-clad clothing. She’s not wearing a bra beneath her top and, finally, when she’s laid out on the bed with nothing but a pair of bright pink panties covering her mound, it takes all my strength not to lean in and suck those rose-peaked nipples deep into my mouth.

  My fangs unsheathe at the beauty of her body spread-eagled before me, and my loins tighten at the thought of lapping at her hybrid flesh and sucking on those enticing peaks. Her skin color is creamy rather than white, lush and warm when I run my fingertips experimentally across her belly before reluctantly shifting her onto her side. I need to extract the coverlet from beneath her so I can conceal her now-sleeping form before my libido takes over and reduces my brain to a state where logic no longer exists.

  She releases a tiny moan when I touch her, and that sound is almost my undoing. This woman exudes sensuality and yet, she doesn’t even seem to know it.

  I clear my throat, which has thickened in tandem with my cock. Remember, she’s off-limits until she wakes. Instead of doing what I know is the sensible thing and leaving her alone to sleep it off, I remove my own boots and clothing, and climb in beside her beneath the covers. It’s as if I’ve permanently switched to auto-pilot. I can’t seem to control my actions. She immediately rolls into my arms, her long body folding itself against mine as easily as if we were made for each other. Two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together perfectly.

  Bad idea, man. Bad idea. I keep replaying the cautionary mantra in my head, but it appears my brain is no longer listening.

  I shift her dark hair that has fallen in a tangle across her face, and slide one of my arms beneath her shoulder, and then realize my error as she sighs and settles more comfortably into my embrace. If I try to leave now, she’ll wake, and I have the feeling she needs plenty of sleep to recover from whatever trauma her banshee soul has just endured.

  Who is she, this unusual hybrid, and how did she come to be all the way out here in the wilderness, living alone in the middle of mostly empty fields and wooded forest? What is her story? What is her background? And why does she so clearly distrust all vampires?

  A vampire ruined my life. Her mention of that fact last night caused an uneasy sensation to settle in my gut. My kind can be vicious. We are, at our core, essentially cruel and predatory, and the thought of Aleah being on the receiving end of a vampire’s cruelty fills me with disquiet.

  Since all the supernatural creat
ures came out of hiding thirty or so years ago, the world as everyone knew it turned on its axis and eventually resettled into a new normal. It took time, though. Time for those who clung to the old ways to adjust and realize that the Accord was created for the betterment of all of us, no matter which species or realm we belong to.

  Today, supes mingle alongside humans; fae pass freely between realms as more safe passages open up, and even the existence of angels and demons has been acknowledged as inroads continue to be made into negotiating a peaceful existence for all. Overall there’ve been some positive developments to help reduce the fear and anxiety experienced by all sides in relation to living with those different from their own kind.

  She’s half-fae herself, so Aleah must have always been well aware that there are many things other than human out there, even if her human relatives were the ones to raise her. And there are many things other than vampire that cause death and destruction in their wake.

  Why is she so afraid of my kind? What, specifically, happened to make her so close-minded? What did a vampire do to ruin her life?

  She arches her neck suddenly, angling her chin away from me. The movement is clearly unconscious as she sleeps. I catch a glimpse of the regular thump of her carotid, steady and sure. The solid beat fascinates me. I cannot look away. Without volition, my fangs release from their sheath once again and I bend toward that heady pulse with a low purr emanating from my throat. No. I can’t. Not without her permission. Definitely not while she sleeps.

  I’m more than old enough to feed without draining her, if I wish. She would not feel a thing other than the briefest of pricks and then a slow, sensual whoosh as her blood released into my system. The heady desire that naturally accompanies a feed would ignite her sex and, should I choose, I could lead her to orgasm with a single touch of my incisors. The lure is almost too much. My fang tips graze her skin and I inhale. Divine. What an aphrodisiac she would be.