by Kallysten
It might have been interesting to discuss it with Don—except that Vincent was quite determined not to ever tell his friend about what had happened exactly between him and Lilia. Don would probably have taken that as an excuse to completely stop doing spells for Vincent, and talented wizards were too hard to find for Vincent to let him go. Don was talented, whatever he said; two mishaps in seven years didn't change that.
No, he wouldn't tell Don, or anyone else for that matter. No one needed to know he was Mated to a vampire he had once sworn to kill.
* * * *
Lilia had never liked magic. In her whole existence, being near full-fledged witches or beginning practitioners alike had never turned out well for her. Her dislike had always amused Nathanael, and it was because of it that he had sent her rather than another of his Childer or minions to pick up the newly raised vampire who should have become the clan's new resident wizard and seer.
She now had two more reasons to dislike magic; although, the dislike was quickly turning into loathing.
First, they had placed this truth spell on her, and she had been unable to keep her mouth shut as they asked her questions. Unable, also, to tell anything but the truth. If Nathanael ever learned how much information she had given them, it would be a long and painful time before he allowed her to die.
Then ... although that had happened first, hadn't it? By listening to the two humans talk, she had understood what had happened to her and Jordan. Why they had so suddenly fallen into bed together. Why she had suggested marriage, and why he had gone so far as to propose a Mating. Magic, all of it. And the irony of it was that the boy had been caught by his own game when the spell that had been supposed to target only her had morphed into something wider. It did nothing to soften the blow.
Some day, they would pay for what they had done to her. Stupid, clueless humans who played with forces they barely understood and got her burned in the process.
It was with a murderous glare that she welcomed the return of the two men as they walked out of the kitchen, but they ignored her completely on their way to the front door.
"You're sure?” the apprentice wizard was saying. “There was this fire spell you wanted me to practice..."
"You're not playing with fire in my house, Don,” Jordan laughed. “And yes, I am quite sure I can dust one lone vamp when she's chained in my living room, thank you."
Lilia froze for a second then tried to turn toward the door to see Jordan, see if he was serious, but she only caught a glimpse of him as he closed the door then crossed the room. She whipped around to the other side only to see him open a heavy wooden chest and pull out something she couldn't see. Things were not looking good.
Chapter 5
"Jordan, wait! There's something you need to know before..."
Lilia's panicked voice trailed off while Vincent used the dagger he had just picked up to slice through her bonds; he couldn't help a slight grin of amusement at having scared her. She glared at him, an accusatory gleam in her eyes.
"You know, don't you?” she grumbled as she rubbed at her wrists where the cord had chafed them.
"I thought we had already established that,” he replied with a snort. “I'm not stupid, Lilia. I realize that if I kill you, I'm as good as dead. I just hope you realize the reverse is true for you."
With that, he threw her the key for the chains still binding her feet; she might have a lot to lose by killing him, but that didn't mean he would kneel at her feet and literally serve himself up on a platter. She was silent as she unlocked the shackles and barely glanced at him as she stood and stretched.
"You're going to let me leave that easily?” she asked after a few seconds when she finally looked straight at him again.
He had been asking himself the same question practically since the spell had dissolved around them and brought back their old hatred. He still wasn't sure whether he was making a big mistake or doing the right thing.
"I don't really see what else I can do,” he shrugged. “Unless you want to remain chained in the middle of my living room for the next fifty years or so?” She gave him a deadly glare, and he answered with a dry smile. “Didn't think so. I can't kill you. I can't keep you here. I guess that means letting you go, yeah. But there's a catch."
"Isn't there always?"
Ignoring her words, he picked up the rope and chains on the floor and put them back in the chest where they belonged.
"I'm letting you go,” he repeated, “but I'm also warning you. You'd better not try anything against my friends or me. There are many ways for me to hurt you without having to kill you, just give me one reason and I will."
The same was true for her too, but he didn't think it was wise to point that out to her. She didn't comment on it either, and instead, arms crossed, she raised her chin defiantly. “Any reason? Does that mean I can't feed either? You might as well try to stake me now, it will save us time."
What he meant to suggest left a bad taste in his mouth before he even said it, but she was right in a way, if he didn't give her a minimum of freedom he might as well dust her right there and then and be done with it.
"I'm not saying you can't feed,” he said very slowly, observing her for any clue as to what she was thinking. “Maybe you could feed in one of these bars where humans pay to be bitten.” He could see from the undisguised disgust on her face what she thought of that particular option, but then again, he hadn't really thought she was the type to sell herself. Older vamps were rarely seen in those bars. “It would probably be simpler if you just left town,” he finished with a shrug. “That way there'd be no risk of me catching you red fanged. I'd have to kill you if I did, no matter what the consequences were for me."
What he wasn't saying, but felt confident enough that she would read between the lines, was that he wouldn't do anything as long as she was clever enough not to let him catch her. He hated this blurring of the lines, but he didn't see what else he could do.
Until now, vampires had been separated in two distinct categories in his mind; the ones who killed humans and the ones who played by human rules. The first, he tracked every night, and the second he left alone. He wished he could have moved Lilia from the first category to the other, but he couldn't delude himself enough to believe that someone who had killed for almost two hundred years would change her ways just to accommodate him. He tried to remind himself that there were more vampires to kill than he could count, and that not dusting one wouldn't make too much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, but he knew already that the guilt would be there, eventually. That was why he hoped she would leave town and take the matter out of his hands.
For what felt like an eternity but was only a minute or two, she returned his look, hiding what she thought too well for him to guess. Eventually, she inclined her head, barely, and he took that as her agreement.
Pivoting on her heels, she started walking to the door, and he shook his head at her stiff back.
"You're going to step right out into the sun? You do realize it's early morning, right?"
She stopped dead in her tracks, and he could see her fists closing and opening repeatedly for a few seconds before she looked back at him, an eyebrow raised and twitching. She wouldn't ask, he realized, she was too proud for that, and he was too tired to play her game.
"You can stay until sunset. Just don't...” Shaking his head at the futility of what he had been about to say—asking her not to touch anything was probably a guarantee she would do just that—he finished his request with, “just leave me alone."
Even as exhausted as he was, it took Vincent a long time before he could finally drift into a half sleep. He couldn't help listening for noises coming from the first floor. Water running, she must have taken a shower. The fridge opening, did she expect to find blood in there? Soft steps and creaking noises, it sounded as though she was inspecting the apartment and everything that was in it, and after a few seconds, Vincent managed to convince himself that he didn't care. Voices on th
e television, Vincent snorted when he realized she was watching a talk show about vampires. The muffled noise finally lulled him and he fell asleep, a stake clenched tight in his hand.
His dreams were achingly vivid.
* * * *
Slowly—oh so slowly, oh so gently—Vincent enters Lilia for the first time, and to both of them it is a revelation. Neither of them were virgins, yet at this instant they both are as they discover each other and how perfect their union is. They both think it even if neither says it; they were made for each other, that much is clear when their gazes lock and they smile.
Together, they reach for each other's mouth and kiss; chastely at first then their tongues join the dance even as Vincent gently rocks his cock inside Lilia. It soon becomes both too much and not enough, and the kiss breaks while their rhythm accelerates, bringing them closer to ecstasy with each slide of his cock, each movement of her hips.
They are so close already, joined in the most intimate way and ready to soar together, neither of them truly believing that they could become any closer. But when Lilia murmurs, “Together", when her fangs pierce the flesh at the base of Vincent's neck, when his own teeth, human and blunt in comparison, close down on the crook of her shoulder, hard enough to break her skin, they realize, in the same instant, that they were wrong.
This, the sharing of bodies and blood, is the ultimate act of intimacy; and at the same moment, pleasure overwhelms them both. For the mere second that it takes ancient forces to bind them, they are the same; they know the other's thoughts and heart, know everything that makes them two different persons even as their lives are woven as one. The knowledge recedes as the Mating is completed, leaving them breathless, dazed, and incredibly whole.
They fall apart, each of them lying on their back and staring up, unseeingly, at the stars that witnessed their union. They are not touching anymore, not physically, and still they are almost as close as they were a second before. The feeling is both humbling and reassuring, as they separately but together come to the realization that they will never be alone again. It isn't long though before they feel the need to reach for each other.
* * * *
Lilia woke up with a jump from having dozed off in front of the television, and it took her a few seconds to get back her bearings. Her mind was still trapped in the dream, the memory, and she could have screamed in frustration at how much she was craving Jordan's touch. Her only consolation was that, if she were to believe the lustful scent descending from the mezzanine, she wasn't the only one who was hot and bothered. Was he reliving the events of the night, too?
Standing up from the comfortable sofa she had been lying on, she stretched on her way to the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the now so close steps that could lead her to Jordan. She washed her face with cold water to get rid of the last threads of the dream, and, maybe, chase away the irritating idea that it wouldn't take much to recreate it. She couldn't even understand how she had managed to fall asleep with her senses hyperaware at the danger of being in her enemy's lair. He could have staked her in her sleep and...
And he really wasn't going to do that, was he? He couldn't. Not if he wanted to live. Staking her would have been the same as staking himself, and he had said he wouldn't do it unless she gave him a good reason. Pretty cocky of him, that; he seemed to assume he would be able to stake her whenever he chose to.
Apparently, he failed to remember that he had never managed to do it so far, and there was no reason to think he would be able to now. Still, if he tried, she would fight back and who knew what would happen then. She might kill him without meaning to, and that wouldn't be any better than the reverse. She wasn't feeling particularly suicidal, so it might be a good idea to avoid that kind of confrontation as much as possible. If only she hadn't been so sure the only way to break the bond was death...
Unless...
Walking out of the bathroom, she looked up at the mezzanine. She couldn't see Jordan, but she could hear him quite clearly. His breathing, his heartbeat, both of them regular, both of them indicated sleep. He had warned her to leave him alone, and she had no doubt that he was armed. Even so, it wouldn't be too hard to sink her fangs into him again before he knew it, this time to drain him, and offer him her blood in return at the instant his heart failed him.
She could make him her minion; that would undoubtedly bring a smile to Nathanael's lips when she returned to the lair with a fledgling in tow, although to be Mated to a minion would be beneath her. A Childe, then. A little more blood from her and a lot more abilities on the other side of life for him. But she had never made a Childe before, and she had always thought that, when she would, it would be someone she wouldn't mind spending a century or two with. Jordan definitely did not fit that description.
She wouldn't turn him, she decided as she directed her steps to the cupboard where she had found his stash of alcohol while exploring his house earlier. Reaching blindly for the first bottle she could find, she returned to sit on the sofa and took her first mouthful. Not bad.
She wouldn't turn him, at least not right away. She would have to do something sooner or later though, there was no way she would let him die on the job or from whatever pesky diseases humans died from. But she couldn't bear the idea of siring him now and having to be with him—having to remember constantly what they had done when it was still so fresh in her mind. What it all meant was that many things were about to change for her. And not for the good.
If she went back to her clan's lair, her Sire would know what had happened within an hour; she had no delusions about hiding it. Nathanael had given her a simple mission, herd a newly turned vampire to his first meal and then to his new home, and she had not only failed to do that but also had failed to report before sunrise. He would have the skin of her back for that trespass. And when he did, he would notice the bite mark on her throat. Nathanael was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He would figure out what the mark meant, would find a way to make Lilia admit whom she was Mated to, and once he knew, the only question was whether he would stake Lilia right away to cripple Jordan or come up with one of his elaborate settings to make things more interesting for him, and more painful for Jordan.
Lilia wished she hadn't been so sure of her Sire's willingness to see her dust if it gave him a big enough advantage over an enemy he loathed—and Jordan certainly fit that description after years of being a thorn in Nathanael's side. She knew her Sire loved her, in his own fashion, as much as he could love anyone; he still called her his favorite Childe when he was in a good mood, even if they had long before ceased to share the same bed every day. But she also knew that whatever he felt for her would not stop his hand. And that was why she wouldn't be able to go back to him.
The alcohol burned her throat and she closed her eyes, thinking hard. If she simply left this house at nightfall, found a new lair and gave no explanation to her clan, how long would it be before Nathanael sent minions to find her and bring her back to him? Days, at the most. Leaving town wouldn't help; she had witnessed in the past how determined he could be when someone tried to get away from him before he was finished with them, and she had no doubt she fell under that particular category. He had spent years training her so that she could be the Master of her own clan one day; he wouldn't let her disappear so easily. It would have been simpler if she could have made him believe she was dead, but he was her Sire, and there was no way to fool him.
That left her once again with precious few choices.
After much brooding and scowling at the now empty bottle in her hands, she concluded that her safest bet was to hide in plain sight. If she worded the request right, Nathanael would certainly—probably, maybe—give her the distance she needed to be safe, at least long enough for her to catch her footing. What would happen once he got tired of waiting without results was an entirely different story, but until then, she would be out of harm's way. Provided that he accepted her lie. And since he would see right through her if she lied to his face...
"Petty theft, Lilia? Who would have thought?"
Lilia struggled not to look back up to the mezzanine; doing so would have allowed Vincent to see the surprise on her features, and she couldn't have him believe that she hadn't realized he was observing her—even if it was the truth.
"What can I say,” she shrugged, pocketing the pen. “I'm evil, after all."
He snickered. “Oh yes, stealing a ten cent pen is definitely high up there on your list of crimes, right next to murder."
"What a pain,” she murmured to herself, wishing she had already left, and was almost startled when he echoed her thoughts.
"Why don't you leave? The sun set ten minutes ago, I thought you would have been long gone by now."
Frowning, she glanced at the window, noticing for the first time that the frame of light around its heavy drapes had disappeared. She had been so lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even felt the sunset.
Sliding a mask of indifference over her features, she took the few steps that led her to the foot of the staircase and stopped. Vincent was at the top, looking down at her, and he frowned when she batted her eyelashes at him.
"And leave without a goodbye kiss, lover? How could I, after all we've shared?"
The shock on his face was simply delicious, as was the sudden surge of desire tinting his scent, and she laughed at him. His confusion only grew, soon turning into anger when he realized she was playing with him.
"Out, Lilia. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me. Far away."
She smirked at him and blew him a mocking kiss from the tip of her fingers before turning away, but as soon as she had stepped out of his home, the smirk disappeared as the reality of her situation crashed down on her. With a few moments of bewitched insanity, she had lost everything. And gained nothing in return but a scar that would never disappear and the promise of a premature death.