by Jen Holling
Deidra put her hand on Dukes head and tried to soothe him. Stephen frowned at the dog in wounded confusion.
Well, he remembered his dog.
His gaze rose from the dog to meet Deidra's eyes. His own were accusatory, as if she had had something to do with Duke's defection. Then he turned and followed Drake into the keep, where they all went to their respective chambers.
Deidra was so very tired and dejected that she longed for the obliviousness of sleep, but when she closed her eyes, her sleep was troubled with vivid dreams of Stephen kissing her, his lips warm and hungry. Her heart swelled with bittersweet joy that she was in his arms again and he touched her and loved her; that he was not lost to her.. .and yet some part of her understood that this was fleeting, not real.
Still, she took it, grasped the moment with both hands, wrapping her arms around him. He pushed her backward, onto the bed, his hands sliding up her thighs, raising her shift as his body pressed between her legs. Yes, oh yes. Her body ached and throbbed for him. She wanted him deep inside her, to give her surcease. She wrapped her thighs around him and moved against him, waiting for him to penetrate her, to end this wanting, but he didn't.
He kissed her deeply, his hips thrusting into hers, driving the ache deeper until she moaned from it, but it did not satisfy, it only made it worse, made her frenzied. His mouth moved over her chin, to suck on her neck, and then she felt it, the sharp piercing of his teeth, sinking deep.
But rather than hurt, it sent her over the edge. She cried out. Her body shuddered and convulsed as his teeth sank in deeper. Waves of ecstasy flowed over her as he sucked, and as he did, he finally pushed inside her, and she screamed.
She woke with a start, body still throbbing with unfulfilled desire. She lay staring at the ceiling, her hand clamped to her throat. Her hair was damp, her breathing labored. She had never had such a dream before. Was that what it meant to be with a blood witch? Pleasure and pain? She rolled onto her side and curled her legs up, willing the gnawing deep in her belly to subside. She still wanted him. But she didn't think he wanted her anymore. He had the beautiful Hannah, and they were exactly alike.
Eventually Deidra's racing heart slowed and her breathing evened out. The calm brought clarity of thought, but no answers to her dilemma. The longer she lay there, the worse she felt. She loved Stephen Ross no matter what he was. It was the who he’d become that troubled her. She didn't even know if this was the same man.
Though it wasn't yet morning, she rose from the bed and dressed. Duke stood, tail wagging happily. He had officially defected, refusing to go near Stephen and sticking to her side like a leech.
She led the dog through the castle and out into the small garden behind the kitchens. The squat stone well stood in the center of the herb and vegetable garden. She dropped the bucket over the side and hauled up water. Duke nosed around in the bushes but came running when she signaled water to him in her mind. She leaned against the stone well, staring up at the stars, while the dog drank. As soon as he had his fill, he raced away again. The mild scent of garlic and onion filled the air, making her stomach rumble.
She had been standing there for several minutes, her body still humming from the residual sensations and emotions the dream had left behind, when she suddenly realized that she was not alone in the garden.
She turned abruptly.
And saw nothing. She searched the grays and blacks of the garden. If someone was there, they could easily hide in the darkness beside the castle walls. She felt exposed. She started back toward the door that led back into the castle, calling out to Duke in her mind. She was even more disturbed when Dukes response was an unequivocal refusal to return to the garden.
Stephen was here.
Deidra swallowed, excited and fearful. She wanted to see him, to speak with him alone. But she couldn't seem to get the memory of his attack out of her head.
She turned in a slow circle, scanning the shadows around her. "Stephen?" she said, cursing the tremor in her voice. "I know you're here."
She waited, heart pounding so loudly that she was sure he could hear it. Her gaze jerked from left to right. Panic built in her throat. She felt as if she were being stalked. She was about to call out again when the darkness near the corner shifted. Her heart jumped as a figure moved forward, into the moonlight.
"How did you know?" he asked. "Did the animals tell you?"
Her breathing relaxed the slightest bit. He sounded calm, thoughtful. Unthreatening.
“Aye. Duke. He won't come back so long as you're here."
Stephen came no closer. He was still a shadow... a tall, broad-shouldered shadow, so reminiscent of the dream-Stephen that Deidra's cheeks flamed.
"I've noticed!”' he said, "that Duke is not the only one who shies away from me."
Deidra swallowed and raised her chin. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He took a step forward, and against her will, Deidra took a step back.
"No, of course you don't." His voice was derisive, bitter.
Her jaw clenched. "What do you expect, when you are so different now?"
He took another step forward, and this time she held her ground.
“Am I? How do you know? What has changed about me?" He kept coming forward, slowly and inexorably.
She fought the urge to back up. Her heart raced again, excitement and fear making a heady combination, and her mind muddled with it. She wanted him closer and yet didn't know if he was still the man she wanted.
"Because I can walk without a limp?"
"Don't be absurd," she said, appalled that the tremor in her voice had turned to a shake.
His voice lowered. "You are afraid of me." He sounded wounded. "No, I'm not."
"You are a bad liar; besides, it is foolish to try. I can hear your heart beating faster and faster the closer I come. I can smell that you are afraid."
Deidra's hand rose to her chest. Her heart pounded against her ribs so fiercely that she felt it through to her fingers.
"Very well. I am afraid. You are different...and you attacked me."
He stopped an arms length away from her, and she could see his face. It was the same face she had grown to love, mysterious in the darkness. His eyes were shadowed and unreadable, his mouth a sober line. But the lines pain had wrought beside his mouth and between his brows were gone. He looked ten years younger in the darkness.
"I wasn't myself then, but I am now."
A creeping moved up the back of her neck and her shoulders rose. "Who were you then?"
He closed the distance between them. He touched her cheek. Her lashes drifted shut as her heart dipped, but she immediately opened them, too hypervigilant to let her guard down.
He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, his gaze following the movement of his hand. "I will not lie to you, Deidra, there is something else sharing this body with me now." He met her gaze. "But I am still here, and I would never hurt you."
Deidra heard what was not said. He might not hurt her, but he couldn't vouch for whatever shared his body. He searched her face, taking in her wide eyes and tremulous mouth.
He dropped his hand and turned away. "I don't remember much about waking now. I don't know why I did it. I was hungry and I needed the blood...there wasn't much thought past that."
Deidra folded her arms across her body, gripping her elbows. "Is that what happens every time you grow hungry?"
Back still to her, his shoulders hunched. "No!" He let out a frustrated breath. "I know not. I have not needed to...feed"—he said the word as if it were dirty—"since that night. Hannah said I would need to...feed about once a month."
"What do you do the rest of the time?" He turned back toward her, but his expression was obscured by the darkness. "I cannot taste anything. Liquid sometimes quenches my thirst, but it has little taste."
"Is everything that way?"
"What way?"
"Tasteless. Unsatisfying."
He smil
ed. Her heart fluttered and she nearly smiled back.
"Oh, no." He closed the distance between them and touched her face again, cupping it as he gazed down at her, as if she were something precious and amazing. "Your skin.. .feels.. .unbelievable. So soft, so fragrant...I can feel and smell and see things that I never could before. This dark is nothing to me. I see you clearly. And I am not just whole...I am better than whole."
She was so caught up in his words, in his touch. This time, when her eyes drifted shut, she left them that way. She wanted this to be real, for this man who stood before her, touching her, to be the same man she’d fallen in love with. It was too good to be true. There must be some consequence to this defiance of God. He had been dead. And now he stood here, touching her.
But at the moment she didn't care. She had Stephen and she was happy.
His body moved up against hers, his other hand circling her waist. "Has so much changed?" he asked softly, his breath fanning across her face.
His lips touched hers. They were cooler than she remembered but not corpse-cold, as she had expected. She sank into the kiss, her lips warming his so that there was no difference. Memories of her dream rose unbidden and sent heat down to her toes.
He kissed her cheek and pressed his mouth to her ear. "I did not choose this, Deidra. I knew it would not make you happy. But now that it’s happened, I am not sorry."
She wasn't either, not now, not with his mouth pulling at her earlobe so that she thought she might melt into a heap at his feet if not for his hands supporting her.
She could not be sorry when his tongue traced her jaw and licked at her neck. She could think of nothing but her own pleasure that he was alive and here with her, wanting her still.
In her mind Duke whined. He wanted to return but was afraid because of Stephen. This single thought shot through her like an arrow and she jerked, her chin bumping Stephen’s head.
He bit her.
It burned across her throat like a thorn. Deidra let out a little shriek and shoved him. He held her fast, as if she weighed nothing and her strength was nothing, but he lifted his head to look down at her.
He frowned at her, confusion and alarm in his eyes. "Deidra, peace."
Her gaze moved to his mouth. Blood stained his lip, sending fear spiraling through to her belly,
"Let me go!" She struggled, her heart beating wildly, as if a bird were caught in her chest and it’s wings flapped frantically against her ribs. "Help!"
His hand clamped hard over her mouth. Panic shot through her. He was going to bite her in the neck and suck all of her blood out. She screamed so hard behind his hand that she went limp with the effort. Animals raced into the garden. A chicken and a goat, but they did not know what to do. Duke barked excitedly, wanting to help Deidra but deeply afraid of the Stephen-thing.
"God’s blood, Deidra! Stop your damned screaming."
The blood was gone from his mouth. He seemed normal again, but she couldn't be sure of anything. She nodded shakily to indicate she wouldn't scream. He removed his hand. His arms loosened around her. She touched her neck, then looked at the blood smeared across her fingertips.
Stephen leaned back, brows furrowed, to see her neck. His head jerked up, gaze meeting hers. "You don't think...?"
But he saw that she did.
His arms dropped away and he stepped back. "Its but a scratch, damn it." He bared his teeth, showing razor-sharp incisors. Tm not yet used to these things, but I would not bite you. I would never hurt you." His voice was full of wounded anger, his mouth hard, jaw rigid.
Deidra worried her bottom lip, confused, frightened. She wanted to believe him, but she didn't know how much she deluded herself. Did it just look like Stephen? He saw her indecision, her hesitance to reassure him.
"Never," he repeated firmly. He exhaled loudly and shook his head. He seemed as if he wanted to say more, but finally he turned and left the garden.
Deidra didn't move. The darkness had lessened as morning eased away the night. Duke nuzzled at her hand. Deidra touched her neck again, tracing her finger along the tiny raw line on her neck. A scratch, not a puncture, and it had already clotted and scabbed over.
The garden was cold and empty except for herself and some animals. And that, she feared, was how it would always be. Deidra and the animals.
She had never felt more alone.
They all reconvened in the hall after the sun rose. Stephen was finding it difficult to assimilate to this life. In some instances it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. He was stronger, faster, pain free. He could see better, smell better, hear better. He even sensed the presence of other living things in a way he never had before. And yet...
He couldn't sleep at night. It was impossible. Something about the moon energized him. This might not have been a problem, except everyone he wanted to talk to was asleep. And as day wore on, it became increasingly difficult for him to keep his eyes open. He was not as alert, he was not as strong. During the day all of his amazing new talents were gone. Though his back did not pain him, he still felt less than an ordinary man because he was so tired.
But he was pain-free. That was something.
He sat at the table across from Hannah. She stared at him, her face expressionless. She was an enigma. He had been afraid that she would try to enforce the deal she had initially set forward, that he would be some kind of companion-slave to her. And she was entirely capable of it—that was the frightening part. She had somehow immobilized him back in the forest after He’d awoken and controlled his will, even entering his thoughts. He suspected she could do it again if she wished.
He met her eyes, then looked away as if bored. He wanted to make sure he remained undesirable to her. Of course, in his experience, perhaps he should state his feelings and kiss her, since that seemed to have the opposite effect on the woman he did want.
But Deidra was here, too, picking at her food, as she had begun to do of late. Already a small woman, she was growing thinner. It did not please him. She wasn't eating due to her distress, and he was the source of her distress. Though he watched her, she did not look up.
Drake was the last to the table, and he pulled out the bench beside Stephen and commenced eating.
The table was set with bread and cheese and porridge. Drake was the only one to partake, and he ate with gusto. Stephen looked at the fare longingly, but Hannah had already warned him that eating was pointless. He had not yet tested this theory because he simply didn't feel hungry. It was a bizarre feeling, as his body had been ruled by hunger for so many years.
Drake finished his bowl of porridge and had another. Everyone waited for him to finish. Silence reined except for the sounds Drake made while eating. Hannah watched Drake now, her gaze thoughtful, but he didn't so much as glance at the woman.
When finally Drake pushed the empty bowl away and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, he said, "So. What are we to do with Luthias Forsyth?"
Hannah arched a thin, elegant brow. "Dinner? Though I suppose his blood is bitter, old and thin as he is."
Drake glowered at her. "I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but we were a bit outnumbered. The entire town was there as witness. We need to get Luthias alone or with as few of his mercenaries as possible."
"First we have to find him," Stephen said.
"I sent men after him. They should be reporting back to me very soon as to his direction."
Deidra looked up finally. "So many people have seen us. I don't see how he can just die now without suspicion falling on us." She shook her head. "It's too dangerous. I think I should leave the country."
Stephen clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose. She didn't want to leave because of Luthias. She wanted to leave because of Stephen. Because she was afraid he would attack and kill her in a weak moment.
Drake frowned at his niece. "That seems a little excessive, do ye not think? Your folks would certainly be furious to hear you've up and left the country.
"
Deidra met his eyes, her face rigid with anger. "It's better than them hearing that I am dead. He will never stop. We cannot kill him without hurting ourselves. The only answer is for me to leave."
"There has to be another way!”' Drake said, his brow furrowed deeply.
Stephen had an idea, he just didn't know if anyone would think it was a good one. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. "I died."
They all looked at him, waiting, though Hannah had a sly smile toying with the edges of her mouth.
“And yet, I am not dead."
"You think we should turn him into a baobhan sith?" Deidra asked incredulously.
"How is this punishment? You are stronger than ever."
"Because he will be a witch" Drake answered before Stephen could say a word. He sat forward, eyes intense. "He will become everything he loathes. He will be hunted. He will know what it feels like to be the thing he devoted his life to terrorizing."
“And who will do this for you?" Hannah asked, one red brow arched.
Drake met her gaze, and Stephen could have sworn he saw Drake’s jaw lock beneath his beard.
She showed no expression. "I am here because you compelled me to be. But I am not your friend or ally, and certainly not your tool."
Drake’s eyes darkened, and his mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. "Stephen will do it,"
Stephen’s brows shot up, but he didn't deny it. It was his idea, after all.
Hannah leaned forward, toward Stephen. “Are you ready for that, Stephen? To take a life, to bite through skin and muscle, to drink the warm blood until the body is an empty shell?"
Stephen wanted to be disgusted by her words, but he wasn't. Instead his stomach made a rumbling sound.
Deidra stood abruptly, her face pale, as if she might vomit, and left the table.
Hannah watched her go and smiled, satisfied. "Squeamish, isn't she?"
Drake pinned her with his hard stare for a long moment before he stood and left, too.
Stephen wasn't too pleased with Hannah either. What was she trying to prove? She had made it clear for all what he was. An animal. She had reminded Deidra, yet again, of how he'd attacked her. He wished he could remember it. He had only fleeting memories of waking as a baobhan sith. There had been the sensation of spiraling up ward... no, being dragged upward through mud, fighting for each breath, and when he'd finally emerged everything had hurt. It had hurt to breath, it had hurt to see, and it had even hurt to speak. He hadn't been aware of anything when he'd woken. He'd had no memories of anything except Hannah. She'd been the only thing he'd been aware of. Her mind had been in his, talking to him, telling him that he must be calm, that he must be careful, that he must wait.