by Kristi Cook
He was probably right, but I didn’t really want to think about it too much, to examine it further. Not right now, at least. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy being there with him, sharing his secrets—even if those secrets did include some woman named Isabel.
“Was she very beautiful?” I asked, unable to curb my curiosity.
“Who?”
“What do you mean, who?” I asked. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
For a while he said nothing. His face was in profile, turned toward the sky, and I could see pinpoints of light reflected in his eyes—stars, streetlights. I held my breath, waiting.
“I suppose she was,” he said at last.
Of course she was. I just nodded, wishing I hadn’t asked. What did it matter, anyway? She’d been dead for more than a century. Still, I was jealous. So jealous that I could taste it—a bitter, ugly taste in my mouth.
“Look, a falling star,” he said, pointing to the inky canvas above. “Quick, make a wish.”
So I did. Please let Aidan find his cure. I repeated it over and over silently in my mind. He had to figure it out. Otherwise, there was no hope for him, for us.
“It’s late, Violet,” he said, pushing off the door and moving to stand beside me. “You really should go to bed.”
“Are you”—I swallowed hard—“are you going to bed too?” No one had mentioned the sleeping arrangements.
He nodded, reaching for my hand. “Trevors has made up the rose room for you. I’ll just be next door.”
Inexplicably disappointed, I pushed aside the blanket and rose from the chaise.
“Does that frighten you?” he asked, his brows drawn. “Having me next door?”
“I’m not afraid, Aidan.” Well, maybe I was . . . a little. But not of him. No, I was more afraid of this unfamiliar, overwhelming desire I felt—this crazy rush of emotions, the way my skin flushed hotly when he looked at me. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and press my body tightly against his. I wanted to tempt him, to make him want me as badly as I wanted him, vampire or not. But apparently he was putting me in the “rose room,” so my virtue was safe. Unlike Isabel’s, all those years ago. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop picturing him in some opera dancer’s bed. What was an opera dancer, anyway?
Wordlessly I followed him back downstairs to the second floor and into a pretty, feminine room decorated with pale pink rosebuds and cream-colored lace. “Your bag’s right over there,” Aidan said, motioning toward my suddenly ratty-looking overnight bag. “And Trevors has filled a water pitcher for you there on the commode.”
Commode? He was pointing to what looked like a night-stand to me.
“Thanks, Your Highness,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. He suddenly seemed so serious, so uncomfortable. “Or would it be Sir Aidan? What do they call viscounts in merry old England, anyway?”
His eyes met mine, the connection so strong that for a second there, I could barely breathe. “Lord Brompton, at your service,” he said with a mock bow. And then he looked away, that troubled expression back again. “You’ve your own bathroom, right over there.” He indicated a door behind me, half ajar. “And my room’s just through here,” he said, pointing to a door on the opposite side of the room. “If you should need me.”
I did need him, and not on the other side of the door. I wanted him there, next to me. It’s not like I wanted to . . . well, you know. I wasn’t even sure that he could, being what he was. But still, I wanted him close by. Touching me. Holding me.
Summoning all the courage I could muster, I spoke the words in my head that I was too embarrassed to say aloud. Please stay with me tonight.
“Probably not such a good idea, Vi,” he said aloud, his voice a hoarse whisper.
I tried to hide my disappointment, but it was no use. My cheeks were burning, and I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“It’s . . . I have my reasons. Trust me.”
I shook my head, annoyed. I mean, he’d already told me the worst of it. Why keep things from me now?
“It’s just . . . my God, Violet, I’ve been alive, what? A hundred and thirty years now? Trapped forever inside this boy’s body, with a boy’s raging hormones and a vampire’s desires. I can’t . . .”
He trailed off, and I saw him swallow hard. When he spoke again, his voice was more controlled. “It’s so much easier at school, where I can send you off to your dorm room. But here in my house, alone . . . I had no idea it would be so difficult. I thought I would be more . . . mature.”
I almost laughed at that, but somehow managed to squelch it. It was just so . . . crazy. “So you’re saying, what? That you might be tempted to ravish me? Or bite me?”
He sighed, looking defeated. “I’m just saying that it’s late, and that you’re swaying on your feet you’re so tired.”
He was right—I could barely keep my eyes open. Still, I’d never felt so rejected in all my life.
“Sleep tight, Vi,” he said, reaching for the door that led to his room.
“Yeah, you too,” I muttered.
Fifteen minutes later my teeth were brushed, and I’d changed into my pajamas and collapsed onto the huge four-poster bed. The goose-down pillows were fluffed, the satiny sheets pulled up to my chin. The house was quiet, and I could hear Aidan pacing back and forth in his own room. Guess he couldn’t sleep either. I sighed, snuggling lower beneath the covers, trying not to think about Isabel, trying not to picture him kissing her, touching her.
And then my vision began to tunnel. My stomach pitched; bile rose in my throat. Everything went dark.
There was a bed, one I had never seen before. It looked old-fashioned, like an antique. I couldn’t place the room, didn’t recognize my surroundings. My gaze shifted back to the bed, and I saw two people there, their bodies pressed close together. I heard a moan; could have sworn it was my own. And then I recognized myself on the bed, lying beneath someone, my skin pale as moonlight washed over me. “So beautiful,” someone murmured, the voice familiar. Aidan’s voice. And then it was as if I were seeing him from the vantage point of the bed, looking up into his face, his eyes red-rimmed and his jaw clenched as he stared down at me with pure, raw lust in his eyes.
I gasped loudly as the vision swam and disappeared. Blinking hard, I sat up, trying to catch my breath. Whoa. One minute I’d been trying to picture him in bed with his little opera dancer, and the next I was seeing something that looked like us in bed together instead. Doing . . . well, it was pretty obvious what we were doing. Or what we were about to do.
Thank God he couldn’t see my visions—and since I hadn’t felt any fear or called out his name while experiencing this one, he wouldn’t even know I’d had it. I decided to test it, just to make sure.
Aidan? I called out telepathically.
There was the familiar tickling sensation in my brain. Yeah, Vi?
Nothing. Just . . . just seeing if you were asleep yet.
Not yet. You still mad at me?
Who said I was mad? Just because you didn’t make Isabel sleep alone—
Goodnight, Violet, came his exasperated reply, cutting me off, and the connection was closed.
I had only been teasing him, especially now that I was armed with the knowledge that at some point in time I’d get my way. Problem was, my visions were usually warnings. Only this one hadn’t seemed like a warning—in fact, it had seemed awfully pleasant.
I prodded my memory, trying to remember every detail. The bed. The moonlight. His eyes rimmed in red. A shiver raced down my spine. Just like they’d been in the chem lab on Halloween, when he’d been out of control and freaking out about the blood.
Uh-oh. Maybe I’d been mistaken; maybe the lust I’d seen in his eyes hadn’t been desire, but bloodlust. Well, that certainly changed things, I realized. At least it should.
Only problem was, I was pretty sure it didn’t. With a groan, I fell back onto the pillows and pulled the covers up over my head.
It was going to be a long night.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked, perched beside Aidan on the sofa. A fire crackled in the hearth, and I turned my face toward its warmth.
“Yeah,” Aidan answered absently, trailing his cold fingers down my shoulder. “A little. I heard you in there, tossing and turning.”
“I just don’t get it,” I said, trying not to think about the vision that had kept me awake half the night. “Legend has it that vampires sleep during the day.”
He nodded. “Vampires are essentially nocturnal creatures. Our senses are stronger, sharper at night. Staying up during daylight hours and sleeping at night is against our nature, but it’s not impossible. Probably why I look so tired most of the time.”
“What about eating? You know, food,” I clarified, trying not to shudder as I thought about the alternative.
“Sure, I eat. Blood is our primary source of sustenance, but food is just”—he shrugged—“extra. Kind of like dessert is for you. You don’t need to eat cake or pie to stay alive, but you eat it anyway, because you like it. I’m told the more ancient ones usually lose their taste for food and drink, but I’m still young, as far as vampires go.”
“Hmmm, interesting. What about stuff like garlic and crucifixes?” As soon as I said it, I remembered Lupe’s gift. The crucifix necklace. I’d been wearing it when I’d left school, and now—I reached up and felt my neck. It was gone.
“It’s in your bag, Vi. It broke and fell off in the alley. Just needs a new clasp. Anyway, I’m fine with crosses and garlic. The chapel, remember?”
A log in the fire spit, sending up a spray of red-hot ash. I shivered and realized I was cold despite the fire.
“Want me to move over?” Aidan asked. “I can’t help it; my body temperature’s a little lower than yours.”
“No,” I said, scooting closer to him, wanting to prove to him that it didn’t bother me. It didn’t—not really. Kind of reminded me of Gran, who was always cold and complaining about poor circulation. “Now, let’s see, what else? You said the elixir makes you able to withstand the sun. What if you found yourself without the elixir? At school, I mean? Then what?”
“I have special quarters at school, in the underground tunnels. It’s really just a study with a daybed. My lair,” he said, raising his brows menacingly. “Just in case. But the sunlight won’t kill me—it won’t burn me to a crisp or anything like that. At least, not for a while. Just makes me weak and vulnerable, that’s all, especially if I haven’t fed in a while.”
“So why don’t you take the elixir every day? To make sure the effects don’t ever wear off?”
“The most I can take is a dose every two weeks,” he answered, shaking his head. “I have to allow the effects to completely wear off before I can take more. Trust me, I’ve tried to take it more frequently, and let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.”
I digested that in silence. “So what about the vampire who . . . you know, did this to you? Do you think it was Dr. Blackwell?”
Aidan shook his head. “No, he didn’t turn me. That’s impossible.”
“How so? I mean, how many vampires are running around at any given time?”
“Far more than you realize,” he said. “But only a female vampire can make a male, and vice versa.”
“Really? I’ve never heard that one before. How . . . weird.” And sort of unsettling, too, though I didn’t quite know why. “So a female turned you, but you have no idea who, or why?”
“Pretty much,” he muttered.
“So, how do they do it, then? I mean, I don’t quite understand the mechanics of it.”
“Do I really have to tell you every unpleasant detail?” he asked with a groan. “It’s all so . . . ugly.”
I wasn’t buying that. Not entirely. I mean, I’d already seen his fangs, seen him nearly rip out someone’s throat. What could be uglier than that? And yet I still found him beautiful, my Aidan.
“Is it somehow . . . sexual?” I pressed, swallowing hard. “You know, since a man can only do it to a woman and, like you said, vice versa?”
“Well, that would imply that all vampires are heterosexual, wouldn’t it?” he said, and I was relieved to see a hint of a smile back on his lips. “I guess you could say it’s somehow sexual, more so from the vampire’s perspective. Though I’m told that some mortals find it enjoyable too.”
Now my curiosity was piqued. “Okay, it’s not fair to tease me with something like that. Can’t you elaborate just a tiny bit?”
For a moment he said nothing. I figured he was going to refuse to answer. The look on his face reminded me of Patsy’s when she was forced to give me the sex talk years ago—that deer-in-the-headlights look.
“One of the more unpleasant side effects is that a vampire can’t achieve . . . er . . . sexual release without simultaneous penetration of the fangs,” he said at last, obviously choosing his words carefully.
Simultaneous penetration? It took a moment for that to sink in. “On . . . on the neck?” I stammered.
“It can be on the neck. Or . . . anywhere, really.”
I could only stare wide-eyed at him, unable to believe what he was saying. Finally I found my voice. “So you have to be biting someone while you’re . . .” I trailed off, unable to complete the bizarre thought, much less say it.
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
“You have got to be kidding me” was all I could manage in reply.
He shook his head. “I wish I was.”
“That’s . . . I mean, in all the legends, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one. It’s just so weird.” Still, I was overcome with the desire to know more. “You wouldn’t even be able to—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I just wouldn’t be able to fully . . . enjoy it.” He was blushing, I realized. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense, considering he was the experienced one, not me.
“Anyway,” he continued, averting his eyes, “you can see how that complicates things with mortals.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I nodded, feeling a little dazed by this revelation. Especially in light of the vision I’d just had. Time to change the subject. “Okay, you said it was sort of like an infection. Like a sexually transmitted disease, then?”
“No, it’s much more complicated than that. It’s an actual exchange of mitochondria, and then the infected mitochondria attack the host’s cells. Almost like a parasite. The change occurs at the cellular level, though. Have you ever heard of adenosine triphosphate, ATP? Cellular energy?”
I shook my head, noticing that the science talk seemed to perk him right back up.
“Well,” he continued, “in the case of vampirism, infected proteins synthesized in the cytoplasm are targeted to the mitochondrial surface by an N-terminal signal sequence. Then they’re transported into the organelle by a large enzyme complex embedded in the mitochondrial membrane, and—”
“Hold on, science boy.” I held up one hand. “You might as well be speaking Swahili.”
He shook his head. “Just consider it a blood-borne disease very much like malaria. And, like malaria, ultimately treatable and possibly curable.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Pretty sure. Like I said, with the elixir I can temporarily suppress some of the effects. It’s only a matter of time before I figure out how to reverse the process entirely.”
“Say you do reverse it,” I said, my brain spinning. “What then? Do you just become mortal again? I mean, would you just go back to being a healthy seventeen-year-old?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible that the mitochondria will be fully repaired to their original state. Beyond that, I can’t say.”
“So it’s possible that, in curing yourself, you might”—I swallowed hard, barely able to say the words—“you might kill yourself?”
“Possible, yes. But I think the body will simply pick up where it left off. That’s my hope, at least. Either way, it’s better than this.”
>
I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the look of despair I saw in his eyes. “Please don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry, Violet, but I won’t lie to you. Given the choice of an eternity damned to this fate of mine, or death—well, I’ll take a mortal’s death any day. Have you any idea just how long an eternity is?”
I buried my face in his neck. A shiver ran down my spine as he kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry that you’ve suffered,” I said, my voice muffled against his skin. I couldn’t help but open my mouth ever so slightly, pressing the inside of my lower lip against the spot where his pulse leapt. “But I’m not sorry that it happened to you. Otherwise you’d have died a long time ago, and I never would have met you.”
“Agreed on that point,” he answered, his voice strangely tight.
“Do we really have to go back to school tomorrow?”
“We do. I’ve work to do in the lab, re-creating everything that was destroyed. I’m afraid you won’t see much of me in the days to come. At least now you’ll know why.”
“I wish we could stay here forever. By the fire.” Despite the faint chill in my bones, I’d never been more comfortable. In fact, the entire day had been pretty much perfect, even though we’d done nothing but lounge around and talk.
“Do you want to go out tonight? After dinner, I mean. I think Trevors is probably outdoing himself in the kitchen right now.”
“He cooks, too?” I sat up quickly, wondering if he was joking.
“Oh, he cooks, all right. Loves the opportunity to show off. I asked him to prepare a meal fit for a queen, and I just bet he will.”
“Is Trevors . . . you know,” I said with a shrug. “Like you?”
“Yeah, he is. But you’ve got nothing to fear from him. He owes me a life debt, and he would never lay a hand on someone under my protection.”
“So he’s your servant for . . . for life? For eternity?” I wondered what Aidan had done for Trevors to earn that kind of loyalty. Must have been something big.
“Our arrangement works well for us both” was all he said in explanation. “Anyway, we could go out after dinner, if you’d like.”