The Undead Heart (#1 in the Blood Thirst Series)

by Stephanie Jackson

  “Vampyres are immune to all human sickness, so their blood was of no danger to me. Then, I met a vampyre named Anton who showed me another way to survive. He showed me that I could live on the blood of animals. The taste was unpleasant at first, but the blood sustained me just as well as human blood. From then on, I have survived on animal blood, and it has served me well.”

  “So I’m not in any danger of you eating me?”

  “I never said that I wouldn’t eat you, only that I would never bite you,” he said, giving her a leering wink.

  She was pretty sure she could feel even her hair blush!

  “So, when do you need to feed next?” she asked, grasping for anything that would change the subject.

  “Not for a while. I fed before you left Clarksville. But you do need to eat.”

  “I’m alright,” she said.

  “Your stomach seems to disagree.”

  “How can you hear my stomach growling when I can’t? No, let me guess. You hear very well, right?”

  “Exactly. Now, where would you like to go eat?”

  “No need,” she said, reaching into the drawer of the nightstand and pulling out a box of blueberry pop-tarts. “Food of the gods,” she said after taking her first bite. “Do you miss eating?”

  “Believe it or not, it’s what I miss the most. In case you didn’t notice, I’m a big guy, and I was a big eater. It’s torture watching people eat while I am on an eternal liquid diet.”

  “I’m sorry. I can eat later,” she said, swallowing the food in her mouth and attempted to put the rest of the pop-tart back in the package.

  “Don’t be silly, Beck. I’ve been watching people eat for 167 years. I believe I can endure watching you eat a Pop-Tart.”

  “You can’t swallow food, right?”

  “No, I cannot. Vampyres can’t process any food or any liquids other than blood.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s just something that we know. Kind of like how humans know not to swallow glass or metal.”

  “Okay, so you can’t swallow food. Can you taste it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried. It smells good, though.”

  “Would it hurt to taste it as long as you didn’t swallow it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Wanna try?” she asked, holding the pop-tart out to him.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. He took the pop-tart, sniffed it, and took a small bite. His eyes got big as he chewed. “It’s wonderful!”

  “Good. Now spit it out,” she said, holding her hand under his mouth. She could tell he didn’t want to, but he was a good boy and spit the food into her hand.

  “I hope you’re happy with yourself, now I want to taste everything.”

  “Okay, let’s do it,” she said, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him towards the door.

  “No, Beck.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t run around the town spitting out chewed food. What would people think?”

  “Fuck what they think. We don’t even know the people here. I stopped giving a shit what people think about me a long time ago. This is the first time you have tasted food in 167 years, and I want you to do it with me.”

  “Alright, I’ll do it on two conditions. You have to spit out the food, too. That way people aren’t just staring at me.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that. What’s the second condition?”

  “You have to let me kiss you.”

  “What, now?” she asked in shock.

  “Yes, Beck, now. I have shown incredible restraint thus far, but I can’t stand waiting any longer.”

  “My experience with boys hasn’t been good,” she said nervously. She really did wanted him to kiss her, but she was terrified.

  “I am no boy, and I would never hurt you. Please, Beck.”

  She nodded her head, and it was all the invitation that he needed. He gently placed a hand on each side of her neck and pulled her face towards his. His breath smelled like pop-tarts and honey. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “Calm down, Little One. It’s only me,” he whispered against her lips. When his lips touched hers, it felt as if time had stopped and everything but them disappeared. She could feel her blood rushing through her veins. Some unknown time later, he pulled back and put his forehead to hers.

  “My Beck,” he whispered.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Now the food?” he asked.

  “Now the food,” she agreed, and they left the dorm to scour the city for treats.

  ***

  He was serious about wanting to taste everything. He chewed and spit out cheeseburgers, tacos, fried chicken, pizza, pancakes, barbeque ribs, hot dogs, chips, cookies, and soda. He tasted everything they passed. He’d been right about people staring at them, but they were having so much fun that they stopped noticing. She’d never seen anyone as happy as he was then. They tried the food at so many places that they didn’t get back to the dorm until after 10:00 that night.

  “That was the best day I’ve ever had,” he said, flopping down on the bed.

  “I’m glad you had fun. I’m going to grab a shower and wash the smell of food out of my hair.”

  She took a shower, put on her panties and a long sleep shirt, and stepped back into the room. She heard him gasp as she closed the bathroom door.

  “Beck, put some clothes on! I only have so much control!”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. She didn’t know what his problem was. Her tee-shirt hung to the middle of her thigh, everything was covered.

  “I haven’t seen you in 113 years, and you come out here practically naked. You’re killing me,” he growled.

  “I always sleep in this, and what do you mean by 113 years?”

  “Nothing. Forget it. I wish I could take a shower too, but I don’t have any more clothes with me.”

  She knew he was evading her question but decided to deal with it later.

  “I have some big boxer shorts that I lounge around in sometimes. They’ll fit you. The dorm laundry room is two doors down. I can start your clothes while you’re in the shower,” she said, digging the boxer shorts out of a drawer.

  “Sounds good,” he said, taking the shorts.

  She could hear the shower running when she returned from starting his laundry. She decided to pick a movie from her DVD collection for them to watch. She ended up picking The Whole Nine Yards. It was one of her favorite movies. She heard the shower turn off and waited fifteen minutes, but he didn’t come out.

  “Is everything alright?’ she asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

  “I can’t come out wearing this. It’s not descent, Beck,” he said through the door.

  “You said we used to be lovers, right? So what’s the big deal? Just come out here.”

  He slowly opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him in nothing but the boxer shorts. She’d never been attracted in this way to anyone before. Now she had to put her hands behind her back to keep from running them up his chest. It was crazy.

  “You didn’t put on anymore clothes,” he said accusingly.

  “I’m wearing more than you are,” she laughed, “I picked out a movie for us to watch. Do you like comedy?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Good,” she said, grabbing the remote and laying down on the bed. She pushed play on the remote and started the movie.

  “No way! This one of my favorite movies,” he said, lying down next to her on the bed.

  She just smiled about their shared taste in movies.

  “Richard? What’s your last name?”

  “Jaxon,” he answered.

  “How old were you when you were turned?”

  “I was six weeks shy of my thirtieth birthday when I was bitten.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said.

  “I’m not. Not anymore. If it had not happened, then I wou
ld have never found you,” he said, turning towards her on the bed. “You made my life worth living. The last 113 years without you have been torture. First, I had to wait for you to be born. Then I had to wait for you to grow up. Now, you’re eighteen years old and lying next to me. You may not realize it, but right now, I’m in Heaven.”

  This time he didn’t wait for permission, he just kissed her. The kiss was gentle at first, and then turned into a deep, more lust filled kiss. She felt his hand, still warm from the shower, slide up her hip. He slid his hand slowly up her side, under her shirt, and cupped her breast. She gasped in pleasure when his thumb brushed across her nipple. He jerked back at the same time the light bulb blew out.

  “Beck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. I just got carried away.”

  She suddenly understood that he had taken her gasp as fear.

  “I wasn’t afraid, Richard. It was really nice. Apparently too nice,” she said, frowning at the lamp. “Oh well, at least it wasn’t the T.V.”

  He’d jumped out of the bed when he thought she was scared. Looking at him now, standing there in nothing but the boxer shorts, she had to agree with him; he was no boy. Everything about him was all man.

  “You’re okay with me touching you?”

  “I think I’m more than okay with it. Now will you get back in the bed?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, with you, I’m sure.”

  He got back on the bed and reached for her. He kissed her again, and she felt as if she were floating above the mattress. He pulled her shirt over her head and kissed his way down her neck to her breast. He paused there to tease her nipple with his cool tongue. She couldn’t believe that this was happening, that she was lying in bed, with ‘The Man’ running his lips and tongue over her body.

  He kissed down her ribcage, over her hip, and down her thigh. Her breath was coming in small gasps. When he kissed back up her thigh and dipped his tongue between her legs, she could take no more.

  “Richard. Now,” she panted.

  “Are you sure?” he asked again.

  “Now,” she repeated.

  He didn’t ask again. He scooped his arm under her waist and brought her body up to meet his trust. He pulled her to him over and over as he pushed into her. Pleasure that she never knew existed crashed over her in waves. When it was over, he collapsed on top of her. She knew something was different about him, but it took her a second to realize what it was.

  “Richard, your heart is beating,” she said.

  “Huh?” he mumbled into her neck.

  “YOU’RE HEART IS BEATING!”

  He was standing up before she even knew he had moved.

  “This is not possible,” he said, holding his hand to his chest.

  “Possible or not, it is beating.”

  “It stopped,” he said dropping his hand. “That’s never happened before. Not in 167 years anyway.”

  She could feel that he was worried.

  “Most people freak out when their heart stops beating. Well, actually, I guess they just die, but you see my point. Is this a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this happening before.”

  “Do you think it’s dangerous?”

  “I don’t know,” he stated truthfully.

  “Maybe it’s us. Maybe my electrical problems are affecting you somehow. Maybe we shouldn’t be together if it’s going to hurt you.”

  “Don’t you know that I would rather die than be without you? We only have two days left to be together, and I won’t waste them by staying away from you. It’s not up for debate,” he told her firmly.

  Oh hell no! Who did he think he was talking to?

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I am a grown ass woman, and I will not be talked to like a fucking child! I live by my own rules, not yours. We just had sex! It’s not like you’re my husband! Do you understand me?!” she yelled.

  “Yes, by damn, I am your husband! Do you understand me?” he yelled back.

  Her mouth fell open, but no words came out. She had been struck speechless. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. It startled the shit out of her, making her jump a foot off the bed. When she opened the door, she found a little wisp of a girl standing there.

  “I’m sorry to bother you but could you turn your T.V. down? I live across the hall, and it just woke me up,” the girl said timidly.

  “I was just about to turn it off anyway. I’m so sorry that I woke you up,” she said.

  “That’s alright. I’m Maggie by the way. I hope that we can be friends,” Maggie said, and yawned.

  “I’m sure we will be. Goodnight.”

  “Night,” Maggie said, already closing her door.

  She closed the door and turned back to Richard. He’d moved to the left so that Maggie wouldn’t see him.

  “It’s nice that you’ve already made a friend.”

  “Don’t you even try to change the subject,” she snapped. “What the hell did you say to me?”

  “I’m your husband, Beck. At least I was a long time ago, or will be in a few years from now, depending on how you look at it.”

  “You told me that your wife died,” she said. He looked down at the floor and nodded his head.

  “So you’re telling me that, somehow, I travel into the past, marry you, and fucking die!” she yelled.

  “If you don’t stop shouting someone is going to call campus security.”

  “So what?” she snarled. “If they show up, you can squeeze them and we can stack them in the closet until you get hungry.”

  “That wasn’t nice,” he said, feigning hurt.

  “Neither was not bothering to tell me that we’re married.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Just show up yesterday and say ‘Hi, Beck. You don’t know me, but I’m your husband’?”

  “Why the hell not? You had no problem showing up and telling me that you were a vampyre.”

  “Well, I thought with your abilities that that piece of knowledge would be easier for you to handle. I was going to tell you.”

  “When? Right before you left?” she asked. She held up her hand to stop him before he could answer. “Did we fight a lot when we were married?”

  She was angry, but she knew he was telling the truth about being her husband.

  “Yes, but it usually ended with us making love, so I really didn’t mind,” he smiled.

  “Well, it ain’t ending that way tonight, buddy,” she informed him. “I’m going to bed. When I wake up, you are going to tell me everything, and I mean everything. No more of this ‘I’ll tell you later’ bullshit. Then, we’re going to the library to see what we can find out about your heart. Goodnight,” she said, turning off the one light that was still working.

  ***

  The darkness of the room didn’t bother him. He sat next to the bed and watched her sleep. Telling her that she was his wife had not gone as smoothly as he had hoped. At least she believed him and hadn’t thrown him out. He’d waited 113 years to be with her again and didn’t think he could have left her even if she had told him to. She had been right to want to know everything. He just didn’t know how to explain it to her. It had been unfair that they had had so little time together in the past.

  She had come into his life on August 27, 1888, and had died November 12, 1888. He’d been there when Elderson had killed her and had been unable to stop it. Elderson had pulled her up into a tree and snapped her neck. She’d died instantly. He had not even gotten to bury her body. Her body had simply vanished before it had hit the ground. Elderson had not seen her body disappear, he’d already been fleeing when that happened.

  He’d given chase, but had lost what little scent Elderson had that night when he reached the river. He’d run back to where her body should have fallen but knew he would find nothing. There was no body, but he’d held no fantasy that she had survived. Elderson had twisted her head nearly all the way around. He’d heard her neck break and her heart st
op beating. She had died, but the cruelest part was that he had lived.

  He had not wanted to live without Beck. He’d wanted to turn himself over to the hunters and let them tear his head off, but his family wouldn’t allow it. When Beck died, it’d seemed as if the air had been sucked from his world. The color had drained from everything, and he had not understood how people had gone on with their daily lives when Beck was gone from the world.

  What was the point of the sun rising everyday when there had been no Beck for it to shine on? It had taken his family a long time, but they had finally convinced him that since Beck was from the future, that she would be born again. That if he could just wait, he could be with her again.

  “What’s a hundred years or so to you?” they’d asked.

  Having lived through those years without her, he could now answer that question.

  “An eternity,” he mumbled into the darkness as he crawled onto the bed to lay down beside her.

  It had felt like an eternity to him.

  Elderson had wanted him to trade his family for Beck’s life, and for years afterward he had wished he had agreed, but all he’d been able to do was wait for her.

  On July 18, 1983, she had been born at Clarksville Memorial Hospital on Madison Street. Rebecca Emily Stockdale had been born at 2:03 on a Monday afternoon. She had weighed 6 lbs. 10 oz. and had been 18 ½ inches long. She had great big eyes and had been as bald as an egg. He knew all of this because he had been there in the hospital when she was born.

  He hadn’t been able to stay away. He’d had to see for himself that she’d indeed been born. He’d seen her through the nursery glass and his relief had nearly brought him to his knees. She hadn’t looked like his Beck yet; no red hair, eyes still baby blue, but he could smell her. He could pick her scent up from anywhere inside the hospital. He’d noticed in his years as a vampyre that children tended to smell similar to their parents. Not Beck, though. Her scent was hers and hers alone. Had he not been there for her birth; he would have assumed that she was adopted.