by Lisa Olsen
Bishop let out a long breath. “No, I don’t think I can do a better job just because I’m a guy.”
“Then why are you being such a pain in my… ankle? Do you think you can out-stubborn me? Because let me tell you, mister…”
“No, I’m just distracting you until Rob has a chance to get up there on his own,” he grinned, letting go of my ankle so abruptly, I almost lost my balance and fell, until Bishop shored me up.
“Wha…? Hey!” I looked up to see Rob inch-worming his way across the beam up by the ceiling, almost at the same level of the window, but about ten feet away. “Rob! Be careful!”
“I got this,” he replied with an easy wink, climbing to his feet with grace for a man of his stocky build.
“Sweet zombie Jesus!” I cried out when he leapt across to the next beam. “Don’t you do that again!”
“Not to worry, luv. It’s all in hand,” Rob called down, easily keeping his balance as he crossed the last few feet to the window. I watched with bated breath while he reached for the pane of glass, my stomach sinking when he stopped an inch away, like all of the other spelled windows.
“Frak,” I whispered, looking away as his fist smashed uselessly against the barrier, a string of curses so convoluted I couldn’t follow them leaving my husband’s lips. But Rob got his temper under control, rolling his shoulders to release the tension.
“So much for that brilliant plan,” Aubrey sighed, pouring himself a refill.
“I don’t see you suggesting anything better,” I fired at him, disappointment making me snappish.
“What can you see out there?” Bishop asked, his head tipped back to watch.
“Nothing but snow and trees,” Rob reported. “Mountain in the distance, I reckon. Not a lot to see except to say I figure we’re in America somewheres if the trees are any indication.”
“Great, all that effort and the only thing we know is we’re stuck somewhere in the colonies,” Carys pouted with an unladylike snort.
“Wasn’t like it was your effort,” Rob pointed out, leaping from the rafter high above and landing nimbly on his feet before I could get out a scream.
“Of all the boneheaded… What the heck did you do that for? You could’ve broken your legs or worse!” I demanded, smacking Rob on the shoulder.
“Take it easy. I’m fine, luv,” he replied, unconcerned, chucking my chin.
“Yes, but you didn’t know that!” I pointed out. “And you guys thought I was the foolhardy one?”
“Relax, Anja, he’s fine. And now we know we can survive a jump like that. Win-win,” Bishop stuck his nose in, and I barely resisted smacking him too.
“So now you guys are on the same side, huh? Cool beans on toast.” I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much for them to be getting along, except that it felt like they were ganging up against me. Not that it mattered, I had bigger fish to fry. Mmm, fried fish. No, actually, anything fried sounded bad. Had I said I didn’t have the munchies? Strike that and reverse it. They hit with a vengeance. My eyes flicked over to where Joe sat next to the unconscious girl before I realized what I was doing and forced myself to stop thinking about it. “What do we do now?”
“Time for another drink,” Aubrey declared, tipping the end of the bottle into his glass.
“Make it a double,” Rob sighed, grabbing a bottle at random from the bar and settling heavily into a chair.
“I prefer something more refined,” Carys sniffed, disappearing in the direction of the wine cellar.
“Pour you a jot, luv?” Rob raised the bottle at me, but I shook my head.
“No, you go ahead.” I was too depressed to drink. Maybe we actually were going to be stuck in the house until we went feral and tried to eat each other? Or maybe someone outside was waiting for something to happen before he came in to get us? What if that was during the day while we all slept?
The more I tried not to think about eating, the more restless I became, so I decided to test out whether or not vampires could eat regular food. I spent a good fifteen minutes pawing through the kitchen cupboards, looking for something to nosh on. The kitchen still vaguely stunk of burnt chili, and anything in a can sounded heavy and gross. But I did find some microwave popcorn packets that had potential.
Okay, so the microwave didn’t work with the power out, but I scraped the contents into a clean pot and put it on the stove, old school. I still wasn’t sure if it would make me sick or not, but there was only one way to find out.
“Got enough popcorn for two?” Bishop asked when the first kernels started to pop.
“Sure, pull up a bowl and have a seat,” I smiled, gesturing to the stools on the other side of the kitchen island while I shook the cooking pot. “I don’t suppose you remember whether or not we can actually eat snacky food?”
“No, not really. But that sink has a garbage disposal if one of us gets sick.”
“But there’s no power to it,” I pointed out, my face screwing up, and he mirrored my expression.
“Garbage can it is.”
The popcorn smelled good though, and before too long, I had enough for two bowls piled high and slid one across the counter to him.
“Xièxie,” he smiled, and my brows rose in surprise.
“Browncoat?”
“I’m no purplebelly,” he grinned, pulling the bowl closer.
Something about the way he smiled at me triggered a memory of Bishop and me, standing in my kitchen.
“You don’t have to sit here and babysit me, I’ll be fine,” I said. He looked so serious, but I wasn’t the one in danger, not really.
“I’m not trying to babysit you, I’m trying to be here for you. There’s a difference.” Now he cracked a smile. “Keeping you safe is just a bonus.”
I waggled a blood bag at him, but he shook his head with a wince, so I nuked a single mug for myself in the microwave. “You should think about keeping yourself safe,” I pointed out. “Maybe it is for the best if you don’t go into work for a while? And I’m not saying that in an – I’m selfishly keeping you by my side for a Lord of the Rings marathon on TV – kind of thing, it’s purely a selfish – keeping you alive – kind of thing.”
“Either way, I’m sticking by your side for the moment. Hobbits are optional,” he grinned.
I stood there daydreaming to myself over the memory, wishing I knew more about why his smile made my stomach flutter when I was supposed to be married to Rob. But Bishop was a good looking guy, it was only natural that I might feel the occasional twinge of appreciation for his smile every now and again, right? What was more important was how comfortable I’d felt with him in my kitchen, the kind of easy talk that only came from a deep friendship that had nothing to do with his sexy smile.
“You alright?” Bishop’s question pulled me out of my daydream. “You haven’t touched your popcorn.”
I looked down to see his bowl almost half gone. “No, yeah, I’m fine. I just… I remembered a conversation between you and me.”
He paused with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. “Oh? What was it about?”
“I don’t know much of the background behind it, but you were totally there for me, trying to keep me safe, and I know I wanted you to be safe too.” I shook my head, it was hard to know exactly what to think without knowing the circumstances, but I knew I’d felt an incredible warmth toward him in that moment. “I think we’re good friends. The best of friends.” I expected him to smile or say something nice back to me, but instead he looked down at his bowl as though he expected to find something in the bottom of it. “What? You don’t think we’re good friends?”
“I remembered something about you too,” he said, looking up with a half smile. “Something a little more… intimate.”
My mouth opened and closed without anything coming out. He remembered something intimate with me? “Like… how intimate? Like naked time intimate?”
“No, we were both still wearing clothes, but I don’t think we were going to be for much longer. And
I don’t think it was the first or last time from the way we felt about each other.”
I didn’t know what to say or even think about that, especially when he looked at me with those intense green eyes, expecting… I don’t know what. “It must’ve been in the past.” I looked down at the ring on my hand. “I’m with Rob now. I’m married. Whatever we had it must be over.”
“I know, I know that,” Bishop nodded, looking away.
“And you’re with Carys,” I pointed out. Why did saying that leave a bad taste in my mouth? I popped a piece of popcorn in there to try and take it away, but I just tasted salt, fake butter, and regret.
“I know.” He nodded again, dropping the handful of popcorn and wiping his hand off on his jeans.
“I mean, Aubrey remembers kissing me too, that didn’t mean anything.” And then it hit me, a not so nice personal revelation. Maybe making out with hot guys was kind of my thing? “God, maybe I’m a slut? I don’t feel like a slut. Do I look like a slut?”
His head tilted ever so slightly as he smiled down at me. “Actually, you look kind of perfect.”
Boy howdy, did he know how to keep the flutters coming! It was my turn to look away, sure I was blushing to the tips of my ears. “That’s not the sort of thing you should be saying to an ex-girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that,” he agreed, rubbing the side of his neck as he thought it over. “Alright then, I’ll try to keep what I remembered in the past where it belongs.”
“I’m sorry,” I started to say, but he waved me off.
“No, it’s fine. You’re right, we both moved on.”
“We’re obviously still in each others lives, or at the very least in each other’s phones,” I reminded him, and a furrow appeared on his brow.
“What if we’re not even friends anymore? Just because we’re in each other’s phones doesn’t mean we still talk. Carys remembers you attacking her, what if that’s why we broke up?”
He had a point, but it felt wrong. If Bishop and I were on the outs, why did I feel so comfortable with him? “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we?” I asked. It seemed important to know the answer.
His lips curved into a smile as his hand covered mine on the counter. “Yeah, we’re friends now.”
That smile. It did things to me I had no right to feel, not with another man’s ring on my finger and in my heart. I felt incredibly drawn to him in that moment, his hand covering mine. Without even thinking about it, my thumb reached up to stroke the side of his finger, and his lips parted on a soft intake of breath.
And then all hell broke loose as a blood curdling scream tore through the house.
Chapter Twelve
Bishop and Anja tore into the great room, fast enough to make his head spin, but she was the one to crash into his side.
“Oops,” she said, looking up at him with a sloppy grin as his arm reached around to steady her. “I guess I need to get used to super speeds again. I don’t get how the Flash doesn’t lose his balance more.”
“Not a problem,” he replied, though he was quick to remove his arm as he caught Rob looking at them. Besides, he had way more important things to worry about. The blonde girl had stopped screaming, her eyes round as saucers as she stared at Carys and Joe locked together in a clinch on the sofa. Bishop’s stomach tightened; it wasn’t anger or even jealousy, but dread that filled him at seeing her in another man’s arms. Joe’s eyes were closed, oblivious to the rest of the room, a low, ragged moan escaping his lips as Carys drank from his throat.
“Help him,” the girl cried out as everyone stood around watching with varying levels of interest. Aubrey’s eyes were bright, as if thinking about joining them. The heady scent of blood in the air made Bishop’s mouth water too, but he wasn’t about to turn the feeding into a group activity.
“It’s okay,” Anja dashed forward, trying to comfort the girl. “She’s not actually hurting him.” Another deep moan came from Joe. “See? He’s enjoying it,” she added with an uncomfortable swallow.
“She is vampyr, and you are not caring?” the girl blinked, backing away as Anja approached. Her accent was definitely Nordic, though Bishop had difficulty placing which country she was from. “Who are you people? I am being the next victim?”
“Whoa, calm down,” Anja tried again in a soothing voice, adding a burst of compulsion, from the way she calmed immediately. “I know everything seems strange, but it’s going to be alright, I promise. We’re not going to eat you. Bishop, could you maybe do something about her? That’s kind of distracting,” she added, tossing her head in Carys and Joe’s direction.
“That’s enough, Carys,” Bishop said, agreeing that her feeding wasn’t helping the situation. Carys stopped after a couple more pulls at Joe’s throat, sealing the wounds with her own blood and then delicately licking the remains from her finger. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to do that,” he added, not bothering to hide the disapproval in his voice.
“It was only a taste,” she pouted. “He offered his blood as a gift. And I have not harmed him, as you can plainly see.” Joe lay back against the couch, his eyes half lidded with pleasure.
“Is that true?” Bishop asked him, and Joe nodded weakly.
“I didn’t want her to suffer the pangs of hunger.”
“That was more than a taste and you know it,” Anja scowled at Carys, before turning to Rob. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
Rob merely shrugged. “I ain’t her keeper.”
“You are all vampyr?” the girl asked, calmer, but still deeply frightened.
Anja took the lead. “Everyone except for you and Joe. But don’t worry, we won’t drink from you, not without permission. I guess you don’t recognize us any more than we recognize you. Do you know who you are?”
“I… am not knowing my name or much of anything else. My head…”
“It should clear in a little while, the memories might take longer. We’re all getting them bit by bit. We’re pretty sure your name is either Hanna or Nelleke though.
She tried them both out on her tongue before deciding. “I am feeling like Nelleke is more my name than Hanna.”
“Alright, Nelleke it is,” Anja smiled, and Bishop couldn’t help but appreciate the way she’d reached out to the girl. Carys was only interested in rubbing a spot of blood that’d dripped onto her dress.
“This is grand and all, sweets, but perhaps you might try asking her something of use to us,” Aubrey suggested from his corner of the room.
“I thought I’d give her a few minutes to catch her breath before I started the interrogation. Do you mind?” Anja tossed back, hands on her hips.
“Ordinarily I’d agree,” Bishop said, as diplomatically as he could. “But we don’t have time to observe all the pleasantries. I don’t suppose you feel like you might be a witch, do you, Nelleke?”
“Bishop!” Anja gasped in outrage. “You can’t just ask a girl if she’s a witch.”
“I’m sorry if I’m stepping on your girl code, but we need to know. The spells were written in ancient Norse. I don’t suppose you can read Old Norse?”
Nelleke’s eyes stretched wide. “I…”
Carys fell back, stumbling over a chair to crash to the floor in pain, gasping for breath. “Hurts,” she mewled, her face contorted with pain.
Bishop rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms. “Where does it hurt?”
“Stomach… burns.” She doubled over, clutching her middle.
“Maybe Joe’s blood made her sick?” Anja suggested, and all heads swiveled to him.
“I did not mean to,” he murmured, as shocked as any of them.
“We have to help her,” Bishop pleaded, his heart twisting with every spasm of pain that rocked through her. But everyone stared at him blankly, at a loss for what to do.
“Maybe this is serving her right for drinking from him,” Nelleke said under her breath, though they could all hear it easily enough.
“Maybe vampire
blood can heal her?” Anja suggested. “It healed the wounds on Joe’s neck. Maybe it’ll dilute the poison.”
“And what if it only makes her sicker?” Aubrey asked. “Or worse, what if it spreads the disease?”
“It’s not a disease,” Bishop scowled. “We all saw her drink and now she’s sick.”
“Bishop, you don’t even know if it’ll help,” Anja said gently.
“I have to try, it’s the right thing to do.” His relationship with Carys was complicated, but he knew she’d do the same for him in an instant, he knew it deep in his bones. He held his wrist up to her lips, but Carys was too far gone to realize what he offered, so he bit into it, the taste of his own blood bursting over his tongue. “Here you go, Carys. Drink up.”
Carys didn’t latch onto his wrist as he expected. In fact, she turned away from the offered blood, perhaps remembering what happened the last time she’d taken a drink. “Come on, Carys, take some. It’ll make you feel better,” he crooned, brushing the blood against her lips.
That was all the invitation she needed, the call of the blood cutting through the haze of pain. Her eyes fluttered open, capturing his gaze as she drank. Slowly, she pulled at the wound, and Bishop’s breath quickened at the jolt of pleasure that rippled through him, dancing along his veins. Pulling her into his lap, it was all he could do to resist roaming her supple curves, the electric connection between them obliterating all else. It went on and on, until the room began to spin, but he never wanted it to end. He’d give her his last drop if that’s what it took to save Carys.
His Sire.
She’d made him. The memory teased the edges of his mind, blurred with too many other visions of her drinking from him, both in and out of bed. He’d felt the same bond he felt now, looking into her eyes.
“Bishop, that’s enough.” Anja’s hand was gentle on his shoulder, but he couldn’t look away from Carys. Her hold on him was too great. “Carys, you’re taking too much,” her voice sharpened.