by Lori Devoti
A mocking voice at the back of her mind said that it was partly her fault too. She never had been one hundred percent honest with him, but it had been with good reason.
The air in the room felt suddenly oppressive and heavy, and she could sense Jascha’s struggle as keenly as her own, only his was different. He was struggling against a desire to speak, knowing she would leave if he did, while she was struggling against reason and her feelings, still trying to understand what had happened that night fifty years ago.
Rousing herself, she looked at his legs. All emotion drained away and she felt calm again inside but hollow at the same time. She stared at the long cut across his left thigh and watched a drop of blood slide down his skin. He was still bleeding. If he didn’t heal, she would never get answers to her questions. If she didn’t get answers, she would be stuck here in this hellhole forever.
She wanted to run away.
Her whole being said to flee and not look back, never return.
Slipping from the bed, Marise walked over to her jacket and took a needle and thread from the pocket. She had told one of the servants that she needed to repair her jacket. She couldn’t believe she had lied for Jascha.
She sat back on the bed, straddling his leg, and threaded the needle, using her teeth to break the string. She wasn’t gentle with him and didn’t feel anything whenever he hissed or jerked beneath her. Her focus was fixed on the wound. It wasn’t Jascha. It was a stranger. Jascha was dead to her. In front of her was just a soldier who she needed answers from.
She bit the thread again when she had finished sewing his leg and rethreaded the needle as she moved up the bed so she was sitting beside the pillows. She only allowed herself a brief glance at his face and a small, sick sense of satisfaction filled her when she saw how scared he looked.
Sewing the gash across his throat, she was gentler this time, more forgiving. She frowned when tiny droplets of blood formed where the needle had punctured his skin. He tensed and growled. She raised an eyebrow and barely resisted chiding him for his outburst. He looked worried when her eyes met his. She had told him to keep quiet. He probably took growling as breaking that order.
She didn’t leave. Instead, she continued to sew his throat until the wound was finally closed, bit the thread to snap it and put the needle and cotton back into her jacket pocket. Returning to the bed, she lowered her mouth to his neck and took a shallow breath to catch his scent before licking the blood off the wound and sealing it. He sighed again and she hated the light, carefree feeling it caused inside her.
Her eyes closed when he whispered something in Russian. She wished that she knew what he had said, but she had only caught the words ‘my love’ again.
When his cheek settled against hers, she gave him a moment and savoured the brief connection before severing it by moving away. He looked at her with bright eyes and she was relieved to see he was more conscious now, much better than yesterday.
She took up a clean bandage and wrapped it around his throat, pinning it and smoothing the edges. Her fingers brushed his bare skin and she didn’t stop herself from enjoying the feel of it beneath her touch.
His hand closed around hers and she stared at them. She knew what he wanted.
She stood and her hand slipped from his.
But she couldn’t do that to herself again.
“I’ll let you rest,” she said and he looked disappointed. “I will come by before daybreak.”
Marise walked to the door, unlocked it and opened it. There were footsteps in the hall. She stood in the door when a young female vampire stopped in front of her.
“Alyssa,” Marise said in a cold tone.
All she got in return was a dirty look. The younger vampire tried to pass her, but Marise stepped in time with her, blocking the door. Why did Alyssa want to see Jascha?
Alyssa shoved past her. Marise turned around. Alyssa looked at Jascha and then glared at her and Marise knew what this was about. Alyssa had always liked Jascha, but Jascha had never noticed her.
Jascha’s attention returned to Marise. His eyes narrowed and a smile teased the corners of his lips.
It seemed he still didn’t notice Alyssa.
Giving him a small nod, she left the room with a smile on her face.
Chapter Four
The graveyard didn’t look much different to the last time she was here and the biting spring weather was exactly as she had remembered it. She wrapped her arms about herself, wishing she had brought her long black coat with her and wondering how she could’ve forgotten how cold it was. She had known that her time here would’ve been spent partly outside hunting whatever did this to her family. In the few brief hours after receiving the call and before her departure, her head had been in a spin and in a way it wasn’t surprising that she had forgotten to bring such things with her. She hadn’t even changed into her best uniform. Everything had passed in a blur.
Taking a deep breath of the freezing air, she listened to the silent cemetery. It was only a small place, but it was one of her favourites. She had always come here to be alone and think, and that was exactly what she needed right now—space to make sense of everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours.
Seeing Jascha again had thrown her world off balance in a way she hadn’t expected. She had always known that if they were to meet again that things would be awkward to a degree but she had always thought she would be able to keep it together and remain detached from things, from him. Only she couldn’t. Her first sight of him had rocked her, shaken her to the core and brought all her old feelings back to the surface. She had forgotten how strong they were. The years apart had dulled them, easing her pain and leaving her free to focus on her duty. The instant she had laid eyes on him, everything had come back, not only her feelings, but the memories of that night.
Today, she had foolishly compounded those emotions and given them a stronger hold over her heart. They were impossible to shake now. She must have been insane to think she could walk in there and tend to Jascha’s wounds without her feelings getting involved. If she was honest with herself, that was what today had been all about. It was purely her love for him driving her, not a need to get him healthy again so she could get answers. She’d had to see that he was on his way to being healed so she could focus on her work by eliminating her worry about his condition.
Her head jerked up when a twig snapped in the distance.
Her senses immediately sharpened and she searched the area with them.
A tiny blip of movement grew into something big enough to be human.
She focused on the signature and slunk behind a tomb. They were walking towards her. She stilled, disappearing into the background, as silent as the grave at her back. They were definitely human. She sniffed. Definitely. Male. No trace of alcohol.
There was only one kind of sober human crazy enough to wander through a cemetery in the dead of night.
A vampire hunter.
Marise tracked their progress through the headstones and bided her time, making sure they were alone before she made a move. Maybe this hunter was the one that had hurt Jascha. Her blood burned with hunger for violence. If it wasn’t, then she could perhaps get a little information on who and where that particular hunter was.
The man neared.
The bones of her face shifted to allow her teeth to extend. Her eyes switched and the world came into sharp focus, everything around her becoming clear on her senses. She could smell the dew on the grass as it froze, could hear the tiny leaves rustling in the light breeze, barely more than a whisper, and could hear the heavy footfalls of the vampire hunter.
She closed her eyes, focusing everything on him.
Three.
Two.
One.
In a lightning quick movement, she had slipped from her hiding place, grabbed the hunter around the throat, disarmed him, and slammed him against the cold stone of the tomb. His breath left him on impact, the stake clattered onto the path, the world s
lowed to a more natural pace.
Her grip tightened.
He choked, his eyes going wide as though she was a vision of Death himself.
Satisfied that he knew not to try anything, she loosened her fingers and let him breathe. He gasped in air, tears streaming down his face. He very sensibly kept his hands up by his sides, as though she was about to arrest him.
She didn’t arrest humans, she arrested vampires.
She executed people.
“Keep calm, and you might walk away with your life,” she whispered close to his face, letting him get a good look at her fangs as she smiled.
His face was in shadow but the streetlamp shone on hers. His eyes locked with hers and she knew what he was thinking as he stared into them.
“You’re one of them,” he said in a trembling voice.
He had never met one from the seven pure bloodlines before. Not many hunters did, and those that were given the honour, usually didn’t live to tell the tale. Unless a hunter got in their way, most pureblood vampires allowed them to do their jobs because they were a good form of pest control, killing the weakling vampires and saving them from having to do it instead.
Now another hunter had dared challenge the purebloods, as though it wasn’t bad enough that her species had to deal with the likes of Caden and Nathaniel Rivers. Only this new hunter posed a real threat. The others were mostly an irritation rather than danger to her kind.
Marise stared at the man in front of her. He had a good build, probably strong enough to cope with hunting the weaklings, but the bastard bloodline had far less strength and skill than her species. His dark hair was cropped short, almost shaved, and his face bore the scars of his battles, claw marks and even a set of teeth marks on his neck. He had clearly had a few close calls in his time. It would be a shame to kill him, but duty dictated she get her answers from humans and eradicate them to avoid humans becoming aware of vampires.
“You are not like the one I am looking for,” she said, giving him a frown and acting coy so he would begin to believe that he was going to survive this. He wouldn’t talk as she needed him to if he thought his death was imminent. Humans had a way of going to pieces when faced with the realisation that this was it, the glorious end to their pointless little life.
Food for their superiors.
“Who are you looking for?” There it was, that spark of hope in his eyes that made her stomach warm with satisfaction. He thought that giving her information on someone else was going to convince her to spare him.
If she did, he would continue to hunt the weaklings and kill them, but he could also find this new hunter and tell them about what was happening. She couldn’t allow the new hunter to be warned about the fact they were looking for him.
“A vampire hunter, an elite, a monster.” She held his gaze.
A flicker of recognition crossed his face.
“You know them?” she said.
He nodded and she loosened her grip a little more, feeding his hope so he would speak. He was young. Probably no more than mid-thirties. What kind of young man had a death wish big enough to hunt vampires?
He cleared his throat and gave her a shaky smile.
“He’s not with me. I don’t even know the guy. I’ve just seen him around. I saw what he did to a group of vampires last night.” His accent was thick and definitely not European. American possibly. It wasn’t often an American knew about vampires. Most vampires had enough sense to remain on this side of the ocean in their homeland.
“What did he do?” She leaned in closer, eager to hear what the hunter was capable of and how he killed. The method would give her insight into the way this human thought and acted. It would make him easier to predict.
“Butchered them. I mean, really butchered them. It was total carnage.”
Marise searched his eyes to see if he was telling the truth. He looked shaken enough for it to be true, but then she was holding him by the neck and she was wearing her true face. It was hard to tell whether she was frightening him or whether it was this new hunter.
“Did he display any abnormalities?”
He frowned. “Other than the fact he could practically rip a guy limb from limb?”
It was all the answer she needed. Her suspicion had been right. Whoever this person was, they weren’t wholly human, at least not anymore.
“Thank you,” she said.
Relief spread across his face but quickly died when she sank her fangs into his neck and gave a sharp, deep pull on his blood. She wrapped her arms around him and delighted in the warmth and taste of the sweet ambrosia slipping down her throat. It was intoxicating after these few days without food and it went straight to her head. She tightened her grip, drinking deeper until his heart finally gave up and he went limp in her arms.
Dropping the body, she wiped her fingers across her mouth and licked them clean.
It felt as though it had been months rather than days since her last feed.
She savoured the buzz running through her, the rush from fresh strong blood, and then sighed.
Her breath turned to mist on the cold air and then disappeared. It wasn’t often she got to see that anymore. It had been centuries since she had been alive.
Turning, she walked back to the gates of the cemetery. She needed to report in her findings and maybe then she could check on Jascha as she had said she would.
* * * *
Jascha shifted so he was sitting up in bed and tried to get his thoughts onto something other than Marise. It seemed impossible. He could think of nothing but her, about how she had tended to him today, and the feel of her against him, her lips brushing softly against his skin. He sighed. It didn’t mean anything but he wished that it did. He had more sense than to believe that Marise had come back to him, but his heart still held onto hope.
If she would only let him speak and tell her how sorry he was, maybe then she would see that they belonged together, that everything that had happened that night was in the past now.
He looked down at his torso, at each cut and fading bruise. She had been so gentle with him, carefully healing his wounds so he would recover. She had been the only one to tend to him, to see what he needed in order to heal, and to take the necessary steps to ensure that happened. No one else had offered to sew his wounds, or seal them with their saliva. Not even Alyssa.
The door opened and his stomach flipped as his head turned to face it. The thrill of anticipation left him when he saw it was his brother and not Marise. She had said she would come. Had she changed her mind? He had sensed the struggle in her and knew that she was fighting a losing battle against her feelings.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the pillow behind him. Fifty years and she was still as beautiful and she still stole his attention like no other had. No one had made him feel the way she did, crazy for her, mad for her touch and hungry for her kisses. Not even in his human life.
He had never known passion like they had shared in their years together.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that he had thrown it all away, discarded everything and exchanged a life full of love for an empty one. One moment of madness, or stupidity, and he still paid for it every day.
But now she was back, and he had seen the feeling in her eyes, the love. He didn’t know whether it was strong enough to convince her to give him a second chance and listen to what he had to say. She clearly feared it because each time she visited, she gave him strict instructions not to speak.
He wouldn’t push her. He had done that all those years ago and she had left him. He didn’t want her to leave again. He couldn’t go on this way, drifting through life with no purpose other than protecting his family because he couldn’t protect her. He would give it all up, his position and his family, if she would let him be the one to protect her.
“Are you tired?” Tynan’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Jascha opened his eyes and looked at his brother, answering him
with a shake of his head.
“Waiting for her?” Tynan’s smile said it all—it was obvious he was hoping to gain her forgiveness and regain her as a lover.
“Always,” he said, his voice no longer strained by his wounds. He could feel them healing. She really had done a good job of patching him up. He owed his life to her.
His stomach turned again when the door opened and this time it was Marise. She was still wearing her uniform. Either she dearly loved her position, or she was using it as a shield around her heart, as a reminder of who she was now, so she didn’t fall for him again. He wished she would take it off and release her heart from the steel box she kept it locked in now, and listen long enough to understand how sorry he was about what had happened.
He couldn’t undo it, no matter how much he wished he could. The past couldn’t be changed. It was set in stone. It felt as though that stone was hanging around his neck.
The look in her eyes told him straight away that there would be no tender touches and concern during this visit. He didn’t even think that it was Tynan’s presence making her act indifferent and emotionless. It was as though there were two Marises, one the Law Keeper and the other the lover.
The woman he used to know.
She stopped at the foot of the bed and nodded a greeting to Tynan before turning her steely gaze on himself.
Jascha sat up a little more, keeping himself covered, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him naked. Her eyes dropped to his chest briefly and then met his again.
“Are you feeling better?” she said, no trace of feeling in her tone.
He nodded.
“I have gained information from a hunter. He saw the man that tried to kill you butcher a group of weaklings. Apparently he tore them apart, literally. I don’t believe we are dealing with an ordinary human.”
“Is that so? He didn’t seem ordinary when he fought us. He had speed, and strength... not of a pureblood, but possibly as strong as a weakling.” He kept his gaze locked with hers, silently speaking different words to her. What had happened to her? What had she been doing all these years? Had she thought about him at all?