Red Dawn

by Bonds, J. J.

  “Of course you are,” I respond, rolling my eyes. I’m pretty sure he uses the suggestive innuendos to throw me off my game. There was a time when I thought Nik was nothing but a douchey player, but I know him well enough now to realize that isn’t really the case. He just likes to get me fired up. Not today though. I push all thoughts of Nik’s sexy smile from my mind. I need to be completely focused unless I want to spend the afternoon eating mat, which I don’t.

  “So what’s the plan for today?”

  “Since you’ve been working so hard with Viktor all summer, I figured I’d give you a special treat.”

  “Which is?” I ask suspiciously. I know better than to trust Nik inside the training center. I have to be prepared at all times because he’s always testing me.

  “A chance to try and prove yourself and get me on my back in the process.” I track each of his movements. If I let my guard down, he will take advantage.

  “Cocky much?” I ask, braiding my hair with deft fingers. Nik’s feeling frisky. Judging by the roguish look on his face, it’s probably best not to give him anything to grab onto. I swiftly tie off my braid as Nik begins to circle. Keeping my eyes trained on him, I assume a defensive stance shifting my weight to the balls of my feet. Before I can determine whether or not I should attack, Nik takes the decision out of my hands.

  Nik lunges forward and my instincts take over. His fist shoots past my head as I duck under his extended arm. I ball my own fist and deliver a counter strike to his midsection. The blow lands solidly on his right side. Before I can withdraw he brings his knee up and drives it into my chest. I stumble backward and land on my ass.

  “I thought you’d been practicing?” Nik taunts.

  “Shut it,” I growl through gritted teeth as I jump back to my feet. I can’t let him get inside my head. If I do this match will be over before it begins.

  I go on the offensive as soon as my feet hit the ground. I surge forward delivering a triple kick that drives Nik backward across the mat. Outside kick, spinning back hook, roundhouse. Although he yields his position on the mat, Nik blocks them all. I drop to the mat and attempt to sweep his feet out from under him, but Nik easily dodges. He flips gracefully over my head and as I spin around I get an elbow strike to the temple for my effort. The force of the blow causes me to bite my lip and I feel a warm trickle of blood making its way down my chin.

  We go at it like this for a while. Punch, kick, block, roll, sweep, kick, dodge. It’s a vicious and brutal cycle. Seeking to end the match, I roll to the left and spring up from the mat, driving my palm into the underside of Nik’s chin. His head snaps back and I follow up with a spinning back fist. He retaliates with a kick to the back of my right knee. I crumple to the mat and just barely manage to block the fist that very nearly crushes my throat as Nik descends upon me.

  I’m faster and stronger, but Nik’s a more patient and skilled fighter. As Nik and I lay on the mat, arms locked, both struggling to gain the advantage, I contemplate the knife in my boot. Probably not a good idea. Pulling a weapon is likely to be considered bad sportsmanship in hand-to-hand combat. Besides, it’s only training. Nik lets out a groan and I tentatively raise my eyes to meet his.

  When our eyes lock I know I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I’ve seen that smoldering look before. In my experience it precedes a smoking hot kiss. Nik’s lids are hooded and his breath is coming hard and fast as the weight of his well-muscled body presses my back into the mat. I’m trapped. My own breath catches in my throat and my grip on his forearm falters. Before I know what’s happening, I’m face down on the mat, arms bound behind my back.

  “Do. You. Yield?”

  “Bloody hell!” I scream, angry at myself for being a sucker. I should have seen that coming. Nik’s been known to play a little dirty when it comes to me.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He laughs and releases me. I sit up and rub my wrist, giving Nik the dirtiest look I can muster. I doubt he even notices. He’s too busy gloating, although I’m sure he doesn’t miss the flaming embarrassment painted all over my face.

  “I’m so stabbing you next time!”

  “I’ll consider myself warned,” he snickers, pulling me to my feet. “Besides, I’d expect nothing less from you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, tilting my head innocently.

  “Just that I know how much you hate to lose.”

  “You know, for a minute there I thought you were trying to compliment me on my resourcefulness,” I tease.

  “Katia, if I were going to compliment you, it would be on those stunningly short shorts,” he purrs.

  Before I can come up with an appropriately indignant response, he’s running his finger along the waistband of my running shorts. Okay, so maybe Nik is faster than me. But I can’t think about that right now. Actually, I can’t think about anything except the heat blazing along my skin. Nik’s finger leaves a delicious trail of fire in its wake. I should push the roving hand away, but deep down I know I don’t want it to end. I want more. A lot more.

  “Nik.”

  “Shh,” he murmurs, closing the gap between us. His lips brush my cheek ever so lightly. My pulse thunders so loudly in my ears that I’m not sure I hear his next words right. “I missed you this summer.”

  “I’m sure you could have found someone to keep you warm at night,” I stammer. I know I should put some more space between us, but I don’t.

  “Sticks and stones,” he replies, pulling back. He looks me dead in the eye and I can hardly breathe. “You don’t mean that.”

  He’s right. I didn’t really mean it. So why did I say it? This always happens. It’s not that I don’t want Nik. I do. I just can’t seem to let my guard down. Or keep my big, fat mouth shut.

  “You didn’t call.” Ugh! Lame. It’s not like we had a commitment or anything. I probably shouldn’t have said that either. It sounds accusing and possessive. I kind of suck at this.

  “I spent my summer training with the Linkuri. They’re pretty strict with potential inductees,” Nik explains, toying with my braid. For a minute I forget that I’m supposed to be annoyed. All I can think about are those hands and what I want him to do with them. Why does he have to be so freaking hot? “There wasn’t much time for anything outside of the program, but you’re right. I should have called.” He ducks his head and for once I actually think he’s really sorry.

  “You’re here now,” I reply, threading my arms through his and wrapping them around his back.

  “Getting pummeled by you? In those shorts?” He smiles seductively and I start thinking about better uses for those lips. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Enough talking.”

  I grab Nik by the back of the neck and pull his face down to mine before I lose my nerve. Our lips meet and I unleash the full extent of my raw desire, moving my mouth hungrily over Nik’s. He tastes even better than I remembered. Probably because he fed recently. I run my free hand over the taught muscles of his arms before coming up for air.

  “I’ve been waiting three months to do that.”

  “I’d forgotten how unpredictable you can be,” Nik replies stroking my face. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “How do you feel about an encore performance?”

  He smiles seductively and I go a little weak in the knees.

  “I could do this all day.”

  Chapter Five

  “What exactly are you doing?” Shaye asks eyeing me curiously.

  “Trying to scrub blood out of my shirt,” I respond without looking up. Apparently my busted lip was worse than I thought. There’s a trail of blood down the front of my workout tank. “I’m getting tired of throwing clothes in the trash.”

  “Oh? Do tell!” She tosses her backpack on the unmade bed and flounces across the room. Not bothering to ask permission, she pushes my textbooks aside and makes herself comfortable at my desk. “Have you been training with Nikolai?”

  “Sure, make yourself right at home,” I r
espond, ignoring her raised eyebrows as I hold the shirt up for inspection. I can still see the blood stains, but I figure it’s salvageable. “You’d think someone in the vamp community would have come up with a decent stain remover by now. There have to be more than a few messy eaters out there.”

  “Come on, Katia. Spill!” She looks like a kid on Christmas, bouncing up and down in the chair. It’s almost cute in an annoying little sister kind of way. “Please?”

  “Alright. If you must know, yes, I was training with Nik.”

  “I knew it!” she giggles, spinning the desk chair with a dreamy look on her face. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to spend an unsupervised hour with him. That boy is smokin’ hot!”

  “Shaye!” I cry with barely concealed outrage.

  “What? That boy is a sexy beast with a supersize side of hotsauce!”

  “What about Keegan?” I ask, refusing to let her bait me.

  “Kidding!” she responds, putting her hands up in protest. “Sort of. So what’s the deal with you two anyway?”

  “We’re training together again,” I tell her, pitching the stained shirt in the laundry basket. “Other than that, I’m not really sure.”

  “Oh, please!” she snorts. “The tension between you two is thick and fully charged. It’s just a matter of time until you get an NC-17 rating.”

  “Whatever.” I wave her off. Not that I’d mind getting hot and sweaty with Nik, but we are so not talking about that right now. “What about you and Keegan?” I ask, redirecting her thoughts. “I hardly ever see you. What happened to promises of a never ending sleepover?”

  Shaye’s been spending a lot of time in the stables with Keegan lately, more than she probably should, and she looks a little run down. It’s got me worried. I don’t want to see her have a relapse. Or get busted for messing around with the school’s horse trainer.

  “Keegan and I are status quo.” Her eyes narrow and her face hardens. Gone is her usual levity. She looks like a completely different person. One who should not be messed with.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we are on the DL like any clandestine student-staff relationship.”

  She says it like it’s no big thing, but I know the secrecy bothers her. Keegan’s status as a mixed-blood vampire and a member of the staff makes him a less than appropriate match for Shaye. Truth be told, it’s a bunch of BS. Keegan is a better boyfriend to her than any of the pureblood vamps enrolled at Crossroads could ever be. I’m pretty sure he’d do anything for Shaye, even die for her. A love like that doesn’t come along every day and that’s what’s wrong with our bigoted society; total inequality for mixed-blood vamps. Hell, Crossroads would bounce me out on my ass in a heartbeat if Pratt found out the truth about my bloodline.

  “And here I thought secret romances were supposed to be so much hotter,” I joke, trying to get a smile out of her.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She laughs lightly. “Keegan would kill me if he knew we were having this conversation. He can be a bit of a prude for a guy who’s been around the block a few times. He doesn’t like to talk about… stuff.”

  “He just likes to do it?” I ask and we both burst out laughing. That’s much better. Shaye’s looking more like herself. I almost hate to ask the next question. “So, how have you been feeling?”

  “Is this your way of telling me I look like hell?” she asks, dodging my question.

  “Not hardly. I think we both know that if I was trying to say you looked like hell, I’d just say it straight out.”

  “So true,” she agrees, running a hand through her hair. It’s a tired gesture. “And that is not a compliment.”

  “Noted,” I reply, nodding solemnly. She’s not getting off that easily. “Your health?”

  “Holding steady,” she lies. She’s about as good at lying as I am. “The good news is that Dr. Philips and his team are making progress.”

  “You still keep in touch with him?” I ask, surprised. I introduced them last New Year’s, but I thought it ended there. Philips is a busy guy. Who’d have figured he would keep in touch long term?

  “I know. Can you believe it? He emails me an update every Monday. Hasn’t missed a week yet.” She looks a little surprised herself.

  “Really? Isn’t that some kind of confidentiality breach?” Surely the research conducted at The Dwyer Group has to be top secret. Between the money invested in R&D and the sales potential, there’s an awful lot at stake.

  “I guess not,” she shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like he says anything specific. His emails are pretty general, but he told me a few weeks ago they were moving into the final test stages for a possible cure. It sounded promising.”

  “Shaye! That’s great news!” I say, jumping up to hug her. “Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”

  “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Who knows if it will even work, right?” She stares out the window and I know she’s wondering if her faith is misplaced. It can’t be easy living with the knowledge that each day could be your last. A sense of mortality isn’t exactly ingrained in the vamp community. “Besides, it could take months to go into production, even if it is effective at treating the blood disease.”

  “Shaye, you have to keep fighting. Whatever it takes, you will be at the top of the list for treatment. I promise.”

  **********

  “Let’s try it again.” Anya pushes another crystal goblet toward me. It’s filled to the brim with human blood. My stomach heaves at the thought of drinking it. I don’t even try to suppress my gag reflex.

  “Let’s not and say we did,” I reply, giving Anya my most tortured look. It doesn’t work. She’s immune to my pleas at this point. Who’d have figured Anya for such a hard ass? I thought for sure she’d have caved by now, but she’s relentless in her quest to turn me into a full-fledged, blood vision wielding vamp. As if it’s something to be proud of.

  “This isn’t optional, Katia. You must master this skill.”

  “Skill?” I ask skeptically. “Delving into the memories of those I’m feeding on hardly seems like a skill. More like a curse.”

  Turns out being a vamp isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, some days, like today, are just plain old sucktastic. Okay, yeah, there are some perks: superhuman strength, lightning fast speed, and hyperextended mortality. But this? This is hardly what I’d call a perk.

  “Drink,” Anya commands.

  “You know, if you’re going to act like a drill sergeant, you might want to invest in a pair of combat boots,” I tell her, picking the goblet up by its stem. “The zebra print stilettos are a little misleading.”

  “Trade in my Jimmy Choos?” she asks, looking horrified. “Never!” She quickly pulls the coveted shoes back under the desk as if I’m going to snatch them right off her feet like Dorothy and the ruby red slippers. I can’t help but laugh, despite my current predicament.

  Anya’s attachment to her shoes is absurd, especially for a professional counselor, but I have bigger concerns. Like this monstrous glass of FTFO. I raise the glass to my lips, determined to get it right this time, so I can put an end to today’s session.

  The blood slides past my lips easily. It’s a little cool for my tastes, but this exercise isn’t about pleasure. It’s about control. The vision starts immediately. This blood is fresh. Very, very fresh. I don’t have time to wonder where Anya got it as I’m sucked into a violent and painful memory.

  “Remember what we talked about, Katia.” Anya’s voice cuts into my subconscious. “You can control the flow of the memories coming in.”

  I lose my grip on the wheel and the car slides off the road, leaving a spray of dirt and gravel in my wake. There’s no guardrail to prevent me from barreling down the bumpy hillside. My body bounces savagely in the drivers’ seat. My tailbone is screaming in protest. I hold tightly to the steering wheel, trying to regain control of the vehicle. My knuckles are bone white from the effort.

  “Picture a great and impenetrable wall. Th
ere’s only one door. A very small door. It’s locked and only you hold the key. Only you can open the door,” Anya reminds me. “You’re in control of when the door opens and how wide. Just as you are the only one who can close it.”

  We hit a rock and I bash my head on the roof of the car. It hurts like hell. Should’ve worn my seatbelt. I try stomping on the brakes, but it’s useless. The car is moving too fast. They’re not responding. Why aren’t they working? In a panic, I pull the emergency brake, but the hill is steep and the car just spins out. I’m afraid it’s going to roll, but it doesn’t.

  “Katia, you can control what comes through that door. You can filter those memories. You can choose.”

  The car slams into a tree and I’m thrown forward. My face shatters the glass as my body sails through the windshield. The jagged glass tears at my skin, ripping it from my face and arms. I’m flying now, like Superman, only it’s terrifying, not at all how I thought it would be. My broken body crashes to the ground and I pray for unconsciousness. It doesn’t come.

  “Push the emotions from your mind. You must separate yourself from the vision,” Anya coaches dutifully. “It’s no different than a movie. You are only there to watch, to observe, to direct.”

  Unable to move, I lay in the damp grass. At first I think it’s the morning dew, but then a sickening realization hits me. The grass is slick with blood; my blood. My heart is pumping it out at an alarming pace. The morning breeze is ripe with my scent. Searing pains shoot through my body and I think I must have broken a bone. Or twenty. I’m helpless. All I can do is lie here and bleed. All I can do is lie here and die. Dark clouds roll in overhead and a slow drizzle begins to fall. Drops of rain pelt me in the face and I black out.

  “Katia?” Anya’s come around the desk. She touches my arm tentatively as the vision fades. Her face is even paler than usual. Understandable. I’m pretty freaked out myself as I look at the scrap of leather in my clenched fist.

  “Sorry about your chair,” I mutter holding up the torn piece of fabric. It’s a shame, really. This was one comfy chair.