Awakening (Fire & Ice Book 1)

by Karen Payton

  Connor smiled. He estimated he had sixty years of experience, control, and, more importantly, strength over them both.

  On a deceptively calm note, he asked, “Can I help you, gentlemen? I do hope you’ve not come to take my meal away.” His features eased into a deliberately feral grin. Raising a sardonic brow, he added, “I’m afraid I don’t share.”

  The vampires glanced at each other, and then at the tableau of Connor, his chest bare, and the motionless girl in front of him. Their eyes darted to the visible pulse throbbing in her throat. Her heart clattered with a wet distracting rhythm, and Connor knew he had them.

  “We’re here to collect her for the farm.” The taller vampire jerked his head toward Rebekah, dressing his face in a casual mask.

  “And me?” Connor’s tone held idle curiosity. He knew their minds better than they did. There was no disguising the slur of bloodlust in their speech. Rebekah would never have made it to the farm.

  He was not surprised Serge had sent juveniles to deal with him. But then, I project my caring-doctor persona for good reason.

  “You’re free to go. We’re here for the girl.” The smaller mousy-haired vampire could not meet Connor’s eye. If he was still human, he would have fidgeted, but instead, being nervous tightened his muzzle and bared his teeth in a manufactured smile.

  Watching their faces, Connor decided the taller one would think he was strong enough to take him out. “It’s me,” he whispered into Rebekah’s ear and pressed the blade of his thumbnail into the swell of her breast. He smirked as the milky flesh molded to it before succumbing to the pressure, and a cut opened up in her skin. Slicking his thumb pad in the oozing flow of blood, he met the fevered gaze of his opponents as he deliberately lifted it to his lips.

  With every sinew primed, Connor saw the pupils of their eyes dilate to pebbles of polished jet. Snarls ripped from their throats and their diaphragms flexed in a spasm of ecstasy as the smell of human blood hit them. They launched their attack.

  The taller vampire hurtled forward, and Connor cast Rebekah forcefully away, sending her cartwheeling up through the air in a surreal fairground ride which left her stomach behind.

  Connor rushed in and grabbed the charging vampire by the throat. Without loosening his hold, he sidestepped and twisted until they were back to back. Reaching behind, securing a two-handed grip on the vampire’s neck, he leaned forward with an explosive, wrenching jerk. The vampire’s spine crumbled. Connor let go, and, like a puppet with cut strings, his victim dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

  The smaller vampire turned his back on Connor, intent on following Rebekah’s rag doll tumble across the room. Connor caught him from behind, stopping him dead in his tracks. The vampire’s head snapped forward, and Connor’s teeth whipped over the vertebra at his nape, slicing through the exposed disc of cartilage like a knife through butter. Grabbing a handful of mousy hair, Connor jerked the vampire’s head further forward, crushed his vocal chords, and released the dead weight to drop down onto his chest. Connor’s final blow severed the spinal cord and captured an expression of shocked surprise on the vampire’s face as his skull hit the ground like a stone.

  Without wasting a moment, Connor stepped over the fallen bodies and reached out to guide Rebekah’s reckless airborne descent.

  He sensed her disorientation solidifying into fear as she tensed, bracing for impact and the agony of broken bones.

  Closing his cold hands around her flailing arms, Connor slowed her flight. Her head rocked with the abrupt change in direction. As gently as his battle-pumped muscles would allow, he swung her into his chest. The air rushed from her lungs when she collided heavily with his body, finally coming to rest pulled up against the firm planes of his torso.

  He enfolded her in his arms, disconcerted by the alien feeling of intense relief which filled him. Framing her face gently in his hands, Connor breathed, “It’s over.”

  His gray eyes glowed like coal embers in a fierce white face as he demanded Rebekah’s attention. His magnetic stare drew her in until he saw her sanity return and her mind slowly find focus. With relief, Connor whispered again, “It’s over. You’re safe, honey, you’re safe.”

  As recognition dawned, the tension drained from her face and she snaked her arms around his waist. Still shaking, she pressed her cheek to his cold chest.

  He smiled tightly and tucked her head under his chin. His hands gently followed her contours, finally settling at her waist, and relief ate a hole in his gut. Locked in his embrace, Rebekah’s breathing gradually calmed and her heart rate steadied. She gripped his body as if she could not believe he was really there, and Connor fought the raging thirst urging him to taste more than just one thumb pad of her blood.

  When the trembling in her knees had stopped, they settled down to wait for dawn. Rebekah sat on the crumpled jumble of clothes again and gripped her raised knees in a way that made relaxation impossible.

  “Get some sleep,” Connor said, and moved off towards the door. “I’ll stand guard.”

  “Don’t go.”

  Connor turned back as if the anguish in her voice coiled around his heart and whipped him around.

  “Please, stay.” The dark pools of desolation in Rebekah’s gaze sucked him into their depths. ‘I’m scared’ was written there on her face, but she would not beg.

  “Of course,” he murmured. He crossed the room and in a fluid movement lowered himself down beside her. Reclining, with an arm crooked behind his head, he carefully tucked Rebekah in to his side. He was disconcerted when she relaxed and snuggled into him, resting her cheek on his chilled chest. He stared at the ceiling, counting spiders and fruit flies as a form of distraction, until the heat of her body warming him drove him crazy. “Won’t you be cold?” he muttered eventually.

  “Maybe, but it feels... safe.” She raised her head. “You don’t mind?”

  “I’ll live,” he said wryly, and was rewarded by her soft laughter.

  “It’s so quiet,” she said in whispered fascination.

  Connor knew she meant the silence of his chest, and he smiled in the dark.

  A moment during the night almost ended her life when she ran her hand over his stomach, tracing his abdomen with her fingers. Connor quickly buried her hand in his, trapping her fingers. He turned his head to look down at her. “Please Rebekah, this is already testing me to my limit,” he groaned. “I’m only human... well kind of.” His smile was tight and his eyes glittered in the gloom.

  His fingertips wandered to the congealed wound marring her breast. Running the cold pads over it, he said, “I’m sorry about that, but with the difficulty I have resisting you, I knew those two mutts would have no chance.” He forced another grin. “Now, get some sleep while you can. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 8

  Rebekah awoke to sunshine pouring in through the gaps between the wooden slats on the windows, and found she was alone in the farmhouse. Ignoring the stiff remnants of sleep, she sat up and surveyed the room. Two bodies still lay where they had fallen, but the heads were an accumulation of quarry dust. Connor explained the vampires were still conscious, despite their apparent deaths, and the humane thing to do was to grind their skulls to gravel.

  I didn’t expect him to do it with his hands. It had shocked her. But, he’s a vampire, much as I wish he wasn’t. She frowned as the fear of last night converged with the sneaking discomfort of this morning. Where is he, anyhow? He said he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Anxiety gnawed away at her common sense. She remembered telling him how Station Four, where twenty humans lived, was only fifteen miles away. Maybe I gave away too much? But the relief at being alive dropped her guard, and her mouth had run away with her.

  Unease prickled down her spine. What if he was playing me? Is he planning our capture and dispatch to the farm? If so, he knows a lot more now.

  Looking for comfort, Rebekah clutched at straws. Well, he’ll be out of luck. Some of the guys are out in the field with Greg
. Smart, Rebekah, it also means the one guy who has a chance of saving us isn’t there. Shit.

  She jumped to her feet and got moving, fear and anxiety swilling inside her. He’s a vampire for Christ sakes! He only saved me so he could get the others, too. Tears stung and she swiped at them angrily. But, I liked him. She slammed the lid shut on the thought.

  Well, he’s not here, so I’ve got a chance to put this right. Leaving the clothes and grabbing only a few pieces of fruit, she rushed out into the sunshine, strode over to the car, and jumped in. She took a nervous moment to look for him. He could be hiding from the sunlight? Even though the trees cast heavy shade over the dirt track, he didn’t seem to be near the car.

  Taking a calming breath, she started the engine. What if they hear?

  But, she had a choice, so, once the hunk of metal was moving, she kept the speed down to where the engine note seemed quietest. Letting the car roll as much as possible, she gripped the steering wheel. Part of her hoped it would bring Connor back, but as the ribbon of asphalt trickled by beneath the tires, disappointment seeped into her cramped muscles.

  The jolt of the car as the engine spluttered and died scared Rebekah to death. In the thickening silence, she sat there bathed in sweat and praying. Shit, that was stupid. She calculated she had gained only a few miles before the gas ran out. Gritting her teeth, she silently raged against God and the injustice of being stranded, but eventually, she got out of the car.

  A breeze rippled through the trees, rustling the cool green canopy overhead and stirring the shadows on the road. Rebekah peered into the undergrowth and shivered. Turning away, she trudged towards the middle of the field. This far outside London, she felt safer in the sunshine.

  If he has gone back and got a hunting party together, they’ll travel in the woods. Rebekah glanced up at the sky. Today was a scorcher, so at least something was in her favor. I just need to get back and sound the alert. They practiced it often enough. We will pack-up and disappear. The evacuation drill of the eco-town was hardwired into their consciousness.

  The recent heavy bursts of rainfall made the ground boggy in places, and with the sun beating down, pretty soon Rebekah found the humidity suffocating. Her muscles ached from staying low in the chest high grass, but deep down she knew she was not as invisible as she felt.

  It was slow going covering the stony ground and feeling hot didn’t help. The pheromone spray isn’t going to cope with sweaty me, darn it. An hour later, hot and sweaty seemed like a picnic. The heat made her feel sick and her legs decided they couldn’t take anymore. And then, lifting her face to a sudden scurrying gust of wind which chilled the sweat on her skin, she gave thanks. The sky lowered, the heavens rumbled as they opened, and a typically-English downpour fell out of the sky. She looked up at the thunderous purple clouds, and closed her eyes as the heavy droplets splattered her hot cheeks and soaked her through.

  <><><>

  An hour before dawn, Connor had lain with Rebekah in the dark, listening to the lilting tone of her sleepy voice until even his hearing could no longer make the tumble of thick sounds into words. The deep sigh of her regular breathing filtered into his head, and the rise and fall of her chest gently massaged his side as the relaxation of human sleep melted her bones. Easing out of the embrace which held her snuggled into him, Connor battled with the monster inside his head, locking every muscle tight as grave sleep beckoned, and the killer rattled on his cell door, demanding rehydration.

  The siren call of her slumberous pulse rolled vicious contractions through his gut, and his fingers itched to close around her neck. He ached to bite into her carotid artery and drown in her dying pulse, but not until he at last, buried his body inside hers.

  Rebekah stirred, wriggling closer and shifting her weight onto one hip, and the satin warmth of the thigh she stroked over his stomach almost fractured his control. Desperation to dip into her feminine folds made the length of her leg a tourniquet around his middle, cutting off rational thought from gut instinct. Connor slipped away while he still could.

  Poised to run, arguing that the attack of last night would not be repeated any time soon, Connor realized he could not take that chance. The vampires had not been ‘passing by’, and Serge might have sent out scouting pairs in all directions, playing the numbers. I can’t rule it out.

  On a hunch, he patted down the bodies of his two vampire victims and came up empty. Settling back on his haunches, he frowned. He didn’t want to run the risk of going back into London to beg Julian for a vial of human blood, but there was no way to hydrate his brain center without it. It’s a long shot, but if these two were out on a mission, then surely- They were here to fight. Connor checked the tread patterns on the soles of their boots and retraced their steps out through the door of the farmhouse and across the meadow.

  The gouges in the muddy field showed they had come in under full speed, but they both stopped twenty yards out. The pre-dawn light cast a glittering blanket over the dew-laden blades of grass, making it easy for Connor to find the flattened spot where the vampires had settled to plan their attack.

  He grinned as he dropped down onto one knee. Bingo.

  Four empty vials lay on the ground, but had been drained in a hurry, and, it may not be much, but dregs of human blood sat in the bottom of each. Not letting the glass touch his lips, Connor tipped the containers up and waited patiently for the droplets to slide along the glass. In a drought, anything will do.

  Back at the farmhouse, Connor zeroed in on the car. He opened the trunk, surveyed the space, and swept an ironic glance down his solid bulk. Leaning in, he pounded a fist along the back wall, feeling the upholstered backs of the seats jump in protest.

  “That ain’t gonna hack it,” he muttered. Damn, can this get any tougher?

  He headed around the back of the farmhouse, to the wood heap which he guessed would be there. The Aga wood burning stove in the kitchen needed fuel. He expected the short stumpy blocks to be useless, but he found the ax, picked it up and balanced its solid weight in his palm. It had been a while since he had used an ax as a fake human, but he welcomed the distraction.

  He set off through the wood, cut three thick tree limbs to length and carried them back to the car.

  After packing them into the trunk to strengthen the back wall, Connor rolled himself down inside. He wriggled his shoulders into place, grinding away some of the bark. He pulled the lid down and the lock clicked shut, but he was taking no chances. Twisting in the tight space, he gripped the metal box covering the catch and crushed the mechanism into an ingot of steel.

  With a grating sigh, he surrendered to the psychopath ricocheting around inside his brain center, and sank urgently into grave sleep. Convulsions rippled through his body, rocking the car chassis violently until he slowly wound each sinew tight and locked his cramped limbs in place.

  His confinement was imperative for Rebekah’s safety. And for my own sanity. Even if I left, I would know where to find her. Bloodlust would drag me back, and I would tear out her throat. For reasons he preferred not to inspect too closely, his mind shied away from the thought of ending her life.

  Lying in his less than perfect prison, knowing he had taken every precaution, Connor prayed. His one hundred years of experience was a blessing. Every time the hot tongue of hunger licked over his brain and threatened to overpower him, he came back, gathered his control, and then slipped under again. It was all part of not spooking the herd when I was a field surgeon in the casualty clearing stations. When I was Sergeant Connor Sanderson of the Royal Army Medical Corps; pretend human.

  But he never expected Rebekah to get in and drive the damn car. The smell of her candied sweat, the memory of her blood staining her breast, and the taste of it on his thumb, clawed at his throat and almost destroyed his sanity. It took every ounce of his iron will to stay still.

  Thankfully, the car traveled only a short distance before her compelling presence faded.

  Once fully refreshed, he braced his shoulders
against the inside of the trunk lid, steadily increasing the pressure until the distorting metal screamed, and, with a final shriek, the mangled lock burst open.

  Standing on the side of the road, brushing the sawdust from his shirt, he raised his head and scented the breeze. He set off to find her. I thought she would sleep longer after the shock of last night, but clearly, she’s made of sterner stuff.

  When he did find her, red-hot anger sizzled along a fuse wire of frustration.

  She was bathed in sunshine, struggling through long grass, and exuding a pheromone cloud that instantly tightened his groin. The constriction of his pants bit into him, and visions of her thighs locked around his hips almost seared a hole in his brain.

  Damn it, frigging cocktail of sex and stupidity. Connor concentrated fiercely on tracking her from the dank shade of the tree line, scanning for approaching danger. When the woodlands to his left abruptly fell silent, he swiveled sharply around and listened. Tracing an arc, he moved briskly through the trees, oblivious to the rough bark tearing his clothes as he threaded his way between them, hugging their shadows.

  He froze when he saw a vampire moving through the undergrowth.

  The vampire’s head rotated in a constantly scanned motion, like a radar sweeping the woods. Looking for roe deer, badgers, what? There was nothing bigger than that to hunt. Except... her.

  Turning his face to the breeze, Connor flexed his chest. I can smell her, but is it because I’m tuned in to her scent?

  Looking back, he stiffened when he caught sight of the vampire’s face. A river of dry blood ran down from its slack mouth, ingrained into the folds of his neck. Breathing in gently, Connor passed the odor cloud drifting in the woods over his palate and tasted four-day-old rotted blood. Human blood. The front of the vampire’s black coat glistened like oil and was stiff with clotted blood and fragments of dried flesh. Damn, a feral.

  The constant swinging of the feral’s head ceased abruptly and, swallowing the pool of thin bloodied saliva gathered in his throat, he lifted his chin and glared through the trees.