Awakening (Fire & Ice Book 1)

by Karen Payton

  As he had done once before, Connor stood four feet behind Rebekah watching the denim-coated curves of her shapely body swaying enticingly, as she folded blankets, this time. He had fed at the hospital on vials of blood which didn’t offer the excitement of the hunt, but a flavor of that excitement burned white-hot inside his chest now.

  He inhaled her scent and a blade of need sliced open his windpipe. The tearing sensation no longer caught him off guard; he knew loving her would always be an assault on his senses. But damn, the pleasure is worth everything. The grazing of her thighs as she rocked her hips sang in his ears as a tuning fork of perfection, and he wanted to pull her back into his body.

  Her fear never failed to saturate him in satisfaction. Even though his hunting instinct pounded on the walls of his chest, he held firm, preventing the hunger rampaging through him from unleashing a feeding frenzy. While he didn’t terrify her anymore, he could enjoy an echo of it, by surprising her. She didn’t know he was there, and her vulnerability mesmerized him as he stepped silently forward and closed his chilled fingers around her midriff.

  And there it was, a brief moment to her, but a long cool draught to him. Her heart jolted in her chest as alarm raced along her spine. Every tendon tugged short while her body prepared to launch mindlessly forward. Connor smiled when her rush of fear drenched his mouth in venom.

  He knew the moment she realized it was him. She turned towards him in greeting, the momentary alarm still tumbling her over a cliff of apprehension, but she knew, now, he was there to catch her.

  Her palms imprinted onto his hard body, and his chilled nerve endings swelled to welcome the heat, flirting with pain and ecstasy. His playful growl vibrated beneath her fingertips when Connor chuckled, and he held her firmly as her shaking knees buckled.

  As always, he wondered at mankind ever dominating the planet. Evolution is clearly a comedian. The human body was hindered by the tangled ball of survival reflexes called ‘flight or fight’. They tightened reactions into knots and made useful action impossible. Connor’s ironic musing hit a wall when Rebekah’s eyes locked onto his, and the intense, fathom-deep, pools of warm chocolate swallowed him whole.

  She gasped in protest at his creeping up on her, he inhaled the yelp of shock into his cool mouth, and it stung the back of his throat when he swallowed it down. Holding her close, his fingers tugged at buttons and zips, stroking over her skin as if a message written in Braille required his urgent attention.

  She smiled into his mouth. “Hey, slow. I mean human slow, not vampire slow.”

  Lifting his head, he ran a finger slowly down over her delicate features. Drifting his touch across her cheek, he looped a silky blonde rope behind her ear, and the twitch of his lips became a rueful smile as he said, “Oops, too late.”

  Her jeans hugged her thighs for a moment longer before falling to the floor.

  She sighed in amused exasperation, and he whispered against her lips, “I’m sorry, maybe next time?” His hands smoothed over her backside as he lifted her effortlessly to frame his hips.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You too. Or did you just come in here naked?”

  “What can I say? I just find you too delicious to resist.”

  He strode across the floor, skillfully avoiding the manmade trap of discarded cartons, magazines, and zip-locked bags of laundry. He sank urgently into revival sleep, until his dulled senses resembled wading through floodwaters. They arrived at the bed.

  Rolling her gently down onto the mattress, smiling, he muttered, “How about I take this part slow?”

  The dusting of blond hair over her skin glinted as the moonlight glanced off her trembling frame. The elusive display of pearly fragments, caught easily by his keen vampire sight, dressed her body in a robe of glittering splendor.

  Revival sleep made him fearless. Laying her back, he moved down her body. The merest brush of his tongue stirred excitement, and the caress of his lips lay a tingling path down over her stomach. When he finally parted her thighs and closed his mouth over her, he wound the thread of his sanity tight. He had never dared risk tasting her, and his throat felt ragged with hunger as he held back the urge to bite.

  Holding her hips, he dipped into her heat, drowning in the pulsing softness closing around his probing tongue, feeling the inferno of her climax tingling beneath his caress.

  Her lungs clutched at the air in breathless sighs. Desire rushed through her bloodstream, her pounding heart stirring a raging current inside her, and the honeyed fragrance of it filled him.

  Connor savored each moment. When her scent burned with satisfaction, he drove her body over the edge, his tongue stroking in a sensuous rhythm, tasting her ecstasy until she shuddered beneath him, and her whimpered breath told him she was spent.

  As she lay there, abandoning her senses to the lethargy sweeping through her body, he moved reverently up over her, running his fingers over the swell of her hips, her quivering belly and ribcage. She was so delicate, and, as usual, the sight of the dusky pink marks, and an older rainbow of bruising, made him feel guilty, but only for a moment.

  Connor pressed his lips to her throat, covering her carotid pulse. The turbulent flow thundering under her skin stirred the cocktail of rubies and diamonds. Blood cells. Such a boring word for something so exquisite.

  “Am I forgiven?” He breathed, as the pulse in her throat became slow and thick.

  Seeing the wisps of heat in her hooded gaze was all he needed, to know how much she enjoyed him. For now, it was enough. He pushed himself deeper into revival sleep and folded Rebekah’s body into his. He smiled as he absorbed the micro-tremors still sparking through her nervous system, tiny pulses that fluttered against his skin. Everything about her fascinated him.

  She slept, and so did he. Not human sleep, of course. Laying with her now needed all his control. The wet shushing sound of her heart echoed in his chest and hunger pangs tore holes in the lining of his stomach. But in revival sleep he could be this close and suffer it.

  He had still to decide what to tell her about the breeding project, and he was more than happy to put it off for a while longer.

  Chapter 26

  It was not just the oxygen-starved atmosphere inside the ‘vampire’ cave making Douglas feel sick, it was the cesspool of fear, anger and disgust swilling in his gut.

  The smell of sweat and stale urine still clung to his skin, but Douglas had persuaded Harry to bring him clean clothes, at least. The blood splatters on his shirt from Connor’s bite had begun to haunt him and invade his sleep.

  Using a fork to move the congealing chicken and potatoes around his plate, bile burned the back of his throat. He rubbed a clammy hand over his neck and touching the scabbed over crescents Connor’s teeth had tattooed into his flesh focused his mind. Escape.

  “This food is delicious, Oscar.” Douglas flicked a glance upwards, a grin smeared across his face when the chef got up and moved out of sight.

  So easy. Douglas knew how to use the disgust he could feel emanating from Oscar. The tight expression on Oscar’s face said he would rather be anywhere else than there, guarding the prisoner while he ate. Douglas smiled. Let him hide from me. I can get to work.

  The obstruction of the boulder sat back on its haunches like a rearing circus elephant, waiting to roll forward onto all fours again at Oscar’s command.

  Douglas waited until Oscar took up a remote position, standing in the yellow glow of a bulkhead lamp about ten feet away. Leaning against the wall, Oscar gazed back along the tunnel along which he would return to his kitchen, once this chore was done.

  Moving nearer to the entrance of the cave, Douglas squatted and took deep breaths of air which had more oxygen than he could get when locked inside his prison.

  Forcing down the nausea, he picked up a rock and, turning it in his hands, decided which way up to put it, before he moved.

  Determination, faith, and cunning. Douglas grimaced. That’s all I need. He had been chipping away at the interior walls w
hen he was alone, excavating lumps of rock with the blunt knife he managed to steal. Oscar had bought the lie that it had fallen into a crevice. I wasn’t sure he would, and he’ll be kicking himself when he realizes. Douglas could almost taste Oscar’s anger when the day came that he discovered the cave empty. It’s humiliating, being fed like a dog.

  Each time the rock was pushed back at mealtimes, Douglas placed another stone on the rockery he was building. Each one held the boulder back a little more, and, as the gap grew, the chink of hope inside Douglas glowed brighter.

  He silently moved across to the entrance, his feet treading along an invisible tightrope. Leaning forward, he could see Oscar’s boots and the back of one broad shoulder where, as Douglas expected, his jailer leaned against the tunnel wall. Douglas fitted the rock in its chosen crevice, and then, holding his breath, he switched his tightrope walk into reverse.

  He surveyed the arrangement of bricks in his wall. The gap is what? Almost a foot? Maybe three more days.

  Douglas grimaced in silent mirth as he played out the escape in his mind, making it look easy. The last week has been the worst of my life, and they will pay. The need for revenge was like a vein of gold running through his black heart.

  The sound of footsteps pounding down the tunnel towards Oscar interrupted Douglas’ daydreaming. The echoes of feet grew louder, and were joined by a chorus of agitated voices; their words spilling into a jumble of confusion. Douglas grinned at what he recognized signs of alarm. This might be easier than I thought.

  Oscar shouted, “Get everyone into the meeting hall.”

  A screech wailed through the air when Oscar pulled the lever, and the boulder grated forward to seal his prison. As the retreating footfalls faded, Douglas, in the act of adding to his growing barricade, shot forward and lifted a rock larger than any he had tried to handle before. The weight of it almost pulled his arms out of their sockets as, crouching like a sumo wrestler and grunting, he launched the rock in a last ditch effort. It landed, rocking precariously before, with a desperate shove, it came to rest in the doorway, cradled between the rails running across the threshold.

  The huge fast-moving boulder closed the space, grinding along the rails until it drove Douglas’ rock into the wall opposite. The rock crumbled, but the compressed core of it held firm.

  The boulder groaned, settled into its new position, and silence descended inside and outside the vampire cave.

  The hole is big, but, is it big enough?

  Douglas sidled up to it and, in a vertical limbo dance, pushed into the gap. The rough rock face embedded shards of gravel into his fat, scoring deep scratches into his stomach and decorating his skin with blood-beaded grazes. He sucked in his gut and pressed harder. The sandblasted surface caressed his cheek, dragging the flesh back and refusing to let it go. His eyes watered and salty tears stung the torn skin as he pushed through the pain. His cheekbone creaked, and there was a moment when he thought it might snap, but he was wedged. Panic fluttered inside him and a sob cramped his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shoved his weight forward, hissing between his teeth when his flesh burned. Pure determination scraped his carcass through tight space. The rest is easy.

  Scuttling along tunnels he had helped to build, he followed a route which avoided the meeting hall, and his first lungful of crisp night air was laced with the heady exhilaration of success.

  It was dark and cold in the woods, but he didn’t care. I’m free. Douglas’ knot of hatred kept him warm, and it also kept him moving. Seven years, destroyed. They didn’t like me, but I had their respect, and now that’s gone thanks to that leech. His face twisted with disgust. I even had Rebekah... But, this last week, locked inside the vampire cave, his humiliation became complete. Douglas forced a bitter laugh through clenched teeth. Who the Hell does Harry think he is? Telling me to be grateful? That I should thank my lucky stars I had a safe place to hide when the bloodsucker was in town?

  Douglas’ cold gray eyes glinted. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he breathed.

  Barely an hour after escaping, he pushed through the woods, headed towards London, he hoped, but not entirely sure. He was the one sweating now. He could make better progress once the sun came up, but his biggest fear now, was he would end up circling back in the thickening gloom.

  Even if he had been a Boy Scout, the foliage overhead made navigating by the North Star a non-starter. As the temperature dropped, the pluming vapor of his breath told him he should dig in for the night. He remembered the survival tale of a polar explorer who killed a bear, cut it open and slept inside the carcass to keep warm. A snicker tugged briefly at his lips. A rabbit carcass and his bulk were not a good match.

  Scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot, he found a drift of dead leaves and bark between aged tree roots and used the blunt end of rotten branch to dig around. He laid back in the hollow he made, wishing it was deeper, but deeper also meant damper. He pulled dried out leaves over him as a buffer against the cold, and resigned himself to a long, tough night.

  Chapter 27

  It was still pitch black when the sound of a motorcycle arriving outside shattered the silence. Connor pulled on pants, left the basement, and descended the wide stone steps from the safe house to the sidewalk before the engine was cut. His cold fingers plucked the key from the ignition, and he smoothly palmed it. The rider found himself inside the hallway, pinned up against a wall before he could draw breath.

  Glaring into his victim’s white, shocked face, Connor hissed, “Are you mad?” Annoyance rattled in his chest as he said quietly, “Vampires can see in the dark, and if we were out joyriding at night, what we would never need is a headlight.”

  Added to that, most vampires out and about at this hour were delivering harvested crops to the human farm. This fool almost committed suicide.

  “At least, you didn’t wear a crash helmet.” Human watermelon verses vampire medicine ball, we definitely don’t need one.

  Vampires no longer needed to worry about the vulnerability of the living human brain, which had the consistency of jelly. Mother Nature provided a nice thick skull, but the impact of a motorcycle accident would be like a wooden spoon stirring custard in a sturdy bowl. And to coin a phrase, ‘game over’.

  The familiar waft of human adolescence clinging to the boy did nothing to lessen Connor’s exasperation. Thomas was a long way from the potent strength of manhood, and his face crumpled. He retreated as far from Connor’s frustration as he could.

  “What on earth are you playing at?” Connor sighed harshly. He could hear the kid’s heart thumping. When he finally focused on the boyish face, Connor’s irritation was tempered by the terror on the kid’s cotton-white features. “Thomas. You again.”

  “Thomas?” Rebekah repeated, as she appeared in the hallway.

  Connor released his grip on the boy’s shirt and settled for a disapproving frown. Rebekah risked her life to save him in the woods, and, like a bad penny, here he is again.

  Thomas gulped, shying away from Connor and locking onto Rebekah’s reassuring face.

  Connor set a careful hand on Thomas’ shoulder and said gruffly, “It’s okay, Thomas. No harm done.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Rebekah. “Has something happened?”

  “Leizle and Douglas have gone.” His voice was high and panicked.

  “Gone? Where?” Rebekah blurted.

  Holding up his hand, Connor said quietly, “Deep breath, Thomas. Now, tell us what you know.”

  “Leizle got cut off out in the field.” Thomas shrugged. “Douglas is just gone.”

  Connor’s nostrils flared. “Okay, buddy, you’ve done well.” Stepping back and making room for Rebekah to put her arms around the boy’s shoulders, Connor said, “Take him down below.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thomas. You won’t be able to keep up with my motorcycle. Take beta-blockers and stay in here ‘til dawn. Rebekah and I have got to get going. Do you understand?”

  “Sure.
You can trust me.” Thomas jutted out his rounded young chin.

  “Good lad.” Looking at Rebekah, Connor said, “I’ll see you outside in five minutes.”

  He strode out of the door, buttoning his shirt and pulling on the greatcoat he collected from the basement without Rebekah or Thomas seeing he had moved. He smirked when Rebekah shook her head and muttered, ‘Damn, that man is fast’.

  As promised, five minutes later, Rebekah made it down onto the sidewalk and gave Connor and the motorcycle a worried look.

  Dewy moisture glistened on the tarmac as if it was perspiring, and Rebekah certainly was. Connor wanted to taste the damp sheen on her top lip, but there was not time.

  He sat astride a Triumph 1200 Daytona. The bulbous gas tank, sprayed matt black, and black skeletal bones did not glint in the moonlight and blended into the shadows. But the one hundred and forty-seven horse power engine screaming would be a dead giveaway, once they got moving. What interested Connor, however, was that it had a top speed of bat-out-of-hell.

  “C’mon Honey,” he said calmly. He leaned over and, reaching across, he caught Rebekah’s fingers in his. Rising to his feet, he effortlessly overcame her startled resistance. He pulled her up onto the pillion seat behind him, subsiding smoothly back down and gently fitting her thighs in snugly to his.

  “We have to go.” His grin sprouted more perspiration over her body as his eyes glittered with exhilaration. She swallowed down the dry pill of nerves as he said, “Don’t worry, honey, show-boating is for idiots. No wheelies, I promise.”

  Rebekah clung to Connor’s solid bulk. His riding style, like everything else about him, was forceful. His thighs twitched with every bump in the road. Black shadows hurtled towards them at terrifying speeds, and Rebekah squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the wind chill scalding her cheeks.

  Connor could have moved faster on foot, but carrying Rebekah would have shouted human louder than the screaming motorcycle engine did. Their dash coincided with peak farming time, but Connor figured that working vampires were distracted vampires, and the motorcycle was moving insanely fast.