Secrets in Blood

by Patricia D. Eddy

“I fought my way free of the silver—the pain overwhelming. I managed to lay the chains on her neck, her belly, her feet, trapping her. I doused the bed sheets around her in alcohol and then lit them on fire. When the flames touched her skin, she screamed, but the silver kept her prisoner. She burned as I watched, and when the flames had turned her body to nothing but bones, I ran.” Silence filled the space between them.

  “Where did you go when you left her?”

  Nic eased her up, found her hand within the blanket, and brushed her fingers to his lips. Her heartbeat steadied as he kissed down her wrist and back up again. “I found my way back to my home. I had to break in. My wife had been buried. We had no living heirs. I packed some clothing and my father’s books in a trunk and set off for Naples. I lost myself there, started a new life and resumed my surgery practice. A sip or two of blood as I operated, a drop of my own blood on my patient’s tongue, and no one was the wiser. I saved men, women, and children who had no hope. Every ten or fifteen years when the locals would become suspicious of my persistent youth, I’d move and start anew. Nearly five hundred years passed in this fashion until my kind decided to make themselves known.”

  He fell silent once more, his warmth seeping into her weary body, and his steady heartbeat under her ear comforting. She could stay in his arms forever, but with her father after them both, panic gripped her. “Are we safe here?”

  “Si. For tonight.”

  Sleep dragged her closer to oblivion, but as she shifted her hips against him, the scratchy blanket next to her skin brought one embarrassing thought to mind. “I’m naked, aren’t I?”

  Nic laughed, pulling her closer. “I’m afraid so. Your clothing could not be saved. Between the blood and the fire, little remained.”

  “Scars?” she asked, her voice trembling. Her fingers flew to her face, touching the new skin, reaching for her hair, until Nic captured her wrists, pulling them to her chest.

  “No. Your body needs rest, but you are whole.”

  She barely heard him. A tear slid down her cheek—more from exhaustion than anything else, and Nic brushed the drop away with a deep sigh. The connection between them had strengthened with everything he’d shared, now that she knew the hell he’d gone through to survive.

  Nic brushed a few rocks away and laid her down, then pulled one of her sweaters from the pack and folded the wool as a makeshift pillow. “Sleep, cara. We can talk more in the morning.”

  With his story tumbling over and over in her mind, she let herself succumb to the lure of sleep. Nic woke her sometime later, urging her to drink some water. Fire crackled nearby, warming her legs under the blanket. He’d fought his fear to keep her safe and comfortable. Peering up at him through half-lidded and bleary eyes, she asked the one question she’d not wanted to risk earlier. “Did you kill them? Henry’s men?”

  “The two big ones, si. The other two fled through one of those portals you used when we escaped.” Sadness laced his next words. “Vampires are not kind creatures. We have evolved to kill. Whatever abomination created the first of us…we are all cursed. Violence is a part of us, so easy and natural. I could not fight my nature when I saw you bleeding and burned. I had no choice. I am sorry.”

  He hadn’t meant to tell her so much of his making. When he realized the strength of his feelings for her, that the bonding was already half-completed between them, he had vowed never to tell her. But seeing her in pain, her warm brown eyes temporarily blinded, blood staining her skin, his resolve had faded. He could have spoken more of his work as a surgeon, of joining the Conclave, of how he’d learned how to invest in the early twentieth century, how he settled permanently in Sorrento once he’d given up his medical practice—anything but his violence, his most painful memories.

  He could have told her how he’d traveled the world before the vampires made themselves known, how he came to America in the first place, or his awe at seeing the vastness of the Atlantic from his first airplane ride. He should have told her anything but how he had murdered an old man and set his sire ablaze.

  But she knew now. For better or worse, she knew what the making had done to him. Before he brought up the subject of their bonding, she needed to know the truth.

  He scented the air. No man stirred in the woods. Only a few deer, scratches from a rabbit warren, and the scents of Evangeline’s blood and her burned skin on his clothing set his senses alight. By morning she would be whole again. He wished he had told her one more thing: his vow to never sire another.

  Stretching out as close to the fire as he dared, he watched her sleep. Flames would always frighten him. Henry had often used a miniature blow torch to scald his skin, and Nic still felt the pain of those wounds in his memories. He only managed to light the fire because he knew Evangeline needed warmth. He wanted to sleep next to her, to feel her relax against him as she had done the night before, but he couldn’t. Not until they had talked more.

  Dreams stole him away. His little boy, Alessandro’s soft fingers patting his cheek, the high-pitched laugh as Nic swung him through the air. But the happy memories faded as he found himself kneeling in his wife’s blood.

  “Nic?”

  “Hai ucciso mio figlio. Per favore, fammi morire.” He begged his sire to kill him, but she ignored his desperate pleas.

  “Nic, wake up.”

  Evangeline. Merda. With a jerk, he sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  “You were dreaming.” She knelt beside him, her hand on his arm. She’d pulled the blanket tightly around her body, and her bright eyes had cleared, and now held nothing but concern. “You were speaking Italian. I don’t understand.”

  Nic caressed her cheek. “I am sorry for waking you. You should stay close to the fire. You need the warmth.”

  Evangeline frowned and sat down next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I don’t want to be alone. And don’t you think I’ve had enough fire for one day?”

  The tension leeched out of his body with his chuckle. “Fair enough, tesoro. I will keep you warm.”

  As his arms encircled her slight frame, she settled with her head on his chest. If only he could stay like this with her forever. The thought of leaving her and severing the growing bond between them filled him with dread. His heart would always belong to her, even if he never saw her again once they reached Italy. Love had bloomed inside of him, in a heart he thought had long withered. She’d somehow become his oxygen, his sunlight, and a piece of his soul.

  Yet, she had no knowledge of his world. How could he tell her? Or should he keep his secrets, leaving her the moment he brought her to safety? He had no answers. That would wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he would fall asleep with his life mate in his arms.

  19

  Evangeline stretched under the camping blanket, her muscles stiff and sore. The stench of dried blood lingered over more pleasant fragrances of pine needles, a dying campfire, and the comforting richness of tobacco and spice. Nic.

  Streaks of purple painted the sky. She shivered and sat up, alone. “Nic?”

  He wouldn’t leave her. Would he? Pulling the blanket tightly around her naked body, she tried to get up, but her muscles protested the movement, and she sank back down on her ass.

  “Evangeline.” Nic rushed around the sheer rock face to her left and dropped to a knee. “Are you all right?” Worry furrowed his brow, and he cupped her cheek, searching her face.

  “Just…a little unsteady. Where did you go?”

  “I had to refill the canteen.” Nic handed her the water bottle, and she sucked down half the cool, crisp water. “And I wanted to ensure there was no one about between here and the river.”

  The water revived her slightly, and she settled against him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know where we started from, so I can only speculate. I headed southwest. Perhaps thirty miles from where I found you.”

  “You carried me thirty miles?” How long had she been out of her mind with pain? She rem
embered him telling her of his making while he carried her through the forest, but thirty miles?

  “I could carry you for days. You weigh nothing at all.” His deep purple eyes softened. Copper patches stained his flannel shirt, his jeans were ripped, and his long hair flowed loose around his shoulders. “Do you have any pain?”

  “No. I feel like I slept for a week.”

  “Buono.”

  “I wish we had another set of clothes for you.” She ran her fingers over the torn denim.

  “As do I. I don’t enjoy smelling your blood on me. Nor the blood of the man who hurt you.” His voice took on a dark tone, and he sighed, staring out into the forest.

  “Will.” She shuddered, remembering the agony of the knife plunging into her shoulder, the fire licking along her neck, her jaw, her face. Trapped in the memories, when Nic took her by the shoulders, she cringed, and he sprang back, his hands in the air.

  “I will never hurt you, cara.”

  Focusing on him, on the uncertainty in his eyes, she worried her lip between her teeth for a long moment before replying. “I know. I didn’t mean…shit. I wish things were different.”

  “What can I do? Please, Evangeline. I cannot stand the thought of you being frightened of me.”

  Nic’s desperate tone had her reaching out her hand. That…and she needed him close to her now. As he linked their fingers, still a foot away from her, she tried to swallow over the lump in her throat. “I’m not afraid of you. I wish…we’d met away from my father and his fucking zealots. You ended up his prisoner because of me. And you killed last night because of me. Everything bad that’s happened—to both of us—is because of me.”

  “No. You are not your father, Evangeline. You did not torture me. You did not shoot me. You freed me.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as Nic leaned over and lifted her braid. Threading his fingers through the burnt strands, he tsked softly. “Turn around.”

  She obeyed, resting her forehead on a cool slab of granite. When he pressed closer, she shivered—not from fear, from the intense need that raced through her.

  Combing through her locks, he sighed as the smell of burnt hair reached her. “How bad is it?”

  “Not so bad.” He gathered her hair in one of his hands, and the metallic slice of the knife made her flinch. Three inches of burnt and uneven locks landed next to her, and Nic smoothed his hands down her shoulders. “There. Let me see?”

  She twisted in the few inches of space between the rock and the hard body of the vampire behind her.

  He smiled and curled his fingers under her jaw. “A cosa somigli, al sole, in riva al mare?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Heat churned in his dark gaze. “There is much we need to discuss, cara. Much I need to say to you. But we cannot stay here long. I checked from here to the river earlier, but I want to scout in the other direction now to ensure we are safe for at least a few hours.” He spun the knife and extended the handle. “Get dressed, but keep this close. I can speak to you here,” he brushed her temple with his knuckle, “when I return.”

  “You should take the knife,” Evangeline urged, suddenly fearful for him.

  “No need. I can smell them a mile away. That is how I tracked you yesterday. If I get any hint of their scent, I will return for you immediately. Keep the knife close.”

  His lips parted as he leaned in and cupped the back of her neck. A gentle kiss against her waiting mouth had her reaching for him. “Tu sei il mio cuore. Sempre.”

  “You say these beautiful words to me, but I don’t know what they mean. I feel like there’s so much you’re not telling me.” The masculine scent of him lingered between them.

  “I will be back in less than an hour. If you can stoke the fire a bit, I will return with some breakfast for you. We will talk more when I return.”

  He was nearly out of sight by the time Evangeline replied. “I’d kill for hash browns.” She thought she heard his faint laughter as he disappeared.

  Five minutes later, an intense stomach cramp doubled her over. She nearly cried out for him. Breathing slowly, she tried to force her pounding heart to calm. She’d eaten nothing since the previous morning, and after being shot, stabbed, and then drinking Nic’s blood, she supposed a little nausea made sense. She dug into her pack and found a piece of jerky. Her stomach lurched as she took a bite, but she forced herself to chew and washed the salty meat down with more water. The pain in her stomach lessened, but the vague sense of unease wouldn’t go away.

  Once she’d dressed, she scouted around the makeshift campground. Gathering some small twigs and branches to stoke the fire, she sank down and warmed her hands. Abruptly, the trembling stilled, and her heart rate dropped back to normal. The knot in her stomach faded away.

  “Evangeline, I am close. Do not fear.”

  As he headed back into the clearing, Evangeline tried to get up, but her knees buckled, and she stumbled, crashing against his hard chest. “Sorry.”

  Her stomach growled insistently as she registered the three-pound trout impaled on one of her arrows. “I’m so hungry. And that looks delicious.”

  Nic smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I apologize. I have not hunted in more than two centuries. Fishing did not take as much work.”

  “I like fish.” Once she’d gutted the trout and fashioned a spit, she took a seat next to him on a flat rock. His unease washed over her, amplifying her own. If only she could muster up enough courage to touch him or confess that she’d decided to go to Italy with him, but silence cut a vast chasm between them.

  When she rose to check on the fish, Nic tensed, reaching for her.

  “Relax,” she soothed. “I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

  “Fire will always terrify me, tesoro. Vampires fear little, save for silver and flames.”

  “What does that mean? Tesoro? You started calling me that yesterday.”

  Cheeks flushed, Nic clasped his hands in his lap, took a deep breath, and met her gaze. “Treasure. You are a treasure, Evangeline.”

  Sadness laced his tone. “There’s more.”

  “There is always more.” Nic turned away, resting his elbows on his knees.

  A bit of trout skin crackled in the flames, and Evangeline sighed. “Are you hungry?”

  “Si.”

  “For food?”

  After an uncomfortable pause, Nic nodded. “Si.”

  Despite her unease, Evangeline squeezed his forearm. “Nic, you have to tell me if you need blood. We have to trust each other right now. Whatever happens. I…I need you strong.”

  His warm fingers covered hers, and he turned, his amethyst eyes churning with emotion. “Healing you last night…it hastened my need for blood. But without further injuries, I should be fine until tomorrow. I will tell you if anything changes. I swear.”

  As unsure as she felt at the moment—about everything—she trusted Nic. She slid the trout off the spit and onto their small camping plate while Nic sipped from the canteen.

  Her first taste of fish made her moan. God, she’d never been so hungry. They ate in silence, Nic taking one bite for every three or four of hers.

  “So…uh, you said,” she sucked a flaky bit of fish from her fingers, “we’d talk more. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “I am very old, Evangeline.”

  “How old?” She narrowed her eyes at him. He didn’t look much older than she was.

  “I was made eight hundred and twenty-three years ago.”

  Evangeline dropped the piece of fish she was holding. “How old were you when you were…made?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “So you’re like thirty-two? In human years?”

  “More or less. We do not think in human years. Nor do we count those years in our age. Among my kind, I am eight hundred and twenty-three. As we age, we get stronger. I am one of the oldest of my kind still living. No one really knows when the first vampire was made or evolved, but many years ago we were
hunted. As we are now, I suppose.” Nic plucked a few flakes of fish off the bones.

  “When? Before you were turned?”

  “After. You see, my sire was part of a clan. I did not learn this until years later, but her clan aspired to make many more vampires. But Italians are a passionate group. We do not take kindly to being hunted. I was already living in Naples at the time, hiding the truth of what I was, but I heard the rumors. Townspeople formed…a sort of watch, I suppose. When a vampire killed, they would be hunted, mercilessly, and burned alive.”

  Evangeline shuddered. She had an idea what that felt like now.

  “Still, though, many new vampires were made. Sex played a role. Young ones often desired companions, for many quickly developed a disdain for humans and didn’t consider one worthy of sharing their bed.”

  Arching a brow, she shot him a sideways glance. “Not…worthy?”

  “I never felt that way,” he said quietly. Nic cleaned the last bite of fish off the bone and held the flakes out for her, close to her lips. With a hint of a frown, she leaned forward and accepted the offering. He retracted his hand quickly, and she thought she heard a muffled curse, but his lips hadn’t moved.

  “But that isn’t what we have to discuss, Evangeline. I told you only so you know that I am too old to feel the same pulls the younglings do—for sex and blood and propagating our kind. I am too old…to bond.”

  “Bond?”

  “Vampires are solitary creatures, cara. Once we reach a certain age, we no longer feel the need to share our lives with others. We are selfish, I suppose. But when we are newly made, we retain enough of our humanity to wish for such things. The young ones seek to bond—to fall in love. They do this to stave off a nearly endless lifetime of solitude. The process that confirms the bonding is long. It requires years of companionship and devotion. But once complete, the bonding is said to be one of the most beautiful experiences of one’s long life.”

  “What’s the vampire divorce rate like then?” Evangeline asked with a grin. “Humans can barely manage fifty percent over thirty or forty years. Even down in the catacombs we had them. Not legally of course, but I’ve seen three couples separate in my lifetime and there were only thirty-eight of us. The vampire divorce rate must be close to eighty, right?” She took a swig of water from the canteen.