Darkest Hour (New Adult Paranormal Romance)

by Bullard, Catherine

  “Thomas.” He seemed to sober, as if he realized once more how little they knew about each other. “I’m a fisherman.”

  She nodded. “I know. I have been watching you for some time.”

  Thomas stiffened. “What for?”

  Elsbeth rose, her supple body moving gracefully. “I’m not sure. I was on my way home one night when I saw you, sitting by the lake and looking at peace with the world.” She thought it best not to mention what she had been doing; the fewer reminders she gave him about what she was the better, for now. “All I know is that something about the dreamer’s expression on your face tugged at my heart, and it still hasn’t let go.”

  She brushed her cool fingers gently against his cheek, and then left the room.

  * * *

  Thomas had a fitful night of sleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind would not settle down. The dichotomy that had been presented to him in Elsbeth was simply too large to ignore. He’d never really been certain about the existence of vampires, but the stories he’d been told had taught him they were nothing more than soulless beasts who did not value human life, damned by the Gods to forever be dependent on the blood of others, and to never walk in the sun again.

  The vampire who had attacked him certainly fit that bill. If it weren’t for Elsbeth, Thomas was sure he’d be dead—or worse, turned. But Elsbeth not only saved him, but by her own admission had been watching him for weeks. He’d been at the mercy of a vampire for countless days and he’d never known. Chills wracked him at the thought; it reminded him of just how helpless and mortal the human race really was. If she’d been the type of vampire told of in the stories, he would be long dead by now.

  But she wasn’t. Not only did she save him, clean him, and offer him shelter, but she also fed the impoverished families in his village. He’d been in her home, unconscious and defenseless for untold hours, and she could have drained him at any time. But she’d only shown him kindness and compassion.

  Guilt nipped at the edges of his mind at the brash way he’d treated her, but it was drowned out by a swarm of questions and fears. What would happen to him now? She’d said that he was developing super-human powers, but what did that entail? Would he ever be able to walk in the sun again? To go back to his normal life? Would he have to survive on blood for the rest of his life?

  CHAPTER 3

  “So what should I expect?” Thomas asked the next day when Elsbeth came in, carrying a tray. He tried not to notice how her hips swayed as she crossed the room, or how the sky blue velvet dress hugged her curves, or how her generous cleavage was exposed when she leaned down and set a bowl of piping hot porridge on the small bedside table.

  “What do you mean?” She pulled up a small wooden stool and sat, folding her hands in her lap. For some reason he found himself wishing she would sit on the bed, closer to him, then shook his head. It was good that at least one of them had the sense to put some distance between them.

  “You said that I was developing super human powers,” he reminded her. “What exactly should I expect? Will I start growing fangs? Thirsting for blood? Is superhuman healing the only ‘gift’ I have to look forward to, or will there be others?”

  Elsbeth flinched at the heavy sarcasm in his words, though she couldn’t blame him. “I’m not entirely sure,” she confessed. “It’s different for each person. It depends on what extent the vampire venom bonds to your blood. The more it does, the more vampric you become.”

  Thomas brought a spoonful of porridge to his mouth, but even though he could smell the honey she’d flavored it with, he only tasted hot ashes on his tongue. “I’m honestly not sure what I’m supposed to think about this.”

  Elsbeth swallowed and dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen to you.”

  Thomas sighed. “There’s nothing to be done about it now, I suppose. I wish it hadn’t happened, but unless there’s some way to undo it I have no choice but to deal with it.”

  Elsbeth nodded, a small smile gracing her lips, but the look in her eyes was still cautious, wary—an expression similar to that you’d find in a beaten dog’s eyes. Thomas knew that he should feel glad she was so obviously remorseful, but instead he wished that she would look at him the way she’d done the first time he’d awoken, with kindness and compassion rather than guilt and remorse. As though he were a human being rather than some terrible mistake she’d made.

  You’re not a human anymore, remember?

  “Is there any way I can get out of this bed?” He asked, trying to steer his mind away from the painful reminder. “I will go mad, confined to this bed all the time.”

  Elsbeth nodded. “You are free to have the run of my house, but I strongly advise against going outside until I have confirmation from my Seethe Mistress that no harm shall come to you. Malachi is still out there, no doubt waiting for an opportune moment to strike. And the Mistress is unaware of your presence as of right now, so you have no protection save me.”

  “When are you going to see her?”

  Elsbeth smiled. “I do believe I have an appointment with her shortly.”

  * * *

  “Mistress.” Elsbeth curtsied deeply, her head nearly grazing the plush carpet covering the hardwood floor. She could feel Amelia’s gaze on her, heavy with power, but she held the pose, refusing to so much as tremble. It did not pay to show fear in front of any vampire, especially one more powerful than oneself.

  “You may rise,” the Seethe Mistress said, and Elsbeth lifted her head, allowing her skirts to fall to her sides again and trace the carpet with their hems. “What brings you here today, my child?”

  The Seethe Mistress referred to all her members as children, regardless of whether or not she’d personally sired them. Elsbeth’s sire had been executed for breaking the Seethe laws, so in a way Amelia was the closest thing she had to a sire now. Though she was nearly three hundred years old, Amelia looked no older than the twenty-two years she’d lived before being turned. Her dark red hair was thick and lustrous, her emerald eyes glowed in the candlelight, and her voluptuous figure was showcased to perfection in the black satin gown she wore. Rubies winked at her ears, wrists and throat, and the large black stone she wore on her third finger shimmered as she lifted her hand.

  “Mistress, I come bearing terrible news. An innocent was attacked by one of our own last night.”

  Amelia’s eyes flashed red, and she sat up straighter on her high-backed, ornately carved wooden throne. “Who?”

  Elsbeth swallowed, uncomfortable with the rage in her Mistress’s eyes even though she knew it was not meant for her. “It was Malachi. I was out hunting the other night, at the edge of a forest, watching a human male. Malachi was nearby, and decided that my interest was unnatural, and attempted to remove the problem… forcefully.” She decided there was no need to mention she’d been watching him for weeks—even though her Mistress had banned the killing of innocents, she would still find Elsbeth’s behavior to be strange. “He is jealous that I have continued to spurn his ‘amorous’ advances, and decided to take it out on the human. I managed to keep Malachi from killing him, but too much blood was taken.”

  “He will become a half-breed, then.” Amelia spoke calmly, but Elsbeth wasn’t fooled into thinking she’d calmed down; her Mistress’s eyes continued to burn bright red.

  Elsbeth nodded. “I would like to petition you to grant him your protection. Malachi will no doubt try to come after him again, once he discovers that I have taken him in.”

  Amelia arched a brow. “Malachi will not be doing much of anything for some time. I will see to it that he is punished most thoroughly for the infraction. In any case, the protection is granted since the damage inflicted was done by one of my own. I assume you have decided to continue taking care of this new half-breed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I am formally assigning you as his mentor and caretaker.”

  Elsbeth bowed, relief nearly making her swoon. “Thank you so much, Mistress. I am
forever grateful to you for your wisdom.”

  Amelia waved her bejeweled fingers. “Save your flattery, child. I know they are not empty words, but I hear them so often from the honeyed-tongues of your fellows that I grow weary.”

  Elsbeth smiled. “I do apologize. I shall take my leave now.”

  Amelia nodded. “When he is on his feet again, I want to meet this new half-vampire of yours. Be sure to bring him to me.”

  “I will see to it.”

  * * *

  When Elsbeth set foot inside her home, she instantly knew something was wrong. A chill of foreboding rushed down her spine, accompanied by an icy tingling in her hands and feet. A faint groan wafted from the hallway, and she sprinted towards the master bedroom, fear clutching her chest and squeezing her throat tight. Had Malachi already come to finish what she’d started? Had she been a fool to leave Thomas here unguarded, even for just a few moments?

  She burst through the bedroom door to see Thomas lying on his back, face pale, cold sweats breaking out over his skin to soak the sheets. His breathing was shallow, and when he lifted his head to look up his eyes gleamed red.

  “I’m… I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he rasped. “I feel so thirsty, but I don’t know what I need.”

  Elsbeth rushed over to his side, her fingers flying to the buttons at the top of her high-necked gown as she sat. “The blood fever has taken you, she explained, hurriedly exposing her neck. “You will have to drink from me in order for it to subside.”

  Even through his obvious suffering he was able to twist his expression to mirror the distaste flashing in his eyes. “I don’t want to drink blood. Besides, don’t I have to drink from a human?”

  Elsbeth gently gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him forward. “I have fed recently, so it’s all right. I have heard that newly-made half-vampires often start out by eating from their makers—or in this case, another vampire.” She ignored the insidious voice in her head that pointed out she may as well have made him considering her part in this disaster.

  He protested feebly as she pressed his face into the hollow where her neck and shoulder met, but the flash of hunger in his eyes told her that he wouldn’t be able to resist the fresh blood coursing through the veins near her throat. Her suspicions were proven correct when his hot, wet tongue snaked out, trailing a path along one of the tendons in her neck. Her nipples pearled instantly, and a shiver wracked her body—this time one of pleasure, rather than fear. She had never fed another before, so she was unsure as to whether this was a normal reaction, or simply an extension of her infatuation with him.

  His hands curled around her shoulders, drawing her against him, and she curled her feet into his lap, tilting her head back to give him better access. His fangs slid into her as if her skin was gossamer, and the pain was fleeting, replaced by a pleasure that started as a tingling, then spread throughout her entire body. Her breasts grew heavy, the space between her thighs grew moist, and a moan escaped her lips as she felt his manhood swell beneath the sheet, pressing against her inner thigh.

  She didn’t know how long he fed from her, too lost in the haze of pleasure that swamped her. She’d been told that depending on the blood chemistry between two vampires, a feeding could range from painful to neutral to pleasurable. It seemed she’d gotten the positive side of that spectrum, and Thomas wasn’t even a full vampire.

  Eventually he lifted his head from her jugular, sliding his hand beneath her skull to push her head up to meet him. His eyes burned like white-hot coals, his thirst satisfied, but lust burning bright in his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but was unable to form any words. Though she’d known it was wrong, a part of her had yearned for that handsome face to look at her just the way he was now—as though he wanted to devour her, and certainly not the way Malachi had tried to do to him.

  “Elsbeth,” he whispered hoarsely, tracing her cheeks with his fingertip. His forefinger glided over her bottom lip, and her tongue darted out to taste his flesh—salty, sweet, and warm. His groan of pleasure sent another rush of moisture between her legs, and she tilted her head to meet his lips as they came crashing down onto hers.

  The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, made even more seductive by Thomas’s own taste than it had been when she’d sucked those evil humans dry. Tangy copper threaded with smoky spice and man. It was addicting and she couldn’t get enough. Fingers tangling in his hair, she pressed his hard body closer against hers, no longer clammy and pale but hot with the lifeblood she’d just fed him flowing through his veins. Her thighs clamped on either side of his hips, and they both groaned as she began rocking her core against his shaft.

  “Oh Gods, Elsbeth,” he groaned into her mouth. “I… I don’t…”

  The desire in his voice was as great as her own, but it was the threads of uncertainty she heard that had her stopping cold. What was she doing? He had just been attacked, nearly drained by Malachi, and here she was riding him like… like some… like some harlot. Or an animal in mating heat, completely selfish, with no regard to his feelings.

  “I’m so sorry.” She scrambled off him and the bed, tugging her dress around her hips and keeping her eyes trained near her feet. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you like this. Forgive me.”

  Without once looking at him, she turned and fled the room.

  CHAPTER 4

  Bracing himself, Thomas turned the door handle and pulled it open, allowing sunlight to flood the doorway and hit him directly in his face. He waited for his skin to catch on fire, but when only warmth and peace flooded him, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him. His lips curved as the morning breeze tickled his skin, and birdsong cheerfully met his ears.

  His legs trembled with the effort of holding him up, but he wouldn’t let that bring him down. He could stand in the sun! He would not be doomed to stay to the shadows, to only be allowed to walk the Earth when the sun had died. Maybe he might even be able to go home, eventually.

  Don’t be foolish, a voice in his head chided. You’ve no idea what other transformations your body will undergo. You’ve already exhibited a dependency on blood.

  An image flashed in his head, of Elsbeth straddling his lap, the pale column of her throat curved back as he drank from her, her sweet, dark blood saturating his tongue as he sucked and sucked and sucked. He hadn’t seen her face, but he’d heard her moans, felt her hardened nipples abrade his bare chest, and the combination of feminine desire and sweet blood had his own body responding. Kissing her had been a nearly transcendent experience—he’d never met a woman who tasted so good. And when she’d started rubbing herself against him…

  Gods. He would have rucked up her skirt and pushed himself inside her if she hadn’t stopped them both. Sex would only complicate their already strange relationship. He didn’t know what to think of her. She’d saved him, and yet by her own admission her very presence had caused his life to forever be altered. She was a vampire, and he’d been human. She should have had no business coming onto his land and spying on him, especially since she didn’t feed off innocent humans.

  And yet she wasn’t a monster. She’d been kind to him, and had never once responded to his barbs in anger, but shown only humility and guilt—an emotion he’d bet no one associated with vampires. She fed the poor and the starving, and preyed on the evil. She’d not only given him food and clothing, but had shared blood from her own body with him.

  She’d admitted that she was infatuated with him, yet at the first sign of resistance from him she’d bolted, and he wasn’t sure why. He might’ve been weak, but he wasn’t an invalid. Was it her guilt that had gotten in the way? He honestly wasn’t certain why he’d resisted. It hadn’t been because he didn’t want her—the fact that his body ached for her even now was proof that he wasn’t immune to her charms. But the intensity of his reaction to her had startled him, and he hadn’t been sure if it was really him, or the bloodlust.

  He knew now that he’d been wrong, since he was
standing outside in broad daylight, his mind and body clear, and he still wanted her. She was inside, asleep in another room—he’d heard her light breathing as he’d passed by a closed door, which wasn’t something he’d have detected before he’d been bitten.

  A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he had to make an effort to stay upright. Looking down at his bare torso, he was surprised to find that his chest and arms were a bright pink—sunburn. He winced—that was going to hurt later. A wave of sadness washed over him; it seemed that even though he could stand in the sun, he had developed sensitivity towards it. As a human he had bronzed in the sun; the last time he’d gotten sunburned he’d been a child.

  Shaking his head, he stumbled back inside the house. Elsbeth was right; he needed to rest. He just wished that his life weren’t so damned confusing right now.

  * * *

  Elsbeth woke the moment the sun slipped below the horizon; it’s harmful rays once more out of reach. Yawning, she stretched, the sheet slipping down her torso to reveal her thin, black nightgown. She knew many of her brethren liked to sleep in coffins, but the extra protection they provided wasn’t worth the discomfort of being entrapped and enclosed in such a small space. She supposed it was probably because she was barely a year old, but she still liked sleeping on a full bed with all the trimmings. A coffin couldn’t compare with a featherbed, or with the mountain of stuffed pillows and comforters that kept her warm.

  The only thing missing from that bed was a man.

  Sighing, she slipped her legs out from beneath the blankets and touched her feet to the cold, wooden floor. There WAS a man, and he WAS in her bed. Why she hadn’t put him in the guest room to begin with she wasn’t sure, but it was her own fault she’d given him her room and she didn’t want to seem rude by asking him to move. Especially not after what she’d done to him.