by Noelle Ryan
Aly, you have to stop.
I could hear the voice in my head only distantly, and I couldn’t remember why it was familiar. I didn’t much care either. Then, suddenly, my stomach clenched in pain, and I fought to keep myself from doubling over.
He’s too caught up to stop you. If you don’t want to kill him, you must stop, the familiar voice said.
Kill who?
My question paused me just long enough for my senses to begin to recover, for me to notice I was curled over someone who was moaning my name, over and over, but more faintly each time. And then I snapped fully back into myself, and I realized it was Tom beneath me, that I was draining him, and that he didn’t seem to care.
I had no idea what to do, and wasn’t sure if I had enough time to get Valerie and Damian and explain. I released my hold on his neck, grateful to see the holes begin to mend but scared at how slowly it seemed to be happening. Tom’s eyes were still closed, and his mouth was still moving slightly, but I could no longer tell what he was saying.
“Tom?” I said, shaking him. “Tom, I think I drank too much. What do I do?” I shook him again. “Tom!”
Desperate, I sliced my teeth across my wrist and placed it against his mouth. At first I felt nothing but the skin stitching itself up again, so I sliced it open again, wider this time, and returned it to his lips. This time I felt the light brush of his tongue, and slowly his lips fastened around the wound and he began to drink. I suddenly realized that the electric pull I’d felt go through me last night was happening again, that it was the same white noise that had overwhelmed me moments before moving back through me and into him. It felt, suddenly, far more intimate than kissing, or even sex, to be sharing this with him, to trade this pulse of energy between us and have it running through both our veins. Did this happen at every feeding, or only between vampires drawing from one another? And would I ever be able to control it without Dorothy’s help?
Tom’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked, oddly, both tranquil and confused. He stopped drinking, slowly licking the wound on my wrist and then sitting up to face me, keeping my hand resting between his on his lap.
“What happened?” he asked. “I remember your teeth sliding into me, and this incredible rush, and then…well, and then everything gets hazy.”
I looked away, ashamed at my loss of control. He’d had no apparent problems at stopping when he drank from me, last night or tonight. But I’d almost killed him. I felt terrible.
“I drank too much. Everything disappeared in this white rush and I forgot what I was doing. I think,” I shuddered, forcing myself to return his gaze. It was important he know how close I’d been, how out of control I was. “I think I could have killed you.”
Tom, however, didn’t look the least bit concerned at my admission.
“But you didn’t. You stopped and returned blood to me. Since I just drank last night I should be fully recovered in a matter of minutes.” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Because feeding from another vampire doesn’t satisfy the real blood hunger, except under the circumstances we’ve already talked about, it can be harder to know when to stop at first.”
I just stared at him. He colored slightly, and continued talking.
“The fault, if there is any, is mine. I’ve never been bitten by someone I was so, um” he paused. “So attracted to. I didn’t realize I’d be too overwhelmed to stop you if you went too far. I’m sorry.”
“You’re apologizing to me?” I snapped, my guilt and confusion momentarily turning to anger. “I almost freaking killed you, Tom—hell, the only reason I didn’t was because of Dorothy—and you are apologizing to me?!”
It wasn’t until Tom looked at me, puzzled, and said “Dorothy?” that I realized what I’d said. Well crap. So much for keeping my little chats with my dead ancestor a secret. Now it was my turn to get embarrassed. I was starting to feel like we were playing a game of awkward-glance hot potato.
“My, uh, clairsentient great-grandmother.”
“How could a dead woman stop you from draining me?" he asked.
“She sort of visits me sometimes,” I stammered, feeling like an idiot.
“Visits you?” Tom spun, studying every corner of the room. “She was here? How? Where is she now? “
“Not like—I don’t see her, or anything, I just hear her voice in my head.”
“How do you know it’s not just your conscience, or your subconscious, or something like that then?” He didn’t sound critical, just curious.
“I’m not sure. I just do, I guess. It doesn’t sound like I sound when I’m just talking to myself. Not that I talk to myself a lot or anything,” I finished lamely.
Tom studied me for a moment. “I think you need to tell Damian about this.”
I shook my head. “I’m not ready to tell him yet—his expectations for me are already so high, you know? Plus what if Valerie was less than thrilled to discover that someone he says he loved is now making guest appearances in my head?”
“Maybe,” Tom said. “But he’ll find out about it eventually, and it would be better if it was because you told him than some other way.”
“You don’t have to tell him though, do you?” I asked, suddenly concerned that Tom would be obliged to share my secret.
“Not unless he gives me some kind of direct command that would force it, no. And commands aren't really his style unless they're necessary.”
I relaxed. “Thank you."
I leaned forward until our knees, both crossed Indian style, touched. The touch immediately resparked the desire that had been dampened by Dorothy’s visit and our conversation.
He leaned forward to meet me, and we kissed, slowly standing and working our way over to the bed. We’d just gotten settled lying down when he tugged my head back gently, our gazes meeting.
“I trust you, Aly—”
I started to open my mouth in protest, but he stopped me with the gentle pressure of his fingers against my lips.
“No, wait.” He paused, and took a breath. “I won’t pressure you to bite me again, even if it did feel insanely good.” A slight tremor shook him, and my body, unconsciously remembering those same sensations, mirrored it. “But I want you to know that I trust you, and if you ever want to try again, you don’t even need to ask.”
“But what if I lose control?” I said, thinking I didn’t even know where or who I was, so how could I know when to stop?
“There are plenty of precautions we could take. If we both fed just before, for example, you wouldn’t be hungry and drinking much of my blood would be like trying to eat a second meal just after finishing a first.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to talk any more. The texture of his body pressed against mine was reminding me of all the other things we could be doing.
We didn’t emerge for the rest of the night. I enjoyed myself too much to worry about what Damian and Valerie might think of any noise that was escaping the guest room, but I did feel slightly bad for Beckett, who I suspect hid in the bathroom for hours after we’d fallen asleep.
Sixteen
I woke up feeling optimistic. I was snuggled up in bed with a man—well, a vampire, but a definitely very male vampire—who was both sexy and caring. And my plans for the day included reconciling with my best friend and, hopefully, resolving the horn/Cesar/elf mystery. The possibility that tonight might find me once again curled up with Tom, but this time without any power-hungry vampires trying to kill me or disappointed best friends angry at me, filled me with an elation that was better than sex.
Well, better than sex with anyone but Tom, maybe.
I rolled over to face him, hoping he might already be awake as well. He wasn’t, but he looked so sweet in his sleep that I ended up just laying there, staring at him.
“I can feel you looking at me, you know,” he murmured drowsily, and rolled onto his back to stretch. Then he rolled back, and started planting lightning-fast butterfly kisses across my face, neck, and shoulders. I laughed as he pulled th
e sheets down just enough to plant a raspberry on my stomach.
“I have to say that butterfly kisses and raspberries were not what came to mind when I considered taking a vampire lover,” I said, smiling.
“Oh really?” he asked archly, flopping back onto his side to look at me. "Let me guess: I'm supposed to be all inscrutable, dark and brooding?"
I laughed, nodding.
“So," he continued, "you’ve considered taking vampire lovers frequently, I suppose?”
I flushed, still unwilling to share my little vampire novel obsession with him, and then realized that flattery is always a good distraction.
“Just you,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him squarely on the mouth, then slowly trailing my kisses down his neck, across his shoulder, along his chest, and onto his stomach—where I then blew some raspberries of my own.
“You’re not feeling especially melodramatic this afternoon either, I see,” he said laughing.
“Nope,” I said, grinning as I lifted my head. “Looks like we both woke up on the right side of the bed today.”
“It would seem so,” he murmured, lightly running his hand along my side as I stretched back out. My eyes closed so I could better follow the lovely feelings he was tracing up and down my skin.
“Hey Tom?” I asked, my eyes opening as I remembered one of the things I’d been wondering about last night. “When we—well, when I was drinking from you, it felt like there was this white electric current filling me, and when you drank from me, it felt like it was flowing back into you.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, still focused on lightly tracing every contour along my side. I shivered involuntarily, trying to stay focused before I forgot completely what I had wanted to ask.
“Is that—well, is that how it always feels when you drink, or when someone drinks from you?”
Tom’s hand paused, resting against the curve of my hip, and his eyes turned to mine.
“Not completely. When you drink from a human, you feel something—comparing it to an electric current seems as apt as any other metaphor, I guess—I’ve always thought of it as something akin to life force, or chi, or something like that. When you drink from a vampire it’s both more concentrated and yet less satisfying to that core hunger. It never really made sense to me why.”
I nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“If there’s an attraction there," he said, "the feeling turns into something different—far more sensual, obviously. I’ve never traded blood with a vampire I was attracted to though, before you, so I don’t know if it’s just our mutual attraction or something else that made things so much stronger between us.” He paused, looking at me. “It was definitely more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before.”
That made me feel slightly better about having lost control.
“So when you go out and,” I paused, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt, “and feed, it doesn’t feel the same?”
Tom laughed, his eyes crinkling in a way that made me want to kiss them. “Am I detecting a hint of jealousy?”
I looked away, embarrassed, but he gently gripped my jaw and faced me towards him again.
“No, Aly, it is nothing like what we shared. I promise.”
I hated that I cared, hated that I felt so much better hearing that. I’d only really known Tom for a few days—I didn't count the time he'd spent as my student, not really. Granted, it was a few days that had been spent almost entirely in one another’s company, but I still felt foolish for being so attached. I pressed my head against his chest so he wouldn’t see how ridiculous I felt.
Should I tell her just how different it is, how strongly I feel? Or would that scare her?
Startled, I pushed back so hard I fell off the edge of the bed, and then hastily scrambled to my feet.
“What did you just say?”
”I promised that feeding is nothing like what we shared,” he said, looking confused.
“No, after that.”
Tom's forehead wrinkled. I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
“Holy crap!” I stared at him in disbelief. Was I really hearing his thoughts? I’d never heard anyone’s thoughts—well, except dead people’s. And Cesar’s. Oh shit. Was Cesar somehow nearby, and pretending to be Tom as he projected thoughts into me?
Tom’s eyes went wide.
“Are you somehow whispering without moving your mouth?” he asked.
I froze.
“No,” I said. Wait, so was Tom hearing me now too? How could Cesar be doing that? “Are you…are you hearing what I’m thinking?”
“I’m not sure. Are you thinking about hearing my thoughts, and about Cesar?”
“Yes,” I whispered, staring at him. “Had you thought something about being afraid to scare me by telling me about your feelings?”
He colored, but didn’t look away. “Yes,” he said.
“Is it—could it be Cesar?” I asked, beginning to snatch up and throw on clothing. If Cesar was nearby I did not want to confront him naked. Tom started scrambling for his clothes as well.
“I don’t think so," he said, "but I’m not sure. I think we better talk to Damian and Valerie about this.”
I nodded, quickly finger-combed my hair, and followed Tom downstairs.
Seventeen
A few minutes later, we were sitting with Damian and Valerie in the kitchen. Fortunately Luis and Sam hadn’t made an appearance today; I didn’t particularly want to discuss this with them there. Equally fortunately, I discovered Damian had restocked the blood supply in the fridge. I drank while Tom caught them up to speed.
“So last night you exchanged blood, and slept together, and now it seems you can hear one another’s thoughts?” Damian asked.
We both nodded.
“Forgive me for prying, but just how much blood did you exchange?”
“I, uh,” I stammered. “I accidentally lost control and drank far too much. I replenished it though,” I added, hating how defensive I sounded.
“With your own blood?”
“Yes,” Tom and I said simultaneously.
“Then I don’t think this has anything to do with Cesar,” Damian said, smiling. “I think you, quite accidentally, completed the bond that would normally occur between maker and made. In the process, Alyson somehow managed to transfer the telepathy that Cesar has granted to his line.” Tom and I exchanged looks, but Damian wasn’t finished. “It may also be that you have weakened Cesar’s hold on Alyson in the process, which would be excellent news.”
“Wait,” I said, as other implications of what Damian was saying occurred to me. “Does that mean Tom can now assert his will over me the way Cesar was? The way Tom couldn’t before?”
“I have reasons to doubt that," Damian said, "but there is only one way to be certain. Thomas, try to give her an order.”
I glanced at Tom and then away again, appalled. If he could order me around there was no way I could be involved with him, no matter how much I enjoyed it. That would just be creepy.
Aly, come to me.
Tom’s voice echoed in my head, and for a split-second I felt my body begin to turn, my knees begin to bend. And then it simply stopped. I looked up at Tom, relieved to see that he looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
What just happened? The feeling of compulsion ended as quickly as it began, I thought to Tom.
You didn’t do anything to stop me? he asked
No—with Cesar I had to get angry, and really work at it, to keep him out of my head.
“Would you two mind having an actual conversation so we can be a party to what is going on as well?” Valerie said.
“Oh, uh, sorry, my fault,” I muttered. “I was asking Tom what had happened—I felt the start of a compulsion and then it just stopped. With Cesar I had to get really angry in order to stop him. But with Tom it was like it just stopped on its own.”
Damian cast an appraising glance at Tom.
“Did you feel too uncomfortable to maintain your co
mmand, Thomas?” Damian asked, arching one eyebrow so perfectly that he looked like a parody of himself, and I almost laughed.
“I—I honestly don’t know. I felt her response to it and then—" Tom paused. “It was like tugging on a rope that suddenly disappeared from my hands.”
An idea struck me. “With Cesar I noticed he could only influence me when I was afraid. Perhaps Tom can’t maintain a hold over me because I’m not afraid of him, or because I’m not frightened right now in general.”
Now Damian turned his arched eyebrow to me, and I once again had to suppress the urge to laugh.
“Really?" Damian asked. "He could only influence you when you were scared? And you could use anger to force him out? Interesting.”
“Damian, no offense," I said, "but I hate it when you give me the whole bug-under-glass treatment. Could you just be direct, please?”
I noticed a small grin lift up the corners of Valerie’s mouth, and Tom turned away with a brief coughing fit. Damian simply nodded.
“I apologize, Alyson. On occasion I forget how valued directness is in modern times. So, to be direct, I imagine you are correct that your emotional state affects Tom’s ability to influence you, just as it did Cesar’s. Unless you have cause to get truly frightened around Tom, he will probably never be able to influence you, and even then he won’t have as much control as makers usually have. We have no way of knowing how much of this weakened control is due to the unorthodox way you were turned and how much is due to your unique abilities, but the influence of your emotions makes me think it may have more to do with the latter.”
“Why?" I asked. "I’m not empathic, I’m clairsentient.”
“Are you familiar with the concept of auras?” Damian said.
“You mean the whole new-age oh your aura has pretty colors thing?” I chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“New Age?” Damian began, but Valerie cut him off with a quick shake of her head. Wow, he really was out of touch with modern times.
“I’m unfamiliar with your term," he continued, "or the idea of aura’s having pretty colors, but auras do exist. Some people may see colors in them, some simply see them as a haze or distortion around the body”