“Yes, I am, thank you.”
“Good. I would hate for all my effort to have been in vain. You know, you are a lot heavier than you look. Mind if I eat?” Without waiting for permission, Shawn unwrapped a burger and dug in the bag for fries. “I poured some of my blood into you, and you seemed to keep it down. I don’t suppose you want to shed some light for me on what is really going on with you, do you?” He sounded hopeful.
I guess I owe him that much. Valentin caught his head between his hands again, hoping that the pressure exerted would lessen the throbbing pain in his temples.
“Hey, you okay?”
A warm hand landed on his shoulder, the touch gentle and soothing. He fought the instinct to lean into the warmth, to seek comfort and maybe some relief, and jerked his shoulder away.
“I’m fine.” The words were harsh and for a second he regretted them. Why was Shawn torturing him like this? There was nothing special about him, nothing to make someone spare him a second glance. That had to be the only reason he was here. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. Especially not Shawn’s. Blood boiled in his veins as his anger rose. Power simmered across his skin and the air around him crackled.
He stood up, too fast for his throbbing headache, but stayed his ground. On his part, Shawn didn’t even flinch.
“You want to know what happened? You want all the sordid details? Are you sure you can handle them?” With every sentence the distance between reduced, until their lips were almost touching. “Why don’t I show you?” He hissed the last words, and grabbed Shawn’s head between his palms.
****
Shawn held his breath the entire time Valentin spoke, afraid to interrupt his little spitfire of a mate. Somehow he knew he might never get another chance at unraveling one of the many layers Valentin had wrapped around him. And for someone who twenty-four hours ago would have had a panic attack just at the mention of the word mate, he sure was falling fast. He wondered briefly how he would know when he’d hit the bottom or what would it feel like, but he decided that it wasn’t a concern for the time being.
He watched Valentin’s advance toward him, his gaze glued to Valentin’s. Blood boiled as his cock hardened at the way the dark eyes in front of him turned black. His senses tingled at the whirl of power Valentin was conjuring around himself. Cold palms clasped his head, pain stabbing his skull. His own hands sprung upward to pry the offending fingers away from his skin and ended up holding on for dear life as he was swept away in memories of pain and blood.
The cheap motel room dimmed, disappearing in a haze, its shape shifting, rearranging itself into new patterns, as the dirty beige of the walls changed into clean, light colors and the dull ceiling melted into intricate patterns. He didn’t know much about carpeting, but the gold-leaf woodwork was so perfect it could only have been handmade by the best artist in the world. He wanted to touch it, to run his fingers over the delicate pattern, but he had no say over his body.
A hand reached out to rest against the wall. Shawn knew it belonged to him, but the shape of it was wrong. Slender, with long, elegant fingers and flawless skin. It was all golden and smooth and so different from his own. Fingers trailed along the wall, the paper cold under the touch.
What is going on? He could hear himself think, but the little voice in his head sounded somehow hollow. As the words in his head faded, the colors around him sharpened, textures clearer than ever. Scents assaulted his senses, familiar and yet foreign, like he was absorbing them through a different filter. The house smelled like leather-bound tomes, polished wood, wine, canvas, oils, and melted candle wax. So that’s how history smells. There was magic, power, the kind that surrounded only vampires and wizards. And above everything else, there was the scent of the living, and sweet, warm blood flowing through young bodies.
His nose lifted, sniffing the air, and his fangs descended, as hunger rose deep inside him, thirst and arousal all mixed into one. He steered toward the source of the sweetest scent in the world and realized he was seeing things through Valentin’s eyes.
Valentin carried him through a wide, bright hallway, passing huge rooms decorated in stylish, heavy furniture, paintings gracing each wall and rugs so thick the foot could disappear entirely in them. It was like walking through a museum, but one still very much inhabited. The house seemed alive, a breathing organism with dozens of different heartbeats and ethereal imprints of both mortals and immortals. For those who knew how to read them, they told stories old and new, of life and death. He sank further in Valentin’s conscience, a sudden urgency pushing him to know more.
The scents changed, fear laced the thick arousal in the air, and the grunts and muffled cries of release became strangled pleas for mercy. For a moment, as Valentin picked up the pace and steered toward the source of the ruckus, Shawn felt himself a spectator at a bad horror movie, screaming pointlessly at the screen, trying to get the protagonist to change his mind.
Valentin stilled, sniffing the air. His vision became even sharper, more focused. Here we go.
His lover went into full stealth mode, his movements causing no stir in the air. They passed from room to room to a large, elegant stairway. Shawn caught a glimpse in a mirror in the hallway and was amazed at Valentin’s looks. The image was nothing like the Valentin he knew. The man in the mirror was lithe and graceful, pitch-black eyes sharp and curious, the skin molten-gold instead of sickly pale. Only the hair remained the same, blond and unruly.
At the base of the staircase, Valentin paused, listening intently. Muffled voices came from one of the rooms above, but the words were foreign, guttural. Valentin hesitated. The voices upstairs increased in intensity and sounds of a fight reached his ears. A loud crash sounded, and Valentin bolted up the stairs.
Okay, what was he missing? Shouldn’t he be running in the other direction?
Valentin moved at an incredible speed, and somehow he managed to do it quietly and gracefully. He flew up the stairs, bypassed the first floor and took on the second in a blur. Valentin paused in front of the last door on the right with his palm pressed hard against the wood. Shawn couldn’t read his mind, but he was attuned to Valentin’s mood. His lover was worried.
Now would be a good time to leave. Come on. Turn around. No, no, no!
Valentin pushed the door open and stopped in his tracks. There was no one in there, though Shawn could have sworn he’d heard voices just moments before. The room was trashed. Clothes were everywhere, most of them torn to shreds, personal objects scattered, furniture damaged beyond repair. The crash they had heard earlier had probably been caused by the armoire falling over.
Valentin sniffed the air again. It was his space, no doubt about it. His scent was everywhere. There were traces of others, too. Some of them just passing through, but some stayed longer. The pang of jealousy stabbing Shawn’s stomach was not welcome, and he pushed it aside, focusing on what his lover was showing him.
Two vampires had passed recently through the room, most likely the ones who trashed the place. He imprinted their scent in his brain for future reference, though the way Valentin perceived and processed scents was slightly different from Shawn.
Valentin advanced into the room and picked up the broken armoire, setting it back on its feet. The thing might have weighed a ton, and yet the move was smooth and fluid. Valentin ran his fingers over the intricate pattern, sorrow and rage mixed in his soul. Sentimental value, no doubt, though, it could have been expensive, too.
Hot, searing pain shot through Valentin, doubling him over. The room disappeared in a red haze, leaving Valentin confused. A new wave of pain stabbed at him, more powerful than before, and it took longer to overcome.
Valentin whirled on his heels and bolted through the door, a sense of impending doom choking him, everything else forgotten.
Valentin tore through the hallway at blinding speed. He flew down the stairs, heading to the basement. If the first floor was peaceful, the ground floor was a whole different story. He stopped on the last step, shooti
ng a glance at the library’s opened doors. He sniffed the air intently. All Shawn could see were rows of heavy books, but the air carried the nauseating stench of fresh death.
Valentin bounded in the other direction. A few more twists and turns had Shawn staring at a barren wall at the end of a narrow corridor.
Valentin pushed a hidden lever and the stone block slid silently backward, revealing a narrow staircase.
Valentin started his ascent at a slower pace, his senses fully alert. Shawn’s neck tingled in warning. Oh, not good. Go back! This is a really bad idea. Please, go back!
They reached the top of the stairs, Shawn’s guts screaming warnings at him. He didn’t want to see what came next. He wanted out. The animal inside him recoiled, trying to break loose of Valentin’s hold, claws scratching at the fingers trapping Shawn’s forehead. The link faltered for a moment, then Valentin increased the pressure, and the connection between them grew stronger. Dull pain, hurt, doubt, denial, fear for his life, uncertainty, and a tiny spark of hope all slammed into Shawn, more powerful than before.
Memories filled his mind, again taking him back to the top of the narrow staircase, in front of another wooden door, the exact same place he’d tried to escape. Valentin reached out and turned the knob. The door opened.
Scents assaulted him, more blood and violence and the presence of the same two immortals picked out in Valentin’s quarters earlier. Valentin rushed in. Shawn got an unobstructed view of the room. Blood. It was everywhere. Covering the floor and walls.
Can all this come from just one body?
Valentin fell to his knees next to a body.
The corpse was fresh, his wounds still seeping. Valentin let out a pitiful whimper as he turned the body over. It belonged to a fast-aging, forty-some, unremarkable man. Weren’t bloodsuckers supposed to be handsome? It looked like he had been mauled by a rabid bear. The clothes were shredded, pieces scattered around. Nasty cuts covered the torso and arms. The throat one massive gaping wound. The smell coming off him was wrong. Chemical compounds, some botanicals, none of which Shawn could identify.
Valentin ran his hands above the corpse, almost touching it, and magic crackled. The power flared and died down as the caster’s anxiety level increased. His sobs grew louder. His hands trembled. He brought his left wrist to his lips and bit down hard, blood running from the corners of his mouth. He placed the wound over the worst gash, his lips mumbling prayers in all the languages known to man, but the tear refused to heal.
His own wound sealing up, he bit again harder and brought it to the corpse’s lips. The blood trickled over the corner of the mouth. Valentin grabbed the jaw in front of him and pried it open. Huge fangs poked obscenely from the upper jaw. Liquid pooled inside the cavity but, it was too late to start the healing process.
Desperate, Valentin bent over and licked the few drops of blood still seeping from the carotid. Shawn’s scream fell on deaf ears. Valentin doubled over in pain. Hot, blinding pain. A wave of nausea washed over him and he retched heavily. The pain got worse, temples throbbed, muscles clenched. Valentin choked, fighting for a breath he didn’t need.
The next picture was different. The room was the same, but the colors were dimmer. The corpse on the floor had dried, the splashed blood leaving blackened circles in the hardwood floor.
Valentin stiffened, listening intently. Panic settled in his guts and he glanced frantically around for another way out. He rushed to the window, tore the blinds away and threw it open. In the space of a breath, he was climbing over the sill and jumping blind into the darkness beneath.
Everything became a blur, like Valentin was rushing through his memories, fast-forwarding to the present. A bad landing, a broken ankle, running, confusion, fear, pain, landscapes flashing by. Stealing cars, nausea, more running, disorientation, terror, hunting, retching, and above everything it was pain as a constant companion. He saw himself through Valentin’s eyes, sitting in the bar, felt the arousal Valentin had experienced, the confusion, the flare of hope and the black despair that followed. His face appeared again in front of his eyes, and the longing rolling through Valentin’s veins at the image broke Shawn’s heart.
The images flashed faster and faster, too quick for Shawn to make anything out of them, and the emotions accompanying them were a whirl. It was like Valentin was afraid he showed too much and had started to pull away. This time, it was Shawn holding on to him, pulling his lover closer, keeping the connection open. This time, he wanted all.
Valentin struggled to get away and Shawn increased the pressure his palms were exerting over Valentin’s fingers. Shawn didn’t need the physical connection to feel the other man’s turmoil. He reeked of it, so Shawn let him go.
Valentin stumbled back, falling on the bed, his pupils normal once more. Magic simmered on his skin before it settled down. Shawn held out his hands in front of him in a nonthreatening manner.
“Easy there. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Valentin hid a smile. “I’m not lying to you, either.”
Valentin rose to his feet gingerly, winced like he was in pain, and stepped into Shawn’s personal space. “I have no need to know what human emotions smell like. Us vampires have no use for them, kitten!”
Though it was meant as an insult, it came out more like an endearment. Shawn purred in acknowledgment at the term, knowing it would only piss Valentin off more. “Oh, honey, I’m sure you’re right. Your kind is so high-and-mighty that all those emotions pouring off you earlier were probably just a figment of my imagination. There’s no way you could actually feel anything.”
“Mind telling me why you are pissed?”
Shawn let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know.” Maybe because I like you. A lot. And you could easily tear my heart out and rip it to pieces with only a few words.
“You are quick to draw conclusions.”
“Was I wrong in my assumptions?”
“Uhm, no.”
“I didn’t know vampires can blush.”
“I. Don’t. Blush.”
“Of course not. Except for that lovely shade of red in your cheeks. Most becoming.”
“Bite me!”
“I thought that was your specialty.”
Valentin sputtered.
Shawn grinned widely, unrepentant.
“Anyway. How did you do it? Project your memories into my mind?”
Valentin turned around and started pacing. “I’m not sure if this is what I did. I wanted you to see what I’ve seen, but somehow it got out of hand. I was pissed and wanted to take it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I apologize for that.” Valentin ceased his pacing and glanced at him. “I felt you in my head, like you were with me the whole time.”
“Did you also hear me screaming at you not to go inside that room? Or not to drink that blood?”
Valentin’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter. “No, I didn’t hear that part.”
“And you wouldn’t have listened anyway.”
“No, I wouldn’t have. Besides, I couldn’t have. Everything already happened. You cannot change the past.”
“You can’t travel in time either.”
“Actually you can. I know there are some elders who can bend time, but this is like nothing I’ve ever heard before.” He looked pensive.
“Bend time?”
“Yes. They can change the space-time continuum.”
“Huh?” This time it was Shawn’s turn to look confused.
Valentin threw him a look saying you serious? but he did offer the expected explanation. “They can be in different places at the same time. Or to be more exact, they can jump through time. But it’s a rare skill, and I can imagine it takes a great deal of power and control. None of which I possess.”
Shawn snorted. “Sorry to break this to you, but you do.” Valentin opened his mouth to protest, but Shawn raised his hand to stop him. “Yes, you do. Oh, I don’t know about the control thing, but power you have. I can smell it on
you, and I felt it on my skin. You are powerful. Trust me on that.”
Valentin shook his head, smiling bitterly. “Be that as it may, you don’t understand the kind of power needed for time traveling. I am nowhere near that level. Only the most powerful or the eldest of my kind can do it. I’ve only heard about two vampires able to do it. Never met them though. And even if I’d meet them I couldn’t ask them if it’s true.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t ask someone what kind of talents he has.” Valentin rolled his eyes at Shawn’s silent question. “It’s not polite.”
“And politeness is relevant here because…?”
“Because when said someone could take your head off with just a flick of their hand, you go out of your way to show them respect. Especially when you are nothing but a fledgling in comparison.”
“When you put it like that…”
Valentin threw a challenging look at Shawn. “I was under the impression that your world is ruled by traditions just as much as mine is.”
Shawn shrugged. “It is. But there are ways around them.”
A sad smile curved Valentin’s lips. “You had to be an alpha.”
“Had to? I can hardly call myself an alpha without a pack. And besides, I’m no dog, I’m a cat. A pride has a prime, not an alpha.”
“That wasn’t exactly a denial. Are you?”
The million dollar question. He was domineering, strong, stubborn, born in a long line of leaders, and yet he chose a different path. Valentin must have felt his dilemma and threw him a lifeline.
“Does having a pack, or a pride in your case, make you an alpha? And the lack of it, less? Are you in any way different? Less domineering? Less dangerous?”
“No.” Shawn wasn’t sure for himself which question he was answering, though the answer felt right.
Valentin probed deeper. “No, what?”
“Why don’t you ask me that again at another time? Perhaps I’ll have a better answer.”
Valentin nodded his agreement as Shawn went back to the food bag and dug out a can of Pepsi.
Perfect Timing Page 8