She leaned into him like a flower toward the sun, compelled to follow his movements. His words, spoken low and soft and seductive, made perfect sense. Of course she would do what he asked. Anything he asked.
Her lips parted, agreement trembling on the tip of her tongue, until he brushed that warm fingertip over the blade of her cheekbone and flicked the tip of her nose. She blinked and jerked back as if someone had suddenly turned on the lights in a pitch-black room. For the first time, Ava looked at the stony giant and saw real amusement on his face. A slow, creeping lava flow of fury ignited inside her.
“You manipulative fucking bastard,” she breathed, much, much too angry to shout. “You got inside my head and manipulated my thoughts. You fucking mind-raped me! You can’t do that!”
He lifted his brows. “I believe I just demonstrated that I could.”
“No, I mean you can’t do that. You aren’t supposed to be able to. You’re not the first vampire I’ve ever met, Fang, and I have it on very good authority that vampire mind tricks do not work on other vampires.”
“Usually do not work on other vampires,” he corrected.
She scowled. “And how did I become the exception to the rule?”
“I think it is more that I am the exception. Or perhaps that we are.” He shrugged. “You are barely one day old, boi-baba. I have nearly eight hundred years on you. I can do many things other vampires cannot do.”
Ava worked hard not to blink at that news. Even she knew that eight hundred was a fairly impressive age for a vampire, especially in Manhattan, which confirmed what the giant’s accent had told her: he wasn’t from around here. But even if he was the second-oldest vampire she knew of—Reggie’s husband being the oldest, and only by a decade or so—she had learned enough from her friend to know that his explanation wasn’t the whole truth. From what Reggie said, even when there was a huge age gap between vampires, the elder should have had to put a lot more effort into controlling the mind of the younger than she’d seen Goliath exert.
“Bullshit,” she called, glaring at him. “That’s not the real explanation, and you know it. There’s something else going on here, and I want to know what it is. Now.”
Not a woman used to being gainsaid, Ava crossed her arms over her chest and prepared to stare the vampire into submission. It took a few tense minutes, and even then, a part of her wasn’t sure if he’d submitted or just decided it was easier to tell her than to come up with another half-truth.
His brief nod acknowledged her point with something less than good grace. “It is not the entire explanation, no, but it is the simplest one. The whole truth is more … complicated.”
She stared back at him. “I’m a smart girl.”
Another put-upon sigh. “Vampires who are unrelated to each other have very little mental influence over each other’s thoughts or actions,” he admitted. “It is much easier to mold a human mind, and even then, some vampires have a real talent for it and some do not.”
“You?”
“I do well enough.”
Ava rolled her eyes at his false modesty.
The giant continued. “When one vampire is much older than the other, of course he has an advantage over the younger one. Experience, practice, inherent differences in power—all those things play a part. The problem is that all of a vampire’s power comes from the blood, and the blood can be a kind of conduit for that power. Even when attempting to influence humans, this is much more easily done when the human is one from whom a vampire has previously fed. That blood connection strengthens the bond between their minds.”
She pursed her lips. “So vampires from the same bloodline would have more influence over each other than, say, a vampire from Argentina and one from Canada.”
“Yes.”
“But how are we connected? Forgive me for saying it, but you’re clearly not from around here. Are you trying to tell me that the vampire who attacked me just happened to come from the same neck of Eastern Europe that you do?”
He looked surprised. “How do you know where I come from?”
“I don’t, but that accent isn’t from Brooklyn. I made a vague guess.” She waved the subject off as unimportant. She wanted her real question answered.
“It was a good guess. And I do not know where your attacker came from, but judging by his age, I would assume it was somewhere local. He was too young to have traveled far.”
“So, again, I’m asking … how are we related?”
His stony features actually managed a real expression—a rather forbidding scowl. “The rogue who attacked you did not mean for you to survive. His intent was to drain you and leave you for dead. When I became involved, I prevented that from happening, but not before you had accidentally ingested his blood. The change had already been initiated. There was nothing I could do to stop it, aside from killing you. That I was not prepared to do.”
“Appreciate it.”
The giant ignored her sarcasm. “Your transformation was … unusual,” he said, looking not quite comfortable with the word he’d settled on. “Most of the time, when a turning is done voluntarily—with preparation and care—it is a painless and relatively simple procedure. Blood is exchanged, and while the transformation begins, the sire keeps a close watch on the fledgling, providing him with whatever is needed, from blood to water to moral support. But in your case, the rogue who sired you had done so unwittingly and had no intention of staying around to nurse you through the change.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call it ‘the change.’ ” Ava winced. “It sounds like you’re talking about menopause. But does the sire really need to be there? I mean, once a person starts turning into a vampire, it’s not like it can be undone. Can it?”
Her voice came out more eager-sounding than she’d intended, and she was sure he could read her disappointment when he shook his head.
“No, the process cannot be reversed. And I suppose the sire would not technically have to be present for the ch—I mean, for the process to continue, but it makes things very much easier for the fledgling.”
“How so?”
“A vampire’s blood is very powerful,” he explained patiently. “Only a few drops are necessary to pass the vampirism on to a human, but because the blood is what a vampire’s body uses to heal and power itself, much more is required to fuel the actual changes that vampirism makes to the human body.”
Ava frowned. “And what happens if the, er, fledgling doesn’t get enough blood from the, er, sire?”
“The transformation will be very painful. The vampirism will consume all of the human blood available and then begin to attack the body in a search for more. In essence, if insufficient blood is given to the fledgling, his body will begin to consume itself from the inside out in an effort to complete the turning.”
Ava recoiled. “That’s disgusting.”
The giant shrugged. “It’s physiology. Every living body in every species wants to preserve its own life and will go to extraordinary lengths to ensure its survival. This is only one more example.”
The ramifications finally began to sink into Ava’s overwhelmed psyche and she felt a renewed sense of dread. “Didn’t you say that I only got a little bit of blood from the vampire who attacked me? I mean, I only bit him by accident, so I couldn’t have gotten more than a few drops, right?”
He nodded.
Ava looked down at the marks on her wrists. Already they were fading, but she could still see them clearly. “That’s why you had to tie me up, then. I was fighting because the change was so painful. Because I didn’t have enough blood.”
Another nod.
Closing her eyes, Ava made the final connection and felt her heart sink into her polished toenails. She had to ask the question, but inside, she already knew the answer.
“So why aren’t I dead? If my body turned on itself looking for more blood, why didn’t it just eat itself to death?”
He didn’t answer at first, not until Ava opened her eyes and met his gaze w
ith her own. It was as if he’d been waiting, as if he couldn’t or wouldn’t say the words until she could watch him saying them and know them for the truth.
“Because when I brought you back here, I gave you my own blood,” he told her, his voice low and dark and full of something Ava couldn’t define, something that sounded almost like possession. “The rogue may have started your transformation, but I completed it. In essence, I crossed you over. I became your sire.”
Chapter Eight
Ava had endured plenty of bad days in her life, but until now, none of them had actually counted as a disaster.
Staring up into the face of her giant blond hero-cum-tormenter, she wondered briefly if this, all of this, was a direct result of having missed confession for the last few Sundays.
Okay, the last few years of Sundays.
“That’s why you can influence me,” she said finally, her voice sounding nearly as dazed as she felt. How much shock could one woman take and still stay functional, after all? “Because you’re my … my … sire”—she had to force the word out—“you can get inside my head no matter what. Right?”
He nodded, his gaze searching her face intently. Ava didn’t know why he bothered. Why look for clues to what she was thinking when he could just slip inside and ask?
“At the moment, that is correct. But it does not always have to be that way. I can show you how to set up shields against unwelcome intrusions. In fact, it is my duty as your sire.”
“Can you? But you’d always be able to get past any shields I set against you, wouldn’t you? If we share blood, you’ll always have a path in.”
“I will have a path, yes, but I will respect your wishes if you choose to keep me out.”
She looked doubtful. “How can I be sure of that?”
He shrugged. “I suppose you cannot, but it is the truth nonetheless.”
“I’m not sure I’m willing to take that on faith.”
“My ability to read your thoughts or influence your mind is no different from my ability to overpower you with my strength, or the ability of one lover to break the heart of another. There is never a true equity of power between individuals, but we learn that we can trust those close to us not to abuse their strengths.”
Ava thought about Reggie and Dmitri and frowned. She supposed it was unlikely that they had stayed together all these years due solely to that kind of manipulation, but the possibility still made her uneasy. “I don’t like that.”
“I cannot force you to believe me, but if you want, I can show you how to read my thoughts in return and how to set up defenses that would make such an effort to manipulate your actions very much more difficult, even for me.”
She snorted. Her brain felt so overloaded it might explode at any minute. Not to mention that this entire conversation still seemed surreal. This entire experience still seemed surreal. Maybe it would turn out to be a nightmare after all …
God, if only she could be so lucky.
“Oh, I want, but there are quite a few things I want. And at the moment, number one on that list is that I want to go home.” She swung her legs to the floor and pushed herself up off the sofa. “I think I’ve had about as much of this as I can handle for one day. I need to get back to my own apartment for a while and … process. Or whatever. I need to be by myself.”
Ignoring her lack of shoes and her missing purse, Ava turned and headed straight for the apartment door at a brisk pace. When she reached it, he was already leaning lazily against it and shaking his head.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
“Is your name Hal?” She adopted her bitchiest tone, the one that could stop a model’s tantrum in the blink of an eye and make the men on the bar stools next to her suddenly remember a childhood desire to devote themselves to the priesthood. It sounded almost as frosty as the man’s eyes looked.
“No. My name is Vladimir, but most know me as Dima.”
“Ava Markham. Charmed, I’m sure.” Sarcastic? Who? Her? The odd thing was, though, that while he blinked as if her name meant something to him, he showed no real recognition, and no inclination to glom onto her because of her fame, present or past.
“But you’re apparently not a sci-fi fan. Whatever. The point is that I’m an adult with the right to make my own choices. And for the first time since the Equal Others Protection Act passed, I’m actually happy about that right being granted to people with fangs. So get out of my way before I call the police and exercise those equal rights of mine.”
He shook his head. “I cannot. It isn’t safe.”
“I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
He opened his mouth to object, and Ava had to tamp down the urge to close it with her fist. That would likely cause more trouble than it was worth. Not to mention that she had a feeling his jaw was a lot harder than her hand. Instead, she used a sharp stare and an upraised palm.
“Despite the unfortunate events of last night, yes, I can take care of myself. And even if I couldn’t, that would be my problem, not yours. If I choose to disregard my own safety, that, again, is my right.”
He pushed away from the door to loom over her like a gargoyle. “It isn’t your safety I am concerned with,” he informed her mildly. “It is everyone else’s.”
She lowered her palm but didn’t dull her stare. Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she could.
“You were turned, violently, only a little over twenty-four hours ago,” he continued. “You know nothing about your new powers, cannot control your strength, are unprepared for the possibility of someone’s stray thoughts interfering with your own and triggering an unintended outburst, and you have refused to feed, so are vulnerable to your own hunger. If I allowed you to leave this apartment, it would be like sending a rabid dog out onto the street. You might appear perfectly normal, but if a human were to get in your way or the hunger were to strike you, you might not be able to stop yourself from killing them. I refuse to be responsible for such an atrocity.”
Only a lifetime of practice allowed Ava to conceal the way his words shook her. If she really was capable of those things, she had been right all along; vampires really were monsters. “I’ll take precautions. I’ll lock myself in a silver coffin if I have to. Just get the hell out of my way.”
He grasped her shoulder, turning her away from the door when she tried to brush past him. He touched her only as firmly as he needed to, but she could feel the leashed strength behind his grasp. If he chose to, he could hurt her very badly.
The thought tempted her.
Ava’s mother, when she had bothered with her daughter at all, had raised a good Catholic girl. The Church said suicide was a sin, but if she didn’t actually take her own life, would it still count? Did it matter anymore? She was a vampire now. Wasn’t she already condemned to hell?
Did she really want to die?
“If you really wish to leave my presence,” Dima said, “the only way to do that is to convince me that you are ready to live on your own.”
She ground her teeth together. “And how am I supposed to do that? Is there a manual I need to study? An exam to pass? I neglected to bring my number two pencil.”
“You could eat something. That would make a good start.”
“If I eat, you’ll let me leave?”
“No. But it will bring you one step closer to that goal.”
“How many steps are there?”
“A few.”
She glared at him. He remained unmoved.
“How long will it take me to reach all of them?”
“If you put your mind to it? Not very long.” That almost-smile quirked the corner of his mouth again. “I imagine there is little you could not accomplish, if you put your mind to it.”
Ava lifted her chin and gave the laugh that had been known to make grown men cry in fear. “Mister,” she said, her smile a travesty completely devoid of humor, “you have no idea.”
He didn’t budge. “Does that mean you will agree to feed?�
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She stared at him stonily. “I can’t be the first person in the history of the universe who was turned into a vampire against my wishes. This must have happened before. So what are the alternatives? Someone must have come up with some before now. Tell me what they are.”
He didn’t answer right away, but Ava didn’t care. She could wait. For pity’s sake, she could out-stubborn a Missouri mule without smudging her manicure; she could damned well wait out an inconsiderate bastard with a boss complex and a thoroughly bitable chin—
She stuffed that thought away—God, where had that come from?—and focused her scowl back on her adversary. It would be no trouble to wait him out. After all, it appeared that she now had literally all the time in the world.
Finally, he heaved another of those sighs and tightened his jaw. “There are only two ways to feed; you can bite a bag, or you can bite into flesh. Those are the choices. Either way, you must consume blood or you will die. End of story.”
“But … ?” she prompted.
“But there are three types of blood that can sustain you,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. “The blood of a living human is by far the most preferable. It provides the most nutrients, is the most readily available—especially in a city like this—and it is what your physiology was designed to process. With it, you run the least chance of becoming weak or ill, and it will help to extend your life for the longest possible period.”
“But … ?” she repeated.
“But you can survive, if forced to it, on animal blood. It is less complete, less nourishing, and so you would need to consume much greater volumes of it than you would if you drank human blood. With human blood, you will require only a couple of pints per day, less as you age. With animal blood, that figure would easily be doubled. At that point, it becomes dangerous. Only very large animals can give so much without risking injury to themselves, beasts like cows, horses, moose, if you can find them. Also, the sensation of drinking so much at one time can be so uncomfortable that the few who try such restrictions usually end up taking many small meals over the course of the night, grazing like the animals they feed upon. Of course, feeding multiple times in one night requires finding multiple donors, or making room to keep an enormous animal with you through the night, which is often easier said than done. Unless, perhaps, you intend to eschew city life and move onto a dairy farm?”
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