Knowledge Quickening (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 2)

by D. S. Williams

  “Will that be soon?” I questioned curiously. There'd been mention of relocation, though it hadn't been discussed at any great length.

  “We will start making preparations soon. I will need to enroll in college in our new area.”

  “You're going back to college?”

  Lucas nodded. “I'm going to do a degree in genetics.”

  “I thought you'd already studied genetics?”

  “I do have a degree in genetics. As time passes however, and knowledge improves, new things are discovered. And I figure with our situation, a refresher might be helpful.” He smiled down at me, his eyes hooded with desire. “I haven't forgotten we have a physical inconsistency to overcome.”

  The gradient had begun to increase considerably and I stopped, catching my breath for a moment. I was beginning to tire and needed a few minutes to rein in my thoughts. Did Lucas intend for me to travel with them? Or would I be left behind in Puckhaber when they left?

  “That's enough walking for you, my Charlotte.” He swung me up onto his back in a lightning-fast movement. When he was confident that I was secure and comfortable, he took off at a run and again I was exhilarated as he ran rapidly up the mountain. His movements were fluid, the trees passing us by in a blur. It had taken almost half an hour to walk along the riverbank, covering no more than a mile and a half. It took Lucas less than five minutes to reach the top of the mountain and I laughed aloud as we passed through the cloud cover. He came to a standstill within the shadow of the trees.

  Lucas dropped me lightly onto my feet and I marveled again at the ability he had to run at such an immense speed, yet not even raise a sweat. There was no sign of exertion from him as he held me until I was steady on the rough ground.

  “That is… incredible,” I announced, smiling up at him with a gleeful look. I felt like a child who'd just experienced a rollercoaster ride.

  “I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He gazed down at me and I saw a troubled look appear in his eyes as he gazed at me. “What's wrong?”

  I shook my head, glancing away. “Nothing.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me close enough so we stood body to body. “Charlotte, tell me.”

  “When you leave… what happens to me?” I blurted out.

  Lucas frowned deeply, his blue eyes sparkling with silver. “You come with us, of course.” His frown deepened. “You don't think I'd leave you behind?”

  “I wasn't sure,” I admitted quietly. “Our situation is… difficult.”

  “You silly girl. I don't care how difficult it is. Yes, I want to make love to you, but I'm not going to lose you over an inability to do so.” Lucas drew a deep, shuddering breath as he kissed me. He caught me by the waist and we dropped to our knees on the mossy ground, entwined in one another's arms. Lucas drew me down with him until we lay in the grass clearing, kissing each other repeatedly.

  “This is dangerous,” Lucas murmured against my mouth, even as he tugged at the hem of my shirt, pulling it out of my jeans so he could touch the bare skin beneath.

  “We should stop,” I agreed unenthusiastically, unsnapping the buttons on his shirt. Once the buttons were dealt with, I traced a line from Lucas's collarbone with my fingers, following the smooth skin to his chest and rubbed one fingertip lazily around his pale nipple, delighted when he arched against my fingers and groaned. I admired the muscular development of his chest, the smattering of dark hair that grew below his belly button and disappeared below the waistband of his jeans.

  “I don't want to stop, Charlotte,” Lucas whispered huskily against my ear. “I'll control it; I swear to God, I'll control it—” He captured my mouth against his, brushing his hand across my waist and tentatively reaching upwards until he reached my breast and cupped it in his hand.

  Longing clenched things low in my body and I moaned softly.

  Lucas lifted his hand immediately, concern etched on his features. “Am I hurting you?”

  I caught his fingers, gently replacing them against my breast. “No, you aren't hurting me.”

  “Tell me, if anything I do causes you pain,” he demanded quietly.

  “I think it's going to cause more pain if you stop,” I whispered, trying to encourage him. I raised my head to capture his mouth against mine and he returned the kiss, his fingers caressing my breast through my soft cotton bra.

  I continued my exploration, shoving the shirt down Lucas's arms relentlessly until he pulled it off and threw it to one side. I rubbed across his muscled bicep, on past his elbow and the soft dark hair on his forearm. Then I returned to his chest, exploring the sheer exquisiteness of his physique as I traced down his chest, over his washboard-flat stomach, trailing a path towards the button on his jeans.

  I heard the quiet snick of his fangs before he groaned and let go of my breast to capture my hands in his. When I glanced up, his eyes were wild, silver swirling wildly in his irises. “Stop, my love. Please.”

  Drawing up into a sitting position, I waited quietly. Lucas lay back against the grass; his eyes closed and raised his arms over his face while he endeavored to compose himself. He took a deep breath, then a second, before he opened his eyes to gaze at me. He cursed softly. “My apologies, my love. As much as I yearn for this, I still struggle with control when I'm so close to you.”

  I smiled, hoping to offer him some encouragement. “You're getting better.”

  Lucas sighed. “Not enough to risk going further with you.”

  “It will happen, in time. You just have to be patient.”

  He laughed harshly, the sound echoing around the clearing. “You do realize I've been celibate for decades? My patience is stretched, to say the very least.”

  A change of subject was in order. “Tell me more about your life.” We talked often about Lucas's life, both before and after his transformation. I found it endlessly fascinating to hear about a life that had stretched over a century and a half. Things that I could only learn about from history books, he'd lived through – the Civil War, the Titanic sinking, World War One and Two, the Civil Rights movement – literally dozens of historical periods were remembered with perfect recall by Lucas.

  “What would you like to know?” he asked. He still lay on the ground, his hands clasped behind his head and from the expression on his face, he was still struggling with both his frustrations and his fangs.

  “What did you do in the nineteen twenties?” I was prone to asking about decades I'd only read about, and Lucas had perfect recollection of his past – unlike the human memory that faded with time, he could recall every single day, every single minute of his life since his creation. His memories were fascinating to me, full of interesting information about an era I could only imagine.

  “I spent most of the twenties in Chicago, my home town,” he began, closing his eyes, “I spent some of the previous decade living overseas, learning more about the history of Europe and meeting other vampires on the continent. By the twenties, I knew everyone I'd known would be dead and gone, so I felt safe returning to Chicago, knowing that nobody would recognize me.”

  I was filled with sympathy. “That's so sad, Lucas.”

  “It's merely a fact of this existence,” Lucas responded quietly. “After a few decades, everyone you know dies. You come to terms with it.”

  Taking his mind off things wasn't working as well as I'd hoped. “What did you do? Were you working or studying?” Lucas had followed a pattern of working for a number of years, followed by studying for most of his vampire life.

  “I worked during the Chicago years. It was an amazing decade, after the end of the First World War, people wanted to celebrate and they lived life to the fullest. I worked in construction during those days, helping to build some of the first skyscrapers in the United States. Owned my first car during the twenties, too – a Model T Ford.” He grinned. “Actually, that's probably a car you would have liked – it was exceedingly slow.”

  Sitting cross-legged on the grass, I listened in rapt attention as L
ucas described the beginning of prohibition, and the speakeasies that sprang up all over Chicago for people to drink in secret. He told me about the bootlegging industry, and how gangsters like Al Capone made their fortune by securing alcohol from across the border in Canada, spiriting it illegally into the United States. The sun rose higher in the sky above us as Lucas described the music of the era, the jazz with Louis Armstrong, the first silent movies which you could see on a Saturday evening for a nickel. He described dance halls where the Charleston and the Lindy Hop were popular, and how women cast off the repressiveness of the previous decade, taking up jobs, raising their skirts, cutting their hair into short bobs and taking up smoking – a scandalous situation at the time.

  I didn't know how much time had passed as Lucas talked, lying on the grass with his hands tucked beneath his head. The stories he told were so interesting, I almost forgot about him being bare-chested – almost. I still found myself staring mesmerized at his chest from time to time, before I managed to drag my eyes back to his face. He caught me once or twice, and grinned.

  A cool wind began to blow and Lucas sat up, checking his watch. “We should head back.” He stood in one lithe movement, reaching down to pick up the shirt he'd dropped so carelessly. He slipped on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he caught my hand in his own and pulled me up from the ground. He leaned forward to kiss me, his lips lingering against mine. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

  “What for?”

  “For taking my mind off things. And being incredibly patient with me.” He caught hold of my arm and swung me in a swift movement onto his back again, giving me a minute to settle and wrap my arms around his neck. “Ready?”

  I nodded happily and he set off at the same unbelievable pace, flashing through the forest without taking a split second to work up speed. He ran smoothly, his footsteps sure and steady, his ability to navigate through the trees at such tremendous speed mind-blowing. The look on his face was pure, unadulterated enjoyment – the wind rushing through his hair, the glint of delight in his eyes and I realized how much he loved this element of being a vampire. The complete freedom of choosing his speed, enjoying himself, it was amazing to see the emotions in his face as he ran headlong down the hill, along the river and back through the garden to his home.

  I was more breathless than Lucas was when he dropped me carefully onto the gravel driveway, steadying me as I gulped down a lungful of air. “You enjoyed that, I can hear your heart pounding,” he remarked.

  I took his hand. “Would you like to feel it?”

  He nodded tentatively and I lifted his hand in my own. Pulling the edge of my t-shirt away from my skin, I slipped his hand under the top of the material, and guided him to where my heart pounded beneath my left breast. Lucas closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, a small smile playing against his lips. “The warmth of your skin, it continuously amazes me, Charlotte,” he murmured softly. He removed his hand from my t-shirt and captured the back of my neck, his fingers still warm where they'd been pressed against my skin. “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” I agreed with a small smile. I reached on tiptoes to capture his lips against my own. We were interrupted by the grumbling of my stomach, complaining about the lateness of lunch. Lucas casually released me and rolled his eyes.

  “Come on, my love, let's get you some food.”

  Chapter 18: Defense

  After satisfying my appetite, we joined everyone on the patio, overlooking the formal gardens. Ben had arrived home about fifteen minutes earlier, but Acenith was missing, visiting with friends. Thut and his group had left the previous day, heading back to Connecticut where they were based.

  “So, Lottie? What's the secret plan?” Striker questioned. As usual, he was a bundle of energy, bouncing from foot to foot as he waited for me to reveal my idea.

  “I'll need a volunteer,” I stated quietly. Somehow, this didn't seem like such a good idea in the cold light of day. I was uneasy, wondering if I really could get the spirits to do what I asked and uncertain how to go about it. Although I'd talked at length with Mom and the others about what I needed to do, they had the most infuriating way of running me around in circles, not giving specific answers and leaving me with the impression that using their presence in my mind was something I had to master by myself.

  “Sure, I'll do it,” Striker agreed easily, his handsome features enhanced by a wide grin. “What do I have to do?”

  “I'm not entirely certain,” I muttered doubtfully. “I don't want to hurt you.”

  Striker's look was scornful. “Lott, look at me. Do I look like I'm gonna get hurt?”

  I glanced up at him, eyeing the strongly muscled torso, the heavyset arms, thick with muscle. “Striker, I'm not sure how this will work,” I admitted. “And I'm sure – if something powerful enough attacked you – more powerful than a vampire, you could be hurt.”

  Striker set off down the stairs at a jog, bouncing with vitality. “Give it your best shot, Lott. I'm feeling pretty secure.”

  Lucas squeezed my shoulder. “He'll be fine, Charlotte. He's the strongest of all of us.”

  “Hey guys.” Nick and Marco walked around from the side of the house and Nick greeted me with a wave. “Looking much better, Charlotte. Guess the werewolf knew what he was talking about with that ointment.” He turned his attention to Lucas. “Thought we might come and see what the secret weapon is.” He threw me a casual wink and my nerves increased exponentially. I hadn't allowed for causing such interest amongst the vampires and shape shifters.

  Moments later, Acenith walked around the corner of the house, hand in hand with Rafe Munoz, Nick's second-in-command. They were smiling and laughing together and Rafe bumped his shoulder gently against Acenith's, as she smiled at something he'd said. I sought out Ripley instinctively and found him staring at them, but his face was a blank smoothness, any emotion carefully hidden.

  “Okay, Lott. What do you want me to do?” Striker called from halfway down the grassed area.

  “Just stand there,” I called back. I closed my eyes, summoning the spirits and automatically selected Mom. She was the obvious choice; the one I'd already established would do what I requested. The problem being, what exactly did I need her to do? Physical combat was an area I knew nothing about. When I opened my eyes, Mom stood on the grass by Striker, watching me with interest. Tripping Striker wouldn't have the desired effect and I struggled with a decision. It was important to prove I could defend myself, but the thought of hurting someone was making me jittery.

  The assembled group was silent, waiting with open curiosity. I sent a request to Mom and she nodded her agreement. To my absolute astonishment, she immediately did my bidding. She turned to Striker and punched him squarely in the abdomen.

  Striker looked shocked for a second, but didn't move from where he stood, didn't give any indication he might be hurt. “Well, that was freaky, Lott. I felt something, but unless you're trying to tickle me to death, it's not gonna be real effective,” he announced with a cheerful grin.

  The Lingard men guffawed and I blushed, even more convinced this wouldn't work. Maybe I couldn't protect myself – if I didn't have any combat experience, how was I possibly going to teach the spirits to use fighting techniques?

  “Let me try something else,” I called back, flustered. I drew another spirit forward, one of Lucas's brothers and he appeared besides Striker as Mom faded away. I gave him commands and he turned and punched Striker in the stomach.

  “Nup. Can feel it, but it's not powerful,” Striker announced cheerfully. “Looks like I'll be protecting you for the rest of eternity, Lott.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, angry at Striker's casual cheeriness and Nick's snide amusement. I had to be able to do this; I couldn't bear the thought of constantly looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

  Lucas spoke sharply to Nick and placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “You can do this, Charlotte, I have faith in you.”

  Striker was bouncing around,
punching the air like a crazed boxer. “C'mon, Lott. Gimme something to work with here.”

  I inhaled deeply, searching amongst the spirits to locate Conal's grandfather. A heavyset werewolf with grey hair and slate grey eyes, he appeared on the grass and I gave him instructions. He nodded his understanding and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Rage and frustration were bringing me close to tears and I hoped this time it might work.

  What happened next astounded me and everyone else. Conal's grandfather turned to Striker, drew his arm back, and swiftly punched forward. I watched in horror as the blow caught Striker in the sternum, lifting him off his feet and throwing him fifteen feet away where he landed heavily.

  Marianne shrieked, running swiftly down the stairs and across the grass, Ben and Ripley following behind. There was a stunned silence on the patio and I burst into tears, covering my face with my hands. Lucas took me in his arms as I sobbed against his chest, convinced I'd killed Striker.

  “Shhh, my love, he's fine. Shhh. Don't cry, Charlotte. Here – see? He's coming up to the patio now.” I twisted in his arms to find Striker jogging towards me an enormous smile on his face. Lucas released me so Striker could enfold me in a bear-like embrace.

  “Now that was more like it, Lott. Let's do it again.”

  “No, I can't.” I shook my head vehemently, backing away from him. It was horrifying to see Striker thrown through the air and although he appeared to be perfectly okay, it wasn't something I wanted to repeat.

  “Striker's in good health, Charlotte,” Ben said, his brown eyes sincere. “Just had the wind knocked out of him. It would be pertinent to continue this experiment, see how much you can handle.”

  “No! What if I manage to hurt someone?” I protested.

  Marianne joined Striker and smiled reassuringly. “I think you should continue, Charlotte. We want you able to defend yourself. Striker is okay and we know you wouldn't intentionally hurt us. But you must keep trying, it's important for us and you, to know you can defend yourself.”