Bound by Her Blood

by Mara Leigh

  He shrugs and comes toward me, cock first.

  I grab his head, position his neck and bite.

  He shouts, but my venom quickly subdues him and he slumps forward over me.

  Adjusting his body so the wall shares some of his weight, I lean against the bricks and concentrate on draining his blood.

  Even tainted with alcohol and what tastes like a diet of fried food and microwaved garbage, his blood is delicious. If not delicious, then nourishing, life giving and exactly what I need.

  As I gulp down the warm elixir, I feel my strength returning full force. How have I survived so many months without feeding straight from the vein? How have I grown used to the pale substitutes I was offered?

  Heat and power flow through me, waking every cell and making me feel alive, as alive as I’ve felt since I was human. The rate of flow from his vein slows, but I continue to gulp.

  My belly’s full, but I want more.

  If he’s going to live, I have to stop—now. But does this rapist deserve to live?

  I release my fangs to breathe and give myself a moment to decide. I lick rivulets of blood off my mouth and chin, making sure I don’t waste even the smallest drop.

  Even with him half-unconscious and near death, the man’s breath makes me gag, its pungent odor overpowering the garbage smells that the rain released from the alley’s pavement.

  I want to kill him. I want to drain this creep of every last corpuscle in his body, but killing humans is wrong and completely taboo in the vampire world. I might not have learned much from other vampires, but I have learned that.

  The few vampires who kill their victims are the ones who draw attention to our kind, the ones who make humans hate us, make our mere existence illegal.

  Reluctantly, I lick the puncture wounds on his neck to seal them. When the asshole comes to, he’ll have no memory of me, no idea why he’s lying in an alley with his dick out.

  Because no way am I putting that back.

  Hidden behind his slumped body, I rest for a few moments, letting the man’s blood nourish me. Even after taking so much, I could feed again, but I no longer need to. What I need is to find a safe, dark place to wait out the inevitable daylight.

  The scumbag flies away from me, landing with a smash against a nearby dumpster.

  Startled, I launch myself at whoever or whatever pulled the man off me.

  “Don’t be afraid,” a deep male voice says as I collide with an impossibly large and hard body. “You’re safe now. You’re going to be okay.”

  Pinned by steel-band-like arms, I’m about to plunge my fangs into another neck—or chest, since I can’t reach his neck—when I come to my senses and relax in the man’s hold.

  This man “rescued” me with no idea I didn’t need the service.

  My Good Samaritan strokes the back of my head as he holds my naked body against his massive one. “You’re bleeding,” he says with alarm.

  “It’s not my blood.” I hope he won’t ask for more explanation. “Let me down. Please?”

  He sets me onto my feet and backs away quickly, facing down the alley instead of toward my naked body. “You need me to call an ambulance? The cops?”

  “No.” I grab the damp trench, put it on and wrap it tightly around me. “No cops. Please?”

  He nods, his gaze still scanning the alley, staying off me. He’s the tallest man I’ve ever seen, at least seven feet if I had to guess, and the massive expanse of his back and chest doesn’t seem real. He’s way bigger than even Pike.

  His body shifts and the movement confirms that the massive mounds under his T-shirt, wet from the rain, are pure muscle. No wonder he was able to toss my nearly empty meal container aside with such ease.

  I find what’s left of the coat’s belt and tie together the pieces my would-be rapist cut with his knife.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’m okay now. And dressed.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” He slowly turns toward me, and light from above finds his features.

  I gasp. It’s probably the effects of the fresh blood in my system, but this man is the most attractive human being I’ve ever seen. In fact, he’s the only human man I’ve ever found truly attractive. This man is handsome without a hint of pretty, and there’s something rugged and unbelievably masculine about his looks. Like a model combined with a Viking.

  His rain-soaked shirt clings to a well-sculpted body, and even damp from the rain, his wavy, thick hair, short on the sides and longer on top, is as blond as mine was before I dyed it—nearly white. His strong jawline sports sexy stubble. But the best part is, in spite of the man’s rugged appearance, his light eyes—the color of a glacier-sourced lake—are filled with more genuine compassion and concern than I’ve had directed my way—ever.

  He extends his arm toward me and the forearm hairs reflect the light like strands of gold, even without taking the rain droplets into account. If I hadn’t just fed, I’d never be able to keep my fangs out of this man’s neck, and I watch his vein pulse, almost as if his blood wants out, as if his blood wants me to feed.

  He takes a step toward me, but stops an arm’s length away.

  His arm’s length, which is much farther than I want him to be at the moment, or maybe ever again.

  I know the danger. I know I can’t let this human man discover who I am, what I am, or what really happened in this alley before he arrived, but after months of captivity, combined with the stress of escaping and the relief of feeding, all I can think about is seeking comfort in his arms.

  “I’m a little shaken.” I step toward him and he sucks in a sharp breath.

  Stretching my arms around his body I lean against him. My hands don’t come close to meeting behind his back, barely even reach past his sides, but he feels so strong and warm against me.

  “Can you just hold me a minute?”

  He exhales as his arms wrap gently around my body. Not in my entire life have I felt so safe, even though I know I’m anything but.

  Under my ear, his heart rate increases, thumping through his chest and the sound is like a lullaby, rocking me, easing my tension and pain. I detect something unusual about it—almost like extra beats—and with each forceful push from his heart, the rush of blood in his veins sounds as powerful as a waterfall.

  Intoxicated, I’m starving again, even though I just fed.

  Have I forgotten what a human’s heart and blood sound like? How it feels to be held? Have I ever really known the latter? After escaping my stepfather, I avoided men and the only person I ever let hug me was my friend Lark. My heart squeezes. I haven’t let myself think of her in months.

  “Let’s go inside.” His deep voice reverberates through my body.

  I lift my head and turn toward the scumbag lying next to the dumpster. “Is he dead?”

  My Good Samaritan leaves my side for a moment to check the man’s pulse. “He’s alive. But if you want, I can make sure he never does this again.”

  Has he just offered to kill for me? “Just leave him,” I say.

  “He should be in jail…” His voice trails off, making me think he doesn’t want to involve the cops any more than I do, and I suppose he doesn’t want to get involved as a witness. Or is he worried he’ll get arrested for assault? A man his size must worry about that kind of thing all the time.

  I shake my head. “I just want to forget about him.”

  The big man turns toward me with a half grin, his eyes dancing with humor. “I suppose waking up with his ass in a puddle and his dick hanging out might teach him a lesson.”

  “He doesn’t seem like the good-student type.”

  The man chuckles as he gestures with his head toward a door in the alley and then reaches back for me. “Come. Let’s get you dried off and warm.”

  I follow and regret that he drops his offered hand when I get close enough to take it.

  “What’s inside?” I ask, suddenly wary as he opens the heavy metal door.

  “A bar. My bar.” He shakes his head.
“That asshole who attacked you was inside earlier. I kicked him out for saying something rude to my waitress. Tonight’s the last time he gets a drink in this neighborhood.” He holds open the door, and I step into a dimly lit hallway, painted black.

  My night vision restored, I spot a door to my right, slightly ajar, with a staircase leading down and a wood planked floor stretching along a hallway that’s well worn but clean, considering it leads to the back door of a bar. The walls are freshly washed, too—I smell the lemon from the cleaning fluid and sense the residual dampness from when they were cleaned this morning.

  Multiple voices and the thump of music waft down the hall. The sharp tang of ammonia mixed with urine hits my senses as I pass the men’s room; the same comes from the ladies’, and then finally the scent of beer, peanuts and human blood takes over as I step into the main room of the bar.

  The wood plank flooring continues into the main room, where my savior ushers me toward a booth. Before sitting, he gestures for a waitress. She appears instantly.

  “Ask Kev to cover for me behind the bar, okay?” he says.

  “Sure, boss,” the waitress answers. “Can I get you something?”

  He leans one hand on the table and I can’t help but notice his fingers—long and thick, the top joints dusted with blond hair.

  In spite of my recent abuse by fingers, I can’t help but find his digits sexy. Why am I so attracted to this man? A human, no less. And why am I still hungry?

  “What can I get you?” he asks me. “On the house.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not much of a drinker.” I slide onto the bench facing the entrance to the bar. I’d prefer a position where I could see both of the exits, but I lack eyes in the back of my head so watching the front will have to do.

  “Coffee? Hot tea?” He’s not going to take no for an answer.

  “Whiskey,” I respond. “Irish if you have it.”

  Smiling with surprise, he nods, then taps the table with those sex sticks he likely calls fingers. “Whiskey it is.”

  He turns to the waitress. “Two Jamesons. Black Barrel. Better make them both doubles.” He slides into the booth opposite me.

  The man looks even better in this light, and the soft warm glow sparks off his strong features, making me think of honey. Honey I’d like to lick off.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Selina.”

  “Rock.” He nods.

  “Like a stone?”

  “Like Hudson.”

  “The river in New York?”

  He grins. “Rock Hudson. Actor from the 1950s.”

  “Okay.” That’s kind of random. “Nice to meet you, Rock.” Glad for an excuse to touch him, I extend my hand to shake, and his much larger one engulfs mine gently as he smiles.

  But he lets go too soon, and when he does my fingers graze his palm, delighting in the calluses and mounds of muscle he has even there. You’d think my sex drive would be in neutral, at least for a while, but being a vampire is strange and still new to me. From the moment I spotted this man, my libido’s been in high gear, likely made worse by the feeding.

  “I noticed you don’t have a purse,” he says. “Were you robbed?”

  I shake my head.

  “Can I call someone for you?”

  “Call someone?”

  “A friend? Boyfriend? Husband? Do you have your phone on you?”

  “No, I…” I try to remember all the cover stories I used with humans before I was captured. Frankly, I avoided human conversations—too much risk they’d suspect me and call the police or stake me themselves. “If it’s okay, I’ll just rest here a bit, warm up?”

  “Stay as long as you need,” he says. “And if you change your mind and want to borrow my phone, let me know.”

  I nod. “I’m fine. Really.” I pull my hand down to my lap to hide its trembling.

  The only thing I need is sleep—somewhere hidden from the sun, the cops and Pike.

  I should find somewhere soon, but it’s tempting to stay in this bar and close to Rock as long as I can.

  The waitress sets down our drinks, and he smiles. “Thanks, Chelle.”

  “No sweat.” She walks away, shooting a heated look over her shoulder.

  Clearly I’m not the only female in the room who finds Rock attractive.

  If she touches him I’ll kill her. My murderous thought catches me off guard.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “You smiled just then. Kind of a wicked smile if you don’t mind my saying. What were you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.” I wrap both hands around my glass like it’s an anchor. “I’m just grateful you came along when you did.”

  “Me too.” He nods. “So, Selina.” The way he says my name is unbelievably sexy, lingering on the long E sound—Seleeena. “What’s your story?”

  “It’s a long one,” I say but I immediately regret that I may have made him more curious. Even if I wanted to share my story, I can’t. It’s a matter of survival.

  He shifts his large body, his legs spreading wide under the table. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “I’ve got time.” His deep voice resonates, filling my body, filling the room.

  Time. I want to spend time with this man. A lot of time. If only I had it.

  If only I could talk to him freely, without him discovering I’m a vampire.

  Chapter 5

  Rock

  The cute, purple-haired vampire takes a sip of her whiskey and then scans the room, clearly looking for danger. Her slight body is tense, ready to attack—or run—on a second’s notice, and I don’t want to do anything to trigger either reaction.

  When I tossed that creep off her in the alley, I didn’t expect to discover that she was the attacker, not him. Even if his intent was rape, she had the upper hand way before I arrived on the scene.

  It’s impossible to know who attacked first, but it certainly wasn’t your typical vamp-feeds-off-a-drunk-in-an-alley situation. Not by a long shot. The guy’s dick was out, and Selina was naked, blood trailing down her back and legs, and she was clearly shaken. Terrified. There’s more to Selina’s story and I have to know it.

  Not in a hundred years have I wanted to know someone so badly. Even though we just met, part of me never wants to let her out of my sight. But I need to tread carefully, let her know that she’s safe.

  I’ve never met a vampire who seems so vulnerable, so innocent, and I want beyond words to protect her. She looks young—barely out of her teens—but with vamps, appearances are always misleading.

  Her hair, though… It’s the same color as the lilacs that grew outside the cave in Ireland where I spent a cold winter over eighty years ago. Such hair colors have only been common in the past decade or so, so her transition must be fairly recent.

  “When you’re ready to tell me what happened,” I say softly. “You can trust me. I would never call the cops.”

  Her head lifts, like she might open up, and she smiles.

  Both of my hearts skip a beat.

  “There’s not much to tell,” she says in a way that proves the truth is the opposite.

  Selina’s skin is delicate, pale perfection, and her eyes, large in her tiny face, are the lightest blue, nearly silver, surrounded by the remnants of dark makeup that’s staining her eye sockets and trailing down her cheeks.

  My thumb twitches with the desire to reach across the table and wipe away the eye shadow remnants, to feel her skin that’s undoubtedly soft.

  She takes a long sip of her drink, closing her eyes in obvious enjoyment, and something stirs deep inside me. Not only is she beautiful, I really appreciate a woman who appreciates whiskey.

  “How’d you end up in my alley?” I ask her gently.

  She licks her upper lip, and I’m instantly hard at the sight of that tiny pink tongue.

  Filling with shame, I shift on the bench. It’s been decades, many decades, since a woman’s had t
hat effect on me. Not since… I shake my head to banish the thought.

  She glances up to the side. “I got locked out of my apartment.”

  I love that she can’t keep eye contact while she’s so obviously lying. I try to think of questions she might be able to answer truthfully. “You live nearby?”

  “Not far.” Her eyes dart around the room. “My roommate’s probably home by now. She can let me in.” She looks down at the table as one of her slender fingers traces the wood grain. “As soon as I feel a bit stronger, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “But look.” I rake my fingers over my scalp. “You’re not in my hair. See?”

  She laughs softly at my corny joke, but as her smile fades her expression turns sad, making me want to leap over the table and take her into my arms.

  I’ve never seen a vampire—a natural predator—so vulnerable, so guarded. Her eyes dart around the room once again. Someone or something has terrified this woman, and I’ll bet it wasn’t that asshole in the alley. Not just him.

  My instinct to protect Selina overwhelms me, even though I know she must be strong enough to take care of herself.

  Questions tingle on my tongue. I want to know everything about her, but she’ll bolt if she suspects that I already know her most carefully guarded secret.

  “You should call your roommate.” I pull out my phone and offer it again.

  She shakes her head. A lock of wet purple hair lands curled around her cheekbone and she pulls it off. “There’s no point. She never picks up numbers she doesn’t recognize.”

  Her lies are getting better, offered with more confidence.

  “Any chance your roommate won’t come home at all tonight?” I want her to stay here.

  Her lips twitch, but she shakes her head, then tucks damp waves behind a tiny ear. “She’ll be home.”

  “You don’t look very sure.” I lean onto the table, wanting to get closer but not wanting to crowd her. I know how intimidating I am. “Listen…I know you don’t know me from Adam, but if you need a place to stay tonight, I’ve got a room downstairs. Nothing fancy. No window or anything, but it’s comfortable and safe. Very quiet. No one will bother you. You could even stay all day tomorrow if you need the sleep. The bar will be closed.”