Last Vamp Standing

by Kristin Miller

  “Wish I could,” Dante said, then seemed to catch himself.

  “What do you mean? You haven’t been able to sleep lately or . . . ever?”

  He shook his head and spoke softly. “I haven’t slept a day in fifty years, minus the two days I was knocked out when Pike did me dirty.”

  She digested his words quickly. If lack of sleep was Dante’s only secret, they were treading on good, solid ground.

  “What else?” she asked, traipsing a finger over the marking on his side. Had he figured out what the mark was and why it miraculously appeared on his skin after their earlier encounter?

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked simply. “I can grab something from the kitchen.”

  Another day, another defense mechanism. He’d tried avoidance, anger, and now complete and utter denial that she’d even asked a question. She wasn’t letting him get away that easy.

  “No, I’ve got a bottle in—shit.” She slapped her forehead. “I left it at the cemetery. Damn it, I shouldn’t have let Echo distract me like that.” Which reminded her—she still needed to run by the library. And she needed to find a way to breach the subject of Andre Cornelison and Dante’s possible paternity.

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to steal an Alvambra bottle. We can grab it later, or a new one if you want it fresh.”

  Maybe she’d wait until then. Until they were in the cemetery and Dante could see the tombstone with his own eyes.

  He slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen before she could catch him. Ariana heard him peel back the fridge door and pour something into two glasses. “What else do you want to know?” he said, striding back into the room and handing her the fuller of the two glasses.

  He’d poured a fresh glass of O—her favorite. She took the glass and eyed him carefully. Once she dragged her gaze away from the sweat glistening off his chiseled and very naked body, she focused on the lines of his face. It seemed, no matter how crazy, like his entire demeanor had changed over the course of a few minutes.

  He looked relaxed. She’d never seen the look on him until this moment. Despite how much she liked the hard edge he sported before, it was a pleasant change.

  But no one shifted from tight-lipped to open book that easily. She wasn’t buying it.

  “Why are you suddenly so willing to open up and talk like it’s no big deal? You clammed up in the library, pushed me away on my balcony, and now you’re just going to talk about the stuff that’s bothering you? Why now?”

  “Here’s the thing.” He sat beside her on the bed and took a hard swallow of his own drink. If Ariana didn’t know better, she’d say he despised the stuff and was forcing it down for show. “I don’t think I can hold back the answers from you anymore. At least not after knowing what I know now.”

  “Which is?” She’d wiggle the truth out of him one way or another.

  “I’m part-Watcher, part-vampire. It explains why I can walk during the day, why I’ve never slept, why I have fangs, how I can do some of the things I can, but—”

  “Not the teleporting. Unless you’re an elder, which you’re clearly not.”

  “Right.” Another hard drink, another pucker of distaste pushing out his lips.

  “You don’t have to drink this, you know,” she said, clinking her glass against his. “If you don’t like it. There are other varieties stocked in there.”

  Unless Echo was right, and he fed on something entirely different.

  “You’re right, there is more.” Dante set down his glass on the bedside table and turned to face her. “I don’t really know how to say this. I guess the only way is to shoot it straight, right?” He exhaled heavily, as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I—well, Watchers in general, feed off of sexual energy and adrenaline.”

  “You feed off . . .” She couldn’t repeat the words. Blood drained from her face, making her woozy. “. . . off what?”

  She had to hear it again. From his lips.

  “Ariana, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve tried resisting the urges, but I’ve never made it long. In fact, resisting them seems to make things worse. I’ve blacked out and woken up in pools of blood, unsure where I am or what I’ve done.”

  “How is this possible?” Shivers blanketed her arms.

  “Adrenaline doesn’t satiate my hunger as much as sexual energy does. My body grows accustomed to the adrenaline. Each time I need a bigger hit, a stronger fix. After all the fights I’ve been in, I’ve got to be on the verge of death for my body to release any trickle of the stuff. But at least it’s my energy I’m feeding from. When I feed off sexual energy, it’s the woman’s energy I’m taking.”

  “Oh God . . .”

  “I’ve never meant to hurt anyone, and I’ve never claimed to be anything I’m not.” He took her hand, pleading with her through shadowed eyes she couldn’t read. “I feed off those things like you feed off blood. There’s nothing I can do to change my feeding habits, though believe me, I would if I could.”

  Ariana bit her lip, thinking, letting the words settle. If Dante was a Watcher like Echo, what he said explained Echo’s nymph addiction and what he was trying to warn her about Dante. Still, if she could feed him with her body, nourish him with the sexual energy flowing through her, what was so wrong about that? Vampires offered their vein to their mates all the time.

  A warm flush crept to Ariana’s cheeks merely thinking about how she sank her fangs into Dante’s neck on the balcony. The way his blood had warmed her, tingling past her lips, filling every part of her.

  She brushed her thumb over his jaw, stopping on the backside to squelch the clenching there. “If you need to feed . . . you can feed from me.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, horror washing over him, sinking his cheekbones. “When I feed, I pull the energy from your soul. I deplete whatever you have stored. If you’re dark and evil with vices galore, I take some of that and leave you purer than I found you.” He stroked her cheek, chilling her. “If you’re good and decent and innocent, I take that just the same. I’ll taint the purity of your soul, Ariana. I can’t feed from you. I won’t.”

  “But you did,” she said, realization crashing over her. “You didn’t stop what happened between us. Did you just . . .”

  She couldn’t finish. Why wouldn’t Dante have said something before he slept with her?

  Putting her hand to her heart, Ariana tried to feel for something missing. Some evil creeping into her soul, tainting her spirit. Strangely, she felt fine. Warm and good. Would she know when it happened? Would she notice a change right away?

  “I’ve seen what my feeding can do, and I promised myself I’d never do that to another pure soul again.” His voice deepened, turning grave. “That’s why I’ve been trying to stay away from you, but I’ve done a piss poor job of it. That’s why I’ve been hot and cold and everything in between. The only reason I’m able to be with you now is because I’ve got juice flowing through me that’s satiating my hunger. You have to know that I would never hurt you that way.” As his hand cupped her chin, he shook her gently. “I’d never, ever hurt you.”

  “I know that.” Deep down in her bones, she knew Dante spoke the truth. She didn’t need to see the regret in his eyes or feel the warmth of his hands to know it. She just did. “What happened before? To the pure soul you pulled from?”

  He moved off the bed and paced slowly around the foot. And as a draft of icy cold air blew through the room, Ariana drew her knees to her chest and tugged the sheets to cover her.

  “During my transition,” he said, gazing far off, “when I realized I had vampire blood, I thought life would be difficult, but not impossible. There were vampire rehabilitation centers nearby, and I had a cousin that transitioned not long before me. But I hungered for something other than blood. It took me passing out on the streets, nearly dying of starvation, for me to real
ize what that was. I was a freak among freaks. Shunned from vamp society for being different. I moved a lot from place to place, never making friends, never rooting too deep. Who’d want to be friends with someone who seemingly picked fights for the hell of it and relished one-night stands so no one got too close?”

  He faced her then, the color of his lips strained white. She wanted to kiss the white away, warm his lips back to the supple pink she’d feasted on before.

  “I separated myself,” he said, his tone flattening out. “I fed on evil and sucked the sin from people’s souls. It sickened me. Day in and day out, the same routine. I’d feed off their filth, absorb their energy into my own soul and witness their sin, their crimes, their abuse as it passed from their body to mine. But then I met Sway, the last vamp who held my heart in her hands. When I fed from her the first time I didn’t pick up anything. I thought something had gone wrong.”

  He stopped, standing so still, Ariana thought he wasn’t going to go on.

  “It’s all right, Dante.” Sheets clung to her body as she slid off the bed and kneeled in front of him. She clutched them to her chest, wishing he’d clutch her the same way. Hold onto her as he told the story so she could heal the pain inside him. “You can’t help what you’ve done in the past.”

  “I killed her,” he blurted. “I fed from every good corner of Sway’s soul. I emptied her out until there was nothing left but evil. On Christmas morning I found her draining elderly in a nursing home. She drained them dry. By the time I’d gotten there she’d killed nearly all of them. Because of me, of what I’d pulled from her.”

  “You didn’t know what you were doing or what was happening when you fed. If you had known I’m sure you would have done things differently. I can see how much you regret what happened, but you can’t hold the blame like a guillotine over your neck. You didn’t kill her, Dante.”

  He looked away, his gaze settling on something in the living room. “Not that day. But the day I found her going back for more, I took matters into my own hands. I drained her as she drained the others. It was the only way the killings were going to end. She’d told me that was the way she wanted to go.” He met Ariana’s gaze, heating her to the core. “Being drained by someone she loved.”

  “It’s the way I’d want to go,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “You did the right thing. The only thing you could do.”

  “I could’ve stayed away from her completely. I could’ve been stronger.” He brought his lips down on hers. “I could be stronger now.”

  “If you think staying away from me will show some sort of strength,” she said, taking a leap, “I don’t care if you’re ever strong again.”

  He didn’t laugh. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  “I don’t want you to separate yourself from me anymore.” Her heartbeat slowed to a murmur. “I don’t want you to be alone in this world any more than I want to be. I’ve found something in you that I thought I’d never find. You understand me, my desire to be independent and stand on my own feet.”

  “And I understand your desire to be taken care of, comforted under the wing of someone who can protect you.”

  “Whatever is flowing through you now, allowing us to be together, can flow through you tomorrow and the next day and the rest of our lives,” she said. “If you want it to.”

  “Ariana, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for someone to say that to me. How long I’ve waited for you to come into my life.” His shoulders seemed to droop, though they were every bit as sturdy and massive as they were before. “I can only stay on the drink today, maybe tonight, but even that’s pushing it.”

  “Why?”

  “It comes from a plant called Nightshade that grows outside of Black Moon’s walls.”

  Ariana nodded. “I know the flower. It grows on the far side of the cemetery. Do the rest of the Watchers drink it, or is it just you?”

  “I think all Watchers drink it, or at least they’re supposed to. They’re harvesting it somewhere in the forest, more than what you probably have growing beyond the cemetery.”

  “Then why can’t you drink it and feed off of that instead of—”

  “You?” he finished with a grimace. “Because it weakens me and lessens my abilities.”

  “You seemed to scale the haven wall and hurdle my balcony easily enough.”

  “It drained me more than I thought it would . . . and I had damned good motivation.” Dante’s arms coiled behind Ariana’s back and he dragged her close, into the warmth of his embrace. “The point is, when Savage comes I’ll be useless. That can’t and won’t happen. I won’t leave you to the wolves while I sit idly by, tipping back a Nightshade smoothie.”

  “You’re not the only one fighting for Black Moon, not anymore. Slade and Ruan and the vamps they brought with them will fight,” she said. “Besides, it’s not like I’m helpless. There are a lot of things I can do that you don’t even know about yet.”

  She meant sexually, but any trace of a smile that had curled the corners of his lips faltered.

  “The night I met you in the black market,” he said, stroking his hands up and down her back. “Juan Carlos announced you as a virgin . . .”

  “I was wondering why you asked earlier, when we were in the moment. I thought you were being a gentleman.” With a tug and a spin that took Dante off guard, Ariana tossed him back onto the bed. She straddled his hips and rubbed against him, skin to skin. “I was a virgin in the sense that I didn’t know my true maware.”

  His hands kneaded into her backside as confusion puzzled his brow. “But your maware is astral-projecting. You had to know it. It’s how you got to the black market in the first place.”

  “Yeah, but Juan Carlos didn’t know that.” A devious flare heated her middle as she adjusted herself over the rock-hard top of him.

  Every marbled muscle in his body went still. “I need you to know one more thing.”

  Oh God. “Yes?”

  “This was my first time . . .” His onyx eyes shifted, as if he was embarrassed to speak the words. “This was the first time that I ever allowed myself to . . . finish. If you know what I mean.”

  Ariana softened over him, going pliant in his arms. He was the virgin. “I know what you mean, but . . . how? Why?”

  “It’s difficult to separate physical from sexual hunger. Once I’m fed, once my needs are met, my body shuts down. But with you . . .” He thrust his hips, a tiny movement that made Ariana’s eyes roll back. “ . . . it’s a whole new world. I’ve never felt anything like this before. With you it’s different.”

  She rolled her hips, shivering with desire as his shaft swelled inside her. “Then different is damned good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “The end is near, and we’ve got front-row seats.”

  WATCHER ARCHIVE, REPORT ON SAVAGE

  DANTE’S STRENGTH WAS returning. Faster than he thought it would. It frightened the hell out of him. Especially because it meant he had to either resist the voices and push them to the background—which he didn’t know if he’d be able to do—or stay the hell away from Ariana so she wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire when the ticking time bomb inside him exploded.

  As if she knew he was thinking of her, Ariana made a little mewing sound in her sleep and snuggled tighter against him. Something shifted in his rib cage. He pulled the covers over her shoulder and tucked them under her neck.

  He was playing with fire. This couldn’t continue. He cared too much . . .

  She’d fallen asleep hours ago, nestled in his arms, tangled in her sheets. They’d made love twice more since he revealed the truth about his nature, and he still wasn’t sure she fully understood what they were getting themselves into.

  What he was getting himself into.

  She may think that what happened between them was a one-time thing—she
hadn’t said as much—but he didn’t feel that way. Not in the slightest.

  The longer he was with her, the more her skin brushed against his and the more she revealed the goodness of her spirit, the greater his resolve to make sure no other male stepped within ten feet of her.

  She was his.

  Yet he couldn’t stake any kind of claim to her. Only an inconsiderate ass would promise a future by her side when a hunger pain could strike at any moment.

  No, if he wanted to be with Ariana, the only option was to invest in Nightshade and harvest his own crop in the cemetery. But he’d be naïve to think Savage was the only threat they’d ever meet, wouldn’t he? When the next Big Bad came waltzing through town, how could he provide the type of protection Ariana would need, the type of protection she deserved, if he was sapped, his bones replaced with twigs and his muscles with limp rags?

  Lost in thought, Dante stroked Ariana’s hair well into the afternoon. He wondered what she was dreaming about. What made her twitch, tiny little jerks like she was running from something? And who was she talking to that made her lips pucker just so?

  God, she was beautiful.

  She had warm brown eyes that simmered with wit and intelligence, a smile that could light the dark in his heart, and a touch that soothed something inside him.

  Beyond the physical though, Ariana seemed to know Dante was different, a freak who did things that couldn’t be explained, yet she’d stayed in his arms anyway. She listened to the skeletons in his closet rattle and moan and didn’t run. She let him feel the deepest, most private part of her.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, stroking his hands over her hair, brushing a few loose strands out of her face. “I’d rather die than let harm come to you, by my doing or another’s.”

  He planted a kiss on her forehead, wiling the promise to tunnel deep.

  She heard him. Looked up into his eyes and said, “I don’t know when Savage will return or for how long we’ll be able to stay like this, but I know you won’t hurt me.”