In Her Shadows

by Michelle M. Pillow

Vladamir chuckled as if reading the memory.

  “And I obey because you threatened to change her if I dared to tell her how I felt. I’ve stayed hidden in her shadows unless I am called to duty by her guardians.” Jaxon would gladly spend the rest of his days in her shadows, even though it tortured him. Time would fly quickly, too quickly, and she would finish out her mortal life. He would have to watch her live, and then he would watch her die. That is how a human life should be. She should not be submitted to the darkness. Already she walked on the edge.

  “Vincent will kill her for what was done to him,” Vladamir stated. “For the secret she will never tell.”

  “Why do you care so much?” Jaxon asked. “She is one mortal in a sea of many. No one knows who killed the London club vampires over a decade ago, and vampires are slowly beginning to no longer care. Vincent is the only one still holding a grudge because his foot was melted off. Eventually, it will grow back, and he will move on.”

  “There was something in her face the night I met her. A look.” Vladamir appeared lost in thought.

  “When did you meet her again?”

  “My daughter had that look when I attacked her mother in the fever of turning,” Vladamir continued, ignoring the questions as he always had, “such confusion and fear, and the smell of innocence. It happened so long ago, but it has always haunted the edge of my dreams. And when I looked at Olivia, I remember that one faint trace of what I was. I tasted her blood, and the ghosts became stronger. That ecstasy and that pain dances along my memory like a play whose lines I have forgotten but yearn to remember.”

  “Then kill Vincent.” Jaxon leaned forward on his knees. Hunger ate at his stomach, but he didn’t feel like hunting and blood bags tasted worse than sewer rats.

  “I cannot. The elders protect him, and I am not ready to make myself known to them. Let them think I sleep.” The old vampire blurred, appearing before one of Olivia’s paintings. It was a dark red blotch of smoke and what looked to be fiery pieces of ash falling like snow over a brick road. “I will keep this one.”

  Jaxon frowned. He did not wish to let the painting go. They were the only pieces of Olivia he could have, and he wanted them all.

  “You don’t even know what this one is.” It was no surprise the powerful creature disregarded what Jaxon thought of his stealing. “It’s my portrait.”

  Chapter Four

  Olivia awoke, startled by the feeling that someone was in her room. She jumped up in bed, half expecting that Jaden would be standing over her with a sword. Her skin prickled in warning. She stumbled around the twisted bedding, arms lifted, as she waited for an attack.

  “Hello, sunshine.”

  Olivia frowned at the soft words and pushed the long strands of blonde hair out of her face before she lowered her arms. “Jaxon? Dammit. Didn’t we have this talk? It’s creepy to come into people’s bedrooms in the middle of the night.”

  “It’s my duty to protect you.” The tall man eased out of the shadows to stand before her. Though over a century dead and in modernized clothes, he still had the gait and subtle mannerisms of a cowboy. The paleness of death may have lightened his skin, but his Italian features gave his heritage away. His mother had been an Italian immigrant that spoke little English and his father a trader who’d settled in Montana. Dark hair fell to his shoulders. For the longest time, he had it cut shorter, but vampire hair grew so quickly, and it appeared he’d given up the battle.

  Olivia grumbled under her breath a series of incoherent sounds that added up to nothing but the need to show her displeasure.

  “What was that? I didn’t quite understand,” Jaxon probed. His eyes flashed with green. “Did you say, hello my moonbeam, so happy to see you again?”

  “Stop trying to read me,” she grumbled. And Jaxon Sebastiano is a stupid name for a vampire. You sound like a 1920s wannabe mobster.

  “Would you rather I choose a cool nickname?” he asked. “Jaxon the Impaler? Jaxon the Magnificent? Jack Shadow-walker? God Jaxon? Lars?”

  “Jaxon Window-peeper?” she offered, looking down at him from her place standing on the bed.

  “I looked in your window once. You screamed,” he defended.

  “I screamed because a creepy guy was looking in my window,” Olivia retorted.

  “You were having nightmares and screamed. That is why I looked. Then you screamed a second time. Servaes and Tyr ordered me to protect you, or they’d decapitate me. You scream, and I come running. You don’t say no to the old ones.”

  She grumbled again and kicked at the blankets pooled around her feet on the mattress.

  “I seem to remember that is not the only reason I made you scream.” He grinned.

  “And they say men had more manners in the 1800s,” Olivia quipped. “I thought gentlemen didn’t speak of such things.”

  “You have clearly been misinformed about the 1800s.” Jaxon laughed.

  “What do you want, Jack the Impaler? You’ve been hanging around for months now, and this is the first time you’ve bothered even to speak to me.” At the reminder, Olivia’s shoulders slumped some, and she waved her hand dismissively. She sat down on the bed. Jaxon was just another paid friend, a bodyguard, another person focused on keeping her alive, there because he had to be. “Go away. Go patrol. All is safe and sound here in my bed.”

  “I don’t like the feelings I’m detecting in you.” Jaxon frowned and made his way to the end of the bed. He stood, beautiful and strong, in his black long sleeve shirt and denim jeans. Should she have seen him in the bookstore, she would have smiled at him, if in this scenario she were a normal girl and he was a normal boy, that is. He was a handsome specimen of male-kind. “Why are those brown eyes of yours so sad? Talk to me.”

  “What’s the point? You’ll read whatever you want in my brain anyway. All of you do unless I concentrate on keeping you out.” Olivia fussed with her blankets, trying to create some semblance of a made bed. “I’m like some human pet you keep alive for gods know what reason.”

  “I’m here because I was commanded to guard you. I would have come as a friend had you ever invited me in.” He grabbed the end of her blankets and whipped them into the air to straighten them, causing the material to balloon up and settle gently over her legs. He then made his way along the side of the bed, moving with the liquid grace of his kind.

  “How could I invite you? This is the closest you’ve come to me in over a year. Normally I just sense you out there in the night, flittering around.”

  “I don’t flitter. No respectable vampire would be caught dead flittering.” His finger lifted, and he traced the jagged scar along her collarbone—a gift from the second vampire she’d ever met. Though Vincent had been vicious in his attack on her and her parents, Vladamir’s calm threat is what terrified her in her dreams.

  Her heart quickened at his touch. His fingers weren’t cool which meant he’d fed before coming to her. At one time she would have thought there could be something between them, but his orders to protect her and her resentment at being a duty had kept them from more. That, and he came in and out of her life like the seasons, sometimes disappearing for a year at a time. “I like that you’re not as old as the others. You don’t have that bored, jadedness to you. I don’t envy the eternity you face. I would hate to see what you are like three hundred years from now.”

  A strange expression passed over Jaxon’s features and he lowered his chin to study her intently. Very slowly, he extended his fingers to press along her upper chest. Brown eyes flashed with green, revealing that he again tried to read her thoughts. He closed his eyes and held very still for a long moment. She felt him searching inside her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, not pulling away. He’d never touched her tenderly like this. The warmth of his fingers against her flesh caused her to shiver. Intimate contact was almost unfamiliar.

  Sure, Hathor would hug her around the shoulders and pat her hand. Servaes had cupped her cheeks a few times. Tyr had thrown her on the gro
und in an effort to make her aware of a vampire’s strength and her need for caution, and Jaden taught her how to fight. Those were not the same as a man touching a woman.

  “Humans,” he whispered. “You are so full of emotions. I smell your pain in your blood. I feel the breaking in your heart. You’re frightened.” Jaxon opened his eyes. “You’re scared of me?” He nodded. “Yes. You should be. You should be terrified of all of us. We are horrible creatures who have done monstrous—”

  “He’s back,” Olivia broke in. “I felt him by the water tonight. The other didn’t seem to notice, but I felt a thread of him winding in the air.”

  “Who?”

  Olivia opened her mouth but then thought better of revealing the truth. He had warned her not to speak of what happened, and the little girl inside of her screamed that warning.

  “Speak of who?” His tone became more demanding. Jaxon touched Vincent’s scar. “Him?”

  Lie! the little voice demanded.

  “Yes,” Olivia lied.

  “I will tell your guardians it is time to move you,” he stated. “I have heard rumors that Vincent is in the area. You have confirmed it.”

  A new fear hit Olivia at the admission. Vincent might not hold a starring role in all of her nightmares, but he was still there. “You’ve heard rumors? Were you going to tell me?”

  “I’m telling you.”

  “What else are you keeping from me?” She threw the covers off her legs and strode to the window. She peered out into the darkness, unable to see much beyond the street lamp of the quiet neighborhood. Vladamir and Vincent were both here? When he didn’t answer, she turned to study him. “What else?”

  He looked as if he wanted to answer but then shook his head in denial.

  “You said we’re friends?” Olivia asked.

  He nodded. “If you wish it.”

  “Then as my friend I want you to promise me you’ll kill me before you let Vincent or anyone else take me. I’m not suicidal, but I do not want to be Vincent’s, or the tribal council’s, or anyone’s plaything. I don’t want to be a vampire. I don’t want to be a pet, or bound, or a servitor, or marked again, or—”

  “Marked again?” Jaxon was before her in an instant, gripping her arms and leaning close to her mouth. He searched her lip to see if anyone had bit her there. Lip markings were the most common. When a human breathed, they sent out a certain trace that the marking vampire could follow. It also served as a more intimate marking, claiming the human as their own so that others would stay away.

  Olivia thought about the scar on her arm before she could think to block the memory. Jaxon detected it. He lifted her arm and examined the old wound. “You always said this was an old cut.”

  “It is.” She tried to pull her arm away, but he held tighter.

  He pressed his nose and mouth against her forearm. The gesture pulled the memory of Vladamir doing that exact same thing out of her mind. Ash began to fall on them. A feathery piece landed on his head, and then another. The room dissolved into old brick streets. Bursts of light popped around her as she watched vampires die. Within a few seconds, the vision was gone, and she was again in her pajamas standing before her handsome bodyguard.

  “Vladamir is responsible for the club vampire massacre,” Jaxon said as he lifted his head. “That is why you never told. I always thought he wanted you alive because he wanted to learn the name from you. But you were the witness to his deed. That is why he—”

  Olivia pressed her mouth forward and kissed him, cutting off his words. It was the only thing she could think of to distract him. She couldn’t have him saying the old vampire’s name, couldn’t have him detect the plan that had been forming in her brain for years. Her body was starved for pleasure as the familiar lips formed against hers.

  She felt Jaxon try to pull away and so gripped him tighter. The passion he had for her was in his kiss. He wanted her. She wanted him. Damn duty or commands or the wishes of those who kept her safe. When would life be hers to decide?

  “They’re all gone. You can stop worrying about us getting caught,” she whispered against his mouth. “That’s why they called you here. They’re having a secret meeting to plan my future and they don’t want me to know yet that we’re going to move again.”

  Jaxon pulled away from her mouth to study her. “You can read minds?”

  “No, I’m just not an idiot child. I’ve been through this dance before.” Olivia tugged at his shirt, half-unbuttoning, half-pulling him out of it. A button snapped off and clattered across the floor. Her hand moved over his smooth, naked chest to push it over his shoulders. “Still think I’m scared of you, Jack the Impaler?”

  “Every time I think you’ll react like other humans, you surprise me. You’re not scared of me, are you? You’re scared of something, but it’s not me, and it’s not what I am.” Silver and blue threads made their way through the brown of his eyes, giving away the desire inside of him. Vampires weren’t hard to figure out once she knew what to look for. He pushed the hair back from her face. The tips of his fingernails grazed her scalp. “You are exquisite.”

  Olivia felt a tremor start inside her stomach, rooted in all the things she didn’t dare to want—a life without the constant threat of something horrible, a lover, love. The sensation worked its way through her, unfurling over her chest and arms as if carried by her blood. Red joined the silver and blue lust in his eyes. Red. Bloodlust. He wanted to bite her.

  She stepped away from him and the window, backing toward the bed. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and pushed her pajamas from her hips, taking the underwear with it until she stood naked before him. “Come here, vampire.”

  “I’m supposed to be the one controlling you,” he answered. “Whoever heard of a human seducing a vampire? I try to resist you. Every time I try.”

  “Women have been controlling men since before the first vamp was born. We only let you think you’re in charge.” Olivia smirked in challenge. Arousal flooded her veins. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t broken the rules before.”

  Jaxon strode across the floor to her, and she was in his arms before she could take a full breath. Her naked chest pressed against his. His hands found the tender flesh of her ass and back. In the few moments that they were like this, her world no longer felt so broken. It was still fucked up, but not broken.

  The length of his arousal begged to be released. She reached for his waistband, undoing his pants only to push them off his legs. He kicked off his shoes, not letting go of her. Her hands glided over his flesh as she explored the familiar lines of his chest and back. When he kissed her, his fang nicked her lip, and the flavor of her blood heightened the kiss.

  Jaxon moaned and lifted her from the ground as if she had no weight. Ignoring the bed, he pressed her up against the wall. The length of his arousal nestled against her thigh. He always knew just how to touch her. The passion in their blood connected them.

  Olivia didn’t want rose petals and candles. She needed the wild, heart-quickening, nail-scratching abandon of his touch. The mindless void of pleasure called out to them. His name left her lips, begging him to continue, “Jaxon, Jaxon…”

  His answer was a bestial sound in the back of his throat. He deepened the kiss, nearly stealing her breath as he brought his body to hers. There was no denying their need. The stolen minutes could be taken from them at any moment.

  Eagerly he thrust, filling her completely with his shaft. Olivia clung to him, holding on as he kept her suspended above the floor. The wall rubbed her back, helping to steady her as he thrust. His desperate movements met her willing hips.

  Olivia pulled her head back with a gasp for air. He’d never bit her before, and the taste of blood in her mouth made her want him to do it again. She shoved his head to her neck, practically forcing his teeth to cut her. The tiny pain was nothing to the pleasure.

  Before he bit, she felt him inside her, taking away the pain, whispering sweet thoughts of pleasure as he drank from her neck.
His hand had taken hold of her breast and moved in kneading caresses against it.

  She met her release with a soft cry, feeling his body jerk as it joined hers in the moment. The intimacy held her in its grip as he pulled his mouth away from her flesh. A look of horror passed over his features as if he just realized what he’d done. He dropped her legs and stepped back. The abrupt departure caused her to stumble before she could right herself against the wall. She held the headboard of the bed for support.

  Jaxon bit his finger and reached for her neck, using his blood to heal the feeding wound he’d created. “Olivia, I…”

  “If you say you’re sorry, I’ll…” She frowned and lifted her finger to her cut lip. “Did you mark me? I’ve had it explained to me, but I don’t get how it works. This is a mark,” she lifted her arm before pointing to Vincent’s wound, “but this one doesn’t seem to be unless I’m mistaken or he just never uses it,” she touched her lip, “but this?”

  “I didn’t mean to feed off you,” he said, as if not listening to her words.

  “Dammit, Jaxon. I don’t care that you had a snack. What I do care about is that you marked me.”

  “Drinking wounds don’t mark as well because we swallow the blood, like a snake charmer sucking out the poison of a snakebite. Marks we don’t drink as deeply and—”

  “Well thanks for the biology lesson, professor,” Olivia growled, pushing him in the chest. “Why the hell did you mark me? Why now? We’ve done this before, and you’ve never—”

  “I want to protect you,” he admitted. At least he didn’t lie and say it was an accident. “I can tell you’re up to something and I wanted to be able to find you if…”

  “I am so tired.” She shook her head and took a deep breath.

  “Of course.” Jaxon reached for the bedding and held it up. “Forgive me. Humans exhaust quickly. You should rest.”

  Olivia glared at him. She didn’t need sleep. She needed to punch something. Somehow she refrained. “I’m tired of all of you clinging on to me, protecting me, like some pet human so you can relive your humanity, so you can make up for the lives you took, so you can feel like you’re doing some good. I get it. Immortality sucks ass. Killing and drinking blood bites the big one. But I’m not your pet. I’m not yours to control. I am a human and God gave me free will to make my own way in life. I’m sorry if your gods cursed you. Mine cursed me too. So get over yourselves and stop trying to dictate my life.”