Sigrid’s chest heaved with every harsh, erratic breath, and desire burned throughout her body, throbbing and aching. She glanced down at Kara, watching as Kara bent lower, kissing her stomach. “W-what are you doing?” she gasped.
Kara paused when she reached the woman’s hips. She glanced up at Sigrid, a mischievous smirk curling at her lips. “Kissing you. Obviously.”
“Then, why are you…ahh…” Sigrid’s words were cut short when Kara lowered her head and trailed her tongue over the curve of Sigrid’s hipbone.
Kara spread the woman’s soft, fleshy thighs and knelt between her legs. Sigrid gasped as Kara’s lips pressed against the inside of her thigh. Sigrid’s moans grew deeper and more frequent as Kara trailed her lips upward and inward, planting warm, open-mouthed kisses against Sigrid’s soft, fair skin, until Kara reached her destination between the woman’s legs. A soft, cry-like moan escaped Sigrid’s lips, her fingers entangling in Kara’s hair, as Kara’s tongue swept against her.
And…that’s when Alana barged in, dragging a man’s body behind her.
Alana scowled at the sight of Kara’s head between the woman’s legs. She dropped the blood-soaked body on the floor of the shack and planted her hands on her hips. “Kara, I know you know that I’m standing here,” she chided.
Sigrid let out a shocked, horrified squeal and scrambled back on the bed, pulling herself into a less compromising position. She crossed her arms across her chest, covering her breasts as well as she could. Her mouth fell open in shock as soon as she saw Alana. She stared, momentarily stunned by Alana’s beauty.
“Of course I knew you were standing there,” Kara said as she turned around, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She smiled. “But I wasn’t finished.”
Alana narrowed her eyes. “That is rude.”
“So is interrupting,” Kara countered, “but you didn’t mind doing that.”
Sigrid seemed to finally snap out of her daze. She screamed, suddenly, her green eyes widening, as she noticed the body lying in the floor. “Is he dead?!”
“Kara, tell your annoying girlfriend to shut up,” Alana growled.
Kara’s lips tilted into a mischievous smirk. “Shut up,” she said to Alana.
Alana’s dark blue eyes flashed with murderous rage. “Not me!”
Kara shrugged one shoulder. “You weren’t specific.”
Sigrid gaped at Alana, paling in horror. “Is that blood on your face?!”
Alana wiped her hand across her face, frowning as she examined the blood that coated her hand afterward. “Yes, that is blood,” she answered simply.
Utterly terrified, the woman jumped off the bed, wrapped a wool blanket around her naked body, and ran, fleeing out into the cold, snowy night.
“You forgot your dress!” Kara yelled out pointlessly.
“I need your help,” Alana said, casually licking the blood off of her hand.
“Of course you do,” Kara muttered. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Alana rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that.”
“This is the fourth night in a row, Alana,” Kara complained, lazily climbing to her feet. “Do you know how hard it is to find lesbians around here?”
“Ugh,” Alana groaned. “You’re always complaining. It’s so annoying.”
Kara raised an eyebrow at the hypocrisy of that statement.
“Unlike you, I have real problems,” Alana complained, gesturing toward the motionless, armor-clad body on the floor. “I need your help with Erik.”
“Erik?” Kara repeated, glancing down at the man lying in the floor—a tall, lanky man with wavy, blonde hair. Her eyes widened as she noticed that his heart was still beating. “Please, tell me you didn’t do something this stupid.”
Alana glared at her. “I can do whatever I want to do,” she growled.
“Is that what you’re going to tell Aaron?” Kara said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember how angry he was when you turned me into a vampire?”
“I’m not afraid of Aaron,” Alana muttered indignantly. Her dark blue gaze shifted toward the door as she heard another scream. “We should hurry.”
“Yeah,” Kara agreed, “before the angry mob comes after us.”
“I need your help carrying Erik up to the cave,” Alana stated.
Kara glanced down at him. “So, this is him, huh? You couldn’t kill him?”
“I did kill him,” Alana corrected. “I just didn’t leave him dead. I figured that he would be more useful to me as a vampire than he would as a corpse.”
“How romantic,” Kara muttered sarcastically.
“He told me that he wanted to be with me forever,” Alana added.
Kara laughed, “He’ll probably regret those words for the rest of eternity.”
“He wanted forever,” Alana said irritably. “I gave him what he asked for.”
Kara raked her fingers back through her long, brownish-blonde hair. “Alana,” she sighed, exasperated. “When humans say forever, they don’t mean the same thing that vampires mean when we say forever. Humans are very dramatic, especially when they think they’re in love. They think forever means a few years, a few nights, a few minutes even. You know you can’t believe what a human says.”
“He’ll be with me forever,” Alana stated, “whether he wants to or not.”
Kara glanced down at the unconscious man. “Poor guy,” she muttered.
“You know,” Alana mused, twirling a strand of her pale blonde hair around her finger, “I could take control of your mind right now and command you to cut out your own tongue, and you would have to do it.” She smiled. “Then, I would never have to listen to you say anything like that again.”
Kara didn’t even flinch at the threat. Instead, she flashed a flirty smile at Alana. “You’d never do that. You like my tongue too much,” she quipped.
Alana wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, why must you be so crass?”
Kara laughed, not the least bit offended by the insult. She again glanced at the unconscious man in the floor—the man who was currently in the midst of transforming into a vampire. Although his bite wound had already healed, bloodstains still covered his neck and face, and his chainmail armor still looked wet with blood. Kara frowned at the familiar design of the armor. “So,” she said impatiently, “are we going to stare at your boyfriend all night, or are we leaving?”
“He looks peaceful,” Alana commented.
“He looks dead,” Kara corrected.
Alana scowled. “Oh, don’t be so self-righteous. You kill people, too.”
“Sure, but I usually do it before they declare their love for me,” Kara muttered. Still squinting curiously at the armor that he wore, she knelt in front of the man and dragged her fingertip over the chainmail, examining the design. “I recognize this design. This is Norse armor. It’s a lot like mine,” she mumbled thoughtfully. She turned toward Alana, lifting an eyebrow. “He’s a Viking.”
Alana shrugged. “Yeah,” she said irritably. “What’s your point?”
Kara stood gracefully, her brown, leather clothing smoothing over her skin as she straightened. She flashed a taunting smile at Alana. “I just find it strange. For someone who hates Vikings so much, you sleep with a lot of us.”
Alana shot her a peeved look. “I also kill a lot of you.”
“I know,” Kara said, crossing her arms. “You killed me.”
“Can’t you smell the power in his blood?” Alana asked.
“Of course,” Kara said, shrugging. “Why does that matter?”
“He has power, like me. A psychic ability of some kind. That makes him useful to me,” Alana said. She stepped closer to Kara, her pale blonde hair falling around her shoulders as she tilted her face up toward Kara’s, a cruel smile curling at her lips. Her blood-scented breath fell against Kara’s lips as she hissed, “Useful. Just like you. That’s the only reason I was ever with either of you.”
Kara stared down at Alana. She knew that Alana wanted her to
react to the insult, which is exactly why she didn’t. Instead, she just smiled. “Don’t worry, Alana. I would never make the mistake of thinking you were capable of love.”
Alana’s lips curved downward. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”
“Of course not,” Kara laughed, her piercing, cornflower eyes sparkling mischievously. “You would have to actually have feelings for it to do that.”
Alana attempted to slap Kara, but Kara caught her wrist. Kara twisted her arm, spinning Alana around and pinning her arm behind her back in one, swift motion. Alana growled, frustrated that Kara had restrained her so easily. She glared over her shoulder, at Kara. “Remind me why I haven’t killed you yet.”
Kara leaned forward, her warm breath falling against Alana’s ear. “Because, like you said, I’m useful. You’ve never met anyone as skilled as I am,” she taunted, nipping playfully at Alana’s ear, “on the battlefield…or in bed.”
Alana rolled her eyes at Kara’s teasing. “Must you always be so vulgar?”
Kara laughed and released Alana’s arm. “Yep,” she quipped, stepping back as Alana turned toward her. “It’s one of the five pillars of the Viking code. Fighting, drinking, sex, food, and vulgarity.” She listed each word on her fingers.
Alana frowned at her. “I don’t think that’s the Viking code.”
“Besides,” Kara added, ignoring Alana’s objection to her remark, “you already have the delicate-little-princess thing covered enough for the both of us.”
Alana glared at her. “We need to leave, and I need you to carry Erik.”
“Why me?” Kara complained. “I didn’t kill the guy.”
Alana gestured toward the flowing, pale blue dress that covered her soft, petite figure. “I don’t want to get my dress dirty,” she said, as if it were obvious.
Kara stared blankly at her. “Like I said…delicate, little princess.”
Alana’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re not wearing a dress,” she added.
“I don’t even know how you walk in those things,” Kara muttered.
Alana ignored her off-hand remark. “I’ll meet you in the cave.”
Kara glanced at the man on the floor. “How are you going to break the news to your lover-boy that you killed him and turned him into a monster?”
“I’m not,” Alana said, flashing a cute smile at her. “You are.”
Kara narrowed her eyes at Alana. “Me?”
Alana shrugged. “I figured you’d be the best one to explain it to him,” she said nonchalantly, “since I killed you and turned you into a vampire, too.”
Kara’s eyebrows lifted. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with your inability to take responsibility for your own actions,” she muttered sarcastically.
“Oh, don’t whine about it,” Alana grumbled. “It’ll be easy. He’ll wake up tomorrow night, and I’ll leave early so he can’t get angry with me. You can explain it to him, and I’ll come back later…after everything is straightened out.”
Kara sighed, “Alana, I am starving. You can’t force me to go another night without feeding. I would have fed tonight, but you ran off my date.”
Alana scowled. “How is it my fault that your date ran off?”
Kara stared blankly at her. “Oh, I have no idea,” she said sarcastically. She glared pointedly at Erik’s half-dead body lying in the middle of the floor, his blood soaking into the wood. “Nothing says romance like a fresh corpse.”
Alana scowled at Kara’s sarcasm. “Romance involves flowers and poetry. There was nothing romantic about what you were doing to that woman.”
Kara smirked. “I thought it was pretty poetic.”
Alana ignored that. “Besides, he’s not a corpse. Well, not anymore.”
Kara pressed the palm of her hand against her stomach as the intense, painful hunger gnawed at her insides. “Alana,” she pleaded. “I have to feed.”
“Well,” Alana said, stepping closer, “we’ll be back in the cave soon.”
Kara’s light blue eyes darkened with hunger. “Yeah?” she breathed.
Alana lifted her hand and ran her fingertip over Kara’s soft, thin lips, until Kara parted her lips. “I was thinking that maybe we could,” she paused, dragging her finger across one of Kara’s fangs, purposely cutting her own finger, “spend the rest of the night together.” She held her finger out, smiling as Kara stared hungrily at the drop of blood that surfaced on Alana’s fingertip. “Unless, of course, my blood isn’t good enough for you anymore,” she added, pouting.
Kara leaned forward and sucked the drop of blood off of Alana’s finger. The blood tasted sweet and powerful, and it brought her a sense of relief and intensified her ravenous hunger, all at once. Her icy blue gaze met Alana’s gaze, as Alana moaned at the sensation. “Actually,” Kara said in her low, lilting voice, as she placed her hands on Alana’s hips and pulled Alana’s smaller, softer body against hers. She leaned closer, a bitter smile curving at her lips as she countered, “I was under the impression that I wasn’t good enough for you anymore.”
Alana looped her arms around Kara’s neck, her smile deepening. “Ah, you know better than that,” she scolded, tilting her face up, closer to Kara’s face, as if she were going to kiss her. “As frustrating as you are, you’re still mine.”
Kara bent her head and pressed her lips against the curve of Alana’s neck, causing Alana to moan softly, as her tongue traced the path of the artery.
Alana lifted herself on her toes so that she could press her lips to Kara’s ear. “I feel so,” she paused, gasping as Kara sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her, “exhilarated tonight.”
“Really?” Kara said lowly, leaning back on her heels, smiling at Alana.
“Of course,” Alana said, unfurling her arms from around Kara’s neck and turning to leave. She leaned against the door as she waited for Kara to pick up Erik and follow her outside. “I always feel exhilarated after I kill someone.”
Kara blinked in shock. “You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” she muttered under her breath, “because that’s the only thing you have going for you.”
The Fanged Serial Killer
1,301 years later…
Rose pressed her hands against the wet, tile wall of the shower as the warm water poured over her, washing the blood from her skin. She stared at the shower floor, watching the water move around her feet, her long, thick hair forming a red curtain around her face that obscured the rest of the shower from her vision. In an attempt to soothe her aching chest, she breathed in slowly and deeply, and then, after a moment, she exhaled that deep breath. She told herself that she was okay, repeated it like a mantra, but mere words couldn’t stop the images that plagued her mind…the memories, the flashbacks—the dagger slicing into her skin, inflicting agony that she couldn’t escape; the cold fear and despair that hollowed out her chest; the coldness of death washing over her; the darkness.
From somewhere outside the shower, a door swung open and crashed against the wall, but Rose’s mind was too far away to notice the jarring noise. The shower door slid open, and then two arms came around her, lifting her out of the shower and setting her on the black rug that covered the bathroom floor.
“Rose,” she heard him say. “Baby, look at me. Can you hear me?”
Rose stared at the rug beneath her feet, watching as water slid over her skin and soaked into the rug, her vision blurring, as she began to hyperventilate.
“It’s not real, Rose,” Kallias said slowly, his words gentle and soothing.
Rose lifted her head to look at him, her mind slowly beginning to clear.
“Hey,” Kallias said with a forced, worried smile, “are you okay?”
“Obviously not,” Rose muttered, the despair bleeding into her words.
“It’s over now. What you keep seeing—it’s not real,” he reminded her.
“But it is real,” Rose argued. “It’s just not happening right now.”
His brows creased with concern. She seemed so depressed, so resigned. “You’re traumatized. After what happened to you, this is expected. It’s normal.”
“I know how trauma works. This isn’t my first rodeo,” Rose muttered.
“Then, stop beating yourself up about things you can’t control,” he said.
Her bright blue eyes still seemed distant, as if her mind was still back there, reliving that night. She slowly shifted her gaze down to her body, watching the water that poured over her bare skin. “Kallias,” she said slowly. “I’m naked.”
His lips twitched. “I’d like to say that I’m a total gentleman and didn’t notice, but,” he paused, his light brown eyes dancing with amusement, “I’m not.”
Rose frowned at him. “How can you still want me? With these…scars?”
His smile faded, and his brows furrowed. “Do I need to take off my shirt to remind you what my skin looks like?” he asked, gesturing toward the black, button-down shirt that covered his own gruesomely-scarred, golden skin.
She shrugged tiredly and glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes narrowing at the deeply-carved scars on her stomach and chest. “Normally, I’d be extremely embarrassed by now, but…I don’t have the energy to feel anything.”
Kallias sighed, sympathetic pain flashing in his light brown eyes, and he turned away to pick up the black towel that Rose had left folded on the counter.
Meanwhile, Rose stared absently at her reflection, still unnerved by how different she looked. She hardly recognized herself, and staring at this stranger in the mirror made her queasy. For the most part, her features looked the same, and yet, each and every part of her appearance seemed different somehow. Her long, red hair looked brighter and softer than before. Her pale, freckled skin still looked fair, but her complexion had changed somehow. It had become smoother and softer. It looked perfect. The red blotches that had sometimes colored her skin had disappeared, and the purple-colored skin that usually rested beneath her eyes had also disappeared. Her bright blue eyes seemed even brighter than before, and her eyelashes looked thicker and longer. Her lips looked fuller and pinker. “Is it because I’m a vampire now?” Rose asked. Her voice sounded so dull, still. So exhausted and depressed. “Is that why you still find me attractive?”
The Tomb of Blood Page 2