Forever Black (Nightwalkers 2)

by H. N. Sieverding

"Now, stop blaming people." Lucas began wrapping gauze around Caleb's middle to hold the giant piece he had placed over Caleb's back. "That's not going to help, right now."

  "Oh, Caleb…" Ashleigh grabbed Caleb's arm and looped hers in it. She was sobbing now, unable to hold back the guilt she bore. "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry." Her fingers hooked into his. She now wore her engagement ring that Caleb had had custom made, something she hadn't done for the past few months.

  "It's fine. I told you…" Caleb laughed as he turned his head to her. His free hand reached up to her face and cradled her cheek. "I've been through this before. No sweat." His thumb wiped away some of her hot tears, the tips of his fingers disappearing under the brim of her hat. "It's all good, I promise." He picked up their joined hands and kissed hers. "So, don't cry. You know me. I can handle a little pain."

  "I'll be right back." Lucas spoke to them, but neither was listening. Shaking his head, Lucas let out a tired sigh and left the room.

  "I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms loosely around Caleb's neck. Her words were choked as she continued to cry. "This is all my fault."

  "No," Caleb cooed to her, closing his eyes as he took a few deep breaths. He was in a lot of pain, but he was hiding it well. "Come on, don't cry."

  He leaned forward and began kissing her. His action was slow, his kisses tender and weak. He wasn't the playful Caleb he usually was, the loss of blood making him dizzy and slightly disorientated.

  "Caleb?" She pulled away from him and studied his worn out expression. She pushed up her coat to reveal her bare arm, the weaved friendship bracelets on her wrists bouncing with her action. She presented her fisted hand, her palm facing upward. Her words were soft. "Do you want to drink from me?"

  "I—" He regarded her strangely. His gaze went from her arm slowly up to her eyes.

  "It's okay. I just ate." She forced a smile as she sniffled back her tears. "Please." She pushed her lips together firmly as she tried not to cry. Glancing briefly toward the door when she heard several footsteps, she chose to ignore them and turn her attention back to Caleb. "Take it. Vampire blood is stronger than human blood. It'll help you get better faster."

  His voice was barely audible as he observed to her. "Okay." Bringing her wrist to his open lips, he readied himself to bite her.

  When she felt his bite, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Caleb gently rubbed her shoulder, and she tried to focus on that sensation instead. Big tears fell from her tightly closed lids, a small hiss escaping her lips. Her head turned to the side as she fought the urge to cry out.

  "Ashleigh." Lucas' voice was soft, and the sound made Ashleigh open her eyes.

  She glanced at the men standing in the doorway. Her eyes tried to avoid the Count's, so they fell on Lucas instead. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her nose wrinkled upwards.

  "Caleb," Lucas’ voice rose slightly, "Stop."

  Caleb slowly pulled away. He licked his lips as he stared at Ashleigh. A grateful smirk graced his face, that bad boy spark returning to his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, leaving a bloodied mark on her skin. "Thanks, babe. I feel a lot better now."

  Looking at her love was so much easier than glancing over at the Count's angry face. She could feel his eyes on her and seemed to be able to sense his expression without having to look.

  Putting her wrist to mouth, she sipped some of her own blood. She had told Caleb she had just eaten, but that was a lie. She was starving. Her eyes went to the Count's as she sniffled back her tears. She wasn't strong enough to share her blood, and she was on the verge of passing out.

  "Hey," Caleb laughed. He reached over, grabbed a piece of gauze near him, and put it on her wound. "Let me help with that." His voice quickly took hold of all of her attention, and Ashleigh turned to him and sent him a sweet smile.

  "Caleb." Lucas’ voice was more commanding. His brow lowered as he tried to get his son's attention once more.

  "Yeah?" Caleb glanced at him then at the Count. He didn't know who any of the men were. After taking a few seconds to scan their angry expressions, Caleb's suspicious eyes turned to Lucas. "What's up?"

  "Here." Ashleigh quickly stood and handed Caleb his shirt. "Let me help you. I should go, so they can talk to you. Nathan's probably freaking out that I snuck out, anyway. He's such a girl about stuff like that." She leaned forward and gave Caleb a quick kiss. "I'll see you later."

  She pulled down on the brim of her hat and tried to slide past the Count and the others, but they wouldn't move from the doorway. "Umm…" She bumped into the solid mass that was the Count. This made her quickly look up, her perfectly painted eyes avoiding his and turning to Lucas instead. "Master Mason? What's going on?" She was scratching at the bandage on her wrist. Her head was reeling, but she was trying to play it off.

  "I'm hungry." The Count spoke, the tone so deep it sliced through her like a knife. He had an amazing voice, suave and smooth, yet commanding and powerful. He sent her a very excited grin when he saw her fear. It revealed his large fangs. "I wish for you to feed me as well." He grabbed her arm and squeezed her bandaged wrist. The action made her wince and let out a small hiss.

  Caleb quickly hopped off the table. "Hey." His brow was lowered, a challenging tone to his voice as he advanced on the Count. "Stop it."

  "Caleb." His father pulled him back and whispered in his ear, "That's the Count. Watch your words."

  Ashleigh tried to pull away from the Count, her scared eyes begging as they connected with Caleb's. When she pulled again, the Count squeezed her wrist tighter. This quickly got her attention. She spoke in a pleading tone, "I can't feed you." She gazed into his face, his intense emerald eyes burning into hers. She could see his anger. "I'm starving. I—"

  "She's not some donor. That's my girl." Caleb didn't heed his father's warning. His hand motioned toward Ashleigh. "Leave her alone." Lucas tried to grab for him, but Caleb artfully dodged his father. Caleb grabbed Ashleigh's arm and yanked on it as he tried to pull her away from Count. "I'll go and find you something to eat, your grace. Don't hurt her."

  "Hurt her?" The Count raised his hand, a powerful breeze shooting from his palm and knocking Caleb to the ground. Caleb groaned, the wounds on his back stinging. He struggled to get to his feet, but kept falling to his knees.

  "Caleb!" Ashleigh tried to escape, but the Count took a firmer hold on her. Her voice was wet and shrill, "Caleb!"

  The Count pulled her out of the room, Ashleigh frantically struggling to get away. Her fight was making her weak, and her vision had gotten so blurry she could hardly see. The Count could feel her weakness, but he didn't acknowledge it.

  He took her to a limo waiting for them outside. The Count was rough with her and tossed her inside. Her body slid across the slick, leather seats and slammed into the door. The Count entered after her.

  "You," He yanked her to him. "Will be punished for being unfaithful to me."

  "Caleb's my fiancé. I wasn't—" Her words were halted when the Count grabbed a generous chunk of her hair. A high-pitched yipe escaped her lips as she tried to remove his grip.

  He leaned close to her ear as she whimpered. He whispered, his words like liquid ice being poured inside and numbing her entire body. "What vile words you spill. After tonight, his blood will never linger in your taste. You will become mine…completely." He ripped the hat from her head. "You unfaithful whore!"

  Leaping forward, he slammed her body against the window. His fangs embedded into the soft flesh of her neck. She belted out a mighty scream, her hands frantically trying to pry him off. His bite was excruciating, and he wasn't letting up. He bit at her repeatedly, and with each new plunge of his fangs, she screamed louder. Soon, she passed out.

  Chapter Five

  The Count's voice was soft, "Feeling better?"

  She struggled to open her eyes as his fingers stroked the skin of her face. Her whole body was trembling, a great hunger filling her chest.

  His words were like butter, sweetness in them that
was all a mirage. "Apologize to me, and I shall forgive you."

  Her mind was so muddled, she couldn't concentrate. "For what?"

  "Soon, it will be like it was." His fingers moved in slow circles down her cheek and neck. "You will love me again. God cannot hide you from me. No one can. We are together again, and our blood will be thick and joined."

  Her eyes fluttered open then gradually closed. She recited a line from Nightwalkers, as if she were speaking to Nicolas and not the Count. "’In dreams, your emerald eyes haunt me. Like a plague that fills my heart with the false joy of sin and never allows me to forget…’"

  She released a slow exhale, her body feeling numb and tingly. The world swayed around her like the slow, steady tides of the ocean. "’The sharp bloody kiss of the devil. A kiss masked by the sweetest of magic—one that surpasses all others and cuts deeper than the mere sin of wrongful brushing of lips.’"

  "You invent these…these…disgusting characters in your books," he hissed. She felt his hand leave her skin. The bed moved slightly. "Mocking me and turning your love into a monster. How could you do such a thing? Why did you feel the need to invent some fictional prince to save you from me?"

  His voice rose. "Disgust does not begin to describe how hurtful your words have been. The devil…" The next words dripped off his lips like thick drops of blood, a snarl to his voice that was mimicked by his curled lip, "The man who has held vigil for you for hundreds of years…waiting an eternity for you to be reborn."

  An angry huff of air escaped his nostrils. "So that I can look into your eyes instead of your sleeping form in my catacombs. I have done terrible things, and I am not a good man, but I have never hurt you. None of the things you have written about me are true. You loved me. How can you betray me? Sleeping with that boy and calling him your prince?"

  She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn't budge. Her words came out breathless, "I don't remember you. I'm…sorry."

  "Then, let me show you." He laid his hands over her eyelids.

  When she opened them, she was trapped in a vision that the Count's magic had created. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she peered down at a party below. It was cold where she stood, far from the warm reaches of the fire. But she didn't want to move. Her long, black hair fell down one of her shoulders in a thick curl, a giant silver comb in the back of her ponytail that fanned out like a halo.

  "’Tis cold in the shadows." The Count appeared behind her, and his hand slipped around her waist.

  She turned to him slowly. A loving smile filled out her lips as she gazed into his handsome face. His eyes sparkled with a yellowish light, his suit black with a tuff of red popping out the collar.

  "No." Her words were low and sweet. "’Tis cold outside your arms. When I know what lies in the shadows, I shall never fear the dark."

  "You are the beacon that lights the darkness that envelopes me." He chuckled as his wolf-like eyes captured hers. His whitish blond hair was slicked back into a long ponytail. "Even as a dark queen, you still possess the softness of an angel's wings. I could never fully taint you, yet you choose to wallow in the thick sins of the devil. Such a man as I am undeserving of such a coveted lady."

  "Drake…" Her hand reached up to his face. Her soft fingers barely kissed the surface of his skin. "Do not try and sway me with your loving words." A small laugh escaped her lips. "Where have you been? I have waited centuries for you to find me."

  "This shall make you grateful for the gift of endless time I have blessed you with." He leaned his head closer to her neck and planted a few kisses behind her ear. They were tense, as if he was holding back the need to devour her.

  Her words were a soft whisper, "Forever would be torture, if it meant missing a single day spent in your arms." Though they were speaking in a foreign tongue, Ashleigh could understand their every word. "And your kiss…the amazing kiss that only my love can produce. Taste me." Her head was thrown back as she took in the pleasure of his lips.

  Closing her eyes, her words were breathless, "I want nothing more than to be captured on your tongue, my blood becoming part of you." Her hands moved leisurely up and down his back, her light touch barely kissing the surface of his coat. "You tease, my love."

  "Do you not wish to feed first?" He pointed to the crowd below. "Choose your fountain, and I shall tap it."

  "I love you, Drake." Her hand took his. Her movements were so light and airy, it was as if she floated on air.

  Ashleigh focused on the Count's face as his loving expression disappeared and was replaced by a mere cloud of white. Her world was coming back again, as was that deep, panging hunger in her chest. She let out a pained groan. Closing her eyes tightly, she grabbed the first thing near her, the Count's hand.

  "I'm so afraid." Tears escaped the dam of her tightly closed lids. A severe dizziness occupied her head, a thick blackness creeping ever closer. The feeling of losing consciousness terrified her. "Are you…going to let me…die?"

  His voice was firm, hurt underlying his deep tone, "Apologize."

  "I can't." She squeezed his hand, but her grip was light. Swallowing hard, she tried to moisten her dry throat. "I—"

  "Do it or I'll kill you."

  "I need to eat." With a burst of strength, she tried to sit up. Her body was now running on pure adrenaline, and her need to feed taking over.

  His strong hand pushed on her chest and forced her head to the pillow. He watched her move from side to side frantically. Her mind had left her, and she was nearing the end. He could feel her heart's intense beat, it's frantic pace showing the desperate state of her body.

  Her body was shaking, and she was on the verge of a great convulsion. He bit his wrist and held the steady stream of blood to her lips. She immediately latched on, his blood tasting better than any she had ever consumed. But this man wasn't like other vampires. He was immortal, and as the first, he was extremely dangerous.

  As her world came back, she tried not to focus on those thoughts. Her eyes shut tighter as she wished with all her might that this was all a dream. She wanted to open her eyes and see Caleb. She needed to.

  Even though her hunger was satisfied, she let her lips tremble over his skin and didn't open her eyes. She could smell him, the dark scent of his cologne. This wasn't Caleb.

  The Count didn't move his arm, waiting for her to move. He watched her slow tears. His next command was soft, yet firm, "Open your eyes."

  She obeyed him. Her eyes quickly opened and locked onto his. He didn't pull his hand from her lips, but instead studied her curiously.

  "I'm tired." She turned on her side and put her back toward him.

  "You are not." Grabbing hold of her shoulder, he spun her around.

  His action surprised her, Ashleigh's eyes widening. "What do you want from me?" She quickly sat up. The high of feeding made her unable to control her emotions well.

  "I want you to clean up." He yanked her to her feet. "You smell of that man. You will soak in the tub until you wash the scent of him off your body." He observed her attire, everything she wore was Caleb's, except for her bra and panties.

  "Why are you doing this to me?" Putting a hand to her chest, Ashleigh began to cry. "I love Caleb, he's—"

  Baring his fangs, he got in her face. She cringed backward. "Never say that!" When he saw the terror in her eyes, he backed off. His chest rose and fell quickly as he forced himself to look away from her. His voice softened a little, "Come." He led her to the bathroom.

  "Where are we?" She studied the room. It didn't look like a hotel. It was furnished handsomely, with giant gothic-style windows and beautiful, carved wood lining the walls.

  "Home."

  Then, he pointed to the large bath that had been filled. Smoke rose from the water, which was being churned by the powerful jets. It was a modern bathroom, no expense spared on the decoration or the fixtures. The bathtub was raised a step from the floor, heavy black curtains surrounding it.

  The lighting was intimate—a few candles near the do
orway lit his face. This was the first time she had observed him so closely. His skin was pale, but not freckled, and there were no visible imperfections. This lighting seemed fitting for such a dark prince, and the atmosphere felt outdated, like his memories of her.

  She had to admit, she did find him very handsome. But this wasn't surprising, because as a Master Vampire, one would expect him to be perfect. She wasn't swayed by it, though. Not his amazing green eyes, his perfectly chiseled cheekbones and square chin…not an inch.

  She turned around quickly. There was fear in her eyes, but anger in her steady voice. "I want to go home." Her fists were balled at her sides, and she sent him a glare as strong as the one he was throwing at her. "You can't keep me a prisoner here."

  "Can't I?" He laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a challenging look in his eyes. He liked seeing that spark he remembered fully alive within her.

  "No."

  "Undress." His stare was glued to her body as he motioned for her to obey his order.

  "No." She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. Her eyes were surrounded by smeared mascara that bled around the edges.

  A deep, commanding tone lined his strong voice as his brow kissed his shining eyes, "Undress." He narrowed his gaze.

  "I won't—"

  "Do as I say!" He bared his fangs. The sight of his murderous rage made her jump back a step, but it didn't make her back down.

  "No." She took another step back. Her voice quivered, "Get away…" Closing her eyes, she balled her fists at her sides and screamed her next words as loud as she could, "From me!"

  Then, it happened. She lost control. She couldn't move an inch of her body, and her eyes stared straight ahead. Inside, she was screaming for him to release her, but none of her emotions showed on her face.

  His voice was shaky, as if he was trying very hard not to strangle her, "Listen to me." Reaching up to her shoulders, he pulled off her jacket and let it fall behind her. "You smell like a piece of trash. That rat's stench hanging over you like a cloud." His fingers took a firm hold of the baggy T-shirt she wore then quickly pulled it over her head. "And you act like an insolent child, so spoiled and rotten it makes the taste of your blood repulsive."