by Cara Villar
"Maybe?" he murmured, lips tracing my throat, his words barely audible past my own labored breathing and pounding, rushing blood. "Or, maybe you should be asking me...where." His fangs scraped the fragile skin swelling my breast, my low-cut top no protection whatsoever. Every panting inhale pressed his fangs into my skin, and yet, I couldn't make my breathing slow or even…
His cool fingers tingled up the softness at the top of my inner thigh.
My throat locked up as fear and need fought in my bloodstream, and my labored breathing sounded strangled and quick in my ears. I looked around frantically for a way to get out, to get away, but everything was awash with gold, blurring around the edges.
"W-w-wa—"
He lifted his head to meet my eyes.
"Wait—"
His gaze widened as he stared at me.
"Let’s…Let's make a deal? Yeah? Let me down and we'll talk."
"What are you?" he murmured then.
"Talk and not—" I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Not bite anyone." Cool fingertips brushed my temple, my cheek, gold light crackled in his irises.
"Ahh, pet?" His eyes flared with gold, brighter than before, looking so mournful then, and my heart plummeted to my stomach.
I bit back the deprived, frightened whimper rising in my throat and closed my eyes briefly, fighting for control of my own goddamned body.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
I opened my eyes to ask him what for just in time to see him draw back his fist. Another explosion of pain, and it was lights out.
3
My old, antique wooden trunk was sitting in the middle of an empty room. Lights beamed down, soft and cold, from somewhere above that I couldn't see. They highlighted the details of my oldest memories with a caress much akin to a knife-edge.
The trunk was made of two shades of cherry wood. One dark. One light. The dark was smooth and glossy. The light was engraved with winding flowers and leaves. The latches and hinges were brass and iron. The iron was dark and smooth, worn from touch of decades, from generations of my family. The brass was worn, the filigree barely even visible anymore.
I reached out my hand towards it, knowing that the wood would be like a living, breathing thing under my fingertips, and the latches would be cold, like frost on glass. As my fingers brushed the ornate carvings on the lid, they felt weightless, like air, and I half-expected my hands to just float right through the wood. But they didn't.
My fingertips brushed the grain, traced a leaf.
I jerked awake, eyes flying open and not seeing anything for a moment but the wood carvings on the lid of my own antique trunk. Not feeling anything other than the heavy weight in my chest from the memories it brought, and the lightness in my limbs. And then I felt the pain in my face.
I hissed in a sharp breath, not even bothering to try to keep my eyes open past the throbbing, itchy, sharp pain, just lifting a hand to my face, momentarily confused about why the hell my cheek and jaw hurt. Did some quarry get too physical last night? Did I walk into a wall? Fall out of bed and land on my face?
"Here." Deep, soft, sultry.
Before I could even flinch at the sound of the voice, something warm, sweet and delicious splashed my lips. The taste was rich, thick and intoxicating, and my whole body shivered when I licked my lips. Opening my mouth for more, my canines lengthened and pulsed with instinctive need. Heat slid down my throat, blossoming into white-hot lightning in my veins, bringing to life tingling cells in my blood and sparkling lights in my skin. Heat licked down my body, settling in the most sensitive of places. A moan locked in my throat.
That's when I realized what I was drinking.
"Hey!" I shoved the arm away, stomach already urging as a thunk hit the floor, moral compass regurgitating what my mind knew and my body wanted. Blinking open my eyes and pushing my focus as I shoved back and away, dragging an arm across my mouth.
Don't get me wrong, blood is like...ambrosia, elixir, moonshine and your best orgasm time’s a hundred, all rolled into one. It's delicious, addictive and intoxicating, with scents, flavors and consistencies that differ in the most luscious of ways. I crave the taste of it and its effects as sure as an addict craves his next fix, but it's still blood. It's still the life-source of another living creature, and that, to me, makes my stomach heave.
"Ew! God, gross!" I turned to the side and spat out the delicious, spicy liquid, dry retching dramatically over the side of a...bed. A bed?
A heavy sigh sounded, and I turned my head, breathing slow and deep to hide my terror, even as my face tingled, letting me know it was healing and would be perfect again in mere moments.
Bright green eyes stared back at me, making me shiver from head to toe. Vamp guy. Vamp guy who knocked me out.
"You," I snarled, realizing it was him whose blood I’d been drinking and resenting its potency.
He rolled from his seat on the edge of the bed, dragging his tongue over his wrist, lapping up spilled blood on his hand with a look I can only describe as...scathing. Yet, I felt that tongue lick all the way to my core.
Did my spitting insult him? Good.
He moved to the end of the bed, and I finally noticed there were other people there. The powers surging in the room were a living, breathing pulse. No one else would have sensed it, but my hyper-sensitive inclinations seem to hone in on supremacy signatures like the proverbial moth to the flame. Not a bad gift for a hunter, but I often feel like a deaf person standing next to speakers; aware of the beat, but unable to partake in the sound.
I scrambled backward until my back was flush against the headboard. I instantly realized that the familiar, comforting weights of my cell and weapons were distinctly absent. I better get those back. I gave the four figures staring at me the stink-eye, even though their gazes were intense enough to make my entire body tighten in anticipation of a fight. When no one immediately moved, I did a quick scan of each figure, and then flicked my gaze about the room.
Spacious. Rich carpet. Thick drapes. Expensive matching furniture throughout. Fireplace. Two doors. So I had a fifty-fifty chance of picking the one that got me out of there over the one that would be the walk-in wardrobe. I returned my gaze to the vamps around the bed, and they were all vamps. I could smell it.
But all they did was stare at me. So, I stared back.
Other than vamp guy, who was tall, dark, and well, scowling at me, the man beside him was lighter, in skin, hair and eye. Pale blonde hair fell to his shoulders in a thick wave, and light blue eyes blandly gazed at me out of a perfectly blank face. His high-cheek bones and incredibly sharp, straight nose made him look haughty, and the slow blink of lashes as washed-out as his hair could almost be taken condescendingly if I didn't know what he was.
Vampires blink deliberately if they are so old that they had broken the habit. Much like they intentionally fidget when among humans, otherwise their innate stillness is a dead giveaway that they are otherworldly. And yes. Pun intended.
Blondie's lean, tall frame dwarfed the female beside him, making her look almost frail as she observed me with an interest so open, that combined with her long, curling blonde hair and big, guileless blue eyes, she looked almost...childlike. If she hadn’t been standing so unnaturally still, I would have thought her nothing but a doll. But, again, that stillness was a blimp-size indicator for vampirism. And it was kind of creepy.
The fourth figure was slouched in a chair to the side of the bed, watching me. The lamp on the opposite side cast him in shadow, and the only reason I knew it was a 'him' was from the way he sat. His legs were crossed knee to ankle. One arm extended along the arm of the lounge chair, the other hidden in shadow, but a glint of something in the light indicated a ring. He also radiated a power that was like a sledge hammer of heat in the face, and felt as if he had the capacity to turn me to dust with nothing but a sigh, if he were so inclined.
If I wasn't mistaken, it seemed like the other three were waiting on him.
"Where am I?" I demanded of t
he male in the chair.
Vamp guy leaned on one of the post at the bottom of the bed, momentarily distracting me from the one in the lounge chair. God, even after slapping me around, he still looked good. All cool deliciousness and sassy brow-arching.
I hate him.
"You," the shadowed figure softly said, drawing my attention back, "are in my home." He slowly unfolded himself from the chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingertips touching—and yep, there was the ring. Big and gold, symbols that looked vaguely like glyphs molded into the surface. Shame his face was still completely shadowed.
"Why am I here?" I asked, seeing as no further information was coming.
"You are here, because Felix,” he indicated the dark haired vamp who'd knocked me out —twice, “thinks you are of interest to me. Is he right?" His accent was odd, the vowels peculiarly low, and he purred them. It was hypnotic, distracting...alluring, like the enticement of dark Belgium chocolate. It promised pleasure so wicked that you would never, ever regret it.
I glanced at Felix. "Depends what you're into, I guess." I replied, arching a brow and wondering if it'd be worth testing their Vampire reflexes if I made a lunge for one of the doors. Silence followed my response, as if no one could believe I hadn’t answered in the way I had been expected to. If it were possible, I would say they were all holding their breaths, looking to see what the Vampire in the shadows would do.
"You drink blood with the hunger of a Vampire," he said instead, as I grimaced in distaste, "and yet you have no power level. Are you a new Vampire? Is that why your heart beats so consistently?" He leaned back in his seat again, further obscuring him in the shadows, and I knew he was staring at me, contemplating.
I knew a fledgling Vampire's heart still beat like a human's for at least a decade after being made, gradually getting slower and slower, until it eventually stopped, only beating once or twice when adrenaline became spiked, say when seriously afraid, pissed or… aroused (cough).This male, I understood, had presence, a way of holding your attention. I couldn't look away.
"I think," I said softly, understanding that his consideration of my youth may work to my advantage. If he thought I was young, maybe they'd underestimate me. "You're all obsessed with my heartbeat, and that you also underestimate the flavor." The shadows shifted, as if he had turned his gaze to Felix to regard him. I switched my gaze also, and was instantly transfixed by jade green eyes. They swirled and glittered and pulled me in like jewels. The snarky little smirk came free, obviously.
Clearing my throat, I pulled my gaze away, just as the female giggled and tried to hide it behind an unconvincing cough. I scowled at her as she covered her smile with a delicate, pale hand.
"Porcia," the shadowed figure chided softly.
"I'm sorry, Osiris." She dropped her hand and openly smiled. "But she must be desperate to avoid your question if she is dropping so low as to compliment Felix."
I what now?
"Hey!" Felix burst.
"Especially," blondie added, arching a fine brow, "after she spat him out so furiously."
My eyes widen in horror as Felix rolled his eyes and Porcia laughed again. I think the shadowed figure, Osiris, was shaking his head.
"Frost, don't encourage her," Felix chastised with a frown.
"She doesn't need it," Frost replied.
"No," Osiris murmured, "she does not."
"You are all so serious!" she snapped at them with a smile, sitting on the end of the bed looking at me. "If you wanted someone serious, you should not have invited me."
"You are the most non-threatening female we have." Felix frowned as if this were obvious.
Porcia scoffed.
I watched all this with my mouth hanging open.
"Please?" she said to me then, her big blue eyes pleading. "Tell us what you are? I'm too impatient to wait through Osiris's questions, and Felix won't tell me!"
"Uh?"
Porcia bounced on the bed. "He's got such a stick up his butt about you that he won't tell us anything. Said we have to see for ourselves—."
Felix choked.
"Porcia," Osiris moaned again.
"So, Osiris said he'd ask you, but you have no idea how long you'd be sat there if he does that—"
"Porcia," Felix warned.
"And Frost and Felix were just gonna stare at you and see if you crack under the pressure! But I know that won't intimidate you because you probably deal with crap like that all the time as a bounty hunter!"
Omg! How’d they know that?
"Porcia," Frost intoned, frowning at her.
"I think if you were in the least bit terrified you would have told us the moment you woke up, instead of doing that scowly-face and scoping the room like some trained Navy Seal in enemy territory. No, no. I think you're much too bad ass. So will you? Tell us? Oh, please say you will? I know you don't want to, but it really will be to your advantage in the—"
"Wolf!"
They all blinked in surprise and looked at me.
Jeepers, I suck at this secret-keeping thing.
She was right too. I could have weathered the questions and ignored the glaring. But, good golly, her constant talking was frightening! And she didn't even have to stop for breath!
"I'm a hybrid," I squeaked breathlessly, staring at her wide-eyed in utter desperation. "A Vampire-wolf hybrid."
Porcia's face split into the most beaming, triumphant smile I'd ever seen. I snapped my mouth shut, and just stared at her, trying to brace myself for whatever she was about to say next.
Instead, she looked over at Felix, a haughty, smug smirk on her face. "There," she said, and held out her hand to him. "I told you I could do it."
Felix out-right laughed and dug into his pocket, handing over what looked like a hefty roll of cash.
My brows shot up into my hairline. "Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick," I breathed in realization. "I've just been played." Hand me my stake, I inwardly pleaded, I'm going to kill myself.
"Don't feel too bad, pet." Felix smiled softly, lean dimples playing peek-a-boo as he sat down next to me on the bed. "Porcia has had a long time to polish her skill."
His eyes glittered with playfulness, and my eyes fixated on the hint of dimples. Devastating. If Osiris was the decadence of Belgium chocolate, then Felix was tequila slammers. Hot, fun, and irresistibly delicious with all the salt and limes. You might feel like shit the next day, but that never stopped you from going back again for more.
I ignored him, and turned back to Belgium chocolate. "Do I get to go home now?" I lifted my chin, feeling haughty and a little pride-tender.
"Unfortunately, no."
What? "Can I, at least, have my phone back?" I pleaded then. Maybe my GPS app could help me figure out where I was so I could get the hell away.
"Again, no."
Dammit!
Osiris suddenly rose from his seat, smooth, silent and deadly. He moved around the bed, and I blinked in shock. He was tall, though not as tall as Frost or Felix, and his skin was bronzed, rare for a Vampire. His features and bone-structure reminded me of a mix between Aztecs and Egyptians. His nose was long and pointed, and his high cheekbones and jaw were strong and sharp. His brows were dark and arched over tilted eyes that looked as black as night and were lined with black lashes so thick he looked like he had eyeliner on. Loops, studs and fine chains adorned both his ears, enough to make me envious, and his stature was regal and straight. This guy was no slouch. There was no mistaking him for other than what he was: the Ruler of a Vampire Clan.
But that wasn't what held my gaze.
What held my gaze was his hair. It was white. White, with pale streaks of silver running through it as it fell in thick braids from an embellished gold clip at the nape of his neck. I was so stunned by the contrast, all I could do was stare at him. "But—" His dark gaze fell on me once more, causing my protest to die a quick death. I had the urge to cringe away and hide in those fascinating eyes.
Much is my stubbornness.
"Felix," Osiris said, and I flinched. "I am going to call Vincent—" Felix cringed. "—and arrange for him to visit us, for obvious reasons. I trust you will take care of our guest." And with that statement—for that was what it was, however much of a request it may have sounded like—Osiris swept from the room, followed by a silent Frost and a jubilant Porcia.
Porcia winked at me as she shut the door.
I stared at the door in utter shock, and yeah, maybe a bit of awe too.
"Can I curl up in a ball and die now?" I groaned. Felix made a strangled sound, and I glared at him. "It's not funny!" I pointed at the door. "She's lethal! Please tell me she's never let out into public on her own!" He gave me full-fledge grin this time, and dropped onto the bed beside me.
Oh, hey, look... there are those dimples again. Seriously? Focus!
Huffing, and, frankly, irritated beyond measure by then, I twisted and hopped off the bed, determined to get out of there. I was not going to stay. Osiris may have been used to dictating his desires, but I was used to only following my own — and old habits die hard. I was pretty sure I could take on Felix if he tried to stop me. Or at least, my inner shoeless Bruce Willis was pretty sure. Those few drops of his blood were like twenty cans of Monster Energy to my system, and I was buzzing with liveliness and strength.
"Where are you going?" Felix asked then, leaning up on an elbow.
I ignored him as I curled my toes in my socks into the squishy carpet. Where the hell are my shoes? No! Not the pink and black ones! And my coat? No-o-o not the red leather one with the wool hood?! Inhale...exhale…. No matter. Won't be the first time I've run barefoot, and I have spare DC's at home. Then I felt my hair bouncing. Reaching up, I touched a mass of frizz and a sagging ponytail. Felix snickered. I glared at him again, and then turned away, refusing to fix it. On principle.