But how do I hide the fact that I'm biting him? How do I know when to stop? What do I say when he notices the world's weirdest hickey on his neck?
God, I've just replied in kind without even thinking about it. I shake my head in dismay.
Avery waves a dismissive hand. You'll get used to this. And your boyfriend won't notice anything other than a profoundly pleasurable sexual experience. You'll know when to stop because your body will tell you when it's had enough. As for the wound, it will disappear in a matter of minutes. All you have to do is lick it. Your saliva contains an alkaloid that will seal and heal the puncture, it's part of your physiology now.
My hand goes to my neck. Then why didn't my wound heal right away?
Avery pushes himself off the couch. For the first time since I met him, he looks disturbed.
Donaldson didn't care if you found the wound or not. He intended that you die.
Like the woman he was living with.
Yes.
Avery drains the last of the water in the bottle and returns it to the kitchen.
I watch his departing back. There's something more he's waiting to tell me. I can't imagine how it can be worse than anything I've learned so far, but his reluctance to broach the subject makes me wonder.
He's back in living room now, and his face is drawn and anxious. “I have more to tell you,” he says.
"I figured as much,” I reply dryly. “And it must be pretty bad if you're using your voice instead of ... you know.” I circle a finger at my head.
"It is.” He doesn't sit down, but starts pacing up and down in front of me. “Remember when I said I was a Night Watcher?"
I nod.
"And I told you I was one of a contingent of vampires who—"
"Monitors activity in a community, blah, blah, blah. Yeah. I remember. What does that have to do with me?"
"One of the things we watch for is renegade activity. A vampire like Donaldson, for instance, who attacks and kills without remorse and doesn't try to cover his crime. Sooner or later, the connection will be made between what he does and what he is. That makes him a threat to all of us."
"What do you a mean ‘a threat?’”
"I mean, just as I am a watcher to protect our kind, there are others who seek to destroy us. They watch, too, for attacks that leave a victim bloodless. They have connections at police departments and hospitals, just as we have. And they pay a bounty for information leading to the identification of a vampire."
"You think they might be on to Donaldson?"
"Most definitely. But there's another consideration."
Avery pauses and the way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. “What?"
"If they know about Donaldson, they may know about you, too."
"Me?"
"Yes. You were attacked by Donaldson and lived. They will want to check you out, at the very least."
"And how will they do that?"
Avery shrugs. “It's hard to say. But you must be very careful in how you conduct yourself. You will soon lose your hunger for regular food, but you must continue to shop as if you haven't. You must continue your normal routine. Be wary of strangers approaching you, and don't do anything to attract attention to yourself. If you feel the need to feed before your boyfriend returns, let me know. I'll help you find someone safe. In fact, it may be prudent to let me be there the first time you feed. You are at your most vulnerable then."
That picture—of Avery standing over me while I have sex—sends me into a paroxysm of laughter. The hysteria is back. “You are kidding,” I sputter when I can finally calm myself. “You want to be there while I perform this unholy sex act on some poor, unsuspecting schmuck? Is that how you get your jollies? Are you some kind of sadistic voyeur? Is this really what this ‘watcher’
thing is all about?"
Once more, aggravation tightens Avery's mouth and darkens his eyes. “You should take this more seriously,” he says, his voice hoarse with frustration. “I wasn't suggesting you feed for the first time while having sex. There are other alternatives. I just thought since you had a boyfriend, you would be relieved to know that you can maintain a monogamous relationship and safely satisfy your hunger, too."
Oh, yes. That's an immense relief. The ultimate safe sex. Max will be so pleased.
He can be.
God.
Avery is in my head again. I'm too tired to fight it, but something else he said about feeding sifts through.
"What do you mean I'm the most vulnerable when I feed?"
Avery comes back to the couch and reclaims his seat at the end of it. “In the beginning,” he says. “You may be so swept up in the excitement—"
Excitement?
Yes. You don't understand now. But you will. Anyway, there have been cases where our enemies have pretended to be seduced by a new vampire, only to stake him or her during the act. As you gain experience, you learn to sense the danger.
More animal instincts to be developed. Great.
I look over at Avery. I think you should go now.
Avery watches me for a long minute. I don't even try to read his thoughts. I just want to be alone with mine.
He pushes himself to his feet. “I'm sorry this is so hard on you,” he says.
"And you thought it wouldn't be?"
He rolls his shoulders. “Most people choose to become,” he says. “It's the only safe way. Occasionally, someone like you has it forced on them. I don't know how to make it better except to assure you that there are others like myself to help you through the transition."
"Wonderful. A fanged support group. Just what I've always wanted."
"Give it a few days,” he says, ignoring the sarcasm. “You will start to feel the change. And you will realize there are some good things—some very good things—that come with the gift."
"Gift? That's how you see it?"
He smiles, a soft, sweet smile. “It's how you will see it, too, eventually. You must, really, if you are to go on."
Go on? Ah, that's the rub, isn't it? Will I choose to go on?
* * *
I stay on the couch after Avery leaves. He seemed reluctant to go, after catching my last thought, but finally he did. Now I'm stretched out, watching rays of a dying sun filter through the window and thinking of a hundred other questions I should have asked him. My knowledge of vampire lore comes from books. Works of fiction, or so I thought. Now I realize that, as in most folk tales, there is always a grain of truth. I wonder how many of those books were actually written by vampires? How many vampire cousins do I have? Are there enclaves of vampires in various communities? Is there a secret handshake or sign to identify one vampire to the other?
Vampire.
I'm rolling the word around my tongue and around my brain, trying to make sense of what Avery says is now my reality. I have been given the “gift” of immortality with just one small drawback. I have to drink the blood of unsuspecting humans to sustain that life. Even though Avery painted a titillating picture of wild sexual gratification bestowed on willing victims, they are victims nonetheless. I can't imagine subjecting Max to that. I won't.
So, what to do now?
I close my eyes and put a cushion over my face.
But the darkness isn't quite dark enough.
I get a picture of Avery, tan and good-looking. Normal-looking even. So much for the pale, delicate-skinned vampire who doesn't venture out into the sunlight. Obviously, that's one of the myths perpetuated by books and movies. How did all that get started?
And why hasn't the truth come out before now? And then there's that aversion to garlic—
Oh boy.
The lasagna.
Well, I won't make that mistake again. Obviously, some of those folk tales have basis in fact. That's going to be a hard one, though, giving up Italian food. Especially Luigi's, where the motto is if you don't like garlic, stay home.
But soon I'll be giving up all food, right? Isn't that what Avery said?
The ring
ing of a telephone interrupts my chain of thought. With a weary sigh, I hoist myself off the couch and trudge over to answer it.
"Well,” a familiar voice tinged with irritation starts right in. “Who the hell is he, Anna? Who's the guy I just saw leave your house?"
"Max?"
"You haven't answered my question."
I cross to the window and look toward the street. “Where are you?"
A figure steps out from the driver's side of a parked car with dark-tinted windows. “Here. See me?"
I nod before I realize he can't see me . “What are you doing out there? Come in."
"Are you alone?"
"Yes. I'm alone. You can relax those secret agent muscles. Now, will you get your ass in here, or do I come out and get you?"
The handsome face splits into a wide grin I can see even from here.
"I was hoping you'd say that. I'm on my way."
Chapter Ten
It's a reflex action, rushing into Max's arms the moment he appears at the door. For a moment, there's nothing except the feel of his body against mine. The electric touch of his fingers on my neck as he kisses me. I curl into the curve of his body, flesh against flesh, man against woman.
He kicks the door shut with his foot and maneuvers me to the couch.
We fall upon it, breathless, eager.
Then I remember.
It's not exactly man against woman any more.
"Max,” I push against his chest with my hands, forcing him to stop and look at me.
His eyes are the color of the ocean in the morning and I almost lose myself again. But I can't. Already I feel my body responding in such an intense way, if I hesitate now, we might both be lost. “Wait."
He sits back a little, a puzzled smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. He seems to notice what I have on for the first time.
"Is this a new look?” he asks, running a finger along the neckline of the scrubs. “Hospital chic the new rage this season?"
Then he looks at my face, really looks at me, for the first time. His smile freezes, melts away. His finger traces the cut at my hairline.
“Are you hurt? What happened to you?"
I know most of my injuries have faded, only the hint of a cut where Donaldson first hit me remains. And? My hand goes to the wound at my throat. But I feel nothing except a small bump of raised skin. I let Max help me into a sitting position beside him on the couch.
"I got into a little trouble a couple of nights ago."
"A little trouble? How little?"
I move away from him slightly so I can face him squarely. “A skip we were working jumped us."
"Jumped you and David?"
He's frowning now. I feel his body tense, and I put a gentle hand on his arm. “We're okay. Just banged up. The guy you saw leaving? That was the doctor who treated me."
But that bit of news doesn't bring about the response I'd hoped. Max's frown deepens. “Jesus, Anna. The doctor came here to check up on you? It must have been pretty serious."
"No, not really.” I don't want to tell Max anymore than I have to. I start to babble. “I was released from the hospital today. He was in the neighborhood, that's all. And don't look so worried. David is fine. He's with Gloria in LA, so you know he wasn't hurt that bad either. I'm just still a little sore. Guess I bruised a rib or two. Anyway, I'm supposed to take it easy for a week or so."
It sounds lame, even to my ears, but I can't think of any other way to avoid the inevitable. I can't have sex with Max until I learn how to control this thing.
Until I learn how to control this thing?
I'm actually considering Avery's suggestion?
I pull away from Max and get to my feet. I can't trust myself to be this close. I know Max is watching me intently. I feel a familiar tingling in the pit of my stomach, an unwelcome surge of excitement even lower.
"Bruised ribs?” Max is on his feet, too. “Your ribs didn't seem to be hurting a minute ago."
Why did I say bruised ribs? I start to turn away, but Max turns me back. “There's more, isn't there?” His voice is soft and concerned. “What did he do to you, Anna?"
I hesitate and blow out a breath. We had sex, and he turned me into a vampire. “Nothing, Max. Really. I'm more embarrassed than hurt. But I'm just not feeling quite right yet.” I press a hand to my forehead. “My head still hurts, and it's making me a little woozy."
He doesn't believe me, I see it on his face. But he remains silent, contemplative. Finally, he leads me back to the couch, and we sit down side by side. After another long moment, I steal a sideways glance at him. He's watching me.
"David is in LA?” he says.
I nod. “With Gloria.” I know suddenly why he's asking. “You aren't going to bother him, Max,” I say firmly. “I'm telling you it was nothing. We're both going to be just fine."
"And what did you say that doctor's name was?"
"I didn't."
Max stirs, picking up a pillow and laying it back down.
He's irritated.
I can't say that I blame him. I just can't do anything about it. The way I usually work him out of a bad mood isn't an option at this particular time.
"Max, come on.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me. How's the job going? I heard about a big bust in Southeast last week. I figured it was one of yours."
He doesn't answer right away. I start to think he's not going to answer at all and then he exhales noisily and places his hand over mine. “The job is going great,” he says. “The bust was one of the biggest ever. Now there's only the money trail and we can wrap this thing up."
He shifts a little on the couch, raises my hand and brushes the palm against his lips. It's all I can do to keep from purring. Instead, though, I give him a little “go on” bob of my head.
He sighs and continues. “This afternoon I drove the boss over the border to visit his mama. When I dropped him off, he gave me five hundred bucks and told me to get laid.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wad of cash. “Hold this for me, will you?
If I go back with this, he'll know I didn't get laid. Of course, it looks like I'm not going to get laid anyway, so what difference does it make, huh?"
I give him the look. “So, that's the only reason you come to see me? Sex is the only attraction?"
He capitulates with a smile. “Not the only attraction,” he says. “But when I haven't seen you in two months and I don't know when I'll see you again and we only have a few hours ... Well, it's hardly enough time to enter into a comprehensive discussion of world politics, is it?” He leans toward me, his lips dangerously close. “But it's certainly enough time to explore other interesting topics.
Things like breasts.” His left hand cups my right breast. “Or thighs.” His hand moves down.
Then his lips move past my cheek and blow gently into my ear. “I could be very, very gentle, Anna."
My defenses slip away. Sex with Max is one of the great pleasures of my life. The fact that we see each other only sporadically, and always unexpectedly, adds to the delight.
But I can't do this now. I don't trust myself. Regretfully, I pull away. “Please, Max. I just don't feel well."
"Oh. Headache, huh?"
I nod and do the palm to the forehead thing again.
He laughs. “It isn't working, Anna,” he says. “You're the toughest woman I know. And you're wired for sex like nobody I've ever met. So, are you going to tell me what's really going on here? Or do I have to track down David and get the truth from him?"
It's an empty threat. Max's undercover work as a driver for one of Mexico's most notorious gangsters keeps him on a short leash.
In fact, his assignment is how we met. Not long after I got into the business, a skip I was working agreed to turn informant in exchange for a get-out-of-jail free card. The Feds became very interested when they learned the guy was a lieutenant in the gangster's mob. I arranged the deal and Max turned out to be the plant. So I know for sure he won't be making
any unscheduled forays into LA.
And Max knows it, too, but I give him points for the effort.
When I don't respond, he sighs. “Okay. I give up. I don't know what's wrong, but I can't force you to tell me. I'm not buying this injured act, and I can't believe anybody could get the best of you and David. But I've trusted you with my life since the first moment I saw you. I guess I just have to trust that whatever is bothering you now has nothing to do with us."
It's a touching speech. I believe he believes what he's saying. I also know Max lies for a living, and his acting skills are what have kept him alive in some pretty tough situations. I wipe an imaginary tear from my eye.
We both start laughing at the same time.
"So,” he says, coming up for air. “Got anything to eat? I'm starved."
I take his hand and pull him toward the kitchen.
"I don't suppose you have anything from Luigi's,” he says, scanning the contents of my refrigerator. “I'd kill for a plate of his lasagna."
Chapter Eleven
It's ten o'clock. Max left to pick up his boss, and I'm staring at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Do vampires really have to do their own dishes? I've never seen that in movies.
I rinse the dishes, load them into the dishwasher, and reach for the Cascade. The phone on the counter rings so loudly it makes me jump. The box slips from my hand, and before I can catch it, powder spills across the floor.
Shit. The second time today I've made a mess.
Do I have to avoid loud noises, too? Is that another vampire bogey?
Before I can say hello, he begins. “Anna, this is Grant Avery. Sorry to disturb you. Is your friend still there?"
Now I'm getting mad. “Doesn't anyone say hello anymore? And if you know I had someone here, then you know he's gone. So why are you asking?"
"Sorry."
His tone is unapologetic and quite insincere, but it's something else that triggers alarm bells in my head. “Avery, please tell me that you aren't having him followed."
There's a slight hesitation before he replies. “No, it's not Max we're having followed."
Max? He knows his name? The alarms are shrieking now. “Avery, can you read my thoughts over the phone?"
The Becoming asc-1 Page 5