by Amber Kallyn
He pushed her to the mattress and jumped up, striding to the table. Distance between them was good. Shoving the thoughts of her lush body from his mind, he fisted his hands, struggling for control.
When he faced Dalia once more, she was pressed against the headboard, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. She still shook as if wracked by a cold pain.
The urge to pull her back into his arms and comfort her swamped him. Something about her... an irresistible siren call.
The scent of her panic exploded into the room “Dalia?” he asked.
Her eyes snapped open, the green-blue now glazed red. Her fangs extended fully. “What’s happening to me?”
Jordan grasped his hands behind his back as he moved to stand next to the bed. Calm and soothing, he answered, “You are a vampire.”
She lifted trembling hands, staring at them as if her body had become alien, which in a sense, it had. “B-but, vampires don’t exist.”
“Do they not?”
“No. They don’t. Not outside of books and movies.” She met his gaze, then looked around the room. Her stare stopped at the door.
“Don’t try it. I’m faster.”
Shaking her head, she reached up and tugged at a lock of pink hair.
He sat on the side of the bed. Her eyes flared with hunger. Magic filled the room, washing over him. Impossible. A fledgling with this much control?
She tugged harder at her hair and he couldn’t stop from reaching over and taking her hand, then pushing the strands behind her ear. He ignored the fact his hand nearly trembled when he touched her. “You’re awake.”
“Duh.” She tried pulling her hand away, but he held tight.
“Not what I meant.”
“Where am I?” Her voice was growing stronger, losing some of its panicked warble.
Trying to figure out her strangeness, he absently replied, “My castle.”
* * *
Dalia glanced around the room, struggling to stay calm even though she wanted to run around screaming. Nothing made any sense. Yet, what she saw only confused her more.
The room was dark but for the small pool of candlelight, yet somehow she could see even into the blackest corners. She could even make out the patterns on the stones. “Castle?”
She struggled to put her thoughts in order. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. The last thing she knew, she had been leaving her parent’s Montana ranch to meet some friends in Billings. They’d been planning to hang out at the mall. Do some shopping, maybe see a movie if anything good was playing at the tiny theater.
“How’d I get here?” She stared at the compelling man, his very presence drawing her like a moth to a flame. “And who are you?”
“I’m Jordan MacDougal.” His voice soothed her jangled nerves. Finally, she managed to place his enticing accent. Scottish. “After you were rescued from Thomas—”
“Who’s that?” Rescued?
His eyes narrowed and his Scottish brogue thickened. “What do you mean?”
She breathed deeply as her mind spiraled into even more confusion. “I just left my house. I didn’t need rescuing.”
“Lass, what day is it?”
She tried to remember, but drew a blank. Struggling to find anything familiar, she glanced down at herself, but didn’t even recognize the t-shirt and jeans.
“From what we can tell, Thomas, a Master vampire captured you and held you prisoner for over a year. You recall nothing of this?”
She tried to say no, but couldn’t push the small word past the burning lump in her throat. A year? How could she possibly not remember that much time? No. He had to be wrong.
Fear and panic warred inside her. The struggle to stay seated became a battle. Her canines extended once more. Her vision sharpened.
Heat blossomed inside her stomach, churning with need, with hunger. Dalia tugged on her hair, even as she was drawn to the pulse at the man’s throat. She saw only the blood pumping beneath such a thin, delicate layer of skin.
“You are still hungry.”
She flinched. “I don’t want to drink your blood.”
“Lass, you are what you are. You must have blood, but if you would prefer, I can arrange it in a vessel other than myself.”
“I don’t want blood.”
His jaw tightened. “You can either drink, or I can force feed you. Choose.”
She shuddered at the finality of his words. His eyes blazed with a hardness that was downright frightening. “Fine. As long as I don’t have to bite you.”
He stood and went to a darker space on the far wall. With a look she couldn’t read, he told her, “Come,” before pulling open a heavy metal door. It groaned in ominous warning.
But anything had to be better than this stark, tiny room. Dalia took a quick last look around, then followed him, no clue what to expect next. It could all be just a dream, even though the barely controlled fire in her stomach told her otherwise.
She walked behind Jordan, staring at his neck, struggling to keep her word and not bite him. Control was slipping away as hunger burned deep and fiery.
Chapter Two
Jordan strode down the dungeon hall, his senses attuned to Dalia in case she thought to run. She still shivered every now and then. From fright or her new body, he wasn’t certain. He had yet to figure out why she wasn’t acting like a normal fledgling.
Near the stairs, two guards stood sentry in front of a closed and bolted steel door. From inside, the other newly turned vampire screamed like a wounded animal caught in a trap, rattling his chains. Chase was still mindless with hunger even after a few weeks.
Dalia sidled closer to Jordan. “What was that?”
Thinking of Chase inside the room, he replied, “He’s a fledgling.”
“Fledgling?”
“A new vampire, like you.”
“Why does he sound so crazy?”
Jordan stopped and faced her. “It’s how one usually is right after waking.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced at the door and the guards. “I’m not like that.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have an answer.” He’d only heard of one fledgling waking lucid. It had been due to the man’s bargain with his Master, and feeding on vampire blood for months prior to death.
Which raised more questions. Thomas had kept live food caged and beaten. It didn’t seem likely he’d share blood with Dalia. Then again, there had been much about Thomas he didn’t understand.
They headed up the stairs and down another long hall, to the kitchen. Rounding the wide island in the center of the room, Jordan headed for the cupboards near the sink and pulled out one of the many coffee mugs. Placing it on the counter, he hesitated, meeting Dalia’s multi-colored gaze.
“Do you wish to turn away?”
She looked from him to the cup, then gasped as understanding sparked. She spun to face the industrial sized refrigerator built into the wall.
Bringing his wrist to his mouth, Jordan bit down until blood flowed. He held it over the mug. It took two more bites to keep the quickly healing wound open long enough to fill the cup.
“Come,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft.
Dalia turned, slow and cautious. Her gaze fell on the mug and her nose flared at the coppery scent. A mix of horror and hunger blazed from her eyes.
“Do I have to?”
“We must eat food like regular humans, but you can not survive without blood as well.”
“Why?”
“It is just the way we are. Come now. You enjoyed the taste, so what is the problem?”
Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. “Humans don’t drink blood. I want to be human.”
Shaking his head, he pushed the cup closer to her. “That is not possible. Drink. I don’t want to have to force you.”
She stiffened, but picked up the cup. Again she hesitated. Jordan braced himself for a fight. Force feeding her would not be pleas
ant. But his duty was to ensure she survived. He never shirked his duty.
She lifted the cup to her lips. After the first small sip, her hands stopped trembling and her eyes drifted closed, but not before he caught the red of hunger bleeding over their normal colorful hues. She gulped the rest. Setting the cup on the counter, she stared at him with a defiant tilt to her chin.
“Why did this Thomas guy make me a monster?” Pain filled her silky voice.
Jordan took a deep breath, but didn’t answer. He would tell her the truth about who’d made her a ‘monster’, but not yet. “Let me show you to a room.”
He headed through the living room. Dalia followed, keeping close to his side. The room was expansive, with furniture arranged around four televisions, each blasting a different channel.
The place reeked of chaos. He’d resisted bringing in technology for a long time, but everyone was eventually forced to accept new times and the changes they brought.
Most of the vampires in the room kept rapt gazes on their videos and games, but a few turned their attention to Dalia.
Eyes widened and whispers began. They all knew who she was. The sight of a newly woken, uncrazed, was sensational. Before long the entire castle would hear about it.
He raked his gaze over the loudest whisperers. The group froze, already pale faces going whiter.
He stepped into the entryway. Behind him, Dalia gasped. He followed her gaze from the marble tiles beneath their feet, up the wood paneled walls, over the wide, spiraling staircase and to the windowed ceiling three stories above.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “It’s home. Come.”
They headed up the staircase to the third floor. He strode past his own closed bedroom door, and went to the next, unsure why he was putting her so near to where he’d be sleeping.
With her so close he would be able to sense her presence, feel her weak magic. It was almost as if he wished to be tormented.
Shaking off the thought, he opened the door to her room. “Stay here. Sleep. I will get you tomorrow night and we will talk.”
“Why do I have to stay here?”
He sighed loudly. “Do you wish to face the temptation to drink of the others if you leave the room?”
She shuddered and stepped inside. With a heated glare, she slammed the door in his face.
Jordan stared at the old wood, trying to come to terms with this woman, and the situation.
She confused him with what she was, what she wasn’t. But most of all, with what she made him feel.
* * *
The bedroom was like the rest of the place. Grand. One side held a bed, the other a sitting area with a desk on the far wall beneath a huge window. Dalia crossed the huge room to stare out the floor-to-ceiling window taking up a third of the wall. The dark tinting made seeing much of anything nearly impossible, but she could make out an expanse of forest.
She ignored the room behind her, though she could sit for days staring at all the expensive and beautiful things. It didn’t matter. It was no better than being locked in a cell down in the basement. She was still a prisoner.
It didn’t matter that Jordan hadn’t locked her in.
With the way she was drawn to his pulse, wanting to bite down and drink his blood—and how gross was that thought—she had to listen to his words. She couldn’t bear going out among all the people she’d seen and risk losing control.
How could this have happened? How could she have gone from being a prisoner of one vampire, only to end up in yet another’s castle?
Surely she should remember.
Life had become all too confusing. She wanted to deny everything she’d heard since waking, but as her stomach churned and the heat of hunger rose through her body, her canines lengthened and scraped against her tongue. She moved passed the mirror above the dresser, then stopped at a glimpse her reflection. Guess there was a lot she needed to learn about vampires and truth versus myth. She grimaced at the messy state she was in, then froze once more, staring at the fangs peeking from between her lips.
She tugged at one sharp tooth, then the other. Definitely real. She glanced up, crying out at the sight of her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. A thin band of red circled the hazel color, growing bigger as she watched, until the irises were pure red.
She backed away from the mirror, a burning tightness in her throat. She was a monster.
Crossing to the bed, she stared at the mound of pillows and the silk covering. With a cry, she grabbed a pillow and flung it across the room. She shot a fist at another pillow, stumbling back when it exploded. Feathers flew into the air.
They drifted down to coat the side of the bed and floor with downy white. The pillow she’d hit lay flat, a hole torn through it.
Her anger fled, leaving only confusion and terror in its wake.
She crawled across the bed to the other side and curled up. Exhaustion made her eyelids heavy and she lost the fight to keep them open.
Jordan’s face came to mind. All warrior angles, his blond hair sweeping nearly to his shoulders. His sky-blue eyes hid all emotion, but his wide lips showed his thoughts. She still smelled him on her skin, spice and man. He was a vampire, but he didn’t act like a monster. His arrogance was over the top, but he’d tried to soothe her.
Since she’d woken, everything had become a confusing mass of contradictions.
* * *
Back downstairs, Jordan stopped in the doorway of the recreation room. Vampires, young and old, passed their time with play. Some played billiards, others stood in front of pin ball machines and other gaming type consoles.
They sensed him watching, but continued to play, knowing if he wanted something, he’d say so.
Brandon strode to his side, then stood silent, waiting. After a minute, Jordan faced the tall Viking. “Is Eric back?”
“Not yet, Sire. But Doctor Dixon has arrived to talk to you.”
“Did you leave him in my receiving chamber?”
“Aye.”
“Good. When your brother gets back, make sure he finds me.” Jordan headed through the castle halls, nodding a greeting to the vampires he passed, but his thoughts were still on Dalia. The way she was so... wrong. How did such a thing happen? He hoped it wasn’t the only thing he could think of. For if she’d been fed a master’s blood, how could he trust her?
He entered the chamber, appreciating the decanter of whiskey and glasses already on the small table near the fireplace.
Matt Dixon stood in front of the fire, hands out to the warmth.
“Matt,” Jordan stated.
The vampire bowed. “Sire.”
“Relax. Have a seat.” Jordan sat in his own chair, before pouring whiskey into the two glasses.
Matt lifted one. He sipped it as he stared into the flames. Jordan gulped his down and poured another before leaning back in his chair.
“Have you found any sign of Luci?” Matt asked.
“Nay. Not that I’ve heard. It’s early yet. We’ll find her.”
A shadow passed over Matt’s face. Jordan remembered too well what had happened to the vampires kidnapped by Thomas just weeks ago.
To take his mind off the grisly images, Jordan asked, “I assume you heard about the woman?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me something. Her last memory is of stepping out of her home. She doesn’t remember Thomas or being prisoner, nothing until she woke tonight. How can that be?”
“It’s not my area of specialty, but there’s dozens of reasons a person can lose their memory. Stress, repression. Hell, Jordan, she almost died.”
“Aye. But to only forget a short period of time?”
“The brain is a mysterious thing. No one knows how it works.” Matt took another sip. “And her memory could come back at once, or in pieces, or never.”
Jordan traced the rim of his glass, staring at the amber liquid. “Have you heard of a fledgling with control before
?”
Matt sat straighter, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened on the cup he held. “Yes. I’m sure you have too even if it’s rare.”
“Tell me.”
“It was in the 1860’s, if I recall correctly. I was travelling through Canada one spring when the rumors reached me. Supposedly there was a Master hoping to come out of the closet. She did it by taking over a small town. She faced the people living there drink the blood of the few vampires in her coven for months. The Council heard about it and sent a couple Judges in to take her down.”
Standard procedure for the Council—the ruling body, the few, who made the laws and rules for the Arcaine. The Judges were their security force, the strongest of the Arcaine—all races from vampires to shifters to demons. They were the ones sent in to enforce Council laws, in any way they saw fit.
“I managed to stumble into the town when the fighting was almost over. The two Judges had killed all the vampires but the Master. She brought out a vampire she claimed was a fledgling, but the boy had control. Could think just fine. The Judges killed her, and captured the boy. I don’t know what happened to the survivors.”
Jordan rolled his empty glass between his palms. “Do you believe the boy was a fledgling?”
“The Master seemed to figure that by feeding humans vampire blood, more could survive the change, and they’d be like the boy when they first woke.”
“But do you believe?”
Matt set his glass down and met Jordan’s gaze. “I saw the boy up close. He was definitely newly turned.”
“Interesting.”
“You’ve heard of another case, haven’t you?”
“Aye. It was also because of sharing blood before turning.”
“So why would Thomas have fed the woman vampire blood? I thought she was supposed to be his prisoner.”
Jordan didn’t reply.
* * *
Dalia woke shaking and drenched in sweat. Her entire body burned. Her stomach was the source of the agonizing fire.
Her control was slipping. The thunder of hearts beat through the castle, and the sweet bitterness of blood in the air, tormented her.
The urge to bolt from the room and bite into the soft, vulnerable throat of the first person she met hounded her. She fisted her hands in the blanket, refusing to move.