Gasping for breath, she curled into a fetal position, slowly getting herself under control. “Jesus Christ.” Another coughing fit consumed her, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn smoke escaped from her throat. “What the fuck?”
Ethan hung his head in his hands, muttering what she thought sounded like, “I’ve made a mistake.”
Sitting up, she slid her feet to the floor. “You made a mistake? I’m the one who opened the goddamn—” Again with the coughing. She doubled over, nearly expelling a lung before she could breathe again.
“Rule number one: obey your sire. Your life is in his hands until you’re trained.”
“Obey my what?” Gripping the edge of the mattress, she chose her words carefully. “Back up a minute, Christian Grey. I don’t know what kind of kink you’re into, but Jane Anderson obeys no one. Got it?” Whew. She spoke a whole sentence without her lungs trying to make a break through her mouth.
He narrowed his eyes, and his jaw ticked, but he remained silent, almost stoic. Something outside that door had nearly killed her, yet the only emotion he seemed capable of expressing was disdain.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had to keep her cool. “What just happened? Why did I feel like I was on fire?”
Ethan sighed dramatically, as if he were the one nearly burned alive by opening a door, and dragged his hands down his face. “You were hit by a car last night, and I brought you here to save your life.”
Jane opened her mouth to argue, but the memory crept back into her mind. She’d been at the parade, and something had compelled her to wander down the street. She’d found that creepy cemetery with all the aboveground tombs, but the gates were locked. It would have made a sensational article for her blog. Her stomach sank. “I was trying to get a photo.” And that truck had come from nowhere.
He angled his body toward her. “Do you remember anything after that?”
“I remember…” Her jaw trembled, so she snapped it shut. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t a memory; it was a hallucination. He didn’t float her over the cemetery wall, and he certainly didn’t… She swallowed hard. “Did you bite me?”
“I’m a vampire, Jane. And now, so are you.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was just a…well, a matter of fact.
A nervous giggle bubbled from her throat. “What?”
“Vampire.” He bared his teeth and tapped a fang.
A goddamn fang.
“Oh, come on.” She scooted away. “Those are prosthetic. Vampires aren’t real.” They couldn’t be.
“Aren’t we? You didn’t take too kindly to daylight just then, and that was filtered through glass. Imagine what direct sunlight would do to you.” He narrowed his eyes at her, giving her that full-on smoldering effect again, making her stomach flutter, and an annoying little voice in the back of her mind whispered that she should believe him.
But she couldn’t. “That was… You put something out there to keep me in. A massive heat lamp or something.”
“Do you really think I’d go to that much trouble to keep you trapped inside my attic? I could have just locked the door.”
“Well…” He had her there, but still. Vampires? “Tell me the truth, Ethan. This isn’t funny. Did Sophie put you up to this?” Her friend had been trying to convince her vampires were real since they started planning this trip. It wouldn’t surprise her.
“Your friend is a witch, yet you refuse to believe in vampires?”
So it was Sophie. “I knew it. I knew that little tramp set this up. What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me anything. She smells like a witch.”
Jane scoffed. “Smells? Tell me then, what does a witch smell like?”
“Like spices. Sophie’s magic smells somewhat like cinnamon. It’s faint, though. Is she aware she has powers?”
“Oh, come on. Cinnamon? Really?” She threw her hands in the air. “Tell me the truth, Ethan, and cut the vampire crap.”
“I wish this wasn’t the truth, but it is. Do you have a mirror? Your face still hasn’t healed from the light. Look at it.”
“Ha. See, I knew you were lying.” She dug in her purse for her compact, a smug smile curving her lips. “Vampires don’t cast reflections.” She flipped open the plastic container and looked at herself in the mirror. “Oh, my.”
Her hair was a rat’s nest, and mascara stains streaked her face, but the most disturbing sights were the bright red blisters on her cheeks and forehead. She tilted her head, staring as they shrank into nothing right before her eyes.
She caught Ethan’s reflection over her shoulder, his expression unreadable. Her lips twitched, and she hesitated to open her mouth. If she had fangs too, she’d…
She smiled, and her teeth were normal.
Blowing out a breath of relief, she looked over her shoulder. “You know, you’re so serious about all this, you almost had me believing you. I can see you in the mirror.”
“Of course you can. Everything casts a reflection, even vampires. Unless we’re using our glamour.” He nodded at the mirror. “Look again.”
She rolled her eyes and glanced in the mirror again. Wait a minute, that couldn’t be right. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but her face was the only reflection she saw. She jerked her head toward him, but he hadn’t moved from his spot on the corner of the mattress. She scooted closer, holding the mirror directly in front of his face, moving it to the side and all around him. Nothing.
“Holy shit.”
“Believe me now?”
“How are you doing that?”
“Glamour. It’s a type of vampire magic that allows us to go unnoticed among humans. It’s why you didn’t see me when you wandered down that side street last night, which wasn’t the smartest thing to do in New Orleans.”
“I never claimed to make the best decisions.” Damn. Maybe she did need a babysitter after all.
She snapped the mirror shut and shoved it into her purse. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and chewed her bottom lip. She didn’t want to believe him. It sounded impossible, but the more she thought about last night, the more his explanation made sense.
That truck had hit her head-on, and she was still alive when it rolled over her like a speedbump, crushing her ribcage. She didn’t imagine that. And Ethan… She didn’t imagine what he’d done to her either. He’d bitten her neck, but it didn’t hurt. After that, she could only recall waking up here. Holy bloodsuckers. She was a fucking vampire.
“This glamour of yours… Is that why I’m not scared of you? Why I don’t remember anything after you bit me? Did you put me under some sort of spell?”
“The death sleep pulled you under shortly after I bit you, so you could complete the transformation. That’s why you have no memory of arriving here. And it’s natural for you to trust me. I sired you.”
“Sired?”
“I turned you into a vampire.”
“Ew. Okay, let’s say that then. Saying you sired me makes it sound like you’re my daddy or something, and that’s a kink I could never get into.” Ethan was way too hot to think of him as a father figure. Even with all the weirdness of discovering she’d been turned into a vampire—and this definitely took the cake for her weirdest experience yet—she still felt an underlying attraction to him. “I won’t call you Daddy, no matter how much you beg.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he still didn’t smile.
She narrowed her eyes, vowing to make this man smile if it killed her. Could vampires die? “Are you always this serious?”
“This is a serious matter.”
“Are all vampires this broody? Or is it just you?”
His eyes tightened. “We retain our personalities from our human lives.”
“Oh, so this Edward Cullen act isn’t an act? This is what you’ve always been like?”
He closed his eyes and went utterly still, so still, she wondered if he’d turned to s
tone. Could vampires do that? She had so many questions.
“Can you teach me to turn into a bat?”
He opened his eyes, and his jaw ticked again like he was annoyed. “No.” What on Earth did he have to be annoyed about?
“Why did you save me?”
His eyes softened, a look of regret drawing down his brow. “I thought you were…” He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “You would have died. The sun has set. Let’s get out of the attic.”
“Thank God.” Her throat closed up, and she fell into another coughing fit. “Why. Do. I. Keep. Coughing?” she asked between breaths.
Ethan squatted by the door, remaining silent until she finished nearly dying again. “I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
“Figured what out?”
He shook his head like he was disappointed. “Hundreds of years ago, after an unfortunate event involving an entire choir, the church smote our kind. We can’t speak the name of a certain religious icon or his son without…” He gestured toward her. “Without that happening.”
“You could have told me that after my first incident.”
“I hoped you’d learn it on your own.” He opened the attic door, and Jane shielded her eyes. No light sliced through the darkness this time.
“Is there anything else I need to know?” She followed him down a ladder into a narrow hallway.
“Plenty. You also can’t go inside a church, and holy water burns.” He led her into a small living room with a dark blue sofa and matching recliner. A television sat atop an oak entertainment center, and beige drapes covered the windows.
So not what she’d expected for a vampire’s house. Where was his coffin, and shouldn’t the upholstery be red velvet? “No holy stuff. Got it. What else?”
He stopped in front of the door and turned toward her. “You’ll need to feed. We have to visit the Magistrate to get your permit, and then I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Feed?” Her stomach sank. The shock of the situation had messed with her brain, and she hadn’t stopped to consider what being a vampire actually meant. What she’d have to consume.
“You need blood to survive, but it’s illegal to bite without a license.” He opened the door, gesturing for her to exit. “Once you have your permit, I can teach you how to feed. Let’s go.”
The mere thought of biting a person…of drinking blood…had her head spinning. She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth, cringing as the cactus needles dug into her throat, and straightened her spine. She’d let him teach her how to glamour and do all the fun vampire shit, but there was no way in hell she’d be drinking blood.
Chapter Five
Ethan sent out one more mental distress signal to his sire and opened the front door. Unfortunately—though not unexpectedly—Gaston was nowhere to be found. He stepped onto the porch, closing his eyes and willing the sound of Jane’s obnoxious voice to stop grating in his ears.
What had he done?
“Be a doll and get me a glass of water before we go, okay? I feel like I’ve swallowed a desert.” Jane stood in the doorway, resting a hand against the jamb. Her dark hair hung in tangled knots, and smeared makeup marred her otherwise perfect complexion. Even in bloodied, torn clothes, the infuriating woman was stunningly beautiful.
Unfortunately, her superficial beauty didn’t make it beneath her skin. He tilted his head, staring at her neck as she droned on about how thirsty she was. Actually, there was one beautiful thing beneath her skin. Her blood was as sweet as maraschino cherries. He’d never tasted anything like it. Beautiful on the outside, with sweet blood, but the positive traits ended there.
“Water won’t quench your thirst.” Her first taste of blood should be straight from the source, but he couldn’t stand another minute of her whining. He stomped past her into the kitchen and took a glass from the cabinet, setting it on the countertop.
“You’re right,” she said. “A beer would be better. Or, hell, after what I’ve been through, I’ll take a shot of whiskey.”
He took a jug of O positive from the fridge. “You’re a vampire, Jane. Only one thing will ease the burn in your throat.”
“Whoa, Eddie.” She held up her hands. “Is that blood?”
“Of course. What else would it be?”
She shook her head. “Don’t pour it.” She backed up until her butt met the counter. “Seriously, I just want water.”
Without saying a word, he returned the jug to the fridge and filled the glass with tap water. If she wouldn’t take his word for it, he’d let her learn the hard way. “Here you go, princess.”
She snatched the glass from his hand. “Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t call me Eddie.”
“If you didn’t act like such a brooding, teenage-romance vampire, I wouldn’t.”
“If you didn’t act like such a stubborn, spoiled brat, neither would I.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Jane Anderson is not spoiled.”
“Riiight…” A tingle in the back of his mind alerted him to Gaston’s approach. “Drink up. We’ve got company.”
She chugged the water and slammed the glass on the counter before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “See? All better now. I just needed a drink.”
“Uh huh.” He stalked out the front door and descended the porch steps.
Gaston approached from above—in bat form, no less—his wings flapping wildly as he tilted from side to side, spiraling down before transforming into his human form. He stumbled as he hit the ground and caught himself on the porch railing.
Ethan shook his head. The sun hadn’t been down a half-hour, and his sire was already lit.
Jane parked her hands on her hips and gaped. “Eddie, you fucking liar. You said I couldn’t turn into a bat.”
He groaned, giving Gaston the stink eye. His mentor had only done that to show off. “I said I couldn’t teach you to turn into a bat. Gaston can shapeshift; I can’t.”
Sweeping the tails of his black duster behind him, Gaston stepped in front of Ethan and bowed at Jane. “How nice to finally see you conscious, Miss Jane. I’m sure Ethan has told you all about me.”
She arched a brow, raking her gaze up and down his form. “Who are you?”
“I’m Gaston, Ethan’s sire, of course.” He went to lean a hand against the railing, but he missed by half a foot and stumbled into her.
Clutching his shoulders, she righted him and stepped back, looking at Ethan. “Is he drunk?”
Ethan lifted his shoulders, giving a slight nod. There weren’t enough excuses in the world to make for Gaston. “He has a thing for Irish whiskey.”
“It’s rum tonight, my friend. A bachelorette party was drinking hurricanes.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Fantastic. It’s just my luck to get turned into a vampire by an Edward Cullen wannabe who has Captain Jack Sparrow as his mentor.”
Gaston held up a finger. “I resemble that remark.”
“I think you mean ‘resent,’” Ethan said.
Gaston smirked. “Do I?”
“When can I meet some real vampires?” She crossed her arms. “If I have to be a creature of the night, I want to learn all the tricks. Glamour, mind control, turning into a bat.” She gave Ethan a pointed look.
“Shape-shifting magic can only be acquired by drinking copious amounts of were-blood,” Gaston said. “Unfortunately, we’ve had a truce with the shifters for one hundred and fifty years, so I’m afraid that ability is out of reach for newly-turned vampires.”
“Just…give me a minute. Gaston, can I talk to you privately?” He walked his sire out of Jane’s earshot, though at this point, it wouldn’t matter if she heard what he had to say. “I screwed up, man. You were right.”
Gaston grinned. “What was I right about, old friend?”
“She’s not Vanessa.” Not even close, and the longer he looked at her, the less and less she resembled the memory of his fiancée. Hell, he couldn’t even picture V
anessa’s face at the moment, but he was positive she looked nothing like Jane.
“No? Are you sure? I remember Vanessa having long brown hair.” Amusement danced in his ice-blue eyes.
Ethan gritted his teeth. “I’m positive.” Vanessa was quiet, timid, mild-mannered. “She hasn’t shut up since she woke up. What am I going to do? She talks about herself in the third person.”
A deep laugh rumbled in Gaston’s chest. “You’re going to take care of her like I took care of you. Train her. Make her the best vampire you can, then…and only then…you will set her free.”
His breath came out in a hiss. “Can’t you take her on? You’re a fabulous sire. The best there is. She’d do much better having you train her.”
Gaston clapped his shoulder. “Flattery will get you nowhere in this case, my friend. You made her; she is yours.” He walked back toward the house, and Ethan followed. “Besides, she still bears your mark. No one else can touch her.”
Jane had been sitting on the porch steps, but she shot to her feet. “His mark? What are you talking about?”
“She doesn’t know?” Gaston looked far too amused. “He marked you, my dear. Did you not wonder why you haven’t been the slightest bit afraid of a vampire? He claimed you as his own.”
“Nobody claims Jane Anderson. I’m my own person, so you’d best remove that mark before you have to remove my boot from your ass.” She shook her finger in Ethan’s face.
He gladly would if he knew what to do, but he wasn’t about to admit to this insolent woman that he had no clue how to remove it. He’d have to get Gaston to teach him in private. “When a vampire drinks from a human, he puts a temporary mark on them to let other vampires know they’re low on blood. It’s our system for keeping humans safe. We aren’t allowed to drain anyone.”
She pursed her lips, and for half a second, she almost looked disappointed. “That’s all I was to you? A snack?”
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