I truly hadn't intended for Jacelynd to hear it. But I can practically feel the anger on the other end of this little mental connection we have going on.
He who? Jacelynd asks.
I have no interest in answering him. I am disgusting, sticky and my once-clean blue shirt clings in places it shouldn't. The sand doesn't wipe off because of the sweat and I've never been more in need of a bath. Okay, that isn't totally true. My first assignment didn't go quite so well, and honestly had Trinity not been with me I would have gotten myself killed.
I look across the horizon to see the night fading into sunrise. It's like my body doesn't know how to react. My initial instinct isn't to fear the light. I sigh, tugging uselessly at my clothes. For the next five minutes, I search for somewhere to take refuge, finally deciding on a house that doesn't appear to have been recently used.
After breaking in—obviously I couldn't use a credit card so let's just say the window was that way when I arrived—I am delighted to find very little clothing in any of the bedrooms and nothing perishable in the fridge. It also appears to be a private home. Either that or this beach house has the most expensive furniture I've ever seen in a rental.
I shower and scrounge for a change of attire. As I finish dressing, I find a working phone. Now what? Do I call Belladonna? Trinity? Who can I trust?
Jessi, just let me know that you're safe. Please.
I groan. Are you and your psychotic friends coming after me? I would say that directly correlates to how safe I am.
He doesn't respond, apparently pleased enough with knowing that I'm not crispy. Now, back to my phone dilemma. I start to dial Belladonna three times before finally dialing Trinity. He may not answer because he normally won't if he doesn't recognize the number.
"Trinity," he says shortly. He's pissed at something. Or someone.
To my embarrassment, I choke at the sound of his voice. "Please don't hang up."
"Jessica? Christ, where the hell are you?" I hear him move, setting something down and rustling papers. Trinity is older than me, in appearance and actuality. I seem to be in my mid-twenties. He could easily pass for thirty-six or so, not that it detracts from his ridiculously light blue eyes and short blond hair. He reminds me of Neal McDonough on Desperate Housewives. Not that I'll admit to watching it.
"The beach. Cape San Blas, Florida, I think. Look, something's happened and I don't want to put you in a position to break your oaths, so if you don't want anything to—"
He cuts me off forcefully, "I'll activate the tracer. We'll—"
"They cut it out of my arm. It will show up in Canada." All I hear is dead silence. "I don't blame you for—"
"Stop! You're making me sick. Have you heard anything I've said to you in the past year? The past decade?" He sighs heavily. "I found your apartment trashed, blood on your couch. It's torn me apart. First thing's first, are you hurt?"
I pull my knees in. "No. I haven't had blood since I was in the throes of withdrawal, but I'll be okay for a little while."
"If I leave now, I should reach you by sundown."
Something in his voice makes me uneasy. "How are you going to find me?"
"I will. I promise."
I should be sleeping, but I'm still on the not-doomed-for-treason time clock and thus I'm unable to close my eyes. Plus, as tired as my body feels, I have been out of it for days. My joints are stiff and my legs might as well be Jell-O.
The jeans I found are just a little too big. The pale pink t-shirt is a tad too fitted. I notice how washed-out my complexion looks as I pass the mirror in the hall and think perhaps I should look into some self-tanner when I get back.
That is, if I'm allowed to live.
I very well could have damned myself by calling Trinity. I just didn't know who else to call and there isn't anyone else who can make this right. If anyone can have me pardoned, it will be him. He surpassed being a mentor years ago and is now one of the clerics of High Coven. He doesn't exactly have total jurisdiction over his own state (our states have nothing to do with their human counterparts), but judging by how he talks about it, he might as well. He is the only Kindred I've ever seen exhibit powers that supersede our normally heightened senses.
I lie down on the couch because the den is the only room where the shutters have been closed and proceed to stare at the ceiling. The ocean rhythmically rolls onto the shore. I've been to the beach a handful of times in the last decade. Twice with Trinity. We've always had something of a tumultuous relationship—fighting one minute and making love the next. I've always hated his domineering, heavy-handed personality and yet I crave it now. I need to hear his voice, telling me that things will be okay. I think on this a while but eventually the fatigue proves too much and I give in.
Trinity's lucky. All I feel when I wake up is hot breath on my neck, which elicits my natural fight response. Had he not been stronger than me and able to pin my hands above my head, I would have broken his arm. At least.
Trinity shakes his head, still clasping my wrists.
"How did you find me?" I breathe as he settles himself over me.
He bows his neck over my mouth and there's no will strong enough to deny this kind of hunger. He takes a hissed breath as I draw my first swallow and it shatters the rest of my self-control. It doesn't matter to me that his blood tastes bitter, or that it chills my throat as it goes down. His touch isn't hesitant or tender as he pulls off my jeans. It's possessive and forceful and there isn't any part of me that doesn't crave contact as the warm air hits my now-bare skin.
"I need you to tell me what you want, Jess."
I want you. I seal the wound with a quick swipe of my tongue and turn away, unable to control my breathing enough to suck and screw at the same time, let alone say something aloud. I start to, but it winds up as a wanton whimper instead.
His laugh is a deep rumble in my ear. He knows me well, knows what his touch does to me. It feels too good—his hard body as it writhes against mine, drives into me. It's all I can do to cling to him, one hand on his chest, the other wrapped around his shoulder.
We are both spent and shaking when he moves down, his palms leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Just before he sinks his teeth into my inner thigh, he says roughly, "Tell me you want this. Say my real name."
Tristan …
I am lost, swimming in the feel of Trinity drawing from me, when I hear a roar in my head that's an equal measure of pain and fury—Jacelynd.
"Let me see your arm," Trinity says as he reaches over my lap. He rolls my arm over and unwraps the gauze. Because I was going through withdrawal, there will be a scar on my arm, just like there was on Quinn's. I don't want Trinity to know that the wound is still sore so I suppress a flinch as the tape sticks. "This is sadistic," he huffs. "You weren't awake for this were you?"
"I wasn't awake for much of anything." I can't get over the fact that he just asked me to address him using his real name. He hates his real name. I was told under no circumstances to ever use it. Ever. And now he asks me to say it in the middle of having sex? WTF doesn't even begin to cover it. "Why did you ask me to use your real name? I thought you hated it?"
"I don't hate it. And I have my reasons. For now, let's concentrate on getting you home. We can talk about that later."
"Do you want me to drive? I don't mind."
"No." He guides me to his black Hummer (H1 if you want to get specific) with a hand on the small of my back. I'm not a huge fan of his choice of vehicles in general, but tonight I'm grateful for the illegally tinted windows. You know, just in case we don't make it back before daybreak.
As we pull away from the house he asks, "Did you see your captors? What they looked like, what they were wearing? Anything you can remember will be useful in finding them."
Showing all of my cards to someone as powerful as Trinity is never a good idea, so I do what any red-blooded vampire would do. I lie. "I only saw two." I go on to describe Quinn and Damian, but don't reveal their names. "Why did they do th
is? What do they want from me?"
Trinity buys my ignorance. "Kindred off the dose too long can't tell what's real and what's not. I don't have a good answer for what they would want from you, other than your level of skill as an assassin. I doubt that I'll ever understand vampires like that. Immortality isn't a choice; in this world it's a burden and at the same time a miraculous blessing. What we do, all of us who have taken oaths and joined a higher calling, is for the good of our world … our kind. By sacrificing everything, our social life, our sanity, even our freedom at times, we are keeping others safe and allowing them to enjoy those liberties. Jessica, I know it feels like you're chained to this life, but you have abilities that not every Kindred has, skills that can be used to benefit those without."
I nod and start to feel a little calmer. At least he is making more sense than Jacelynd and Quinn.
"We are the good guys. Don't ever forget that." He takes one hand off the wheel and touches my cheek. This is unusual for him, this tenderness. Nothing about his personality is kind or sensitive.
"If I'm such a skilled assassin, how did they manage to grab me so easily? They hit me once and I was out. Once, Trinity."
Trinity grips the wheel in his hands. "They must have been watching you for a long time to know when and where you were most vulnerable. You can't blame yourself for that. I've told you a thousand times that your shithole apartment isn't safe. Do you believe me now?"
"Safe from what … humans? Death Dealers aren't smart enough to hunt during the day and any human who comes into my humble abode without my permission is nothing more than a conveniently delivered meal."
Trinity glances at me sideways. "What have I told you about killing humans? They're more useful to us alive. If every vampire killed with every feeding, we'd obliterate our food source."
I shrug. "We can drink from each other."
"Makes us weak, you know this."
"You never hesitate to take from me, or vice versa."
"That's different. You're different. I've already told you that."
Didn't Quinn say something about Blake being different, too? "Do you know anything about my last assignment?"
"No, it was assigned after I left for Chicago. Why?"
"Blake Christianson. I was sent to retrieve him, not kill him … it wasn't a normal mission. You didn't know anything about that?"
Trinity's lip curls back like a dog about to snarl, but he doesn't immediately respond. After a few minutes of silence he says, "I wasn't aware you'd been pulled from the reserves. Did they mention Blake, the guys who kidnapped you?"
I nod, but don't enlighten him further. He doesn't press me on it and this bothers me. Maybe I'm just being hypersensitive.
The road is desolate, stretching for what seems to be an eternity. The night is quiet, the sky clear and bright with stars. I flex my hands, trying to understand why my fingers ache so badly.
Holy shit, they're cold!
I am shivering, which shouldn't be happening. Vampires don't experience cold like this. We can overheat, but it doesn't work the other way around. Chilly sure, but my bones feel cold. Trinity has now noticed.
"You're cold." He takes one of my hands in his and a look of displeasure flashes across his face. He drops my hand and flips off the air conditioning, then presses his palm against the back of my neck. I think he is about to say something comforting, but he jerks the car to a sliding stop at the side of the road.
"Why would you lie to me?" The line of his jaw is rigid, his eyes dark and turbulent. He's never looked at me this way. "God, I expected you to, but then I thought you'd come to your senses. Apparently not."
"Lie to you? Has everyone lost their mind but me? It's probably the withdrawal."
More importantly, how did he know that I lied?
"No!" he barks, "You were with more than just Quinn and Damian. What aren't you telling me?"
"I … wait, I never said their names. I never told you their names."
"Jessica, I am risking everything to save your life. I have, for ten years, done everything in my power to give the world to you and you turn on me the first time you have the chance."
Jacelynd's cryptic answer to my question about sleeping without nightmares returns … Exactly ten years ago today.
Trinity opens his door and gets out and I don't know what else to do but to do the same. This might have something to do with the fact that he took the keys out of the ignition. He walks ahead of me, toward the beach. He is standing very still on the shore when I approach him.
"I'm still trying to deal with this," I yell, "make some kind of sense out of what happened. If I'd done as you're accusing me, I would still be with them. I wouldn't have called you. I'm risking just as much by trusting you with my life."
He turns around. "What have I done that's led you to believe that I would do anything but give my life for you? I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I didn't even want to take you on as an assassin—very few women ever make it through training. But I did and you have held me at arm's length ever since."
Confessions of any nature aren't typical for Trinity. I don't know what to do with this. I am still freezing. In some way, it feels like Trinity's blood is what's doing this—like it's invading where warmth had been, chasing it away. I don't realize how much I am shaking until he breaks down and pulls me to him. I'm crying again, for the first time ever in Trinity's presence and it clearly affects him.
He hugs me tightly to his chest and rubs his hands in a failing attempt to bring warmth back to my limbs. "Ssh ssh, I know, I'm an asshole. I didn't mean that the way it came out."
I couldn't stop crying right now if I wanted to. Everything—the confusion, the pain and the weight of what's happened—has become too much to bear. Too many questions have gone unanswered. I'm way too far from my comfort zone.
I can't do this.
My vision spins and I feel weak. And I hurt, emotionally. My insides are in knots and thinking straight is out of the question.
You are stronger than any of us thought, Jacelynd says, stronger than I thought. Just hold on a little longer. I love you.
"Stop!" I scream, falling out of Trinity's arms to the sand. He doesn't immediately realize that I'm not talking to him. "Please!"
I'm sobbing! Shit. I'm sobbing like some snot-nosed teenager crying over her boyfriend dumping her at the prom. What the hell has happened to me?
I rock back and forth, my head in my hands. Trinity sinks to his knees and grips my arms, then leans in and kisses me, his lips so soft on mine that it stuns me.
"Do you remember that first assignment?" he asks.
It was a waking nightmare. One of those moments when you wonder how many body parts you can live without. "Yes. I remember."
"You held it together when grown men right next to you were losing it. Don't let Jacelynd destroy what you've worked so hard for."
"How do you know his name?"
Trinity pulls me to my feet. "I think it's time you were told the truth about High Coven."
The Chemicals Between Us
The next couple of days are a blur. I don't hear Jacelynd anymore, not since we made it to Trinity's house. Which, for the record, might as well be Wayne Manor. Of all the non-stereotypical places in my vampire life, this actually does fit somewhere in the deep-rooted, well-established vampire scenario. But, like I said earlier, I can't tell you with any level of certainty how old Trinity actually is. He's referenced things from time to time as first-hand experiences that pre-date anything from my modern history class, so I am assuming old means practically ancient. This doesn't bother me in the least—I've always liked older men.
My life is odd now that I can't go out in daylight. I remember sitting on the beach a few summers ago, wishing I could still have alcohol. Had I known I would find myself in this position, I would have soaked up the sunshine. Hindsight's a bitch.
Speaking of hindsight—Trinity took the liberty of having my belongings removed from my apartment, so it was
all at his place when we arrived. I thought it was a bold move, considering the conversation we had before he drove out of town that went something like, "No, I won't marry you, Trinity, but thanks for asking." I guess he assumed that when I called him from Florida, it meant that I'd changed my mind. Near-death experiences can have that effect, I guess.
I have so many questions that I want answered, but in the back of my mind are the consequences of questioning the Coven and the powers that be. It's bad enough that I've agreed to go with Trinity to meet with the other clerics. It's never been the clerics themselves who instill fear in the hearts of all Kindred. They simply carry out the will of the Seer Cleric. He controls everything in our shadowed world, decides the fate of others like he decides what to eat for breakfast and his reputation is one of questionable temperament. The idea of going before him is what justly brings true fear to my heart.
We are on the way to High Coven. Trinity is in the back seat with me while one of his numerous employees drives. He is dressed in his usual attire—black button-up shirt, dark slacks and a thin leather jacket. I personally prefer sweats or at least jeans but I figured that was the wrong attire to wear to an execution, so I went with the conservative gray turtle neck, soft black leather pants and a black wool riding coat. Now, before you go accusing me of being stereotypical again, let me remind you that December in Alexandria, Virginia, is cold for humans, let alone a physiologically challenged vampire. These are the warmest clothes I own.
I've never seen High Coven, few assassins and even fewer of your average bloodsuckers have. From the estate, we are about forty-five minutes or so from the D.C. metropolitan area with traffic, so it doesn't take us long to get into the city. I don't want to do this. I wouldn't say it scares me, but I sure as shit wouldn't be doing it voluntarily.
Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance) Page 4