by Kristie Cook
We soared across the yard and crashed through a glass patio table. Oh, shit! Not glass! She landed on top of me and yanked me over onto my back. Her left hand tightly gripped my throat, pinning me down. The glass shards under me stabbed through my skin. I gasped for air. Pain shot through my torso and pierced my lungs. Something’s broken. But that wasn’t the worst problem.
The worst was the blood. I smelled the acrid iron of it first. Then I felt the wet warmth spreading on my face. The taste of salty rust filled my mouth. Blood is so not good.
The other three suddenly hovered over us, their tongues swiping across their lips, pulled into maniacal grins. Their four faces looked down at me hungrily, their eyes glowing red. Hissing-snarling sounds rumbled in their throats. Vanessa peeled her lips back into a detestable grin, exposing razor-sharp teeth and pointed fangs.
“She’s mine!” she growled at the others. And I knew then, for sure, she was the woman in the street in Virginia. She’d said then I was always hers. And now she finally had me.
The others pulled slightly back but started crowding over us again, drawn to the blood. Low growls rolled in their chests.
With her right hand, Vanessa shoved my left shoulder down against the glass and cement. She moved her left hand to my right shoulder. Her knee pressed sharply into my thigh. I couldn’t move. But I could breathe again. I took a choking gasp. Pain seared through my chest. My vision blurred and dimmed as her face came down to mine. She smelled like lavender, vanilla and cigarettes.
I knew this was it. She was too strong for me. Fear and pain replaced my anger, eradicating any inhuman power I’d possessed just a few minutes ago. She hovered over my cheek. Her cool breath slid against my hot, wet skin. She inhaled deeply and a satisfactory smile overcame her face.
“Ah, at least you’ll be delicious.” She ran her tongue over my cheek, lapping the fresh blood. “Mmm. Tasty. Ready to join your man in hell?”
“If that’s where he is,” I whispered, my voice gurgling with blood.
She bent her head lower, to my throat, her hair feeling like wisps of silk as it fell on my face. I closed my eyes, hoping it would be fast. I felt the teeth and fangs cut through my skin, like a knife slicing into a tomato—slight resistance at first, then an easy slide through the soft flesh. Then she sucked. My blood seemed to gush through my body, rushing through my veins, looking for that outlet into her mouth, as if it wanted to be drained.
Good-bye, Dorian. You’ll be safe now. Mommy loves you.
Just as everything went nearly black, I no longer felt her weight on my shoulders and thigh. What happened? Owen? I couldn’t move, could barely see, but I could hear the fighting sounds clearly. Hisses and growls and thuds and screechy, scraping sounds, like metal against stone. It had to be Owen. And others. Too much action went on for Owen to be alone.
I wanted to yell at them to stop, to let the Daemoni have me, to not sacrifice their lives to save mine. That this was what I wanted and what they all needed. But I couldn’t do anything but lay there and listen. Then the sounds and movement suddenly ceased. All I could hear was heavy breathing. I tried to move, to see what was going on, but I couldn’t. My body felt numb, lifeless.
“You’re really doing this?” Vanessa shrieked. “You’re still choosing her?”
She heaved the last word.
“You’re damn right. Until death.” The silky, smooth voice still lovely, even in anger.
“If you think I won’t kill you, you’re wrong!” Vanessa screeched.
More fighting sounds. All I saw were flashes of darker black against the gray of my vision.
“Get them both!” one of the male vampires yelled.
“I can’t!”
“He’s too strong!”
Several Pops! And then silence.
Except for my raspy, gurgled breaths.
It was over. They were gone. I was left here to die. And I welcomed it. I welcomed the final darkness so I would never have to feel the pain again. I was ready to sink into it, looking for the relief of death.
Blood filled my lungs and throat. My vision blurred and darkened. It went black. And there he was. My Knight in shining armor, my hero. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“Alexis,” he said softly, his voice more sublime than I remembered. His hand lightly brushed the hair out of my face. Tiny grains of glass scratched across my skin. “My beautiful Alexis.”
He bent closer, his face filling my dim vision. Through the dark blur, I saw my sweet love. The hazel eyes had the same gold sparkle, even in the anxious expression. He picked glass off my face and each time he touched me, ever so gently, I felt a small electrical pulse. Then he carefully slid his arms under me and lifted me off the ground. Everything went black.
I felt a sudden change around me. I heard the water nearby and crunching of feet on gravel. We seemed to be going up steps and then the light shone brightly. The air smelled like our beach house…or Heaven.
And I knew. This was it. I’d been wrong all along. He was dead. And now I had joined him. We were finally together again. He’d carried me up the stairway to Heaven.
But wait.
Something wasn’t right.
It wasn’t exactly his face. This one was distorted. Wouldn’t he be perfect in Heaven?
And the pain. Excruciating pain shot through my ribs and back. How come there’s so much pain in death?
Am I not dead?
But if I’m not…
I tried so hard to not let the pain overcome me again as I looked into the scarred face for my answer. But I fought a losing battle. I could barely breathe through the fluid in my lungs. I let my eyes close, unconsciousness tugging at me, but I wouldn’t go yet. As he carried me, he bent his head down to mine, his lips in my hair.
“Ah, Lexi,” he murmured. “Ma lykita.”
My eyes flew open and I gasped loudly, painfully. No! Oh, no, no, no! I tried to fight the blackness. I have to know!
My mind screamed, but I couldn’t get any more out than a weak whisper. “Tristan?”
“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you now, my love.”
Blackness overcame me. The last thing I remembered was the smell of a summer’s day—mangos and papayas, lime and sage and a hint of man.
Chapter 8
I ran through a golden meadow, the grass as high as my waist, the sun bright and warm on my skin. I didn’t know this place and I didn’t care. Snow-capped mountains surrounded me and a lake spread out before me. My body felt light as happiness filled every cell. I burst through the meadow’s edge and my feet sunk into soft sand. And I couldn’t stop laughing. As the image faded, one word floated lazily in my head like a feather drifting on the air: “Happy.”
When the image disappeared completely and consciousness returned, I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. The soft and plump pillows cradled my head. The sheets felt smooth and satiny against my skin. I felt so comfortable and relaxed, I was sure my body, feeling nearly numb and weightless, still slept. Or, perhaps, it just no longer existed.
I sensed bright light on the other side of my eyelids. I heard waves in the distance. I also heard someone breathing close…very close. The scent of mangos and papayas, lime and sage and a hint of man filled my head, coating the back of my throat. Mmm… I smiled in my mind. Am I still dreaming or am I in Heaven?
I sensed someone watching me. Mom? Owen? Angels? Jesus?! I shifted slightly, wishing the feeling would go away. Son of a witch! Ouch! So lying still felt very good, but moving did not. And the pain confirmed I was, indeed, awake. And alive.
Then the events of last night flooded into my consciousness. The scene played out against the back of my eyelids. Walking up to the Daemoni, handing myself over to them. The beautiful, blonde vampire. Crashing through the glass table. The bite…. My hand flew to my neck.
“Am I a vampire?” I asked aloud, my voice husky so it sounded more like a croak. If I’d been turned, I wanted to be prepared. The world would be a different place for me.<
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A familiar chuckle nearby. Oh, how I love that sound. “No. Definitely not.”
Ah. That silky, smooth, lovely voice, like honey mixed with butter. And I remembered the rest…including what he called me. My eyes sprang open.
And there he lay. Looking like an angel. Perhaps he was.
Right in front of me, on the pillow next to mine, rested the face I’d been dreaming about. The one I’d nearly forgotten and held onto so tightly so I never would. Even more sublime than I ever allowed myself to remember. But…not exactly the same. Ugly scars marred the perfection. Yet still breathtaking. The most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
He couldn’t possibly be real.
I squeezed my eyes shut, mentally cussing out Swirly for pulling this ultimate head job on me. Just when I thought I’d finally pulled myself away from the edge of the abyss, that I was safe from falling in, I had apparently plunged all the way to the bottom. And Swirly ruled this place, creating impossible aberrations that hit all of my senses. But why? Had my mind created a safe place because what truly existed was too horrible for me to handle—being held captive by the Daemoni? Or had they brainwashed me? Or was I right about Swirly playing her most cruel game ever?
I shook my head, denying it all. I have to face this. Whatever it is, I chose it. This is what I wanted. I inhaled deeply and slowly, ignoring the protest from my ribs, and slowly peeked out of one eye. Nothing had changed. Still in my bed in the Caribbean room. Still the beautiful face watching me. Those hazel eyes—green on the outside, gold flecks around the pupils—staring into mine with the deepest love. He lifted an eyebrow. My own eyes widened. Could it possibly be…?
My heart skipped an unnatural rhythm as I swallowed the lump in my throat. I lifted my shaking hand, hesitated with the thought that this would kill me if I was wrong, and then finally reached for his face. I barely touched his cheek with my fingertips. Electricity sparked. My heart jumped. Tears sprang to my eyes. My whole body started trembling.
“Tristan?”
I barely caught his wide grin as he pulled me into his strong arms, pressing me against his hard body. My own body ached but I didn’t care. It felt unreal to be close to him again. To smell his scent, to feel his strength and warmth, to be in his arms when I thought I never would be again.
“Tristan, my sweet Tristan?” I cried, wanting to believe but still afraid to. Afraid demonic magic made me believe in this moment so they could rip him away again, a part of their torture for me. Or, worse, afraid I would wake up, completely alone, nothing changed, just another foggy morning.
“Yes, my love, I’m here now.” His lips found mine in a deep, loving kiss and they were so full and so soft. So gentle and lovely. So real. He wiped the tears from my face but they kept coming. “I’m here, ma lykita.”
Nothing had ever sounded so good to my ears. And I dared to allow myself to believe. I cried as I tried to kiss him all over while holding on to him as tightly as I could. He returned every one of my kisses, covering every inch of my face. The pieces of my heart fused back together with every kiss and it swelled so large, I felt sure my chest couldn’t contain it anymore. The emotions overwhelmed me and I sobbed in his arms as he held me.
“I can’t believe…it’s really you…I’m not hallucinating…I’m not dead?” I sputtered between tears and kisses.
“We’re together, my love. It’s real.”
A million questions raced through my mind, but I didn’t want to talk or think yet. I just wanted to hold him closely and savor the feeling of finally being together. I actually held him in my arms once again. I couldn’t let go of him, still afraid if I did, he would disappear.
I finally pulled back just enough to look into his face.
“It’s really you?”
He nodded. His beautiful, full lips pulled into a stunning grin. Oh, that exquisite smile I would have died to see again. His eyes held mine for several minutes, the gold sparkling brightly, the green like bright, shiny emeralds. I could see the love and happiness in their depths. Has he always been this damn gorgeous? I felt sure he had been. I remembered how he took my breath away, but he seemed just so unreal now. He looked like an angel…except for those scars.
My brows pushed together as I studied the scars, sadness overwhelming me. I traced each one with my fingertips—one curved down from his right temple to below his eye, another stretched across his left cheek, and a third cut across his chin. There were several smaller ones, too. Tears filled my eyes.
“What happened to you?” I whispered. “Where have you been? I’ve been so…so…”
I couldn’t say the words. So what? So desolate. So lost. So alone. So freakin’ insane.
His face darkened a shade. He put his finger to my lips.
“Shh…not now.” He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around me. “I just want to hold you now that I can. Feel your heart beat against me. Know you’re here and you’re okay. It feels so…amazing.”
“It feels like Heaven,” I whispered, laying my head against his chest.
“This has been my vision of Heaven for a long time,” he said. We lay in silence, staring at each other. I couldn’t keep my hands away from him—over his face, across his chest, along his hair to the ponytail behind his head—needing to physically touch him.
It really felt like Heaven on Earth. The depression, the anger, the insanity already felt like a distant memory now that I lay in his arms again. I hadn’t even realized how small and cold my heart had been until now. It swelled with love and warmed with happiness with every beat we lay there. He was my warmth and my light, chasing away Psycho and Foggy and possibly even Swirly.
“How do you feel?” he finally asked.
“Um, I don’t know. Tremendously happy doesn’t do it justice. I can’t even think of the right words. It’s too…big.”
He chuckled and kissed my forehead. “I completely understand. But I meant, how do you feel physically?”
“Oh.” I did a quick physical assessment. “Sore, if I move. And thirsty.”
He reached over me for a glass of water on the nightstand. I consumed every last drop of the refreshing liquid, the cool wetness feeling like a salve on my raw throat.
“I don’t feel too bad, considering. I think I had some broken ribs.”
“And probably a punctured lung. But you’re healing unusually fast.”
He looked at me with a strange expression. He narrowed his eyes as he searched my face.
“What?” I asked, feeling self-conscious. He’d probably been watching me sleep for some time, but I felt awkward as he looked at me like that. It had been so long to even have his eyes on me.
“Just thinking…” He seemed to change thought processes as his expression returned to nothing but love. “…how beautiful you are and how much I love you.”
He kissed me on the lips, the electricity charging between us. I returned the kiss with a deep hunger, not able to get enough of him.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I breathed, as more tears fell. “I just can’t believe it….”
I pulled myself into him, pressing as tightly as I could, kissing the scars on his cheeks and his chin and down his neck, burying my face in the crook between his neck and shoulder and inhaling deeply.
He stiffened and a low, quiet growl escaped from his throat. I looked up into his face. Flames burned in his eyes. I pulled back slowly, not wanting to do anything rash, not knowing what this meant. At one time, such a sound meant danger—that the monster within him fought for control, fighting to kill me. Our union supposedly squashed the monster, but… My heartbeat picked up pace. I thought he was my Tristan…but he’d also become somewhat of a stranger to me now.
“Tristan…?” I whispered hesitantly.
He blinked and focused on me, the fire controlled, and then closed his eyes and leaned back. He let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered. “I don’t know what they’ve done to me.”
“Shh…I
t’s okay,” I told him as much as myself. “We’ve been through this before. We can do it again.”
“I had nearly twenty years to prepare myself to be around you last time.”
“But you are still Amadis. And you know you have our love. You have my trust. That’s what it takes. We can do this.”
He cupped my face in his hand and looked at me with desperation in his eyes. “God, I love you, Alexis. I love you so much. I held onto you like a life rope. Only you—my love for you—could pull me through.”
My own sufferings suddenly felt insignificant. The excruciating pain I’d felt couldn’t possibly equate to all he’d gone through. I knew this even without knowing the story. I heard this truth in his voice. I saw it in the scars. My heart squeezed with love and guilt and compassion and grief. He’d endured so much—for us.
“I held on to the other end of the rope, pulling from here,” I whispered.
He stroked my cheek and brushed my hair back. “They told me so many different lies…you found someone else, they’d killed you, you’d killed yourself. But I just had to hang on anyway and if any of it were true, I would die at my own hand, not theirs.”
“Tristan…don’t ever say…” I shook my head. I told myself such talk didn’t matter because none of what they’d told him was true. “I never gave up on you. I never have and never will stop loving you. I am yours. You and me together forever. Nothing can change that.”
“You don’t know how good it is to hear that.”
He kissed me on the mouth again and our lips moved together with a desperate longing built over seven-and-a-half years. His tangy-sweetness filled my mouth and I didn’t think I could ever get enough of the delicious taste. My body wanted to melt into his and I needed to feel his skin next to mine. I tugged his shirt off and pressed tightly against him, kissing his shoulder and neck. I felt the scars on his back, rigid under my fingertips. My heart contracted again. He pulled away and rolled onto his back, sighing heavily.