by Eve Newton
Hearing his name said out loud is like a slap to the face and I take a step back, my hand dropping to my stomach.
“Wh–Where did you hear that name?” I stammer.
“That night, a few days after you told me you were a Vampire, when you had that nightmare? You were screaming his name, right before you started screaming mine.”
Hm, a night of revelations indeed.
“Oh,” I say flatly. I look away and drum my index finger on my lips. Cole watches me expectantly. I try to say his name, but it won’t come out of my mouth, so I go with, “He was my husband.”
Cole frowns. “I thought your husband’s name was Radulf?”
“My second husband,” I clarify, gritting my teeth against the pain.
He looks confused. “You married again? When?” he asks, sounding upset and not grasping that I don’t want to talk about this.
“In 1745,” I whisper.
“Oh,” he says, and his hurt deepens that I never told him.
I want to explain, but I can’t.
“Kitten?” Devon says from the doorway. “You’ve been through enough tonight. I’m sure this can wait,” he says pointedly.
“It’s okay, Dev. He has a right to know,” I say, but then I just stand there like a deer in headlights.
“Liv?” Cole prompts.
“Don’t push her, dude. It’s a difficult subject,” Devon murmurs, crossing to my side.
Well, the hornet’s nest has already been bashed about several times tonight. Might as well poke the stick in and wiggle it about a bit. Crossing to the side table, I pour myself a Scotch and grimace.
Inverness, Scotland 1745 – Emily
I met Fraser of Clan Campbell in a tavern in Inverness. I had been in Scotland for a few years now, slowly making my way north. I was similar to my natural form with blonde hair, in loose curls though, instead of straight and I was blue-eyed and taller. I was partaking of a bite to eat on my own in the corner by the door, when he bustled in letting the snow in with him.
I scowled at him as I brushed the snow off me. I wasn’t cold, just wet now. He chuckled at my reaction and held my eyes with his. Giving him a second glance, I arched my eyebrows at his impressive height. He must have been a towering six feet seven inches, a whole foot taller than my current height. His sparkling green eyes, the color of moss, twinkled at my appraisal.
He brushed his windswept black hair out of his face and boldly sat down at my table. “Sorry, lass, seems there’s nowhere else to sit,” he said with a laugh, gesturing to the nearly empty tavern. I smiled at his presumption and he grinned back: the most devastating grin that took hold of me and didn’t let go.
“Fraser Campbell,” he whispered.
“Emily Sutcliffe,” I whispered back.
“You are far too bonny a lass to be eating alone,” he said, exaggerating his Scottish burr; I could tell he was rather well spoken and educated.
“I prefer to eat alone,” I said pointedly and laughed as his face fell in disappointment. “I’ll make an exception just this once though, Fraser of Clan Campbell.”
His eyes lit up wickedly as he pinched a piece of bread from my plate.
“You are a long way from home,” he stated.
“As are you,” I replied.
“Hm,” he said grimly. “That I am. Although how a Sassenach like yourself knows that is most curious,” he remarked.
“Sassenach? I am offended, Mr. Campbell. I have lived in Scotland for several years now,” I said haughtily, and he laughed.
“I apologize, my lady.”
I smiled to show him I was not offended. “As for the clan lands, I make it my business to know. That way there are no…missteps.”
He smiled at my choice of words. “Aye, if only half the people who came here wanted to avoid…missteps. Speaking of which, what, pray tell, are you still doing here during this…” He waved his hand about.
I shrugged and remarked, “I love a good fight.”
He spat out the drink he had just taken in surprise. “Sprightly, aren’t you?” he said, voice low in admiration.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I murmured, and he blushed at my tone.
Clearing his throat, he continued to pick at my lunch in silence while I watched him, enjoying him immensely.
“Are you here to fight?” I asked suddenly, catching him off guard.
“I will be, when I’m needed,” he said grimly.
“And in the meantime?” I asked coquettishly.
“I will be getting to know you better,” he said with a wink.
I giggled. “I like the sound of that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Well?”
“Well, what?” I asked innocently.
“In order to get to know you better, you need to tell me something about yourself,” he said.
I remained silent, then said, “I believe I am still here, this far north, waiting for you.”
He looked confused momentarily and then said, “Waiting for me? You know of me?”
I shook my head. “No, sweet Fraser. It’s destiny. I didn’t know I was waiting for you until I found you.”
“Ah, I see,” he said and flashed me that brilliant smile. “I’m inclined to feel the same way, sweet Emily.”
T he next few days were spent in a whirlwind. I knew I was madly in love with him and wanted him to be mine – in the everlasting sense. I wasn’t sure he would accept my true nature, so I put off telling him, enjoying just being with him, making love to him, talking endlessly of everything and nothing. He was everything I ever wanted. He had Constantine’s serious warrior side: a hard, cold, yet passionate dominance mixed with Devon’s fun side: charming, intelligent, funny, and coy. He was simply perfect, and he loved me. But I still just couldn’t tell him, not wanting to ruin what we had. We made a striking couple and were met with envious looks wherever we went.
He asked me to marry him, four weeks after we met, and I readily accepted. We married in the April of 1745, just months before he was called to arms to help defend Carlisle.
It was the happiest day of my long life. I planned to tell him that night of my secret and my desire to turn him so we could be together forever. After we made love that night, I prepared to tell him, but we were interrupted by a messenger sent from Campbell of Ardslignish, requesting Fraser’s attendance in Carlisle, anon. All thoughts of my secret were put on hold as we prepared to leave for England.
It was a war for him personally and one I knew he regretted. His clan was split in this fight, but he had sworn allegiance to Bonnie Prince Charlie and was fighting to keep his land for his king.
I loved him more each passing day on the road to England. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone so much. I feared for his safety even though he was a seasoned warrior. I enjoyed watching him train. He was so powerful and despite his great height, he was so graceful and swift. Adept at swordsmanship myself, remembering fondly my lessons with William all those centuries ago, I challenged him to his utter surprise and delight, especially as he couldn’t get the better of me. So maybe I cheated and used my Vampire abilities just a tiny bit, but it was worth it just to see the look on his face.
We went to bed that night in rapture. He kissed me so sweetly and touched me so gently, like I would break. I loved him so much. I forewent any assertiveness I usually felt and let him take me as he pleased. His hands sparked on my flesh as he trailed his hands all over me. Mine were all over him, my cold touch made him shiver. He kissed me and whispered so softly, “I love you.” I was so happy. After the heartbreak and disappointment with Constantine and the crazy ride with Devon, that right there was all I wanted. He was everything to me. He gently laid me down on the bed, his loose hair brushed my face, his intense green eyes focused on my fake blue ones and it made me flinch a bit when he whispered how much he loved the color. I brushed it all aside though when he entered me. He was enormous and rock hard as he split me open. I craved him, I needed him. All of him. His touch,
his lips, his look. Everything. I had to tell him. He had to know. He had to accept me so he could be like me and I would never lose him. Those thoughts consumed me, as the battles were ever closer. I would die without him. I could not lose him.
I came ferociously around him, and he groaned into my mouth at the feel of me. “I love you, Emmie,” he whispered, and I said it back meaning it more than I ever had before.
T he night of the 20th December 1745, he came looking for me, wondering where I had disappeared to. He found me in the barn of the inn we were staying at, drinking deeply from the innkeeper. His astounded look turned murderous as he saw what I was doing. Retracting my fangs quickly, I pushed the innkeeper aside who was still alive, but unconscious, with apologies on my lips.
“What are you?” he asked with contempt.
I explained as quickly and thoroughly as possible given that he had drawn his sword and he was ready to cleave my head off at any second.
At the words “Vampire” and “drink blood,” he closed his eyes in disbelief. “No! No! It’s not possible. You are the sweetest person I know. So loving and generous, you would never hurt people like that,” he said, but it wasn’t true. At least that I knew of myself.
“Fraser. I love you. I loved you the second you blew into that tavern. We were meant to be together. Don’t you see? I honestly believe I was made immortal, so I could live long enough to meet you, to be with you, fall in love and marry you.”
His face was a mix of emotions. “Immortal? How old are you?” he asked in confusion.
“Seven hundred and thirty-three years old,” I said hesitantly. His mouth dropped open in shock.
“I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you. What kind of game are you playing?” he spat out.
“No game, my love. I have wanted to tell you, but I was afraid. I am still the same woman you fell in love with,” I said desperately.
“And yet, you kill people for food!” he exclaimed in disgust.
“No!” Well, yes, sometimes, but this wasn’t the time for full confessions. “I feed to survive. All this time we have been together, and I have never hurt you. Don’t you understand that I would never, could never hurt you?”
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “I do know that you would never hurt me. But the others? You hurt them.”
“To survive, my love. I don’t have a choice,” I said.
He blinked, as in a flash of Vampire speed I was behind him, snapping the neck of the English scout ready to slit his throat, who had snuck up on us, me, in a moment of weakness. He spun around as the scout dropped to the floor and I sighed. “I’m sorry, my love. I should have told you sooner. It never seemed the right time.”
“You…you just saved me,” he said in amazement.
Slightly offended that he would think otherwise, I shrugged. “I love you. I will never let anything happen to you.”
“I love you too. I will accept what you are. To do so otherwise would be like ripping a limb from my body. I have been yours since the second you scowled at me in Inverness and I will be yours until the day I die.”
I pulled him towards me in earnest and kissed him deeply. “Be like me,” I whispered to him. “I can make you like me, and we can be together forever.”
He pulled away, horrified, and my heart sank.
“No!” he cried.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“He died a few months later as a human, at…” I sniffle softly. “You know, I’d rather not go into the specifics.” I turn to Devon, who is standing steadfast by my side and he embraces me.
“Battle of Culloden,” he says softly, having no doubt received a quizzical look from Cole at my omission.
“Oh, shit, Liv. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about it,” he says woefully.
“Well, now you know. It's better this way,” I say and sniffle again.
Cole crosses over to me to pull me to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.
“I don’t want to talk or think about it again. Please. Can we just leave it alone now?” I plead.
“Of course. I love you.”
I smile weakly. “I love you too.”
I ask them to leave me with my thoughts and they reluctantly go. I curl up on the couch in my office staring at the stained-glass window, Scotch in hand. The painful memories are so close to the surface now. Fraser’s vehement refusal had ultimately been his death sentence. If he had stepped onto Culloden Moor as a Vampire, he would have survived. For the thousandth time, I curse myself for not just turning him anyway. He would have been furious with me, but he would still be here, I smile sadly. He did furious almost as well as Constantine. My heart aches for my lost love. I steer my thoughts away from his final moments and get up to find my new-found love, as he needs me. He needs me to be strong.
“Hey,” I say softly as I find him out by the pool sipping a beer.
He looks up and smiles. “Hey.”
I hand him a glass of blood, which he stares at momentarily then takes.
“It’s unconventional, but you need to drink,” I say, adding, “Cheers.” He touches his glass to mine and takes a sip.
“Thank you,” he says.
“No worries.”
“No, I mean, thank you for telling me. About him.”
Oh.
I nod grimly. He takes my hand and we sit in silence, sipping our blood.
“Better?” I ask when he finishes.
“Yeah. It’s not the same, but it’ll do.”
“Don’t worry, we have someone for you tomorrow. She'll be here first thing,” I say.
“Okay. And you?”
I hold my glass up. “This will suffice for now. The cravings are less now that the Power has calmed.” I avert my look remembering my afternoon with CK.
“So, who do you think that man is from your vision?” he asks at the mention of the Power.
“I have a working theory, but I’m not willing to share yet, just in case I’m wrong,” I say mysteriously.
He looks intrigued. “Aw, you can’t just say that and leave me hanging,” he sulks.
I laugh. “We shall all find out soon enough, my love, I’m sure. Come now. It’s bedtime,” I order.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says and salutes sardonically. I see myself in him, his defiance of me so similar to my own with Constantine.
I narrow my eyes, and he smiles that half smile at me that stops my heart. “You are lucky that I’m so easygoing,” I say as I stand and pull him up with me. “It is my right to punish you for your impudence,” I add, my eyes glinting wickedly.
He grins. “Oh, I wouldn’t say you were easygoing after tonight’s performance, but don’t let me stop you from meting out any discipline you see fit,” he says with a wicked glint of his own.
In a swirl of smoky black, I whisk him up to our bedroom. Impressed that I managed a passenger, I pin him forcibly down and start an arduous torture on him, which soon has him begging for mercy.
T hat night I dream the same dream in the canyon, but this time when the voice calls to me, I turn and he’s standing there. The man from my vision, next to Corinne.
“Aefre,” he says again. I try to speak, to ask him who he is, but no words come out. “Let go, Aefre. It’s the only way.”
I awake with a start. Let go? Of what? I wasn’t aware I was holding on to anything. Glancing at the clock it tells me it’s 6 AM. Four hours of sleep again. This is ridiculous. It should be less, not more. Cole is still sound asleep, so I creep out of bed and ‘Teleport’ downstairs to Devon.
He jumps as I appear next to him. “Jesus! Stop doing that!” he snaps, and I grin.
He fetches me some tea while I ponder my dream. “The dream man told me I had to let go. What am I holding onto, Devon?” I ask him candidly.
He looks at me in earnest. “I could answer that, but I don’t fancy a smackdown this early in the morning.”
“Just say it,” I urge.
; “I think you know,” he says, but then his phone rings before I can get any more out of him. If he knows, I should know. Right? Scowling when he whispers he has to go, I’m interrupted myself.
“What?” I snap, not even bothering to check caller ID.
“Err, Liv?” It’s Scott.
“Yes, Scott. What is it?”
“Harlow’s files. I need them back and signed by 9 AM.”
Shit! I had completely forgotten them after my adventure yesterday.
“Crap, sorry. I have them here. I’ll be with you in an hour,” I say, glancing at the clock.
“Okay, see you in a bit.”
I hang up and ‘Teleport’ – really, there just isn’t another word for it – back upstairs, my dream forgotten.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
C ole wakes as I bustle around the room getting ready. “What time is it?” he asks groggily.
“7:30. I have to go, baby. Duty calls. Don’t forget the Feeder will be here soon. Esther will come and find you and either she or Devon will supervise, okay?”
“I don’t need supervision,” he sulks at me.
I smile gently at him. “Just humor me, please.”
“Okay,” he says grudgingly. I kiss him swiftly.
“Call me later. I love you,” he calls as I dash out.
“I love you,” I call back and disappear downstairs grabbing my briefcase from where I left it by the door.
Grayson is waiting with the car so I can work on my way in.
A bout twenty minutes later, my phone rings. It’s Devon. Before I can even say hello, he says, “If I wanted to babysit a charge, I would have made one of my own.”
“Oh, Devon. Don’t sulk. Just help him,” I wheedle.
“No need. He’s got the hang of it just fine,” Devon responds.
“Then what’s the problem?” I growl impatiently.
“Just making my stand. A teacher, I am not,” he says firmly.
“Fine. Position clear. I must go, busy, busy!” I hang up. It has always struck me as odd that he has never sired a charge. Not that I’m complaining. I love having him all to myself, but it is most definitely a rare situation.