Compel Me: A Reverse Harem Vampire Romance (The Last Vocari Book 1)

by Elena Lawson

  “I remember this,” Frost said with nostalgia in his gaze and a soft voice. His gaze hard. “You looked so beautiful that day. I remember thinking that I’d never feel about another girl the way I felt about you.”

  In the photo was me. Alone. In a pretty blue dress with white flowers in my hair. It was Frost’s mom’s wedding to the asshole she ended up divorcing only a few months later. Her third divorce, I think. He’d invited me when the other guys couldn’t go, making sure to tell me this isn’t a date, so don’t expect me to dance or anything, k Rosie?

  “That’s not fair,” I choked.

  I didn’t want to hear that. Not now. They were my best friends, but I loved them all. When I imagined my wedding someday—before all the terrible awful things happened—I’d alternate their faces in my mind where the groom would stand.

  Like any eleven-year-old girl—I was hopelessly in love with my best friends. Except where most girls my age had a crush on one boy, I couldn’t choose just one of them. I couldn’t imagine my life without even one of them. But as it turned out, I would be forced to live a life without any for the next ten years.

  And now…

  A tear fell from my eye and dropped onto the desk. Catching the glimmer of wet in the glow of early sunrise coming in from the window a few feet away, Frost turned to me. “I’m sorry,” he said, and reached toward my face.

  I shrank back. Wanting to hit him and hug him and stake him all at the same time.

  He tried again, and this time I let him. His thumb wiped the hollow beneath my eye, drying the wetness there before his hand moved lower to trace the curve of my jaw and tilt my face up by my chin. “I will not hurt you, Rose. I promise.”

  How could he promise that? Vampires were creatures of whim. Of unchecked desire. They fucked and fed and killed as they pleased. Out of all the supernatural races, they were the ones with the least control.

  I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A sob racked my body and my knees tried to buckle. Frost pulled me in, and I didn’t fight him. He crushed me against him, and my fingers dug into his jacket, clutching him to me as I cried.

  “Shhhh,” he hushed me, a hand holding tightly against my lower back. “It’s alright.”

  I shook my head against his shirt, staining it with my tears. “Nothing is alright.”

  This wasn’t me. I couldn’t even remember the last time I cried. Years. It had been years since I allowed myself the luxury of succumbing to my sorrow. I was The Black Rose. I didn’t fucking cry.

  But I’d missed him. So much. And if I just pretended, he was still just Frost—my Frost—it made everything alright. Less painful. I could let him hold me, stroke his fingers through my hair. I could feel his body against mine and feel rooted for the first time since mom died. Our arms like the branches of a gnarled tree. One that would stay standing despite storms and floods and age.

  I’d forgotten what that felt like. To belong in a place. With a person.

  “Come on, we should talk,” he said, pulling away and leaving me cold and near shivering. My arms crossing to keep warm. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. And when you’re satisfied I’m telling the truth—I have a proposition for you.”

  My brows narrowed.

  “And if you agree, I’ll take you to the others.”

  My pulse jumped. “Blake and Ethan?”

  “Yes.”

  I was shocked at how much I still wanted that—even knowing what they were now. My chest ached with the need to see them. I wanted to touch Ethan’s soft brown hair—I wondered if he still wore it long? And to see the spark in Blake’s near-black eyes when the light hit them just so. Like snowflake obsidian—the stone I wore in a simple silver setting on my middle finger.

  I drew in a long, shaking breath and attempted to stand up straight. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

  “The first time we actually found one was a couple years back—in St. Louis.”

  I’d been right. After what happened to me and mom, they’d started researching, and then when they were old enough—they went looking for proof. Ethan even went so far as to put himself through Paranormal Studies at some swanky university after he finished high school. It made my heart both light and heavy to know they’d never forgotten me like I thought they did. They did the opposite.

  They’d dedicated their lives to proving I wasn’t a liar—and to finding me. But I didn’t want to be found. I did my best to never leave a trail. Never stay in a place for more than a couple weeks. Less when I started killing multiple vamps a night. They didn’t have a hope in hell of finding me.

  “We freaked out,” he said animatedly, running a hand over his hair. The sun had risen fully now, but I’d duct-taped cardboard over my windows and drew the curtains, ensuring not even a sliver of light got inside.

  “We saw him in action. We tracked him through his kills—turned out he liked to pick up girls from a club. One night we followed him and his latest victim outside, and then when they got into a car and we followed that, too. He took her to a cabin in the woods and—” he paused. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

  “So…what? He caught you? Turned you all?”

  Frost shook his head. “Nah. We killed him.”

  That’s my boys.

  “So then how did you—” I started, and Frost looked away. “What happened to you?”

  I didn’t think I wanted to hear it, but I needed to. He said he was here to help me. And that I could trust him. There was no way of that happening unless I knew everything.

  “You’re not going to like this part,” he said, his gaze flickering to meet mine for an instant before he looked away again.

  I waited.

  “We—well, we asked for it.”

  I shot to my feet. “You what?”

  I must not have heard him right.

  He reached out to grab my hand—no doubt trying to make me sit back down. I wrenched it out of his grasp. “Rose—”

  “Explain,” I growled, unflinching.

  How could they?

  I watched his adams apple bob in his throat and I wondered in the back of my mind if he was growing thirsty…and then I knew what my next question would be.

  He bowed his head. “It took all three of us to kill that first one,” he told me. “And we barely made it out alive. Ethan had three broken ribs. My skull was fractured. The fucking thing tore a gash eight inches long in Blake’s chest.

  I sat back down, my hands knotting tightly in my lap.

  “It was that night we realized they can fuck with your head.”

  “Compulsion,” I whispered, imagining some vile bloodsucking creatures compelling my boys. My fist clenched and I itched to stab something.

  “Yes. Compulsion,” he sighed. “It changed our plans. We realized that even if we somehow found a way to prove it. They could make it all go away. If we showed the police a vampire corpse—other vampires would just cover it up. We thought about videotaping one and trying to sell the footage to a news team. But that sort of thing can be manipulated. Or people would just think it were staged.”

  I was nodding along with his words. These were all things I had thought of in the beginning too, until I figured out what needed to be done.

  “So, we figured the only way to make up for what happened to you and Mrs. Ward was to kill as many as we could.”

  I found myself reaching out to him. I was so fucking proud. Felt so…loved.

  Frost looked at me with an apology in his gaze. A rare expression for him. My Frost was never sorry. “But we couldn’t do that if we risked dying every time we tried.”

  It was starting to click in my head. I was strong. I’d trained for years. And I had something they didn’t—I could compel, too. But them—they wouldn’t stand a chance against a fully-matured vampire as mere mortals. It would be suicide. Come to think of it, I was shocked they’d even survived their first encounter.

  “Once we knew they existed, we couldn’t go back to our normal lives. How could yo
u, right? But if we were going to be able to do anything about it—we needed to be stronger and faster,” he exhaled long a low. “It made sense, in a fucked-up sort of way. They wouldn’t expect us to kill our own kind.”

  So, they traded their souls—their beautiful souls—to become the monsters they hunted.

  To avenge me.

  It was a little much to swallow, and my stomach soured, bile rising again.

  “So, you’re saying that you and Ethan and Blake—you’re vampire hunters? Like me? Vampires who kill other vampires?”

  He shrugged, nodding. “The ones who deserve it.”

  I cocked my head at him. “The ones who deserve it?” I asked him, repeating his words back to him—imploring him to see where he went wrong in that sentence.

  “We’ve been living among them for a year now, Rose. They aren’t all monsters.”

  “Ha! Yeah right.”

  Frost’s gaze never faltered. His (color) eyes drilled into me, with not even a flicker of doubt. “It’s true. Though I suppose it depends on your definition of monster.”

  “Next you’ll be telling me you live off strawberry milkshakes and have sleepovers with all your vampire besties.”

  The corner of Frost’s mouth twitched up into that crooked half-smile he was known for—the one all the girls in school once drooled over. But he’d never looked at any of them. He only looked at me.

  “Blood bags,” he said simply, and I shut up, confused, but listening carefully now. “We tried animal blood, but it doesn’t make us as strong as the blood of humans does. We can’t afford more disadvantage than we already have because of our age. We can live off it in a pinch, though…anyway,” he said, switching back to what he was saying before. “We take the blood bags from blood banks, I compel them so it’s like we were never there—which is bad enough as it is, we know—but it’s better than taking lives.”

  I had to make sure I was getting this straight. I was still having trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that they didn’t kill people to comprehend that Frost could compel, too. It was rare for a vamp as young as he was, still a babe compared to most, already had the strength to compel. But then…he was always the strongest of us.

  Pursing my lips, I considered what he said, needing clarification on just one thing before I let him continue. “So, you’re a vampire who drinks from a blood bag for sustenance. Ok, I can see that. It makes sense,” I said. And it did, but mostly because my mind couldn’t comprehend the thought of Frost actually killing someone. “But you’re telling me you’ve never killed anyone?”

  His expression darkened and I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I mean—vampires don’t count,” I said in a rush, eager for him to take back the four words he’d just let slip from his lips. Surely, he didn’t mean—

  Frost regarded with a dangerous flash in his eyes, and for a brief instant, I saw the monster that he kept caged inside. I saw Frost the vampire. And my heart stilled in my chest.

  “I’m not talking about vampires, Rosie. I’ve killed people, too. In the beginning—the urges…they were unfathomable. I—I…” he trailed off and I could tell he was having trouble getting the rest out. Hell, I would too if I were admitting to fucking murder.

  “You what Frost?” I was almost shouting now, wanting—no—needing him to admit it. That he’s fucked up. Him and the other had turned themselves into monsters.

  “I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

  I didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but somehow, I did. Maybe it was because I’d spent so long alone. Or maybe it was because I missed him. Or because it wasn’t just vampires I hated, but humankind, too.

  Regardless of the reason why—the fact that it didn’t bother me as much as it once would have made me feel sick. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I stood back up from the edge of the bed and swayed. My head filled with air. Or something more like helium.

  I blinked to clear the black spots crowding my vision and steadied my feet. I needed some water. Or food. Yes, that was it. When was the last time I’d eaten?

  “Where are you going?” Frost asked with a gentleness that was so unlike how I remembered him. “You’ve asked your questions, woman. Now it’s my turn to tell you—”

  “Unless you want me to pass out, I’ve gotta eat. Humans need food, remember?”

  My hand closed around the handle and in a flash, Frost was off the bed and had himself plastered to the wall behind the door, hissing as a wide swath of sunlight entered the bedroom from the window in the hallway.

  “Christ, Rose!” he cursed.

  “Sorry,” I shrugged, glaring at him and I’d admit—kind of enjoying the sight of Camden Frost cowering behind my bedroom door. “I’m not accustomed to having vampires in my bedroom.”

  5

  Black Betty fired up on the second turn of the key. I wondered if Blake was still good with cars? Maybe he could make my Betty run like new if—

  But I couldn’t think that far ahead yet. I still didn’t know what Frost wanted—what his proposition was. If he meant what he said about not hurting me, then I could decline. Walk away scot free.

  Was that what I really wanted, though?

  He’s a vampire! One part of me shouted. Stake him!

  He’s Frost. The other part pleaded. He’s still Frost.

  And he doesn’t kill people…at least, not anymore if he was to be believed. That was something, wasn’t it?

  And fuck if the mere sight of him hadn’t done things to my body I hadn’t felt in longer than I remembered. I had the occasional lay, sure. Once every few months when I forgot to charge my loyal Mr. Dickins.

  But this had been something different. I wanted him—or at least, I did before he showed his fangs.

  I shook my head as I took the bend onto the main road a bit too quickly, Betty jolting to make the turn. My black hair fell around my face and I batted it out of the way, peering back at the last second to see the cardboard still in place over my upstairs bedroom window.

  I smirked. He wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not anytime soon. I checked the dash clock. Sunset wasn’t for another ten hours and forty-five minutes. Good because I’d need a more than a quick drive to Cool Bean Café to work through everything Frost told me. I needed a damned nap, too. And afterward, a nice hot shower and a quad-shot americano to get me through the rest of the day and night.

  Frost might be waiting a while.

  I ate breakfast like starved coyote. When the waiter came to take my plate before I was finished, I swear I actually snapped at him. I may have growled a bit. Think I scared the poor little bugger half to death. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. And when he noticed the red stains over the shoulder of my halter, he turned a shade close to green.

  I didn’t bother trying to explain it away. I just told him, weaving the words with the force of my compulsion to run along and get me another one of those awesome buttery croissants I liked. After I was done there, I napped in the truck. Then I showered in the local gym. I didn’t even have to compel anyone to get in there. Turns out if you just act like you belong, no one even bothers to questions you.

  It was a trick I picked up eons ago. Saved me a lot of spent energy compelling people to get the things I needed.

  But now here I was, right back where I started. Betty idling in on the street outside the house. Me—looking up at the cardboard covered window, grinding my teeth as the sun started to set, casting the long shadow of the apple tree over the drive.

  Godfuckingdamnit.

  I pounded my palms against the steering wheel, grimacing, before I slumped back against the seat.

  You’re the motherfucking Black Rose, bitch, get in there and hear him out. Or kill him. Or leave. But fucking decide one way or the other because this shit is pathetic.

  My head fell against the round top of the worn wheel and I sighed. The truth was, I didn’t want to do any of those things. I just wanted him to shu
t up—stop saying things that hurt to hear. Swallow his fangs and be the Frost I remembered instead of the Frost he’d become.

  But that wasn’t an option. Once changed, there was no way to go back to the way you were. Now Frost could only ever be one of two things; undead or dead dead. He couldn’t ever be living—not anymore.

  Ugh… screw it.

  Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, I made up my mind and shut off the engine. The door creaked as I lifted up on the handle and shoved the door open with my heel.

  “Rose!”

  A blur of movement and flash of black and white-blond.

  Frost stood outside the door to my truck, his chest heaving as his relieved gaze traveled from my worn leather boots all the way up my bare legs and over the simple black dress that hugged my curves—and eventually, to my eyes.

  “I didn’t think you were going to come back. I thought you just left…”

  The hurt in his gaze was unmistakable.

  Leave him?

  It became clear very suddenly. Like a break in the clouds during a storm. The moment when the light shines through and illuminates everything in a myriad of color and brightness. I shook my head. How could I leave him? “You never left me.”

  He just couldn’t find me. None of my boys could. Until now. They never gave up on me. So, how could I give up on them?

  Frost stepped in closer and brushed the hair back from my face. This time, I didn’t shy away from his touch. “And I never will.”

  “Good,” I said, shocking myself with the word. “You fucking better not, Camden Frost.”

  6

  It was too early to bury the dead vamp. Though the cul-de-sac was quiet, it wasn’t fully dark yet and there would still be people returning from their evening jobs. I let Frost lead me back into the house—back into my old room, where the windows were covered, and the bedspread smelled like him now.

  He’d snatched a bottle from the cabinet above the fridge on our way up—the liquor had probably been there for years. To this day, I still couldn’t reach that cupboard. It said five-foot-five on my driver’s license, but I’d been in my thick-soled combat boots that day. I was lucky if I was five-three. A mouse compared to the lion that was Frost.