The Last Vampire: Book Two

by R. A. Steffan

  A low throb had taken up residence between my thighs sometime earlier, competing with whatever complicated thing my heart was trying to do. I didn’t like the combined feeling… and I also craved it like a drug I hadn’t known I needed. Strong hands slid down my shoulders, brushing along the length of my arms and guiding me into a new pose that stretched my spine between the grip he now held on my wrists and the fulcrum of my hips resting on his feet.

  And—holy Jesus fuck–it felt good. Not just because of the deep stretch through my pelvis and back, but also for the feeling of flying… of being suspended above the earth like a bird on the wing. A faint moan slipped out on my next exhalation, and his grip on my wrists tightened, his thumb caressing my pulse point.

  I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be letting these walls crack, because I wasn’t at all sure what sort of monsters lay in wait behind them. As though sensing that I was in danger of being overwhelmed, Rans completed the pose and helped me dismount, my feet landing lightly on the carpet as he bent his knees and stiff-armed my upper body into an upright position.

  I took a step back, my breathing going ragged as he relaxed back, lacing his fingers across his chest and looking up at me from the floor with depthless blue eyes.

  “I, uh, need to use the bathroom,” I stammered, and fled the room.

  A few moments later, I closed the upstairs bathroom door behind me and leaned on it. My eyes were burning and I didn’t even know why.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Was I so pathetically desperate for some kind of intimacy in my life that I was going to have a meltdown after a goddamned yoga session? Rans needed me to help him figure out what the Fae were up to, and I needed him for the protection he could offer.

  Okay, so we’d fucked a few times. I was part succubus. I needed sex, and he knew that. He seemed to get enjoyment and a bit of temporary mental peace out of it, so it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. That was all. Anything else was just my loneliness reading things into a purely practical partnership. Things that weren’t there.

  My heart was pounding again. I had to start thinking about how to extricate myself from all of this. I needed to get my dad, and then I needed to get out. The Fae would never stop chasing me. Eventually they’d track me down again. Hell, if Rans hadn’t been successful in overcoming Alma’s conditioning and making her forget about me, they might well know already that I was in Chicago.

  If they descended en masse and Rans tried to protect me… well, I’d seen him fight off a few Fae, but now I also knew that the Fae had a weapon that could murder vampires. I absolutely refused to be the reason he died.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I had already agreed to giving Albigard a few hours to get the phone message and start looking into things. Since I was the Fae’s real target, it wouldn’t make any sense for them to hurt Dad, or… kill him.

  No sense at all. They probably intended to use him as some sort of hostage against me, right? There was still time to save him.

  And now all I had to do was go back downstairs to the family room and pretend I hadn’t just come close to sniveling like a little girl because someone finally cared enough about me to do all the things Rans was doing. Because I’d finally found someone who fit inside my messed-up life.

  I thumped my head gently against the door a couple of times, in the vain hope that it would make my brain stop being stupid. Then I flushed the toilet and ran the water in the sink to support my paper-thin excuse for running off.

  When I returned, Rans was waiting, leaning against the foot of the couch in an easy sprawl. “All set,” I said, too brightly. “What’s next?”

  Rans shot me an enigmatic glance from beneath his dark fringe of hair. “Next? Why, Zorah…I’m so glad you asked…”

  * * *

  Four hours later, I was a sweating, shaky mess after an afternoon spent going over and over basic self-defense moves. Maybe Rans had sensed my inability to cope with gentleness, or maybe this was simply the usual way you taught someone how to fight. Whatever the case, my gooey, doe-eyed emotions had been replaced first by surprise, then frustration at being overpowered again and again by a much larger and stronger opponent… and finally by sheer exhaustion.

  I didn’t feel that I’d made any significant amount of progress in my skill set, but there had been a couple of occasions before my fatigue started to overcome me where our sparring fell into a sort of rhythm, almost like a dance. The feeling lasted for only a few seconds each time, at which point Rans would duck through my guard and subdue me.

  As far as the iron dagger went, we hadn’t progressed beyond him showing me how to grip the hilt properly, and a few minutes of practice at drawing it from its sheath at the small of my back. At the moment, if I tried to use it, I’d be more likely to injure my opponent by accident than on purpose… if I didn’t fall over my own feet and stab myself to death instead, that is.

  Rans leaned against a bare stretch of wall, not even winded. There wasn’t a drop of sweat on the smug bastard’s body, either.

  “I thought you said you’d taken self-defense classes?” he asked.

  Hmm… maybe I could try throwing the knife at him?

  “I knew enough…” I said around wheezing gasps, “to get away… when Caspian grabbed me at the restaurant.”

  He made a dismissive noise. “Golden Boy was just trying to rattle you. He wanted to get a feel for your power levels, and your experience.”

  “Well, it fucking worked,” I grumbled, my heart rate gradually slowing to normal. I used the hem of my shirt to blot sweat from my face—something that might have been more effective if the fabric wasn’t already as sweat-soaked as the rest of me.

  “Drink some water,” Rans said without bothering to move from his position propping up the wall. “Then take a shower. Do you want me to join you for that part?”

  I stilled, trying to pick through that sentence for the underlying meaning. People just… didn’t say shit like that to me.

  “Why?” I ended up asking, since mindreading skills were failing me.

  His expression was two parts exasperated and one part pitying. “In case you need to feed from me,” he said patiently.

  The unexpected jolt that hit me in the belly was unwelcome. Damn it, I was trying to pull away, not get entangled further in the web.

  “Oh,” I said stupidly. “No, I’m… uh… I’m fine.”

  Perhaps the way my knees were trembling belied my words somewhat, but I was hoping this was just a matter of good old workout fatigue. While I’d made it a point to keep up with gentle yoga and Pilates routines even when I was struggling with my health, the truth was that this was the first serious physical workout I’d had in many years.

  In a way, it kind of felt good to know that my muscles would be sore tomorrow. It made me feel like a normal person—ironic though that was under the current circumstances.

  “As you like,” Rans said, though his eyes on me were penetrating.

  I wondered what he saw. Actually, no—scratch that. It was better if I didn’t know. “I’ll just… go get that drink from the kitchen,” I mumbled, and fled the downstairs family room for the second time that afternoon.

  The water was cool in my stomach, and the shower warm against my skin. After a few minutes of intense internal debate, I allowed myself an experiment. The tub-shower combo didn’t have a detachable massaging showerhead, but I let my fingers play over my breasts and slide downward, teasing and rubbing my clit with the familiarity of long practice.

  I tried not to think of Rans as I urged my body toward completion. Tried, and failed miserably. I bit my lip as the orgasm rolled through me, holding my breath to ensure that no sound would escape my lips. When the familiar buzz of endorphins eased, I leaned against the tub wall and took stock.

  I felt… better, sort of. More relaxed, less shaky. Less stressed out. It didn’t bring with it the sense of renewal that sex with another person—that sex with Rans—brought me. I did
n’t experience that feeling of being deliciously sated and rested, like I’d just eaten a gourmet meal and slept like a baby for eight solid hours.

  It did help a little, but I knew full well that I couldn’t sustain myself with masturbation in the long term. Hell, I’d already tried that approach, even if I hadn’t known at the time that I was part succubus. It was clear that unless I wanted to end up as starved and debilitated as I’d been for much of the past several years, I would have to involve another person.

  I would have to feed from another person. The thought left a bad taste in my mouth.

  If I was serious about cutting Rans loose once I’d found Dad—if I was serious about protecting my dark angel from the raging dumpster fire that was my life now—how was I going to keep my strength up without him? Having sex with humans over the long term could hurt them… maybe even kill them.

  Forget about my scruples, though—the plain truth was that something deep inside me howled in outrage at the idea of sleeping with another man. I tried to stomp on the little voice in hopes that it would shut up.

  Come on… don’t be stupid. We’re talking about a centuries-old vampire here. Do you expect that he’ll become celibate the moment you leave, and spend the rest of his immortal life pining for the American waitress who loved him and left him? As if!

  It didn’t help.

  The prospect of spending the rest of my—probably abbreviated—life on the run from the Fae while engaging in random one-night hookups to stay alive was appalling beyond belief. In fact, the very idea made me shudder.

  I wondered idly if I had to actually be involved in sexual activity to draw energy from it. Maybe I could become a professional voyeur, haunting raunchy sex clubs and paying desperate strippers to masturbate for me while I watched.

  Ugh. Now I felt positively queasy.

  Assuming I was strong enough to let Rans go before I dragged him down with me, the future was going to suck donkey balls. One thing was painfully clear, though. I was already becoming an addict. A vampire junkie. An undead groupie. A nosferatu…

  Something.

  It would be best if I kept my distance from Rans as much as humanly possible until we carried out whatever plan he and Albigard came up with, because I clearly couldn’t be trusted around noble, attractive men with chronic iron deficiencies and sexy English accents.

  I didn’t see any way that my own faerie-tale was going to end well at this point. I wasn’t sure if my dad’s storyline could be salvaged or not, though I was bound and determined to try—no matter what the cost. But there was no reason Rans couldn’t have a happy ending.

  He just needed to avoid being dragged into my modern-day literary tragedy. And if Nigellus could eventually manage to talk him out of his self-destructive quest to poke the hornets’ nest that was the war in hopes that answers would fly out, so much the better.

  I finished showering and exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body, rummaging through the small amount of clothing I owned for the least sexually suggestive options available, as a feeling of heaviness settled in my chest. T-shirt. Jeans. Done.

  When I ventured forth, it was to the sound of Rans’ muffled voice filtering through to me from the kitchen. I paused, but didn’t hear any sign of a second person. Entering, I found him engaged in a phone conversation, and my excitement surged. He lifted a finger to forestall anything I might have been about to say, and pointed at the phone, mouthing, Albigard.

  EIGHT

  I BIT MY LIP and perched on a chair, waiting. Rans’ end of the conversation was unenlightening, and I chafed at not knowing what was being said. Finally, he ended the call and looked over at me.

  “Well? What did he say?” I asked impatiently.

  Rans turned to face me. “He was able to confirm that a high-level prisoner was transported to Dhuinne from this area. No details, but it seems fairly clear that it was your father.”

  My heart rate sped up. “We have to go after him,” I said. “We have to sneak in somehow and—”

  “Zorah,” he interrupted, “One does not sneak into Dhuinne.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “There must be some way to get in!”

  Rans sighed. “I told you that the entrance to the Fae realm lies inside a burial mound in County Meath, in Ireland. Perhaps I didn’t make it clear that the entrance on the Hill of Tara is the only entrance. To say that it’s well-guarded is putting it mildly.”

  I set my jaw and rose, pacing as I thought hard. “Then we’ll have to… I don’t know… make it so that they let us in voluntarily. Like, a Trojan Horse kind of thing, okay? I have to get in there, Rans. I can’t just leave Dad in their hands! Maybe if I pretended to be a prisoner—”

  Hands closed on my upper arms, stopping my progress. I looked up, surprised. I hadn’t even seen him move, I was so focused on brainstorming ways to get to my father.

  “Zorah. Stop. You’re not marching into the Fae realm like some kind of sacrificial offering.”

  I glared up at him.

  “I’ll speak with Nigellus,” Rans continued, unperturbed by my scowl. “Possibly some other people, as well. Perhaps one of them can arrange some sort of diplomatic exchange with the Fae Court… some way to allow you contact with your father, and maybe get you off their hit list at the same time.”

  My lips were pressed together in a thin line. “And how likely is that?” I asked, my skepticism coming through clearly in my voice.

  He didn’t give ground, though. “I can’t know until I try, now can I?” he shot back, a hint of frustration visible on his face. “But I do know this—you are not walking into Dhuinne without a guarantee of safe passage from someone with the power to back it up.”

  “Yeah? How long is all this likely to take, assuming it can be done at all?” I ground out.

  “I’m not a fortune-teller, luv. Believe me, if I owned a functioning crystal ball, my life would be very different than what it is now.” The words were uncompromising. “I’ll call Nigellus next, and see what he has to say on the matter.”

  There was… something in his tone. Something that told me he didn’t think the diplomatic option would work, and that if it didn’t, he still wasn’t going to budge on trying to get me into Dhuinne either openly or clandestinely.

  My stomach churned, remembering what I’d said to him as I sat on the floor of my dad’s ruined condo, holding the torn quilt that had belonged to my mother.

  My only goal is to find my father. From this moment, that’s the one thing I care about. As long as it’s your goal, too, we’re good. If I get a hint that it’s not, then we have a serious problem.

  I didn’t want to end up in conflict with Rans. I really, really didn’t.

  “What if someone else went after Dad, instead of us?” I asked slowly. “Would Albigard do it? Could we… I don’t know… bribe him? Or offer to do something for him in return?”

  Rans’ expression hardened. “There are areas in which I trust Albigard, and areas in which I don’t. Sending him to deal with the Court face-to-face on your behalf falls firmly into the latter category.”

  I opened my mouth to say something angry—great, so you’re not willing to take me, but you won’t let someone else go either—but I stopped myself before the words could escape.

  “Fine,” I said. “Call Nigellus, then.”

  His expression was still set in a stony facade that covered a well of frustration. Rather than say anything, he thumbed through contacts and tapped one.

  “Nigellus?” he said after a few moments. “I need your input on something. There’s a bit of a… situation developing in Chicago.”

  I seethed quietly at having my determination to find and retrieve my father labeled a ‘situation,’ but I held my tongue as Rans concisely outlined what we’d discovered since arriving in the city.

  “If one wanted to attempt travel into Dhuinne under prearranged diplomatic immunity, where would one start?” The words were tight enough to imply that the last thing Rans
wanted was to get anyplace near Dhuinne, much less inside it.

  He paused to let the voice on the other end reply, and a tendon in his jaw tightened. “Yes, I know it’s bloody dangerous, Nigellus—I’m not mentally deficient!”

  Another silence as Nigellus spoke.

  “Bollocks. There must be someone who has a contact within the Court,” Rans said. “You can’t tell me no one has a backdoor line of communication at the ruling levels. If that were true, the damned treaty wouldn’t have held for a decade, much less for more than two hundred years!”

  The back and forth continued as I watched, chewing on a thumbnail. I couldn’t make out anything of Nigellus’ side, but Rans’ side of the conversation grew more heated until he finally snapped, “The fucking treaty is in danger of breaking now! Goddamnit, Nigellus—” He broke off, and took in a deep breath, bringing his voice under control. “Just… think about it overnight. Let me know if there’s anyone else who might have a different perspective on the matter.”

  Another pause, and Rans said, “Fine.” Then he hung up.

  I watched as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “He’ll consider the options, and maybe try to talk to some people,” he said, and I once again got that feeling of being managed.

  “Great,” I said flatly.

  “I’ll call a couple of other people I know,” he said, his reply equally toneless. “Why don’t you eat something and go get some rest. It’s been… a day. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Otherwise, we can take a fresh look at things in the morning.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I looked around the kitchen, my eyes falling on a fruit bowl. I grabbed a banana and an apple. “I guess I’m pretty tired after, well, everything.”

  It was hard, but I turned and walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance, returning to the room where I’d spent the previous night curled in Rans’ arms. After a moment’s thought, I gathered my things and moved them to another bedroom. It looked more lived-in, and I guessed it was Tom and Glynda’s. Which… yes, was kind of a creepy thing for me to do. But I knew if Rans came in later and lay down next to me in bed, my determination not to get closer to him would crumple like a wet dishrag.