Court of Frost and Embers (The Pair Bond Chronicles Book 1)

by Leeann M. Shane

  I nodded, recalling the beautiful red head who made lasagna. Which would coincidentally sound great on a resume.

  “Reowna was a human with blood that sang to Masters. She was the last human he killed. She’s the only human he ever wanted. He attacked her before he could stop himself, draining her beyond repair. He had no choice but to turn her to keep her. That’s usually how this situation goes. He didn’t know they were pair bonded until he took her life.”

  He finished, leaving that heavy, burden-filled batch of knowledge on my doorstep like I wasn’t completely and utterly losing my mind already.

  He frowned. “Is any of this making sense?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I didn’t take your life,” he said gruffly, losing his patience. “So, what does that leave us?”

  Why did it feel like he was trying to tell me something huge? Something my mind couldn’t fathom. “Pair bonded?” I asked, the confusion in my tone the same confusion I felt inside.

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes never having left mine. The tendons pulsing in his jaw relaxed. “We’re pair bonded.”

  Now he just looked relieved. As if I’d solved this impossible equation in his head, but it was still unsolved in mine. “What is a pair bond?”

  He rolled his eyes at the dreary sky. “I don’t know. I’ve never had one.” He looked away before looking back at me, expression frustrated. “Think soulmates.”

  Soulmates? “Did becoming a vampire fry your brain?”

  “Maybe,” he grunted, putting his hands in his pockets. They were still fists. “Masters isn’t sure what happens when one-half of the pair bond remains human. None of them have ever survived, that he knows of. He thinks that because I abstained, and never had human blood to begin with, I was able to control myself. Otherwise, we’d be having a much different conversation.”

  “Would that one make more sense by chance?”

  He glared. “You don’t have to believe me. I figured I’d let you know. That’s all.”

  “Know what exactly? That I’m some weird vampire soulmate and you could kill me at any time? That’s not exactly my idea of good conversation.”

  “What is?” he asked, tone deepening around the edges. His anger was growing.

  I shrugged. “Why are your eyes black and Masters’ eyes are purple?”

  He stared at me for what felt like a full minute. “Are you serious? You’d rather talk about my eyes? I just told you something that will change the trajectory of your life forever, and you’d rather talk about the color of my eyes?”

  I refused to back down, even if my cheeks burned. “I have my reasons. Answer the question, creep.”

  “Answer one of mine if I do?” he wagered, his position unmoving.

  I squirmed, blinked, breathed, and fidgeted, all while he stood completely motionless. It was disconcerting. He didn’t even blink. “Okay.”

  “The Parkes’ eyes are purple, because Masters is a mad scientist, who cultivated a synthetic form of blood that keeps us strong, satiated, and most of all, keeps humans safe. One of the side-effects is purple eyes. For now, at least. Maybe one day he’ll perfect it. My turn. Are you afraid of me?”

  I opened my mouth to ask a million questions, but he gave me a look, and I clamped my mouth shut. We had a deal. “I should be.”

  “You’re right, you should be. I know you’re afraid of Masters, he said as much. But are you afraid of me?”

  I got the distinct impression that my answer meant a lot to him. Maybe more to him than it would ever mean to me. So, I weighed it carefully. I felt it. I took it as seriously as he did. “No.” Even without proper evidence, I didn’t doubt my answer.

  “You should be,” he repeated, seemingly frustrated with the truth. “You should be terrified of me.”

  “Want me to run away screaming again? I can if you want.” I didn’t move.

  His glare, however, did. It deepened. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I know,” I exhaled. “I know this isn’t funny. But it’s also unbelievable. It’s insane. I can’t promise you that I’m absorbing any of this. It’s all just a nightmare. Can we start over? Maybe leave the soulmate talk for another time?” Like never.

  He shrugged after boring into my soul. The longer we locked eyes, the harder it was to breathe. My stomach felt like it was both too empty and too full at the same time.

  “Want to come in?” I offered, stepping back for him to enter.

  His gaze tightened on mine. “Never invite a vampire into your house again, Emmie. Tell me you understand that. We can’t enter unless you invite us inside, and once you do, it’s too late to rescind your invitation.”

  I stepped back further, startled by his angry outburst. It was the first time he’d said my name with concern lacing every syllable. The fact that he’d done so finally broke through the strange terror I felt. “That’s real? Vampires can’t come in unless I invite them?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re not bad.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “But your eyes are still black.”

  “Emmie.”

  There he went again. Saying my name in that too deep, too smooth voice of his. Like barbed wire sliding over silk; the sheer rough beauty of it stunned me momentarily. I swallowed hard. “Why is that true? Why can’t you enter a home unless you’re invited?”

  “I don’t know why. I’m new at this, too. All I know is what I’ve been told, and who’s to say any of it is true?” He looked at the sky, as the moon took its full position amongst the stars for the night.

  I was struck by how lost he was. He didn’t know anything, much the way I didn’t. But I still went upstairs in a human body with my life. He… couldn’t. “Well, why don’t we answer our questions together?” I suggested.

  He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. He simply stared at me. Long and hard and deep. I had no idea what he was thinking. But I wanted to know, despite the warning bells ringing in my brain. I wanted to understand him. Maybe things would make more sense to me if they made more sense to him.

  “I want you to come in.” I reached out tentatively and touched his arm through his sweatshirt.

  The moment I touched him, he stiffened. I saw the tendons in his jaw snap and crack, nearly bursting. I wrapped my fingers delicately around his forearm. My fingers barely made it half-way around. He felt hard and muscular, and the cold seeping through his sweatshirt made me shiver.

  “You’re so warm.” He studied my hand on his arm. “It’s like there’s fire coming out of your hand.”

  “That’s weird. You’re so cold. It’s like ice is coming off your skin.”

  He pulled his fist out of his pocket and turned his arm, holding his large pale hand out to me. Without warning, he took hold of my hand, encapsulating it in his grip. Absolute cold emanated from his skin. It shivered down my arm and it made its way within my chest, leaving frost behind where my heart beat hardest.

  His hand was so snowy pale, it almost looked unreal. Mine wasn’t nearly as pale, but it was blemished. A scar on the back of mine, unpainted nails, and a flush to my skin. His hand was large, flawless, and the strength within it radiated out of it like winter.

  When I glanced at his face, his eyes were closed. His mouth was slightly ajar. The tiny sliver left open showed two sharp canines.

  “This is why you must stay human,” he murmured, tightening his grip on my hand. “For this. For your fire. Your life is the heat coming off your skin. It’s like touching the sun. I didn’t think I’d get to feel the sun again.”

  When he opened his eyes, I shrunk back. Undiluted hunger and torture burned in their dark depths.

  His chest moved.

  A breath escaped his lips.

  He pulled in a lungful of air.

  Horror and hunger distorted his features.

  “Run,” he whispered, pushing me back in the house and pulling my door closed so quickly, I didn’t
even have time to register what had happened until it was over.

  I let out a startled breath and ran to the front window to peer out. He was gone.

  Five minutes later, Granny Londa came home.

  After a few minutes of conversation, most of which consisted of her being surprised I was still alive and even more surprised she hadn’t hit it big, I went upstairs and crawled into bed.

  Before I fell asleep, I pressed my hand to my face.

  It was still ice-cold.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was snowing when I woke up the next morning.

  It fell silently from the sky and blanketed the entire city of Port Inlet in a layer of fine, white powder. My breath fogged out in front of me as I stared out over the front yard in irritation before I left for school.

  I hadn’t slept well the night before. I was cold. No matter how many blankets I got out of the hall cupboard, how tightly I folded in on myself, or how many times I breathed into my hands, I couldn’t shake the chills.

  A sharp shiver broke through me, making my teeth knock together. I had a shirt and a hoodie on under my black raincoat. My hair was down, and I’d managed to find a black beanie in the hall closet when I was tugging out blankets.

  When the mist of my warm breath cleared, I spotted a figure waiting near the approaching street sign. His hands were in his pockets and his hood was up, but there was no denying who it was.

  When I got close enough to Maxell to see his face within his hood, I was also close enough to see that his eyes were different. A thin ring of deep violet wound around his pupil. That single ring of purple broke up the black. It dulled the dangerous hunger exuding from him. It didn’t take it away, but it made it easier to see the humanity in him.

  “You’re freezing,” he stated.

  The way he said it made me wonder if there was a reason. “I… can’t… get warm for some reason,” I managed to get out between my chattering teeth.

  He blinked slowly, in either disappointment or concern, I wasn’t sure. “You’re going to have to ditch today.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Masters can explain.”

  I froze. Figuratively. The last person I wanted to see was Masters. Every time I got a tiny bit comfortable, he showed up to show me how uncomfortable I actually was. “I’d rather you explain.”

  A tiny smile lingered on one corner of his mouth. “Masters isn’t the bad guy, Emmie. He could be, we all can, but he chooses not to.”

  He seemed different that morning. Less encumbered and more positive. Or at least less shadowy. I wondered if it had to do with the purple ring around his eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”

  He took two easy strides, heading toward the edge of the forest. “Nothing. Yet.”

  I glared at his back until he had disappeared from sight. I could still feel him. Like fear and familiarity warring in my mind—there was such unrest. I swallowed hard, contemplating my choices as fast and effectively as I could. A deep rush of cold washed over me, making my bones ache. If I wanted the cold to go away, my only choice was to follow Maxell.

  I sighed, walking through the fog of my own warm breath and into the forest. “Wait for me,” I called, not seeing him but sensing him. “Maxell?”

  Beyond the trees, I spotted something shiny and black. I came up on a small clearing I’d never seen before. I’d never cut east through this part of the forest. Leaning against a car as sleek and dangerous looking as he, was Maxell.

  “That’s the first time you’ve said my name out loud,” he mentioned, watching me carefully over the hood of his car.

  “I thought you didn’t have a name anymore?”

  A shadow traveled over his face. “Don’t say it again.” He swiftly got in the car.

  My lips clamped shut. I wasn’t sure whether I should be irritated with his comment or worried. I went with the latter. I was too cold to be angry. I touched my hand to the passenger door handle, and it gave way easily. I sat down tentatively inside and closed it after me. The interior of Maxell’s car was pure black leather. It had all the latest gadgets, and everything was lit up like an airplane controller. It smelled like him inside. I’d never truly gotten close enough to him to properly breathe in his scent before.

  It was concentrated in his car. Thick and pungent of him.

  I closed my eyes for a moment after he pulled away, taking a poorly kept road cut into the forest. I wasn’t sure it was a smell that had one name. There were parts to it, complexities that made my mouth water. Like unblemished metal mixed with fresh snow and dark chocolate littered with the most perfect hints of cinnamon. I’d never smelled anything so… mouthwatering before.

  “Why are you breathing so hard?” he asked.

  My eyes shot open. The forest was thick on either side of the road and he wasn’t going fast. Not as fast as a car like that would want him to go. I cut my eyes to his face. His picturesque face. In the car, he was easier to study. It was no problem to define the shadows caused by the sea of endless bone structure. The curve of softness in the plains of hardness. “What cologne is that?” I wanted to buy a million bottles and replace the oxygen in the air with the scent. So that every breath I ever took again would smell that good.

  He didn’t take his eyes off the road. The corner of his mouth nearest me lifted. “It isn’t cologne.”

  I leaned over and smelled his shoulder, ignoring how he stiffened. His scent punched me in the face. Literally punched me right in the face. I sat back, my eyes threatening to roll into the back of my head. “What is it, then? Body wash? Laundry soap?”

  “What does it smell like?” he wondered, his tone weirdly light. As if he enjoyed something about this conversation.

  I tried my best to describe it. But it was like describing faith or hope. There weren’t enough words and none that perfectly encapsulated what I tried to say. “Titanium, a snowstorm, the richest chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted, and warm spices, like the best parts of apple cider.”

  He drove with his right hand. The other was a fist on his thigh. “You’re descriptive.”

  I blushed, tearing my eyes off him. “You asked.”

  “It’s my scent,” he revealed. “Vampires are apex predators. Hunters. And humans are our food. You have instincts. They protect your mind, I guess, but they can’t protect your body. Or your blood,” he said darkly. “So even though someone is afraid, there are things about us that still draw our prey in. Our scent is one of those things.”

  The way he described vampires was so cold and animalistic. As if there was nothing else good about them. About himself. And even though my next question hurt, I asked it anyway, because I was human, and he wasn’t. “Have you… ever… killed anyone?”

  His jaw pressed together tightly. “No. I was lucky enough for Masters to find me before I did. But I would have.” He finally met my eyes. Even with the ring of purple breaking up the black, they were still hungry and dangerous. “You need to understand that. All I think about all day and all night is blood. Do you get that? Do you get who you’re in the car with?”

  “Stop it.”

  His fist tightened on the steering wheel. “That’s a no.”

  “How can I understand that? How can I understand any of this? I see it. I hear it. I take it all in—”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. I do. I take in as much as I can, but no matter how much I do, they’re all just words to me. Vampire, human, prey, blood—these are not words that describe my life. Give me a break. I’m trying to understand. And if you’re so dangerous, why am I here? Why invite me anywhere? Why talk to me? Why let me be the only human who knows you’re still alive?”

  His shoulders sagged. His fisted hands relaxed. His jaw released the tension pressing it together.

  He took a turn off, ending up on the same road Masters had taken the last time he drove me home. We came up on his house.

  It was a contemporary mansion dropped in the middle of the forest. It was glass, metal, and wood, all stack
ed on top of each other. Maxell pulled up out front.

  He cut the engine and then he looked at me. “I’m not alive anymore.”

  The way he said it made me remember how I cried when I found out what he was. Not because he was a vampire, but because I’d known in seconds that in order to be one, his life had to have ended. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t alive anymore. His eyes were open. He could still feel. He was very much alive. Only someone alive could make me wonder about my own life.

  “Don’t say that.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Oh, grow up, Emmie. I am not alive. I died. I am not living.” He grabbed my hand and shoved my fingers against his neck. “Do you feel that?”

  His touch brought forth ice and chills and the sweetest sensation of frost. It wasn’t unpleasant. The cold. It was almost so cold it made me aware of my own warmth. My own life. “You feel cold.”

  “No, not that. Do you feel my pulse?”

  I searched for it. He still kept grip of my hand but he loosened his so I could trail two fingers along his smooth neck to his jugular. “I don’t feel anything.”

  He pressed two of his fingers to my pulse. For some reason, I could hear it. So loud in my ear, like drumming. His eyes slid shut. “I feel yours. Because you’re still alive. You’re so warm, you’re burning me. You smell so rich of life, I could never put a word to your scent. Convincing yourself I’m alive will only further drive you away from your own humanity. Don’t do that for me.” His eyes opened, showing how haunted he was. “Let’s go inside. Your lips are turning purple.”

  I pulled the mirror down, touching the same fingers I’d sought his pulse with to my blue-tinged lips. My amber eyes were both bright and leery. My dark hair was crammed beneath my beanie. A pink flush burned in my cheeks. I looked the exact same as I always did. But looking into my eyes, I saw a strange difference. It was subtle. Almost unrecognizable if I hadn’t spent the last few months numb.

  My door opened. Maxell waited on the other side, his eyes finding mine. The last time I’d been there, I wasn’t conscious. I pictured Masters carrying my unconscious body inside and laying me down in his office. And then I remembered how Maxell left me there. When I asked him to save me.