Date: 2011-07-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Vampires; Paranormal Romance; Paranormal; Romance; Fiction; Young Adult
Description: If you had to become a monster to be with the man you loved, would you? Or is that a question you cannot answer? You see, for me the problem was never should I be reborn, but when. That and I knew the moment I saw Ben I would die. Let's be honest, rumors blood drinkers are real have had the world in a grip of terror for years, and I'd always known I was waiting for him. Despite a somewhat excruciating rebirth, and a … well, let’s call it a “disagreement” with the Lycanthropes, I am embracing my new world. I am excited even. But there are ... things about my kind I do not yet know. This frighte
Rights: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/

Die, My Love

Penelope Fletcher

Published: 2011
Tag(s): Fantasy Romance Vampire werewolf

Beautiful Damned

DIE, MY LOVE

Penelope Fletcher

Copyright © 2011 Penelope Fletcher

All rights reserved by the Author

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Penelope Fletcher

All characters and events in this novel are fictitious and resemblance to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No part of this novel may be reproduced, stored or transmitted without the prior permission in writing from the author.

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stream of con·scious·ness

1. The continuous flow of ideas, thoughts, reactions, and feelings to events forming the content of an individual's consciousness and perceived as a continuous flow;

2.  A literary technique that reveals the flow of thoughts and feelings of characters through passages of soliloquy.

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Chapter 1 He Is Unfamiliar

Everything I’ve been brought to believe battles an immediate and overwhelming need to speak to him.

The ten o’clock news and my mother want me to believe the man I’ve been dying to speak to for the last two nights would hurt me most grievously should I let myself be alone with him. But a small part of me whispers it is that which makes him special. The danger. Or the fear of the unknown.

Don’t talk to strangers? Am I an exception to that rule? He just cannot be that scary.

How calm he sits there; after watching Ms Hepburn try to commit suicide by inhaling exhaust pipe fumes.

She looks so pretty on the big screen. Doe eyes sparkling in her elfin face, and a sassy hairstyle I can only dream would make me look adorable instead of mannish. She is a traditional beauty that time cannot diminish.

That’s why I come here. Here, being this poky old cinema with dusty seats and carpet so worn you can see concrete underneath. I love old films. Monroe, Taylor, O’Hara, Garland. All of them lure me to this off the beaten track corner of London where they play late night re-runs of classics featuring these silver screen sirens.

See how enraptured he is?

Oh, I’ve already come to the insane conclusion that he is something …  else.

All the other women in the screening are ignoring him, almost as if he does not exist. Why they ignore him is confusing me. Intimidated? Hmmm. I’m intimidated too, but that does not stop me staring. I almost did. Stop, that is, when I realized he was not human on that first night when I noticed him. See how calmly I think this? I’ve a pretty good idea of what that elusive non-human “else” is too.

I cannot not say it out loud or even think it! I’m hesitant because I’ve never met a non-human before.

Where does it come from? This knowledge?

Common sense? That, I have in abundance. And let’s be honest, there is never smoke without fire, and there have been rumors blood drinkers are real for years. That and my friend Bethany is special. She knows things and holds to the belief I will not always be as I am. That I’m marked for something else … that a man will change me. Ominous, right? She can never explain more than that. It was frustrating as hell, because how did I know my future did not involve a repellent elephant man type mutation from that lover of mine? We (Bethany and I) had been smashed in some dive down in Soho when she saw this, but surely, that still counts as a prediction of my future? I mean, she has a gift. And look, her prediction is coming true.

I cannot tell you how relieved I was when I saw Him. It was like a light bulb went off and my body started counting down. It’s still counting, waiting.

Oh god. Am I getting ahead of myself?

No, I do not think so. Some call it love at first sight. I think it’s like that, only deeper, and more fundamental. Imprinting? Possibly, though I roll my eyes at myself when I think it.

Sitting in my bucket seat, popcorn on lap, and Pepsi in hand, I blush and bite my lip. I want him so badly I feel sick about it. Is this natural for a first love? Ah, I need to cross my legs… see what naughty thoughts can do to you?

He stiffens and ever so slowly turns around in his seat to stare straight at me.

Holy crap!

My hand spasms and the paper cup of Pepsi slips through my fingers. My heart jumps a little. There is sticky fizzy liquid running down my left leg, and ice crunching under my sneakers. It is all unexpected and it feels like I might be having a heart attack. No, wait … I’m over excited, that’s all.

His eyes!

A trick of the light? Am I hallucinating? It cannot be. See, the longer I focus the easier it is to see his eyes are a nice, normal, if somewhat glowing hazel. Riveting. Ah, are they supposed to look like a kaleidoscope of golden hues flashing at me? Is the strip of skin under his prominent brow and above his lofty cheekbones supposed to look highlighted with starlight? Probably not, but the effect is so beautiful, I’m deciding not to care. This has to be a joke. He is too gorgeous to endure. Rugged face impassive, the smooth planes of his cheeks are hollowed slightly, giving him a strong visage that is softened only by his lush, relaxed mouth; the Cupid’s bow sharply delineated. His nose is too straight, too perfect. I feel it needs me to march over and break it. His hair is a mass of dark waves shot with cobalt streaks. The front sweeps down to brush his blue-black eyebrows, and curls at the nape of his neck, slipping and sliding as he breathes. I gnash my teeth and my fingers twitch. I wish I were over there, twisting the strands between my fingertips.

A smile crooks the corners of his mouth as dimples flash at me.

Damn him.

He appears to have poured his long, rangy body into the bucket seat. He seems to be so languorous and comfortable. He sits with one leg crossed over the other in a male fashion. He’s wearing boots, scuffed brown boots. I can’t see what the rest of his body is like; his trench coat is black and conceals him. I imagine a hard body, slender, yet sturdy.

Lee, you really need to stop staring. Seriously, look away. Be bashful and shy, stop being sucked in, look away.

Oh, but he is finally looking at me.

It’s only taken two nights of ceaseless and intense mental concentration to get him to notice me. Should I simply go up to him and tap his shoulder? Try my luck? Goodness no! Who do I think I am? Audrey? Marilyn? I’m a thirteen stone, five foot two woman with overly thick brown hair, olive skin, and a pug nose. On my best day, I’m cute. On my worst, short and fat.

Good god, listen to how maudlin and depressed I sound. Finally, I have eye contact with Him, and I sit bitching about how plain I am. Thank you for that, mother! Being easy on the eye would make this odd stare down easier to stomach, just saying.

Well, plain I may be, but yoga for the last five years has left my body bendy as plasticine. Okay, so now I’m trying to convince myself I’m worth knowing? Sadly, yeah, I can safely say I’m not much to look at if you glance at me. Ah, but take another look and you will notice how lovely my smile is. How calming yet sparkly my eyes are. How I simply radiate positive energy, and light, and goodness from just being. How lush my curves are from my small waist, rounded hips, and full breasts… .

Wait. Back the hell up. Where was my head just then? I’ve already said I’m plain yet all of a sudden I think I’m The Shit? I’m definitely not myself tonight, my thoughts just took an uncharacteristic turn to vanity.

He stiffens again and his expression becomes incredulous. His eyes narrow as he leans forward like he is about to crawl over the tops of the chairs and come get me.

Oops. Have I been staring this whole time? Oh, was that weird change of opinion about my body Him? Did he mind melt (meld?) me or something? Well, ha, it did not work. My insecurities are stronger than your praise!

Lee, you should probably say something so you don’t look completely insane. You have practically stalked the man these past two nights. No? You’re saying that was not insanity but merely curiosity? Whatever.

Okay deep breath here I go…

My heart pounds and I cannot articulate more than a rush of breath that carries a high-pitched squeak.

Damn.

That did not come out right.

With the smallest of nods, he turns back around and stares at the screen again. There is a whisper accompanying this nod. A firm brush against the side of my head where my ear would be if it were turned inside out.

Did somebody whisper something? I look left then right. Uh oh. I think I’m hearing voices now. Not, I am hearing voices I think I’m hearing voices. Okay not voices, just a voice. Is thinking you heard it better or worse than knowing you heard it? Does the distinction matter?

Lee, couple these voices with your stalking and odd thought patterns and you may have real mental problems that need professional help from a kind doctor.

He stands and makes his way to the exit aisle. With a confident, gliding gait, he walks down the steep stairway and pushes through the fire escape at the bottom, but not before his gaze collides with mine one more time.

Again! Glowing eyes and a whisper of something unintelligible buzzing in my ears. It’s like he leans over me, from all the way down there, and murmurs in my ear something seductive and thrilling.

Hell.

I’m going to follow him; I’ll get help tomorrow. Maybe.

I am out of my seat, popcorn tipping over to spill across the patterned royal blue floor that matches the seats and walls exactly (and often gives you that strange I-am-walking–sideways-up-the-wall feeling). I snatch up my sweatshirt and half pull it on; leaving one arm free to sling my messenger bag over my shoulder.

Move it, Lee! No, mind that woman’s legs as you sprint down the aisle. Slow down! Don’t trip. To fall down these stairs will hurt. Seriously, there is nothing to break the fall but your face.

The fire exit clunks closed.

Wait for me!

I dash down the steps making much more noise than he did considering the glares from the late night moviegoers. Sorry, Sorry! I shoulder the door open and skid to a halt out in a florescent hallway. The double doors at the end of said hallway close, but not before I see the heel of his foot disappear.

Gotcha.

Not wanting to run, but not wanting to move so slow I lose him, I do an odd skipping walk until I reach the doors. I pull them open and propel myself forward with fierce determination. Stumbling out into a dirty alleyway, I slam into a solid wall of chest. The breath whooshes from my lungs, my feet slip on the slick cobblestones, and I’m falling.

Ah, this is going to hurt … oh!

Hands shoot out and clasp my shoulders to steady me.

Nice one, Lee! Tripping over your own feet and falling on your ass is a great way to say hello and introduce yourself.

Okay, I’m flustered, but I’m holding it together. I am totally Zen. Right. Now that I’m sure my two feet are planted firmly, I look up with a brilliant smile to thank him. The words die on my lips, my face twists in confusion, and I turn to peer down the alleyway.

What the hell? Nobody is there. Just an overflowing dustbin, a nasty looking rat, and a random newspaper sheet pushed by the wind into an oily puddle.

Um, hello?

Okay….

Completely discomforted, I fix my sweatshirt and bag properly. I look up and still no one is there. What? Was I expecting him to rematerialise and yell, “Boo!”?

I start walking until I reach the main road. Where am I heading…? The tube station … right.

You are going home, Lee.

I start down the road and find myself staring at every male face that walks by, peering up into the disinterested and scowling faces, all up in their space. I mean … people don’t disappear into thin air. He had to have, what, run away super fast?

I swipe my Oyster card, dash through the slicing grey barriers of doom, and allow myself to get sucked into the stream of people tramping down the muddy stairs. Deeper underground, I stand on the escalator rather than walk, using the time to scowl some more. I stumble at the bottom, not paying attention, and quickly find myself the recipient of muttered curses and annoyed glares for holding everybody up.

Um, sorry?

I duck my head, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt up, and tuck my fists into my pockets. Wait. Something shiny glinted at the corner of my eye…. I bring my wrist up to my face again and stop dead in the subway. Someone bashes into me from behind, shunting me a full step forward, and I jar my ankle. Hey! Daydreaming over here! Though I’m the one hurt, I mumble an apology at the mean looking drunk and take a step to the left to lean on the dusty curved wall.

Have I cracked? Has my mind finally bent and snapped from my abnormal behaviour these last few days?

I have a Sweetie bracelet from Links of London, and I love it. Bethany has one too but hers is so full of charms she makes music when she motions with her hands. Mine is plain. Ah, no, mine was plain. Now from it dangles a blood red rose.

What the hell? Where did this…?

I drop my hand and place it back into my pocket as if scared someone might see. A hysterical bubble of laughter chokes from my throat before I manage to cut it off and a well-dressed couple passing by takes a wider birth. Eyeing me with distrust, the woman clutches tighter onto her partner’s arm. Jeez. I’m wearing a hoodie, lady. Don’t get so bent out of shape.

The wind picks up in the subway and the screeching sound of the train arriving snaps me out of my goofy stare into the middle distance. I make my way to the platform as the train thunders in, and wait patiently for it to creak to a stop. The doors peel open. My head is elsewhere so the high-pitched beeping does not trigger the usual step-to-the-corner-of-the-door logic in my mind so people can get off. The result is I’m barged left right and centre by an ambush of late night partygoers.

Hey, that was my foot!

I make it onto the train as the door slides closed, and wrap my hand around the yellow pole overhead to cling on for dear life as the train starts up, having to go up on my tiptoes I’m so short.

Time becomes a blur. One stop, two. The whole journey, all I think about is His face and how he managed to get his gift onto my wrist without me feeling it. It obviously happened when I slipped and he caught me, but gosh, he’s slick. I stare at it, this pretty charm, and it mesmerizes me, swinging back and forth gently.

“This is Snaresbrook.” My head snaps up at the monotone female voice. “This train is the service to … Epping. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.”

The beeping signals the doors closing and I jump onto the open-air platform. Oh look, a tree. Sigh. I do like coming home. London is great and all, but so very little of it is green. I make quick work of the walk home; fat raindrops are starting to fall and no doubt it’s only a matter of time before the sky is throwing buckets of water in my face.

Home is a purpose built block of red brick studios, with a bottle green entrance door and manicured gardens.

It’s okay, isn’t it? I’ve no reason to get anywhere bigger. More wall space would be nice to hang my work, I guess. Ugh, I would have to get a steady job and shit; a nine to five at a desk with a potted plant and sturdy desktop PC. Sensibly, I cannot get somewhere more expensive when my earnings fluctuate month to month. Actually, I had better check in with the gallery. Last month my paintings sold well, the beginning of this month, not so much.

Chapter 2 You Do Realize You Are His Prey?

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I kick the door to my flat closed with the side of my foot. Throwing my bag onto the couch, ignoring the inane items that scatter across the floor, I toe off my sneakers and pull my scrunchie out. Trawling my hands through my hair and sighing in relief, I stand in my kitchen come dining room come utility room, and flick the switch on the kettle. Behind me is the living room.

A teacup, tea bag, three sugars, and some boiling water make me feel better. The ritual of it is mindless. I feel incredibly witch like as I stir this beloved concoction and it does that cool thing where the liquid is turning so fast it creates a maelstrom in a cup. I let go of the spoon and watch it spin around until I’m staring at it thinking the force of momentum has died so why is it still spinning?

This is creepy. “Stop it!” The teaspoon clinks to the side of the cup and rests there innocently. I’ve too much to deal with so I shrug it off. Just a spoon, right? There, see how much calmer I feel?

Ah, good idea, Lee. Ignorance is bliss.

My nose heats from the whorls of steam rising from the milky liquid as I relive my encounter for the millionth time. I stare at the impressionistic painting I did two nights ago, a representation of the fallen angel who looked at me, and gave me jewellery.

My brush strokes have never looked finer than they do depicting me standing over him, my hands over his heart. He stares up at me with tenderness in his expression, and I gaze down with affection in mine.

God.

I suck in a breath, bringing my wrist up to eyelevel to check the charm is still there. My heart dances a jig. Oh boy. I am female, does he not understand what this means to me? His gift is symbolic and it’s shiny!

Jesus, Lee, get your head out your ass and do something.

Picking up my home phone, I dial Bethany and get her bubbly voicemail. Oh for god’s sake. Okay, chill out. If you can’t bitch with your BFF, plan B is a scalding hot shower.

Tea set aside, I unbutton my shirt and roll my head around on my shoulders. An hour of yoga will go a long way too; my shoulders ache from being so tense. Passing the sideboard, I plug my iPhone into a speaker dock and hit play.

Stripping off, the clothes go on the floor to be dealt with later. Naked, I pad across my cream carpet, singing along with Lykke Li, and refuse to think about You Know Who as it would spoil this equilibrium I’ve forcibly pulled myself into.

“Ouch!” Shit. I bend over and rub my foot. I really need to move that coffee table. That’s the fourth time this week I’ve stubbed my baby toe. Next time it might rip off. Ugh, imagining that makes my tummy feel funny.

Down the hallway, I pass my bedroom and pause.

Back it up, Lee.

I roll back onto the heel of my foot and peek into the darkened room. I thought I saw a shadow twitch. No, the room is empty, and I shrug.

In my tiny bathroom – white and blue tile, bathless, and warmed by the towel radiator – I turn the shower on and sort my teeth out.

The glass surface of the cabinet above the sink fogs up, and as one hand does the rhythmic circular motion so my toothbrush can do its job, I draw love hearts into the steam; going all dreamy eyed and mushy as He floats into my mind’s eye again. The love hearts melt after a while, the water shifting from vapour to liquid and running down the glass. The hearts look deformed and evil now.

Is that supposed to be ironic or predictive or something?

Go away common sense, you don’t live here anymore, hadn’t you heard?

I frown, spit, and clean out the ceramic bowl by giving it a quick gush of water from the tap. No, stupid! Now you have to wait for the shower to flash to cold then heat back up again. Ah well. I wait and watch myself in the mirror.

My hair reaches the base of my neck, curving slightly into a rather charming bob. I hope. It’s streaked with shimmering shades of bronze; which I guess makes it more appealing. Totally natural too, and soft, even if it tangles a lot. I lean closer to the mirror and look down, my eyebrows lifting appreciatively. My boobs are good: not exactly small. I can’t apply for the Guinness Book of Records or anything, but a man can grab ‘em and have some left over to deal with. My stomach is not flat. God knows I’ve tried to get it washboard, but my physiology was designed padded not iron railed. Who said size zero was ideal anyway? My stomach is pudgy above and below my bellybutton. I suck it in and turn to the side. Better. I exhale and the lines get wavy again. My butt is all right: bouncy and round. My legs are solid; they can bear my weight and look mighty fine in jeans. My shoulders and hips are broad but they even each other out nicely. I have what is called a homely figure … or is it childbearing? I have a pale splotch on my jaw, which my mother says is a birthmark. It’s not scary or anything, but … distracting. It takes away from my features; which are plain, but flow nicely and will age well. I’ll not get all jowly and wrinkly, I do not think. Ah, whatever. I’m no supermodel, but I’m okay with my reflection.

I open the cloudy shower cubicle and stick my hand in bravely. The water is just right. Oooh. I lather up with some soap on my sponge and give myself a good scrub. I work up a sweat, which makes me laugh.

I’m naked and immersed in steam; it’s not the moment I expect my senses to tingle. So why are they?

I place my palms on the wall in front of me to watch as the hairs on my arms rise. I consider what to do about the presence I’m feeling behind me. Run? Okay, where to, the other cubicle wall? Turn around and attack? With what? My tiny fists of fury? Logically, my only weapons are soap and a wet sponge. I guess soap in the eye stings quite bad….

Well, standing all sudsy doing nothing is not going to get you anywhere anytime soon is it, Lee?

Sucking it up I rinse off, turn, and open my eyes. The adrenaline makes me feel each eyelash unpeel as my wet lids blink open. Water runs into my mouth and off my chin. I rub my lips together liking the slippery feel.

I am not alone.

Panic and disbelief want to render me hysterical, but my emotional palate will not quite get there. I am too excited, thrilled, and relieved, to be perfectly honest. It was not my imagination.

He stands on the other side of the room frowning at me.

Huh. Why the frown? What did I do? Um, but wait. This is my house, my bathroom. I’m Queen here, so why do I think I’ve done something wrong? I need my head checked. Such a low level of self-esteem cannot be healthy.

He eyes me contemplatively then walks forward until he stands like a stone gargoyle outside the glass partition.

My heart kicks too hard before plummeting to a crazy slow thump. I wait, all too ready to clasp my hands over my mouth, but no scream is building in my chest. A silent scream? No … still nothing. Under the spray of water, a question is poised on my lips but can I bring myself to voice it? Oh, I really need to do something about my loss of words when he is around.

My misanthrope gargoyle comes to life and opens the glass. Cool air rushes in and my skin goose pimples. The hairs on the back of my neck mimic those on my arms, and I must look like a porcupine to what must be his finer eyesight. He steps into the shower cubicle and I step back to give him room.

Anytime now, Lee. That scream needs to happen right now.

He slides the door closed and takes another step. I see how confused he is and this makes me nervous. If he’s confused, what the hell am I supposed to be? Petrified? Befuddled? I take another unsure step back and struggle not to smile. Smile? What on earth? I jolt when the curve of my butt meets ceramic tile and I slap a palm on his chest. Halt, darkling prince. The warm water pours over him, drenching his heavy dark hair. He sighs and turns his face up into the spray. This does things … uncomfortable and hot things to my insides.

This feels …wrong? Christ no, it feels too right. I will survive this.

My fingers curl into his shirt, now wet and clinging to his body in saturated crinkles of fabric. I’m feeling awfully possessive right about now. I let my hands slide down, inside his trench coat, and tug the hem out of his soaking jeans. He stills and his head gradually tilts down so he can stare at me questioningly. I press my fingers into the skin of his waist, playful, but stare back stoically. I can send mixed signals too. Bending to rest his forehead to mine, his dark eyes remain open and aware, wary of me.

I take a deep breath in. I’m trapped. I can’t get out and I’m not afraid to say I don’t want to. His arms bracket me, our bodies are now flush, and I like it, being surrounded. The length of him is firm, deliciously weighty, but so cold. I shiver. Wrapping my arms around him fully, I rub his upper back in small circles, and each muscle I caress is tight with tension. My fingers rhythmically slither down with the water and back up again. I soothe and comfort until he relaxes, and his skin warms under my palms as we stand in the plumes of steam. We are both so still. Am I a gargoyle now too? His flesh soaks up the heat until it becomes comfortable to hold him; so I do, tighter, snuggling my entire body close. This movement breaks the trance and he shudders, grazing his lips across my temple.

Again, a whisper across my ears; something I want to hear, but am unable to. He should touch me, I think desperately.

Look! He is motionless, as if he heard your silent plea.

Can he hear inside my head? Wait, after everything, this surprises me?

He eases away and regards my face for a beat; then longer as if surprised one is not long enough to reach the answer he needs. Never have I seen such ancient wisdom in the gaze of one so young. Yes, in his gaze, not his eyes. Those orbs are unfathomable and too dark to decipher. His gaze holds his knowledge; and it’s heavy, a manifestation of the power he wields.

He reaches around me to turn the shower off. The drain gurgles and I wiggle my toes in the last of the bubbly foam. Water drips off my nose and dribbles down the curve of my spine in a lingering tickle. He brushes a lock of hair off my face and curls it around my ear. I don’t flinch, and why would I at such a tender show of his affection? I lean into him, and watch his pupils dilate, flux, then contract sharply into slits.

Another whisper, this time I hear it. ‘I am not like you.’ He is the whisper. His voice is like darkness, like silk. It’s rich, melted chocolate smoothly coating a coarse surface. I smile. Never have I heard its likeness.

My reply to his concern of his dissimilarity is … so? He is not like me? Well, I had come to that conclusion the moment I saw him. I already know he is not human, remember? But I do need him to show me what he is exactly.

My arms are around him so it proves simple to ease my fingers past the waist of his jeans, and let the tips of my nails scrape across the bands of muscle they find. He growls. A low, deep rumble that passes from his chest to mine. My heart kicks and my nipples harden. If the threatening look that accompanied that growl was meant as a warning, it’s going unheeded. Why would I stop this sweet torture?

I kiss his neck and breathe in. He smells lovely – like saltwater and wildflowers. I press another kiss to his smooth jaw; oh, and I sigh, because it was better than the first. There is a crack and  the sound of glass splitting. Was that the ice around his heart? Unconcerned, I glance at his hands where they rest on the wall either side of my hips. Dagger-like fractures fan out in the blue ceramic tiles from where his fingers push. I quirk an eyebrow, dismiss the damage, and continue my tender assault. I kiss the soft plane of his cheek and skim another on the edge of his mouth.

‘A kiss is harmless…?’

Was that thought mine? It was so faint I couldn’t decide if it had tumbled from my consciousness or his. No, not mine, because it had been a question. I’m certain about what I’m going to do. I’m going to kiss his mouth, and discover if it’s as lush as it looks. Then glide the tip of my tongue against his, taking more if he responds. It damn well will not be harmless. In fact he may fill my world up and I may destroy he balance of his.

I move to claim his lips, but he turns his head, jaw clenching. Tisk! This does not faze me, darling; I’m a woman on a mission. I firmly grab his head, threading my fingers into his dark hair, and the move is a momentary distraction that makes me pause. His wet locks are plush, thick. The glossy strands threaten to slip through my fingers like liquid. He jerks back to me in surprise and I flash a predatory smile. Rolling smoothly onto my toes, I push myself forward and slant my mouth over his. One of my thighs hooks low around his hip, and I dig my heel into the back of his knee. He does not stumble from the move, but he pushes back into me, pinning me against the wall so both my legs lift and lock around his waist.

He kisses me like he’s dying. He kisses me like he’s known me for an eternity. Heaven. I feel everything in this embrace. I absorb everything he is, and everything he feels, as his lips dance over mine, ardent, brutal. His hands still do not touch me, but he presses even closer. I feel like I will disappear, consumed, and I like the burn. There is nothing between us but raw emotion, and it’s painful, yet has the sweet sting of addiction. I inhale a gasp and my back arches when he kisses my throat. My eyelids flutter as my fists release their death grip on his hair to clasp his shoulders and dig in.

Sharp points graze my neck. It feels amazing, and I squirm.

Oh! Finally, he has touched me with one of his hands, fingers splayed on my stomach in a possessive clutch. Somehow this means more, this intimate touch. I feel it in the lines of his body. They have softened and it’s less like he ravishes me, and more like he loves me.

A deadlier pain accompanies a rhythmic tugging from deep within my chest. The coherent part of me is bowled over that the sensation is bold enough to make itself known over my pleasure. Head flung back, I groan at the sound of his lustful sucking. Why does that sound so good? I wiggle, bait on a hook, and everything is too much. My lips part to cry out, no, to insanely demand more, but he snarls. It’s a deranged hissing at the back of his throat and I go rigid from shock.

I have but a moment to think of what could be wrong before the pressure of his body holding me to the wall is abruptly gone. Cold air rushes over my shoulders and under my legs the exact moment a thunderous collision and tortured yell vibrate so loudly in my ears. I shriek. Forces of momentum shift from stagnant to dynamic too quickly and the pressure bottoms out. The cubicle becomes a vacuum a moment before the glass shatters and erupts like a volcano. Water explodes from the bottom of the shower like a tsunami. Water? Where did it–

My ass hits the floor, hard, and I sprawl out. My skin squeaks against the tiles, and I bash the back of my head so hard my skull vibrates like a tuning fork. Oh god, instant double vision and nausea. My nose twitches at an unexpected smell. Sniff. Is that smoke? Why can I smell smoke in a wet room? Are the air and water molecules rubbing together too fast or something? Wide-eyed, blinking away the second screen that has come over them, I shift and hear the tinkle of broken glass. I stare at it under my legs, confused as to why I lie on a bed of splinters. Gah! The four walls of the shower cubicle are obliterated. The high-pitched squeal making me wince increases sharply and my ears pop. I clutch my head to rub them violently.

The bathroom door hangs limp on its hinges, the wood ripped and torn in half. Solid wood does not bend that way. At least, it’s not supposed to. Shards have embedded in the back of the living room couch, which is turned over at a haphazard angle. Holy mother! A larger piece of the door sticks out of my flat screen on the far wall.

I scramble up, ignoring the glass shards that slither into the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. Shoving the destroyed door out of my way, I dash into the hallway still dripping wet. My front door swings open. At least he’s not smashed that one to pieces. Dark, oddly spaced imprints of his wet shoes are left on the cream carpet and this makes me absurdly angry. Marching down the hallway, I slam the door closed and my chest heaves in furious undulations. Damn the man to hell! Huffing my disbelief, I press my back into the wood and push a shaking hand through my hair.

Please, god, don’t let that ruckus have woken Ms Chang, my neighbour.

Something bright and primitive in the disparity of its surroundings catches my eye. In fact, I’m surprised I focus on anything at all so profound is my distress. I stare at the bloody handprint on the wall, half smudged as if the person had left it by accident rushing to get away.

Slowly, with trepidation, I drop my chin to my chest. The damp skin on my breast and stomach are covered in red. There, just on the swell, twin punctures weep blood. My hands shake as I slide a palm over the vivid colour to see if it’s real. There is so much and it’s everywhere. I’m not dripping water, but my own blood.

Lee, are you going to pass out now?

I feel woozy, and I reach out to hold onto something, but end up swiping the air in panic. The world cants to a funny angle and I collapse. Trying valiantly to keep it together, I breathe in deeply, and release the breath with my lips puckered into a circle, my cheeks puffing out. I repeat the calming process even as bile floods my mouth. My already unhappy ears buzz, my vision tunnels, and the back of my nose blocks and burns. I’m making odd choking noises because of this ghastly sensory complaint.

Ugh, I don’t like this cotton-wool-in-the-brain feeling. I fight the queasiness and fright until my breaths are no longer panicked gasps.

When I finally regulate my breathing, I peel back the mental band-aid on what’s causing my distress. Oh, the sickest thing? I’m not frightened by what happened between us. Seeing the punctures on my skin impressed the reality of the danger I insist on flirting with, and my body – biologically hardwired with this debilitating reaction – started to shut down, but the emotional stress originates from the knowledge I don’t care what he is. In the prism that is my emotional range, there is no anxiety over what he is.

He has not hurt me, and now, I truly believe he couldn’t hurt me because he feels as deeply for me as I do him. If not why did he come here tonight?

To kill you Lee!

Oh, yes, well in retrospect I think that is the truth. He came to end me.

Then why am I still breathing, thinking, and yearning for him? Was that why he left: my need for him? Did I scare the monster? He had shot away like a bullet considering the destruction he’d left behind. I wish he had stayed to see how I feel about it all. All I remember is intense, overwhelmingly pleasurable sensations radiating from the bite, shimmying down my torso straight to my … ahem. His feeding created small fireworks behind my eyelids, sparks of electricity across my skin. Is that what his bite does? My eyes tear up, and I blink, refusing to cry. Had he continued suckling me I would have come apart in his arms, screamed in bliss. Yes, possibly that is hardwired into me too, a response of pleasure in the face of pain.

I am not like you.

No, darling, you sure as hell are not like me. Nobody has ever made me feel the way you have. Surely, you should have felt this or gleaned this from my thoughts.

Oh, Lee, how deep into the rabbit hole you have fallen. You’re worse than Alice.

Honestly, with a look, he got me hot, and when he had touched me…. I press the back of my hand to my forehead, and flush. After the first time I saw him I’d continued to go back to the cinema to watch him pretend to watch the films. I know he wanted to come and talk to me, but I was unsure why he never did. Wishful thinking on my part? No, he wanted to … I think. So with me being, well me, I had persisted: stubborn and unable to give up. He would at least look directly at me rather than from the corner of his eye as he ran away before I could catch up to him. He had left before the end credits tonight, and I thought I finally had a chance to talk to him. Yeah, he evaded me, but my plan had been to simply try again tomorrow night. Hey, I figured I had all the time in the world, but this time he’d followed me home. Somehow he’d managed to enter my house. He’d watched me in the shower. He liked to watch. Oh, damn. I press my legs together and whimper, cupping a hand over my mouth so I do not have to hear myself react as well as feel it.

If anyone else pulled that shit I would’ve screamed blue murder. I would have gone at them with my nails and not stopped until they were a bloody mess at my feet. Then I would have gotten the cricket bat hidden under my bed and spent a few minutes feeling guilty about not feeling guilt as I beat the crap out of the intruder whilst waiting for the police to arrive. But Him? He is allowed to watch me and do anything to me his dark mind can envision, always will be.

Ugh, but is that not wrong, Lee? Twisted?

What happens with this being will mean the end of my life, this much is clear, so why does excitement bubble my blood and make my heart roll over in my chest? Life? For him, I will risk it all if he takes me. What is my alternative? To sit and wait for a fairy tale Prince Charming who will never come? Who will choose the gorgeous blonde-haired woman with the great body, the perfect smile, and well-ordered intelligent inner thought process? While I, the dark haired and murky minded thing that I am, wait in the shadowed corner with my black rose, yearning for the Darkling Prince who came for me, and who I rejected? No! I am his. Utterly his. And the next time I will not let him get away until he commits to what we could share. I trust him. It’s past time he trusted me.

Up I get and head for my bedroom. I belly flop onto the bed and lie there suffocating. Should I clean up? Wipe away the blood? I groan and roll from the centre of the bed to the edge so I can push under the duvet and tuck myself under it. I scrunch my legs up and try to ignore the throbbing between them. Maybe I should watch something to calm me down? Oh right, my television is totalled.

I shift onto my back and kick the covers off, now unbearably hot. The movement gets me tangled up and I struggle to get free. I’m huffing by the time I’m done, and my leg is for some reason still tangled. I slip a hand down my heated skin and touch myself. This will help. I need sleep, and after I release I will drift off into dreamland.

It’s morning and … no it’s not it is early afternoon. I pretty much fall out of bed, lethargic and numb faced. Pushing the flat of my palm to the hot side of my temple, I feel the lumpy edges of sheet marks. Perfect. It takes a full minute to understand why I’m not in my Wonder Woman pyjamas, and why my chest is covered in dry blood.

Swaying sleepily into the sitting room, I stare at the busted television and overturned couch. I’m feeling somewhat sullen now. On the other hand, maybe disgruntled? I take in the broken bathroom door and the shattered shower cubicle beyond. I’ve moved onto nonplussed. Oh yeah! Right. Life changing experience, expensive damage, and the realization I’m a bigger freak than all freaks before me. It’s all coming back to me now in oversaturated Technicolor.

I go over to the painting in the corner and glare at it for a few moments. Picking up my colour palette, I grab colours number eight, twelve, and three. Squeezing the oils onto my palette, I pick up a flat brush and dunk it in the cloudy, room temperature water to soften the bristles. I proceed to blend the oils and apply to the canvass. My hand flies; the colour dabs, swipes, and splashes onto the artwork I had amorously created when my mind was bent with longing. I wipe the back of my hand on my cheek, and feel an oil smear decorate my cheekbone, and coat a few strands of my hair. I’m used to it so I ignore it. Paint crusts my fingertips and drips onto the floor to get squished between my toes. My fingers cramp and burn, but I push on, pressing my lips together until they deaden.

Why so worked up Lee? Why is your chest heaving? Listen to you heart fly; it beats fast like a hummingbirds wings. Does the harsh light of day make everything sick and reveal how depraved what you crave truly is?

My body shakes and my eyes tear. I lift the brush from the canvas and clutch it to my chest, swinging my head back and forth.

I–I think I am … afraid.

No! Quit lying to yourself. It’s not that you are upset or scared, because if you were you would be throwing your arms around the holy church and calling a Priest. Look deeper, hmm? You still want him so badly you cannot think straight. That is your choice, so embrace the damnation. You want him to claim you!

I throw my brush down and stagger back. I push hair off my face and let my palms rest on my hot cheeks. The picture is transformed. My hands still cover his heart, but they are blackened with death. He stares up at me, but now his lips are claret and drip blood. His eyes are bright gold and slitted. His beauty is seraphic and terrifying. I look down upon him with love in my expression… and my eyes! My eyes, they … they look like his!

What are you doing, Lee? Is this what you really want? You see what he is and what this will mean for your soul! Why are you not running from it?

Turning from the art, I clasp my hands over my head. My eyes scrunch shut as I drown myself out and after a minute my mind is blessedly quiet.

Peace.

“Tidy up,” I command myself, and that is what I do.

I pull the chunk of wood from the couch and set it upright. I take down the television to stack it and the two pieces of wood by the front door. I sweep up the glass in the bathroom and wash down the spray of blood on the walls. I also hose myself down. I mop up and make a mental note to order a new shower cubicle, I’m pretty sure I can afford it. I’ll eat Pot Noodles for the rest of the month or something.

Finished cleaning, I sit on my couch and check the time on my iPhone. Four o’clock. I open up Safari and check the screening times for the movie tonight. Eleven forty-five. Okay. I drop the phone onto the seat beside me and draw my legs up under me, ankles crossed. Crossing my arms around them, I lean my chin on my knees.

Time to think, Lee.

Chapter 3 Reality Bites, Huh?

I’m back at the cinema in my usual seat after doing everything I usually do. I bought my popcorn and Pepsi and I’m sitting in the middle seat in the middle row. But He is not here and the black and white lion is roaring on the screen. Nothing. I scan the rows again as my breathing speeds up.

He is not going to show. Is he, Lee?

Damn the man. He is stubborn and stupid, and if he were here I would tell him so. My eyes close briefly as my grip on the paper snack bag tightens. He would not dare disappear forever…. would he? Suddenly, I’m not certain and everything collapses into a void. Is it possible he heard my thoughts earlier? That he was able to experience the mind numbing panic and fear that had overcome me whilst I painted his true likeness. Oh, how that must have burned him. To hear me terrify myself over what he is and what his affection means.

Yes, but think it through, Lee. If he did he would have also heard you condemn yourself, your very soul, to be with him.

So … then he is not here for another reason … a selfless one?

For the love of all that is holy, how could he consider doing this! I’ve no doubt that if he wants he can disappear for the rest of my life, vanish without a trace, and I will be left crazed with wanting and loneliness until the day it all gets too much and I fade away.

My iPhone buzzes against my hip. I crack an eyelid as Marilyn’s platinum curls bounce onto the screen. The phone taps a dance on my hip again. Aha. Maybe he has my number? With a shaking hand, I take out the phone and slide the screen lock with my thumb. The slick screen lights up my face. A text message from Bethany. It eases the disappointment of it not being … oh, I don’t know, an unknown number that would send me his voice?

Suitably pissed off, I ditch the snacks and leave the cinema, my eyes scanning every row as I go though I know it’s useless. If he’s here I would know it. Wouldn’t I? Well, when he came to my home I felt his presence, so it should be the same elsewhere.

Outside it’s all ozone, crowded cobbled walkways, and overfilled pubs with names like Drummonds and O’Neil’s.

I hail a black cab, one of the nice old ones that trundle, and slide in, mumbling the name of the nightclub Bethany instructs me to attend through the penny sized holes in the Plexiglas partition. The brash sounds of London Town are muted as I slide the door closed. It smells like stale coffee and vanilla air freshener. A nod of my cabbie’s purple turban, a click on the payment meter, and we are on our way.

My knees knock together as I fist my hands in my pockets, and stare at my boots, wanting to cry at how miserable I feel.

Wait, what was that Lee?

I turn in the faux leather seat to peer out the half-moon back window. My breath catches, my heart soars, and suddenly everything is okay again. That figure in the shadows is Him. A smile curves the corner of my mouth when said shadow darts from one corner of the street, past our cab, to wait in the corner at the end of the road. Joyous, I bite back a cry of happiness and settle back in my seat. This continues all the way to the club. He follows me, and I resist jumping out the door to throw myself at him.

We arrive. The cab chugs stationary as I launch myself out the door like a rocket and breathlessly ask, “Receipt for ten, please?” The meter shows four pounds eighty-five, but that is how happy I am. I pay the man, all smiles, and good humour now. I bob my head to the small picture of a chubby baby tucked into his sun visor wishing him and his family good health before trotting away.

At this point, I’m motivated to ignore the shadow at the end of the road. Not because I want to, but because I’m female, and I have to draw the line. I’m suddenly (and inexplicably) fuming walking from curb to club entrance. Possibly this anger is a delayed reaction from his inconsiderate behaviour earlier? Surely, he knew I would panic when he was not in his usual seat.

I take no notice of the line of half-dressed sparkly people waiting to get in, and beam at the suited bouncer, all dimples, and windswept hair. Returning my smile with a nod, he unhooks the velvet rope jerking his bald head for  me to enter. As I glide past he turns back round, his beefy chest puffing as he barks at the grumbling line to pipe down.

Inside, I’m a tad disorientated and wary. I’ve not been here before and I’m sort of trying to blend into the flow of the crowd but not quite managing it. Bethany and I often hook up like this. She texts me at the height of her boredom, unable to sleep, and since it’s past midnight she’s probably drowning her sorrows. I head to the far left hand side of the monochrome bar that takes up the entire back wall, descending one of the two curved staircases, watching each step with a hawk eye. I have a pedantic ‘thing’ about navigating stairs. I always imagine myself taking an epic tumble down them as I walk up or down a flight. Phew. I’ve reached the bottom of the staircase sans face plant. Cool.

This place is something else. It showcases trashy bohemian chic in what I suspect most British people expect the Moulin Rouge would’ve resembled. The walls are dark, (black?) and there is a lot of faux velvet, crimson drapes, and hoary fixtures. A glittery chandelier hangs low from the middle of the coffered ceiling, and at the back is a diminutive oval stage. Above, a gilded balcony winds its way around, so the kitschy pantomime chorus of cancan dancers above can coo to those down below.

Bubblegum pink hair bobbing in time to the off-kilter beat, Bethany spots me, and wiggles her slender fingers in a girly wave. I briefly rub my hand on her arm which sparkles with pixie dust, and settle into an empty stool beside her.

“Hey sweets,” I murmur in hello.

“What in god’s name are you wearing?” she asks.

Though my friend wears a hot pink sequined boob tube and leopard print jeans, I still look down at my plain black camisole and jeans, high-heeled boots, and Mac expecting something bizarre. I’d dressed to impress. I’d a thought earlier when I was getting ready that He would like this get up.

“I went to the cinema,” I offer by way of an explanation.

Groaning, she pauses, drink halfway to her pouted lips. “By yourself?”

“Yeah.”

She slams the glass down. “I can’t believe you still do that shit. Do you know how creepy and depressing that is? Going to the movies by yourself?”

I laugh. “Movies? When did you become American?”

“Fuck you.”

I shrug. “You already have.”

She rolls her eyes as her cheeks gain colour. “So I have.” Bethany puts her drink down and her voice drops a few octaves, laughingly, “And what fun I had whilst doing it.”

I chuckle uncontrollably… at so small a thing? No. Maybe it’s the fact I’ve realized why other men had held nothing more than a vague interest for me. “Oh, Beth!” I mock lament, both in reaction to her silliness and my own thoughts.

She abruptly stops laughing. “I swear to god, I would kill for your voice. Each time you speak it’s like being ear fucked.”

“Ear fucked,” I echo and wince. “No, thank you.”

She pulls a cigarette from her sparkly clutch followed closely by a rhinestone decorated Zippo lighter. I frown disapprovingly. When did she start that again? The barman raps his knuckles on the bar between us and points to the No Smoking sign. Beth pouts, but tucks the offending item behind her ear. How unladylike. How Bethany.

I look out into the crowd and freeze. What the…? Something potentially disturbing has caught my eye.

“I’ll have another,” Bethany orders since she has the barman’s prized attention, and stabs her finger to her empty margarita glass whilst shooting a questioning look at me.

“Gin and tonic,” I answer distractedly, my neck and torso stretching for a better look.

I could have sworn I saw man with a head of thick, dark hair and a black trench coat push a girl into the bathroom. Am I going crazy? He wouldn’t do that … he would not do that. And there is more than one man in the world with a black trench coat. It could be– Ouch! A sharp pain on my thigh reveals itself as Bethany’s inch long black nails digging in.

She peers at me then snorts, “You are going to fuck the next man who you make eye contact with.”

Breathing in deeply, I take another sip of my G&T, keeping my face expressionless when what I really want to do is piss myself laughing, or burst into tears. Neither is appropriate and the former would only encourage her whilst the latter would make her want to hurt somebody. “No, I’m not,” I say eventually.

“Why?” The word is thrown back at me with genuine puzzlement. I shoot her, my self-proclaimed pimp, a look over the rim of my glass. “Don’t you look at me like that, Lee. I am of the opinion you need a hard cock between your thighs before you turn twenty-five next week.” Bethany places a hand on her sparkling décolletage and her engagement ring nearly blinds me as it twinkles under the revolving lights overhead. “Besides, I feel this. It’s going to happen, get over it.”

I blink slowly. Okay, if Bethany feels something it happens. But still, her delivery has not improved at all in the years I’ve been getting her to practice. “Do you have any idea how perverse you are? How poisonous your mouth is.”

She’s not listening, but waving her hands in the air in an erratic fashion I’m sure she sees as persuasive or all knowing. “Your virginity is precious. And looking at it one way, it’s mine, but, looking at it another you still have it. And of the two of us, that makes me promiscuous. I kind of resent that.”

I eye her. “Seriously? My god, Beth, you were That Girl in high school who believed spunk was, “Good for eyes and skin,” weren’t you?”

“That hasn’t exactly been disproven now has it?” She bristles, and I know like the sky is blue that she really was That Girl, and I find that cute as hell. “It would make sense that something that helps make babies would be….” She trails off, and I have to admit I’m relieved, because nothing good could have come from her next words.

Ah, why is she drooling? Stroke?

I wave my hand in front of her face and that gets a reaction. She gathers herself and quirks an eyebrow. Intrigued as to what made her lose control over the deadliest muscle she possesses, I turn to where she stares.

A tall man stands at the top of the stairs, returning my look without blinking. Our gazes lock and lightning bolts ricochet between us. The moment is broken when a nondescript woman staggers past, with a dazed expression, rubbing her neck and shooting him an awed look.

My reaction is instant. My breath catches, like I suspect it will every time I see him after any length of time, and my heart thumps. I cross my legs at the pleasurable tingle spreading from the middle of my thighs, down the back of my legs, and into my calves.

Lee, you mess, look sharp girl.

Flushed, I continue to meet his gaze, and loudly say. “A hot guy who fucks sluts in nightclubs a companion for life does not make.” I know he can hear me, but as soon as I say those words, I look down at my lap, blushing hotter the longer I feel his assessing gaze on me. Yeah, it was childish, and out of character, but I was jealous … just … really teeth grindingly jealous.

Breathing in deep, I look back up, wanting to see him walk over.

He’s nice to look at. So nice it becomes a hardship when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. It’s like looking into the midday sun. He compels me to watch him move closer and demands my attention stay focused. He walks and people move without noticing he fills the space they vacated for no apparent reason. Looking at him objectively – rather than the demented considerations I had bestowed upon him since I had first laid eyes on him – I’ve decided he is not attractive in the traditional sense. By today’s standards, he is extraordinarily plain, but there is something sensual he omits.

Ah, yes, like a glowing orb of uranium. It’s intelligent to snuggle up to one of those, isn’t it, Lee?

He stops in front of me, just shy of touching. My mouth opens and air comes out.

Again? Use your big girl words, stupid!

No, I’ve got nothing. I turn my face toward Bethany, because my eyes refuse to leave him, and I’m mildly embarrassed how obviously he’s ensnared me and robbed my ability to vocalise actual, you know, words. Interesting. Bethany stares straight through him. She bobs to the beat of the music, and sips her wine. He can really get into people’s heads, can’t he?

I slip off the stool and onto my heels that make a strangely loud clack, clack when they hit the resin floor. I straighten and my chest brushes his. The brief contact is electric and too much too soon. I’m dizzy enough, thank you kindly. I lean my elbows on the bar behind me and shake my hair out, trying to think of something, anything, to ask that won’t scare him away. I don’t bother to yank the flimsy strap of my camisole back up over my shoulder; exposed since my coat hangs, leaving it bare. I’m too occupied with him to fuss with my clothes.

Questions, I’ve many, but none more urgent than knowing his name and knowing who he is. Oh, would he tell me that?

‘My name is Ben.’

My eyes fall from his, and I swallow a squeal at the tail end of the voice that booms in my mind. I nearly choke. Inhaling deeply, I hold that delicious excitement in my chest to calm the tremors of lust and victory coursing through my veins. I know his name, and it’s as simple and gorgeous as he is. Ben. My Ben. Now I know for sure he can see into my mind and hear my thoughts. Is listening to me like that immoral and rude? I want to think so. Hey! Maybe I did not want to know his name. Maybe I liked the anonymity. Did you think of that big shot?

He moves closer and his thighs press onto mine. His hand slides up my arm leaving a trail of goose bumps. He entwines his fingers in my camisole strap and slips the silk back into place on my shoulder. He follows the move through by sweeping the finger across my collarbone to rest at the base of my neck before sweeping up the middle of my throat and flicking off the end of my chin. This tips my head back and he holds me with those eyes, dark and bottomless.

My god, he could rob me blind with my eyes wide open. He is beautiful.

‘Yes, you did.’ The reply is a whisper and my knees knock together.

I slant a look at him from under my lashes and the corner of my mouth curves. His head lowers a fraction and our lips come closer. Oh my, is he going to… I have a flashback to our kiss in the shower and the walls quaking. My mind conjures images of us and a bed. “Show me,” I blurt. “I want to know what you are.”

What the hell is wrong with me? Can’t I enjoy a soul-shattering kiss? I’m frustrated now.

Um, Lee, you need to see what he is, and build trust … remember? You stand at the brink, at a precipice. You have to make a choice soon, and by god, you should make it educated. You should know exactly how damned you are before choosing to embrace it for an eternity. Is the loss of your immortal soul not worth being clear over? Is that not worth postponing a kiss that will shake the foundations of what you know and blow your brain out the side of your skull?

I guess….

Taking back that fraction of distance he’d closed between us, he watches me have this internal argument. Rather than seem perturbed, he looks charmed, and like a man who adores his love enough to see her idiosyncrasies as endearing rather than disturbing. Ben holds out his hand, and I clasp it without hesitation. His palm is cool, smooth. The tips of his fingers curl around mine and apply firm pressure.

He smiles and immediately my eyes seek his fangs. Most often, his mouth is closed, and I’ve yet to hear him speak to possibly catch a glimpse. My heart trips over. There! His pointed canines are flanked on both sides by two smaller teeth. How intriguing. I bring my other hand to clasp the side of his head, cupping his cheek. I guide his head down to meet mine half way, for privacy, and let my fingers stroke his skin. The stubble on his jaw pricks the pads of my fingers. Stubble? His hair can grow?

‘Does it bother you?’ he asks. The question has an undertone of humour. Hmm. Does the man I want to devote myself to flashing fang in the middle of a nightclub bother me? I nod. I do not think it’s safe for him to be so conspicuous. A brief pause from him then more humour, ‘Would you protect me from those who would harm me?’

Ugh. Yes! Again, there is no hesitation on my part when I think this, possibly a hint of impatience. Say whatever persuasion he works on those around us fails, and someone sees him for what he is, there would be pandemonium. I don’t like it when situations get out of control. I like order, for things to go my way, and right now, my way was for the world to continue to ignore us so I could remain in this whimsy bubble where it’s okay for me to be mindlessly attracted to this monster.

My fingertips move from his cheek to slide over his full bottom lip: firm, silken. I remember his mouth pressed to my own, urgently dragging over my skin. I have thought of nothing since. His lips part, eyes grow hungered as I push my finger in. The tip of his tongue strokes the pad of my forefinger as I let it drift up and skate over a fang. Oooh, a shiver races up my spine arching me into him when the point grazes my skin. He shudders too and nips the finger none too gently before I remove it from his mouth and clasp his chin.

Now Lee, remind him now before you forget.

“Show me,” I repeat and do not let my gaze waver from his. I see he accepts. My hand falls from his face to rest at my side, fingers twitching. I look over my shoulder to Bethany and my sombre face lightens. “I’ll be back in ten.”

She starts, as if she’d forgotten I was with her, and wiggles her finger at my half empty glass. “The same?”

“Please,” I reply, and manage to hold off the wobble in my voice for a second time.

With that, Ben walks and I follow in his slipstream, my hand in his. The crowd parts, but it’s not obvious; the floor does not divide into two crowds. People simply take a step to the left if they are in our direct path, or step backward when about to cross us, and then move forward again as if someone hit a rewind button.

We stop at the edge of the room by a booth of people, and Ben becomes still, as he so often does. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one pays us particular attention. People dance. Luminous glow sticks wave back and forth and sweaty hands punch the air. The music pulses; red and electric blue lights flicker and flash in violet streaks across the walls. The cancan girls above gyrate and preen, blowing kisses to those below. Black lights revolve highlighting spillages of body fluids on the floor and on people’s clothes. A girl walks under one and glares at me. I smirk, clearly she’d been up to no good judging by the florescent smear and spatter marks on her chin. The smoke from the machines coils around the ankles of booted, heeled, and sneaker clad feet. Sloshed, an Emo stumbles from the crowd, wife-beater bottle in hand, yelling something about defiling the next bitch that crosses his path. He projectile vomits into a bin before being tossed out the front door with his equally pissed mates.

Ben murmurs something and my attention reverts to what he is doing. The people in the booth freeze and put down their drinks. The whole thing is creepy and disturbing to watch if I’m perfectly honest with myself. Such an immediate and total loss of one’s will. They get up, glassy eyed, and leave. One by one, they pass me and melt into the swarm of bodies, effortlessly blending into the dance.

Okay then….

Using his grip on my hand to propel me forward, Ben inclines his head to the now vacant booth. It’s rounded, the sides so close together I have to twist my ample hips to make it through the gap. Inside, I’m cocooned by wall to ceiling black velvet. The seats are padded and deep, and a low glass table reaches my shins. The light in here is weak, a candle looks about to extinguish and it does, leaving a coil of wispy smoke.

Chapter 4 Lee Likes To Watch

The music is somewhat muted now. This booth is a cosset of heat, darkness, and the smell of sex.

Ben comes in behind me, and my body goes on high alert; fight or flight response, I think. What an odd time for it to kick in.

As if sensing my body’s preparation to do something silly, with a speed I cannot match, Ben twists me around by the shoulder, and has me on my back with my camisole pushed up under my breasts. I lift my head up, mouth forming an O. How impatient he is! My jean button is already unfastened. He growls and presses a kiss to my navel. Adrenaline pumps hard and fast now, but I’m going nowhere so I disregard the urge to run. Ben lies between my legs and urges them to hook around his waist. I think he likes that move more than I do. When his eyes lock on mine they widen in surprise at the cool, considering look I analyse him with, because I’ve figured out what he’s doing.

Oh, my darling, what were you expecting? A woman who falls to pieces and trembles in fear of who and what you are even as she craves to be with you? I’ve already done that, and I survived it, see? With a small smile, I think of how I’m not afraid, and that how fast he moves does not shock me. I think, when he kisses me, it’s my own personal slice of heaven, and I would give everything for him to do it again.

With a chuckle of relief I feel down to my toes, he leans over and starts at the base of my neck, letting his lips rest there. Then he moves up over my collarbone and rubs his cheek against it. Higher, to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, as he presses a kiss to my pulse point. Hovering at my throat, he breathes in deeply and sighs, his cool breath blowing over my skin. He bites me, a tiny thing without breaking skin, and my heart rate doubles. I whimper, and no, I’m not going to bother to hide it. Holding my breath is making me dizzy. Finally, his mouth moves to my ear and brushes over the outer shell.

He says, “Choose.”

Holy mother, that voice! Dark, smooth, and laced with raw power. A delicious energy buzzes over my skin and makes me quiver. My inner ear tingles. And that is from a whisper. What will happen if he shouts at me? My fingers grip the edge of the faux velvet booth. Looking out onto the crowded dance floor is easy; his gaze is on my throat instead of entangled with mine.

The room is smoky. Vivacious, I would say if I’m ever asked again, when I’m of sound mind. The electro pop flows smoothly then becomes sharp, jagged, and intense. The DJ raises his fist signalling a change. Headphones the size of small rocks cup his head and his reflective sunglasses gleam as his head bops. His mouth opens in parody of a roar as he pushes his audience, dares them to demand more, then the baseline drops and the crowd loses control. Arms and legs thrash, clammy bodies buck, the movement fed by the undercurrent of tribal drums and sonic booms. Dubstep.

Lee, if you were to sit on a speaker what would happen? Would the molecules of your body simply vibrate apart?

A singer with dark chocolate skin and dressed in spandex sashays onto the stage. She looks like a black widow spider wrapped in buttercup petals. Her slim hips grind with every syllable she warbles over the multi-layered beats. The synthesizers pick up on her higher notes before the tightly coiled reverberations of the base kick in. Everything speeds up and blurs into a chaotic jumble.

The melody mimics the leisurely sweep of my eyes across the nameless bodies that writhe together until I spot them. They’re cruising, checking out the other couples with open lust in their expressions.

He hears me the moment I’ve chosen. Ben’s head turns slightly, dark hair flicking into his eyes. He smiles wickedly and strokes my inner thigh. Ah, I have enough moral fibre to blush at his blatant delight at my choice. I did not mean to make it complicated, or kinky, but it has to be them. I think. They will not be new to this kind of play. Better to choose people who will glean pleasure from what we do if they do so in everyday life of their own free will. Right?

Or are you trying to make this better than what it actually can be, Lee? Making excuses for debauched behaviour already, I see.

The man – good looking, with short dirty blonde hair styled into a Fohawk, graceful eyebrows, and a generous bridge to his nose – pulls his companion – a sweet looking thing with wider-than-normal blue eyes, and a ditzy smile – from the dance floor to start our way. I rub my lips together and cock my head. She is pretty, not beautiful. Her hair and makeup are perfectly crafted to give the impression of beauty, but a real connoisseur of physical perfection would see past that.

I glance down at Ben through my lashes. He plays with the sterling silver belly button ring I had done when I was thirteen years old. I had been mad at my mother because Bethany had hers done, and we did everything together, but my mother would not sign the consent form no matter how many times I assured her I would run away from home if she did not agree. Instead of acceptance, she had stated they were for “cheap sluts, not middle class sweethearts” like me. That had really ticked me off. Trapped in the hormonal fuckfest that was my teenage years, I had heard that as an insult branding Bethany a slut. Naturally, I forged my mother’s signature and had it done anyway.

Ben’s body shakes with laughter as he listens in on my childhood memory, and his tongue replaces his finger for a leisurely swipe. I gasp. Will he like the tattoo that coils around my upper thigh and hip? Did he see that when we were in the shower? Would he trace it with his tongue if I asked him to? Should I try and flash it at him somehow?

‘Do as you will,’ Ben thinks. ‘They will not remember us.’

Hearing this from him has my knees pressing together, despite the fact he is between my legs, and my lower stomach clenches.

The couple slip into the booth, and for a moment, nobody moves. Ben ignores them and I look them over, wondering how far this will go. Sure I like to watch, but … I don’t share.

‘Good,’ Ben replies to my thoughts, and turns his attention to the girl. Face flushing, … the young woman? What are their names? ‘Jake and Lily,’ Ben supplies helpfully.

Ah, okay. Lily strokes Jake’s chest, unbuttons his shirt, and scrapes her fingernails down his hard abs. He’s gloriously ripped; someone has a gym membership I see. She unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans.

The sound of that zip is scandalous. I want to look away now; those pesky morals tugging at me to do what’s right. My face flushes and my fingers tap a beat on my knees. Here is the secret to why watching is pleasurable: what you see is considered private and forbidden. Ignoring that feeling of taboo is why it feels good in the end. Therefore, I lock my body, and settle back to enjoy the show. It’s that simple action, that decision to not look away, which kick-starts the sexual tension, where your clothes are too tight, your mouth too dry, and your sex too wet.

Jake closes his eyes and lets his head loll back to rest on the wall behind him. Lily tugs his erection free and wraps her glossed lips around it, sliding down and taking him fully in her mouth.

Ben watches all this with a measure of distraction; his gaze keeps coming back to me. I make an educated speculation that usually he would receive her attentions, but because I’m here he wants to do it differently. If I want to completely submerge myself in his lifestyle, I should push him to do everything authentically.

Could I handle it?

He moves toward them, pauses, and looks back at me with something indecipherable in his eyes.

I incline my head, accepting of what he is about to do. Too late to back out now. He must show me what this is all about, or it’s all over, and it would kill me for this to end; for the promise of what we could be to end.

Lily bobs up and down on the flesh lodged firmly in her mouth, and her hand comes up and stretches in his direction.

Give me a break! You’re feeling jealousy over this? Pull it together, Lee. The anticipation on your darling’s face is born of hunger not lust. Right? Or are sex and feeding intrinsically linked? Could you live with such a thing, having your man getting turned on by his victims? Well, let us see.

Ben clasps her wrist, turning it over until even I see the bluish veins running beneath the wafer thin surface of her skin. They’re weirdly easy to see … is the booth still dark? Does she have florescent blood or something? No … they throb for him. Is that even possible? Why can I see that? Is that how our bodies react when one of Ben’s kind is near and ready to feed? His chest heaves as he brings her wrist to his parted lips. I school my expression even though I shriek inside, glimpsing fang before the blood crawls down her arm in a thick rivulet of deep red.

I stand up ready to run? To scream? What am I doing here? I could  leave; just walk away and never look back.

Walk away from Ben, Lee?

Trembling, I sit my ass back down, and my hands grip my knees. My darling opens his eyes, which had slipped closed on the first bite, to watch my reaction. My face is unmoving, and my eyes must show how disturbingly calm I am, for his twinkle at me as his pupils shrink to slits again.

I’m certain this change is a reaction to lust and not blood, and that he lusts for me not her.

Lily twitches, groans, and sucks Jake harder, cheeks hollowing, greedily taking all of him in. He pants, thrusting in and out of her mouth with his bottom lip wedged firmly between his teeth, his hand on the back of her head holding her in place. They are quite diverted with each other, and seem to be enjoying themselves immensely during this oral intromission. So does my darling, for that matter, and again I feel the sting of jealousy so intensely it numbs all other emotion.

Ben jerks like he’s been shocked and lifts his head. His satisfied look melts into one of indifference. He pauses then brings her wrist away from his mouth, but not before the tip of his tongue flicks over where he’s bitten. His tongue drags along her skin to lap the blood that escaped the feeding. The whole time his eyes are on mine. Did he feel my envy? Is that why his feeding was so brief? It couldn’t be nice to be eating and have such negative energy killing your buzz.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and push my face into my palm, embarrassed at how petty I can be. Oh, I’m only human, I guess, and that reaction is ordinary.

Ben releases Lily’s arm and she stops sucking Jake. She sits up. At first, I think she is going to scream, but she straddles Jake, who bolts up to see why his pleasure has stopped. In three controlled moves she grabs his turgid flesh in her hand, shoves her panties aside, and impales herself on him.

I recoil in shock. Too much, too private! I grip Ben’s upper arm, a warning in my eyes.

He shakes his head and motions to them with a casual sweep of his hand. ‘I have removed their inhibitions. Nothing more.’ A beat of hesitation. I ease back some considering his words. He is not telling them to do this? ‘Everything they’re doing, they want to do,’ he assures me again. I relax fully. Ben would not lie to me. He’s a straight talker. Instinctively I know and like this about him.

And I do like to watch.

Lee, see how much easier depravity is becoming for you?

Settling back in my seat, I take in the scene before me. She rides him ardently, head thrown back, arms looped around his neck.

Sex is, well, sex. It’s fun, feels good, and leaves you feeling amorous and relaxed. There is nothing bad about it, in the right circumstances. I enjoy the intimacy of watching, but I will never touch, or expect to be touched. So as Ben grips my shoulder, I flinch, embarrassed he’s watching me get off, and lash out in irritation. I glare at him, my expression hard because I do not want to be touched right now.

I look back to the gyrating hips and plunging shaft. I swallow, look away, and place a hand over my thundering heart. I hear them both moan. The booth seats bounce under the pressure of their thrusts. Right. This might be getting too much for me to handle. I think I’m drowning in the harsh reality of my own Sea of Naughty Wishes.

Ben wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me across the seat into him. He jerks me so vigorously my butt makes a whoosh sound on the seat. He picks me up and settles me between his legs, giving a breathy snort of satisfaction.

I blush, dip my head down to consider if I’m going to try and make a run for it. Will he chase me? A smile curves my lips even as my heart speeds up. Okay, I’m back in this thing. I believe I will always stay if it’s what Ben wants.

One of his legs is up on the booth seat, his other bent at the knee, foot to the floor. He leans forward until his front presses against my back. Oooh, I like what I feel. Hardness. Ben is broad shouldered with a narrow waist, but his build is powerful enough to make a rather well proportioned girl like me feel feminine. His thighs are spectacular too; squeezing me gently as I slot between them like I was meant to be there. His chin rests on my shoulder with a sigh and his hands rub my stomach in a slow, comforting manner. I glower at his obvious attempt to settle me down like a jittery colt.

The music changes. Bat for Lashes’ sultry voice peals from the speakers and I wriggle, feeling the music seep into my blood and create a heady simmer of passion. My attention turns back to the couple. Their movements are jerky, frantic. The position I’m in and the height of the booth allow me to watch as Jake’s thickness slips in and out of Lily.

I huff, my cheeks puffing. All too quickly, this is surreal, boring. All I think about is Ben biting me and loving me. The hands at my waist twitch, moving up to rest on my upper torso, thumbs grazing the under-swell of my breasts. Spurred by his reaction, I imagine it again. Ben biting me, and sinking fang and flesh into me to experience pleasure like he has never known.

Groaning softly, he licks my neck and I rock back. Ben’s hands slide down to a more innocent position on my waist, one resting low on my stomach. He moves it lower and I tilt my hips, needing him to touch me. His hand moves away from the centre of my heat and his fingers hook under the edge of my camisole pulling it up as the heel of his palm lazily slides across my stomach.

Huh, he’s just fooling around.

His other hand slips past the unbuttoned waist of my jeans and into my panties to stroke me gently. I inhale sharply with a hiss, snatch my last thought back, and twist my torso to look him in the eyes.

The hand on my stomach blurs into movement and grips my chin, yanking my head back round. Ben growls low in my ear, a warning, and it sends shivers down my spine. My nails scratch over the denim hugging his thighs, my knees wobble, and my lips tingle.

Oh Lee, wrong reaction to have. However, at this point why are you surprised at your body’s reaction to him?

‘Watch,’ he thinks to me softly.

The grip on my face becomes a loving caress that trails down to the nape of my neck. My hair is brushed over my shoulders to fall forward. His lips replace his hand.

“Ben,” I murmur, because I have to say something, and his name sounds good to my ears.

He holds me tighter as I grind against his groin. So close. He continues to stroke me, testing how far he can make my back arch when he applies more pressure. I moan and that elicits a deep rumble of satisfaction from Ben and a breathy squeal from Lily opposite me.

Who, what, where now?

I open my eyes to see her staring at me.

She has turned around and is being taken from behind, whimpering, eyes locked on Ben’s hands caressing me. They’ve been watching me? I suck in a breath and my attention drifts to Jake thrusting himself into her. His gaze is focused on my face, he’s getting hot off my expressions as I react to Ben. How mortifying, I didn’t notice. My eyelids flutter closed, but Ben nips my neck, and they open wide instead.

‘Do not make me have to tell you again,’ he reminds playfully, but with a seriousness that makes me gulp. ‘Watch.’

I’m tempted to disobey and see what he will do with or to me. Almost. As it is, any change in seating will mean I won’t have his hard on pressing into my lower back, one hand palming my nipple, and the other … oh … the other sliding deep inside me and curving.

I lick my lips and lock eyes with Jake. He welcomes me back with a half smile, and a renewal of thrusts. It might be a fun game to see who can stare the other down as our bodies struggle under such pleasurable strain, but oh, he’s too far along. With forceful pumps that shunt Lily halfway across the table on her hands and knees, he stiffens. The tendons in his arms and neck pop as he opens his mouth and cries out. Lily comes in unison, her cheeks going from pink to crimson, her gaze still on Ben’s hand inside my jeans. They convulse around each other then groan into each other mouths as he pulls her up by the hair and they kiss passionately.

My own release tumbles forward; ready to claim me. Nipples hard and hips jerking of their own accord, the pleasure controlled by Ben bottoms out leaving me hanging in dead space. My body tenses, everything contracts, holds, lusciously tight.

Ben’s fangs graze my neck and plunging them into my throat he commands, ‘Come.’

The explosion of my orgasm slams us both back into the booth, but Ben keeps his hold on me, tightens it. I clamp my mouth shut to stop myself crying out. My body spasms and my nails dig into his upper thighs. I let my head rest beside his. So much emotion crashes over me my body doesn’t know what to do with it. A tear rolls from the corner of my eye into my hair and I drag in a breath, and another to clear my head so I’m able to unlock my body. I rub myself into him, hips bucking, as I ride the crashing wave of pleasure that is sweetly depraved and never-ending.

Ben does not drink; he lets his mouth rest on my neck, lips pressing firmly, before his fangs let me go and it’s just a kiss.

Oh, I’m drifting away. I feel enfolded by Ben, by what he feels. In the darkness, I sense he is scared of me, of what my rejection would do him. Such despair he wallows in, and there I am in the centre! A small beacon of hope, my little face is fierce and determined. Is that me? I look so … beautiful. My hair shines like a halo, my eyes sparkle like stars, and I’m always smiling at him. When he turns from me to darker thoughts, I scowl, and rough him up. This delights him, makes him feel hot where he’s arctic. Good! This mental me knows what she’s about then. I cannot believe that shining light is me, or what Ben thinks and feels about the subject that is me. Ooops! I was too noisy in my joy at finding myself so prominently entombed in his psyche, and Ben is aware of me now. I’m being pushed away and thrown out of his mind on my ass.

I blink, open my eyes, and we’re back in the booth. Everybody is coming down from his or her orgasmic high, and this world is colder and less real than the one inside Ben’s mind. I try to go back but he has locked the gate. Damn him. How will I ever get back inside that mental stronghold? I’m going to start my own guerrilla movement with the sole purpose of finding my way back inside.

My neck is sore where I wear his bite, but he did not drink from me? Stupidly, I try to hide the pang of irrational jealousy this time, but will it actually escape his notice? Hell, maybe this time it’s justified, in a perverse way.

Ben chuckles, and my jeans are being zipped and buttoned up. ‘That was not feeding. That was me loving you. When I bite you it is for love. You are my bride.’

He kisses my temple, lingers as he inhales. He’s shaken from my unexpected trip into his consciousness. Ah, love, come on now. You do it to me all the time and I don’t freak out about it, do I?

The couple opposite us put themselves to rights. I eye them through the haze of my happiness. They appear lucid at a glance, but focus deeper and there is blankness there, as if self-awareness has been replaced by something else. Ben’s will? Does he simply remove inhibition to the point the mind crashes and is easily controllable? I’ve so many more questions now.

‘Tomorrow,’ Ben thinks at me gently, but it’s underscored in my mind with a profound importance. ‘Go back to your friend and enjoy her tonight. Tomorrow you’re mine.’

I do not reply, cannot reply. I’m mentally and physically discombobulated, to be honest. If I open my mouth, I will blurt something stupid, so I simply hold his gaze as he shifts me off him and places me on the booth seat. Without any fanfare, he turns from me and walks away. I watch until he is out of my line of sight, the couple trailing behind him in a trance. Do I want to wonder what will happen to them?

Seriously, that elimination of plausible scenarios is best left alone, Lee.

My camisole is bunched beneath my breasts, so I smooth it down, letting the caress linger, imagining. I wipe away a tear, sniff, and then flick away more tears. Great, now I’m crying. Big sobs punctured with relieved chuckles, and blissful giggles escape me. I’m in a state of rapture, of delightful anticipation. Oh, dear me! I am falling in love, and how complicated, messy, and wonderful it is. It’s like an avalanche of boulders. At first one small pebble was heading my way, now the whole damn mountainside is tumbling down, and I’m at the bottom, palms to the sky. How can I hold the weight of all that love up? I’m just little old me. My heart might explode!

I scrub away my tears and stand; I shake out my hair. As I make my way back to the bar, I think I’m floating.

My drink sits innocently on the counter; perspiration beads the glass and rolls down to make a small puddle on the bar top. My stool is empty, but that does not surprise me, people are busy dancing at this hour rather than sitting and drinking. I pick up the glass and press it to my neck, shivering when the cold meets my overheated skin. Taking a sip, I let the drink chill my mouth and throat. I burn from the inside out and am quite afraid there will be nothing left but smouldering ash come morning. God help me, what have I gotten myself into?

Tisk, Lee. You know exactly where you are, and what you’re doing, so why backpedal now for the sake of making yourself feel … purer?

My grip on the glass tightens until a thin crack appears at the base. I want more. More of Ben and more of what he makes me feel.

Bethany taps her fingernails on the bar top, twirling the black stick in her cocktail. “Hey, you want to see a movie with me tomorrow night?” she asks after a few minutes of us both pondering whatever.

I take another sip of my drink, but I’m more focused on keeping my thoughts off what Ben can do to me with a few strokes of his hands, than on what explanation I’ll be giving for blowing her off. “Not tomorrow,” I say finally.

She narrows her eyes and assesses me. I guess what she sees: bruised lips, flushed cheeks, glassy eyes. She lets her gaze roam the room and I fight the urge to tell her she is too late, that the darkest corner of heaven has come and gone. “You met him, right?” she babbles excitedly. “The guy I said you were going to lock gazes with and fuck. You never say no to the movies. Ever. And my Feelings are never wrong. You must have met him.” I squish down my smile, but she catches it. “I knew it. Miss Uptight snagged herself a man.” She jumps up scanning the crowd. “Let me see, where is he?”

I laugh, full bodied, and infused with joy. I am happy. I flirt with death and I’m blissfully happy. How sick. “Gone,” I reply, still laughing.

He told me he would see me tomorrow night. Do I have to come here, or will he find me? Well, no matter how badly I want to see him I will not be that easy. I smooth a fingertip over my lips, considering. Should I take it back to where it all began? Back to where my life took the turn I will never come back from. Of course, it’s apt, fitting.

“Okay,” I agree to the cinema. “What is it we’re seeing?”

I’ve seen every movie showing so it doesn’t really matter to me … okay I admit I had not actually watched any of them, I’d simply stared at Ben.  I laugh harder. I had stalked him. My poor darling, did he ever stand a chance of escaping me?

Bethany picks up on my train of thought; something that can only happen when you have been friends before you knew life was not all about oral gratification. “We’ll pick when we get there, you’ve probably seen them all anyway.” She chews her lip thoughtfully. “So you’re blowing him off then?”

Never. Death first. “No, just playing a game.” I smile wickedly and she instantly catches my mood and runs a finger down my inner arm.

“God, Lee, I’m curious. Tell me, please. I can’t get a Feel on him,” she frowns as she places her pointed chin in her palm, “which is odd. Usually I can read men well. So…?” Her heart-shaped face is encouraging as her hand strokes my arm. “You know you want to tell me.”

I think about what Ben is doing right now. Naturally, I’m inclined to think he’ll not take the girl, or indulge in a ménage a trois. He belongs to me now, and he’d never touch another unless I say he can. This I know in the core of me, just like no other man will have the right to touch me unless he gives permission. And so if he’s not going to sleep with them–

No! Halt that thought right there, Lee. You are ignoring the plausible scenarios, remember?

So perceptive he is, my Ben. He has given me one more night with Bethany; my best friend and occasionally my bed partner. I turn to look at her now, this person who means so much to me. Her fiancé was okay with our relationship, as far as I could tell. Bethany had made the sexual slant known to him early on, but promised that is as far as her wandering hands and mouth will ever go. He accepts her for what she is, and that’s why she will be okay when I’m gone. Something tells me my life will be too perilous for my friend to be around me.

Smiling back at her, I wind my fingers into her pink bob and tug playfully. Her eyes darken. Still high from my encounter with Ben, I lean closer and brush my lips over hers. Bethany slides her tongue over my bottom lip and shivers as I hum appreciatively.

Backing away, I see a bloke standing behind us. Pint glass halfway to his mouth, he is caught like a deer in headlights, the front of his slacks tenting. I roll my eyes. We had better get out of this bar before he attempts to drum up enough courage to actually come and speak his dirty little fantasy to us.

“Beth, let’s go.”

I push my way through the crowd, feeling Bethany’s hand gripping my shoulder with a promise to keep track of me.

Tomorrow.

Chapter 5 Some Think Murder Is Recreation

Throwing herself into a bucket seat, Bethany groans. “And we couldn’t stay in bed because…?”

Settling down beside her, I pop a kernel of popcorn in my mouth and sigh at the sweet saltiness on my tongue and the delicious crunch as I bite down. “Because you suggested it.”

“That was before the hangover from hell.”

I shrug and suck deeply on my jumbo straw. Yum. Pepsi and popcorn, nothing in the world like it.

We’re slumming it in joggers, faded tee shirts, and hoodies. Hooking a sneaker clad foot under my bum, I’m entirely too comfortable. I have that lush afterglow that cannot be reproduced with overpriced creams or ointments. My body feels soft and supple, my smile a bit too wide.

Bethany adjusts her sunglasses, a testament to how bad her hangover must be if she needs them in a darkened cinema screen, and fluffs the back of her electric blue bob, her fingernails now a jazzy indigo. It’s only because I happen to be looking at her I glimpse the bruise on the back of her neck as her fingers smooth over it. Was that there last night? Her pink wig was longer so that area was covered.

I drop the drink into the holder and snatch her wrist to see better, pushing her head into her chest. “Hey,” she protests, but the words die on her lips when she spies my face.

“What is that on the back of your neck?” I ask, my words short and punchy.

Hold it back, Lee. She bruises easy; there may be a reasonable explanation.

She pales, pats her hair down, and focuses on the screen in front of us. “I thought it had faded,” she mumbles. “Don’t go there, alright? Let’s have fun tonight. We had a great day and I don’t want it spoiled.”

My anger explodes so forcefully my legs jerk and popcorn scatters across the floor. Spoil it? She has unexplained bruises on her body and she wants to remain silent? I rein myself in and manage to keep our bag of Revels from falling to the floor.

“Like hell I won’t go there. That looks like finger marks on the back of your neck and shoulder.” I pause, my stomach sinks, and I whisper. “Did I do that to you when I–?”

“No!” She places a hand on mine and her eyes are gentle. “No. You’ve never hurt me, Lee.”

I grit my teeth, because that leaves, “Derek.” The name has Bethany flinching. Derek is her fiancé. The fiancé I spent the night before convincing myself would take care of my friend after I left. Just like that, my mood is black and I have murder on the brain. I inhale and exhale deeply to control the rage. Is this what The Hulk feels like? Derek, that asshole, I’ll tear his useless domestic abusing head off the next time I lay eyes on him. Better yet, I’ll bite it off. “Is this the first time?” I ask to be sure I’ve not made a mistake of some kind or jumped to a conclusion.

Bethany huffs, “Lee, these things happen. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. The signs were there long before he actually did anything. We were arguing, and I should’ve backed off, but you know what my mouth is like when it gets going. This is the first and last time it’s happened. Promise. He just … it was my own fault anyway.”

Her … her fault? What could my sweet Beth do that would mean anybody would lay hands on her.

Oh, I see. I know what the problem is, and I stare at her until she finishes with, “He gets jealous when I’m with you. Add the stress of dealing with my insomnia–”

“Bullshit,” I blurt, unable to contain myself. “I’ll kill him.”

“Hey!” Someone yells angrily behind us. “Keep it down, film’s about to start.”

I spin round to glare into the darkness above, but in honesty, I’m in the wrong. “Sorry,” I bark, and twist round to stuff a handful of popcorn in my mouth.

‘He can be your first.’

I tense. My first…?

Could he really? My eyes widen even as I slap myself mentally. Had I not thought I’d like to bite Derek’s head off? I shift in my seat. Well, skirting around the edges of this will not make it any easier, so I grab the proverbial bull by the horns; the idea that I could really do something about this. I will have the power to make him suffer. If I hold onto this grudge, it would mean…. Ben sits next to me and smiles, his fangs showing. I calm instantly. I had thought Ben would sort all of that out for me, my first feeding.

So is that it then, Lee? You’ve decided to become like him after all. What happened to finding everything out before you made that choice?

Ben lets me wrestle my thoughts before he shrugs and says, ‘I chose my first, it goes without saying. I can end him if you like?’

I stifle the urge to scream “Yes!” and shake my head. I settle back into my seat and place my hand on the armrest. Thoughts of murder leech from my mind and my body tingles at Ben’s nearness.

Our fingers entwine, and he brings our joined hands to rest on his knee. I struggle to focus on Ginger twirling across the screen in her opening sequence. Ben opens my fingers one by one and strokes them individually, pausing to trace the lines in between each segment. I swallow hard and let out a rush of breath through my nose. These two bodily functions prove most difficult right now. He makes small circles on my palm, burning lazy patterns into my flesh. My breaths come shallow, and I fidget as heat climbs up my neck.

Bethany leans over and mock whispers from the corner of her pouty mouth. “Are you going to introduce me, or just let him play around with you until you can’t function properly?”

Ha, ha. I give her a droll look and question Ben in my mind. I’m curious as to why he is not making her ignorant of his presence.

He answers, ‘I thought you might like me to meet her? I doubt I will meet your mother, and I thought….’ His tone is hesitant, I would go so far to say embarrassed. Oh, my darling, how you make me smile. My best friend was the next best thing in your mind? ‘Yes. You love her. I felt your anger for the way her man treats her. I hope one day you care the same way about me.’

I swallow. One day? “Beth,” I say somewhat croakily, emotion threatening to strangle away all my words. “Meet Ben.”

She smiles and holds out her hand. “A pleasure Ben, and my, my, aren’t you a looker. Where have you been all Cecilie’s life?” She alternates her gaze between us both, giving her best shit eater grin.

I’m horrified. She said my name, my whole name, damn it. I hide my face behind my hands. Yeah, Ben probably knows all sorts of awkward and unpleasant things about me, he reads my mind after all, but still, she said it out loud. I peek between my fingers, and shoot daggers at her.

Ben, smiling at either my mental distress or Beth’s jovial greeting, takes her hand and shakes it lightly.

Her eyes widen at what must be his chilly skin. She jolts jerks her hand back, looking down at his hand, up at his face, then at me suspiciously. Bethany is one of the smartest people I have ever met, nothing gets past her, so why did I expect anything less than what is about to happen? Ranges of emotions flicker across her features; fear, panic, excitement, desperation, and finally acceptance. I love this girl, she takes it all in her stride.

“Seriously?” She asks in a low voice.

With a squeeze to my fingers from Ben, I nod once, nervous now. “Um, yeah. You always said they were out there.” I shrug. She had more faith in the paranormal than I did. She was supernatural, in her own freaky, I Know Everything way.

Her shocked look fades into sadness. “That I did. Just like I always knew I’d lose you someday.”

Aw, crap. My eyes water and I blink back tears. Nope. I cannot do this, not with Beth. I want to leave now, and Ben better hear me, so I repeat the thought as a shout in my mind, and attach bells and an emergency foghorn. Ben lets go of my hand and stands. He is not going to fight me on this. Thank you, Ben. Inclining his head to her, he walks down to the fire exit. Once he gets there, he stops, waiting for me with a comforting expression.

My heart sinks as tears dribble down Beth’s cheeks and neck.

What excuse are you going to give for abandoning her. Lee?

“I need him,” I say helplessly. My hands rise and fall in my lap and I twist my fingers together into knots.

Bethany pats my cheek fondly. “I know. I’m happy for you. I feel this is the right thing for you.” She looks at me and there is a smirk on her face, even if it’s tinged with sadness and wobbling at the edges. “This explains why I couldn’t get a good read on him. I should have seen it coming. I guess I did in a way. I simply never put two with two to get four. When I felt you would change I thought maybe you would become disgustingly rich and posh or something.”

She had always felt things when we were little. Like making sure we didn’t eat meat from a barbeque while another kid who went ahead and ate the food got sick. Like not walking down an alley when we were in high school, and a girl being found with her skull caved in down that same alleyway when nobody else heeded her warning. Bethany is special, but she’s also sick. Her insomnia makes her weak, puts strain on her mind and body. We both think her condition is a direct result of her gift, but of course medical science never believes when we explain our theory. It’s hard work on her to stay sane, and I know my relationship with her helps.

Yes, it helps and what are you doing, Lee, you selfish thing you?

I rest my face in her palm and sigh. I’m taking that release away from her, but what else can I do? I’ve a nasty feeling an early grave will be all I’m be good for if Ben walks from my life. I am that obsessed. I can help her in one way. Ooops. Look away, I think she sees my plan in my eyes. Oh wait, she is still touching me, damn it. Her freaky third eye is stronger when she’s touching me.

“Derek is not your problem, he’s mine, and I’m dealing. I mean it, Lee, do not get involved.” Her eyes dart to Ben and back to me. “If he lets you, come visit sometime, okay? And even if he doesn’t still visit.”

Jaw tight, I nod, and place my hand over hers. “My mother….”

“We went to the cinema tonight and after that,” she shrugs, “who knows. Don’t worry about her. The old battle-axe will be fine. She’s made of strong stuff, like her daughter.”

I hug her tightly. Then I make myself a promise and I hope Ben can hear me, because I mean to keep it. “I’ll come back for you, I swear. I’ll call you in a couple of days to let you know I’m okay.”

She laughs, pulls back to wipe at her eyes. “Go on now. Before the rest of the people in this cinema lynch me.” She crosses her eyes and makes a choking sound.

I chuckle at her crass humour, so Bethany, and hand her the popcorn and Revels. Turning my back on her is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and when I get to the end of the row, I hesitate.

“My god, Lee. It’s bad enough I’m technically at the movies by myself, but salted? For fuck sake girl! The shit I put up with from you.”

I choke on a giggle and keep going, laughing into my hand as tears flow. She’ll be alright and I’ll see her again. Soon.

I meet Ben at the door and let him take me into his arms. He tucks my head under his chin, and everything shifts. He moves so fast the world becomes the twilight zone, and I cannot feel anything. The air is cold, and I can’t breathe. Air whips past too fast for me to draw it into my lungs. I need to breathe! He slows and puts me down. By now, my tears have stopped and my legs are shaking. I gulp down air and my mouth becomes dry. We’re not doing that again anytime soon are we, love? My body has been through a lot these last few days, and worse is yet to come, I think. Ixnay on moving that fast.

We stand outside a quaint restaurant down a side alley on Cheapside. The Bloody Hand. Huh. Humour from you, Ben? Where are we exactly? I thought it was time for me to be like you, yet, you bring me to eat? If I was hungry I would have asked you to stop at Nandos, everybody loves chicken, and I’m no different. My stomach grumbles. Hmm. I could eat right now.

Straightening my clothes, I turn to ask Ben why this place, and find he is staring at the worn wooden door. His expression keeps changing, as if he’s having a conversation.

Wait. Just wait one damn minute. Am I going to meet more people like Ben?

Oh my gosh, you ass, why didn’t you tell me? Am I about to meet your family? Look at me! My hair is a mess, my face feels blotchy, god knows what it must look like. My clothes are crumpled from where you carried me and I’m just … all over the place mentally. They’ll think you’ve brought home a stray human, and will think I’m always this sloppy and condemn me. Okay fine, I admit I’m usually sloppy, but if I know it’s to be an occasion I will smarten up. I’m not happy, Ben. Ben? I brush my hands over my torso and smooth them over my hips. Why did I choose to wear jogging bottoms today? I pat my hair worriedly and scowl at Ben who shakes with laughter. He is so overcome he leans on the brick wall as his other hand holds his stomach. He struggles not to make a sound and this does not sit well with me. He should be able to laugh without restraint around me.

I attack him with my fingers at his sides; pinching and tickling him until he grabs my hands the same moment his laughter breaks the silence.

Oh, wow!

My eyes rattle in my skull and I kind of tilt to the side. The sound is a shockwave I’ve been blown back by, and only because he holds my hands do I not topple over. Instantly, he is contrite and clutching me to his chest, and rubbing my ears.

Ah, darling, it’s not your fault. I’m the tickler. Remember that, please, before you beat yourself up over something that was entirely my own doing.

He’s avoiding my eyes now because he’s flogging himself mentally for hurting me. I pinch his chest and prod his stomach until he looks my way, cautiously. I beam at him and place my hands over my ears, making a shocked face as I roll my eyes into the back of my head. When I open them Ben is smiling again, and everything is okay. I nod my head to the restaurant and my stomach rumbles.

So, Lee, what do you think will be in there? Ben has given you no clues whatsoever now has he?

No, but he would never bring me anywhere that I would be in danger. I think. He has a strange need to protect me, this man of mine, even though he wants to show me his world; which is a far cry from the safety of my own, and morally debased. Oh, am I not a hypocrite! What makes my life better than his?

I open the door to the restaurant as I think my next thought. Ben does not kill anybody, and I’m sure of that….

My darling stiffens and ducks his head. His hands splay out in front of him. ‘I do not wish to lie to you….’

Damn. Okay, best to find out now. I close the door and keep my expression neutral. I want to know everything there is to know. Yes … yes I do still want that, so I brace myself.

His feeding does not equal death, so, why would he have killed people? Is it different when you are Ben’s kind and young? Can you not control the need for blood? Hmm. I need to stop speculating and find out!

I hold both my hands out, palm up. “Tell me please.”

‘I–’

At this word, I’m shaking my head. His brow puckers, but I point to my ear. A quick glean of my thoughts and he fisting his hands at his sides, upset, and not liking what he is about to do. No, he does not like it, but he agrees and understands.

“I kill them for sport.”

Ahhhh!

I float in darkness. Are the street walls still quaking? No? Ah, Ben is holding me again. Were we not talking about how he kills people and … oh yeah. Okay, I think I passed out. Man, oh man, that voice!

Ah, Lee, can you not feel the total panic in the lines of Ben’s body? The sobs he is choking back? Get out of your head and open your eyes!

I do, and he looks miserable. Aw, I’m okay, see? I stand up, a little wobbly, but I’ve got this. I feel like I need to stick fingers in my ear canals and swirl them around a bit, but otherwise, I’m A-OK. I assume you caught me before I cracked my head open, Ben? Thank you! Grateful he takes such good care of me, I hug his middle, and when I look at his face, I remember what he said.

My face does its own thing and drops. For sport. Like games? Death is a game is it? Oh, Ben. I step away and turn to try and shield him from the worst of the horror and disappointment, but I feel him poking around in my mind. When he feels the worst of it he touches my shoulder and makes me face him.

I can’t help it, I feel … let down. Hurt. You’re better than that, Ben. You don’t have to kill, which makes it worse. You kill people because it’s fun for you, as recreation? That makes you a monster, my darling, a monster that I should throw all sorts of crosses and prayers at until you implode. Have you taken the life of women? The lives of children!

I clutch my throat as blackness closes in on me. Oh god, Ben. Why? Why! Tell me, please.

And what did you expect, Lee? A gentle soul who reveres life even as he must steal it to live? Did you expect your love to have the utmost in moral values? Silly girl, there is a certain type of person who draws the damned to them no doubt. A certain type of personality that is corrosive, selfish, and easily susceptible to evil, I would think.

I don’t believe that! Do I?

I rub my temples and shoot a look at Ben. He looks miserable, and I don’t want to offer comfort this time. I want to be strong enough to punch his face in. He’s making me feel unclean. Wickedness incarnate. How can I know this and still walk through that door? How can I know this and withstand another moment in his presence?

Dearest Lee, because you don’t care enough.

My hands fall from my head and my shoulders slump. Yes, only the most selfish and corrupt can adapt to this life – drawing the damned to them. That is the truth of the matter. Ben means more to me than anyone else now, and so, they become lesser priorities to his needs and wants. Is that what set me out from the rest? The fact I know right from wrong but choose to embrace the bad anyway? Ah, is this why he chose me above the other women he could have?

Ben huffs and pulls me into him. He tucks my head under his, and rocks me back and forth until my mind is quieter.

Darling, I need your words now. Explain it to me before I go mental.

‘Everything you think is true, to a degree. Can you accept this?’

I ponder. Why is he asking if I can accept it? I’ve already identified I don’t care enough to want to fight him to change his ways.

‘My love, I did not spend a second agonizing over what I would become and the actions of those who I would be surrounding myself with. I feel your pain when you think of taking life for nothing other than feral amusement. Do you not see, already, you are different? You are better than I am.’ My mouth falls open. That is the longest Ben has ever spoken to me. Words are precious to him and not for liberal use, yet he composed such a speech to still me. I sigh, and pat my hair again. Better get this show on the road. As I open the door again, warm air rushes out to swathe me, and Ben says, ‘And love? There has never been another woman who has consumed me as you have. Ever.’

This is why I stumble, and blush when the attendant has to stretch out his arm in alarm to steady me. I’m straightening myself, and blushing harder as Ben stands composed and serene beside me with a small self-satisfied smile. Well, you just wait! One day, I will catch you off guard, and made a right fool of you.

The attendant takes my sweatshirt and does not blink at its raggedy appearance. Oh, how embarrassing. Again, I scold Ben mentally for not telling me we would be coming here. He holds out his hand and I take it, because, why would I not?

Aw, damn. We’ve stepped into the restaurant, and I can tell I’ve skipped gleefully into the jaws of danger.

Chapter 6 The Introduction To Ben’s People

With ruthless mental swiftness, I push the frightening sense of foreboding deep into the recesses of my mind. I slant a look at Ben. Did he hear me?

The paler bodies in the room track my movement with their eyes, nostrils flaring, as Ben walks ahead of me, hand clasping mine. I say my movement because one watches the way my foot lands on the dark wood floor. One watches my hair swishing over my shoulders. One watches my throat bob as I swallow hard. Another watches the rise and fall of my chest as I inhale and exhale. I feel very much on display, but at the same time the most valuable thing in the room. How odd. I start to sweat, because every set of eyes is on me and I’m not used to it.

There is a table in the centre of the room on a raised dais with one chair. Ben jerks his head to a waiter who stares at him with wide eyes, nodding repeatedly. Before I blink, another velvet lined chair is tucked under the table. Ah, why such a big deal? Can we not slide into that table right at the back, away from the spotlights? Must we sit in the middle of the room? I’m … bemused, okay, I confess, a little nervous. Did Ben think this would please me? This attention?

As I sit, I look up into the waiter’s face expecting blankness, but prepared to say my thanks regardless. I’m shocked! There is full awareness there. The thank you tumbles from my lips in a stutter, and the waiter inclines his head briefly before unfolding my napkin and placing it gingerly on my lap.

“My Lord?” he asks Ben in a pleasant voice.

Ben does not take his eyes off me, but motions to the menu and taps a name three lines down. The waiter places a hand to his chest as he commits the order to memory. “Very good.” He turns to me. “My Lady?”

He motions to the menu, and I take it from Ben’s hand, letting my fingers brush his cold ones. Great, I’m blushing again. I look at the menu and struggle to keep the grin from my face. Did the waiter really call me Lady? As in capital L? To the left of the menu is a selection of dishes, but to the right is a list of wines blended with blood types, and this is what I study.

‘You already know this room is filled with my kind. Does it not make sense it would cater for our needs?’

Hmm. Yes, but I thought Ben’s kind fed from live humans, straight from the tap, so to speak. Ben regards me silently for a long time, five minutes at least. Oh alright, it’s probably only been five seconds, but he does have that weighty gaze that crushes you if you’re not careful.

I fidget as he thinks, ‘Some of us become sympathetic to the fragility of the human condition once we take mates. Killing often becomes less of a need, and more of an indulgence, to those who take human companions.’

I’m human, and I would consider myself a companion of Ben’s, his only companion. At least I better be.

Don’t be silly, Lee. He has already admitted you are his one and only.

I beam at him, even as I think that Ben looks the type to indulge often.

‘I did indulge. It was a vast and beloved greed I sated with pleasure. Then I chose you.’

Ah. I see. Yesterday at my flat was not Ben coming to make love to me, was it? Or maybe that was part of the plan, but he really followed me home so he could….

Ben’s face is ashen and his eyes downcast. I consider falling prey to the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I shake it off. I’d assumed as much already considering his reaction after our kiss, and his abrupt departure afterward, but it was hard to have it confirmed that you experienced heaven and your lover battled inner demons.

The menu has lost my interest and I pick the first thing my eyes settle on. “I’ll have the Chili Tailapia,” I say croakily to the waiter, and watch him closely now my attention is focused on how surreal this situation is. He does not seem at all uncomfortable with the knowledge this room is filled with beings that could crush him and suck away his life-force.

“A good choice and our Lord Afzal’s specialty. He will be pleased. And to drink?’

I glance back at the menu, panicking. This place is one where they expect you to pick the right wine to go with your food, but I just see elegant French names. I look back up at waiter with a blank expression. His eyebrows lift in surprise, mocking.

‘Request something light and fruity to complement the fish.’

I tap a finger to my chin. “Something light and fruity to complement the fish,” I say as Ben instructs.

‘Not too dry. Tell him your trust his judgment and to surprise you.’’

“Not too dry. I trust your judgment,” I smile thinly, “surprise me.”

The waiter beats a hasty retreat from the table as Ben glowers at him.

Lord Afzal. Another Lord? Is this a respect thing or are these actual titles we’re talking about?

‘Afzal is the owner and Head Chef of this restaurant. He is a good cook and a good friend. Loyal. He was what is known know as a Sheikh in his time, but using that title out in the open would draw unwanted attention. He is outlandish enough.’

I smooth my hand over the silver knife on the damask patterned napkin in front of me. The candle flame flickers, and I enjoy the glow it bathes our table in. I try to casually dab away beads of sweat on my brow. It’s warm in here, almost uncomfortably so, but Ben is relaxed. He enjoys the warmth, and I don’t want to make a fuss. I just finished complaining it was too cold after all. Yeah, I don’t want to seem high maintenance or embarrass him anymore than I already have.

I blink and the seat opposite me is empty. Oh! A kiss to the side of my face has my heart thumping hard. Damn, he moves fast. He covers my hand with his and tugs, pulling me up and out of my seat to the dance floor in the middle of the room.

All eyes follow us. Not that any of them had left me since I stepped in here.

Ben tucks me under his chin, and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly. He likes to hold me close to him, like I’m precious.

He’s cold again, but with the sweltering temperature of the room, it’s quite nice. I nestle against him, enjoying how he hums to me without making a sound. The sound flows through my mind and soothes me. It’s then I notice, apart from the music, how quiet it is in here, like a crypt. Are all the couples talking mind to mind? There could be no more than four other couples. Can the others hear my thoughts like Ben can? Oh god, are they all listening to me crush over him in all the sordid detail? Ahh! Is everyone listening now, dropping eaves left right and centre? Oh gosh, please stop! You included Ben. You don’t need to hear this melodramatic madness.

‘The others cannot hear you, and the humans are merely their consorts.’ His body shakes and I peek up to see he is laughing. He holds me closer and sighs happily. ‘Never be afraid to speak your mind to me.’

My mind whizzes. He cannot always hear me?

His eyebrows rise. ‘Not always, and not always clearly. Your thoughts are … fractured. Only when you direct thoughts at me can I hear you plainly. At times I have to decipher your surface thoughts to the deeper meaning beneath. I– I thought you knew this.’ He pauses, and I get the distinct sense of surprise by the way his eyes flash down to my face then away again. ‘This whole time you thought I could hear everything?’ I flush. Nod. ‘Hmm. And you accepted that invasion on your privacy?’

“There is nothing I would keep from you,” I admit aloud and a number of heads turn our way, eyes widening in shock. I ignore them. They may hear my every heartbeat, but this is none of their business.

One man, grandiose, and most handsome, now stands on the edge of the dance floor in the shadows.

Ben stops dancing and steps away from me. “Daniel,” he greets aloud. I wince in that way I do when he speaks. It explains why Ben stepped away from me; his tone is biting, filled with wrath, but why? It’s okay for another of his kind to say hello to me is it not?

Dark hair tousled up top and styled with short back and sides, Daniel’s eyes are bright blue, shocking really, and his face drips sarcasm in a rakish kind of way. His body is lean, taller than Ben’s, and he wears tailored dress slacks and a grey turtleneck. My Ben’s dress sense is better, I think. His dark jeans and navy knit crew neck fit him just right. Anyway, Daniel is the kind of man who intimidates by being in the same room as you, and boy, do I feel intimidated. He has the strangest expression on his face as he watches me and how Ben hovers in front of me protectively. He lurches forward into the light highlighting the dance floor. This man is of Ben’s kind, so lurching is odd on him.

I offer my hand to shake with a nervous smile trembling on my lips. “Cecilie Drake,” I say feigning confidence.

The music stops, a human gasps, and the pale ones tense. An elfin Lady has left her seat to stand ramrod straight, haunting grey eyes darting between us.

What did I do? Ben is saying and doing nothing, so I have no clue as to what rule I’ve broken, or how to make it right. Um, so, what do I do? I feel a little foolish standing here with my hand hovering in the air.

Daniel reaches for my hand the same moment Ben slips his hand around my waist, and presses a kiss to my cheek, his eyes still on the man bent over before me. The timing is so fluent, both kiss me at the same time. I shiver in fear from the one who turns my hand and rests his lips on the back of it, and the touch of Ben’s mouth on my skin.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Daniel says in a gravelly voice. “Have you been Child Ben’s donor long?”

Despite the power Daniel’s voice holds, it’s nowhere near as compelling as Ben’s. I smile pleasantly, and tilt my head as if considering his words, but I’m trying to work out what he means. Child? Donor? These phrases are obviously commonplace to him … and he expects them to be commonplace to me too.

‘You are my love never think otherwise. The man who holds your hand is my Sire. He had hoped I would turn someone of political importance to further our race. Such is the way we usually do things.

I want to blush with humiliation. I’m nobody, yet Ben considers making me like him. Schooling my expression to neutral, even though my heart kicks my chest like it’s the ball and my breastplate is the goal, I reply, wondering why Daniel assumes Ben will not turn someone of political importance after me.

Ah, there is nothing but silence where I expect Ben’s answer to be.

Love? Do you hear me?

“I’m not a donor,” I say since it’s been a good twenty seconds since Daniel had spoken.

“Indeed?” His eyes flick between us. His hand remains closed over mine, and I notice his skin warms considerably slower than Ben’s. “So who might you be, so I do not offend?”

“This is not your concern!” Ben roars so suddenly I jump a full step to the left and squeal in fright. “Stop trying to daunt my bride for it will not work.”

Every human in the room clutches their head, a freckled red head slips from her chair in a dead faint, and all the pale ones wince delicately, but are very still, not yet comforting their humans.

I am proud to say I stand strong, but god, my ears are ringing, and my vision cuts to black every other millisecond. I squint, praying I don’t keel over and humiliate Ben in front of his people. My love makes a low and angry sound, and his cold hands are now clasping my head firmly. The others of his kind do the same to their human consorts. I’m beginning to understand why Ben is not used to talking aloud.

I hear his voice as if through a stone wall “Accept my sincerest apology for hurting your loved ones,” he says.

There is an immediate response from all of, “My Lord.”

“Sebastian, is Nia well?” Ben asks.

The pale one with a kind face and peculiar murky eyes nods once, and picks his red haired companion up off the floor. He strokes her head. Sitting her on his lap he rocks her gently until her eyelids flutter open.

‘Forgive me?’ Ben asks.

“Always,” I whisper, and lean into him. Honestly, I need to shift my weight for a while in case my legs give out.

Daniel’s grip on my hand tightens and instead of crying out, I pull until he has no choice but to let me go. Ben relaxes and strokes my back. And Lord Daniel? He spins on his heel with a great deal of flourish. I imagine a great black cape billowing as he does this. He storms past a table and grabs a long grey coat with a standing collar, and leaves the restaurant without a backward glance.

Very well dressed are these beings.

“He didn’t pay for his dinner,” I mutter into the appalled silence.

Ben chuckles and everybody deflates. The Lady who is standing loses the intensity of her posture, and is seated. She stares into the eyes of her equally blonde companion. She is quite lovely. Her beauty is unyielding and valiant. Had her eyes not been so lovely, hair so fair, and her figure so obviously feminine, she might have looked androgynous. The man seated opposite is somewhat older, I think. He has a full beard and a broad face. I want to cuddle him … he looks cuddly. How would he react to such a thing, if I were to totter over and wrap my arms around him?

Ben stiffens and thinks to me, ‘He would no doubt enjoy it, but his mate … I do not want to hurt anybody tonight, love.’

Ah, I was projecting my thoughts too loudly. The music starts once again, but our drinks have arrived. Ben sits me back down. I think he wants to take a moment to collect himself after the departure of his Sire.

Over the rim of my glass, I watch him watch me. The curiosity on my face must be evident, and Ben must know I’m waiting for an answer to my previous pondering on why Daniel assumes he will only initiate me into the coven of the night.

Do it, Lee. Ask him again outright. Just what the hell is going on?

Ben’s forefinger traces the lifeline of my palm, absentminded. I wish we could get out of here to be alone together. I just want to hold him for a while. In a blink, he is standing beside me again, and sweeps me up into his arms. I’m glad he’s so strong; I swoon, and grip his shirt tightly. His eyes beckon to me, reflecting my earlier wish for privacy. I cannot look away, even if I tried, even if I wanted to. Not because he has coerced me, but because he is too beautiful not to stare at.

Ben turns on his heel to leave, but stops abruptly with a frustrated huff. The blonde-haired elfin Lady blocks our exit. Her face is luminous, even when devoid of expression.

“Entschuldigen sie,” she says. “Wohin gehst du? Es hat keine einführung worden.”

Sighing, Ben sets me down and covers my ears. “It was a mistake to bring her here. And Lee does not speak German.”

“Das ist mir egal!” she snaps. “But since you care for her I will speak English. To bring her here was stupid, but respectful. You could have turned her, who are we to stop you? Daniel has always been difficult, and you know this. Es macht nichts.” She speaks crisply in short punchy sentences, and every syllable is clipped, precise. She is ghostlike this woman, if I touch her will my hand pass through? I’m in awe of her, so beautiful. She turns to me. “Ich heiße Simone.”

I half smile, not sure where I stand with her. “I’m Lee, my pleasure to meet you.”

Her gaze flicks over me once, twice, and her lips quirk. “Gleichfalls.”

Erm, still don’t speak German! Her companion now stands beside her and clasps her hand. His is … humongous. I still want to give him a cuddle, but it would be like trying to wrap my arms around a tree trunk he is so huge. I think he if he were to jump and land the whole world would shake, or if he were to roar, the sky would crack in two; and the scary thing is, I’m not exaggerating.

“She is Petite, Ben. Oh that is funny, the Petite One. Not what I would have chosen for you.” He leans down, all up in my space, and narrows his sea blue eyes. “She has a clean soul. No, no! Not what I would have chosen for you.” His hairy caterpillar eyebrows twitch as I glower at him.

Not chosen me for Ben? For shame! The big oaf does not scare me. I will box his ears and tug that ratty beard of his right off his face if he utters another word about Ben not choosing me!

My darling chuckles with laughter and rubs his hands over my ears in comfort.

“I see I have offended you,” the giant says, and leans closer. “Are you the one, girl? Will you bear the weight of Ben’s legacy? Of our entire race’s legacy and not fall to madness? Can you live in darkness and dine on the innocent?”

“Och, Adam, ye eedjit,” says another male voice, thick with a honeyed brogue. “The lass’ll think we’re nothing but animals.”

Ben’s hands turn with my head as I twist to see who it is. The Scot is a stunning man. He’s green of eye, with curly auburn hair, and such ruddy cheeks and ears for so pale a complexion. The cable knit sweater, jeans, and white butcher’s apron do nothing to conceal his gawky body. He wipes his hands on a gingham tea towel and grimaces at Ben. “You downa do that, be taking the lass ‘fore she eats. Afzal will blow a gasket if he finds he served the fish for naught.” He winks at me. “Ma name’s Iain. I’m the braw one.”

Giggling, I wave at him. He’s younger than me, twenty, perhaps, and very cute. Ben’s chuckle whispers across my ears. What’s so funny? Oh! Right, Iain looks young; he’s probably hundreds of years older than me. Anyway, he has a dimple in his chin and thick eyelashes that are entirely too feminine. His build is wiry, puny next to giant Adam, even Ben. He does seem to have a more jovial air than the rest of them.

Ah, Adam The Giant is still in my face. What does he want from me?

“She needs to know the truth before you change her. She is not like we were and she needs to know.” Adam is addressing Ben now but his eyes are still on me. “I am afraid to say that if she knows she will not choose you and my heart is heavy for you, Child, but this once we should place the needs of one of them before our own.”

“Nein,” Simone interjects. “She is capable. Even if she were to end the line, does it really matter anymore? Besides, mein schatz, you are always quick to brand us females soft. So quick to judge and carry out unfair sentence without letting the accused defend herself. Es gefällt mir nicht.”

He bristles and clasps her hand tighter when she tries to tug it away. “You will never let me forget will you?” Simone does not answer, but is looking away into the distance as if remembering. Adam’s brows lower, his face goes red with an unexpected burst of colour. He opens his mouth, and, oh my, his ivory fangs are bloody huge! He sucks in a huge breath and Iain is unexpectedly between the couple, one of his lanky arms flung over Adam’s shoulder, the other curled Simone’s non-existent waist. He smacks an affectionate kiss on her forehead like a man would to his sister.

“Naw! No brawling in Afzal’s establishment, ye know he dislikes wiping blood off the walls. Tis’nt sanitary.”

The door behind us slams open and I tremble in place, not really wanting to look around to see who has entered the room now.

Ben pulls me back into him and kisses the crown of my head. ‘Stay with Iain, love, I will return.’

Then Ben, Simone, and Adam are gone. The front door of the restaurant clicks shut just as my mouth finishes cranking open to ask him to stay. Iain is left grinning mischievously. He finally realizes there is a splotch of blood on his forehead and wipes it off. About time, I’d been staring at it for ages.

Bride? Wait, did Ben say the words ‘My’ and ‘Bride’ in relation to me a few minutes ago when talking to Daniel? Oh my gosh! What the hell? Ben get your ass back here!

“Who is fighting?” grunts a mysterious voice behind me. It screams of sand and heat, of harsh cries in a foreign tongue to unknown gods. Oh yes, the door slamming person.

Lee, turn around and see who is behind you.

God, I really don’t think I can handle anybody bigger than Adam The Giant. I glance over my shoulder then balk and look at the floor by my sneaker clad feet, blinking a few times. Seriously? The pale one behind me looks like one of the men you see gracing the front cover of a romance novel. Tall, chiselled cheekbones, long dark hair, and expressive eyes. His hair is drawn back into a ponytail with a leather tie, making his features that much more severe. I’m fascinated! I take another quick look. His skin! It’s the colour of creamy coffee, and yet, the tone is cool, as if he had been de-saturated of warmer colours. He isn’t as big as Adam, thankfully, but he is pretty damn close. Place two of me side by side and my shoulder span still wouldn’t match his. Though he is taller than me, he is not too tall; his legs are shorter than the norm for a man his size, I think, though this is disguised by black harem pants. He wears only a sleeveless black jacket with a thick waist cinching leather belt, which makes him look like a ninja off of Street Fighter, or something.

He walks, or rather stalks, up to Iain, still waiting for an explanation to his earlier question. The younger man watches me, taking in my evaluation of the Middle Eastern man, but now he turns to him and says, “No one’s fighting. Adam and Simone were going at it again, but ‘tis fine. Ben is talking to them.” He motions to me. “She’s his woman. Bonnie, eh? She’s been left in our care until he returns.”

Hey! Though you speak of protection, I feel like that was some kind of insult, Iain, you cheeky bugger. Ben’s consort has a name.

The Middle Eastern man regards me hard for a moment, like I’m a complicated puzzle, or a figment of his imagination. His nostrils flare and I realize he’s seeking Ben’s scent on me. He straightens, and no longer looks at me like I’m fair game. “I am Afzal,” he barks.

I blink, hold back the urge to tell him to lower the volume some, and nod my head respectfully. There is no Ben to protect me right now. I must watch myself and my mouth. “I’m Lee. This is a lovely restaurant. Ben has told me your food is wonderful, I’m looking forward to trying some.”

Afzal cocks his head, and like sunshine from behind the clouds, his mean looking face is transformed into one of exotic beauty and elation. He slams a meaty palm to his half exposed chest. “My food is the best. Come.”

He grabs my forearm and drags me behind him. Literally, he drags me. My feet slide across the floor.

I throw a panicked look over my shoulder at Iain, but he is unconcerned, following with a smile. Pulled through a doorframe into a stainless steel kitchen that gleams so brightly it blinds me, Afzal releases me and I rub my arm surreptitiously. Pots and pans bubble away, splashing, and frothing. The steam rises up into the humming extractor fan. It smells divine, spicy with citrus undertones. Oh look! My fish is served up on a fancy oval plate on a bed of couscous. It looks good. Wait. Just wait. What is that red sauce all over it? The chili? Please god let that be chili sauce sans any other red bodily fluid.

Afzal plonks a stool in front of the dish, thrusts a fork into my hand, then prods my shoulder, which effectively pushes me toward the stool. “Eat,” he commands, and leans his elbows on the sparkling surface to watch me.

I clamber up onto the stool and seat myself, my fork poised for action. I slant a look at Iain then to Afzal. I breathe out bravely and shake my head at it all. I take a dainty bite and chew slowly. Swallowing, I manage a, “Hmm.”

Beads of sweat the weight of bullets roll down my temples and my eyes flick between the two men like a metronome. I must look shifty about now, but Afzal’s fangs are quite extraordinary, the largest I have seen yet, and his hawk-like eyes are fixed on me eating his food. It tastes like ash and I’m worried I won’t be able to hide my reaction.

Lee, this is not clever, alone with two blood drinkers who do not care for you as Ben does.

Afzal does not seem to be impressed with my reaction so I shovel a larger forkful into my gob. My teeth involuntarily clamp down on the tines, scraping painfully as I drag the fork out again before thrusting it back into the food, and chewing with gusto. “Wow, um, Afzal, this is really good. What species– I mean, spices did you use?”

He glares at me. “That is my secret and you may not know it.”

I lean to the left, the opposite direction of the deadly chef, and nod emphatically. “Ah, okay. Sorry,” I blurt lamely, and look at Iain for help.

He just smiles toothily. Red liquid dribbles from his bottom lip and it’s lapped up by a sweep of his tongue. He leans back, amused gaze on me, a tumbler of fresh blood in his hand.

The chili has kicked in and my mouth is on fire. My eyes tear up and I motion for water, fanning my face with my hand.

Ben, where the hell are you?

Chapter 7 Smoke Reveals Fire

“I dinna ken … he’s chosen you,” Iain murmurs after a long silence of me chewing more couscous and Afzal watching me, watch him, watch me chew more couscous between large gulps of icy tap water.

I wave my fork at him. “Ben is going to make me like you, I hope. I’m thinking it’s more on an honour than I first realized.”

Afzal hisses. His two fists slam down on the steel surface and leave concave holes. My fork clatters to the surface top and my body lurches off the stool toward the door. Like a frightened rabbit, I bound away, but Iain catches me and locks me to his side. He pats my head. Trembling, I cling to him and try to regulate my breathing. No, their voices do not affect me as they once did, I’m getting used to that. It’s purely the fact that Afzal is gigantic, bristling, and radiating anger now, and I know enough to get the hell away from him.

“Calm down, lass. Afzal’s a wee bit passionate, ‘tis all. Can ye ease up? I don’t want yer scent over me when Ben returns.” His brows plunge. “Yer heartbeat pounds too hard. Tis tempting. It calls forth the hunting instinct, so be kind to us, hmm? Calm down.”

Be kind to them? How about they be kind to me!

Okay, deep breathing. Backing away from him, running a hand through my hair, I turn slowly with an apologetic smile for the mountainous Afzal who is glaring at me.

“Finish your food,” he commands. “It will get cold.” As he says this, he opens the lower counter cupboard and places his fists inside. With two quick thumps, he bangs the indents out of the steel. The way he does this suggests this is a regular occurrence he’s used to setting right.

I hop back onto the stool and scoop up my fork in a shaking hand. Each time I try to pick up some couscous my shaking has it falling off the tines before it can reach my mouth. I need a spoon. With a long-suffering sigh, I place the fork down and rub my face. “You all scare me, okay? I know it may seem silly to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything when you both stare at me.”

Iain chuckles and rubs my shoulder. I wish it was comforting but his hand is too cool and heavy to be normal. “We understand. I’m surprised yer still ‘ere after Daniel’s theatrics. Most would ‘ave run screaming, but there’s mettle in you. There must be, or Ben wouldn’t ‘ave looked twice let alone brought ye here to meet us.”

Rubbing my lips together, I watch Afzal closely as I say, “Adam says he would not have chosen me for Ben. He also said something about Ben telling me an important secret before he turns me. Do you know what he means?”

As I suspected, Afzal has strong feelings on this subject. His face twitches and he looks at Iain, his mouth opening. I just know he’s about to tell me what Adam meant.

I lean forward eagerly, forgetting my earlier fear.

“Och … aye,” Iain answers swiftly. “That. We willnae speak to ye about that.”

I deflate. Damn, I had thought I was going to discover whatever Ben appears to be keeping from me. Surely, I deserve to know a secret so fiercely guarded? Is it wrong of me to pump Ben’s people for information? Shouldn’t I be brave enough to ask my darling directly?

Ah, or are you afraid he won’t tell you Lee? You know what that will mean, don’t you? If you are to keep the promise you made to yourself, you must know everything before you let Ben chain you to him. Anyway, get out of your own head and pay attention. The bloodsuckers are talking!

“….and yer in no position to meddle. Ben must be the one to tell her if he wishes.”

“He will not. You know he will not, because he fears losing her. Tell me, wouldn’t you have wanted the knowledge before you were offered the choice of this life, Iain?” Afzal asks this throatily, nearly overcome with emotion, and in a surprisingly quiet voice.

Both are silent for such a long time, but there is a sudden shift of acceptance in the air, and Iain pulls up a stool to settle beside me properly.

I don’t say anything, afraid to ruin it with my mouth, so I sit meekly and wait to be spoken to, my gaze pinging between the two of them anxiously.

“Listen with care,” Iain begins in his thick burr, which deepens and lowers ominously. “I’ll say this once, ye ken?” Wide eyed, I nod. Iain places his fisted hands on the surface and stares at them. “There are eighteen generations of our kind. Adam, an Auld one, is the oldest in existence we know of. He’s over four thousand years old, but he’s not the first, and he cannot remember his Sire though he believes ‘twas a woman. There was another before her but his name is lost to time. After Adam came Heloise, Jakob, then Elaina who claimed Henry, then Damien, William, Olivia, Sarah who then turned Sebastian–”

“Who is my Sire,” Afzal interjects, reverence in his tone. “He is mated to the human, Nia.”

I barely hear him because my mind is reeling. I grip my fingers together tightly and press them to my stomach as I process such a great length of time. Four thousand years old? My god! My goodness, how was that even possible! Adam was born Anno Domini. Pulling myself together, I centre my attention back on what Iain had said; I did promise I would pay attention. Sebastian…? Hmm … no image comes to mind. I do remember the delicate redhead who fainted was called Nia. Ah, I remember Sebastian; he is the one with the kind face, and the murky blue eyes. I nod slowly, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and overwhelmed. These people are so close knitted, so interlinked, no wonder they may react with hostility when someone new enters their world. “Okay, I’m following you, I think. After that?”

“I chose Iain,” Afzal finishes then walks back to tend to his bubbling pots of food.

“Aye, he did,” Iain continues in a level voice. “Afzal’s my Sire, and one of the greatest men I ‘ave the honour of knowing.” The big man flinches for the briefest of seconds before he continues to focus his attentions on his cooking. Iain looks up from his fists at me, his bottle green eyes intense. “I sired Simone who turned Anya, and ‘twas she who chose Daniel. Then came the reigning Child, Ben.” He pauses. “Now, the time has passed, and Ben is to choose his protégée.”

“Me,” I whisper.

Iain inclines his head. “Aye.” Then he smirks, his eyes twinkling teasingly. “Glaikit.”

I worry my lip and think hard on what I’ve learned. “Ben is the youngest, a child in your eyes, someone to protect. I get that. A bloodline so old, eighteen generations past is something worth protect–”

“No!” Afzal barks and spins around marching up to me. His beefy hand slaps the countertop and my abandoned plate of food jumps a foot in the air to land with a horrible clatter. “You misunderstand. You are not listening!”

“What happens here?” Simone’s guttural voice cuts through the room like a blade of steel. Both Iain and Afzal retreat from me in a blink, standing beside each other on the other side of the room guiltily. Simone glides into the kitchen; her smoky dress fluttering behind her in an unfelt wind, even her cornflower blonde hair flickers behind her. She arches one slender brow at my dishevelled appearance and my scattered dinner. “All is not well in here?”

Slipping off my stool, I try to look around her expecting Ben to follow in her wake. “I’m fine. Where’s Ben?”

“Wie bitte? Ah, entschuldigung. Hier ist mit mein schatz,” she answers. Her lips pinch in frustration when my expression remains blank. “With Adam. They are in … disagreement.”

I frown, images of Adam and Ben clashing come to mind. “Disagreement isn’t another way to say fighting is it?”

The three of them laugh. I wince. I’m used to them talking; shouting and laughing is another thing. These emotional outbursts have the beings injecting more force and power into their voices.

“If our kind fought you would know about it,” Simone says in amusement. “None would be stupid enough to lift a hand to the Child. Fear not, right now, Ben is the safest being on this earth.” Biting back a huff of irritation, I cannot help but drop my hip, and tap my foot once. All the cryptic mentions are getting to me. It’s bloody frustrating, not to mention rude, no matter how ancient and powerful they are. Simone steps aside and motions to the restaurant. “I sense you become weary of us.”

Ouch, Lee, looks like she’s had about enough of you too.

Giving her a curt nod, I smile at Iain and Afzal. I feel compelled to defend them. Though Iain sired Simone, I have a feeling certain topics are dealt with as equals, this secret being one of them. I throw over my shoulder at Simone, “They didn’t tell me anything.”

“Natürlich,” she murmurs.

Walking through the restaurant, I note that it’s now empty. Wow, I really know how to ruin a good evening, huh? What about all the food Afzal is cooking? The attendant hands me my sweater and I take it from him with a murmured thanks. Politely, he opens the door for me, and I step out into street to watch as Adam and Ben abruptly stop talking, and both turn to me.

I can’t help but look at Adam in a new light. This man predates the birth of Christ by millennia. I wonder where he was born and all the things he has seen come then fade to legend. How terrifying. How fascinating. How did he stay so upbeat and interested? Is he not bored of simply being? Would he ever let me cuddle him?

I spend a good minute staring at him before he cocks his head, light blonde hair spilling over his shoulder. He smiles and pats Ben’s shoulder. “Tell her,” he says softly then dips his head at me before going back inside, no doubt to find Simone.

My eyes finally find Ben whose face is turned to the sky, eyes are closed. ‘Walk with me,’ he thinks. We do, side by side, arms and fingers brushing. I ache to entwine my fingers with his, but dare not whilst he is in such a dark mood. ‘Ask. I know you want to so let us be done with it.’

I jerk and rub my sweaty palms on my hips. Why so abrupt and harsh? Did he know I was looking for answers from his people? Or had he seen in my mind all that had transpired and is angered by it? Maybe it’s not all about me, maybe the pressure from his people is too much to bear. I take a deep breath mentally, bracing myself for what he is going to say, and by his quick smile, I know he heard or felt it. “Why did Daniel react so…?”

‘Dramatically?’

I smile. “That’ll do. I don’t understand why he has such a problem with me when he’s only just met me. The others seem to be fine. I assume it has to do with your bloodline and keeping it pure, or something. If I’m honest I don’t even understand that, because it’s clear to me none of you are related, you are all born in different times, so I can’t understand why me joining your family would cause a problem.”

His fingers reach out and brush over the back of my hand. My feet want to stumble, but I force my stride not to falter.

‘I will tell you everything. I promise. Afterwards.’

Ah, so this was his decision. Despite Adam’s plea for him to tell me this big secret, Ben was deciding to keep the reasoning for Afzal’s distress, and Daniel’s dislike of me to himself. I stop dead and he takes another two steps before turning to face me. How could he ask this of me? Why would he? He had shown me things others would not dare to dream in the most frightful of nightmares, yet, he would not reveal this one thing that may or may not be the deciding factor if I stayed with him forever?

In my mind I choke. He cannot do this.

‘I already have. I cannot tell you until you have turned.’

“Why are you doing this?” I ask and step closer to him. He moves back. Furious now, I close the distance between us and clasp his head then grip his shirt because he shrugs me away, and blink away the tears gathering in my eyes. No, no, no, he cannot choose this! He pulls away with little effort, but I cling to him and struggle to get him to hold me. “Are you telling me you give this up?”

‘I cannot–’

“Open your mouth and speak,” I shriek. Hearing myself, I cool and straighten, letting my hands fall from him to hang limp at my sides. “As you reject me, at least have enough respect to speak the words.”

“You reject me,” he counters in his unfathomable voice. It reverberates through my skull.

I shake off the power and focus on his eyes, beseeching him. “You know I won’t do this without knowing everything. So please, tell me.”

‘My bride–’

I slam my fist to his chest. “Damn you, Ben, say the words!”

‘No. It hurts you.’ He touches a fingertip to my face and softly traces the curve of my cheek.

I still, look him in the eyes. You’re breaking my heart. Ben, whatever this is, it can’t touch us. Tell me.

He flinches. Ben’s dark eyes are anguished, pained even, but resolved. This is worse than a death knell. Ben is as stubborn as me.

There is nothing else, is there? This is it. He will not bend and I cannot. I can’t become like him without knowing the cost. The feeding is something I’m willing to accept, but if there is more I have to know. I’m ready to give him everything, but surely, it’s fair to know exactly what I’m getting myself into before there is no way out? Such a leap of faith! I’ve known him days not years, and though he means more to me than any other before him, how can I in good conscience simply offer everything I am whilst doubting the future? If this is his choice, fine, I’ve made mine.

I take one last look at his face and wrap my arms around myself. My eyes drift closed, and a tear runs down my cheek. If you cannot trust me then you must leave.

I hear him sob, feel his cheek rub against mine, then nothing.

Oh god, so fast.

I open my eyes and I’m alone.

He is gone. Just like that? Did he have no words to try and convince me to change my mind? No grand speech to beg me to reconsider? Am I that expendable he can toss me aside so easily? Falling to the ground, my legs unable to manage the weight of his loss, I cry like I’ve never cried before.

Yes, to love so deeply and quickly, and for it all to collapse equally fast is a difficult thing.

I’m weeping when a couple find me and call the police, working themselves into a fitful state, fearful I’ve been attacked. I’m alone down a secluded London street, in a crumpled heap on the cold ground, crying, after all. It takes much coaxing from the nice policeman who arrives sometime later to get me to stand up and speak. He makes me take a breathalyzer test and checks to make sure I’ve no illnesses disabling me. Quite soon, he realizes I’ve suffered an emotional trauma, and through my demented babblings he discovers I’ve been left here by a man, and swiftly concludes I’ve been through a rough breakup. When he tries to put me in a taxi to drive me home, I snap out of it, and assure him I’m fine. During his appeal that I should go home, I agree with him silently, and wander off mid conversation. I hope he can forgive me my rudeness. He cannot help me; no one can.

I gave my heart to Vampire, and he refused to keep it.

Lee, you said it! The word you couldn’t even think of before, you’ve said it!

On autopilot, I duck into a newsagents, buy a bottle of vodka, slide a crumbled ten-pound note over the counter to the man, and find a tube station. On the train, I get heckled by a group of boys who’ve buttoned their pastel polo shirts right up (isn’t that uncomfortable?), and combed their hair to one side. Ah look, how quickly they lose interest after catching a good look at my blotchy face. What, a hysterically crying woman too much for you? I also get looked at funny for drinking from a bottle of vodka on the train, now illegal on the tube, but what do I care?

At first, I’m on the wrong train, and halfway to Ealing Broadway I realize and get off. Ooops! I’m having a dangerous moment on the overhead pass, these railings really are quite thin aren’t they. Hmmm. Back on a train, I’m curled up on one of the seats, my head tucked into my shoulder as I cry.

The horrible thing? I swear I feel Ben nearby. Each time I look up there is no one close to his description, but I feel him.

Can you, Lee? Are you sure that is not merely your brain trying to make you feel better?

Stumbling into my flat, I try to slam the door closed, but it just isn’t working. Damn you door! The vodka bottle in my hands is not helping matters, I guess, but at least it’s lighter now I’ve consumed so much of it … seeing double is not helping either. Everything feels numb but the organ in my chest, that still hurts like a motherfucker. Maybe I should call Bethany? She will know how to comfort me.

“I would give him my heart,” I mumble, patting my pocket for my phone. “He could take my blood and I would beg him to drink more to feel him close to me.” Not finding the phone, I sigh, and take another swig from the bottle, because the knowledge I would rather be his food if I cannot be his love reminds me how mental I am. “But only if he was honest,” I finish decidedly. “I’ve a thing about honesty.”

“Really?”

I swing round and take in the tall figure standing in the middle of my sitting room. It’s still dark, and I see nothing but a vague outline that blurs out of focus. I squint and puff out my cheeks. Ick, that did not make me feel good; the room is spinning. I blink slowly, trying to concentrate. Ben? No, no this man is too tall and slender to be my darling.

“You’re not Ben,” I manage, confused.

Lightning flashes outside and thunder is a few moments away. The heavens open and it rains, huge droplets bouncing off the windows. Another flash of lightning and the stranger is suddenly half a step away from me and I stumble on the spot.

Okay, Lee, you need to put the bottle of booze down and wake up right now. Danger, do you understand? He is an enemy!

My fingers spasm but I’m unable to drop the bottle. I can’t feel my limbs anymore. Oh well, looks like I’m holding onto the bottle. I shake my head at myself and sway.

The stranger leans closer and sniffs me. “Are you upset? Did Child Ben hurt you?” The shadow cocoons me in his arms and his strokes his hands down my back. “You poor, poor girl. I know that it hurts but no … no you don’t want to know.”

I frown and swipe at his shoulder. “Tell me. I deserve to know the truth. To know everything.”

“Well….” The stranger sighs and looks away. It’s then I see his profile and through the haze I remember him.

“Daniel?” I whisper.

“Yes, I’m here for you. I’ll take the pain away, Lee. Don’t you want the pain to stop?”

I push away from him and angle my head away. “You shouldn’t be here. Ben will be mad.”

“Ben? But didn’t he leave you all alone? Didn’t he abandon you when he said that he wanted you forever?” His voice sounds bitter. “It is cruel when someone promises forever and lies, isn’t it? I feel your pain. I will be trapped with mine for an eternity.”

His voice is compelling. I’ve stopped struggling and watch his face with wide eyes. There is pain there and such feeling. Who does he speak of I wonder? When I met him earlier, I’d assumed he was the Bad Guy of Ben’s people, but now, I’m not sure. Daniel sounds like me, a cast off. Someone who was promised everything by someone he loved only to have it cruelly snatched away from him.

“Such pain,” he finishes on a sigh. Looking down at me, eyes glinting in the darkness, he gives a small smile and the tips of his fangs are exposed. He leans closer and breaths in deep. “You don’t have to suffer like me, Lee. I can make everything better.”

“You can?” I mumble, and slouch in his embrace. Honestly, I’m relieved he may have an answer to the rather large issue of my world falling apart.

“Oh yes.” He moves even closer, his arms tightening. “All you have to do is relax and … try not to scream too loudly.”

Relax? I can do that and … wait … scream?

A thunderous roar rings loud in my ears. My legs give out and the world cuts to black. Somehow I’m free of his embrace and keel over like a felled tree: the side of my head smacking the coffee table, shunting me in the other direction. Everything vibrates. I fall onto my side and my bottom lip explodes in pain. Sobbing, I roll over and taste blood.

Sprawled on my back, above me Daniel is locked in combat with … Ben? Oh gosh Ben, you came back! Darling. Ugh, I can’t move. My hands are still clamped around the damn vodka bottle though.

Daniel flying across the room to crash through the wall into my bedroom swiftly follows with pained grunting.

“Look at me,” a voice pleads.

No Ben, too loud, the power of your voice is too much!

‘My bride, please look at me.’

I swivel my eyes wildly until they snag on his pained face. He curls me into him, pressing kisses to my cheeks, my lips, chin, and forehead, all the while talking to me in my mind: soothing promises that I’m safe and that he has me.

“Ben!” Daniel roars.

Once again, I fly through the air as Daniel slams into Ben’s back and sends us hurtling across the room. We land in a heap, but Ben curls his arm around my head to stop me bashing it. He pushes me from him. ‘Go,’ he thinks at me and lunges up to clash with Daniel, fists flying, legs braced.

Lee, get up and move your fat ass!

Pulling from deep within, I lurch up onto my hands and knees and crawl. I ignore the sounds of pain and destruction from the powerful beings fighting in my living room come diving room, and make it to the front door, which is ajar. I slide out into the hallway. My next-door neighbour peeks at me from behind a baseball bat bigger than her.

“Ms Chang,” I rasp, still crawling, my arms aching. “Go back inside your house and lock the door.”

“I call police,” the tiny Chinese woman whispers and disappears in a swirl of purple silk.

“Wait,” I cry, panicked. “Ms Chang, wait!”

I can’t keep going. My arms fail me and I lie down breathing heavily. My eyelids droop, and I close them for a second, promising myself I will open them again. My whole body goes lax. Oh, it feels nice to lie here.

A sharp and foul smell is thrust under my nose and a blunt slap on my cheek has my eyes popping open.

“Now is not time to sleep,” Ms Chang scolds, her hair rollers bouncing madly and her half-moon spectacles slip low down the flat bridge of her nose. Dragging me across the hallway floor by my arm, her small slipper clad feet look like those of a mechanical doll. “You wake up now, young lady Lee, or those bad men will hurt you more. Come inside. I call police.”

My top rides up my torso as Ms Chang drags me and I get carpet burn on my stomach. She clutches a bottle of smelling salts, I clutch the bottle of vodka, and from the sounds and vibrations coming from my flat, Ben and Daniel will bring the whole block down on our heads. The world is going to hell and … oh crap, I’m going to puke. I roll over and spew sick up the wall, the alcohol ejecting from my system in violent retches. I swear, never again. I’m never drinking as a way to solve my problems ever.

Two pairs of feet – one super size and booted, the other dainty and clad in ballet pumps –  step into my line of sight. Ms Chang has a meltdown beside me, screaming she has called the police.

“I’ll get Child Ben. Protect Lee, mein schatz,” a female voice says, a gust of air signalling her exit.

I look up, and up, and up until I see Adam’s bushy bearded face smiling down at me. I whimper in pain and misery. I’m too exhausted to feel afraid of him. Okay, I lie, I feel a dart of alarm for the huge bloodsucker, but that is natural, right?

He chuckles. “Do not worry, Petite One. They will work it out. There is always something for those two to fight over. Usually, Ben walks away, but he is attached to you. I am not surprised. Our matches are permanent.”

I hold up my hand, expression desolate. “Take the bottle please. It’s welded to my palm.”

Adam plucks the bottle from me and hands it over to Ms Chang who swipes hair off my bloody face.

“You are a bad man,” she shouts. Popping up like a jack in the box, surprisingly spry, she smashes the vodka bottle over his head. Adam does not flinch, merely flicks a chunk of glass off his broad shoulder. Ms Chang mutters something fretfully in Mandarin, prayer-like, then shrieks, “You leave us alone. I call police.”

“So you said,” Adam replies in a kind voice.

He picks her up by the upper arms, like she’s a sticky child he doesn’t want to hurt, but has no emotional investment in. He places her down inside her door, all the while focusing on her eyes. Ms Chang stills, turns, and closes her door behind her.

Ben comes out into the hallway looking mean and terrifyingly angry. Instead of his trench coat ensemble, he’s wearing black biker leathers. He paces over and looks at the puddle of puke then back to me.

“It is either concussion, fear, or simply too much of a good thing,” Adam assures him. “Or maybe a little bit of all three. Her wounds are superficial, nothing fatal, she is fine.”

“Only because I came when I did. Had I not happened to look in her window to check on her….” He trails off thinking of what might have happened.

“But you did and all is fine.”

There is a loud thump and the wall opposite bloats. It happens again a millisecond later.

“You left him in there with Simone?” Adam laughs. “She will not go easy on him.”

“Good,” Ben replies shortly. By now, my head is about to pop off. I think the sole reason I’ve not passed out is because the alcohol is distorting everything and so the power of Ben’s voice is muted somewhat. “I am going to turn her tonight.”

“I thought–”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He will kill her the moment my back is turned. It is this or nothing, for all of us.”

“I see. Well then, go Child. Simone and I will finish here then meet you at Castle to check for his followers. We shall gather the others after you arrive. You will be protected until you can address Daniel’s actions against you personally. For now, he will be lucky if I convince Simone not to kill him. Go safely.” Adam picks me up gently and places me in Ben’s arms. “I bid you goodnight, Petite One.”

Then he is gone, and another, louder bang is heard from my flat.

As Ben and I pass Ms Chang’s door I hear her laughing to a late night television show. Oh, such a brave and kind old lady, to help me in the face of such scary monsters. “Thank you Ms Chang,” I whisper, before the darkness pulls me under.

God, thank you, I really need some sleep.

Chapter 8 Ben Takes Lee Home

Ben’s bike coasts to a stop and he kills the engine. I tug my helmet off and shake out my hair. My face is still tender from where I hit the coffee table, but the three aspirin helped a lot. It’s amazing the level of beating the human body can withstand.

Hmm. A field. Is this it? Ah, but am I missing the delicious gift Ben offers? If so, I’m thrilled by this surprise, and no matter how achy I am, I will not turn him down.

He has been quiet since his rescue of me earlier. He’s not happy, extremely unhappy, actually. I’m just relieved to have him within arm’s reach again to be honest. I guess I have to take back what I’ve promised myself, huh? Surely, no matter what he keeps secret, it cannot be as bad as having to try to function and live without him.

Well, Lee, looks like you are willing to take that chance.

The inky sky is sprinkled with stars, and a picturesque waning moon. Wind whips through the long grass, rippling the fine strands and wild flowers, which give off a sweet scent. Combine that with Ben’s spicy musk and I’m a happy girl. Will we make love under the stars? Will he feast on me until I come? Oh love. I lean into him and wrap my hands around his trim waist.

For the first time in what seems such a long time, Ben chuckles, and rubs the back of my hand with his own. He gets off the bike and picks me up, carrying me in his arms. I like this look on him. Black leather, sleek black helmet, black boots. I know beneath this get up his eyes will be a kaleidoscope of dark browns with flecks of gold and hazel. His nostrils will flare and his eyes flux when he smells my arousal, and his own lust will rise like a tide to consume him before he consumes me. Can he feel my passion, the need that burns in the core of me? Even after all we’d been through tonight I want him more than I’ll ever reasonably explain.

I open my thoughts to him, my mind, my body to show him how much he means to me, and I feel him stiffen and pull back mentally. This makes me sad and I pat the side of his helmet. Still, after everything, he hides from me.

I feel his shock that I felt him distance himself from me and his immediate apology. ‘We’re home.’

Home? Ah, the field. I pause mentally. The meadow is pretty, but can I live in grass? I understand my needs when I became like him will be different, but surely we need a roof and four walls? A place to shower and a bed to love each other in. I flush. I could love him anywhere, and the very idea of him sliding inside of me for the first time is too strong to block; too urgent to not have my entire body heating.

He feels it, hears me, and his hold tightens. Mmm. I like it when he holds me this tightly. His desire is dammed behind a rock solid wall of determination, I think. I remember this mental barricade from the first time I entered his mind uninvited, carried over it by our combined pleasure. I will have fun breaking it and bringing him to his knees.

Oh yes, I will break you, Ben. Your walls will tumble when I decide I no longer wish them in my way.

His reaction is to reinforce said iron will, but he doesn’t caution me to back off. ‘Open your eyes, love. Open them wide.’

Luckily, I understand Ben, and so rather than retorting that my eyes are already open, I open myself fully, and gaze around inquisitively. There’s a tingling at the corner of my eyeballs, and the air bends as if I look through a glass fishbowl. The field wobbles. Akin to melted wax, the air becomes lucent and oozes into nonexistence to leave behind a … castle!

I place a hand on Ben’s chest and he stops. I’m grateful he understands my every whim. He sets me down, his hands holding mine tenderly needing to stay connected. I exhale in a whoosh and accept what I see like I accepted Ben’s arrival in my life.

The fortified structure is made of gloomy stone, with curtain walls and arrow slits. I’d first thought the field backed onto the ocean, I see the castle is built onto a natural rocky motte, cutting into the cliff face. Holy mother! The noise as the waves crash upon the structure’s sea face is as beautiful as it is terrifying. There is a curved four-storey flat-topped Keep on the west side. On the east side there is another tower equal in size, though capped with a conical roof and metal spiral. The wooden front doors, the portcullis raised, stand four men wide and two deep, and we must cross an arched bridge over a moat of frothing seawater to reach them.

‘I was a feudal lord,’ Ben thinks at me by way of explanation for this castle’s presence. ‘I was made a man too young, and Daniel took me soon after this fortress became my domain.’

Holy hell, Lee. I will not claim to know much about history, or the heritage of English soil, but I’ve never heard of this place. It’s too magnificent for the history books to simply forget. Did he conquer this or something? How much do you know about feudal lords of the seventeenth century?

‘We … drank those who once worked here and hid the castle from view.’ Again, I wait, and think. From all but those who know it’s there? That is some achievement. ‘From humans. Lycanthropes and others of my kind can see.’

I spin to him and clutch the front of his jacket in my fist. It creaks as my nails dig in. “Werewolves?” I demand breathlessly. He nods and the moonlight bounces off the side of his helmet. “Where?” He points to the left to the forest. My eyes must be like saucers.

‘Castle sits on the cusp of the boundary line. I own this land. Past that tree line the territory becomes theirs. Remember that.’ He caresses the side of my face. ‘Always remember that you cannot cross that line.’

I’m naturally curious and despite Ben’s obvious distress at the mention of me stepping a toe past that boundary, I find myself compelled to see what lies in the midst of those tress. My body leans forward. A little peek? I’m human at the moment. Surely, they will not harm me.

Oh, ah. Ben’s grip on my hand is quite painful now. ‘You smell like me.’ He strokes my neck. ‘You bear my bite. You are marked as my bride.’ He takes off his helmet. His pupils contract to a splinter of black. “They would hurt you.” The whisper makes my eardrums vibrate and my heart thump.

I can’t wait to hear him speak to me without the frailty of my human ears forcing him to hold back his power.

Oh, I’ve not forgotten how you tried to control me, love. So, I’m readying myself to respond for Independent Women everywhere with a, “I will do whatever I like, you don’t own me,” speech, but the castle doors shudder open. This captures my total attention. If I was a puppy, my ears would be pointy and swivelling around in curiosity.

Adam and Simone step out and hold up their hands in greeting. They look a tad frazzled though; even from here I see rips in their clothing and blood spatters.

“How did they get here before us?” I ask.

Ben’s mind brushes against mine enamoured with my ignorance. ‘We move fast and I was in no hurry to bring you here.’ The end of that thought is grieved, and I entwine my fingers with his for comfort. ‘Honestly, love, I was going to respect your wishes, but Daniel has made it clear he will not risk me turning you. I have no choice.’

I say nothing. I understand. And I was not going to fight him on this. If I had to choose between death and Ben, I choose Ben, hands down.

Adam and Simone drift forward. They still have things to do? Nodding at us, they blur into ghostlike streaks, and are gone. I shiver staring at the empty road they disappeared down; trying to see through the fog, but obviously, I see nothing.

Okay, I’m trying to be comfortable, but it’s … difficult. I’m used to my cosy, boxy, purpose built studio. This place is colossal. My steps echo on the flagstone floor and the cavernous entryway is spectacular. A stained glass window takes up half the wall opposite and moonlight drifts through the depictions of horses thundering through fields of gold, maidens frolicking in lakes, and great lords hewing down their enemies with great swords and lances; their banners held high and waved as if caught in a high gale. The cliffs are behind this window and I see out to the turbulent water and the storm clouds, and my breath is stolen. Full suits of armour flank the climbing stairway that curves on both sides until it meets in the middle under the glass window; where one can stand on the platform and take in the magnificent view from higher, should one wish. The stairways also lead off to the west and east.

Ben turns me in the direction of east and gives my bottom a little push. I climb the stairs, letting my hand brush over the smooth stone handrail, and when I reach the top I grin at the torches that flicker with real candles. The artwork on the walls is magical and I’m diverted for quite a while. I am an artiste after all. I laugh and have to school myself quite harshly not to rub my fingers all over these masterpieces, just to feel them, to see if they are really real.

I sense time is against us and I move on. The whole while, Ben is behind me radiating sorrow and yet so much hope I’m sure if I was to harness it I could out power the sun. Room after room I circle, in awe of what I see.

Pivoting on my heel, walking backward I ask him, “All of this is yours?”

Hand briefly fluttering over a white marble bust of an older man that looks suspiciously like him, but with a broader nose, he nods.

I spin back round, my hair flying. I tuck it behind my ears and carry on, my lips rubbing together. I need some chap stick. Perturbed, I walk throughout the building and each room is more grandiose and magnificent than the last.

Why does Ben have all this stuff? He does not seem the kind to covet possessions. Yes, he was a feudal lord and that might explain why he has some wealth now, but there appears to be more to this. Daniel openly mocked our relationship but did not outright defy Ben. When my love made his displeasure known, Daniel backed off. The younger we are, the more powerful we are? Is that it? I bite my lip. No, instinctively I know that’s not right. With age would come wisdom and strength, not weakness. So why did Daniel defer to Ben so? He made Ben into what he is, so shouldn’t Ben be his underling? Was this all part of the big secret Ben will not tell me until I am like him? Probably.

I come upon the bedroom at the top of tower, and now I’m sure I am hallucinating, because this kind of thing only happens in the dreams of princesses as they slumber.

The floor is covered in dark, rich soil. The chandelier lights are off, but the room is bathed in a warm glow by hundreds of tea lights scattered across the floor. The fireplace smoulders, emitting a gentle heat into the room. Dotted in between the twinkling flames are mounds of dark earth and rosebushes, lavender, and other wildflowers.

Did he plant an entire garden inside this room? What on earth for? Little me?

‘Yes.’ Ben thinks and it sounds like maybe he feels the whole thing is trying too hard. ‘I was prepared to bring you here if you accepted me.’

In the centre of the room is a cast iron bed, the foot pointing toward the fireplace. Wreathes of gossamer silk are draped over the high posts, intricately gilded with bronze flora. The sheets are crisp white and shadows flicker over the coverlet. This is the only furniture in the room.

Toeing my sneakers off, I take my first step into the room. I stop; the soil is cool beneath my feet, soft, and almost fluffy. I wiggle my toes and the black grains tumble over the top arch of my foot and pool around my ankle.

Lee, how magical is this place, and this man. You are being blessed right now did you know that?

I look over my shoulder at Ben. His eyes sparkle from the shadows, and I’m overcome with emotion. He is so handsome. He leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, and tries to compose his face to blank but apprehension fights to break free. I raise an eyebrow. Is he trying to seduce me then? Is this delightful display not effortless for him?

He ducks his head. Oh, darling! Is that dusky rose flushing across your cheekbones a genuine blush?

“It’s working,” I assure him, and step fully into the room, knowing that when I leave it again I’ll no longer be who I am. See how my movement is sure and how my hands do not shake, nor my frame tremble. I’m Ben’s mate, his love, and I make sure my pride is reflected in my gait. I’m to be his equal, his one and only, so my chin is lifted high and my back straight.

The glass double doors at the far edge of the room are closed, a gauzy curtain hanging in front of it, not dense enough to block out the lunar light that drifts in through the arched window. I see the outline of a balcony, but the pull of curiosity is not strong enough to divert me from my path to the bed. I crawl onto the yielding mattress and fall onto my back, the opulence bringing a whimper to my lips. It smells sweetly of roses, a heaven to die on, I think. I close my eyes and inhale measurably to still the rising panic. It’s natural to fear pain and loss, but it’s not enough to stop me from joining Ben. Thank goodness for that. To come this far and turn back might have ended up destroying us both.

‘This is your last chance.’ Ben’s words echo in my mind, hollow with despair. ‘Maybe … maybe we can think of something else.’

I sit up and am so very cross with him. This night will be difficult for both of us and he’s making it worse. The time for maudlin reflection is over. I’ve seen it all – what kind of fiend he is – I know … most of what there is to know about my new life. He stands before me, stone still, expression pained as he tries to make me understand. Well, can you not understand me? You can be a monster to everyone else, a terror, a horror, but to me, you are home and safety.

I take his hand and bring it to my lips. What would he have me do? It wasn’t like I could live without him now. Not only did his Sire wish me dead, as I said before, not being together would destroy us. I refuse to be in this world knowing he is out there, mourning the loss of me.

No, this is how it should be. I will be with you. That is all there is and will be for me, alright?

‘I am selfish.’

I shrug. “So am I.”

“You will no longer know the feel of sunlight though its smell will taunt you on the skin of prey,” he says harshly. “You will forget nothing. Knowledge of this magnitude is a torment I cannot explain.”

I wince. His words carry enough power to have an uncomfortable pounding start in my temples. Unable to say what I suspect he wants me to, I repeat my important question out loud. “What would you have me do?” My voice is raspy from emotion.

“Leave me.” He speaks, and I know though it kills him to say so, he wants me to take him seriously. “Leave the country. Run as far from me as you possibly can and I will bring Daniel close to me so he cannot harm you. I will forbid it.” Maybe if I had not decided he was my destiny I’d listen with the intention of obeying him. I’ve chosen, love. I accept what is to be our future together, and I’m ready for it to begin, for this chapter of my life to be over.

“Please,” he whispers urgently.

Another wince from me. “No,” I murmur back, tears in my eyes. “So stop asking, it hurts me.”

He moves, startling me since he had stood so still. He kisses my check, catching the tears that stream down my face. I’m not weak, but the thought of losing him is enough to break me, to shake me to my core.

‘You cry for me. Will you still when the tears are bloody?’

Damn it, why can he not see if I’m in his arms, and he is safe, I will never have need to cry again? Well, I’m over it, done with this conversation. With steady hands, I hook my fingers under the hem of his tee shirt, and rising onto my knees draw it over his head. I place my palms on the muscular plane of his chest and gaze into his eyes.

I am ready.

‘The transformation will be quick,’ Ben thinks. ‘Do you wish to know what will happen?’

I hesitate.

Think carefully, Lee. Do want to know what pain is to come, or will you deal with it better if it simply surprises you?

“Don’t tell me,” I say in a rush. “Just do it.”

He cocks his head and pushes his love for me behind a steely veneer of ice. ‘As you wish.’

Chapter 9 The Tender Birth Of A Neophyte

Oomph! I’m flat on my back. Ben pushed me so hard the air left my lungs, and I’ve bitten my own tongue. His legs pin mine to the bed, one hand holds both my arms above my head in a vice like grip. Okay, do not panic. Gah! Snarling, Ben is snarling, and his mouth is open, and, oh my god, his fangs look terrifying right now. He jerks down and I jump in my skin and tremble a little.

“This will hurt,” he murmurs darkly. “A lot.”

He’s not my Ben anymore. A brute has consumed his flesh and his body is no longer my haven, but demon spawn sent to punish me. I inhale on a gasp, in shock, terror. I think I see hell in his eyes. I scream, but his hand covers my mouth and my head is pushed roughly to the side, tilted to expose my throat. Ben hisses as he bites my throat, snarling as he clamps down. The crunch of cartilage punctures the edgy silence. My heart beats too hard, my fright too great, and I faint from panic alone. Another flex of his jaw is like shock paddles, and I’m back, lucid in agony. I scream louder, my throat raw from the horror-struck sounds of my fear being muffled by Ben’s palm. My back arches at the pain radiating from my neck; pushing me closer to my assailant who clutches me tighter, lifting my torso from the mattress.

I can’t help it, my body revolts and tries to wriggle away, but he holds me and drinks, feeding from me with starved delight.

I wanted this?

Yes, you asked for this, begged for it, remember, Lee?

My scream cuts off on a gurgle – there is no air left in my lungs. I drag in another half breath, only managing a sharp squeak before I’m hyperventilating. My fingertips and toes tingle before going numb. The numbness spreads, preceded by what feels like knife tips jabbing my skin. Lightheaded, I twitch uncontrollably.

Ben sucks, long and hard, drawing blood from deep within. I stop moving. Am I nearly done? There is light in this darkness, and I cling to the thought I wanted this. Yes, there is pain but my gain is Ben, forever.

Come on, Lee, you can do this.

What is that crunching…?

My windpipe collapses under the pressure, but by this time, I only recognize the body part no longer functions, I cannot feel it.

Ben releases his punishing grip on me and I fall in an ungainly sprawl. When my back hits the mattress, my head lolls to the side, which is annoying because now all I see is the wall. The faded paint has peeled away revealing stone underneath. I cough, my chest heaving. Everything is blurry, the candlelight dim smudges in the dark.

Ben growls – struggling with something? I try to understand what’s happening outside my own body’s messed state. Oh no! Sobs tear from my love, and I want so badly to wrap my arms around him and gather him close, to whisper in his midnight hair that I understand what’s happening and that I forgive him. Maybe I should’ve asked for details before I let him turn me. This feeding is considerably different from what he has shown me, but how could he have shown me what this was going to be like?

Oh, see how you miss the point. Lee, focus and think! Ben can hear your thoughts.

Did I renounce him and our love at any point? Uh, I don’t think so. He knows I’m in this for the long run. I want to turn to him, to help him with the doubt he fights, but I simply cannot move. Sorry love, you have to battle this one on your own. My neck burns, my mouth is horribly dry, and I’m sure Ben got too carried away and ripped my limbs off. I no longer feel them.

My heart stutters, trying to keep going. How frustrating. The longer this takes, the longer I’m in pain. Ah, Ben, you need to change me now or it will be too late. My heart needs to stop completely but I’m thinking there needs to be a blood exchange before then. I try to move my lips to form his name, but I cannot feel them, and who knew feeling your lips move helped you to speak.

I think … I think I’m going to pass out, the tingling and light-headedness is increasing. Damn. My eyes slip closed, my lips move silently, so I in my head I call out a slurred, ‘B-Ben!’

Something warm presses against my mouth and nudges me. ‘Choose.’ The word echoes in my head, edged with panic.

I already have, silly for him to ask me again. Was that sardonic sigh really mine? I would never have thought I had enough energy for that. My throat is good for nothing. I couldn’t swallow if I tried. Love, do you understand? I can’t move my lips!

My head is tilted back and my eyelids crack open. Ben hovers above. How long has it been since I took a full breath of air? One minute? Two, perhaps? Over four minutes and brain cells die resulting in irreparable damage, right? Dying takes a long time. Is this why people claim to see flashes of their life? I cannot see any of mine. Then again, I’m not dying in the traditional sense, am I? I’d better not be, anyway.

Ben’s expression is lost to me as my eyesight warps. Ouch! I’ve been hit with an impression of anguish direct from him to me. Guilt rides him like a stallion mating a mare. My poor love, look at what I’m putting his soul through. He did not ask for this, for my love, yes, but not for this.

I will have to love him most thoroughly once this painful interlude is over.

Oh look, I see again. Ben is brings his pale wrist to his mouth, fangs bared, and bites down, sucking. Hmm. This part is important, I can tell. Am I supposed to be this calm so close to the end?

Ben presses his lips to mine, the ends of his thick hair tickling my forehead. A kiss. My, how sweet, but isn’t he supposed to be changing me? Wet warmth trickles into my mouth, metallic, and salty. Blood. It dribbles down and my devastated throat snaps back to place with a painful crunch. Good, I won’t miss that feeling. I swallow, a pitiful thing, an instinctive reaction to the liquid pooling deep inside me with no place to go. Ben rewards me with a stroke of his tongue. Past the pain, this gentle touch sends a zap of electric current through my frame and revives me like nothing else. I want more, another bloody kiss, so I swallow again, and this time he rewards me with a chuckle.

The blood hits my stomach and the world explodes.

I screech and convulse. Why is the pain not done with yet? I’ve already suffered and survived the part that hurt, right? Ben holds my arms down, whispering comforting things to my mind, knowing if he says the words out loud, I will go crazy. Memories slam into me from the damned that have walked the earth before me, all of them. I relive each feeding, each pleasure, and pain. Thousands of years of knowledge and emotion crash over me and I weep, scream, and writhe.

Ben kisses me, as if to draw out everything through this simple act. The action has me remembering the kisses of a hundred others and I whimper. The pleasure is excruciating, but nowhere near as heart wrenching as the pain.

Maybe if he gives me… “More,” I beg.

He keeps hold of my hands and trails kisses down my neck, brushing over the valley between the swells of my breasts. I jolt and arch further into him, seeking. He ignores me, inhales deeply, and sighs so sadly. Sliding back up he sinks his fangs into the hollow of my neck, jaws clamping painfully hard.

No! Again? I thrash. Ben, it hurts! You won’t stop? I’m nearly dead, love, you’ll drain me before I change.

‘You are strong; your body fights, but it must die, my heart, forgive me.’

His words are filled with sorrow and soothe me instantly. Still, I thrash. I’m mindless with pain, but the small doubt I struggle to keep at bay is crushed beneath the knowledge that he will never let me go.

He releases my hands only to grab my head and draw me into him. “Bite me,” he commands throatily.

My eyes pop open in wonder. It does not hurt! His voice it does not hurt my ears, instead I only hear Ben, his sweet lilt soothing my ragged nerves. I knew his voice would be amazing. I knew it.

He urges my head closer and my brows twitch into a frown. I’m too weak to roll my eyes. How does he expect me to bite him?

Lee, that prickling in your upper gums, what is that?

My tongue explores my mouth as the pricking becomes more pronounced and my mouth heats as if I’ve eaten a chili. My canines lengthen and the teeth either side change shape too.

Without realizing, I’ve taken hold of Ben’s shoulder in a claw-like grip, and my other hand wraps around his waist. Oh, yes, his body is mine. It’s dangerous, primal strength encased in the form of man.

My eyes close and my nostrils flare. I scent something spicy. My tongue flicks over parched lips. I feel something hot. My fangs itch in my gums and burn at their cores. I hear something rushing, thundering. I taste it. Oh, I’m thirsty. I gasp for something wet and fiery to quench the hollow cavern in my middle. Hmm. Ben. I want to taste him, to sink my teeth into him and drink him in.

What! This shocks me and I resist the urges of my body, appalled at myself even as my mind tells me its natural.

My throat contracts, swelling and blocking my airway. This time, fully aware, I don’t like the sensation at all. I drop Ben and clasp both hands around my neck as my mouth opens wider and my head rocks back. Nasty choking sounds tear from my throat.

Ben clasps the back of my head and pushes himself on me. “You must drink! It will pass, I promise, the pain will pass. Drink, and finish this.” His arm rubs against my lips, tempting. “Die, my love.”

I do as he says, grabbing the first part of him I can, which happens to be his offered bicep. My jaw instinctively clamps with brute force. Skin rips. Blood gushes. My teeth slice through the firm flesh and hardened muscle. The popping sound and peppery spurt of blood that floods my mouth tastes no different to the fragrant juice that would spill from fruit flesh … had that been what I ate. Delicious. I suck harder, my tongue lapping up the liquid so I can swallow in covetous gulps. Oooh. It flows into my stomach and eases the swelling in my throat. I crawl onto him. My hand pushes his face away and my knees trample all over his lap, afraid he will pull away and deny me his life force.

Pain fractures my thoughts. Splints of memory scratch across my eyes in violent flashes that frighten me.

I throw myself back and fly off the bed to crash into the wall. It gives before I fall again, flat on my face. Hot candle wax splashes across my thigh, cheek, and shoulder. Soil sticks to my damp body, having cushioned the fall, and I squirm wanting the cruel influx of recollection to end. I have not lived these lives so why do I see them? Why do I feel them? The loose earth on my skin gifts a calming energy I cannot describe. It’s primitive, cosmic, and I sigh in relief, embracing whatever magic heals me. Another wave of intense memory tears me apart, and I’m on my back screeching.

Ben murmurs words of comfort, by my side again. Oh, darling. Help me please! I twist into him needing him close. He understands and pulls me beneath him; his hands already roam over me. “Yes,” I breathe, already his actions invoke better memories.

They are shadows. They pleasure me as Ben plays my body. His hands brush over my lips and I feel the press of a dozen mouths. It’s unexpected, unexplained, and would feel perverted if I didn’t understand these shadows are ghosts of the past. Ben’s mouth skims my nipple and a hundred mouths suckle me. Oh god. I cry out, husky, wanton. My hands flutter on his shoulders, urging him on. His mouth slides up my thighs, fingers dancing along my stomach and twisting the fabric of my top. It tears, ripped in one irritated yank. Ben pulls me flush to him and kisses my shoulders, pushing my top away and the material flutters away. My joggers suffer the same fate.

We hold each other, a brief shelter from the storm. We bob in a turbulent sea of desire, knowing that when we move the spell will break and we will be swept away.

The ties to my old self are severing, the bonds to humanity bent to breaking.

Ben, hold me tighter!

Sweaty and naked, I pant, feeling his fingers trail down my body and come closer to the wetness between my legs. His finger slides over where I burn, and I buck, the movement repeated by the shadow memories. I fist a hand in his hair and the other on his wrist. I crush my mouth to his and our tongues tangle.

Mine. Uh … my voice is not that deep. My brows pull together. What…? I want you … so badly… my heart, my love what you’ve given me…. My eyes fly open. I hear Ben’s thoughts! Up until now he’s projected them to me, pushed them into my mind, but now I hear him. Oh no, wait, everything is muddling, becoming a blur. Why…. She’s wet. My heart, I am going to fuck–

Okay, Lee, you were not supposed to hear that.

Moving faster than I think my body actually can, I flatten Ben on his back. Disorientated, I close my eyes so my mind can catch up with my actions. Got it? Yes, okay.

He snarls at me, baring his fangs, his eyes glittering dangerously as if I’d stolen his favourite treat. His teeth are not scary anymore – far from it. I’ll bite back now, love. I hiss at him, flashing my own canines in warning, and let repressed lust rumble forth. Ben’s erection grows and presses into my stomach. Ugh, I want this too badly. It’s too hot. Air, I need to breathe. I roll my head back and gasp. It does nothing. My head is taking flight so I gasp again and squeeze my eyes shut. A thousand couplings before this one come to mind. Each vivid and passionate. Different men and women are taking me in every way possible. I’m sweaty, in excruciating agony, and the pleasure rides me so hard I’m about to…. Um, no I’m not! I shake my head, confused. I have not done these things, why do I remember them so clearly?

Ben’s hands grip my hips, coax me higher so he can slide his length deep into my wetness, and poises himself at my entrance. This act is instinctive and every urge points south. I’m not afraid; I’m bursting with love, with excitement. He eases me down. I hiss, feel myself stretch, and fill. Heat creeps up my neck and spills in my cheeks. My fingertips tingle and I tremble. He smiles, radiant, and thrusts to plunge inside me to the hilt. Sharp pain rips across the pleasure, but is swallowed by greater pains, and greater pleasure.

I watch him through my lashes, biting my lip. Lust flits across his beautiful face. Dark hair falls into his eyes and a quick flick of his head shifts the strands aside. He spears me with his gaze, direct, bold. Hey! I still blush, and feel hot and cold. I rake my fingernails down Ben’s chest. Raw passion blazes in his eyes and I’ve no warning when he thrusts again. The move is echoed by a barrage of memory. I come. My channel clenches him tight, and my juices flood from me. Fireworks? My back arches as Ben smoothes his hands down my torso, cupping my waist, fingers digging in.

The memories come fast, excruciating and mind blowing. I clasp my head, not knowing what to do. The pleasure is too much and I come again. Oh my god, I cannot take it. Everything is multiplied and uncontrolled. Wild. The world is that much smaller and I feel … swollen? Overfed? My body mass is too much … my molecules have solidified into something else.

Ben rolls me beneath him, still connected, still rigid. He buries his head in the crook of my shoulder and pumps harder. His body is heavy and hot! I don’t get it, my Ben is cool skinned. Or has my temperature changed now? My heart thunders, my legs and arms are no longer numb but burning. Shards of ice are being pressed into my skin. Are they are growing? My sockets strain, my joints creak. I’m dying, changing. I feel it; the difference between what I am and what I am about to be. Life leaves me and is being gifted to me anew. And … oh no. I shudder at the dark force welcoming me, marking my soul with an iron brand I will never be able to scrub off. I understand now why Ben had resisted this. I feel the power flow through me, unnatural, other.

Lee, you wanted this, you know what you signed up for. Take it.

Light headed, body floating, I interlock my fingers with Ben’s and move with him. I am becoming like him, his mate, his kind. Goodbye, humanity, I can’t stay.

The dark force takes shape, face mockingly cruel, and swallows my soul whole. This elemental piece of me, my spirit, my essence, is spat out tainted. This twisted perversion has been altered so I can wreak evil upon the world.

It’s thrust back into my empty yet unwilling body. I’m powerless to stop it.

Changing.

Oh god, help me.

Ben clutches me as he comes, his body quaking.

My heart gives out as my soul is claimed by the dark, and I sigh my last breath into his shoulder.

My love weeps.

My old life has ended.

Ben’s bloody tears mingle with mine as the world goes black.

Chapter 10 Wake, Child

Thirsty. Itchy. Dry and uncomfortable. Why can’t I swallow? My eyes blink open and I gasp, body rising as if buoyant. Truly, I feel weightless, and yet, heavy at the same time; as if I’m dragging a truckload of mass behind me.

I stand, hair covering my face like a veil, and peak between the strands. Huh. The iron bed frame is broken, buckled in the middle. Did I do that? I glance behind me and remember hitting the wall. There is large dent and circular cracks in the plaster. Hmm. And what of Ben? I brush crumbling candle wax and dirt from my arm, still feeling it reviving, and calming energy seeps into my pores. Is that why Ben left me there, so it continued to work its healing magic on me?

I have no clothes, and though I’m not cold, I’d like to cover up. Standing in the centre of the room awkwardly, I chew my lip. I pick up the crumbled fabric close by and shake my head, letting it fall from my fingers. The clothes are ruined.

Lee, it’s not rocket science, just find more clothes.

I pop my head out into the stairway. “Ben?” I croak into the darkness.

With tentative steps, I make my way down these stairs and come to the main hallway. I slip into the first room I find, and joy, it’s a closet. Here are all Ben’s clothes. So … he hasn’t just turned me and disappeared into the night without a trace. Not that at any point that is what I was thinking, anyway.

I pick up expensive watches and all styles of hat. I try on oversized boots and expensive leather shoes. I put on one of his many trench coats and flash myself in his wall length mirror. Oh, what a silly fool I am. In the end, I grab a simple off-white shirt with a granddad collar, half buttoned, a pair of black loose boxers, and a pair of ribbed socks. I roll up my sleeves and find a brush to tug through my hair. Halfway through, the bristles tangle at the back. I stop, because, ow, it hurts. How does one get dried candle wax out of their hair? Sigh. I’m dressed a little strangely, but it’s better than naked.

Now to do something about the hollow feeling in my middle and the horrible dry burn in my throat, ah, it’s ghastly!

Outside in the hallway, I stand with one foot rubbing the back of my calf and peer down toward the west, wondering if maybe he’s down there. I don’t want to travel too far from where he left me. I feel sensitive and vulnerable emotionally, and I want to stay somewhere familiar. Should I feel that way? Surely, I should feel strong and without limits, yet, I have this horrible feeling like … this is what I will feel forever now. That all emotion will feel ten times worse and ten times better. “Ah, Ben?” I call again into the darkness, but nothing echoes back at me. Well, nothing but my own worried voice.

I smell him everywhere, but I can’t hear him or feel him.

Back up the stairs in my tower, I stand in the darkened room and draw a blank. What now? I touch a candlewick and its cold, the wax hard. I prod the whitened wood in the fireplace. It is stone cold. Thin layers of dust cover everything.

Lee! Stop ignoring it, listen to it … hear it.

Thump. I turn looking for the source. There is no one in this room but me. Is that … is that my heart? Not possible! My heart is still now. Isn’t it? Thump. Thump.

I rub the heel of my hand to my chest and feel my heart slam harder to my breastplate as I panic. Right, okay, I need Ben and I need him now. I get our kind might be somewhat solitary and desire time alone, but I need to see him and for him to tell me I’m okay. Did everything work like it should have? My heart is still beats. Why is it beating?  Did something go wrong and Ben couldn’t bear to stay and deal with the disaster?

I’m short of breath. My palms are clammy. Bile rises in my throat. Am I…? Yes, I think I’m having a panic attack. The walls are closing in, there is horrible moisture on my face, and my heart is about ten beats from going splat.

I stumble over to the balcony doors and get tangled in the ceiling to floor voile. God, what is it with me and more than four yards of fabric? I manage to work my way around it, the voile twisting over my chest and right leg as I push the handle down to get out. Nothing happens. I rattle it but the door stays closed. I get this charge, more like a tingly burn, actually. It races to my extremities and I slam my palms against the door panels. The doors fly off their hinges and over the balcony ledge. Seconds later they crash into smithereens at the base of the castle. At least, I think they do from the cacophony of sound. I’m still twisted up in the voile with my palms raised to the sky with my mouth open. Oh. I hope Ben did not need those, um, doors.

I step out onto the balcony and immediately my heart slows and my body relaxes. The open air is marvellous and I breathe in briny smell of the sea behind me deeply. Rain taps the crown of my head, and I tilt my face to watch the droplets plummet to earth from a starry sky.

Thump.

I stop laughing and my head snaps down toward the sound.

Thump. Thump.

Ah! Where is that coming from? That one is most definitely not mine, the tempo is different. With this sound comes a faint scent I recognize. “Ben,” I whisper.

Entwined with his distinctive and familiar smell is that of older and colder scents I do not recognize. This provokes an inner caution and I growl, crouching. I pace forward, jump. I shift to move forward again but higher brain function kicks in and backpedals with a girlish squeal. I’m perched on the railing like raptor, my fingers curled into claws and my chin thrust forward. I reel back and land on my bum. Oomph! Wonderful. Was I going to jump or something? Off the tower balcony?

I look down at my hands, at my feet. If I did, what would happen? I feel … different. No, not like I expected, but still, more than I used to be. Okay, no time to stop and ponder yourself, oh mighty one, get to Ben. I look through the cast iron bars and gnaw my top lip. Hmm. Possibly I could work the stairs instead?

God! Jump off the bloody balcony, Lee. Deadly immortal now, remember?

Breathing out in a huff, I close my eyes and vault over the waist-high railing, my limbs bunching before springing open lithely. When will I hit the–

Ugh! Abruptly, my legs and torso reach impact together. I’ve a mouth full of green stuff, and I’m sinking into wet grass, which broke my fall. It does not hurt … much. I hear the water crash against the foundations of the castle, and the gulls cackle at me. Assholes. My eyes close briefly. Right. The moat and battlements.

You did not think to check for those things before you jumped off a four-storey balcony, Lee?

Whatever. I sit up and brush myself off. Again, I suck in a breath to catch onto Ben’s scent. His smell is everywhere but fainter in some directions. The one I’m following is stronger, warmer? I crawl toward it. The Lycan forest is in the corner of my vision but I ignore the strange pull to investigate it. Going into those woods would make Ben incandescent with anger, of that I’m sure.

Incandescent? What an odd word choice. Ha, look at me, I know words like incandescent. In fact, my mind feels odd. I stop crawling and puzzle this through. It’s more spacious. There are many more rooms filled to bursting, and locked shut, but, I still have smaller cupboards of knowledge from my old life. My thought pattern is definitely different. I’m coming to conclusions faster, I think. Less of a mental debate about everything I see and do. Am I happy about this? Well, I’m not unhappy, I guess. Is being less in my own head is a good thing?

I stand up and expect all manner of things to start throbbing. Nope. Nothing.

I look back up at the tower, keep looking up, and feel queasy. That is pretty damn high. My first step is a lurch; because let’s face it I’m trembling now and calling myself all kinds of a fool. Why did I do that? I don’t even know if what Ben did to me worked properly.

God, I’m an ass.

After a while I’m good. I relive the night before and find a new bounce to my step. Ben and I made love. Yes, I’m sure of that. It was … mind-blowing too. I distinctly remember holding my head, but otherwise my transformation is hazy. I look up at the moon and freeze mid step. The moon is waxing. I close my eyes and think real hard about what I had seen as Ben brought me to this field last night. No, no it was definitely a waning moon last night. I scratch at my throat. Um, slightly panicked. That would mean I’ve been unconscious for nearly a month. That can’t be. Impossible. A month? I must have it wrong, seriously wrong. Ben said the transformation wouldn’t take long.

Ah, Lee? Is time not relative? Ben has been alive for centuries. Long to him might be a decade whereas long to you might mean a few hours.

I definitely should have asked Ben for more information on what was going to happen to me. Oh love. How long did you sit at my side, as I lay stone cold and still. I wish you were there when I woke, I would have held you, and assured you I was okay. I frown as I walk on. If Ben was at my side the whole time, as I have no doubt he was, why did he choose now to leave? He must have known I would wake soon, so what would be important enough to take him from my side? He would want to comfort me, tell me what I needed to know. He would never leave me this confused. So why did he?

I find myself on the tarmac of the main road and take a moment to pick a direction. Ben’s scent says left, so, I go left. Nibbling my lip, I try to work through the influx of memories pinging around in my skull. Our kind have lived for so long, been so many places, and have seen … so much. And lost so much.

Headlights appear on the road and I duck off, crouching down until the car passes. It keeps happening so I start to walk on the edge of the road instead of the centre.

Thump, thump.

I twist around. Someone follows me. That heartbeat, I keep hearing it, but it’s not mine. I peer into the darkness, which does not seem to hinder my sight. Hmm. I have been seeing in the dark this whole time. Still, I don’t see anybody else; but that damn pulse is driving me mad.

Continuing my walk, after eight steps, I spin around.

Ha!

Nobody is there.

I let my hand fall and roll my eyes at myself. Like that was going to work. Whoever it is, maybe they want to try keeping up with me. As I start to run I feel that energy again, flowing from the earth into my legs and merging with the buzz deep within my chest. The wind on my face and tugging my hair is exhilarating. My feet are silent on the tarmac as I pass a second car. How fast are they travelling down this empty motorway, sixty miles an hour? Seventy? I can go faster.

How long have I been running? Time seems … strange. I must be far from the castle; I can no longer smell the sea. Should I go back?

Something darts past, a shadow. I stumble over my own feet, turning so we don’t collide. Who the hell was that! I’m so shocked my feet falter and it’s either I fall, or stop running, and a face of concrete does not sound good. I stop dead in the middle of the road, and turn with wide eyes at the sound of a blaring horn.

Headlights blind me as the car swerves past. The driver brakes hard, and the car whiplashes around until it’s coasting on its side, tires screeching. Black skid marks sear into the road. White smoke billows as the car jack-knifes around again. The friction is not enough to straighten it out or to hold it to the road, and its two side wheels leave the ground. The car tumbles over. Again, it cartwheels. Hood, wheels, hood, wheels. There is screaming. A body smashes through the windshield and is propelled along the ground until it slides to a stop in a crumpled heap, a smear of blood left on the road. Oh shit. Metal bends and scrapes, glass smashes, the road shakes as the smooth blacktop is ripped apart.

The car slides to stop on its roof, rocking gently. The monotone horn blares in an unbroken resonance. The car bonnet smokes, cloying; it sticks at the back of my throat. I pause, my terrified heart bouncing.

Lee, the smell of gasoline and smoke is bad.

I stagger forward. Is there anybody else in the car?

Violently, it explodes: the booming force jettisoning fragments of sharp metal. Mangled, a door hurtles towards me and I curl over into a low crouch. The jagged metal flies past my head, which I tuck into the crook of my arm. The heat of the flare-up envelops me, and the ends of my hair cackle and burn. I’m thrown off my knees onto my side and my chin and cheek scrape the ground. Loose stones on the tarmac dig into the flat of my hands.

Get up, Lee.

Scrambling up onto my hands and knees, I shriek when the car blows up again, a lesser explosion, but its effect no less forceful. The car hood ploughs into me, knocking me down. This acts as a barrier of sorts to the small and hot bits of rubble that rain from the sky.

Pushing the heated metal off, I exhale, and lurch up. Mushroom clouds of smoke drift into the night and the burnt out shell of the car is wreathed in orange flames. Cupping a hand over my mouth, tears pool in my eyes at the smouldering wreck. The crackling fire is too hot and my body shies away, liking the heat, but instinctively knowing the blaze is dangerous. I back away, palms up.

Oh god, Lee, what have you done!

Hearing another car horn behind me, I pivot on my heel to get headlights reflecting off my eyes. Again? No! My body reacts even as the driver slams on the brakes: the tires screech and the smoke from the asphalt drifts up in a dense fume. No, no, not again! This time the driver did not react fast enough.

Lee the car will knock you down. Move.

Energy coils in my gut and shoots down to my legs in a tingly rush. I leap. My leading leg lands with a thud on the car bonnet. The car hurtles forward. On my next bound, I land in a crouch on the roof, my weight denting the steel. I dive, both hands pushed out, as the car propels toward the flaming ball, and land soundlessly on my two feet.

I pivot around ready to run and grab the car, or something, but freeze. The vehicle is stationary a few feet before the wreckage.

Leisurely chuckles have my head turning slowly. Ben stands at my side. Lifting my fist he unfolds my stiff fingers to press a kiss to my palm. ‘This is quite a mess, love. I should have known you would be a handful.’ Dumfounded, I stare at him. It feels like hours since I last saw him, but the length of his dark hair is conformation it has been much longer. It used to curl about his ears; it now brushes the base of his earlobes and is swept back over his high forehead rather than falling into his hazel eyes, which dance with mischief. His mouth kicks back at one corner and his dimple flashes. ‘Would you like to play a game with me, dodging cars? The bigger the better. Winner leads the hunt for dinner.’ Jumping over the road partition into oncoming traffic he continues in the direction I’d travelled. He dodges a car then he winks from sight.

I come back to myself. Did that really happen?

Three unconscious bodies lie on the grass, one covered in soot. I didn’t save those people … Ben saved them? Sirens and blue flashing lights snap me into action. I back away from the carnage shaking my head. Is he insane? Look at what I did! These people nearly died because of me!

Ah, Lee? You are going to be hunting these people from now on. Does it really matter how they die?

Well, yeah, I think it does. This was …wrong of me. I must be more careful. And Ben … Ben! Wait for me!

I take off after him. He’s kind of meandering across the road, occasionally twisting his head back to see where I am, which is horrifying since he’s playing his suggested game. I’m not buying into his foolishness and run safely on the hard shoulder, but when Ben plays chicken with an eighteen-wheeler my heart actually skips a beat in fright and I lunge to push him out of the way.

He grabs my arm and hauls me with him. We roll from the road and tumble down a slope into the woods at the edge of the motorway. I lay on my back, scowling up at the sky, heart thumping a jaunty beat before Ben’s smiling face pops into view.

‘I win.’ He grins at me wider.

Growling, deep, pissed off growling. And it’s coming from me. The mischievous imp! How could he scare me like that? Seeing if you can dodge a truck is not fun!

I stand and pace a circle. Ben rolls onto his back and places his hands behind his head. He watches me with slumberous eyes, letting those dark orbs track up and down my body. “Can you feel it? The power,” he asks after a long moment’s silence.

My eyes close in spite of my irritation, and I bite my lip. His voice is nothing short of incredible. Smooth and deliciously dark, the way he speaks is nothing short of wonderful.

Deep sigh.

So … I get no explanation as to what’s happened? As to why I’m in the middle of the woods pushing him from harm instead of lying in his arms back at the castle? No talk on why he left me in the first place on the night of my turning?

Nothing is ever simple with you, is it, darling? Is this what I have to endure for the rest of eternity, you driving me insane with your cryptic ways? Do you have any idea how confused and disorientating this whole experience has been for me? I slant a look at him. Oh well. Enough bitching. “Of course I feel it,” I say moodily. “But how do I use it?”

Ben taps his bottom lip. “Let me see.” He springs up and charges, fist flying toward my face at blinding speed. I catch it one handed, bringing it and him to a dead halt. Exasperated, I kiss his knuckles. His thick eyebrow arches, and he is amused. ‘Will you do that to all your attackers?’ he thinks as he says aloud, “Again?”

I slouch a little. This is the first thing we do? Well, I suppose fighting is a necessary skill I need to learn, but I had hoped my first night would be about us getting used to me being like him. I’m not trying to be ungrateful or anything but … hey! Ben’s poking around where he’s not invited. ‘Out of my mind,’ I think, annoyed. Now I understand why he objected to my presence in his head.

I push the thought to him as I eject him from inside my head. I add extra oomph into the move, not sure where the ‘extra’ oomph comes from, and he flies backwards into a tree. My mouth hangs open, and I reach out to him, immediately wanting him back with me. He jerks forward across the space into my arms. I’m stunned when he slams into me, but I clasp him tightly as I land on my back and he straddles me laughing.

Okay. I’m beginning to see everything about the new me is very immediate. No time to think just react. Not such a great thing for somebody like me who over thinks everything.

“I suppose I won’t be telling you ‘no’ anymore, love.” He nuzzles my neck as I gasp and squeeze him before letting go. “And don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Your mind will settle after a while and you’ll find a nice mental flow that works well with your instincts.”

His words are soothing, but his lips, not so much. “Like you’ve ever told me ‘no’ before,” I say and turn his head so I can kiss his lovely mouth. ‘You … followed … me?’ I kind of think to him as his hands start to pop open the buttons on the shirt, and kiss my neck and collarbone.

‘Hmmm. Of course. I was on my way back when I saw your, ah, graceful exit from the castle tower.’

He pushes a hand inside the shirt and cups my breast while I get a visual of me falling flat on my face in the grass. Gosh, the thump of me hitting the floor was rather loud. I wince at his memory of the event, and nip his neck. Ben stills. I stop my exploration of his hard stomach and look up at him with a question mark on my face.

“Do that again,” he whispers as his eyes drop to my mouth.

Oh look! His pupils are slits again. Hmm. I lean forward and graze my fangs along his neck. His hands are either side of me and dig into the earth. His lower body presses into mine and I lock my legs around his waist.

Now he’s growling! Oh my. It sounds a little rabid, but whatever, I’ll work with it. The smell of wet dog assails my nostrils. I frown. Okay…. Hot heavy breath tickles the back of my neck, and my hair stirs in a sudden warm breeze.

Ben goes rigid above me, tension in every line of his body. My wandering hands slow over his heart which is thumping harder and faster. In the scariest voice I’ve ever heard, Ben says, “Lycan, if you value your life, back away. Now.”

Chapter 11 Lycanthropes And Lessons

I peek an eye open and tilt my head to see an upside down maw with razor sharp teeth snapping for my head, but a millisecond too late, because Ben has clutched my wrist and dragged me five feet across the ground while throwing me behind him. Crouched before us is a wolf – smoky in colour with a shaggy coat. My fingers twitch. I would love to stroke it.

Ben and the wolf lunge at each other then spring back. After a minute or so of them circling each other, I rub my brow. What is this? My heart settles. They’re not going to fight. Both looked pissed enough, but neither is going to make the first move.

“What are they doing?”

I jump a mile, strangling a yell. Ben twists round to check on me but the wolf snarls and his attention switches back to pacing a wide circle.

The voice belongs to a woman. She’s taller than me, but not that that means much. I’m so short most twelve year olds are taller than me. Her dark hair is long and thick. Her endearing features are plain but strong, memorable. Her eyes are big and blue, curved at the edges to give her an exotic look. Cocked in a smile, her lips are full, and her sharp teeth bright white. Skin slick with sweat, she too smells like wet dog. My nose crinkles and I sniff.

“You’re one too, aren’t you,” I ask, somewhat distracted. Her companion is nipping at my Ben after all.

Wincing, she rubs her ear then crosses her arms over her chest. Her body is sleek and muscular. “Yeah, guilty as charged snaggle-tooth. What are you doing on my Daddy’s territory?”

“Snaggle-tooth,” I echo.

She rubs her ear again and eyes the hand I’m offering suspiciously. I keep my expression open, I’m happy to meet her. With a huff she takes my hand and shakes it twice. “Harmony. Second daughter to Liam, the South West Alpha, and supposedly that mutt’s she-wolf though he’ll have to break my legs so I can’t run before I let him mount me.” She motions to the wolf growling and being tossed around by Ben. “Men can be so presumptuous. Do you know he was sniffing around my older sister until she got engaged? Soon as, he switched his attention to me. Asshole. Yeah, I’ll just accept sloppy seconds.” She makes a noise of disgust. “He was trying to seduce me before you two took a tumble down the hill. Superb timing by the way.”

She inhales to carry on and I quickly say, “I’m Lee, and I’m … I’m sorry, what are you doing?”

Harmony sniffs at my neck and hair, circling me, curious. I bat her away.

“You smell different to the others,” she says, puzzled. “I’ve only met two of your kind in my lifetime but you smell like…” Her head whips around to the wolf facing off with Ben. “Sy!” she snaps. “We’re leaving. Now.”

The wolf looks up at her with glowing eyes and backs away, still snarling at Ben who brushes his hands off.

Harmony peers into my face, looking for something. She shoves my shoulder and winks before her face becomes solemn. “If you don’t tell about tonight neither will we.” With that she turns and runs into the trees, her limbs fluidly turning from human to wolf. With a bark at her male companion they disappear into the night.

Ben looks flushed, a little worn, but … happy? There was no way he enjoyed that.

“I had some extra energy to work off. It was a pleasant distraction. The wolf needed a tumble too. The female is in heat but denies him.” Ben takes my arm and pulls me back towards the road. “Fascinating creatures, Lycanthropes. Not quite human and not quite animal. They straddle both worlds and their customs blend that of beast and man.”

“Ben–”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, love. You have the knowledge, you have all our knowledge, use it.”

Right, I’m pissed. We’ve reached the road but I’m in no mood to keep walking. I shake Ben off and push him back. Hands on hips I tip my chin back. “No. You have some explaining to do.” I shove his shoulder and he steps back. “I’ve got a big jumble in my head where my nicely ordered memories used to be.” Shove. “I woke up, alone and frightened, in that big ass scary castle of yours.” Poke. “I have fallen on my face, nearly been run over, almost been bitten by a werewolf, and sniffed by another who had surprisingly good hair, which is annoying since I can’t even get a brush through mine right now.” Poke. Poke. “And you prattle on about how I should simply know the answers to all this … this … foolishness?”

“Yes.”

I glare at him then turn and start walking, muttering to myself of an annoying man who should’ve had his head chomped off by a big dog.

‘Come now, love. Don’t be angry–’

‘Furious, Ben. I am furious.’

‘Please?’ Ben is now behind me, holding me still and resting is head on top of mine. ‘I am sorry. I am just relieved and happy, if you can believe it. This has been a … difficult time.’

“About that,” I say, and turn in his arms so I look up into his dear face. “A month? You could have warned me.”

His brows pull together. “You said–”

I place a palm over his mouth. “I know what I said. You still should have made sure I knew something as huge as that. I mean, what about Bethany, and my flat, and my mother, and the gallery? They must be going mental.” I start to pant. “To them it must seem I’ve disappeared without a trace. Like I up and left without another thought of their wellbeing.”

Ben looks way too calm, so I let go of his mouth. He kisses my nose. “It is better this way. If the world thinks you vanished they will always have some hope of your return. The other way is to stage your death, and do you honestly wish to watch your loved ones grieve you? I thought not. You can care for them from a distance, love.”

I stare up at him with wide eyes. He’s right, of course. Oh, my mother will search for me I am certain, but she will continue with her life, and like he says, hope for my return. Just when I thought I had a reason to be mad, he goes all Ben on me. My family will never see me again, but I will see them. I will make sure they are all right for as long as I exist. How lucky I am to have this man of mine, so sensible. I hug him then shower his face with kisses.

Ben tips my head back with his forefinger and peers into my face. “Your eyes are so lovely, the most beautiful I have seen, and I have stared into many faces.” I blush under this praise and clasp his wrist, rubbing it softly. “Now, my love, you have changed. You are like me now, and it is important you are aware of exactly what you are capable of.”

His hand clasps my chin and he pulls me closer so the front of our bodies are flush. My hands rest on his waist and I feel content. Well, apart from the very dry and itchy throat, that is. I swallow with difficulty.

“Your anatomy looks the same,” Ben continues, his expression noting my discomfort and requesting I ignore it for a short while longer, “but do you feel the changes? You are felid, strong, flexible. Your reflexes are sharp, precise.”

I nod. I’d jumped over a car, and fallen from a four-storey tower without a scratch. Run at incredible speeds, and had shaken off Ben’s hold; which would have been impossible before he turned me. I do have knowledge of what my body is capable of now, but it’s a jumble, a mish mash. I need time to reorder and sort so when I access it I’m not overwhelmed.

I’m plagued with doubt. What am I supposed to do with all this extra power. “Can you tell me?” I ask. “Show me what I am now?”

Ben smiles, his fangs are more prominent now he does not try to hide them from me. Oh my. They make my lower stomach warm up, and I blush, wanting to kiss them. Would he let me? He’d let me stroke them before, and I had licked them when he turned me and we made love. Hmm. Ben shudders and breathes in deeply. He takes a step back, clears his throat, and holds up his hands. Seeing how diverted I am by his teeth, he bats my grasping hands away and points out the most obvious change in me.

“Your teeth have adapted to kill prey. We constantly use our acute hearing and the ability to see in near darkness…” I nod my understanding, pacing forward as he backs away. “…and not only can you hear sounds too faint for human ears … love! Stop that now. Ah, you can hear sounds higher in frequency than … than humans.” He dodges me again and I growl. “Some that even animals cannot perceive,” he finishes on a sigh, seeing in my eyes I’m not going to stop until I have what I want. “Your sense of smell has also heightened. Combined, these abilities make you the ultimate nocturnal predator; perfect.” As he speaks, he touches these parts of me with reverence. I rub my face into his yummy chest. He smells like wildflowers and seawater. Just like my Ben. I hum appreciatively and tug him closer. “Your range of vocalisations is greater.” Ben’s voice deepens and he strokes me back, tangling his fingers in my hair, and tugging my head back. In my ear he whispers, “Will you purr for me, love?”

He strokes my hip, and oh yes, I purr, and snuggle closer. He feels so good, and the fit is perfect. I press a kiss to his cheekbone. Ben’s mouth slants over mine as it parts. His tongue slides past my lips and I groan into his mouth, pushing myself onto him, clutching him tightly.

This was what I wanted. All I wanted. Ben. He’s mine now and the thought makes me deliriously happy. Nothing can touch us. Is this selfish? That my master plan is to simply be with him forever? I have all this power and instead of donning a spandex mask and calling myself Lady Midnight, Defender of Justice, I’m happy to spend every night wrapped in Ben’s arms, safe and loved.

We break away breathing hard. My man can kiss. I want to giggle, but that would ruin the moment. I do so in my head then remember Ben can hear silly surface thoughts and sounds. I put a mental gag on my inner voice too.

“I never knew it would be this … immense. The changes,” I say then whimper as he pulls me back to him, grabs my butt, and grinds me against his hard length.

“You will adjust emotionally and mentally, after a while. Just like your body already has.” Letting me go with a frustrated sigh, he touches my head again, his fingers splayed over my brow. “More has happened to your physiology than you may realize. Your skull has larger eye sockets, and your jaw is more powerful, specialized for your new hunting needs.” He presses his fingers to my jaw, tracing it as he speaks. “It is easy to see that your teeth have lengthened for breaking the skin to drink blood, but, should you ever need to, you can deliver a lethal bite to the back of the neck by digging your canines between the top vertebrae of your prey and severing the spinal cord. This causes permanent paralysis, and of course death, but we only do this in times of great distress. Most humans simply bleed to death from our feeding, or if we choose to rip their throats out.” I swallow hard and look away wondering if I will ever be able to do what he describes. Ben turns but asks over his shoulder, “Now shall I tell you the fun part? Or … should I show you?” He rubs the stubble on his jaw as he walks off.

“There’s more?” I ask, shaking hair off my face and following after him. “Tell me, no wait, show me. Um, do both, okay? Take it slow.” Something stings the sole of my foot and I bring it up to see the sock is wet with blood. I pull the sock off and see the heel of my foot is covered in red. I pull out the shard of glass causing the problem and watch, waiting for the wound to heal. Nope, it’s still bleeding.

“We do not heal that fast.” Ben tickles the bottom of my foot and I squeal. He slips my sock back on, picks me up, and kisses my nose. I love it when he does that. I sigh happily and lean my head on his chest. “We heal faster than humans, but it is not instant, unless you are feeding. Extreme damage requires a night of healing sleep as well. We are immortal. You will not age or become sick like you used to. We’re not indestructible. If you cut us, we bleed, if you set us on fire our flesh burns faster than that of a human, as it is drier. Despite the danger, fire attracts us like moths to light. We like the heat.” He backtracks at the look of alarm on my face. “We are hard to kill and we can die certain mortal deaths and simply revive ourselves.”

“Stake through the heart?”

“Myth in the sense it is not the only way to kill us. A shard of wood through the organ that pumps blood would kill most creatures instantaneously, wouldn’t you agree? Fire, decapitation, a sword to the heart, falling from a great height are all proven ways to end us.” His face brightens. “You cannot drown.”

I sniff in distain. “Big whoop. I’m immortal but can still be stabbed to death, and….”

My throat burns hotter and I groan. I’m so thirsty. Ben’s neck looks awfully appealing. His pulse is steady and strong. The thick vein beneath his skin bulges. I nuzzle his neck and open my mouth wide with every intention of biting him when he drops me on my ass.

Ow!

Grumbling, I rub my butt and glare up at him. “What?”

Grinning, he crouches down and points behind me. “Look where we are, love. A town full of food and you were about to snack on me?”

I glance behind. We have indeed reached the outskirts of Docklands. “Did you have to drop me?” I pout. “It would have only been a little bite … more of a graze actually.”

Ben stands and offers his hand. I clasp his forearm and let him pull me up. We walk silently down the quiet streets. The occasional double-decker bus or car drives past, but it’s mainly quiet.

“I’m hungry,” I moan and scratch at my side.

Ben places a finger to his lips and bobs his head towards the other side of the road. There stumble a half drunk couple, leaning on each other and bickering. Ben enfolds my small hand in his larger, cooler one, and we start toward them. Something strange is happening. I feel, sexy, lush. My movement has slowed and my chin lowered. My legs tense and I keep pushing up onto my toes, as if I’m wearing heels. God, this is stupid. I force my heels back to the floor, but another other step and I’m on my toes again.

“When you hunt,” Ben says quietly, “You will feel the urge to pace directly on your toes. It is natural, you don’t have fight it. As you age you’ll find you can control the impulse. The bones in your feet have been strengthened to deal with greater impact and are capable of allowing you to walk with extreme precision. Have you ever seen how a wildcat moves and stalks a field mouse?” As he speaks we draw closer and my muscles pull tighter. The urge to get to higher ground and attack from above is staggering. “They place each hind paw directly in the print of the subsequent forepaw to minimize noise and tracks. You can do this in a fashion. You can walk in a straight line and retrace your steps effortlessly. Your footing will always be sure, even navigating rough terrain. Can you feel your skin tightening? Good. That is your body conserving heat by reducing the flow of blood to your skin so prey with keener senses cannot smell or sense you. That said, we do not sweat, but we do pant at high temperatures.” He grimaces. “Or breathe heavily. It is not pleasant. We prefer the cooler nights of winter; they are longer even if our lady moon is brighter.” I shoot a questioning look at him. “The moon is our herald and when her rays are strongest you will feel a tingling across your skin. What you’re really feeling is the faintest of burns. Moonlight is simply sunlight reflected off the lunar surface, and our skin cells are grossly allergic to sunrays. The venom in your blood, the power that changed you, reacts to the ultraviolet rays. The venom sees this sun-altered skin as foreign and attacks. Do you understand now why you must never stand in the daylight? If large areas of our skin are exposed to sunlight, we sustain too much damage and burn alive.” I stop walking my jaw swinging open. His face lightens. “Enough of that. You want to strike this prey from above, don’t you?” I manage a nod; the sound of their wet heartbeats is utterly distracting. “Hmm. Height gives you a better observation point allowing you to watch your territory as you go for the kill. It’s all natural, love.”

I rock back on my heels and look away, gasping. ‘No killing. Not … not yet. I can’t, darling, please?’

‘As you wish.’

Viper quick, Ben grabs the man and drags him back, his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulder, hand covering his mouth. Wrenching the victim’s head back, Ben transforms. His brow lowers to slant over his eyes and merge with the bridge of his nose, sleekly feline. His fangs lengthen, and his eyes glow devilishly. He had held back when he fed at the club, then when he had turned me.

“Get her,” he growls, like a monster, and without another word he sinks his fangs into the man’s neck.

The woman screams, and runs away on her perilously high platform heels. I turn to tell Ben I can’t do this, and the words stall on my lips. He’s not only drinking the blood of this man, he’s sucking his … essence?  I doubt any other than those of our kind could see it. The wispy tendrils seep from the man’s skin and into Ben’s to be absorbed, giving him new life. My love throws his head back with a guttural cry, his face flushed, chest heaving. He lets the man collapse and turns away, struggling to control himself. “It is harder like this, when we give over fully to the hunting instinct.”

“Is … is he…?”

“Sleeping. I promised no killing. He will sleep then wake with a headache and what he thinks is a hangover.” Ben’s face smoothes out as he looks up at me with a smile that morphs into a scowl. “The woman?”

Woman? Oh yeah. Um….

Now what, Lee?

“I ah, got cold feet? Or … cold fangs?”

Ben brushes his hands off. He wipes away a sliver of blood from the corner of his mouth and offers it to me. I stare at it, the ruby bead on his fingertip, the smell of it  … oh my, delicious. It curls into my nostrils, which flare, and makes my need and hunger that much more acute. My throat contracts and I whimper as I suck his thumb into my mouth. This is wonderful on two levels, I’m sucking Ben’s thumb, and there is a divine thickness spreading from the flat of my tongue lapping up the blood all the way down my throat to my stomach. My brow tingles and undulates under my skin. It twitches, moves. It does not hurt so much, and my senses become sharper, as does this new hunting instinct. I feel more animal than human, a primal force that needs to feed.

“When you eat solid food you will discover we have relatively few taste buds compared to humans,” Ben says in a strained voice. My tongue swirls over the smooth pad of his finger and I think how much more fun this would be if this was another body part. Ben sounds strangled as he continues, “and blood is most flavoursome to us. You still have a digestive system and can absorb food, just like you still have a respiratory system.” Ben presses his erection into the soft podge of my lower stomach. “Blood pumps through me hard and fast, love. It is how more fundamental parts of me still work.”

I nip at his thumb and Ben wrenches his arm away from me, removing his thumb from my mouth and latches his mouth over mine. Our fangs graze together and I struggle to get close. I want to bite and fuck him all at the same time.

Ben cries out in response to my thoughts and pulls away. “Not yet. The night is young and we need to get you fed.”

Tentatively, I feel my face and am shocked. My brow feels more prominent, like a sloped crown of bone. “Why would my face change this way?”

Ben takes me by the shoulders. “As I said, we have exceptional night vision and can see well below the light level required for human sight. This facial shape is more aerodynamic and allows you a greater range of vision. Our eyes are incredibly sensitive to even the dimmest of lights; there is not much that can get by us in the dark, and in this form, it is near impossible. The slits in your pupils allow you to adapt to weak light.” He flashes me a smile. “And yes, it is also an indication of other emotion, like anger and arousal.”

I’m beginning to understand exactly what kind of monster I have chosen to become.

“Anything else?” I ask timidly, skimming over his features until I fixate on his lips.

I want him. Our first time was not really our first time. I was half out of my mind, after all. I bet if we tried again, right now, with my new body feeling like this it would be indescribable.

Ben scrubs a hand through his hair, smiles. “Did you fall in Valerian, love? It is a herb and it drives us crazy.” As in insane? He chuckles at me and I shrug. “The plant contains a substance that makes us … erratic. Think of it as Viagra and Ecstasy combined into a little plant that looks like a common weed. It wreaks havoc on our senses and judgment. Sexual urges skyrocket. Most times it is harmless as you simply writhe on the floor and demand sex.” He flashes me another grin more wicked and suggestive than the last. “And I of course, in future, will be more than happy to oblige. In the wrong circumstance though, it gives an enemy time to destroy you.” He taps my nose fondly, a radiant smile blooming across his face. “This you may find interesting. We have developed a … sixth sense, if you will, and it helps us in many ways. We can better judge the width of gaps and the location of things in the dark without touching these objects directly. Almost like sensing its essence through air currents. This sense can also trigger protective reflexes to protect us from damage, say, if you fall unexpectedly, or are pushed from a height.”

In my mind, like instant replay, I see Ben, and others of my kind landing on their feet from falls of such loftiness it astounds me. Could I do that now? Could I really…?

“Of course, love. Without thinking, your body will twist and right itself using your sense of balance. We rely on conservation of angular impetus to prepare for landing. Remember what I said about your strengthened bone structure? In particular the bones in your feet?”

I blink, translate that into something I understand, and nod slowly. “I want to try.”

Ben sighs. “Of course you do. Remember what I said? We may be immortal but there is always the slightest of chances you can get hurt, and that is almost too much of a chance for me to accept. I don’t want you in pain.” He sniffs. “And your dinner is headed that way anyway.”

Ben takes me into the empty dome and I gawp like a child. It’s pretty cool. We reach the end of the fake boulevard, passing into a large concrete space, and Ben points to a ladder which keeps going up until it pops out the top. The bottom is all locked up, obviously, but Ben takes two running leaps and jumps past that, landing twenty feet up the structure and starts climbing fluidly.

Okay, I can do this. Instinct. I run, jump, and catch a rung on the ladder, but squeal and kick my legs as I’m doing it, clutching on for dear life. Guess I have to work on that whole stealth thing. Ben is making quick work of the climb, so I stop fooling around and chase after him. On the top of the dome, we work our way onto one of the spikes and keep climbing until we reach the apex of one of the huge yellow cranes. From up here everything should look small, but with my new sight, I see everything. It’s all clear, so clear. The river Thames snakes around below us to the left and cars pop in and out of the Blackwall tunnel. Oh look! There was the woman in the high heel shoes, zigzagging across the entrance plateau directly below us!

The wind blows my hair back and I close my eyes. It’s strangely peaceful up this high. “If I jump?” I ask Ben quietly.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I jumped off the tower balcony and fell on my face. I guess I want proof of what I am. I know I’ve done some things I could never do before, but I….”

“You will fall. If you do nothing, you will hit the ground and your body will be damaged. You may or may not survive.”

I bite my lip hard. There is a distinct caution in his tone. “So, what can I do to stop myself getting hurt?”

“You will land on your feet.”

“Okay, lets say it’s looking like I won’t land on my feet.”

He grunts in annoyance. “You will, it is instinct. Let it guide your body.”

“Darling, let’s say for one second my instincts are all messed up. What else could I do? Humour me?”

Silence. Did he just mutter the word stubborn?

“You could use the dark forces to cancel out gravity and float.” Ben squeezes my shoulder. “But such magics take time to master whilst landing from a fall does not. That physical act is programmed in your natural reflexes. It’s like breathing, but what happens when you concentrate on breathing in and out too much? It becomes more difficult, yes? That’s because you are trying too hard, letting your higher cognitive functions try to control something that your primal self is in charge of.”

My heart hammers hard and this makes me smile. I get a rush of adrenaline, and I’m practically buzzing on the spot. Again, I’m amazed I feel and hear my own heart. One of those silly things that means nothing to other people but is important to you alone. I take another step forward and let my foot hover over the edge; twirl it in the open air.

“People will see me?” I ask breathlessly.

Ben’s chest brushes my back as he presses himself into me from behind. His hands capture mine and spread them wide. His mouth nibbles the nape of my neck, up my throat, until he reaches my ear. He licks the curve and sucks the lobe into his mouth. I shudder and start to rock, back into him then forward, closer to tumbling off the edge.

“The area is quiet so early in the morning, no one will see you if you do not wish them to. Do not trouble yourself, should anyone see us, I will take care of it.”

I breathe in deeply, listening to the sounds of the woman’s heels clattering on the concrete below. I’m excited and scared. What the hell am I doing? I don’t jump off buildings … except … this feels very much within the realms of what I should consider fun and easy.

I sway back into Ben, gifting him better access to my throat; what he’s doing feels nice. “You’re coming with me?”

He suddenly shifts forward and now only my heels are left on the edge and my body is titling forward. Ben’s heart syncs with mine and we’re both breathing hard, getting off on the rush of doing something potentially treacherous.

“I’m with you. And love?”

My eyes close as I savour the feel of Ben, the wind on my cheeks, and the feeling of being this free and wild. “Hmm?”

“Don’t forget to look down.”

Chapter 12 Lee Handles The Truth

My eyes pop open as we fall forward off the edge. Ben lets go of my hands and he’s lost to me, not that his whereabouts is my focus. The ground rushes up to meet me frighteningly fast and my arms and legs circle in front of me in a blind panic. The white canopy of the dome rushes by, the lights blur, and sound becomes a melody nearly drowned out by the sound of my petrified screaming. Oh god, I’m having flashes of a CSI team scraping up my spattered remains.

‘Love, let go. Let it happen.’

Placing my trust in Ben, and myself, I let go and instinct takes over. My torso twists and I summersault around until my legs are beneath me, my arms out to my side. I land squarely on my feet. Pain jolts up my legs from my heels and my spine creaks in protest, the base of my skull tingling. Gravity keeps on tugging me down and I fall onto my hands and knees, struggling to breathe. Yeah, I land on my feet, but damn does it hurt. My whole body trembles as I flex my toes, hearing the joints pop. Maybe it would hurt less if I were wearing shoes. I take another deep breath and stand up looking for Ben.

Windswept, he holds the flailing woman in a headlock, waiting for me. There is a look of fierce pride on his expression as he shoves the girl in my direction. “Feed, love. Your body needs it.”

The woman quakes in my arms. Her mascara has slipped down her face with her tears, leaving her with bloodshot panda eyes, and her lip-gloss is smeared to demented clown proportions. She looks pitiful in her too low top and too short skirt. Her fake tan fails to hide the deathly pallor of her skin. She peeks up at me with undiluted fear, the sharp stink of it wafts from her, and I find my body reacting to it. Her blood thunders, heart racing, and the smell of her blood beneath her skin is a siren call. My face changes, fangs lengthening and grazing my bottom lip. My throat contracts and burns like fire. Oh goodness, my tongue is dry, parched. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. I lower my head and yank her head to the side. I place my lips at her throat; feel her pulse beat wildly against them. My toes curl and my stomach cramps, rumbling loudly … so tempting. I clench my jaw in a one jerky move and pierce the bulging vein in her neck, cringing as I do. But once the hot, wet blood splashes against the inner curve of my cheeks, I suck harder. Her blood gushes, coats the back of my throat, and I groan when the burn is extinguished. I clutch her to me, swallow, and my brain ricochets off the inside of my skull. This new extra part of me attaches itself to something unseen inside of her and draws energy from it. I feel revitalized the longer it leeches off her, so I throw more power and focus into taking whatever it is that makes me feel so good. I feel amazing, powerful, and strong. No, I’m not only drinking her blood, but stealing some of her soul, I think. As it sinks into me, it nourishes the twisted shell of what is left of my own.

Ben wrenches me away and the woman folds in on herself. I snarl at him, ready to go for the jugular. “Control yourself,” he growls, arm extended towards me hand fisted. “I promised you no death, and I mean to keep that promise.”

His gorgeous voice penetrates the fog of hunger, and I shudder, reining myself in. “She’s alive?” I ask in a deep voice tainted with yearning.

Ben watches me warily. “She lives, and will be nothing but a little anaemic, which will right itself over a short time. You drank much.”

I look away as Ben picks her up and places her on a nearby bench. He pulls her skirt down to cover her modesty and places her handbag under her head to keep it safe. Huh. He treats female prey with more care than male. Thumbing her eyelids back, he speaks in a low calming voice. He tells her to forget what she has seen, and convinces her she and her partner had too much to drink and became separated. He also tells her to avoid secluded areas at night. Once done, he comes back to me and looks me over.

I wipe away the blood on my mouth, and strangely, I want to cry. How horrible I am now! That was violent, and creepy, but I liked it. I feel better. Stronger. How sick is that? Oh, but this is what I asked for isn’t it? To be with Ben forever, like this, always.

Was it bad that I got off on her fear? Her terror made the feeding more pleasurable for me.

“Ah, love. You have seen me feed before. You know what we are, and what our instincts demand of us. What you felt was natural.” Ben enfolds me in a hug. “My first night, I slaughtered an entire household. I was monstrous. I was evil incarnate. You did not even kill your first prey. You are special, kind, and amazingly restrained.”

I hug him tighter. “I wanted to kill her,” I confess in a tiny voice. “I wanted to feel her neck snap, hear the bones crack, and swallow her blood and soul until I was bursting with them.” A sob tears from my throat. “I still do. And I cry not because this sickens me, but because I want it so badly I taste it, hear it. Oh Ben, I never realised…” I’m unable to go on.

“I … I am not sure what you need from me.” He sounds miserable, and I hang my head in shame, because I caused this unhappiness. “I knew this would be hard for one as kind hearted as you, but I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t think I can. It will always be like this, maybe worse. It is what we are, how we live. You knew that I killed and now you know why. The urge not only to feed, but to take life, rides you hard and never lets up.”

Hmm. Well, I’ve proved I’m able to feed without killing. If Ben always makes sure I don’t go too far maybe I don’t have to feel so guilty. And if I control myself maybe Ben can too.

“And what of the rest of our kind?” Ben asks. “Do you think they will find it easy to change millennia of habit?”

I’m taken aback by the tone of his voice. Releasing my hold on his waist, I step away, confusion painted across my expression. “I’m not asking for anybody else to change. I would hope you wouldn’t kill anymore, but I can’t force you. Or anybody else for that matter. Why would they listen to me anyway?”

“You’re the Child. They would feel compelled to follow your example and it would go against every hunting instinct they have to not kill.” I scowl, becoming more confused. “You still don’t understand,” Ben says and runs a hand over his face. “You are not important to the others, you are everything. They will do what you say in all things, even if it goes against their nature.”

Erm, I still don’t get it! Why wouldn’t he spit it out?

“It’s more complicated than that,” he snaps and walks off down the bank away from the dome. “For the past month as you turned, I have been resisting Daniel, protecting you from him. He’s waiting for the opportunity to declare me unfit to be your guide in this life.”

I struggle to catch up. “Okay, well, so far you haven’t done anything wrong.”

He laughs without mirth, his agitation becoming increasing obvious. “The car accident? The Lycans catching us on their land? No doubt they will tell their Alpha.”

I grin smugly. “No. Harmony said she wouldn’t tell if we didn’t.”

“Harmony is whom?”

“That was her name, the she-wolf. She was nice.”

Ben’s face twists into a dumbfounded look before he shakes his head, muttering to himself. “This will mean our meeting with the others will happen much sooner than I anticipated. Daniel has already openly expressed dissatisfaction with this union, and he does have followers, as inconceivable as it seems.”

“I think you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Why don’t we–”

“Will you be quiet for a moment so I can think!”

I’m stunned. Ben has never spoken to me like this before. I– I don’t know what to do. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling absurdly emotional, and blink back tears. Crying blood in the middle of Docklands would not be a good idea, I don’t think. I turn to look out over the Thames and keep blinking until I think I have a better hold on everything; then lean on the railing, trying to figure out if I was in the wrong here or him. No, I had done nothing. He was being ill mannered and an asshole because he felt guilty about something. Ben had a tendency to turn nasty once he felt guilty, I could see that now. Oh love, why won’t you talk to me? Explain things. I rub my head, trying to access little bits of information knocking around in my head, but it feels like I’m dunking myself into a vast sea of words, drowning in them. I pull back.

‘You will hate me.’ The quiet thought is laced with grief and I fight to hold back tears again.

How could I ever…? I mean … I just…! I’m so taken aback at how horrible this night is becoming I cannot think straight. Yes, this situation with the Lycans we bumped into might turn bad at some point, but from what I gathered there was a major history between the two races. If we offended them by going onto their territory we could make reparation, right?

“Do you know why the Lycan sniffed you and then left?” Ben asks quietly, interjecting into my thoughts. “They ran because to touch you means death. Their kind despises ours, but we have not had an open war in centuries. There are rules we follow to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. To touch you would mean they would be torn apart by their own pack.”

“But why?” I ask in earnest. “Explain, please.”

“You carry the venom that can turn a human into one of us.”

What the hell? That is it? I shrug, and make a sweeping motion with my hand. “So do you.”

Ben smiles sadly. “Not anymore I don’t. I have turned you. The curse has passed on.”

I blink and work this though my mind. His words don’t sound new to me, not that anything does anymore, with all this knowledge lurking in my head. It’s just a matter of accessing it. His words trigger a sort of understanding, and it comes to me in a sudden flash. “Eighteen generations,” I breathe, “but this bloodline isn’t one of many, is it? It’s the only bloodline.”

“Yes, love, and its nineteen generations now.” Ben clasps my hand loosely in his. “For the next three hundred years, the curse will grow in potency in your blood, and after this time has passed you will carry enough venom and power to turn the next. If you die, our race ends. The energy of the Child sustains us; the curse is the crux of our life force. If you are no more, your energy would leave us and we would not be able to nourish ourselves unless we drink hundreds in one night, simply impossible. This is why the Child is protected devoutly without question by all of us.”

“Daniel fought you.”

“No. I fought him, threw myself in his way. He was trying to move around me to get to you. I forced him to fight to defend himself. All his moves were defensive. If he attacked me Simone and Adam would have destroyed him without hesitation. This is why the Lycans fear you, because to threaten the Child is to invite death. None of us would sleep until the one who harmed you was ripped to shreds.”

“There are so few of us,” I whisper. “And that is why.”

He nods. “I suppose it was a way to curb the spread of the curse. Can you imagine if we could turn as many people as we liked? No doubt the earth would be swarming with us. Humans would be cattle, nothing more than slaves and food. What a horrible world that would be.”

Look at that, Lee. Afzal did say you misunderstood. What a responsibility. One you cannot escape or let go of until you pass this burden onto another.

Can I be This Person? Ha! I have no choice, it’s what I am now isn’t it? How would I ever make such a choice? Condemn someone like that? Before this, I was never going to turn anybody. I could make the choice for myself, to forsake my soul and be with Ben, but I couldn’t damn another. Unbelievably, my kind follows the newborn, the Child, until the next is chosen and turned.

They all followed me.

Oh, this explains why Ben was so upset. If I stop killing, and order the rest to do so it will cause strife and dissention, especially with Daniel making waves. Could Daniel convince the others Ben was not guiding me properly? I knew that Simone and Adam were loyal, they had protected me from Daniel before, and stood with Ben. Will Iain and Afzal choose us? Would the rest? I don’t know them at all to make that kind of judgment call.

Ben says nothing in reaction to my mental breakdown, and this makes me angrier. ‘Is this why you did not tell me? You tricked me!’

“Now do you see how evil and monstrous I am? I wanted you so badly, the thought of not having you was enough to send me mad. I couldn’t bear the thought of you not being in my world, and so, I chained you to the dark, even knowing it would mean my life; that I would not be able to stay with you.”

“Your life?”

“Daniel means to get me out of the way, love. The moment you opened your eyes the power and influence that I had as the Child left me and filled you. The moment that happened the one thing stopping him from destroying me was cast aside.”

“The others–”

“Hold allegiance to you now not me. I am expendable if it means you would be safe.”

I am … furious. Was he stupid? Insane? Daniel would try to harm him now in some sick attempt to control me, and what for? So that he can have a say in whom I turn next? Stupid man, I will never change another, I will die first.

“He will force you. The poison will build in your system, and soon all you can think about is biting someone and making them like you. Daniel can be … most persuasive when he wants to be.”

“Soon?” I brush his mind for the answer, impatient. Oh yes, the three hundred year benchmark? I know that time is vast, logically, but to my mind and body, so stuffed with life and knowledge, it feels right around the corner.

I breathe in deeply, hold it, then let it go, exhaling all my frustration and anger with it. What else was I to do? It was done, I was like Ben now, and it was what I wanted. I had known there was something crucial he had not told me, but I had never dreamed … no, no! I would stop thinking of it as a negative. Tonight is the first night of my forever with Ben. It is a celebration.

“Ben?” He turns to me, eyes filled with regret. Did he honestly think I would reject him? “Kiss me. Please.”

A brilliant smile is beamed at me, then fear casts a dark shadow over his visage. Such extreme reactions play out but both are eventually replaced with relief. He cups the nape of my neck and slants his mouth over mine. Oh Ben! I will never give this feeling up. Never will I turn from you, darling. Have you not yet realised I’m not like other women? As long as you are honest and straight with me, I will withstand most things. I understand why you did not tell me. How huge and daunting. I would have given anything to have you as my man, and, I’m glad I did give everything to ensure you are.

‘He will take you from me.’ This thought is barely a whisper.

I lean away to see real terror in Ben’s eyes. ‘Is he stronger?’

‘Much. It took him four hundred years to choose me. The longest anybody has ever taken. I have been nothing but a disappointment to him.’

Okay, we get stronger with age. The only thing that gives me an upper hand on Daniel, on all of my kind, is the fact I’m untouchable because I hold the key to their continued survival.

Lord Daniel has set his sights on owning me rather than killing me now has he? Such a deranged man, why all this drama?

‘He wants power.’ Ben strokes my arm. ‘Can you not feel it, the connection to us all? The headiness of knowing so little can harm you? It is difficult to go from being crucial to simply another face. Daniel wants power, nothing more. Men of his kind cannot be reasoned with or made to see sense other than what they have tricked themselves into believing.’

“He will try to control me.”

“Yes.”

I place my hands on his shoulders. ‘Then we shall have to simply thwart his evil schemes and live happily ever after, hmm?’ I wiggle my eyebrows and give Ben a coy look.

He laughs, his chin dimple showing. It’s sweet, a welcome sight, and I place a kiss on it.

My dearest, it will be all right, don’t fret another moment. Daniel will never own me, I’ve already been claimed, and there will never be another for me. Besides, Daniel may be strong, but there are others who are stronger. Who is Daniel’s Sire? Maybe he or she will have the answer.

‘Anya, Daniel’s Sire, is with us no longer.’ Oh yes, Iain did tell me this, my lineage. Puzzled, I try to find memory of Anya’s death and frown when I find nothing. Strangely enough, I have thoughts of a young blonde boy about fifteen years of age with warm brown eyes and a twitchy disposition. ‘Soon, you will learn that there are certain memories that you can … erase. I too looked for Daniel’s memories of her, and it appears he destroyed them all.’

“I see a blonde boy when I think of Anya.”

A smile breaks on Ben’s face. “You know his name. Think hard, love.”

I do and it comes to me like bad reception on a TV, there are blank spots, and the images are skewed. “Sam? He was Anya’s descendant and Daniel hurt him … but he didn’t know Sam was related to Anya….” I stifle a curse as the memory slips from me. Ben smiles, as if he knows what’s happening. I narrow my eyes at him. Why you cheeky bugger!

“I cannot tell you everything,” he laughs. “Some things you must learn by yourself.” Oh, I love to see him happy, but as quickly as this comic relief animated him, it fades. The happy look tumbles off his face and he’s worried again.

Hmm. Daniel. A complicated man, I see, and up to no good where my Ben is concerned. There could be only one reason for his reckless and self-centred behaviour. After all, it was the emotion that triumphs over all and can tip the balance of even the most hopeless situation. If I remember correctly, when he came to my flat to kill me Daniel had let some of his anguish slip. “I think he loved her, and let her turn him, but after he killed her descendant she turned from him. Whatever happened next resulted in her death.”

Ben brushes hair off my face and curls it around my ear. “You are quite perceptive.”

“And she did not love him enough to forgive him his mistake?”

He considers me for a while before answering. “There are some of us that believe we should not mate each other. That it is bound to end us one day. First Daniel and Anya, now you and me. I chose you because I love you, just like she chose him for love, and the thought of walking this earth without you is unbearable. What could I have done differently? I couldn’t risk you in my world as fragile as you were, and even after we parted, it was too late, you were already in too deep.”

“This is not your fault. It’s his.”

“Is it? Daniel is surviving the only way he knows how, by filling up he hole she left behind.” Ben kisses my forehead. “I love you, but it was a mistake to do so.”

This hurts, but I bat his words away. “There is nothing wrong with what we feel for each other. So, a few couples before us royally cocked things up, no matter. It doesn’t mean we’ll do the same. Look at Simone and Adam, they’re making it work.”

“Barely.”

“Whatever. Darling, you are depressing me and worrying over nothing. We’ll sort your Sire out and it will be fine. Believe it, and we’ll be one step closer to achieving it.”

He twists away from me to look out over the water. “I am disquieted. I fear the worst.”

With a sigh, and a roll of my eyes, I place my hands on his strong back and lean my cheek in between them. I have no more words for him. I hope the love in my heart will speak for me instead.

‘What now?’

“Bethany,” I reply.

Chapter 13 Bye, Bye Bethany

Outside Bethany’s house, I breathe in deeply. I open my eyes and smile, feeling my lips pull back over my fangs. “They’re here,” I breathe.

I bend my legs and Ben snags my arm to spin me around roughly. “Someone is awake, I hear it.”

“I know.”

“Should the worst occur, you will cause your friend pain if you do this.”

His hand digs into my arm. “The problem is not with me killing him,” I say slowly. “Somehow you think hurting him will hurt me.”

“Your friend will grieve for him. She will have lost two people she loves, and this will cause you pain.”

“Bethany will never lose me,” I bite back furiously.

‘You are in love with her.’ Ben’s voice is pained; he couldn’t even speak the words aloud.

I step into him and tickle his sides. ‘I love her, deeply, but I am in love with you.’

His dark eyes twinkle down at me. ‘You sound so certain.’

“That is because I am,” I murmur into his mouth before I slant my lips over his and kiss him with all the passion and love I feel. He wraps his arms around me tightly, pulling me close. My stomach cramps painfully, making a harsh crunching sound. I cry out and Ben splays a hand to my stomach and rubs soothingly.

‘You must feed again before we make our way back to Castle. There are precious few hours before the sun rises. Come now. Let us leave this for another night.’

“I want to see her. Please.” Ben swoops me into his arms and smiles down at me. His previous anguish has been pushed away and he is genuinely happy.

“As you wish.”

“I’m perfectly able to walk.” I quirk my eyebrow and loop my arms around his neck to snuggle closer.

“The feel of you in my arms is pleasurable. I never was one to deny myself pleasure.” He glances up. “We could take the stairs?”

“That would be no fun, and I want to surprise her with how cool I am.”

Chuckling, he bends his knees and jumps, landing silently on the small balcony outside Bethany’s window. I rap on it loudly, my best I Am A Scary Creature Of The Night face firmly in place. Nothing. I tap the window again when there is no answer.

A hushed murmur reaches me from inside the flat, a male voice demanding Bethany get up and check the window. Wow, Derek really is an asshole. The heavy curtain rustles and a pair of eyes peeks at us then disappear. What on earth? Another hushed and panicked whisper for Bethany to get up. Something is not right. Beth is an insomniac, and though dawn is drawing closer, she would probably have slept a few hours and be up by now, tearing her hair out and moaning about bags under her eyes.

I smash my fist through the window and undo the latch, sliding the frame up. I clamber down from Ben’s arms and climb inside.

‘We need to work on your patience,’ Ben says dryly. ‘You frightened him.’

Landing inside the flat, I ignore the crunch of glass beneath my feet and scan the room. Bethany lies on the bed. Derek shakes her roughly mumbling for her to wake up. The room is dishevelled, nasty really. Not like Bethany at all. Her cleanliness borders on obsessive compulsive.

“Bethany knows what I’m about. Don’t you,” I joke, to get her attention. Derek clutches his head and cries out. Bethany does not respond. What’s wrong? Is she pissed at me because of how long I have been gone? “Beth, sweets, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you but there’s a good reason. Look at me, please; you’re going to freak out when you can see what I can do now. Beth? Come on, look at me.”

Ben stares at Bethany on the bed, concentrating. ‘Love, you forget what my voice used to do to you,’ Ben reminds me.

Oh gosh. I clamp my lips together guiltily. I totally forgot about that part.

My friend is still turned onto her side, so still. The scent of her fear is rank in the small room, and what is most disturbing of all … I think I smell … death. I shudder. Bethany, afraid of me? I’ve known this girl my whole life, been through more than I can remember. No matter what I’ve become, or how much my voice hurts her ears, she will never be afraid of me.

Ben’s hand lands on my upper arm. He sniffs and tightens his hold on me. ‘Love, you must remain calm.’

“Why do I need to be calm? What’s going on here?”

“What’s wrong with your voice, you freak? Get the fuck out of my house!” Derek, still shrieking nonsense jumps off the bed and lunges for the light switch. I react, and in a blur of movement, I have him by the throat and half way up the wall, legs dangling.

“Tisk, tisk,” I chide and pat his cheek with my free hand. “The bright lights still hurt my eyes. You understand, don’t you?”

He rubs the side of head into the wall trying to both tear my hand from his throat and rub his other ear “Lee? Is that you?” he squeaks and angles his head down to get a better look at me. “We thought you were dead.”

Dark hair matted to his head, Derek’s skin has an almost grey tinge. His lips are dry and cracked, and his pupils are like saucers: corneas jaundiced and bloodshot. His eyelid keeps twitching. Sweat beads his brow and trickles down his temples. Oh. Now I’m closer I hear his heart chugging. Each pump from the organ pushes heat through the air to flutter across my colder skin. I inhale deeply. He’s a smoker, is that why Beth started up again, his bad influence?  Ugh, his blood is saturated with nicotine and caffeine. He’s also taken something else, recently, a stronger drug. I smell it coming off him, so pungent I taste it. I gag. My eyes glance down his body continuing my harsh assessment and finally rest on his hands. There are bruises on his knuckles, some old and some fresh. He’s been hitting something, beating someone.

The world is turning black at the edges. My entire body quakes as my head turns slightly to where Bethany lies.

“Love… .” Ben takes a hesitant step toward me, his eyes now pained and still resting on Bethany. “Don’t–”

I drop Derek and rush over to Beth, dragging her shoulder back, and pinning her to the bed. She does not fight me – not like her at all. One eyeball is rolled into the back of her head and one is puffed closed, swollen and purple. She has no wig on and her gamine cut is matted, sticking up at haphazard angles in clumps. Lips blue, her skin is chalk white. I hear no heartbeat. Her chest is silent, her blood still. Lifeless flesh. Dead. I choke out a sob. I pick up her arm gently, it’s stone cold, and the needle sticking from the crook of her arm wobbles. I wrench it from her skin, crush it in hand, and drop it to the floor beside us.

“Bethany is not a junkie,” I manage. “She would have told me.”

Ben says nothing. Derek is crying, heaving sobs as he claws at the wall.

I press my fingers to the side of her bruised face. I follow the touch with my lips, ignoring the horrible smell on her ashen skin. Bethany usually smells like baby lotion.

Lee, you’ve been gone a month, and as wonderful as Beth is, she’s always had an addictive personality.

I feel sick. My skin crawls at the thought of her sticking needles into herself to get high.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I push my thoughts to the back of my head. Further inspection of her skin shows further track marks. She hadn’t even tried to hide it. Yeah, she’d done a few joints in Uni, but she’d never done anything remotely close to this. What happened to my friend? I rest her head to the side, stroke her swollen eye, and close the other lid.

Rage rumbles beneath the surface, a red haze that blackens at the corners. I have to get my anger under control or I will end up killing him far too quickly. I was going to take this slow, nice and slow, and painful.

I gracefully roll off the bed onto my feet. “Derek, you sonofa– Ben!”

Ben is latched onto Derek’s neck, his entire body rigid. He throws his head back with a pained gasp. “Ugh. He tastes foul.” Dropping Derek to the floor he swipes a hand over his mouth, disgust in the move. “I sucked out most of the poison. You’re too young to ingest hard drugs.” He reaches his hand toward me, concern etched into his features. “It would make you ill.” He winces and places a hand to his temple.

In a blink, I’m at his side, worried, frightened. Ben has never shown any physical weakness before now. My heart hammers hard. Is he dying? Is he sick? Will he leave me like Beth has, Grief washes over me, my heart sinks, the room spins but I push through it. ‘Are you well?’ I ask Ben. ‘What should I do?’

“Calm yourself.” Ben strokes my face. “Breathe slowly. Human drugs do not agree with our system. I’ll be fine tomorrow night after I feed again. I’ll be weaker until then.”

I allow myself to breathe out, let myself be calm like he asks of me.

Pitiful whimpering draws my attention away from him, and I tilt my head down expecting to see Derek, but instead see the dirty soles of his feet. I grab his foot and drag him back. Picking him up by the hair, I body slam him onto the bed, the weight means nothing to me now. I straddle him in the next moment, my fangs bared.

He screams.

“This will not make you feel better.” Ben stands beside me. Derek rears up and he places a finger in the middle of Derek’s forehead to push him down flat. “But I understand.”

My brow slants, my teeth lengthen, and all sympathy and vestiges of humanity flee in the face of the monster that consumes me. Snarling, I yank his head back and bury my teeth into his throat. Blood spurts. His scream becomes a wet gurgle; his body’s bucking, a feeble struggle. I am not gentle. I bite down hard, sucking the life from him, and having a good fucking time whilst doing it.

Flashes strobe in front of my eyes, visions of Bethany crying, his hands fisted around her neck as he squeezes the air from her and takes her brutally. I feel it when his balled up fist connects with the side of her head. I hear and feel the crunch as her skull fractures. I feel his arousal at her weakness, the rush of power he experiences from this sick display of dominance. He likes hurting her, and likes making women feel small and insignificant. The next flash makes my heart sink to the soles of my feet. It’s of me and Bethany, her head between my legs, and I’m arched off the bed. His jealousy and lust choke me as he pleasures himself from the bushes outside.

How did I not see how cruel he was before now? How did I miss this? Why didn’t she tell me?

I flex my jaw. His puny fists try to fight me off, thumping my sides. There is a snap and he shrieks. Swallowing, I glance off to the side and see Ben has broken his arm. Well, he asked for it. Like my man was going to stand there and watch him hit me.

Derek’s is dying. He’s lost too much blood and the terror is too much for his heart.

Make your choice, Lee. Does he live or does he die?

I draw my teeth out of him and lean back. My body feels alive, warm. I trawl my hands through my hair and roll my shoulders. Bethany’s loss weighs heavily on my heart, but Derek’s pain lightens the load. I am not ashamed to admit it. He sobs beneath me, and I slap him across the face, making his head jack-knife to the side. He gets the message and shuts up.

Ben is carefully checking Bethany over. His face is furious and twists in disgust as Derek whimpers beneath me. When he looks back at Bethany his expression softens. “She suffered, but is at peace now.” I look at my friend lying beside me, and my eyes mist with red again. This time it’s not from anger. I blink as tears of blood leak down my face. Ben unceremoniously pushes Derek’s lax body off the bed. He lands with a thump in a broken heap. Ben gathers me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. “Hush now, you didn’t know, couldn’t have known.”

“I should have noticed,” I mumble, hiccup. I wipe my mouth and grimace when a chunk of Derek’s flesh slides off my fang. “She was my best friend. I should have seen what he was doing to her. God, Ben, why didn’t she tell me?”

He’s quiet for a while, his hands rubbing my back. “Would you have told her? Honestly?”

My instinct is to say yes, I would have told her, but I pause, because the truth is staring me in the face. I had not told her about Ben when I first met him, and I was not sure I would have. She only found out because he had a wish to meet someone from my family. Shit. I understand why she had not said anything. As close as we were, you just didn’t tell some things to certain people. Not only was Bethany my friend, she had been a lover. In either capacity I would have… well, I would have freaked had I found out how terribly Derek was treating her.

Shifting from Ben’s arms, I pick up the edges of the blanket Bethany lies on top of and wrap her up tightly. I kiss her forehead and pray she’s found peace.

Leaning over the edge of the bed, I take Derek’s head in my hands and twist until I hear the fatal crack. The lines of his body go limp. Dropping him, I rub my hands on my thighs then climb off the bed and head toward the door. “There was no longer a place for him in this world.”

“That is for you to decide?”

I stop and turn to face him slowly. “Now you get moral?”

“Did you kill him for Beth or to make yourself feel better?”

I hold up my hand to signal that he should stop talking. “I’ll put a call in to the police later.” Never will I come back here. Never.

Ben follows silently behind me.

Outside, I’m charging down the pavement trying to work of some of my aggression. I shake my hands, flicking away the ugly feeling that had coiled inside me and sprung forth, demanding I end Derek.

“Lee,” Ben says urgently, voice cracking with emotion. “Please wait. I’m sorry. Let’s talk, remember her.”

My anger dissipates. Like a storm cloud that is spent, it breaks apart, and the whirlwind of pain is no more. I spin around, open my mouth, and close it. I shake my head and chuckle. “I’ll not mourn her. She was vibrant, a force of nature. Bethany’s life will be celebrated, and I will never forget her. She was too wonderful to deserve anything less.” I beam at him, honestly feeling better, and laugh. “Ben, you said my name.” It was the first time, and it sounded marvellous from his lips.

Screeching around the corner, a sports car careens to a halt in front of us, bouncing up onto the curb. The engine purrs. My god, it might just be sexier than Ben’s motorbike.

The driver’s tinted window rolls down and Iain, face etched in leans out. “Daniel killed a Lycan. The body lies on Castle steps.”

There is a strained silence as the reality of that statement sinks in.

Lycans. War. Death.

“The fool,” Ben hisses. “He will bring the entire pack down on my head.”

“I think that is the plan,” Afzal’s deep voice says from the passenger seat. I see his tense lower body, his huge hands fisted on his thighs.

“How did you find us?” I ask Iain.

He smirks at me, eyes flicking to my mouth, to my eyes, and taking in the blood on my chin and chest. “All of us can find ye. Welcome to the family, Lee. Was dinner good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I’m already sliding into the back seat of the car. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 14 To Battle The Undying

The drive passes in silence. I am too wrapped in my own fight to not let melancholy taint Bethany’s passing, and Ben is too furious at the death of the Lycan speak.

“We’re being hunted,” Afzal says matter of fact and cracks his knuckles.

I look out the window, my keen eyesight laser sharp in the dark. True enough, shadows race beside us, weaving in and out of the tress.

Wolves.

“Lycans,” Ben murmurs. “ It took two hundred years to broker peace after the last war Daniel declared.” He sighs heavily and clasps my fingers. “I count three to the north east.”

“Two my side,” Afzal adds. “Easy.”

Easy? To kill them? No. What would that achieve?

‘It is necessary,’ Ben thinks to me. ‘They will not listen to reason. One of us has killed one of them. That is all they care about. We must keep you safe.’

‘We can try,’ I plead. ‘They may still listen if we explain.’

‘It is too dangerous.’

“Stop the car,” I demand out loud. ‘Now,’ I add in my mind and all three flinch, hunching their shoulders.

Surprisingly, Iain hits the breaks. We jolt forward and slam back into the leather seats. I use the shock of the whiplash to jump out of the car a second before Ben makes a grab for me. “Lee!” he roars.

Wolves double the size of Alsatians lunge from the woods onto the road; their powerful bodies thickly muscled and long-legged. Crouching, gathering themselves, they spring forward to streak towards me, teeth bared, snarling. The pack is shaggy and coloured in hues of dark brown and black. Their teeth glow in the darkness. Narrowed oval eyes ranging from deep green to vivid amber blaze hatred. Calmly, I cast my gaze over them again and do not see the silky chestnut coat, and mysterious blue gaze I was hoping for.

“Harmony!” I screech. “If any of you can hear me or understand me, I demand to speak to Harmony.”

The wolves scramble to a stop, claws clattering as they backpedal at the familiar name. My fists clench at my sides, nails scraping my palm, and my stomach summersaults. Thank goodness for that. Their sleek heads swing from side to side, uncertain, and after less than a beat, one rumbles sullenly lifting his head to the sky. He howls piercingly, long, and deep. It echoes through the trees, steals away through the night carrying power that is unknown to my kind. I focus on this one. His fur is more hirsute than the others, and a smoky grey is clumped around the jowls. He looks familiar…. The rest follow him, growling, hot breath rushing from elongated maws in clouds of dense vapour. The agitated pacing makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Afzal places a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back until I stand behind him, Ben, and Iain, who plant themselves firmly in front of me. Ben is closest, his hand held out slightly to the side in front of me protectively.

“This had better work,” he grits through his teeth.

“It’ll work,” I reply with more confidence than I actually feel. Please, please let this work. “In the car you said this would be easy?”

“Och, already I forget you’re new.” Iain turns his head toward me but his eyes stay on the Lycans. “Five wolves against three of us is not worth blinking an eye at,” he explains casually looking the most relaxed of the three. “Five wolves against one of us is easy. Afzal was going to take care of it.”

I look at the wolves and know my distress must show on my face. “They were ready to face you and die?”

“They’re Lycans, lass,” Iain scoffs. “Stubborn and stupid to the end.”

The pack crouch as one and snarl, the insult ruffling them. The smoky wolf weaves between them and faces them down until they are quiet and composed.

“Well look what we have here,” says a familiar voice from behind us.

Ben pulls me into him, turning to the side and Afzal faces down the wolves in front, as Iain pivots to guard the rear. We’re surrounded. I’m not worried for us now that Iain has explained how many Lycans one of us can handle, but I’m afraid for them and what killing another six of them will mean.

Harmony is alone on the other side, naked, with leaves in her wild hair and smudges of mud over her face and body. She stands with her hands crossed, hip cocked to one side and expression hard. “Lee, wish I could say it was good to see you again so soon, but it’s not.”

“Harmony,” I say in relief and try to step away from Ben. His hold does not loosen one iota, so I twist within his embrace, his arms locked around my middle and wave at her. “I need your help.”

Her bark of laughter is loud and sudden. “My help? You’re out of your god damned mind if you think you’re going to get anything from me.”

“Listen, I heard Daniel killed one of you–”

“My baby cousin,” she interjects with venom. “Sean was nineteen years old, peaceful, one of the gentlest wolves I knew. Your man snatched him outside of Pack land when he wasn’t expecting an attack. He wanted to be a Veterinarian, believe it or not, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for the bastard who snapped his neck and left him on display outside that swanky castle you have up the road.”

I swallow hard. There is real pain in her voice, and real hate for my kind too. “Daniel, the one who killed him is … not right in the head. We’re going back to Castle to bring him to justice.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because if we truly wanted you dead you would be,” I jerk my head to the wolves that pace behind me, eyeing up Afzal. “I asked them to call you to avoid any more bloodshed.”

“Why me?”

“You said you were the daughter of the Alpha. Liam?”

She stares at me. “So?”

“Can’t you help?”

Harmony’s expression shifts into frustration. “What do you want?”

“Time. We’re going to Castle either with or without taking down a whole bunch of you along the way.”

“Optimistic.”

“No,” I bite back, shaking my head. “Realistic. Daniel needs to be dealt with. I asked for you because I thought you might be able to reason with your pack. To explain what’s happened.”

Harmony uncrosses her arms and walks forward. She bowls past Iain, playful eyes pinning him down, her every move goading him to touch her. He shoots a look at me for reassurance and I give it with a nod of my head. Ben tenses. I pat his arm in comfort and lean forward. Harmony stops in front of me quirking an eyebrow at Ben’s arm clamped my waist.

“I thought I had it bad with Sy,” she jokes. The smoky wolf makes an odd chuffing sound and I realize it’s laughter. Harmony growls in his directions and he shuts up. “Explain then Snaggle-tooth. What’s happening here?”

Adjusting myself in Ben’s militant embrace, I breathe out in relief. Maybe this could work. “One of my kind has attacked yours in an attempt to get us to fight. He wants to control me, and knows the best way to do this is to create chaos so he’s free to destroy Ben. He wants a war. I need for you all to stay out of this.”

She’s quiet. Her sapphire eyes shift from us, to the wolves, and back to us again. “From what I’ve seen of your people you don’t take threats to your lives lightly. That one of us is lying out in the open, on your steps, right in view of a boundary line does seem … reckless. Strangely so.” Her hands fist at her sides. “What of the Pack brother we’ve lost? Your words can’t bring him back.”

On an impulse, I clasp her balled up hand and squeeze. She flinches, but does not tug her hand away. “I swear I will make it up to you. To your whole pack as soon as I’m able.” I look her in the eyes. Please, we girls have to stick together. Give in and believe in me. Please. “Trust me,” I finish urgently.

Pulling her hand away, Harmony taps her fingers on her upper thigh before shaking her head sadly. “I believe you, Lee. I really do, but I’m the youngest daughter and already out of favour with my Alpha.” She turns to the side and brushes her fingers over a pinkish scar. Teeth marks. “Earlier tonight, after our first encounter, I had every intention of not telling you were on our land, as long as you kept your mouth shut about Sy attacking you without warning. But when Sean’s body was seen on those castle steps, Daddy demanded to know if there had been any unusual activity our land. Sy’s a Beta and was compelled to answer. The scar is my punishment for betraying my Pack. Daddy can’t bear to even acknowledge I exist right now. If I was to ask him to stand down because one of you asked me to….” She shrugs. “I can’t help you when it comes to him, it’s not my place. Maybe if I was Alpha female I could, but the fact is, I’m not. My older sister is and she’s Daddy’s little girl now, about to get shackled to Mr Right, and I’m on the shit list.” She punches me on the arm and grins. “I can call this lot off though. Get going, and you’d better sort this or I’ll come after you myself.” Hearing her declaration, the wolves bark furiously and rock back and forth, readying themselves to attack. Harmony barges passed Afzal and faces them off. “You defy me?” she growls and stares them all in the eyes. One by one, they stop and place their noses to the ground. “Go now,” she rasps over her bare shoulder at us.

Her eyes glow green and nose lengthens, entire face sloping, changing. Skin rippling, she sprouts russet fur as she hunches over and morphs from human to wolf, paws touching the ground. Her growing tail flicks back and forth violently as she opens her maw flashing deadly fangs at the male wolves nipping her hind legs.

The wind blows hair in my face and mouth, blocking my view of the last stages of her incredible transformation. I had seen it once before, but I will never get used to it. “Thank you,” I say in a rush as Ben propels me forward and past the car, its doors still open, hazard lights blinking. “We’re not driving?”

“No,” Ben replies shortly. “Castle is less than ten miles.”

His attention switches from me to the two men guarding our backs as we hurry away down the road and around the bend. The wolves howl, but the sound becomes more distant. Harmony is leading them away.

“Iain, guard Lee. Do not let her follow. Afzal, with me.” Ben’s iron grip is immediately replaced with Iain’s.

“Wait,” I cry and grab Ben’s arm. He does not look at me. His gaze is fixed down the road, towards Castle, as if he believes his destiny awaits him there instead of seeing it stands beside him. “Don’t leave me behind.”

‘I cannot risk you,’ he replies in a frantic thought. ‘I can no longer run from him, but you’re safe now.’ His thoughts are distant, half formed, and filled with violence and death. ‘You’ll be safe.’

‘Don’t you dare!’

Ben wrenches his arm away and takes off with Afzal beside him. In a blink, they are gone and I’m left struggling and crying in Iain’s arms. No, no! Ben, please don’t go. What will I do if you fail, if you die…? “Iain, you must let me go to him.”

“But Ben says–”

“He’s not your leader anymore,” I shout. “I am, so please, let’s follow him. We can catch up before they get there if we try. Let’s just try, I promise Ben won’t be mad.”

Wow, that was a big fat lie, but if I have to promise Iain a day in sunlight to get him to let me go, I will. How can he be defying me anyway? He’d shown Ben nothing but obedience when he was the Child. So why does Iain defy me? I’ve asked him outright to … ah! Is that the problem?

Ask.

Why ask, Lee? Why not tell.

I stop crying and pull my shit together. When I open my eyes, my mind is clear, and my resolve firm. I turn my head, expression fierce. “Iain, release me.”

His hands loosen, but he does not step back. “We should do as Ben says and stay here. He’s wise.”

“Ben is an idiot. He has some prehistoric idea of sacrificing himself to protect me.” Time to find my way home. I breathe in deeply and my brow scrunches. Ben has travelled this way many times before, and recently. I’m so panicked it’s hard to get my bearings. “Iain, which way is–”

A pained cry shatters the night, a fearful screech my sensitive ears pick up and magnify.

Ben! I’m coming.

Like a comet, I shoot toward the sound, the ground flying beneath me. I run with my hands fisted, and part of me registers Iain’s presence behind and to the left. The miles are eaten by my long stride, and I pant, not from exertion, but from fear. What if I’m too late! What if Daniel has managed too…

I see the castle. Home. Strangled noises break from my throat. I stop dead. Golden flames lick the inky sky. Fire. Castle is consumed in flames, and black smoke hangs overcast; a foreboding cloud of death.

Fire is deadly. A single flame can spread and consume us….

Clutching my chest, small screams tripping off my lips, I sink to my knees. My body is numb.

Iain shouts something. There is a loud ringing in my ears.

“Lee!” Iain yells angrily and slaps me across the face. Wide eyed, I stare up at him. “Ye are the Child, connected to each of us in a fashion. Feel for Ben’s presence.” He drags me up by the arm when I close my eyes and try to block out everything. His hands cup my face, and he talks in my ear. “I know ye love him, but you cannot give into panic. Feel for him, lass, and tell me, is Lord Ben still with us.”

Trembling, and so afraid of what I might find, I race through the rooms is my mind. I come upon the door that is so clearly Ben’s, fling it open wide and am bathed in a warm glow that cannot mean death.

I let go of the pain and I can breathe again. “He’s alive,” I sob in relief.

Iain pats my cheeks and moves his friendly embrace down to rub my arms. “Aye, but he won’t be for long if Daniel has his way. Make yer choice. We stay here, I keep ye safe, and we grieve for yer lost love, or we make for Castle and finish this.”

I look back at my new home, an inferno, and push down my fear. “Swear to me when we get there you will help me save him.”

“Ah … dinnae ken….”

“Iain!” His jaw works and he says nothing. Every moment is crucial. “Iain, please,” I press urgently.

“I will do what I must to keep ye safe.”

***

My world is ending.

I fall, scramble up, stagger toward the men in the centre of the field. “No!” My wail freezes all in their tracks.

Daniel stands over Ben with a sword raised over his head, ready to deliver a killing blow. My love lies bloody on the grass, twitching, half dead.

My heart pumps like a piston. I stretch out a hand, pleading for mercy.

The others of my kind are at each other’s throats. Two dead bodies already litter the field and I’m barely conscious of their still corpses as I pass. Oh god, this must end now. I pass the broken body of a human consort half covered by her vampire lover … oh god, Sebastian and Nia.

I flick a glance at Afzal. He looks deranged, eyes smouldering and locked on Damien, who stands beside Daniel, his expression haughty and daring.

Iain inches towards Simone, then eases back, his protective instincts for her warring with his need to protect me. Adam and Simone retreat to our side.

“Nein, Adam,” Simone urges in a voice of quiet panic, touching his shoulder. “We must get her out of here.”

The oldest of our kind watches me intensely. I wonder what he thinks he sees. “There is nothing we can do. Better to die for love than any other foolishness.”

Anger flitters across Simone’s face before she turns from him and takes up her position in line again, her posture rigid with defiance.

“If you do this you die,” I say to Daniel on a shuddering breath, “If you spill another drop of blood I will kill you Daniel. If you touch my Ben I will destroy you.”

Expression contemptuous, Daniel nudges Ben’s head with the side of his shoe, and I see red. Screeching in rage, I go for him, but two shapes blur into movement and grab me by the arms. Afzal and Iain.

The heavens rumble and it starts to rain. The water begins to douse the flames tearing Castle apart.

“Take the Child out of here,” Daniel says with something soft in his voice. “She does not need to see this. She should not have come.”

“Let me go,” I struggle to break free from hands that hold strength beyond mine.

Adam and Simone move to protect me. “Always do you ask, Petite One.”

Simone nods almost imperceptibly and peers at me, her bold gaze demanding strength and bravery.

They release me and charge. Streaking across the space they fan out, each bearing down on an opponent. Adam twists William’s head back to front. Iain breaks Olivia’s back with a harsh cry. Afzal simply smashes Damien’s skull to pieces with his hulking fists. Was it Damien who killed Sebastian and Nia? Simone jumps Sarah, straddling the refined English rose, and mauling her throat with her lovely, but deadly fangs. Ghastly sounds rip from her throat as she drinks and shrieks like a demon.

Chaos. Everything is chaos, but in this moment, I scream, “Daniel! Stop!” The sword tip grazes Ben’s neck as it glances off to spear the ground. My heart gives. I am revived by the dark magics that give me immortal life and it beats too hard. “Step away from Ben. Lift the sword away from him carefully.” He resists but I hold firm and demand, “Now!”

“You mean to control me?” Daniel grunts. Agony casts shadows across his bewitching visage. “I will break you.”

The growling and snarling stops dead. It begins again, louder, and more ferocious than before.

Face strained, Daniel backs up, his hands white on the hilt of the sword. I move closer to Ben, struggling to deal with anything else happening around me. I break eye contact with Daniel and glance at Ben.

He’s not moving and my attention switches from Daniel to him.

My love what has this monster done to you!

‘Ben!’ I call desperately. ‘Open your eyes, and get up!”

At the break, Daniel’s roar of anger echoes through the night. He heaves the sword over his head, face twisted with wrath.

I dive and twist, thinking to catch the blade between my palms. Cold steel slides past my fingertips.

***

I’m shaking. My body is under great pressure and I have little control. I feel cold and hot all at the same time. I lift my head to see down the length of my body. The sword is upright, the hilt devoid a hand. Hadn’t these bloody people heard of guns? I’m sure my body was more resistant to bullets than swords.

Maybe that was the point, Lee. Daniel was here to destroy Ben, not hurt him.

Daniel’s expression is horrified before he is torn away by Adam and forced onto his stomach.

Simone sinks to her knees beside me, her pale palm flitting over my brow. Her lips move. I cannot hear her words. I’m … overcome. It’s not pain like I remember from my human life, but, something worse than that.

“Is– Is Ben–?”

The buzzing in my ears eases. “He is well,” Simone assures me. “Mein schatz feeds him. Hold on. We shall fix this. Sei ruhig, immer noch.”

I’m losing blood, and fast. How does one fix something like this?

“No! No, love!” I hear Ben’s voice, and feel his hands on me.

“We shall do this swiftly, Ben,” Simone says to calm him. “She will feel little now.”

He touches my cheek, thumbs away tears of pain, and cups my chin lovingly. “Do it.”

Adam The Giant, The Auld One, stands over me, legs set apart. The moonlight highlights his hair like a halo. He murmurs to himself, palms to the sky, preparing.

Who knows what dark gods he summons?

I shiver, feeling the power of his ancient words rasp over me and settle. He wraps a hand around the sword hilt.

I’m sweating, he’s panting, and my gaze twitches to Ben’s. They tell me not to watch, but I have to. Adam grits his teeth and heaves on the blade. It slides from my flesh like a knife from soft butter. It grazes my insides, slicing deeper into the cuts already carved into my guts. The steel pulling free is slick with dark blood, the edges razor sharp. The tip jerks into the open air releasing a fountain of blood and chaos into the night with my scream.

***

Daniel is on his knees before Simone, held there by Iain and Afzal, both grim faced.

All eyes ping between Daniel and I.

I keep forgetting the immortal but not invulnerable, part of my new life. I’m aware of it now, very aware of it as the hole in my stomach is slowly healing. Well, slowly from my perspective. Already, the tissues and muscles knit back together. I shudder and grit my teeth at the sensation from my middle. My throat burns. Thirsty. I need to feed if the healing is to go any further.

“This is not your fight,” Daniel grunts to the assembled group.

Simone slaps his face. Her palm connects squarely and the sound slingshots across the meadow. “Sei ruhig!”

“This is my right,” Daniel bites back louder and tips his chin regally. “You cannot deny me because she got in the way.”

“In the way,” Simone hisses. “She is the Child. She is to be protected and revered above all. Do we all not bear scars for you, Daniel, from when you bore this honour? Did I not bleed for you when you when you riled the Lycanthrope King to attack us? Did we not stand and slaughter hundreds of Lycan young to keep you safe?” Simone looks positively frightening as she steps forward, her hands curled into claws. “Did we ever begrudge you for getting in the way of what we considered a perfectly good plan to live out our lives in peace? Even now you anger them and revive an old feud that may see the end of us all. And what of Anya! When you killed my protégée and refused to tell me what happened, did I harm you even then?” She clutches a hand to her chest. “Mir ist schlecht! Oh, es tut mir weh. Ich habe keine kinder du bist mein sohn. Ich liebe dich, Daniel. How could you do this to us!”

Adam places a hand on her shoulder and draws her back. “Calm yourself, dearest.”

Simone drags in a deep shuddering breath. “Nein! He has pushed the realms of my patience too far. He must be judged.”

“And he will be,” Adam assures her. “The Child is wounded, but she will live, she is strong and can survive this.”

Simone turns to me and picks up the discarded sword from the grass, still wet with my blood. She holds it up to her face and bows to me. “Meine Königin, allow me to deliver punishment. Sein blut muss fließen.”

I look at Daniel. Then at the bodies dead in the grass … and oh, my heart! We had lost so much tonight, the thought of more death makes choke. “Bring him here,” I say, and clench my teeth when my spine fuses back together. I stifle a scream when pain flares through my body.

Iain and Afzal drag a limp Daniel closer. He does not fight them. In front of me, he reaches out as far as Afzal will let him go and stops his hand over my damaged stomach, a mess of red sinking inward. “I did not…” his eyes close. “You are precious now. I just wanted you to not fail us like my own protégé. I wanted you to be better than he was, to choose better next time around. I wanted to guide you but you would never allow that with him close to you.”

Ben stares at him, his Sire, with such a sad expression. Daniel does not look at him, he only watches me, his eyes pleading forgiveness. I see. This man is not evil, he is simply flawed, as we all are. He has forgotten his place and forgotten that there are some things in life more rewarding than being powerful. Even now, he seeks to make me understand he only sought to make me better than I am.

“You think I don’t understand, but I do,” I say sadly. “It’s you who are lost. It came close, Daniel. We all came so close to dying. You know this?” His expression is strained, but he nods jerkily. My eyes narrow to slits. “I cannot bear asking anyone to take your life after the brothers and sisters that have fallen today.” I lunge forward, instincts taking over, and bare my fangs. “But I need blood, and yours is forfeit.”

I clamp down on his neck and Ben joins me, bringing Daniel’s wrist to his mouth. Simone bites him too, and so does Adam. Iain and Afzal kneel down to feed, and we suck the blood and life from Daniel until there is barely anything left. Only when his heart stutters do I pull back and urge the others to do so as well.

I place a hand to my stomach to see if it has healed. I check Ben and the others’ minor wounds and see they too are well.

Can I bring myself to forgive Daniel? Yes, of course! But I know it’s not possible for the others, and for my dear Ben. It’s ingrained in them to protect the Child until their last breath, and Daniel has broken that sacred covenant.

“Take him to the edge of the woods and leave him there,” I order. He is to be our peace offering. If the Lycans take him, so be it. If not we shall have to think of something else to convey our sadness at what has happened here tonight.”

“We shall be lucky if they do not attack us the next full moon when they are strong and prepared,” Simone replies. Her lovely face is half drenched in blood. Her catlike eyes glow. “Die wölfe sind stolz.”

I look away from them all, unable to focus on death and destruction any longer. “Then a war we shall have.”

Chapter 15 Monster Of Mine Forever Sounds Perfect

I watch Simone walk down the beach, the wind tugging at the long mass of her blonde hair and her skirts. She is so poised and beautiful. The moon fades her hair to silver, and her gliding gait makes her ghostlike as she walks the coast.

I breathe out and my shoulders slump. I slept all day and half the night. When I woke the bodies were gone and Adam waited for me. Simone had taken Daniel to the boundary line and left him there as I requested. He was gone when they rose from slumber.

The Lycanthropes claimed him.

I could still feel him, but I decided to keep that to myself. Adam did not push me to reveal this though I know he saw it on my face when he wondered aloud how long Daniel would live.

“Why did you speak for me?” I ask.

Adam smiles and pats my head like I’m his favourite pet. “It is prudent for the old and the young to stick together is it not? I represent the past. A monolith of power that is unending and never changing. Reminding our race of what once was. You are a bundle of raw energy and passion pushing our race to evolve, even though we find it difficult to change. We had become so unconcerned with the troubles of mortals. You remind us that our actions affect more than ourselves. Besides, you love Ben. He was a good Child, and I find myself moved by the emotion between you.” He looks toward the direction of the beach, obviously anxious to fix the bad feeling between him and Simone. “One day, I will tell you how she and I came to love each other. The claiming of my bride is a story that puts yours and Ben’s tale to shame.”

I wring my hands, thinking of how fierce she was the last time I saw her. She hacked Daniel’s legs to pieces and not once did her face show any form of pain or inclination that what she did was anything other than deserved. I suppose, in her eyes, it was much less than his judgment called for. She had a kind heart, and had watched many of her kind die … had to end them with her own bare hands. No wonder she was pissed.

“Will she be angry with you for long?” I ask worriedly.

He laughs, “The last time we argued it took a decade for her to forgive me.” I gape at him in horror. Ten years of anger? Over what, I wonder. My goodness, what could possibly have happened for her to distance herself from him for so long? I … oh, right. Thanks memory. “I see you remember now.” Adam smiles at me. “Do not fret, Petite One. Winning her back is part of the thrill for me, and at least this time she did not try to kill me, hmm?” He pulls me in for a hug, squeezing with bone-crushing enthusiasm, and I’m bewildered, reliving the moments that are clearly from Simone’s memory of trying to chop Adam’s head off. “Make sure Ben is not too hard on himself? If you do not pull him out of his melancholy soon he will be lost in it for some time. We have a habit of holding grudges, even against ourselves. Till we meet again.” With a quick kiss to my brow, he is gone.

Oh! I got my cuddle!

I look back to Castle, home, hearing music. I cock my head and listen harder. Hmm. Ben? I slowly walk back into the building, enjoying the soothing soft notes. Petals? Blood red roses are scattered across the floor, a trail leading up the stairs. Ben what are you up to? I follow this trail of flowers until I reach a bedroom that escaped the fire. The petals lead up to the bed, then through an open doorway with more stairs leading up. The secondary tower, perhaps. The music comes from up there too.

On the bed is draped a risqué dress, beautiful really. A gift? I strip down and put it on, luxuriating at the feel of the heavy silk on my skin. It crosses over at the front to secure my breasts and hooks around my back in a halter. Low on my hips ride the full skirts. It’s plain, cut wonderfully, and I feel sensual, womanly.

Ben is close. I smell him, and as I walk the halls of our home, his spicy scent gains strength. Is he still sulking? Upset? He blames himself for my injuries, which is bad enough, but his melancholy is infectious.

I climb the stone steps and the wind catches my hair. The dark locks lush with immortal life fan out, tugged in the blustering nor’easter. Huh? Nor’easter? This puzzling word makes me pause for a beat because I’ve never used it before, and soon it’s meaning is clear in my mind. The wind. I sigh. Words and phrases keep coming to me like that. Fragments of knowledge that is now mine, passed on to me from my predecessors. I shake off my shock of knowing all that has passed in this world, and focus on the now.

Ben stands with one foot on the stone ledge, watching the waves crash on the rocks and the albatrosses diving into choppy waters. The rare birds are far from home. Ben too is windswept, gazing out into the overcast horizon. Had we been human, the sheer force of the wind would send us toppling over; but in this form, it’s a light breeze caressing our skin. The silk of my dress slithers across my hand as it flutters. With a sigh, my head tilts to the side.

Lee, this man hurt you.

Hmm. Yes, that is so true. To see him broken and shredded beneath Daniel had made my whole world collapse. But … I love him. And that is all.

He turns to me slowly. His eyes are filled with regret, his mind disquiet.

Ben! Why do you always do that? Turn inward on yourself? You have me now, so reach to me, hmm?

With a small shake of his head, he holds out his hand. I drift forward and he meets me halfway. My hand comes to rest on his shoulder, the other held loosely in his grip. He quirks his sleek eyebrow at me, and smiles impishly.

Are we to dance now, darling?

He chuckles and quips, ‘Keep up.’

A lull, the drum beat thunders in my ears and blends with the sound of the wind and ocean. With a gentle sway to set the tone, we fly over the grey stone, our feet spry as the music drifts into the night.

I’m alive in his arms. I feared that Ben might turn from me to wallow in misery for what almost happened, and look at us! I’m alive, he is alive, and we are joined. Blood rushes through my veins, my heart; it beats for him. I spin for time unknown and the world blurs. He’s there to gather me close when I face him again. My back arches, bending so my fingertips scrape the floor. His arm supports me then sweeps me up again for another turn about the rooftop. This moment, I swear, we shall relive every full moon, my heart. Possessive, yet accommodating, he stays behind me as he leads the dance. Out kicks my leg, and my skirts fly as it lifts, extends, and cuts an elegant curve into the air. Arms held high above my head in a graceful oval, I go up onto my toes, and am poised to let go. Ben cups my waist and lifts me up high over his head. Oh! My head falls back and my body relaxes. My arms fall to my sides, and I’m weightless. I twirl on top of the world.

The lunar light bathes my skin, cool and comforting. My skin tingles. I burn, for him.

Ben’s mind brushes mine. ‘My love, you saved me.’

My lashes sweep the tops of my cheekbones as I blink slowly, soaking up his admiration. I think, ‘Darling, I am strong, because of you. I’m yours. Always. We will fight, but always, I’m yours.’

Ben’s arms yield, letting me swirl within a vortex of gleaming silk, but before I fall further than his waist, his hands find purchase, and scoop me to his chest. He strides with me held close to him, my arms looped around his neck. With a gentle push, I’m back on my feet, and flying.

My steps are sure, flawless. They come to me from ages past, memories of those who have walked and lived before me.

We duel each other, bodies perfectly synchronized, bending, coiling, and moving in violent abandon. Ben’s movement is bold, intense. His body is strong, frame delineated by the starlight. His striking golden eyes smoulder, the pupils flux, and snap to slits. My own start to burn, and I feel them change.

Oh my goodness that can never be…!

I see myself in Ben’s mind’s eye. In his consciousness, there is only darkness, and me. As I move, I shine like a silver sun and leave sparkling dust in my wake. In his eyes, I’m delicate and waiflike, an ethereal spectre, and the beauty of his world. To him I’m everything, and tears of blood roll down my face, because his thoughts of me are so beautiful. Oh look, see how you make me a liar again, Ben! I swore once you changed me I would never cry if you were safe and now look at me.

The music flows through us and we transcend.

His thumb strokes my jaw. I collapse in on myself, leaning into this feather light touch as I reach out for him. He steps forward and I dance back in a chaotic blur until I’m stone still, my back against the sea, my chin lifted high.

Tisk, darling, am I not a tease? I dare you to approach me. I challenge you to close the distance and see what wicked things I will impose upon you. He does, and I pace back again. A loose stone falls from under my foot and he clasps my forearm to pull me into him. Swivelling away, he releases me from his arms with flourish.

I face the sea, my arms flung wide in supplication. I think I may fall off the edge of the world in this perfect moment, with saltwater spray on my checks, and the wind in my hair. The moon is fat and bright, reflected on tumultuous ocean waves that plunge toward me like charging horses. If I jump, will I fly away into the seductive night? Glide upon wings gifted to me by darkness that is now my maiden, my herald? If I dive under, will the sea claim me and transform me into a naiad? Will I grow a tail and golden scales, sit upon the rocks and lure Ben to me with a siren call? Or will I drag him under to dance in the deepest depths of a watery sepulchre?

Listen to me, how I speak! My thoughts are profound. I speak of things, creatures, and power that I have memories of, but I have never seen with my own eyes.

Ben clasps my waist and turns me to him. “I will never let you go,” he murmurs.

The beat of the music pauses, we take up stance again. My chest heaves from emotion and he dips me, lips achingly close to my throat. His cheek rubs mine, rests there, and his chest presses on my breasts. His heart thumps. His fingertips dig into the base of my spine, arching me further into him. My hand slides up his strong arm to rest across his bare shoulder, my fingers splayed at the nape of his neck, and teasing his sable curls. His legs are braced apart to carry my weight.

I’m submissive and I don’t like it. A demon rides my soul hard, and it will be respected, even by my love.

I drag a foot up his calf, my plan of control forming. Bending my knee, I hook my leg around his waist to tug him close. He jerks, blinks in shock, and the hand gripping my upper back flexes.

“I’m your equal now,” I remind with deadly quiet, my face severe with passion. I draw myself up and disengage his arms with ease. I slap a palm to his chest, defying him. I demand he match my steps as I attack the dance with renewed vigour, forcing him to surrender ground to me. “Mind, body, and soul. And I warn you lover, during this eternity we share, never underestimate me again.” I exploit the rhythm. My heels lead, my frame is wide. Paso Doble. My rigid form and chest lifted high give the impression of a fierce bullfighter, and I am, in my own way, going in for the kill. My limbs are fluid yet angular, my hips locked into position. “Never presume to snuff out your life for the sake of preserving mine.” Abruptly, I stamp my foot pushing him back, and the rock cracks. The tower trembles, and Ben! He stumbles to one knee. I grab his arm to steady him and snap his head to the side in triumph.

Mine.

I whisper in his ear, “I will never let you go.”

A current of air whirling around us buoys the sensual music. Ben remains on bended knee, staring up at me, his chest heaving. I brush my fingertips across his face. Mmm. Stubble. I smile. ‘Come here. Dance with me,’ I think in a happier tone, and turn from him to jump up onto the rooftop edge.

He joins me, laughing. Instinct takes over and our agility is matchless. The music crescendos, and I’m leaping, my arms reaching for the stars twinkling overhead. We are free. Indomitable. I bound over the stone shelf with Ben behind me, and the deep below us. We do not falter; our languorous feline ability gifts us the dexterity we need to perform a dance this world has never seen. We spar each other, push to go faster, wilder, as we taunt danger.

Ben throws his arms out. Hands fisted, he roars at the sea, a warrior who has won his battle. I throw my head back and scream at the moon, a banshee princess who has found her darkling prince. My dress billows in the gales of wind buffeting me from the raging aquatic. Lightning cracks the sky, and with a vast leap, I soar and land in Ben’s waiting arms. My legs wrap around his waist as I bury my head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. My fangs clamp down marking him as mine. He fists a hand in my hair; and murmurs that I’m his true love. My wrist is captured, his teeth enter me, and the chain is complete.

Sated, I lick my lips, wet with his blood, and place a tender kiss on his sweet mouth.

To lose this? Never. I will fight any adversary for my Ben. So much of what I was, who I was, has changed, but my love for him will never diminish or be replaced. Breathless, we clutch each other tightly. Yes, I would destroy everything for him.

Nobody stand in my way, I will end you!

‘Such fierce thoughts,’ Ben thinks affectionately, and sets me down. He takes my hand and we turn to face inland.

Standing in the field of grass, bleached silver by the moon, stand the others. Only four remain. These solid and silent sentries will protect me forever. We are the cold ones, the blood drinkers. Our souls are chained to the darker forces of this universe.

Who and what are we? We are the last of our kind.

Vampire.

See how we stand united by love? We will find a new way, together.

Simone raises her hand, face solemn. Her mate, Adam, does the same except a small smile rides his lips. Iain and Afzal follow them, pale palms raised to me in a show of respect. All hold their heads high and their eyes are bright with hope.

All this I see with my new eyes, the immortal sight Ben gave me. These people will follow me until the end of time.

Oh, my darling. My Ben. They follow me. And I? I will follow you to the end of everything.

Evermore.

Miles to the east….

Harmony

Hannah will freak out if I muddy my dress or if I’m late for her big day. Sigh. I dig my boot tip into the undergrowth.

Stupid wedding.

As if being youngest daughter of the Pack Alpha isn’t bad enough, I have to endure boring, pointless crap like wedding ceremonies. Not only endure, but also be part of. Even worse, being the younger sister of the Alpha female means I have to assume her hunting duties whilst she breeds. God damn it. Like I didn’t have my own shit to do.

Everybody treats me like a child, like porcelain, or glass. Lord knows my nether regions may never see the love of a strong man if I stay with the Pack.

“I’ll die a virgin,” I say on a sigh. “A frustrated virgin.”

Grumbling to myself, my fingers twitch on the spaghetti straps at my shoulders. I hate dresses. Then again, I hate clothes in general. As for this dress, it’s so demure. The other bridesmaids get to wear sexy, slinky numbers. Tight dresses that bare acres of skin in pearly colors to compliment their tans. What do I get? A brilliant white dress down to my ankles, miles of toile skirt, a high bodice, and spaghetti straps in case, god forbid, I show a little cleavage to draw some interest. Daddy almost wanted me to wear a cape to cover my back and shoulders and kid gloves. I mean, what the fuck? Well, I towed the damn line. I shifted, tore that disgusting cape to shreds and buried it in the backyard. When that didn’t work, a major bitch fit, and a promise to not pout as I walked down the aisle convinced Daddy it was over the top to cover his twenty year old daughter like a Victorian debutant in this day and age.

The moon peeks out from behind the clouds. Bright and big it’s always the most beautiful thing to me.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. God, I want to strip naked and howl. I want to prowl the night on four legs. Roll around in the mud. I want to hunt, to fuck, and god, I’m sick to death of curbing the latter.

As a wolf, I get respect. I’m fast, agile, strong. Respect cannot be denied to so powerful a being. My she-wolf is something to make a grown man piss himself in fear. But because I submitted to my sister during a challenge for female Alpha last year, afraid of hurting her, some people are dumb enough to assume that means my human self is weak, vulnerable.

Asses.

Some jumped up airhead’s forget I look sweet and innocent, but that the sugar coating is an effective mask for power lurking beneath. The look of surprise on people’s faces the split second before I smash them into a wall after they’ve crossed the line one too many times is always priceless, immensely satisfying.

Honestly, I don’t want to hurt anybody. Most times, I don’t even bother fighting it when the others assert dominance over me … as long as they don’t take it too far, like biting my neck and shit. I’m no push over. On occasion, my wolf gets disgruntled, but I know I’m badass, and that’s enough to sustain me. It’s just crap my wolf status has translated itself to an overprotective Pack in daily human life.

“Five minutes. I won’t be late if I only run for five minutes,” I say aloud to the night

It’s bullshit. Once I shift there’s no way my wolf will obey, but what the hell. I slip the dress straps off, and struggle to get the zipper at the back down.

A pained groan floats past me on the wind.

I still, instinctively crouch. My teeth lengthen, and I growl a warning.

Blood.

I inhale deeply, taste the night on my tongue, and something else. Something sickly sweet and ashy. My body tenses, my hackles rise. That scent should not be here. My eyes burn, a telltale sign of the eerie glow that shines from my pupils.

Vampire.

I should turn back. That’s what one such as me is supposed to do. I’m supposed to run to the first male wolf I can find, and tell him of what I’d found. I sneer at the idea. I’m perfectly capable of taking on a snaggle-toothed undead freak by myself.

Considering we’re at the cusp of open war with them, I’m not meant to be prowling the lands alone anyway, especially after what happened to my cousin.

The thought of running to a male wolf is galling, how would I explain why I’m out here instead of prettying myself for the ceremony?

God damn it.

I can handle this, right?

The vampire female I met yesterday, Lee, didn’t seem all that bad. Maybe the one I smell is like her.

Lee convinced me to not attack when we’d come across her and three others by being honest, and appealing to my better nature. Nobody wants another war. Or did she twist my mind somehow? No, I don’t believe that, my mind was clear when we spoke.

Sy and boys had given me hell when we’d gotten back to Pack territory safely. Daddy was already unhappy with me, and I didn’t need another strike against my name. It had taken a lot of threats to keep them silent. After all, we’d had the leader of their kind in our grasp, and we’d let her go. Some of the boys were still struggling with the fact my choice may come back to bite us. Literally. Whatever. I could see it in Lee’s freaky cat eyes she didn’t want to hurt us. She’ll make it right with Daddy, and avert war, I know it.

Keeping low, I prowl forward, holding my wolf at bay. I really can’t afford for anything to happen to this outfit.

The plan? I’ll take a peek, figure out why a vampire is bleeding in Pack woods then report back to the first Enforcer I can find.

Bunching yards of skirt in my hands, I draw up the hem so it won’t drag in the mud.

My nose guides me, always has done. The olfactory system of a wolf is spectacular, and the sense of smell on a werewolf? Infuckingfallible. I can track a mouse through a storm three days past. Every scent riding a microscopic speck of dust is picked up. Most times, opening my senses to that degree is overwhelming, and more often than not, the smells I pick up are not pleasant. My eyes flick from left to right, scouring the undergrowth, and I use my gift to lead me to the vampire.

The male.

This makes me pause for a beat before I carry on.

He smells like seawater.

I barely make a sound as I pace forward. I have trouble hearing myself, and my hearing is almost as good as my nose.

He’s breathing.

Some surprise there, I’ll admit. Fangs die and come back. No oxygen is needed for them to survive, and apparently, they can’t drown. Freaks. I know they inhale and exhale air to be able to talk, though it does nothing for them physically. How do the Suckers have sex? Anyway, what animates them is magic, pure, dark, putrid magic.

My brows plunge.

Now I’m thinking on it, Lee breathed. She even flushed, and I’m sure when I stood close to her I heard a faint heartbeat.

There.

In front of me, he lies face down in the dirt.

I stop, let my dress fall, and cock my head to the side. He’s dug himself from a hole in the ground. How odd. Vampires had disposed of that kind of behaviour centuries ago.

He lifts his head, torso stretching and curving as he props himself up on his elbows. He glares at me, dark eyes furious, and for some reason, anguished. His legs are mangled, pretty fucked up actually. He’ll need blood to heal fully. How unfortunate for him there’s none on offer. He huffs and lets his body fall back down. This time he turns his head to the side so he can watch me.

I’m surprised. No attempt to bite me. No hissing or demands for me to help him. Have I found a tame and humble vampire? I think not. This one is broken emotionally.

“Are you going to just give up?” I ask, and drop my butt as I roll onto the balls of my feet. Keeping my hands busy with bunches of skirt, I still manage to retain perfect balance as I lower myself to the ground.

“Go away,” he rasps. “Leave me to die in peace.”

I blink. My curiosity hits an all time high. “You Fangs are usually all about survival, The Great Bloodline, and all that. Why do you want to die?”

He sighs as if I am bothersome, and lifts his head to stare at me. “I would ask that you refrain from torturing me. If you are to kill me let it be swift.”

My bottom lip pops out. “Who said anything about killing you?” I stand and walk over to him, no longer afraid. If he had the strength to fight me, he would’ve made a move by now. “You’re on Pack land, and that means you must answer to my Alpha.”

“I am trying to die in peace,” he snaps. “If you take me to your Alpha he will have no choice but to kill me or return me to my own kind.”

“And you don’t want that,” I say slowly. My eyes track his injuries. “You weren’t mauled by a wolf, and no human could do this to you.” I inhale deeper to get a better scent on him. “You’re old, so you’re strong. Yet here you lie near death.” I smile. “I like puzzles and you are undeniably puzzling me.”

“This is not a game you want to play,” he says through clenched teeth. “And I’m immortal, but not indestructible.”

“You sound like you’re pain.”

“Of course,” he barks.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t you snap at me.”

“Why are you still here?”

“Told you that bit already, you need to see my Alpha. Daddy will want to know about you.”

“Would you just kill me instead? Remove my head, that will do it.”

“Do you have any idea how much trouble I’d be in if your body was found? Pack Enforcers run this territory everyday, and not to be mean, or anything, but you smell … different. They’d be able to scent you a mile off, and then what would I do?” I flap my arms around us. “My scent is all over this place now.”

He closes his eyes and counts silently to ten for patience. A wicked smile flashes across my face, but is gone before he opens his dark eyes and fixes them on me. “The Alpha is your father. Biological?”

“Umhm. He’s my Daddy. He’s a good one too. Kind, open-minded, got a mean bite though.” I rub my side where the scar from my last punishment is. That was because of these annoying vampires too.

“Would he do me a kindness and end my suffering if you asked it of him?”

My eyes widen. “Oh. Oh I’m not his favorite.” I grin and wink at him. “I’m the troublemaker, the black sheep of the family. In fact, I’ve no doubt somehow you crawling onto our territory is going to me made out to be all my fault.” This diverts my train of thought. “Why are you on our territory if you don’t mind me asking?” He does not speak, and I hesitate before asking. “Were you in the fight yesterday night with that rogue your kind has? Is that really happening? I was told one of you has risen against the others, or is that story bullshit I’ve been fed?” I search my memory for the name Lee gave. “Daniel. The rogue’s name is Daniel.” Still, he says nothing, but my mouth is on a roll, and I take his silence as an invitation to keep talking. “It’s clear your own kind did this to you. So you must have had something to do the crazy new Queen and her suicidal mate. Do you know them? I do. Her name’s Lee. She’s beautiful, and nice. Out of her fucking mind, but nice. You must know her. She’s a tiny thing, green eyes, dark hair. Did you fight for her? Is that why you’re hiding here? Did she lose? To be honest I hope not, she owes me big time, and she has all the Packs in a state of uproar after the death of my baby cousin.” I tuck my hair behind my ears then lower my voice. “Shall I tell you a secret? The Alphas are terrified she’s going to come after them, but I keep saying to Daddy that won’t happen. Lee’s in charge now, a real woman, and women have more sense than men.”

He slams a fist to the ground. It squelches into the mud, but I catch the gist of the effect he was after. “Woman, do you ever stop talking!”

My mouth swings open before snapping shut. I tip my chin back perilously high. “Bite me.”

“Very well,” he seethes. “If you wouldn’t mind coming closer to offer your neck.”

I giggle before slapping a hand over my mouth. Disgusting as the imagery was, I’d walked right into that one. His eyes sparkle briefly before they fill with quiet desperation again.

He intrigues me, this vampire. If I leave him here, he’ll die. No humans come into these woods, and vampires need to feed nightly. He’s already lost a lot of blood, and even his regenerative sleep hasn’t helped. Now that I’ve spoken to him, it seems cruel to leave him here in the damp to slowly bleed out.

I tap a finger to my lips, my decision final. “I’m taking you home with me.”

He sighs, yet again. I sigh back dramatically and bend over, lifting him up into my arms like I would a child.

He makes a noise of alarm. “Put me down.”

I almost drop him he hissed the command so forcefully. “Um, why?”

“I’ll crawl.”

I blink, nearly losing my hold on him again. “Crawl,” I repeat slowly. “You can barely lift your head, and you think you will crawl all the way back to my house?”

He grits his teeth, shifts in my now loose embrace. “Yes.”

My eyelid twitches. “Is it such a big deal for one of my kind to help you?” Silence. “I’m waiting.”

His jaw works and with what seems like an effort in patience he says, “It is not that you are Lycan. You are a woman.”

At first, I’m speechless. Then dumbfounded. I drop him on his ass and stride away. I turn on my heel and stomp back to him to give my own glare. “If I was a male you wouldn’t care?” Groaning, rocking on the spot, he nods. “Fine. Crawl then.” I point to the north-east. “That way.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I wait for him to start moving.

Setting his jaw, he shudders as he drags himself a metre in the direction I’d pointed.

I snort. “I have a wedding to get back to. This will take all night and Daddy will get pissy.”

“You don’t … think bringing a stray … enemy … home will upset your … father.” He pants the sentence out and pauses, arms wobbling.

This really cannot continue. If he won’t let me carry him and he can’t drag himself there…. “Can you drink from me?” I jump in shock the same time he does, and look over my shoulder as if looking to spy who just said that.

He twists around to seat himself on his butt and eyes me incredulously. “Apologies, could you repeat what you just said?” I flush and roll my eyes as if it isn’t a big deal. He cocks his head to the side, noting the change in my heart rate. God damned vampires. His nostrils flare. “You like the idea of me biting you?” At first he sounded sceptical, but his voice lowers an octave, and he growls in a silky voice laced with humour. “You want me to bite you.”

What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. Me.

“No. Forget it,” I say bluntly, and move past him, embarrassed as hell.

His hand shoots out to grip my ankle.

I stop, boot heel lifted off the ground. His hand is freezing, but instead of revulsion a thrill travels up from where his fingers press into my skin. I exhale in a rush, and focus on not collapsing into a heap.

This is wrong, unnatural, just wrong, wrong, wrong for me to feel this way about my enemy.

I try to gather my wits. He’s just touching my ankle. No big deal, no big deal, no big deal.

I’m over it.

Oh!

The hand moves up, leisurely fluttering over my calf to circle the back of my knee. His hand continues to travel up under the skirt until it reaches the swell of my buttock, encased in white lace that matches my dress. His fingers trace the patterned edge then slide down following the curve until his whole hand slips in-between my legs, finding the damp heat there.

Shit.

“The she-wolf is wet for the vampire,” he murmurs.

In delayed reaction, I gasp, and stagger away. Yes, I stagger from him and his blasted hand. I clutch at fistfuls of skirts, blushing furiously.

He chuckles, eyes fixed on my heaving chest.

Pervert.

Pulling back my foot, I slam it into his side. He doubles over, coughing up blood, and groaning.

“Don’t you ever touch me like that ever again.” I growl darkly to emphasize my warning then grab one of his limp arms, dragging his heavy ass behind me. I ignore the urge to investigate the solid muscle of his bicep. “Yeah, laugh it up. You just wait and see what happens when I get you home.”

He laughs harder. “Now you tease me.”

***

NOTE FROM PENELOPE

Thank you for reading this novel. Please leave me a review or feedback somewhere online. The sequel Bite, My Love will be released 2012. To find out more, see the cover, and read the blurb, visit my website.

***

PenelopeFletcher.com

Twitter.com/Miss_Fletcher

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***

OTHER BOOKS

Demon Girl (Rae Wilder)

Demon Day (Rae Wilder)

Demon Dark (Rae Wilder)

Smolder (Dragon Souls)

Lunar Light (Beautiful Damned)

From the same author on Feedbooks

- Glamour (Rae Wilder #1) (2010)

Rae Wilder has problems. Supernatural creatures swarm the earth, and humanity is on the brink of extinction. Stalked by a handsome fairy who claims she is like him, demonkind, Rae thinks maybe it was a mistake breaking the rules by going over the Wall into demon territory. Plunged into a world of dark magics, fierce creatures, and ritual sacrifice, she is charged with a guarding a magical amulet. The changes to her mind and body are startling, but rather than accept her purpose she struggles against who she is destined to be. Throw in a big lust for a vampire who can't keep his hands off her, and life starts to get complicated. Rae is forced to make the ultimate choice: to live and die human, or embrace her birth-right and wield magics that could turn her into something wicked, a force of nature nothing can control. BrE.

- Lunar Light (2011)

Monsters should not walk the daylight, they should cower in the dark.... When the full moon haunts the sky, Evangeline prowls the dark as a Wendigo; a fearsome mix of human and beast. The night an injured outcast falls into her claws she must defy her keeper, the laws of nature and her own morality to protect him from the hunter who wants his head as a trophy. Struggling to reconcile her cannibalistic urges and gentle temperament, Evangeline must move beyond the ancient curse of her ancestors blood, and become legend. A Beautiful Damned Novella.

- Smolder (Dragon Souls) (2011)

Wounded, a dragon drops from the sky to crash in front of Marina in an explosion of fire. She does the only reasonable thing a girl can do ... she saves his life. Marina knows any moment may be her last, yet she cannot deny the connection between her and the alluring creature. When two more dragons appear and lead a dangerous assassin to their hiding place, the truth about her dragon is unveiled. The consequences of falling for a creature gifts Marina wonders never before seen ... in this world.

www.feedbooks.com

Food for the mind

Table of Contents

- Title

- Chapter 1 - He Is Unfamiliar

- Chapter 2 - You Do Realize You Are His Prey?

- Chapter 3 - Reality Bites, Huh?
- Chapter 4 - Lee Likes To Watch
- Chapter 5 - Some Think Murder Is Recreation

- Chapter 6 - The Introduction To Ben’s People

- Chapter 7 - Smoke Reveals Fire
- Chapter 8 - Ben Takes Lee Home
- Chapter 9 - The Tender Birth Of A Neophyte
- Chapter 10 - Wake, Child
- Chapter 11 - Lycanthropes And Lessons
- Chapter 12 - Lee Handles The Truth
- Chapter 13 - Bye, Bye Bethany
- Chapter 14 - To Battle The Undying

- Chapter 15 - Monster Of Mine Forever Sounds Perfect

- From the same author on Feedbooks