Bound Through Blood (5 page)

The alarm went off sending Salena bolting upright in bed. Feeling groggy from a restless sleep, she started to remember the lustful dream she'd had. Even this morning, it had her feeling aroused. She had dreamed about her mystery man from the phone booth. She remembered his long, drugging kisses with perfect clarity. She also remembered the feel of his warm, strong hands as they roamed all over her body, stoking flames of desire within her. She could still feel the ache between her creamy white thighs from his teasing touches there. But that is when the dream had ended. Just like in the phone booth, he'd worked her body up into frenzy and then abruptly left her. Was this guy the Kissing Bandit or what? It would figure that even her dreams would leave her feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

A dull sting in her neck brought her back to the present, though, and with eyes wide open, she ran to the bathroom mirror. There it was—a telltale mark that said last night wasn't a dream. It couldn't have been—there was a bite mark very similar to the one that had been on her wrist, which had now completely faded away. She wondered if she was losing her mind and seeing things, or if somehow he'd found her and gotten into her home. Yet, there it was on her neck now, and as she fingered the slightly painful two puncture wounds, she knew she was definitely not imagining it. She felt a flood of panic wash over her body, but it quickly gave way to another feeling—curiosity perhaps? Why did this man come to her twice now and then leave her all of a sudden with both her life and virtue intact? She wondered, perhaps, if the latter bothered her more than it should. He had spent the time working her body into a molten pool of desire, twice now, but didn't follow through. Even now, when she should be calling the police and then running for her life, she was undeniably lascivious. She was lusting for this stranger, this man, this killer of women—except her.
What in God's name is wrong with me
?
Am I crazy or just a masochist?

She fingered the bite mark again. What was the biting all about? Then her thoughts returned to her conversation with Heloise and to her great-great-great-great-great-whatever- grandmother, who had also been bitten by a mysterious man. She'd have to speak to Heloise again, very soon, before he returned to her. Would he return to her? She felt certain of it. This brought back the other concern—how'd he get into her house? Everything had been locked up tight, so was there no way to keep him out? And why didn't she try to fight him off either time? She answered her own question in one word,
vampire
.

What could she tell the police? That possibly a killer got into her locked up home, seduced her, and bit her before running away? Oh, and by the way, she thinks he's a vampire. That would go over really well, and she'd be the one locked up, in the nuthouse. Yes, she had to see Heloise after her trip to the market today.

After checking all of her locks, which were of course secure, she took a steamy shower and got ready for errands. While putting on her makeup, she grabbed her concealer to cover the bite mark, but, surprisingly, it wasn't as visible now. Was it fading? She glanced again at her flawless wrist where the other had been as of yesterday, and she recalled the comments made in Heloise's grandmother's diary. She decided seeing the Gypsy couldn't wait, so she put off shopping until afterward.

It was a dreary day, and when she stepped out the front door, she didn't even notice the black cat walk past her and around to the back of her house.

On the way to Heloise's, Salena called her and learned she would not be home for a visit today, so it would have to wait. Heloise told her not to worry; they would do another reading soon.

Feeling the need for the company of friends, though, Salena called up some girlfriends and invited them to dinner that evening. Then, needing to stock her refrigerator, she headed in the direction of the farmer's market.

Once inside the cover of her living room, where the curtains were closed, Devin shape-shifted back. He had to learn as much as he could about this woman before he visited her again, and would definitely be visiting her again, no matter who or what she is.

He looked around her pristine home, admiring her choice of knick knacks and decor, before going to the drawer where he'd seen her put the family tree back. He took it to her kitchen table and flattened it out. He found her name at the bottom, Salena Saunders.
Saunders...
Alarmed, he hastily ran his finger up Salena's bloodline. There it was—Abigail Saunders. "They are blood relatives," he whispered to the empty room. He stared at the parchment in absolute astonishment; his truelove's blood flows through Salena's body, and he can taste it. He can also, for the first time in almost three hundred years, see his destiny again. She didn't know it yet, but Salena is his soul mate, his savior. It would be because it was meant to be. Abigail had found a way back to him.

He walked through Salena's small and quaint house, taking in the scent of her with hungry nostrils. He smelled not only her perfume but also her essence—the pheromones that made her a woman, a desirable woman—and he couldn't get enough. The scent made his fangs ache and his pulsing manhood as well. He longed to hold her close, breathing in her fragrance to the fullest, before sinking his teeth in to taste her again. Those thoughts made him hungry beyond comprehension, and he needed to feed. But first, he needed to find her again. He needed to lay his eyes on his destiny, which has been brought before him once more.

He headed in the same direction he'd seen her go earlier. Shape-shifted into a black hawk, it shouldn't take him long to find her, he thought, and he was right.

Salena was strolling through the farmer's market, picking out some fresh veggies for a garden salad when she felt something against her leg. Looking down, she discovered a black cat rubbing up against her. "Go, scoot," she gave the animal a light pat on its hindquarters. She likes cats, but her allergies keep her from having one. The stray cat moved away, but, before she knew it, it was back and rubbing again, purring so loudly that she could feel the vibrations on her leg.
I will have to brush the pants before I wash them
. Shrugging her shoulders, she returned to shopping.

A rumble of thunder caught her attention, and, looking up to the sky, she saw thunderstorm clouds moving in rapidly. She paid the vendor and moved quickly on down the line, only pausing when a rain breeze carrying a musky scent—a familiar musky scent— blew past her. Looking around herself, she didn't see him—or at least whom she thought he was—lurking nearby. Brushing it off, she and the attached cat stopped at a flower vendor. She was looking at a bouquet of painted daisies when the first raindrops fell. Just as she was digging for her wallet, the downpour began, and she ran away, abandoning both the flowers and the cat.

Safely inside a dry clothing shop, she watched the other market patrons making their mad dashes for cover as well, while the vendors were desperately trying to protect their wares. Since it appeared she would be in the store for a while, she decided to look at the clothes while there. She shifted the wet bag of vegetables in her arms, so they wouldn't rip through the damp paper. A kind sales clerk offered, though, to keep the bag behind the counter, so Salena could look at the clothing racks, and she gratefully accepted. She looked through the racks of new merchandise, filled with bright spring and summer colors, and picked out a couple of new blouses and skirts for work. The phrase her mother had used, "retail therapy," came to mind and made her smile. She wondered, with a heavy heart, what her parents would think about the events in her life right now. They were always strict about who they'd let her date when she was growing up, so she was pretty certain they would disapprove of a vampire in her life now; even if her grandmother had one first.

After paying for her clothes, she waited out the rain with several others.

Devin was still tingling from the close contact of rubbing up against her, even if he'd been a cat at the time. He was back in human form now and on the way to her house with the flowers she'd been admiring. He'd grabbed them when the vendor had closed everything up and ran for cover from the rain. Along the way, he noticed a young woman, probably in her late teens, standing alone on the sidewalk in front of a dilapidated store. Her white lacy top was drenched and transparent enough to show she wasn't wearing a bra. Rosy buds peeked through at him, and shifting her hips, she crooked her finger with a smile. Devin laughed silently to himself. It was always amusing when females thought they were the charmers when it came to him. He is the alpha—in this and every case. Nonetheless, he was hungry, so he played along. He approached her, smiling back, and looked her up and down, "Good afternoon. Trying to stay dry?"

She cocked her head and tried to make her voice extra sultry, "I am all wet."

He couldn't help but notice how she drew out the word, "all."

She looked him up and down as well and said, "Come inside here with me," while gesturing to the dilapidated building.

The door opened without any resistance, apart from the loud moan of its rusted hinges, and he followed her into the abandoned store. He looked around the rundown building, "What is this place?"

She, too, looked around, "I dunno, I think it was a grocery store or somethin'. But, now, it can be a place to get to know you better." She turned and looked at the flowers in his hand and batted her lashes at him playfully. "Are those for me?"

"No," he said, and as she approached him seductively, he added, "I don't have time for this." Then he had his dinner.

His hunger contained for now, he left her body there with the rats and headed back to Salena's house to leave her a present. She wasn't home yet, so he left the flowers by her garden tub and looked around some more. He became especially interested in her painting, and, being artistic himself, he added a few brush strokes where she had hesitated on the fountain.

When he heard her car in the driveway, he went down through the basement door and left the same way he'd come in.

Salena, still drenched from the rain, pulled into her driveway. A hot bath was definitely in order now; she needed to get ready for her dinner plans anyway. After putting her vegetables in the refrigerator, she shed her wet clothes into the washing machine and put her new ones in the hamper. Then she hesitated; she was sure she could smell the musky fragrance again. She sniffed the air around her then looked down, where it seemed to be coming from. She pulled her pants back out of the washer and, besides stubborn wet fur, there was definitely a musky smell there. She dropped the pants back into the machine like they were on fire and promptly started the wash. Shaking her head, she padded off to the bathroom for a long, relaxing soak.
I'm just imagining things
.
Or maybe not?
She was sure she could smell the enticing musky fragrance throughout her house. But, she already knew he'd been there the night before, so the smell must just be lingering. The memory of their encounter last night made her check all of the doors and windows again.

Confident that all of the locks were secure, Salena headed toward the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway, though, because a vase full of painted daisies—the same daisies she'd eyed earlier, she was sure—was on the ledge of her tub. She ran back to the kitchen and there, on the kitchen counter, was the vase full of flowers from Eric. Someone had gotten inside the house again.
He had been inside my house again. Was he still here?
Terrified, she ran to her bedroom and locked the door.
Would that even do any good?
She quickly threw on clothes and, this time, called the police.

About thirty minutes filled with panic later, Officer Ann Marx showed up and looked around. She investigated all the doors and windows and saw for herself that nothing had been tampered with. She did notice that the basement door didn't have a lock, though, and scolded Salena about that. Then she went downstairs and checked it out. All she saw was the locked patio door, with a built in pet door, that Salena told her was never used. The windows were intact and locked secure as well. "And you are sure you didn't buy these for yourself?" she had her head tilted like Salena was crazy.

Salena cleared her throat, "No. I mean, yes, I am sure I didn't buy them. The storm started in before I had the chance. I am not that forgetful," she added for emphasis. Then, on a side note to herself,
I'm just crazy is all, and I have a vampire after me.

The officer looked at her and shrugged, "Well, the techs have dusted for prints, so we'll see what turns up."

Before she could leave, Salena stopped her, "Wait! There's this too." She pulled her collar aside to expose her neck to the officer.

"What are you trying to show me? I don't see anything."

Salena ran to the bathroom mirror and looked for herself; it was gone—completely. Officer Marx looked at her with deep concern. "I think you should lie down and get some rest. Is there someone we can call for you?" Salena thought about that, remembering her plans suddenly, "No, thank you, I'll be seeing my friends shortly."

The officer reminded her to put a lock on the upstairs basement door and never hesitate to call if she thinks someone has broken in. As the officer was getting into her car, though, Salena saw the woman shake her head side to side.

"Yep, she thinks I'm loco," Salena said aloud as she watched the police leave. Then she called her friends to say she'd be a little late.

After triple checking the lock, she got dressed for her night out with the girls. She hadn't noticed the black cat watching her the entire time.