Dark Gold (19 page)

Aidan's safeguards were holding strong. Spells that were ancient and strong, known only to a few of the oldest of his people, were woven into the doors' intricate stained-glass windows. Gregori, the dark one, the most feared of the Carpathian hunters and their greatest healer, had taught him much—the safeguards, healing, even the ways to hunt the undead. Mikhail, their leader and Gregori's only friend, had agreed to send Aidan to the United States as a hunter once it was known the betrayers had begun to branch out and seek other worlds for use as their killing fields. Gregori trained few hunters; he was a loner and avoided others as a rule.

Julian, Aidan's twin brother, had tried to work with Gregori for a time, but he was too much like the dark one. A loner. He needed the highest peaks, the deepest forests. He needed to run with the wolf and soar with the eagles, just as Gregori had chosen to do. Theirs had not been the way of people, of cities, or even of their own kind.

Aidan moved through the spotless kitchen to the basement door. It suddenly occurred to him how good the kitchen always smelled, with its aromas of fresh-baked bread and spices. Marie, and her family before her, had always made his house a home. He had never really appreciated it before. Their loyalty had remained the wonder of his life, but he had never noticed the way they had made his heretofore bleak life bearable.

He breathed in the scent of his family. Warmth spread through his body, his heart. After centuries of a cold, barren existence, he wanted to fall to his knees in gratitude at the unexpected joy of family. He had never noticed the rustic efficiency of the basement before, either. It wasn't simply a musty, underground space but a bright, expansive room boasting Stefan's rich wood carvings and a well-organized array of tools. Work benches and tables were clean and orderly, garden tools gleamed with care, and to their left were countless bags of rich soil stacked carefully. Stefan. He owed the man so much.

Aidan himself had meticulously cut out the tunnel leading down to his hidden chamber after studying the rock forming the cliff and knowing that the secret chamber would be impossible to penetrate or detect so close to the large body of water. The undead might know he was sleeping close by, but they would never pinpoint his exact location.

Aidan had chosen the site of his home with care. As money was seldom an object when one lived for centuries, he had more than enough for several lifetimes. It was simply a matter of finding the right location and building to his specific needs. He wanted a few neighbors so that he blended in with his new society, but he needed space and privacy, grounds he could roam in and the freedom of the countryside in his own backyard. He needed the sea with its crashing waves and scents and mist that he could manipulate when necessary.

His property, overlooking the ocean on a bluff, was as close to perfect as he could find. He owned plenty of land around the house to use as a buffer between himself and the neighbors, yet there were other houses along the road. He had the privacy he needed if one of the betrayers found him and he had to fight without danger of someone coming upon them.

Setting up a new home in a new land had been one of the most difficult things he had ever done. But now, as he approached his sleeping chamber, that difficulty paled in comparison to what his brave Alexandria faced in her new life. She expected to die, even welcomed death, especially if it meant saving another—him. He had felt in her mind that she was not willing to prey on the human race for nourishment. She did not have a predatory nature or predatory instincts. And she feared she was vampire. No amount of explanation would overcome her distrust. Only time could do that, and he somehow had to buy himself enough of it with her to convince her that neither of them was vampire, neither of them a heartless killer. He needed the time to make her realize she belonged to him, with him, that they could never be apart.

He brought her out of the earth cradled in his arms. Stretching out on the bed, he motioned with one hand and closed the earth and trap door. She did not need to face the evidence of their unusual life all at once. She would awaken in a bed in a chamber. She would have enough to deal with without finding herself virtually buried in the earth itself.

He would have to work fast. The moment she was awake, he would have to seize her mind, before she became aware of what was happening and attempted to resist him. He did not want to start their relationship by forcing her to do something abhorrent to her; still, he had no choice but to replace her huge blood loss.

He took a breath, stroked back her hair, then opened his shirt.
Wake
, piccola.
Wake and take what you need to live. Drink what I freely offer. Do as I command
. Beneath his hand her heart stuttered, laboring to awaken as he bade even without sufficient blood to sustain life. His fingernail sliced his chest, and he pressed her mouth to the steady red stream.

He held her mind firmly as her body slowly warmed, as her heart and lungs found a rhythm. With the infusion of his blood, so much more powerful than most, her strength returned quickly. Without warning, she fought him, abruptly becoming aware of what was happening to her. With a small sigh, he allowed her to prevail, deliberately loosening his hold.

She dragged herself away from him, falling onto the floor, trying to spit the blood from her mouth, trying desperately to hate the taste of the sweet, hot fluid building strength in her.

"How could you?" She crawled away from the bed, scrambled to her feet, and pressed herself against the wall, wiping at her mouth over and over. Her eyes were wild with horror.

Aidan was forced to close the wound on his chest. He moved slowly to reduce her fear. Very carefully he sat up. "Be calm, Alexandria. You did not yet take in enough nourishment to restore your strength."

"I can't believe you did this. I'm supposed to be dead. You promised to take care of Joshua. What have you done?" She was gasping for breath, the wall holding her up. Her legs felt like rubber. He had lied to her.
Lied
.

"You chose life for me, Alexandria. And I cannot live without you. Our lives are bound together now. One cannot survive without the other." He spoke gently, making no move to go to her. She looked as if she might bolt at the slightest provocation.

"I chose to save
your
life. We both knew what that meant." She said it desperately, jamming a fist against her mouth to keep from screaming. She could not, would not, live like this.

"I knew what it meant,
cara
. You did not."

"You're a liar. How can I believe anything you say? You made me the same as you, and now you're forcing me to live on blood. I won't, Aidan. I don't care what you do to me, but I won't take someone's blood." She shuddered visibly and slid down the wall to the floor. She drew her knees up to her chest and rocked, trying to comfort herself.

Aidan took a breath, careful not to react too quickly to her words. She was totally withdrawing from him, her mind blocking him out. Or so she thought. He was familiar with her mind now, and he slowly entered, a slight shadow, ever watchful. "I have never lied to you, Alexandria. You decided that if you saved my life, you would be giving up your own." Deliberately his voice was velvet.

"You were afraid for Stefan."

"Why would I choose to allow Stefan to live and take your life? There is no sense in that. I did not trust myself to stop with Stefan. I had lost far too much blood, and my survival instincts were too strong. You were the only one safe."

He said it softly. His musical, hypnotic voice washed over her, seeping into her and tempering the horror of what she had become, easing a bit of the tension between them. "Why? Why would I be safe? Stefan has been your friend for years. You don't know me. Why would I be safe when he is not?"

"You are my lifemate. I could never harm you. For you I could control myself, and you I could replenish. I have told you this on more than one occasion, but you insist on ignoring the information."

"I don't understand any of this!" she blurted out. "I just know I want away from you. You're confusing me to the point that I don't know if you're putting thoughts into my head or if they're my own."

"You are not a prisoner, Alexandria, but the truth is, you need to remain close to me. There is no way you can protect yourself and Joshua without me."

"I'll leave the city. Evidently it's overrun with vampires anyway. Who would want to stay?" she asked, somewhere between bitterness and hysterical laughter.

"Where would you go? How would you live? Who would take care of Joshua in the daytime while you are forced to sleep?"

Alexandria clamped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out his words. "Shut up, Aidan. I don't want to listen to you again." She lifted her chin, her sapphire eyes meeting his. Very slowly, unsteadily she pushed her way back up the wall.

He rose slowly, his movements mirroring hers. He looked so powerful, so invincible, she couldn't believe she was defying him. Hunger crawled inside her. The small amount of blood he had given her had merely whetted her appetite. Her starving body cried out, was insistent, impossible to ignore. Alexandria pressed a hand to her mouth. She was evil; he was evil. Neither of them should be alive.

That is not true, Alexandria, not true at all
. He glided slowly toward her, silent, unpredictable, his voice so velvet soft, so very persuasive. She rubbed her forehead. "God, you're in my head. Do you really think I'm going to believe it's normal to talk to one another in our minds? That you always know what I'm thinking?"

"It is normal for Carpathians. You are not a vampire,
cara
. You are a Carpathian. And you are my lifemate."

"Stop it! Don't say it anymore!" Alexandria admonished.

"I will keep saying it until you understand the difference."

"I understand you made me like this. And that I'm not supposed to be alive. And no one is supposed to live for centuries. And no one is supposed to kill others to survive."

"Animals do it all the time,
piccola
. And humans kill animals to eat. But in any case, we do not kill when we feed, as vampires often do. It is forbidden, and the act itself taints the blood, destroys the soul," he said patiently. "There is no need to fear your new life."

"I don't have a life." Watching his every move, she inched toward the door. "You took my life away from me."

He was several feet from the heavy stone entrance, she only inches. But even as she jerked it open, his hand was already stopping her. His body, so much larger, so much stronger, was blocking her way to freedom.

Alexandria went still. "I thought I wasn't a prisoner."

"Why do you resist my aid? If you leave this chamber with your hunger as it is, your distress will increase."

Aidan wasn't touching her, but she could feel his heat. Her body seemed to reach for his. Even her mind sought his touch. Horrified, she pushed at him. "Get away from me. I'm going to sit with Joshua for a while. I need to think, and I don't want you around. If I'm not your prisoner, then get away from me."

"You cannot go near the boy looking as you do. You are covered in dirt and smeared with my blood."

"Where's your shower?"

He hesitated, then decided against mentioning she wouldn't need one if she didn't want one. Let her be as human as she needed to be. It cost him nothing. "You may as well use your private bathroom on the second floor. Your clothes are in your room, and everyone is asleep. You will not be disturbed there." He stepped back and gestured toward the passageway.

Alexandria ran through the tunnel and burst into the basement. She had to leave this place. What was she going to do with Joshua? Aidan was dragging her further and further into his world. A world of madness, of insanity. She had to leave.

She had never been on the second floor, but she was so distraught, she scarcely noticed the ornate banister, the plush carpets, the elegance of each room. Marie had done the best she could to place Alexandria's things around, to make her feel more like this was her home. Alexandria peeled off her filthy clothing and stepped into the large glass-doored shower. It was immaculate, as if no one had ever used it.

She turned on the water as hot as she could stand it and turned up her face to the flow, trying not to give in to hysteria. She was not a vampire, not a killer. She didn't belong in this house. Joshua certainly didn't belong here. She closed her eyes. What was she going to do? Where could they go? Slowly she threaded her fingers through her thick braid, loosening the weave so she could wash her hair. Long and fast-growing, it fell past her hips as she massaged the shampoo into her scalp. What was she going to do? She had no idea, and none seemed forthcoming.

Hunger was ever present, gnawing at her until her mind seemed consumed with it. She could taste the spice of Aidan's blood on her tongue. Her mouth watered, and her body cried out for more. Tears mingled with the water pouring over her face. She couldn't pretend this wasn't happening. Worst of all, she could barely tolerate being apart from Aidan. She could feel her mind, of its own accord, reaching for him. Her heart was heavy, almost grief-stricken, away from him. She could not stop thinking about him.

"I hate you, what you've done to me," she whispered aloud, hoping he was listening to her mind.

She dressed slowly, choosing her clothes carefully. Her favorite pair of jeans, worn and faded with two rips in them. She loved the feel of them against her skin. They were so normal, so much a part of her everyday life. Her favorite ivory lace cardigan, with the little pearl buttons that always made her feel feminine.

As she unwrapped the towel from her hair, she looked at herself in the mirror for the first time. She was slightly shocked there was even a reflection. She had a hysterical impulse to call Thomas Ivan and tell him he needed to rethink some of his ideas for his silly vampire games. He didn't seem quite so brilliant anymore. Still, she looked fragile, pale, her eyes too large for her face. She touched her neck. There was smooth, satin skin, no scars, no faded wounds. Lifting her hands in wonder, she studied her long fingernails. She had never been able to grow long nails. Her fingers clenched into fists.