Limerence II (3 page)

“It is not you I reject,” he begs, his voice thick with worry. “It’s just not allowed.” His voice lowers even further than I would have thought possible.

His grey aura is filling with a mixture of confusing colours, and they make me dizzy—and angrier. My stomach creases unexpectedly, causing me to clutch it and cry out.

“What is wrong?” he asks.

I drop and kneel on the floor, the damp leaves squelching under me as another wave of pain shoots through me. “I don’t know. It hurts, here.” I point to my stomach.

“It’s an overload of your senses, I think. You have been sheltered for too long.” He pulls me up to standing, our chests once more touching. “Close your eyes,” he orders.

I clutch at him, my nails digging into his clothing as I cry out in pain. “It hurts, Evan.”

Piercing daggers of pain slice through my stomach, my insides turning to ratatouille. The sharp smells of the forest grow stronger, until I can almost taste them in my mouth, both bitter and sweet, and vile, as if I have a mouthful of dirt. The world spins as Evan’s arms wrap around me, making me feel worse. He just rejected me for his duty, and it makes me feel stupid, and pathetic, and yet here he is wrapping his arms around me in comfort. The thought makes me angry again and pain punches my gut and I cry out.

“Make it stop!” I beg on a whimper as I look up into his darkening gaze. Even though I feel embarrassment, I still need his help.

“I will, now trust me. Close your eyes.”

I close my eyes, the pain intensifying instantly until all I can think of, all I can feel, is the pain of a thousand splinters tearing through my stomach lining. I want to open my eyes, but as the pain gets worse I find myself screwing them shut.

“Listen to my voice. Close everything off. Forget the sounds around you, forget the smells.” His voice is soft next to my ear and I try to focus on his familiar scent and nothing else. “Forget the colours and sights that you see. Think of nothing. Just focus on my voice.”

His voice softens even more, almost a caress on my earlobe. I wrap his scent around me with a sigh, embracing his earthy warm scent that has offered me so much comfort for the past year. It has been something to cling on to, to hold me firm and not let me break down and lose myself to
her
.

The pain passes until it’s just a dull ache. Evan’s lips touch my neck as he murmurs calming words. His closeness is stifling, and I can’t help but react to him. My stomach, which was filled with so much pain not moments ago, now warms with desire, my body needing to melt against his, naked and wanting. And as if on cue—as if he knows the effect he is having on me—he steps away, leaving me feeling instantly cold.

“Keep calm. Don’t lose control.” He looks at me with concern, and I can see his aura changing colours again. He looks back the way we have come, and I know he is going to make me go back inside. “Calm yourself.”

That’s all he ever says to me:
don’t lose control
,
calm yourself
. Anger rushes up like vomit and swallows me and I push at his chest as my eyes go wide.

“Get away from me,” I snarl.

“Mia, don’t lo—”

“Control. I know, I get it!” Anger burns through me. Perhaps I’m not ready for this after all. Or perhaps I just need Evan to get the hell away from me. “I need some space, Evan. Just leave me.” I stomp away, my stomach still aching, but I’m determined to put distance between us. I’m so confused, both angry and turned on, embarrassed and full of shame.

“No. I cannot. You know that. I have to be with you—especially outside, in case you lose control.”

I turn back around to face him and stamp my foot, and my fangs release. “I said leave me alone.” I can’t fathom my anger at him, but I can’t stop it, either—even knowing that this is ridiculous and I’m not really angry at him. I feel
her
smiling inside, but I don’t care that she’s winning, I don’t care that she’s laughing. My anger and frustrations are bubbling over.

“No, Mia.” He releases his fangs too, flexing his muscles, knowing that I’m losing it. “Control yourself. Now,” he orders with a growl. His muscles contract, his knuckles cracking in preparation, and we both know what is coming, and I cannot control it. “Or I will control you,” he threatens and raises his chin to me.

There are times when you stand and fight, and there are times when you have to know to do as you are told. Right now I should do as I am told, but all my reasoning has gone, and my trainer he is not; my body tells me that he is my enemy, and on that thought I feel more vicious than anything—deadlier than he—and I will not back down.

I growl right back. How dare he keep telling me what to do. I scream and charge him; I sidestep in time to dodge the large hand that flies towards me in an attempt to grapple me. I push away and run around the back of him, but he turns as I do, his leg sweeping out in an attempt to trip me, but I jump over it and growl again. I punch hard into his face, my small yet solid fist landing hard against his perfect cheekbone, hurting us both. But he has taught me to never show pain and never show mercy, and he ducks low away from my next fist, making me miss my mark. I kick out to trip him up, but slip on uncertain feet and land on my back with a thud. My head slams hard against the damp soil, my world going dizzy, and I stare up at the trees with a low groan.

Another groan escapes my lips as the jolt of pain ricochets through my head while it melds back together. It is only momentary, though: a plus point, I suppose. Evan’s fist slams down next to my head, and I flinch away from it as leaves escape up around me in a cloud.

“Get up,” he yells into my face as he straddles my waist. His chocolate brown eyes are wild with nervous energy and I feel myself flinch underneath him as he bares his fangs at me.

I can’t get up, though, no matter how much he shouts. No matter how much he hurts me. I can’t summon the strength in my body.

“Get up now, Mia.” He looks down at me, his mouth set in an angry scowl. “Do you not want to be free, woman?”

“I’ll never be free,” I yell right back with an angry sob.

His look softens ever so slightly when he sees my exhaustion, and he stares for too long a moment before leaning over and placing a chaste kiss on my lips. His lips burn against mine, both soft and hard, and then they are gone, and calmness washes through me. I look away from him; I haven’t the energy to fight him now. The moment has passed, and I haven’t the mindset to work out what his kiss meant to me or to him. I only know that with it came calmness.

I look back to Evan and note with a frown the pinkish tinge to his normally healthy golden skin tone. His lips part to say something more, but instead of letting him speak, I put a finger up against them to silence him. I’ve had enough of him shouting at me; I’m not ready for this yet.

Three
.

If I didn’t know
any better, I would think I had the hangover from hell. Since I do know better, and I know that alcohol has zero effect on me, I’m guessing that the feeling of my brain trying to escape through every open orifice in my face must be something to do with me going completely off the rails last night. Sensory overload seems to be the only thing that can truly calm
her
down. If nothing else, at least I get to have a day off from fighting her.

The sun is only just rising as I sit up, resting my chin upon my knees and rubbing the sleep from my eyes with a yawn. The room is pulsing, throbbing in and out and making my stomach churn. I’ve been here too many times to know that wallowing in my own self-pity doesn’t help. Only one thing helps when I feel like this.

Feeding.

I dress without care, pulling on the first random thing, and am out of the door before the sun has fully risen, and heading straight to the dining room. It’s early, too early for most, but I’m almost sure that Mad Donny will be there. He seems to be no matter what time I turn up, and being that I am a vampire—that we are all vampires here, and sleep is a life choice and not an actual fact of life like it is for humans—the times that I have turned up for blood have been very peculiar. Yet he is always there, no matter what time it is, like an anchor for me to cling to. He’s very important to me, probably more so than he realises, because he is part of my support system: always here when I need to be fed.

The wood-panelled corridors are quiet, my steps the only sound. It seems I have been alone a lot since I arrived. Left to my own thoughts, my own devices, and with only a handful of rules that have to be obeyed: Do not go outside. Only feed what you are served. Control yourself, and train. Every day. What the hell I’m training for I don’t know, and I don’t like it either, but I made a promise to the Queen and I am bound by it, regardless of what I do or do not like. That much was made clear last night.

I jog down the concrete steps, from my floor to the second, and then again to the ground floor. The grand sweeping staircase looks old. Nothing is new or modern here: everything is old, and everyone older than me. I’m like a young sapling, trying to find firm soil to plant my roots, but I don’t feel grounded here, or free like a flower. I feel trapped.

My head pounds even more, making my stomach twist itself into knots. I need blood desperately. My arms wrap around my middle and I lean back against the wall to steady myself. Why the hell did they put the stupid blood bank so far away from the rooms, anyway? I glance about me, dreading the thought of some of the other vampires seeing me like this—weak. I’m not weak. I have a power that most of them can only dream of, and for that a lot of them are jealous.

No one warned me that everything we feel would be intensified by a thousand. I can’t just feel sad; I feel total, utter, devastating depression. I can’t feel happiness; instead I feel an overabundance of elation. And I won’t get started on the sexual energy that burns my core.

I slam through a heavy wooden door, the dining room finally in sight. I can smell the blood already, smell the humans, and I can smell Donny. I continue to jog to the door, running in and come to a skidding stop. Donny looks up at me, glass already in hand and a smile plastered on his face.

“Good morning, Mia.”

“Donny.” I tip my head to him, and in the blink of a perfectly lashed eye I’m snatching the blood from him and tipping it to the back of my throat. The pain intensifies and then dies down to a dull yet bearable throb in my lower skull. I rub a hand against the pain. Let’s just call it hair of the dog and be done with it.

“How are you today, Mia?”

I raise a sardonic eyebrow. “How am I? So you haven’t heard about my meltdown last night then?” The nausea is still there, but it’s settling down now, thankfully.

Donny turns to the human behind him: a girl—young, perhaps seventeen. Her cheeks are plump and firm, her skin rosy, but those damn eyes are still dead. She’s new, a fresh human for us, and if it weren’t for the dull ache still with me, I might even consider what her life has been to get her to this point. I watch Donny with morbid fascination as he uncorks her wrist and pours me another glass. He moves along to the second girl next to her—a dark-haired, pale-skinned, skinny thing with her eyes half closed and a little dribble on her lips. He adds a little of her blood to my glass and gives it a stir with his finger.

“I heard, of course I heard, but that does not explain to me how you are today, does it?” He smiles as he hands me the glass. The blood is ever so slightly frothy, just as I like it. Now all I need is one of those little umbrellas and a cherry for the top to make this the perfect cocktail.

I stare at it for too long. The blood is so pure, direct from the vein and still hot. I’m guessing Donny wheeled her out just for me, her blood already flavoured for the day, no doubt. I can smell the rich ironness to it, but it doesn’t make me hungry; it stirs up another emotion inside of me—one from long ago. I look up at him. His hazel eyes are looking at me sadly and he runs a hand across his chin and along the gruff growing there. He’s older than most of us here—not vampire years, but actual years. Why he was turned is a mystery to everyone, but then again, so are most things.

“I’m fine, Donny, but thank you.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“What more could I want? I have my looks, my strength, and hell—if all else fails, I have my charming personality to win friends with.” I laugh, but it’s without humour.

“Mia,” Donny tsks at me. “You know better than to put on a front with me.” He leans on the counter like we’re college girlfriends chatting about boys.

I mimic him with a smile, feeling better now that the blood is in my system, noting once again how quickly my emotions change. “I’m still adjusting. I keep being told to control it, control myself, control her, control, control, control—” I take a sip of the blood cocktail and hiss as everything sharpens into focus.

“Mia, calm down,”

“
And
‘calm down’. That’s another phrase that’s on repeat. I just want something more than this. Forever is a long time to live like this.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. It’s barely been a year.” Donny frowns. “Drink.” He touches the bottom of my glass.

“Eleven months, three weeks, four days and counting.” My voice comes out sadder than I mean it to. I huff. “Is this it? Is this all there is?” I ask genuinely.

“No, sweet girl, no. There’s a whole world out there for you to live and enjoy, but only when you are in con—”

“Control.” I grin. “There’s that word again.” I take another sip of the cocktail. “God, that’s good.”

“It’s a good word.” He grins. “And don’t curse.”

I laugh lightly at my curse word. Yes,
God
is a bad word to say around here. “It’s a sucky word. It sucks the fun out of everything, and it sucks the life out of me.” I pout.

“No, I believe someone else did that to you.” He laughs uproariously, and I can’t help but join in, even knowing that it’s my death we’re laughing at.

*

Hey, wait up.”

I turn to see Lora running to catch up with me. She’s one of the only vampires other than Evan that I actually call a friend, though my friendship with Evan is on unsteady ground at the moment. She’s been a vampire for longer than me, and is training to be a Pawn since she has no Bastion skills. Though blessed with speed, strength, and charming good looks, like all vampires, she managed to retain her own personality traits from her human life, and found the transition easier than most. She would have made a great Bastion if she would have had a little more power.

Her human life was blighted by foster homes and abuse, which inevitably led to her living on the streets and getting mixed up with drugs, until one day she was found bleeding out on the sidewalk by a vampire. He could have killed her there and then, but for some reason he chose to let her live, and she’s been working to repay the debt to him ever since. Being a vampire offered her a new life, away from the pain that she was used to, and she adjusted to it with ease. She always swore that she would make her foster brother pay. And she did, by ripping out his throat.

“So, I heard that someone went a little crazy last night.” She falls into step beside me, not out of breath in the slightest considering that she just ran from one end of the hallway to the other in less than twenty seconds.

I huff. “You heard? Or you were gossiping?”

“I heard. I don’t gossip. You know me.” Lora feigns offense and laughs. “Don’t make me gossip some more to get to the truth.”

I stop and face her with a frown. “Evan finally said I could go outside.”

“Aah, the hunk let you off your training reins. About time.”

“That’s what I thought, but then it wasn’t anything like I hoped it would be. I freaked. Evan said it was a sensory overload or something.” I groan, feeling my head beginning to hurt again.

“And what do you think?”

“I try not to. It hurts to think. I feel confused and weak when I think, and when I feel like that,
she
wakes up and ruins everything, like last night. I can’t seem to get a grip on her.” I rub a hand on one side of my temple. “I think I’m losing it. I just worry that—I don’t know what I’ll be like if I do lose it. Would it really be so bad?”

Lora looks horrified and grabs my elbow before pulling me into the closest room, closing the door behind her. I stare around us in annoyance, realising that we are in an empty classroom, long since abandoned and full of dusty furniture. With a vampire’s super-keen eyesight, things like dust are a great irritation.

“Yes, it would be that bad,” she shout-whispers dramatically, her head of blond curls bobbing around her face. “There’s an old story—a myth, really—that that’s what happened to the Queen. That’s why she’s so…” Lora rolls her eyes and gags. “Creepy-looking.” She shrugs her shoulders and grimaces.

It’s true that the Queen is not blessed with the standard beauty of normal vampires. Her skin is like polished marble and glistens as if damp, her hair pure white, and her eyes elongated. But her teeth are what instil the most fear, for she does not have two fangs in her mouth. Her mouth is filled with row upon row of tiny fangs. Sharp, pointed teeth that could rip a man in half if they wanted. She is not the all-encompassing beauty, but she is beautiful in her own way. For there is none like her in this world.

“I think that has more to do with her being thousands of years old.”

“Maybe, but look, all I’m saying is that you can’t go around talking about letting your inner vampire out. That bitch is powerful, and the Queen only allows the most self-disciplined and controllable vampires to stay here. The rest—any that talk of releasing their inner vampires—are taken away and never seen again.”

I shrug. “So, she’ll kick me out. What’s the worst damn thing that could happen? I hate it here. I’m sick of being controlled and held back. Right now, I’d gladly take freedom.” I run a finger along one of the tables and grimace as a clean path is left in its wake.

“It’s not freedom you’ll get. It’s death.”

I look back to her and watch as her eyes grow wide.

“There’s only one all-powerful vampire allowed to live, and that’s the Queen. So stop throwing remarks like that around so casually, Mia.” She places a hand on my arm. “You’ll get there, you’ll control
her
, and then you’ll be unstoppable.”

She’s not the first person to say that to me. The Queen went out of her way to get me here, and I know she wouldn’t let me go without a fight. She lost a powerful and old Bastion vampire—Mr Breckt—to keep me. My heart, or rather what should be my heart, burns at the thought of him. I remember the fear and the hatred he put me through, the pain and agony that he caused to those I loved dear. I can only hope that he was made to pay for it like was promised to me. Though if I were to be really honest, I can’t quite say I care either way anymore. More I know that I
should
care.

When I think of the past, my past, I feel numb to it. I remember how I had felt—the love, the affection, the sadness, the joy—but it’s only a memory of a feeling, and not something I feel anything towards now. Kind of like what I expect it would be like to lose a limb and attempt to keep on moving it as if it were still attached.

I feel nothing for the past.

Not even hate.