Never Been Bit (6 page)

He hadn’t realized the truth until after that terrible night when he’d been transformed into the monster he was now.

Once his sense of smell had been enhanced beyond measure, Alec had known upon his first scent of his old friend that Ben was a Lycan. The betrayal was still difficult to accept after all they’d been through together. “This has nothing to do with Ben.”

And it didn’t. Not at all. Ben wasn’t at Castle Hythe or Eynsford Park, trying to lure Sorcha down a dark path not meant for a lady of her sweet innocence. She was as delicate as the flowers she controlled with her thoughts and emotions, not a chit to be toyed with the way Radbourne and his brothers were wont to do.

“Little Rose was born, ye ken?” she said, completely knocking his thoughts off-balance.

What had she said? Little Rose Westfield had been born? Yes, he knew that. It would have been impossible to miss. Ben had sent more than one letter announcing the blessed event. More than one
unanswered
letter.

“She has the prettiest mop of red hair, just like Elspeth,” Sorcha continued merrily.

He could hear the smile in her voice, and strangely enough, it made him smile too. It had been so long since he’d done so that the smile didn’t quite feel right on his face. “Does the tiny little witch have her mother’s green eyes too?”

“No, silly,” she laughed. “Bairns have
blue
eyes. Though Benjamin swears they’ll change ta look just like his.”

“They haven’t yet?”

“They’re blue as cornflowers. And gettin’ bluer every day.”

Alec could just imagine the infant witch in his mind’s eye.

His oldest friend’s daughter who must look amazingly similar to her mother. He smiled despite himself.

“Benjamin wanted ye ta be Rose’s godfather. He said he sent ye letters askin’ ye ta do so.”

The smile vanished from Alec’s face and he was glad to see Castle Hythe on the horizon.

“He has brothers who can fill that role.”

“But they’re his brothers.
Ye’re
his friend. Ye’re the one he wants ta look after Rose’s future.”

“I can’t step foot in church, Sorcha,” he growled, even though he didn’t want to. It wasn’t her fault that he’d been attacked by an enraged vampyre. It wasn’t her fault that his only choice had been to die or become the same sort of monster who had stolen his life. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t be little Rose Westfield’s godfather. “Ben should have known better than to ask.”

She leaned against him and slid her hand around his arm. Her warmth and apple blossom scent enveloped him.

“I am sorry, Alec.”

He nodded because there was nothing left to say. She was sorry. Ben was sorry. Damn it, even Alec was sorry.

But sorry couldn’t fix all that had gone wrong in Alec’s life. It wouldn’t make Cait love him. It wouldn’t make him human again. It was just a sorry excuse for a word.

Alec focused on the castle, growing larger and larger each moment as they neared it, and he tried to clear his mind. “The fellow in the carriage. He’ll be all right in the morning?”

“The valerian dust will leave him with a headache, but he’ll be all right.”

“Will he remember you coercing him into taking you to the village?”

Sorcha shrugged. “Probably. But I think Johnny has a soft spot for me. I doona think he’ll say anythin’.”

A soft spot. Any man with eyes would have a soft spot for Sorcha and a very hard something else. “It’s better not to take the chance. I’ll have a
talk
with him in the morning to ensure his silence.”

She sucked in a breath beside him. “Are ye goin’ ta enchant him? Can I watch?”

If he hadn’t been holding onto the reins, he’d have fallen right off the bench. He
had
planned to enchant the groom, to wipe his memory of the previous night. But how the devil did she know about that power?

“No, you can’t watch!” he barked. “How do you even know of such things?”

Completely immune to his ill humor, she smiled up at him. The stars reflected in her dark eyes, and she reminded him once more of the most innocent of creatures.

“Blaire,” she answered cheerily. “She told Rhi and I that we were never ta look a vampyre in the eyes. That ye can control a human by enchantin’ them.”

“Apparently Rhiannon didn’t pay any attention to
that
lesson,” he grumbled. And Blaire Kettering should know better than to go around talking about vampyre powers.

Others of his kind weren’t particularly happy about their secrets getting out.

Sorcha giggled. “Well, Rhi
had
ta look Lord Blodswell in the eyes. How was she ta get him ta fall in love with her otherwise?”

How indeed? Alec shook his head. “No looking vampyres in the eyes, Sorch. Blaire was right. And no following Lycans around the countryside unless you want to get yourself mauled.”

She laughed again. The sweet, melodic sound made him think of Scotland and of a less complicated time. “But I can look in yer eyes, Alec. I ken ye’d never hurt me.”

No. He’d never hurt her and he’d make damnsure no other man, be he Lycan or human, did either.

“Can I ask ye a question, Alec?”

As though he could stop her. He sighed heavily. “What is it, lass?”

“When was the last time ye had a bit of blood? Ye look a little pale.”

“It’s the moonlight,” he hedged. “You look pale too.”

“Do I?” she mused aloud. “Hmm. But ye dinna answer my question.”

Of course she’d notice that. “About when I last had sustenance? Yesterday before I left London.”

“Oh. I thought maybe ye’d found a maid or someone at the tavern in Folkestone.”

She would never cease to amaze him. How the devil did she know such things? She must have read his expression because she shrugged once more.

“Blaire says they’re the easiest targets for a vampyre.”

“Blaire should learn to keep her mouth closed.”

Sorcha grinned up at him. “I’ll let ye tell her that yerself. I doona need any bruises.” She snuggled closer to him on the bench. “She also says ye can go days without feedin’.”

True. The more one moved around, the more one needed to feed. And he needed blood soon.

“Well, if ye doona want ta enchant a barmaid, ye can always take what ye need from me.”

Alec choked on a cough. Good God! He couldn’t believe she’d said that. Now all he’d think about the rest of the night was sipping her blood and sharing his passion. Bloody perfect! “Are ye all right?” She hit his back, as though that would stop his sputtering.

“Sorcha!” he hissed. “You can’t go around saying things like that. Some less principled vampyre might take you up on that offer.”

She blinked at him and lifted her wrist up to him as though it was an offering. “Well, I have plenty. I think it would be all right ta share. Especially if ye doona want ta go back ta Folkestone.”

“Sorcha!” he growled louder.

She sighed as though he were the most troublesome man of her acquaintance. “Or ye can visit the butcher shop in the village. I noticed it yesterday when Maddie and I were shoppin’. But I’d think I must taste better than whatever ye could find there.”

He was one hundred percent certain she was right.

Sorcha would taste of sweetness, innocence, and light, and he would be the worst sort of cad if he took her up on her offer. Now if he could only forget the images she’d planted in his mind.

Butcher shop in the village. Damn it all to hell.

He stopped the carriage, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath, even though he no longer needed one. She’d already planted the seeds in his mind, so he had the taste of her on the tip of his tongue; it was easy to make his teeth descend. They were teeth that could pierce her flesh, taking the source of her life into his own body as sustenance. He turned to her and smiled, fully aware that his rakish grin of years past, the one she was used to seeing, no longer existed.

“Oh, my,” she gasped as one hand fluttered to land on her chest in surprise.

“Oh, my, indeed.” He nodded as he moved to pick the reins back up.

“Wait,” she said as she pressed her hand to his arm.

He tried to keep the bite out of his voice, but he was fairly certain he was failing miserably when he said, “
What
, Sorcha?”

“Well, ye canna let me have a peek and then turn away. At least let me look at ye. Doin’ otherwise is a bit like givin’ a child a birthday gift and then takin’ it back.” She huffed in indignation.

“You are too curious for your own good,” he grunted. “Or mine,” he mumbled under his breath. But against his best judgment, he turned back toward her. The vision that met him was enough to floor him.

Sorcha sat beside him, her delicate little hand pressed against his arm. Only the Sorcha he remembered was gone. With her head tilted in curiosity, the moonlight caught her face, transforming the girl he’d once known to the woman who sat beside him. When
had
she grown up?

“I think they’re quite handsome,” she said with a nod of approval.

She reached out as though to touch his mouth. “Don’t,” he said as he captured her hand in his.

~*~

He needed to let someone touch him. He needed it more than anything. Alec had once been so loving and so casually free with his emotions. Now he was this big ball of tormented vampyre with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sorcha tried to turn her hand and extract it from his heavy grasp, but he just covered it with his other so that her hand was sandwiched between his.

“You’re so warm,” he said absently, his voice tortured, as though his words were wrenched from his very soul.

“And ye’re so cold,” she replied, but she raised her other hand to cover his and squeezed. He closed his eyes. Such a tormented man. “Ye need someone ta warm ye up.”

His eyes flew open. “There is no one who can do that for me. Not anymore.”

“So, ye think ye’re doomed ta live this life? This life ye canna tolerate? This life is no’ meant for ye, Alec. I’m certain of it.”

“Don’t assume my life will be returned to me like Blodswell’s and Kettering’s were. I’m not like them.” She could almost hear the words she knew to be in his head.

My heart is not mine to recover because I gave it away.

He’d not say the words aloud. Not now.

“Ye have a ring,” Sorcha said as she searched for the relic with her fingertips and lifted it toward the moon. “That is all ye need. That and ta fall in love.”

He snorted.

“Do ye think yerself unlovable? Is that it? I can promise ye that is far from the truth.”

In a sudden move that nearly scared her, he took her shoulders in his hands and brought her face close to his.

“Do you think you know me?” he snapped. “Do you think you know all that I’ve become? You have no idea, Sorcha. You have no idea what I have to do to survive now.”

“Then tell me,” she urged softly as she reached up to touch the side of his face. He leaned into her hand, almost like a cat that wanted to be petted. He didn’t even seem to realize it. But she did. So, she threaded her fingers into the hair at his temple and tried to soothe him with a gentle stroke.

He immediately realized her intention and jerked his head away, just when she got too close for comfort. For his, not hers. She could be much closer and still be comfortable. “That may work for Lycans, a scratch behind the ears, but it will not work for vampyres. We’re a completely different breed,” he ground out.

“Fine,” she quipped. She’d had just about enough of his brooding. “I’ll find a Lycan who might like my strokin’ more than ye do.” Then she put her hand back down in her own lap.

“Over
my dead body
,” he growled.

“That should be easy ta do seein’ as how yer body is as dead as yer heart. It is, is it no’?” she goaded him. She knew she was crossing a line, but she couldn’t help it. The brooding vampyre act was growing tiresome.

“My heart
is
dead,” he affirmed. “The rest of me, apparently, is fully alive, as long as I act the part of the parasite I am and take the life source of others.” He said the last drolly with a casual flick of his wrist.

“The rest of ye is alive?” she cried. “How
dare
ye tell me a lie like that, Alec MacQuarrie?” She turned and scrambled down from the carriage, landing solidly on her feet. He was only seconds behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he stalked her.

“As far from ye as I possibly can,” she tossed over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to sit there and let him lie to her.

She’d walk all the way back to Castle Hythe on her own.

However, Sorcha had only taken a few steps before Alec overtook her. “Why are you running from me?” he asked as he spun her around.

She blew a wisp of hair from in front of her eyes. It landed back across her brow, and he very casually reached out to push it back, as though it was something he wanted to do. “I absolutely despise a liar,” she bit out. “And I have had just about enough of ye ta last me a lifetime. So, go on, Alec. Go on and wallow in yer own self pity. But stay away from me. I plan ta find a nice beast of my own ta settle down with. And ye are standin’ solidly in my path.”

He looked at her as though she’d grown two heads. “Just
why
are you mad at me?” he croaked. “You dashed from the carriage as though the hounds of hell were barking at your heels.”

“No,” she clarified. “Just ye.” Her toe began to tap in frustration as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him.

“When did you become such a shrew?” he taunted.

“I’m too young ta be a shrew,” she tossed back. “Ye really should apologize for callin’ me names. I’ve done nothin’ but try ta help ye tonight.”

“Help me?” Alec scoffed. “I don’t recall that. Though I certainly remember you infuriating me at every possible opportunity.” He began to tick items off on his fingers. “One, you sneak out in the dead of night to chase after some Lycans who don’t even know you’re alive because you have some misguided notion that one of them is in your future.”

He bumped another finger. “Two, you drugged the Hythe’s poor groom with something even I’m not familiar with and then convinced a Lycan to fold the groom’s body up in the carriage.” He ticked off a third finger. “Three, you forced me to leave my search for a good meal in order to escort you home.”