Secret Worlds (213 page)

Michelle clutched Amaia to her, hands already working at the clothes separating them. Amaia’s heart raced, pumping blood furiously through her body, carrying previously unknown sensations. How was it possible that after a century and a half, there were still touches left unfelt?

Once their clothes were removed, they shifted to the floor in front of the pew. Michelle grinned and slithered down Amaia’s body. Grasping Amaia’s hips, Michelle began to flick her tongue against Amaia. Jolts of pleasure coursed through her. Amaia’s hips bucked toward Michelle’s mouth, wanting more. Michelle responded by rubbing her hands up Amaia’s body, clasping a nipple in each hand. It was too much. Amaia was blinded by the force of the ecstasy traveling up and down her body. She tried to hold on, waging a desperate battle to keep control so the moment wouldn’t end. She couldn’t. The thought of who exactly was between her legs at the moment poured her joy over the edge, and she began to orgasm.

Michelle replaced her tongue with one of her fingers and climbed up Amaia, covering her mouth with her own, swallowing Amaia’s scream of euphoria. Amaia clutched Michelle to her, needing to be closer than it was possible to be. She needed Michelle to feel the same rapture Amaia did, but it was impossible. Once the wave of euphoria had passed, Amaia slid a hand down to Michelle’s sex, pleasuring her the best way she knew how. Her other hand grasped one of Michelle’s breasts. The weight was unfamiliar, but entirely comfortable, in Amaia’s hand. Breaking free of Michelle’s lips, Amaia lowered her tongue to a nipple, first lightly flicking and then sucking it entirely into her mouth. Carefully she rolled it around with her tongue, enjoying the novelty of the feeling. Michelle’s hands tangled in Amaia’s hair.

“Yes. Please, keep going. More.” Michelle’s voice was soft and breathy.

Amaia increased her speed. It wouldn’t take much longer. An instant later, Michelle tensed. Amaia left the delicious nipple to swallow Michelle’s screams in a kiss, just as Michelle had done. They were in an empty chapel, but too much sound would echo and could draw attention.

When Michelle calmed, Amaia broke the kiss. “Did you like it?” She looked into Michelle’s dilated eyes. It was the first time she needed reassurance after sex. Then again, there were a lot of firsts happening. For her, it had been unlike any sex she had ever experienced, both in the intensity and the emotion that had accompanied it.

Michelle’s grin split her face. “Like doesn’t begin to describe it. Of course I loved it. It was you.”

Amaia felt more naked at those words than she ever had. “We should get dressed.”

Fully clothed, they laid together on the floor between pews, Amaia resting her head on Michelle’s breast. It was odd. She had never gotten along well with women. Most of the time, they disdained and despised her. She had always felt comfortable around men. Men were easy. Then again, Michael never had been. Perhaps that was why she felt more at ease with him as a woman.

“I love you.” The words escaped her lips, flying out before she could even consider whether it was wise to utter them. There was a slight hitch in Michelle’s breathing, so subtle that no mortal would have detected it. The hand that stroked Amaia’s hair never faltered. “I’ve always loved you, you know. I don’t know why I feel so free to say it now when I’ve always been so afraid before.”

“Afraid? You?”

“Yes. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” A moment of silence passed. Amaia wanted to lift her head to see what thoughts were flittering by on Michelle’s face, but she feared that her newfound courage came from the lack of eye contact. “It doesn’t surprise me at all that you feel more comfortable with me this way. You always feared a man would steal away your independence. You never had need to fear a woman, not even as competition.”

“But it’s still you.”

“I know. I would come back as a woman a thousand times over if it would make our relationship easier on you.”

“Do you feel more a man or a woman?”

“I feel more myself as a man. If I had to choose, that would be my choice. I believe that perhaps God knew that me coming to you as a woman would make it easier for you. What about you? Are you more attracted to me as a man or a woman?”

“Well, I’ve never been attracted to women before. I’ve always fancied men from a strictly physical standpoint. When it comes to you, though, I can’t imagine not loving whatever form you took. I admit that I am smitten by you as a woman, but not any more than I am by you as a man.”

“Come home. I have an appointment for you this evening.”
Lawrence’s voice startled her. Her time with Michelle seemed so disconnected from the rest of her life. The last thing she wanted was to leave, but now that things were better with Michelle, she didn’t want to risk ruining it by angering Lawrence or rousing his suspicions.

“All right. I’m coming.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to go, Michelle.”

“Why?”

“It’s Lawrence. He’s calling me.” Amaia stood and helped Michelle to her feet.

“What? How?”

“A sire and his child can communicate through the mind.”

“What does that mean?” A crease appeared between her eyes.

“It’s like hearing his voice in my head. It works both ways.”

Michelle’s mouth slackened. “Wait, can he hear everything you think?”

“No.” Amaia laughed. “Just what I tell him. Don’t worry, you’re a well-kept secret. I wouldn’t go, but I don’t want to risk Lawrence’s anger when I’m going to be relying on his good graces to let me run off whenever I want to see you.”

“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. When will I see you again?”

“I’m not sure. As soon as I can.”

“Good.” Michelle stepped forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Stay safe.”

“You too, Michelle.” Without another word, she left.

Palermo, December 1794

“It’s mating.” Meg’s voice carried the tone of someone who must explain something simple to a child.

“With a human.” Disgust was thick in Liam’s voice.

Already, Amaia regretted telling them. It had been impossible to hide the news when they met at the Cathedral of Palermo. She wouldn’t have been able to lie without upsetting Meg. Still, she should have tried.

“But we didn’t exchange blood.”

“No, but if it felt as different from regular sex as you said, it sounds as if you did exchange energies. That must be the same. Our energies come from our blood, so exchanging energies has to be similar to exchanging blood. You must really be in love with her to allow it.”

“I didn’t allow her anything different than I allow my clients.”

“You had to have. Mating can’t be forced. If it could, don’t you think Zenas would have long ago established compulsory mating?”

Meg had a point, although Amaia didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I still don’t agree.”

“Why do you keep blinding yourself?”

Amaia wanted to ask why Meg cared so much, but that would be hurtful. Her friend was only looking out for her. “Because. What if something happens to her? She’s going to die. If we’ve mated, that means I’ll die too.”

Meg’s eyes were wary. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll be able to hold off until she is reborn. It will be different for you, knowing that she’s returning.”

“But what if something happens to her before the time she’s meant to die? What if that messes up the cycle?”

“You have to protect her with your life, then.” Liam’s words were matter-of-fact. Amaia glimpsed the depth of his feeling for Meg that caused him to stay steadfastly by her side, even when she led him to places—and friends—he’d just as soon do without.

“I thought you didn’t approve.”

“I don’t, but you don’t need my approval.”

Amaia didn’t know what to say because she didn’t know what she should do. There were too many thoughts in her head and too many emotions coursing through her body.

Meg patted her hand. “There’s no use worrying about it. What’s done is done. It was inevitable. Let’s go eat. You’ll think more clearly when you’re sated.”

Amaia didn’t have an interest in food, but the pangs in her stomach begged to differ. At least feeding would occupy her. Meg was right. There was no use worrying over what was done. Amaia was powerless.

Palermo, May 1795, 5 months later

This was no way to live: snatched days every few weeks, hours cut short whenever Lawrence called. It wasn’t right to have Michelle in her life but not be able to give her all to her. Amaia spent as much time as she could with Michelle. Days were spent talking or making love. Amaia even convinced Michelle to teach her how to sew so that she could finish her work for her. Every minute together was sacred. They always parted too soon and met again after too long. The pain in Michelle’s eyes each time they parted stabbed Amaia. She should be with her, not sitting in the rafters of a church with her two vampire friends watching a wedding. It wasn’t a sentimental visit. Liam planned on making a meal out of the bride.

The only real solution she could think of was to turn Michelle. It was so easy, so simple. Deceptively so. Amaia knew the traps lurking down that path. There were too many problems. First of all, the victim must be willing to turn, otherwise it wouldn’t work. She would have to actively drink Amaia’s blood. Michelle didn’t want to be a vampire. She wouldn’t consent to becoming something she viewed as evil. Yet another disadvantage of human belief. Good and evil didn’t exist as humans saw them. No God meant no Satan as an antithesis. There were only actions and motivations.

Even if she could convince Michelle to see sense, Zenas wouldn’t let them live. If he ever found out that she had transformed a human and then mated—and to her reincarnated transformation kill, no less—he would kill them both. They could run, try to live in hiding, but Zenas would have every vampire in his clan, and some who weren’t, searching for them. It would only be a matter of time.

Michelle made Amaia too reckless. The lack of control she exhibited around Michelle was disconcerting. Lawrence had to be suspicious. Amaia held enough respect and love for him to not insult his intelligence. The day would come when he would discover her secret—or reveal it if he already knew. When that day came, it would be a death sentence for Michelle.

Dead if they did, dead if they didn’t. No happy ending waited for Amaia. But perhaps one waited for Michelle.

Everything about Michelle’s situation seemed tied to Amaia’s relationship with her. Her mind travelled back to the fact that she died each time at the exact moment Amaia had killed her in what Amaia had assumed was her first life. She had never believed it was coincidence, but she had also never delved too deeply. Perhaps that was where she should search for solutions. Cho had told her that the way a man dies reveals much. Each time she had seen Michael die, he had clutched his chest. It was always sudden. His heart simply gave out.

Life’s lessons are rarely taught in the literal,
Cho had said. She had worked out long ago that she had been the cause of his death each time. But there was significance in the fact that he died of a heart attack each time. He was dying of a broken heart. If she wanted him to stop, then the solution had to be to mend his heart.

Perhaps if Michelle fell in love with someone else, she might forget her. A sinking feeling shook her chest. She didn’t like the thought of Michelle ever forgetting her. She knew she could never forget Michelle. She would remember her for eternity. Remember her love, the sex, their time together. These thoughts would all torment her for the rest of time. But humans were different. Humans were frail and weak. Michelle would forget.

Then again, she remembered past lives. How easy would it be for her to forget about Amaia when memories crossed lifetimes? Maybe forgetting was too strong a hope. She wouldn’t need to forget about her, only to place more importance on someone else.

Inside the church, the couple knelt at the altar. The woman was dressed all in white, her lace veil clearly a hand-me-down, already yellowing with age. The dress was likely the fanciest she would ever wear. It was plainer than almost anything Amaia owned. Yet, the bride’s face was radiant with a beauty not defined by physical features. Likewise, the man radiated love for her. Their energies mingled, brushing up against each other and intertwining. They were happy.

Michelle would make a beautiful bride. Jealousy rose in Amaia’s gut. She didn’t like the thought of Michelle with anyone else, but she couldn’t have her, so it was selfish to think of her any other way. If she could get her to fall in love with someone else, then perhaps the cycle would break. She would no longer have a broken heart tying her to mortality. She could live her own life, free of Amaia’s complications. She deserved to be as happy as the woman at the altar.

“Do you want the groom, or may I have him?”

“Hmm?” Amaia hadn’t been paying attention to Meg.

“The groom. May I have him?”

“Oh, sure, go ahead. You and Liam have fun.” Amaia watched them drop to the shadowy floor. She needed to speak to Michelle.

***

“What’s wrong?” Michelle sat next to Amaia on the beach. The sea air blew their hair behind them, carrying the scent of salt water. Amaia loved it, and she had spent many hours with Michelle walking in the wet sand. She was firm in her resolve, but that didn’t make what she had to do any easier.

“I think you should marry, Michelle.” Amaia didn’t know any other way to broach the subject.

“I’ve been saying that all along, but you’ve never accepted me. Well, you’re going to have to wait until I come back as a man. Hesitation never pays.” Michelle smirked.

Amaia shook her head. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You can’t marry me, not even in your next life, and you know it. I think you should find someone else, fall in love, and marry. It will make you happy. Perhaps it will mend your broken heart.”

“I don’t have a broken heart, Amaia.”

“Yes, you do. In a few years, you’re going to die from it, just as you have every other time. I killed you, betrayed you, and it’s left a scar so deep that it quite literally kills you.”